#and his journey here is part of what made me come to love him as a character

[mythalism]

more me verbally processing my feelings on this game and it's story that i sent in discord but i know reading these things can be helpful to others processing so im sharing them here <3

even though i think i personally am able to find coherent meaning in solas's ending, specifically the status of the veil, and i do think its good and i like it, i really have to work to do it. the way its written is kind of confusing because the message is like ok. let go of your regrets. but you also have to atone for your mistakes. but solas believes he is atoning by taking the veil back down and bringing immortality back and making sure more spirits are not turned into demons? but the story tells us that version of atonement is Wrong, but why is it wrong? because people will die? but people also die because of the veil? mages are mass incarcerated and lobotimized bc of the veil, elves have been enslaved for millenia, PEOPLE AGE AND DIE, BECAUSE OF THE VEIL? so he isnt supposed to atone for that mistake by fixing it he's just supposed to accept it and let go? so are we supposed to atone for our mistakes or not? what determines whether or not we need to atone? he has to atone for what he did to the titans but not what he did by accident to his own people i guess? and he is going to atone by maintaining the status quo that he created because people have gotten used to it?

i think the answer based on the regret prison scene with rook escaping with varric's help and that banger line of varric's is to take accountability and own up to your choices, they are yours and no one can take them from you. rook says something to one of the regret statues (for me it was harding) thats like "i made a choice and so did you and you knew the risks" or something so i think that is the key. solas cannot accept his choices and so he is desperate to undo them no matter what kind of harm it may do. he is trapped in regret and the past to the point that he cant accept them and move forward, and varric is the perfect contrast of this with how readily he accepts his death as a consequence of his love and hope for his friend. even mythal accepts her own choices when she tells solas that she turned him from his purpose. and she doesnt apologize or even express regret at all, partly because shes a crazy bitch (affectionate) but partly because i think her quiet, cold acceptance is part of the lesson solas needs to learn in that moment. solas is constantly saying, "im sorry, but", "ir abelas, vhenan, but i cannot". mythal just states her actions plainly; i forced you to take a body, i brought you into war, these burdens are ours to bear together, i release you. no apology, no rumination, she is at peace with her decision even though it is wrong. i think this works wonderfully on a personal individual level of personal regrets. it is a good lesson; regret does not serve any purpose other than to hurt you. it brings no one back, it helps nothing, it does not make the world a better place. solas has to let go of his regrets so that he can become the hero that varric sees deep down in him. it is an essential part of his personal journey as a character... but it gets stickier when we are talking about systemic change. obvi a lot of dragon age's modern, young audience is very much in favor of "tear it all down!!" and i am too but i think with solas they are trying to tell a very personal and individual story of a man and his regrets rather than make a social commentary on radical change, but they also dont make that clear enough, so the two get muddied together when it comes to the question of the veil in a way that feels like they are advocating for maintaining the status quo, which i dont think was their intention.

i think this is so muddied because inquisition very much makes clear commentary on systems and institutions with the chantry, the orlesian empire, ferelden monarchy, mages and templars, and the inquisition itself being all vulnerable to corruption, and solas has a lot to say about all of this and he is very much presented as being right (like when he tells you about the corruption in your own ranks in trespasser and how hes spying on you lol) and then veilguard does not do this AT ALL, all of the issues are very personal ones of people and their identity, people and their family, people and their regrets etc. so i think a lot of us are in this mindset from inquisition of like.... yeah disrupt the status quo install a puppetmaster elf to rule an imperialist empire, make leliana pope and radicalize the chantry even if its bloody, dissolve the inquisition, abolish the circles etc. etc. and the question of the veil is very much an extension of these philosophical questions about systems and organizations. and for those of us who leaned towards dissolution of all of those corrupt structures, dissolution of the veil is the logical conclusion to a story thats sending us that message. but then veilguard just. does not even engage with these topics at all. like its not even a question. it takes the question of the veil and translates it into a personal issue of solas's psyche (which is super interesting, just different) and connects it to his past actions, his relationship with mythal, and his perception of himself, rather than a macro-level question of what is best for the world when pursuing change, and the answer for solas on a personal level ends up being different from the answer that inquisition was asking us, but it feels disjointed as a result.

so the veil staying up was the right decision because it forced solas to let go of his regrets and the game is about him. so it was an exercise in his therapy session with his two ex-gfs and some annoying kid who wont leave him alone. but the problem is it doesn't answer or engage with the greater questions and themes about systemic change that the series has been building up to.

veilguard is interesting because it wants to be dragon age 2 so bad while simultaneously being terrified of dragon age 2. solas bringing down the veil would have been the answer to the question that anders blowing up the chantry asked, but veilguard decided to ask a completely different question instead. and i think it did a good job in that specific goal, but it doesnt satisfy 15 years of build up and instead just throws it out the window in favor of something else.

[justabigassnerd]

New Relationships

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 13.2K

Warnings - angst, arguing, swearing, fluff

Summary - you meet someone new, and while at first you don't get on... you soon change your tune

A/N - it's time for the return of Hangman Junior y'all! it's certainly been a long time coming and it's been so fun getting back into this universe! I do apologise if this fic isn't great I was trying my best lol. but I hope y'all enjoy (and don't worry I'm planning a follow up fic that'll go more into the stuff that happened at the end). as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Growing up, Javy had always been a staple in your life. He was your dad’s best friend and he had played a huge part in your upbringing. You had even regularly spent nights at Javy’s house when your dad was away. With all the time you had spent with Javy, you thought you knew him better than most.

But you didn’t know that he had concealed a secret no one other than Jake knew about.

One day while Bradley was up in the air, training some of the newest recruits that had joined Top Gun, Jake was lounging in the rec room, listening to all the conversations happening up in the air on the small radio. Javy had been in the room but had to step out of the room when his phone began to ring.

“You got this, Bradley,” Jake muttered with a small smile as he listened to his husband explaining what flight exercise he and the other recruits would be doing. Jake had loved seeing how much Bradley’s confidence had grown since the uranium mission. He had stopped hesitating so much up in the air and had truly become a fighter pilot others would fear when in a dogfight.

As Jake listens carefully to the radio, chuckling to himself when he hears the cocky remarks from the new trainees who reminded him of himself, Javy comes back into the rec room, visibly shaken as he moves to sit down, collapsing on the couch opposite Jake who is instantly concerned about his best friend.

“Whoa, Coyote, what’s up man?” Jake asks worriedly, now distracted from listening to the radio and giving his best friend his full attention.

“I just got a call from CPS. Iris has been caught drunk and high in her house. They’re removing Mateo from her care and wanting him to move in with me.” Javy explains, propping his elbows on his lap and burying his face in his hands as he lets out a sigh.

“She what?” Jake asks, eyes wide in shock as he processes what Javy has just said to him.

“Apparently some teachers at school were concerned about Mateo and called CPS to investigate the house and they found Iris high as a kite with some random guy in the house while Mateo was nowhere to be found and Iris sure as hell had no idea where he was.” Javy elaborates, dropping his hands and looking at Jake who softens in sympathy for his best friend, getting up from where he was sitting and moving to sit next to Javy.

“Well, he’s gotta come out here, right? He shouldn’t be shoved into the system.” Jake says as if it was the most obvious answer.

“I know. They’ve said they want to call again later to figure out when will be best for him to fly out here. I just don’t know how to tell anyone about this.” Javy says quietly as he glances over at Jake, his eyes displaying every ounce of emotion he is feeling.

Javy had never been as open about his private life. He told the Daggers bits and pieces but he had closely guarded secrets that only Jake knew about. The biggest one of those secrets is his son Mateo.

Mateo was not much younger than you, only a few months give or take. Javy had been in college and met a pretty girl at a party. The alcohol in his system definitely helped aid the decision he made to sleep with her that night. A couple of weeks down the line, Iris discovered that she was pregnant and both she and Javy had made the joint decision to keep and raise their baby together as they continued their college journey. By the time they graduated, Mateo had been born and was a couple of months old. Iris was well aware of Javy’s intentions to join the Naval Academy and train to become an aviator but just as he began his training, they had a huge argument which led to Iris moving away and taking Mateo with her. It broke Javy’s heart to watch her take his son and leave, so much so that he opted to keep Mateo’s entire existence a secret to hide his heartbreak from everyone around him. After meeting Jake and discovering that Jake had a daughter of his own, he found himself inclined to open up about his son but made sure that Jake promised to keep this information a secret. And true to his word, Jake kept it a secret, even from Bradley and from you.

Javy had always made attempts to visit Mateo as he grew up. Every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday he’d travel to Utah in an attempt to spend some time with his son. Yet no matter how much he tried, Iris would refuse to let him spend a decent amount of time with Mateo, and he was never allowed to invite Mateo to spend time with him once he settled in Miramar. Javy just couldn’t make any sense of it. Half the time he was sure she didn’t care for their son but the moment Javy would mention visiting or paying for a flight so that Mateo could come to Miramar, she’d start claiming that she didn’t want her son to get hurt by Javy, seemingly ignoring the amount of effort Javy was willing to put in just for a short visit.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out together, okay? They already love y/n, so I can’t imagine any reason why they’d not love Mateo too.” Jake’s gentle voice shakes Javy from his thoughts, causing him to look over at Jake and offer him a soft smile.

“I don’t feel like I’m prepared for this,” Javy whispers, worry in his voice as Jake offers his friend a supportive smile moving to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing could prepare you for this, but I’m going to help. Go and tell Maverick you’ve had a family emergency and that you need to head home, he’ll understand. Then go home and check out your spare room, text me a list of things you think you’ll need for the room for when Mateo arrives. And while you call CPS to organise Mateo moving out here, I’ll run by the store and then meet you at your house.” Jake says, explaining his thought-out plan as Javy nods, inhaling sharply before standing up and moving to exit the room. Upon realising that Jake wasn’t following him, Javy turned to look over at Jake.

“Are you not coming?” He asks, confused as to why Jake wasn’t coming when he had made it clear that he intended to join him.

“I’ll come along later. Bradley’s awful at checking his phone at work so I need to tell him what I’m doing face to face otherwise he’ll damn near have an aneurysm when he realises I’m not around. Just make sure Maverick knows I’ll be leaving too.” Jake says with a chuckle, waving his hand to dismiss Javy who nods before rushing out of the rec room in search of Maverick.

When Bradley had landed, Jake had rushed out to meet him on the tarmac, with Bradley beaming as Jake approached.

“It’s not often my husband meets me out on the tarmac. What’s up?” Bradley says as the two reach each other.

“Coyote’s had a last-minute family emergency so I’ve offered to help him out. I just wanted to let you know before I went off to help. I don’t need you panicking when you can’t find me.” Jake explains, watching as Bradley’s smile fades slightly in worry.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, concerned about Javy.

“I’ll explain everything when we’re both home, okay? I promise.” Jake says, keeping a small smile on his face to try to keep Bradley from worrying too much about what could be happening.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” Bradley says with a sigh before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Jake’s lips to bid him a silent goodbye. After they break apart, Jake whispers a quiet goodbye before backing away and heading back into the building to gather up his things before heading out to his truck so he can head to the nearest store.

As Jake pulls into a parking spot, his phone buzzes with a message from Javy consisting of a list of things he needs Jake to buy in anticipation of Mateo’s arrival. As Jake enters the store, he begins to come up with a game plan to get in and out in as little time as possible so he can get back to Javy as quickly as possible. Jake went up and down each aisle, grabbing the things Javy needed, doing his best to pick things he thought a teenage boy would like. Jake picked up a couple of various plain coloured covers for the spare bed in Javy’s spare room, he grabbed some snacks he thought Mateo might like to try and make everything seem a little more homely. When Jake had finished shopping, he loaded all the bags into the backseats of his truck before getting behind the wheel and driving to Javy’s house.

Upon arriving at Javy’s house, he unloads the shopping and approaches the front door, knocking on the wooden door and waiting patiently for Javy to let him in.

“Thank you for doing this,” Javy says gratefully the moment he opens the door and sees Jake on the other side, stepping aside to allow him into the house.

“It’s no problem,” Jake says with a friendly smile as he follows Javy into the living room, both men unpacking the bags and sorting things while making quiet conversation.

“How much do I owe you?” Javy asks, reaching for the receipt he found at the bottom of one of the bags, stopping only when Jake snatches the piece of paper from the bag before Javy can reach it himself.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jake says, beginning to fold the receipt up and holding it away from Javy as he attempts to reach out for it.

“Come on, man. You just went to the store and spent however much money on stuff for my son when you didn’t have to. I owe you.” Javy says, letting out a frustrated huff when Jake continues to hold the receipt out of reach and eventually tucking it into his pocket to conceal it from Javy as he softens.

“You’ll never owe me anything. You’ve looked after y/n more times than I can count. The least I can do is help you organise everything for when Mateo arrives.” Jake says gently, a supportive smile on his face as Javy smiles back, overwhelmed with gratefulness towards his friend.

“We should probably take all this stuff upstairs and start setting up his room. I called CPS and they told me he’d be flying out within the next couple of days, they’re just in the process of getting flights and sorting out everything he wants to bring with him.” Javy explains as the two men begin to head upstairs with some of the newly bought items.

“Whenever he flies out, I’m more than happy to help however you want me to. Give me a call and I’ll be there.” Jake promises as they reach the spare room, entering the room as Javy smiles appreciatively.

“Thank you, Jake,” Javy says, as he approaches the bed both men beginning to strip the old bedding off and replace it with the new things Jake had bought.

“Maybe when Mateo arrives you can take him to Home Depot or something and do up this room with colours and decorations that he’d want. That might help him settle in a little better.” Jake suggests as he puts a new cover on one of the pillows, fluffing it as he goes.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll offer it to him as an option when he arrives. I’ve taken a few days off work to make sure everything’s ready and to help Mateo settle in.” Javy says as he unfolds the new bedspread.

“Good plan. Having one-on-one time with you will surely help him settle in.” Jake agrees, taking the other half of the bedspread and helping Javy make the bed.

“Obviously I have to enrol him at a high school, y/n’s school should take him, right?” Javy asks, looking over at Jake who nods.

“They’ll be considerate of your circumstances I’m sure. They’re pretty used to accepting new students during the year. I’ll vouch for you if needed.” Jake says, confident that your high school would accept Mateo with little to no questions asked. The two men continue to finish setting up the room, making sure it’s clean and tidy in anticipation of Mateo’s upcoming arrival.

“Hey, maybe we could have a get-together when Mateo’s settled? Maybe a barbeque on the beach or something so he can get to know the Daggers.” Javy proposes, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Jake.

“That sounds good. It’ll give him a chance to get to know y/n as well before he’s tossed into school. He can at least then know one person when he starts school.” Jake says in agreement, focusing on making sure everything looks neat. When they finished preparing the room, they headed downstairs and Jake helped Javy organise the newly bought snacks, arranging them neatly in a basket to act as a warm welcome. Once everything is prepared, Javy walks Jake to the front door, thanking him with a large hug.

“I have no idea how to thank you, Jake.” Javy mumbles as the two men embrace.

“You don’t need to. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. It’s my turn to be there for you.” Jake says softly, pulling away from the hug and squeezing Javy’s shoulder slightly with a supportive smile before they both bid each other goodbye and Jake makes his way out to his truck to head home.

When Jake gets home, he unlocks the door and is greeted by an enthusiastic Moose who bounds around Jake’s feet, whining for attention until Jake begins to pet him. After Moose begins to quiet down, Jake hears footsteps approaching and looks up to see Bradley entering the hall. Jake hadn’t anticipated Bradley being home already but he also knew he hadn’t been keeping track of time while at Javy’s.

“Hey,” Jake says softly, skirting around Moose and approaching Bradley to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“Hey. How’s Coyote?” Bradley asks after pulling away from the kiss, immediately wanting to know what was up and whether Javy is okay.

“Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything. y/n’s out isn’t she?” Jake says, following Bradley into the living room with Moose on their heels, both men settling down on the couch as Moose hops up alongside them, laying his head in Jake’s lap.

“y/n said she was going to Lily’s house after school today, she won’t be back for a while I know she’s excited to see her again after so long,” Bradley confirms, remembering how you had told him that your friend Lily had been someone you knew when you were younger and had moved away from due to Jake’s job, as he focuses solely on Jake as he waits patiently for an explanation. As Jake talks, Bradley has his full attention on him, hanging on to his every word. He was shocked at the revelation that Javy had a son, but he could also understand why he had kept it a secret. After all, he’d kept his broken relationship with Maverick a secret from everyone when they all came back to Top Gun. Once Jake has finished talking, Bradley nods slightly in understanding.

“I get why Javy kept it a secret from everyone. And I’m more than willing to help out in any way I can when Mateo moves here. I’m sure y/n will be the same.” Bradley says, smiling supportively at Jake who nods.

“We’re trying to figure out when will be the best time to tell y/n. She’s known Javy all her life and this is a big piece of information to find out days away from Mateo’s arrival.” Jake explains, guilt written all over his face as he talks.

“Hey, she’ll understand. It might take a little while to come to terms with it but she’ll be there for Javy when it counts.” Bradley says reassuringly, reaching to squeeze Jake’s hand, both men smiling softly at the comfort of the contact.

By Friday afternoon, Mateo was due to fly to San Diego, Javy, Jake, and Bradley had come to the conclusion that it would be best that you knew about Mateo before he arrived so you’d have time to process the news.

“Dad, Uncle Javy is here!” You call through the house, after opening the door, smiling at Javy as Moose nudges the man, desperate for attention.

“Hey, Kit-Kat.” Javy greets, reaching out to ruffle your hair as you lightly grumble, swatting at his hand as he enters the house. Javy follows you into the living room where Jake and Bradley are just walking through the living room from the kitchen to meet Javy, all of the men smiling as they greet each other.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Bradley says, gesturing towards the couch as you sit down on the couch, your dads sitting on either side of you while Javy opts to sit on the armchair.

“What did you guys need to talk about? It’s not bad is it?” You ask worriedly, eyes flicking between each man as if you could tell what they might talk about judging by their reactions.

“It’s not bad, promise,” Jake says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his side to comfort you.

“Well, what is it then?” You ask, looking over at Javy who sighs lightly, resting his arms on his legs and squeezing his hands together as he prepares himself to speak.

“This might be a shock to hear but… I have a son.” Javy says quickly, looking up at you as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of what you just heard.

“What? Since when?” You ask, confused at the news.

“Since before I met your dad. We had Mateo while I was in my last year of college, and just as I was preparing to go to the Naval Academy, his mother and I got into a pretty nasty argument to the point she took Mateo and left. I tried my best to visit him on holidays or just whenever I could but let’s just say Iris wasn’t very welcoming. But long story short, Iris has been caught being an inappropriate guardian for Mateo and I’ve offered to be his guardian. He’s flying out here tomorrow.” Javy explains, studying your reaction carefully as you finally look at him.

“Why didn’t I know?” You ask quietly. Deep down you knew it was unreasonable to ask, but you had known Javy for so long that you were shocked that you had never known.

“How long have you two known?” You ask, turning on Jake and Bradley who exchange sad glances.

“I’ve known since Javy and I became friends. Bradley only found out a couple of days ago.” Jake explains softly, his heart breaking at the look on your face.

“So you said he’s flying out tomorrow?” You ask, steeling your expression and turning back to Javy who nods.

“Yeah, we were thinking on Sunday we’d have a barbeque or something on the beach as a welcome party so he could get to know everyone.” Javy then says, continuing to watch your reactions as you nod, your mood significantly dampened even as you try to hide it.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You say, a forced smile on your face as you nod before getting to your feet and heading up to your room with a quiet goodbye. The moment you’re out of the room, Javy’s head drops, a sigh escaping his lips.

“She hates me,” Javy says quietly, his heart hurting that he had upset you.

“She doesn’t hate you. It’s just a big piece of news to process. I bet you any money that by Sunday she’ll have come around. She just needs a little bit of time.” Jake assures Javy softly, both he and Bradley watching Javy carefully as he nods quietly.

“I should probably head home. Mateo flies in pretty early tomorrow and I want to make sure everything’s all ready for him. Some stuff has already been shipped over so I want to make sure things are organised.” Javy says, lifting his head and rising to his feet, Jake and Bradley mirroring his actions.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Bradley asks, watching Javy carefully as he shakes his head.

“No. Thank you, though. It’s just the last few things I need to sort out before tomorrow. Then we’ll meet up on Sunday, okay?” Javy says before he heads over to the door, both men following behind him.

“We’ll see you on Sunday. Give us a call if you need anything.” Jake says, both he and Bradley bidding Javy goodbye with friendly hugs, watching him make his way down the driveway and walk in the direction of his house with sad smiles on their faces, only hoping that you’d processed the news and be back to normal, and that you’d get on with Mateo when he arrived.

The next day, you decided to head down to the beach, wanting to take advantage of the sunny weather so you could spend time with Lily. You had been overjoyed when she walked into your classroom, indicating that she had moved to San Diego and after a catch-up, the two of you were acting like you’d never been apart.

“So, beach day?” Lily asks, getting in the passenger seat of your car, your Honda Fit had been fixed up after the rear ending accident and you were back to driving around like nothing had happened.

“Beach day.” You confirm with a smile, driving off from where you had parked just outside Lily’s house to pick her up.

“It’s definitely the perfect day to tan. Ooh, and I bet there will be some hot guys there too.” Lily grins, glancing over at you as you roll your eyes.

“Seriously? Is that all you care about? Boys?” You tease, your focus never shifting from the road as you drive, the journey to the beach one you had memorised quickly and easily.

“I mean it’s the weekend. Everyone will want to be at the beach over the weekend.” Lily then says, wiggling her eyebrows as you sigh with a laugh. When you find a place to park, you and Lily get out of your car, grab your beach gear and head down to the beach.

The two of you lounge on beach towels, chatting to each other, continuing to catch each other up on what you have missed in each other’s lives. You even dared to head into the ocean and splash around before heading to one of the nearby diners to have something to eat. After eating you and Lily head back outside to spend a couple more hours sunbathing before heading home.

When the two of you finally called it quits and decided to head home after spending a good few hours at the beach, you and Lily began to make your way back to your car, smiles on your faces as you talked.

“So, did you have a good time?” You query as the two of you near the small parking lot.

“The best. The beach is gorgeous, and there were loads of cute guys.” Lily gushes, clinging to your arm as you laugh.

“Glad you were impressed.” You say as you roll your eyes, already digging into your bag to grab your car keys.

“I’m easily impressed and that hasn’t changed, okay?” Lily giggles as the two of you round the corner to enter the parking lot a roar of a motorbike engine entering the parking lot, stopping dead in front of your car, making your jaw drop slightly when they don’t move, even when you make it obvious that you needed to get out.

“Hey, Asshat! I need to get out so you need to move.” You demand firmly as the biker turns their head to look at you lifting their hands to pull off their helmet.

“I’m sorry, Darling. Did you say something?” The mystery biker says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he places his helmet in front of him, resting his arms on it and leaning forward slightly.

“I did, Asshat. You’re parked right in front of my car and I need to get out. There are spots for motorbikes right over there.” You say firmly, glaring at the biker, studying him as he scoffs. He had dark skin, brown eyes, and short-cropped hair on the sides as the hair on top was beginning to grow out, the tight curls becoming obvious. You honestly might’ve found him attractive had he not been a massive asshole.

“It’s a free country is it not?” He then says, raising an eyebrow as he smirks at how easily you were getting riled up.

“Not when it comes to blocking me in. Just move your bike five feet to the right so I can get out. It’s hardly a big deal.” You say, exasperated by his attitude.

“I don’t know, Darling. I’m quite happy parking my bike here. If you were a good driver you could get around me.” He says, patting his helmet lightly, his smirk widening when he sees you huff. You then see Lily step forward to try to calm things down but you hold a hand up to stop her before focusing back on the guy in front of you.

“This is literally the quietest parking lot, find any spot that’s not you parking directly in front of my car and blocking me in.” You say, your frustration growing as he refuses to move.

“What’s in it for me?” He says teasingly, making you clench your jaw in an attempt to hold yourself back from punching him in the face.

“What’s in it for you? I won’t punch you in the face, how about that?” You offer, raising an eyebrow as you fold your arms across your chest.

“Threatening assault? Didn’t know you had that in you, Darling.” The biker grins, unfazed by your threats.

“Will you stop calling me that?” You say, your eyes narrowing as you glare at him, your anger continuing to bubble within you.

“What, you don’t like it when I call you Darling? I’m just trying to be nice.” He says with a light shrug, his clear mocking of you driving you more insane.

“Last chance, Asshat. Move the bike. We just want to leave, you can have the spot, or you can park where you are right now again. Frankly, I don’t care, just let us out.” You say, your patience wearing incredibly thin as you continue to glare, neither you nor the biker before you were willing to back down. Before another word could be spoken, you hear someone come up behind you.

“Is everything okay, here?” You hear someone ask, and you turn to see a middle-aged woman looking between you and the boy in front of you.

“Everything’s fine, thank you. This guy was just moving his bike out of the way so we could leave.” You say quickly before the guy has a chance to speak, grinning as you look over at him, challenging him to go against you now that there is a witness.

“If it pleases you, Darling. I’ll move the damn bike.” The guy says, eyes narrowed as he glares, his voice almost a spiteful hiss as he starts the engine of his bike up, putting his helmet on before roaring out of the parking lot, finally giving you the peace you had been craving.

“He wasn’t bothering you girls, was he?” The woman asks worriedly as you turn to face her.

“It was nothing we couldn’t handle.” You say with a laugh, waving your hand dismissively as the woman visibly relaxes at your words.

“Well, good on you. Take care of yourselves, girls.” The woman says softly, receiving a nod in response from both you and Lily before she turns to leave as you and Lily move to get into your car to head home.

“Man, he was such an ass.” You complain the moment your car door is closed, leaning back against your chair and letting out a sigh.

“Try not to let him get to you. You’re probably never going to see him again.” Lily offers softly, smiling as you nod, reaching to turn your key in the ignition.

“Good point. I’m not going to think about him any more.” You say, looking over at Lily with a smile, preparing to drive off.

However, despite your words. You had forgotten all about your promise to not think of him again.

“Hey, Sweetheart! How was the beach?” Jake asks with a large smile as you enter the living room, petting Moose who demands your attention.

“It was great until some asshat with a bike blocked me in and refused to move.” You say, already beginning to launch into a tangent about the events that had happened.

“He didn’t move?” Bradley asks, entering the living room from the kitchen, and handing Jake a coffee as he sits down with a drink of his own.

“Nope. I asked multiple times and he refused to move. He only moved when a woman showed up and asked if everything was okay. I think having an audience spooked him, but I’m not going to complain.” You say with a shrug, settling down on the armchair as Moose tries to force his way up onto the chair with you, ignoring your joking groans as he settles onto your lap.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him, anymore. You won’t see him again and you have other things you can focus on.” Jake says with a supportive smile as you nod.

“Lily said the same thing.” You agree with a smile.

“She’s a smart girl,” Bradley says with a smile.

“She always has been. I need to focus on tomorrow. We’re meeting Javy’s son, right?” You say, looking from Bradley to your dad as they both nod.

“That’s right. We’re having a get-together just outside the Hard Deck to welcome Mateo.” Jake confirms as you fight the urge to frown slightly.

“I owe Javy an apology for the way I reacted yesterday. That wasn’t fair on him.” You mumble, feeling embarrassed for the way you had acted.

“Hey, it was a big piece of news. Javy knows you weren’t being malicious in your reaction yesterday. Talk to him tomorrow and I’m sure the two of you will be fine.” Bradley then says, both he and Jake smiling softly as you nod.

“I agree with Bradley. You can talk to Javy and I’m sure the two of you will be back to normal in no time.” Jake agrees, getting nods from both you and Bradley.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow after I’ve met Mateo. I owe him an introduction since he’s new to town.” You say as you lean back against the armchair cushions, absentmindedly petting Moose.

“I can’t wait to meet Mateo. Him moving here means so much to Javy.” Jake says, thinking of all the times Javy had forlornly told him about Mateo and how he wanted to visit desperately.

“Well, if he’s anything like Javy. We’ll get along just fine.” You muse softly, exchanging soft smiles with your dads.

But when the next day came. You found yourself eating your previous words.

You, Jake, and Bradley arrived at the beach just outside the Hard Deck, jumping out of the truck with Moose alongside you and approaching where the Daggers had gathered outside.

“Do you see Javy?” You ask as you approach the group, searching for him so you can talk to him.

“He’s just over there, and that must be Mateo nearby,” Jake says, pointing out where Javy is before pointing at someone sitting at a nearby table with their back to you.

“I’m going to go and introduce myself.” You say with a smile, handing Moose’s leash to Jake and beginning to make your way across to where Mateo is sitting.

“Hey, you must be Mateo, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself with a smile as Mateo turns to face you, your smile dropping the instant you realise that the guy sitting before you was the same biker from yesterday who had refused to move after blocking you in.

“I must admit I wasn’t expecting to see you around here again, Darling. I thought you’d be licking your wounds after you needed a grownup to fight your battle for you.” Mateo says snarkily, turning around to face you fully and leaning his back against the wooden table as he smirks.

“I didn’t need a grownup’s help, Asshat. I was doing perfectly fine without her.” You say angrily, silently wondering how someone as lovely as Javy had a son who acted like this.

“So you’re the daughter my dad kept raving about? Seems like his breath was wasted on your praises.” Mateo says, barely glancing over at Javy as he speaks before focusing back on you.

“You don’t know anything about me, Asshat.” You say, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare.

“I know you’re my dad’s best friend’s kid. You’re going to the same school I’m being forced to go to, and my dad practically kisses the ground you walk upon. Anyone would think you’re his kid with the way he talks about you.” Mateo says with a roll of his eyes, his frustration evident in his voice.

“I forget, those little bits of information ensure you know absolutely everything about me.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes in response as you fold your arms across your chest.

“I know more than you think, Darling. I’m not stupid, you know.” Mateo says, making you grit your teeth.

“You could’ve fooled me.” You say, your irritation reaching a breaking point. You then look around, locking eyes with Javy. You smile softly and take the opportunity to move away from Mateo to talk to Javy finally.

“Hey, Kit-Kat,” Javy says quietly as you approach him, his smile small yet genuine.

“Hey, Uncle Javy. I wanted to apologise for how I reacted the other day.” You say, fiddling with your fingers to try and calm yourself.

“You don’t need to apologise, y/n. I had kept a pretty big secret for a long time and it makes sense for you to need time to process the news.” Javy says with a gentle smile, reaching up to rest a hand on your shoulder, making your smile widen before you move to hug him an action Javy reciprocates in seconds.

“I do need to apologise. It wasn’t fair of me to act like I was entitled to that information. And I’m sorry for that.” You apologise as you hug Javy tightly.

“If anything I should apologise. I could see the way you and Mateo were interacting just a minute ago.” Javy mumbles embarrassed at his son's attitude that he had been on the receiving end of since Mateo arrived the day before.

“I thought he’d be a bit more like you in personality.” You admit with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I did too. Unfortunately, it seems he has a problem with me and no matter what I try, he won’t talk to me.” Javy admits softly, disappointed that Mateo won’t even give him the time of day.

“Maybe he needs some time. It’s been a big change for him and maybe he’s just lashing out because of it?” You offer as you pull away from the embrace slightly so you can look up at Javy.

“We’ll have to see,” Javy says softly, seemingly unconvinced by your words of support. Not knowing how to respond, you offer Javy one last hug before heading back over to Jake and Bradley.

“It looked like you and Mateo were getting into it. Is everything okay?” Jake asks the moment you reach their side.

“Turns out Mateo is the guy who blocked me in yesterday.” You say with a shrug, crouching down to pet Moose who greets you happily, tail swishing excitedly.

“That was Mateo?” Bradley asks, shocked as he looks across to where Mateo is sitting, unable to believe that Javy’s son would act in such a way.

“I think Javy needs someone to talk to, Dad. It seems Mateo is giving him some attitude and he might need someone to talk to about it.” You say, glancing over at Jake who nods, giving you Moose’s leash so he can cross to Javy.

“Hey, let’s hang out with the others, if Mateo doesn’t want to get involved then that’s his loss.” Bradley offers as you stand up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to where Mickey and Bob are standing nearby, drinks in hand as they converse.

“Hey, Hangman Junior!” Mickey greets you happily with a hug which you reciprocate quickly before moving to hug Bob.

“Hey, Mickey. Hey Bob. Have you guys met Mateo yet?” You greet the two men, looking between them as they nod slowly.

“He’s a bit… different to what I was expecting,” Mickey says awkwardly, eyes flicking across to where Mateo was sitting before looking back at you.

“Phoenix and I tried to introduce ourselves to him but we got the cold shoulder. It seemed like you managed to have a conversation with him though.” Bob says before taking a sip from his water, watching you carefully.

“Oh, that? No, it turns out Mateo was the ass who blocked me in at the beach yesterday and he decided to keep picking a fight with me. I don’t think we’re going to get on at all. He’s nothing like Javy.” You explain, shaking your head as you tell the story, making sure the men know that you’re not going to get along with him like you had previously thought.

“We can agree with you there. He is nothing like Coyote.” Mickey agrees as both he and Bob nod, everyone glancing over at Mateo and watching him curiously for a moment before turning back to each other to continue your conversations.

By the end of the get-together, Mateo had ended up disappearing much to everyone’s shock. The only person who wasn’t panicked at the revelation was Javy, who had dealt with him disappearing the day before and just defeatedly told everyone to head home, apologising for the way Mateo had been acting and for wasting everyone’s day. You had given Javy a big hug after hearing him say that, feeling bad that his own son wasn’t putting in the same effort he was to forge a relationship.

“Hey, would you like to come to ours for dinner? We could order some takeout or something?” Jake offers his friend softly, fighting back a frown as Javy shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s best I stay at home in case Mateo comes back. He may not want much to do with me but I don’t want him locked outside without any keys.” Javy says, his smile sad as he attempts to wave you and your dads off.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us.” Bradley then says, reaching out to pat Javy’s shoulder lightly.

“Thank you,” Javy says softly before allowing you and your dads to make your way over to Jake’s truck so you can head home for the day. As your dad’s truck pulled away from the Hard Deck, all you could think about was how much Mateo was going to be a pain in your ass when he started at your school.

It turned out that your prediction had been correct, Mateo had joined your high school halfway through the week after the beach get-together and much to your dismay he had been put in most of your classes. You and Lily had tried your best to avoid him, and you constantly found yourself biting your tongue when he decided to bother you both during and in between classes.

“Hey, Darling. I thought I could feel a chill in the air.” Mateo teases from where he is leaning against a locker, a smirk on his lips as you glare at him.

“Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice, Asshat?” You say, not even stopping as you walk down the corridor, causing Mateo to push himself away from the locker and trail along behind you.

“I could ask you the same question. You’re the damn teacher's pet, not me.” Mateo says with a shrug as he continues to follow you.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t participate in class. I’d hate to have to prove you wrong in front of everyone.” You say, raising an eyebrow as you briefly glance his way, smirking to yourself.

“If that helps you sleep at night, Darling. You can think whatever you want.” Mateo says.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” You say lowly, stopping short in your tracks so you can turn to face Mateo who mimics your actions.

“I thought you liked it,” Mateo says, a fake pout on his face to irritate you further before breaking out into a smile when he achieves his goal.

“We don’t even have the same class now, can you just leave me alone?” You say, your irritation quickly reaching its peak as you begin to walk away.

“You’re no fun,” Mateo says before walking off, not noticing how you roll your eyes at his words.

“Why does he constantly bother me?” You complain to Lily as she joins you from her class.

“It’s because you argue back. You’re giving him what he wants.” Lily says with a shrug, ignoring how you huff in annoyance.

“If he stopped bothering me I wouldn’t need to fight back. He could make life easier for the both of us if he just shut up.” You say, turning to head into your next class with Lily following behind you, hoping that Mateo will stop bothering you.

When lunchtime arrived, you entered the cafeteria with Lily, chatting with her as you discussed your plans for next weekend. After you had grabbed a tray, you surveyed the busy cafeteria, you noticed Mateo sitting by himself and felt your heart sink slightly. Despite your frustration and lack of friendship with Mateo, you found yourself sympathetic to the fact that he had clearly been spending his time alone without anyone to talk to. Walking away from Lily, you make your way across the cafeteria towards the table Mateo is sitting at, placing your tray down and easing down into your chair.

“What are you doing here?” Mateo asks as soon as he looks up and realises it was you sitting opposite him.

“I saw you were sat alone and I thought I’d-”

“You thought you’d play the sympathetic hero and sit with the new kid, huh? Well, I haven’t got time to deal with you trying to make yourself feel better.” Mateo snaps accusingly, glaring at you with a ferocity you hadn’t seen from him since you had spoken at the beach.

“I wasn’t doing that-”

“I know exactly what you’re doing. You don’t give a shit about me. You just want to make yourself look good in front of everyone else. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Mateo growls angrily, making you grow angry, grabbing your tray and raising from your seat.

“Fine, have it your way. You’re never going to make friends with that shitty attitude of yours.” You say angrily, unable to believe the attitude you were getting for a kind gesture.

“I don’t need friends. I’m fine on my own.” Mateo says as you begin to walk away, not able to see how you roll your eyes, finding Lily sitting with some other girls in your grade and joining them instead.

“Did you really just try and sit with Mateo?” Lily asks as you settle in the seat opposite her, beginning to dig into your food.

“I thought I’d try and be nice. I know if I were sitting alone I’d want someone to take the step to sit with me. Turns out he didn’t want anything to do with me.” You say in between mouthfuls, glancing around at the girls around you who watch you sympathetically.

“I heard Zack tried to sit with him on his first day and he got cursed out pretty quickly. It’s clear he’s a loner and doesn’t like people.” Marcy says, recalling what a boy had told her before and frowning. Unable to voice the thoughts you had regarding Mateo’s outbursts, you found yourself nodding along to Marcy’s theory, glancing over your shoulder to where Mateo was sitting, watching as he ate his meal alone.

Over the next few days, Mateo started to be less annoying towards you and more standoffish. He didn’t bother you in classes or in the corridor. He’d barely spare you a glance if you and your dads were over at his house to check in on him and Javy. You had longed for the day when Mateo stopped bothering you but now that he had stopped, you found yourself missing his presence, no matter how much you complained about it. You also longed to learn what his problem with you was, you admitted that you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with him but you had made an effort at school and he had brushed you off. Javy had told you to not worry about it, since he had been treating everyone around him like that no matter how hard he tried to forge a relationship with his son.

One day after school, you had been promised by your dad that he’d pick you up after school since your car had gone in for a service so you found yourself waiting outside your high school, alone as more and more people began to disappear home. It wasn’t until nearly everyone had left that you realised that Mateo was still around.

“I thought you would’ve hopped on your little bike and ridden off home by now.” You say, barely sparing Mateo a glance as you notice him sidling up alongside you.

“I could say the same for you. You haven’t driven home to daddy, yet?” Mateo says teasingly, his snark matching yours with practised ease.

“My car’s being serviced, what’s your excuse, Asshat? Or have you decided to start bugging me again?” You retort, glaring over at him briefly before focusing back on the road ahead of you, hoping that by some miracle your dad’s truck will pull up in front of you.

“That dad of mine confiscated my bike keys. Damn asshole said I apparently can’t be trusted so he told me I have to wait to be picked up like I’m a kid.” Mateo complains, making you grit your teeth at his words, enraged that he could speak in such a way about Javy.

“He has every right to treat you that way because quite frankly you are acting like a child and it’s ridiculous.” You say firmly, checking the time on your phone one more time and sighing at the time. Coming to the assumption that your dad had forgotten to pick you up, you made the executive decision to begin to walk home with Mateo beginning to trail after you.

“Why are you following me?” You complain, quickly noticing that Mateo is following you along the path.

“I’m walking home I’m not following you. It’s just unfortunate that we live so close together so I’m stuck walking with you.” Mateo says, an almost offended tone to his voice at your accusation.

“Well, if you could keep your mouth shut that would be great and maybe I won’t kill you on the way home.” You say, your grip tightening on your bag as you continue to walk, hoping that Mateo will get the hint.

“Again with the threats but no follow through. You’re all bark and no bite aren’t you, Darling?” Mateo says with a whistle, raising an eyebrow as you scoff.

“I can fight back if I need to. I just won’t stoop to that if I can help it.” You say, your eyes focused on where you are going so you wouldn’t give Mateo the satisfaction of looking at him as you begin to head through the park, grateful that if you continue to argue, people won’t be around to witness it.

“You’re just trying to sound tough. We all know you’d hide behind your daddy at any confrontation.” Mateo says, enjoying how quickly he is getting under your skin as you stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“What exactly is your problem with me? I’ve tried to be nice and you keep pushing me away and acting like an asshole.” You ask, genuinely wanting an answer from him but not attempting to mask your anger in any way.

“It’s none of your business.” Mateo retorts, snapping quickly as you only grow angrier.

“It is my business. You have some sort of problem with me, and even more so, you have a problem with Javy who doesn’t deserve that treatment from you.” You say angrily, your voice raising.

“Of course, you’d defend him. You know, he was never around when I was younger. I was that kid who grew up with no dad and pretty much never had a mom either. You have no idea what it was like to go through that.” Mateo says angrily, taking a step closer to you as he talks.

“You’re not even giving him a chance. He’s really trying to make a bond with you. At least meet him halfway. You can hate me all you like but don’t hate Javy.” You say, fighting the urge to plead with the stubborn teen who stood before you.

“I never said I hated either of you,” Mateo said exasperated, running a hand through his short curls in his frustration.

“You’ve made it pretty clear that you hate everyone around you.” You say, not believing Mateo’s recently spoken words for a second.

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth. I never said that.” Mateo says, rolling his eyes.

“Then why are you acting like you do? I’ve heard Javy telling my dad about how you treat him and it’s ruining him. You truly cannot see a good thing even if it’s standing right in front of you.” You say bitterly.

“Fuck it,” Mateo whispers before launching towards you, capturing your lips with his, taking you by surprise. Once the shock had worn off, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands reaching up to pull him closer as Mateo pushed you back until your back met a tree. You continued to kiss until the need for air got too much and you forced yourself to pull away, both you and Mateo panting slightly as you gazed into each other’s eyes, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“What was that?” You ask quietly, unable to remove your gaze from Mateo’s eyes.

“Proof I never hated you,” Mateo responds, swallowing thickly as he awaits your reaction. You remain standing in place, unable to form any coherent thoughts as you stare at the boy standing before you.

“I don’t know what to say…” You force out, your brain scrambling to make sense of the thousands of thoughts swimming around in your head.

“You hated it.” Mateo mumbles, beginning to pull away from you but you act quicker, cupping his face and pulling his lips back to yours. Much like you previously, Mateo was soon kissing you back once the shock wore off, forcing you back against the tree once more. This time when you pull apart, you manage to muster a smile.

“I can’t believe we just did that. Twice.” You admit with a laugh, getting the courage to briefly brush your thumb over the apple of Mateo’s cheek before dropping your hands.

“So you didn’t hate it?” Mateo asks, a small attempt at a smile gracing his lips.

“Do you need me to kiss you again to get the answer through your head?” You ask with a light laugh.

“Maybe.” Mateo muses, placing his hands on your middle to pull you into a third kiss, this time you are both prepared and able to enjoy the moment.

“Did that give you your answer?” You tease with a smile as you pull away enough to speak, your lips barely brushing up against his.

“It sure does, Darling,” Mateo says, his smile growing. Seeing his natural smile, one that wasn’t forced or teasing, made you realise just how pretty Mateo was. He looked so much more himself when he smiled and you wanted to see that smile from him even more.

“So, you never really hated me?” You ask, your eyes searching Mateo’s for an answer, in response, Mateo takes your hand softly and leads you to a nearby bench, both of you easing yourself down onto it.

“I never hated you. I mean sure, I thought you were annoying the first time you met, but I also loved how you weren’t afraid to back down against me. Finding out you were the one my dad talked about hurt, I won’t lie. He spoke about you like you were the greatest gift to mankind.” Mateo finds himself uncharacteristically willing to open up to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t exactly make you feel welcome. I was just so angry that you spoke in such a way about Javy.” You apologise, watching Mateo as he shakes his head.

“I was so jealous of you. You knew my dad better than I do. You got your whole life with him around and I didn’t get to see him at all.” Mateo continues, having to look away from you to conceal the threatening building tears.

“It’s not too late to get to know him.” You offer, your voice soft as you reach out to take Mateo’s hand in your own, causing him to turn and look at you.

“I knew if I let myself fall for you I’d have a problem.” Mateo manages to say, a teary laugh escaping him.

“A problem? That’s a bold thing to say after three kisses. What problem?” You ask with a light roll of your eyes.

“You’re too soft for your own good, Darling. I knew if I fell for you I’d get soft too. I’ve worked so hard to protect myself my whole life that I never thought I’d fall for someone. Trust you to swoop in and mess up my plans.” Mateo admits, blinking furiously to try and rid himself of his tears.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting people in. It took my dad a long time to learn that one and now he’s happier than ever.” You say softly, squeezing Mateo’s hand as you talk to offer him support.

“It’s just… scary. I’ve relied on myself for so long.” Mateo admits, the embarrassment covering his features as he reveals something he’d kept hidden for his whole life.

“Well, let’s take it slow, shall we? There’s no rush.” You offer quietly, doing your best to sound confident for Mateo’s sake. Slightly comforted by your words, Mateo carefully moves his hand so that he was now holding yours.

You and Mateo then decide to sit together on the bench for a little while, both still trying to wrap your heads around the sudden large advancement you had made in your dynamic. Neither of you felt the need to talk, you opted to spend your time getting used to each others presence more. After spending twenty minutes together in the park, you both decide to continue to make your way home, knowing that if you stay out too long you’ll be on the receiving end of multiple worried texts from your dad.

As you approach your house, you find yourself slowing down to try and spend even more time with Mateo, something he picks up on almost instantly.

“You okay?” Mateo asks with a concern you hadn’t heard from him before.

“I’m fine. I just want to do this before we get to my house. Can’t risk my dad’s seeing this.” You say quickly, turning to face Mateo and before he can even question you, you pull him into another quick kiss, both of you smiling softly as you pull away.

“Keeping this a secret, huh Darling?” Mateo teases, raising an eyebrow as you nod.

“If that’s okay with you. Just for now.” You say, studying Mateo’s reaction carefully, relaxing slightly when he nods in understanding.

“That’s fine. I don’t really think I’m on good enough terms with my dad to open up to him about anything like this just yet.” Mateo says, his voice soft as he watches you softly.

“Maybe you could try talking to Javy? Not about this of course but about everything else. Maybe you two will be able to have a fresh start and create a bond?” You suggest, watching as Mateo nods, albeit hesitantly.

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises,” Mateo says as you offer him a small nod and smile before you whisper a quiet goodbye to Mateo which he returns before you go your separate ways.

You make your way into your house, noticing how your dad’s truck is still absent from the driveway and rolling your eyes. While you were glad you and Mateo were able to make something good out of being left behind, you couldn’t deny that it didn’t annoy you that your dad had forgotten to pick you up from school, especially after he promised he’d do so. When you enter the house, you’re greeted by Moose who excitedly whines in greeting as you reach down to pet him.

“Hey y/n/n. Where’s Jake?” Bradley makes his way into the hall to greet you with a hug, quickly noticing his husband’s absence.

“You tell me. He never showed up so I had to walk home.” You grumble, your mood now significantly soured as you remember that your dad had forgotten you entirely.

“He what?” Bradley asks, eyes widening in shock at the mere thought of Jake forgetting to pick you up from school.

“Yeah, his promise meant absolutely nothing to him, didn’t it?” You say, beginning to beeline for the stairs with Moose following along behind you as Bradley watches you sadly.

By the time Jake had come home, you and Bradley had sat down for dinner and the smile that Bradley had managed to bring onto your face vanished the second you noticed your dad’s presence.

“Hey guys, what’s on the menu?” Jake asks with a large smile, completely ignorant of your lack of acknowledgement as he enters the kitchen.

“I put a plate for you in the oven to keep warm,” Bradley says, glancing over his shoulder to watch Jake who nods, thanking Bradley as he opens the oven and removes the dish.

“Have you had a good day at school, y/n/n?” Jake then says after placing his plate on the table, and ruffling your hair, missing the way you scowled at him as you fixed your hair while he settled in his seat.

“It was fine.” You mumble, stabbing at your food without removing your gaze from your plate.

“Are you sure? You sound a little annoyed. Was it Mateo again?” Jake asks, watching you carefully.

“Jake.” Bradley attempts to interject before you speak up.

“No, it wasn’t Mateo.” You say quickly, finding yourself leaping to Mateo’s defence, much to Jake’s surprise.

“Then what’s bothering you? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Jake offers, his voice soft as he watches you.

“Can I say you? You’re bothering me right now.” You say firmly, finally lifting your gaze from your plate to glare at your dad whose eyes widen slightly at your snappy tone.

“y/n.” Bradley then says, sensing the rising tension and trying to calm everything before an argument kicks off.

“What do you mean by this? Where has this attitude come from?” Jake asks, his voice raising as he grows angry at your attitude.

“It doesn’t matter.” You say dismissively, returning your focus to your plate, fighting the urge to stab your food more aggressively than you had been previously.

“It does matter when you’re giving me an attitude. I’ve had a long day at work and the last thing I need is my kid giving me an unwarranted attitude.” Jake says, putting his cutlery down as he addresses you. His eyes narrow as he glares at you, ignoring how Moose whimpered and lay down from his position near the table.

“I don’t think the attitude is unwarranted. You promised me that you’d pick me up from school today. You know the walk is long and my car is in for a service. You let me down and you come waltzing in acting like nothing is wrong.” You say bitterly, now rapidly losing your appetite and so putting your cutlery down and pushing your chair back, getting to your feet and leaving the table so you could head to your room with Moose rushing after you. After hearing your footsteps grow quieter, Bradley turns to look at Jake who is now sitting with a shocked expression.

“You couldn’t just leave it could you?” Bradley says, a disappointed tone to his voice as he talks, lifting his fork to his mouth to take a bite.

“She could’ve texted me. I would’ve dropped everything to pick her up.” Jake says, annoyed that you’d snapped at him over something you could’ve resolved in a simple text.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Jake. You had promised her that you were going to be there. You were the one worrying about the walk home in the first place. But you decided that going to the beach was more important, huh?” Bradley mutters, his irritation obvious, revealing that he had checked Jake’s location as he gets up from his seat, picking up both his plate and yours before putting the plates in the dishwasher.

“That’s not fair, Bradley. Javy needed someone to talk to and I stepped up.” Jake says, watching as his husband shakes his head softly.

“But you couldn’t offer your daughter the decency to tell her that you wouldn’t be coming? Jake, if you couldn’t pick her up I’m sure she would’ve been fine with it if you had just told her. She could’ve gotten a ride with a friend or taken the bus if you had given her a heads-up.” Bradley says, understanding why Jake had been unable to pick you up but disappointed that he couldn’t even tell you that he wasn’t coming.

“Bradley...” Jake says, now unable to formulate a response.

“Whatever apology you want to say. I’m not the person you should be saying it to.” Bradley says with a shake of his head as he makes his way out to the living room, leaving Jake alone to think over his words.

While Jake mulls over the words spoken to him, you’re curled up in your bed with Moose by your side, snuggling close to you as you stroke him softly, appreciating the dog’s comfort. As you mindlessly watch a random show on your laptop, you find your eyes being drawn towards your phone. You longed to text Mateo, to ask him if he wanted to meet up with you so you could get out of the house just ot get your mind off everything. But you didn’t have his number and you doubted that any of your friends would have his number. With no way to contact Mateo, you debate sneaking out to see him, thinking about whether it would be worth being questioned by Javy if you showed up at his door. Eventually, as you conclude that it wouldn’t be worth sneaking out, knowing that Javy would’ve more than likely informed your dad about you showing up at his house, the door to your room opens and you look up to see Bradley sticking his head in.

“Hey, Kid. Are you okay?” Bradley asks quietly, his smile gentle as ever as he watches you.

“I’m fine.” You mumble, returning your attention to the laptop in front of you as Moose whines softly, sensing your mood.

“I know you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but, I am here if you need someone to talk to.” Bradley offers, not daring to cross the threshold into your room without permission.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but thank you, Bradley.” You say, lifting your head to look at Bradley with a small smile, making sure you let Bradley know that you were appreciative of his efforts.

“Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” Bradley says with a nod and a smile before leaving and closing the door behind him, allowing you to settle back into the pillow. Secretly, you did long to speak to someone, it’s just that Bradley wasn’t that someone right now.

By the time it grew dark and everyone was beginning to go to bed. Jake hadn’t made an effort to come to talk to you and in your stubbornness, you refused to be the one to give in so you remained in your room, listening with bated breath as Jake passed your room, hesitating for a brief second before continuing down the corridor to his bedroom. As you hear your dad walk away, you let out a small sigh of relief before curling up under your covers, closing your eyes and willing tomorrow to come faster.

The next morning, you managed to get up and out of the house without crossing paths with Jake, leaving you to walk once again to school since you weren’t scheduled to get your car back until the afternoon but after talking with Bradley, he had promised to swing by the garage to pick up your car, you had the confidence that he’d stick to his word and pick up your car before picking you up from school. By the time you arrived at school, you were searching for Mateo the moment you joined the crowds swarming the halls.

“Hey, Darling,” Mateo says as he sidles up alongside you, keeping his smile as suppressed as possible to avoid attracting attention.

“It’s good to see you.” You say softly, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him into a kiss.

“Getting soft on me already? Didn’t think it was possible.” Mateo teases, winking subtly as the two of you continue to make your way down the hall.

“Bring your ego back down to Earth I’m not getting soft.” You say with a roll of your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as Mateo smirks.

“You say that now but I give you a few days before you soften up,” Mateo says, nudging you with a smirk.

“Nah, it’ll be you going soft first.” You insist, laughing softly as you walk side-by-side. As you reach your homeroom, you take your seat next to Lily while Mateo takes his seat at the back of the class.

“Were you talking with Mateo?” Lily asks, shocked as you settle into your seat.

“He was just asking some questions about something.” You say with a shrug, trying to deflect her question as she watches you suspiciously.

“And you gave him the time of day? You never do that.” Lily asks, confused as you lean back in your chair.

“I’m making an effort to be nice. He’s Javy’s son and I can’t exactly get rid of him since my dad is literally his best friend.” You say, hoping your explanation is enough to get her to back off. Thankfully, she hesitantly nods and focuses back on the schoolwork she was hurriedly trying to finish before classes started.

As the day progresses, you and Mateo continue to interact as subtly as possible, exchanging small smiles across rooms, and when walking in the corridors, Mateo’s hand brushes up against yours, neither one of you making the jump to hold each other’s hand, desperate to maintain the secrecy of your relationship. You were aware of the side-eyed stares you were both getting from other people in the halls, but you didn’t let them bother you. At the back of your mind, you were still dwelling on the argument you had with your dad the evening before, still wondering how you had been forgotten about so easily, and it was obvious that Mateo had picked up on your mood and decided to question you about it over lunch.

“So, what’s got you all gloomy. You’ve been trying to smile all day and it’s not convincing anyone.” Mateo asks, fork in hand as he watches your reaction.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You attempt to brush off his attempts to question you as you take a sip from your drink.

“You can lie to yourself but not to me, Darling. You think I don’t know what your real smile looks like? I’m an asshole, not stupid. So what’s up?” Mateo answers as if he was answering the easiest question in the world.

“Just a stupid argument I had with Dad last night.” You mumble, poking at your food with your fork, fighting the frown that threatened to tug on your lips.

“Dad’s are dicks, what’s new?” Mateo says, his lips turning up in a small smirk as you glare up at him.

“Not the time, Asshat.” You grumble as Mateo nods slightly, his eyes flicking down to his tray.

“Just trying to make a joke.” He mumbles.

“Dad and I don’t argue often. He forgot to pick me up yesterday and he couldn’t even send me a text to tell me why. He came waltzing in acting like nothing was wrong. It’s just not like him at all.” You say, your focus entirely on your plate as you talk, missing how Mateo rolled his eyes slightly at your words.

“My dad forgot me too. Shit happens, you know?” Mateo says as you glare up at him once more.

“Seriously? You asked what was bothering me and the moment I tell you, you make jokes?” You ask incredulously, shocked by his nonchalance.

“Look. I don’t have a relationship with my dad. You do. If you want to fix it, maybe you should take a page out of your own book and talk to him. You told me to try to talk things out with my old man. If you ask me, you just need to take your own advice.” Mateo replies, watching you as you pause briefly in your movement, looking back up at him with furrowed eyebrows. As you looked at him, Mateo shrugged lightly before continuing to eat his food and his words began to sink in slightly as you watched him.

“Mateo, I’m sorry.” You apologise, nearly missing how quickly Mateo looked at you, a look of slight shock on his face before he forced himself to smile.

“Don’t apologise,” Mateo says with a shake of his head as he focuses back on his food, continuing to eat as you continue to think over his words.

By the time the end of the day had come, you had carefully planned out an apology after thinking about how Mateo talked some sense into you. As you made your way out of the school with Lily by your side after bidding a secret goodbye to Mateo where you both finally exchanged numbers, you saw your car parked outside and assuming Bradley was the one driving it, you walked over with as smile that only faltered slightly when you opened the passenger side door and saw your dad inside instead.

“Hi, Dad.” You mumble quietly as you get into the passenger seat, shoving your backpack into the footwell in front of you.

“Hi, y/n/n,” Jake replies with a small smile, waiting for you to plug in your seatbelt before beginning the drive home.

“I thought Bradley was picking me up after grabbing the car.” You ask, trying to hide any potential attitude in your voice.

“I thought I should do it. I let you down yesterday and I should do something to make up for it.” Jake responds, his eyes fixed firmly on the road as he drives.

“I didn’t mean to get mad last night.” You begin, glancing over at your dad as you talk.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologise. I had promised I’d pick you up and I let you down. If anyone should be apologising here it should be me.” Jake says, looking over at you as he stops in front of a red light.

“I didn’t even stick around to hear if you had a reason for why you hadn’t picked me up.” You say, feeling bad about your treatment towards your dad.

“It’s okay, y/n. I owed you a text at the very least. Javy asked me if we could talk after work and I completely forgot about everything else, I just wanted to make sure Javy was okay.” Jake explains, feeling awful that he had so quickly dropped everything to help his best friend while forgetting about his daughter in the process.

“Is Javy okay?” You ask worriedly, your attention now shifted at the mention of Javy.

“He’s okay. I think Mateo has been giving him a bit of a hard time and he just wanted some support.” Jake explains and you find yourself focusing on the surroundings zipping by you instead of looking at your dad. You had suggested to Mateo that he attempt to form some kind of bond with Javy and you could only hope that you were able to get through to him.

“Sorry. I didn’t realise Javy was struggling. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologise once more, barely able to look over at your dad as he shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. It’s on me for letting you down. I think your anger was warranted.” Jake says with a small smile, briefly glancing over at you as you nod slightly.

“I’m still sorry. I hope Javy is doing okay.” You say softly as Jake turns the car down the road your house is on.

“I spoke to him at work today, he seemed happier. He told me Mateo made the effort to talk to him last night over dinner.” Jake says as you smile lightly, relieved to hear that Mateo has listened to what you said and tried talking to his dad. After Jake had parked on the driveway, you both get out of the car and before Jake could begin to head towards the front door, you round the car quickly and trap your dad in a hug, holding him tightly.

“I love you, Dad.” You say as Jake wraps his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, y/n. Are we good now?” Jake replies softly, pulling away slightly so he can look down at you.

“We’re good now.” You confirm with a smile, hugging your dad one last time before you pull away and head into the house where Bradley is standing in the hall with a smile and folded arms.

“Have you two finally made up now?” Bradley asks, quirking an eyebrow as the two of you nod lightly, smiles gracing all of your faces.

“We have,” Jake says, crossing to Bradley to press a soft kiss to his lips while you take your shoes off and excuse yourself to your room, claiming to want to do homework but all you wanted to do was text Mateo, leaving your dad’s downstairs.

Over time, your relationship with Mateo began to develop. You found it difficult, constantly having to sneak around when you were at school or around your parents. You had decided to make it known that you and Mateo were now on friendlier terms, but you had to keep your PDA on the down low and you often found yourselves having to go around to each other’s houses if you knew you had an empty house.

However, thinking you were alone ended up being the reason you both got caught.

“Hey, Darling.” Mateo greeted you at the door before you even got the chance to knock on the front door.

“Hey, Asshat.” You say teasingly barely stepping through the door before Mateo’s lips connect with yours, his hands reaching for your waist to pull you closer, slamming the door behind you the moment you cross the threshold.

You decided to forgo heading upstairs so you went into the living room, your lips barely pulling apart as the two of you strumbled through the house before you ended up on the couch. The two of you continued to make out, only pulling apart for brief seconds for air before reconnecting your lips, your arms wound around Mateo’s neck, attempting to pull him closer while Mateo’s hands tangled in your hair. The two of you were oblivious to the world around you, in your head it was just you and Mateo and nothing else mattered. What you didn’t acknowledge, was the sound of the keys in the door and the sound of the door opening.

“What the hell is going on here?” You both leap apart at the sound of Javy’s shocked voice, your eyes wide as you look over at him.

“I… we…” you start, glancing from Mateo to Javy and then back again.

“I mean is it not obvious? You do have eyes.” Mateo answers as if he were answering a simple question, leaning back against the couch, one arm lying along the back behind you as if he were waiting for an opportunity to hold you.

“I could do without the attitude, Mateo.” Javy exhales, his hand coming up to rub at his brow, already beginning to feel a headache forming.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Mateo says with a shrug.

“How long has this been going on?” Javy asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“A couple of weeks?” You reply, your answer coming more as a question as you sheepishly watch Javy who sighs.

“You know what? I’m not going to question you any more. I just wanted to come home and grab something. I’ll leave you alone. Just… be safe if you’re going to do anything.” Javy says pointing at the two of you as you feel your face heat up while Mateo rolls his eyes and Javy grabs what he had forgotten and makes his way towards the front door to make his exit.

As Javy exits the house and makes his way towards his car, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing a message to Jake.

‘Did you know our kids were dating?’

At the sound of his phone buzzing, Jake grabs his phone off the table, glancing up at Bradley apologetically before looking down at his phone, his eyebrows furrowing before he flipped his phone around to show Bradley.

“What the hell?”

taglist (comment or ask to be tagged):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak @tsnelf7 @starkleila @cassadilasworld @shanimallina87 @madstxo @chaoticassidy @padsdarlg @lauraseresin @alohastitch0626 @angelbabyange @kmc1989

[avastrasposts]

Bona Dea - part 5 The End

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on.

Series master list

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 8.4k

A/N: Fifth and final part of Bona Dea (at least until I watch the film next Sunday and start making up new stories....). All happy endings here! Please come tell me your thoughts, yell in my inbox, ask me about all the strange Roman customs I squeezed in here, I'd love to hear from you all!

A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Caligae - typical Roman sandals Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Sepmer - always Amica mea/Amica meus - "my love" in female and male form Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia - Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius - Wherever you are, I will be

The next morning, just after you’d finished breakfast with the family and Alba, one of the servants came in to announce a guest. Your heart caught in your throat when you heard the name. Alba gasped loudly and it made Titus look up at first her and then you, when he saw your shocked faces, he quickly understood something was not right. 

“Who is he?” he asked, rising to his feet as you did the same. 

“My father,” you replied, your hands shaking as you smoothed down your stola, “I didn’t think he’d risk the journey, but it seems I was wrong.” 

“Siro,” Titus called to the servant who had brought the news, “Send word to general Acacius at once, tell him Domina Lunaris’ father is here and he should come at once to meet the father of his bride,” his words were light but the grim tone spoke volumes 

Titus gave you a reassuring look as Siro left the room, “Don’t worry, Marcus will come as quickly as he can and make sure your father does not interfere.” 

“We’ll come with you to meet your father,” Antonia told you, coming to your side with Alba and taking your hand, “You won’t have to face him alone, and Marcus will be here soon.” 

“Thank you both,” you replied, still nervously smoothing down your stola. Alba squeezed your hand and gave you a scared look. 

“He can’t say anything, can he? You’re a widow now, and under the protection of general Acacius.” 

“She’s not just under his protection,” Titus said, “She’s his betrothed, he’s given her a ring and shown Rome that she belongs to him now,” he beckoned you all to follow him, “Come, let’s see what your father has to say and show him that you are not some lost young girl.” 

Your father was seated in the reception room and stood up as Titius walked in through the door, and then you, arm in arm with Antonia. 

“Nerius Vernio,” Titus greeted him, “Welcome to my home.” 

The two men bowed and Titus introduced himself and his wife as your father eyed you. You dropped your eyes to the floor and curtsied low. 

“Father, I didn’t know you were coming to Rome, I hope your journey was uneventful,” you greeted him and he gave you a cursory nod. 

“Daughter, I’ve written and requested for you to return home several times, but my letters have gone unanswered,” he said and then turned to Titus, “Aurelius, I’m grateful you’ve taken in my daughter and her cousin after the bandits attack that took her husband’s life. I’ve arranged for accommodation for us and I’ll take her into my care now.” 

You immediately shook your head but your father ignored you, “Alba, pack up both of your belongings, I have a letica waiting for  us outside.” 

“No, father, I’m not-” you began to protest, but Titus interrupted. 

“Vernio, there is no need for them to leave, we are happy to have them stay and they’ve both become very good friends of my wife. And your daughter has made a very happy connection while in Rome. And-” 

“I’ve heard of this connection, and the upcoming wedding,” your father snapped, his eyes on you and not Titus, “But you are still my daughter and you belong to my family and I will not allow you to marry anyone without my consent.” 

“Father, I’m a widow and can choose my own husband now,” you replied, but he shook his head, interrupting you again. 

“No. You will come back home, we will set Lunaris affairs on order and then I will choose a new husband for you,” Vernio was grabbing at your arm now, ushering Alba at the same time, trying to make you leave, “I will not have you dishonour our family name by running off and remarrying mere days after your husband dies.”

You tried to dig your heels in, and Antonia was reluctant to let go of your arm, “Please, father, I am not going back. I don’t care what tradition says, I’ve found a good man to marry, many times better than Lunaris and I love him.” 

He scoffed in reply, looking at you with contempt, “Love? When did love ever play a part in marriage? You’ll marry who I choose and if the gods will it, you’ll grow to love your new husband as much as you did Lunaris.” 

“I never loved Lunaris,” you cried, pulling to get your arm back now as your father looked close to slapping you in his anger, Titus looked appalled and stepped in to calm the situation. 

“Please, Verio, your daughter is allowed to have a mind of her own, she is no young maid going to her first marriage,” he said, placing a hand on your arm, “Both law and tradition says a widow can choose to marry whom she wants.” 

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity by the door of the reception room and the next thing you knew, Marcus was striding over to you, his face dark with rage. He was dressed in his full armour, the dark leather decorated with the intimidating Medusa, his gladius hanging on his hip. The sight made your father abruptly drop your arm and take several steps back as Marcus reached your side and immediately cupped your cheeks. 

“Amica mea, I came as fast as I could,” he said, looking only at you and not acknowledging your father with as much as a glance. 

“Thank you, amor,” you replied, smiling up at Marcus and taking immense satisfaction in the way your father seemed to be almost cowering from Marcus’ imposing form. It felt like having a fearsome lion as protection, storming in with a roar and making sure everyone knew that you were his to protect. 

“My father has arrived,” you said finally, after Marcus had dropped his hand to your waist and turned to the room with you securely in his arms, “Father, I’m pleased to introduce you to my betrothed, general Marcus Acacius. General, this is my father Fabius Nerius Vernio.” 

“Vernio,” Marcus said, giving your father a short nod. Vernio on his hand seemed to have lost his ability to speak, he only stared at Marcus. 

Marcus continued to look at Vernio with thinly veiled rage, and your father seemed no closer to finding his tongue and the room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. You were delighted seeing your father squirm under Marcus’ sharp eyes and had no intention of easing his uncomfort. Eventually it was Titus, ever the diplomat, who broke the silence. 

“General Acacius is one of Rome’s most celebrated military commanders, and enjoys great favour from the emperors. I’m sure you can understand that your daughter is making a very wise choice in accepting his proposal,” he said, almost imperceptibly and gently ushering your father towards the door of the room. 

“I’m still her father and I can’t allow her to marry some stranger,” he protested weakly, “Lunaris estate must be taken care of.” 

“Oh, so that’s where your concern is!” you exclaimed, only Marcus’ arm around your waist stopped you from stepping closer to your father, Marcus tightened his grip and held you back. “You only want Lunaris’ assets so that you can marry me off to someone with lands next to the olive groves!” 

Next to you, you felt more than heard Marcus’ growl. Your father tried to bring himself under control and took hold of the edge of his toga, nervously adjusting it on his shoulder. Under Marcus’ glare he seemed pitiful. 

“Your daughter will want for nothing when she is my wife,” Marcus said, his tone betraying that he had no patience for this conversation, “If it’s money you want to let her go, then you can have whatever you want. Unlike you, my only aim is to make her happy and I don’t need money for that.” 

He turned to Titus as he took your hand in his, “I’m taking my future wife to the temple to prepare for the ceremony, I trust you to have evacuated your guest when we return, Titus.” 

Titus gave him a smirk, a look exchanged between the two old friends that spoke volumes, “Of course, general Acacius.” 

And with that Marcus led you from the room, stepping between you and your father as you passed by him, you kept your eyes from him, not wishing to see his reaction.

Later, when you reclined next to Marcus in his private reception room, you went over the events in your mind. After Marcus and you had left Titus’ villa he’d taken you to visit the temple of Juno to honour the goddess of love and marriage. On the day of your wedding you’d have a ceremony at the temple of Jupiter, but it felt right to honour Juno and ask her to protect your love for each other after your father’s anger today. 

Afterwards Marcus had asked if you wanted to see his villa, the place you would effectively be taking control of once you were married. So now you sat next to him in his private rooms, picking at the food the servants had brought from the kitchen.

“I think, in reality, he loves the idea of a great Roman general as husband to his daughter,” you told Marcus, thinking of your father, “both he and Lunaris were obsessed with power and you’re certainly more powerful than Lunaris ever was.” 

“He didn’t seem too keen today though,” Marcus replied as he pulled you closer on the seat you were on, “You’d think his daughter was marrying a homeless sewage collector.” 

“I think he was mostly angry that he had no say in it, he hates not being in control,” you said, “but I won’t let him ruin this. I’m marrying you and I’d marry you even if you were a sewage collector.” 

Marcus chuckled at that and playfully pinched your nose between his thumb and forefinger, “But you’d make me bathe every day before I came home? Or would you let me into your bed smelling like the excrements of Rome?” 

He laughed as you giggled and squirmed under his grip, finally letting go and capturing your smiling mouth in a tender kiss. 

“Would you love me even if I smelled like shit, carissime?” he asked with a mischievous grin. 

“Maybe a smidgen less,” you laughed, accepting his insistent kisses along your neck. 

He kept you occupied in that way for some time until it was time for you to return to Titus’ villa. Your lips were swollen and your hair less than smooth as he escorted you through the gates. 

“How are the preparations for the wedding going?” he asked, walking next to you with his hands clasped behind his back, keeping his roaming paws to himself to stop too many rumours to spread amongst the slaves at the villa. 

“We are almost done, the clothes are prepared, Antonia has made the wreaths for our heads, and the jewellery will be delivered tomorrow,” you replied. The big door was opened by an unseen slave and light spilled out onto the courtyard, “Will you come in?” you asked. 

“Yes, I need to discuss something with Titus,” Marcus said, “But I’ll say good night to you now, my love, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

“I wish it was our wedding day tomorrow,” you smiled, “I don’t want to wait any longer to be your wife.” 

Marcus smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Sleep well, amica mea.” 

Alba woke you up the next morning, insisting on an early visit to the villa’s thermae, dragging your sleepy form along. 

“Antonia and I want to make sure your wedding day is perfect so we’re rehearsing it all today,” she said, “do all the steps so that we have time to make changes.” 

“Sounds sensible,” you yawned, “but why so early and why do we start in the baths?” 

“Because there will be a lot of standing around getting adjusted today so we’re starting with a relaxing bath and massage.” 

You were too tired to question her and both the massage and bath were enough to put you back to sleep, snoring lightly on the marble slab until Alba woke you up again. Antonia then greeted you in the largest reception room, where the servants had just finished setting up a light meal. So while you tried to nibble on sweet dates, you were shrouded in all your wedding finery. A brand new, pure white tunic was pulled over your head and your hair then fiddled with while you yawned again. Alba and Antonia were debating how to best braid your hair while making the customary flammeum, the bridal veil, stay attached. It would be seen as a very bad omen if it fell off. You had to squint to see through the fabric as they finally agreed on how to fasten it. 

You admired the white tunic and the bright yellow veil in the polished brass mirror that was being held up in front of you. You remembered how much you’d hated it on your first wedding day, now you smiled at your reflection as Antonia tied the belt securely around your waist until you realised what she was doing. 

“No, wait, don’t tie that yet. Only Marcus is supposed to untie it and the wedding isn’t for another three days,” you protested, but it was too late, the Hercules knot was securely in place.  

“You’ll just have to stay in your wedding clothes until your wedding night then,” Antonia laughed and you frowned at her, untying the knot was a major part of the ceremony once the newlyweds were alone in their new home. Only when the husband untied the knot and slept with his wife for the first time were they truly married in the eyes of Rome and the gods. 

You were about to protest again as the doors to the room slammed open and Titus rushed in. 

“Protect the bride!” he called in a dramatic voice, throwing his arms up in the air as Marcus stepped in behind him and pushed him aside with a grin. 

“No man will stop me from robbing this woman away from her family and making her mine,” he called, striding over to you with long steps, mischief glinting in his eyes as Alba and Antonia tried to hide the bright smiles. 

“What are you doing?” you laughed, “The wedding isn’t for another three days.” Tradition held that the groom would pretend to steal his bride away from her family, and the bride should act as if she was both sad to be taken from her home, but also excited to begin her new life. But now he was three days early and you were confused when he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him towards the door as Titus pretended to try to stop him from leaving. 

“I’m claiming you as mine, we will go to the temple of Jupiter this very day and let the gods know that you will be my wife from this day on,” Marcus said, keeping the tradition with a stern voice, but you could see the glint in his eyes. He pushed Titus to the side, who made a big show of falling to the floor and Antonia ran over to him, pleading with the gods to stop Marcus. The smile she gave you made you realise she’d been in on it all along and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing out loud. Marcus had taken your hand in his and now he was ushering you along the hall, across the courtyard and into his carriage. He helped you step inside and you managed to wave to Titus and  his family who had followed. Now they were throwing walnuts over your heads as the family’s slaves joined in, shouting well wishings. You suddenly realised, you were getting married today, somehow Marcus and Titus had moved things forward, and now you were on your way to the ceremony. 

Marcus climbed into the carriage and you couldn’t help beaming up at him. He was dressed in white armour adorned with gold details and he was grinning widely at you as he pulled you into his side, laughing as more walnuts rained down over the carriage. 

The procession to the temple of Jupiter was filled with blessings called to you both from the people on the streets, many joining in behind you together with Titus and his family. By the time you arrived in the square before the temple of Jupiter, the crowd was pretty large. The flamen Dialis, the head priest of Jupiter, stood at the top of the stairs, awaiting your arrival together with his wife. 

“You changed all the plans,” you said to Marcus as the carriage made a lap around the square. 

“I talked to Titus and he sent out messengers last night,” he replied, his smile disappearing as he looked at you with serious eyes, “We didn’t want to risk your father trying to disrupt the events. Neither Titus nor I trust him to not try to influence someone to get control over both you and Lunaris’ assets,” he cupped your cheek and let his thumb caress your skin, “And honestly, I was tired of waiting for you to be my wife, we have spent enough days apart, now I want you to be mine.” 

“Then let's pay our respects to Jupiter so that you can take me to our home,” you smiled at him and he smiled back. 

The carriage came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and Marcus tenderly kissed your forehead before he took your hand and helped you step down. The large crowd cheered as you began to climb the stairs, Titus’ family and Alba behind you. At the top of the stairs you stopped in front of the Dialis and he called up Jupiter to make your marriage a long and happy one. Two slaves brought forward a sow and the auspex performed the sacrifice to the god Ceres, reading the entrails of the dead animal as its blood dripped down the stairs. After much humming and mumbling, he finally stood up straight and loudly declared the omens to be good, loud enough for the crowd to hear. A big cheer erupted and you saw Marcus smile from the corner of your eye. He took your hand and turned you so that you were facing him, and the Dialis told you it was time for the groom to look upon his bride. 

Up until now you’d enjoyed the spectacle, it felt like your first real wedding day, not the unhappy day you’d married Lunaris. But now suddenly you felt the weight of the moment, emotions racing to the surface as you looked up at Marcus. He could only see the shadows of your features through the veil, but his smile was warm and tender, his eyes soft, as if he could see through the veil and into your nervously beating heart as you lifted your shaking hands and removed the flammeum.  

“Semper amare,” he whispered, so low that only you could hear it, and his words filled you with calm as you slowly lifted the bright yellow veil from your face. Stillness filled your mind as you met his eyes and you smiled back at him and took a deep breath. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you said, your voice loud and clear, carrying across the square. 

Marcus reached out and took your hands in his and replied as was the tradition; 

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

His voice also carried across the square and the crowd cheered as the Dialis cleared his throat and looked pointedly at where Marcus was holding your hands. 

“General, you need to let go of her so that I can initiate the dextratum iunctio,” he said and Marcus chuckled, dropping your hands. 

“I got carried away, apologies.” 

The Dialis took your hand and then Marcus’ and joined them together again. 

“Your hands are joined in the concordia, the mutual bond of affection and marriage. Now offer this bread to Jupiter.” 

He held out a small piece of round bread to Marcus, who let go of your hand. With a grin, he broke the bread over your head, showering you with crumbs before offering you a piece to eat. The bread was dry but you smiled back at him as you chewed and swallowed it down as Marcus did the same. 

The Dialis brought forward a tablet and you both signed the papyrus, marking your names to the contract that would now bind you together in Roman law. The last time it had felt like a death sentence, reluctantly scraping your pen over the surface. Now it felt like you were signing your release papers, setting you free from your father’s influence and becoming a part of Marcus’ family, his name now attached to yours. Marcus moved closer as you placed the pen on the table, his arm over your shoulder, as a sign to the crowd behind you that you were now under his protection.

Together you walked back down the stairs towards the carriage, the crowd had swelled and they cheered as they saw the patrician newlyweds. Again Marcus helped you up into the carriage and then waved at the crowd as his driver turned back up to the Palatine, this time returning to his villa. 

The crowd followed you all the way back, continuing to shout blessings. When you performed the rituals of entering the house the first time as mistress of it, blessings of good omens showered over you. Marcus picked you up, lifting you into his arms with a big smile and carried you not just into the courtyard and house, but all the way into the reception hall, followed by Titus’ and his family and a few of Marcus’ closest officers who had been told at the last minute that the wedding was changing days. 

The feast was a small affair, just as Marcus had promised you. Alba sat across from you at the best table together with Titus and Antonia while their children chatted away at another table. And although the food was excellent, and the wild stories about Marcus from his closest friends made you laugh until your sides ached, you wanted nothing more than for it to end so that you could have Marcus to yourself and perform the final part of the wedding ceremony. 

But there was one detail that made you want to stay a little bit longer. A young man, only a few years older than Alba, caught your eye. He was looking at Alba with admiration as she told him about a weaving technique she’d been taught. For a young man to be so immersed in weaving could only mean one thing, and you carefully nudged Marcus to look in the man’s direction. He gave a low chuckle when he saw the way the boy seemed to hang on to Alba’s every word. 

“Octavian Livius Catius,” he whispered close to your ear, “A junior in my army and Titus’ mentee. He comes from a fairly low birth but he has a good career in front of him, Alba could do much worse if she wishes to marry.” 

“Is he a good man?” you asked, keeping your voice low as you tried to glance at the two of them without being seen. 

“He is, Titus says he has good morals and a stable head, he’s fostering him to become a strategist too. And of course, since we’ve been away for two years, he’s well past the age most boys marry, I’m sure he’s looking for a future wife.” 

“Only if Alba wants him,” you replied immediately, “She’s in my care and I won’t let her be married off without her consent.”

“I would expect nothing less, domina,” Marcus mumbled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Now, I think we have been polite enough to our guests, let’s leave.” 

Taking your hand, he stood and pulled you to your feet as the small group of guests grew quiet. 

“I’m now fortunate enough to call this incredible woman ‘my wife’, he said, addressing the room, “And it is time for our final ceremony and to honour the gods, to thank them for bringing us together and letting us have this happy day.” 

He smiled down at you as he continued to speak, “Never could I have imagined that a chance meeting on a dark street would lead me to such a happy end. I’m still not convinced you’re not Venus stepped down among us mortals.” 

You squeezed his hand and brought it to your lips for a kiss as you felt heat rise in your cheeks at his praise. 

“Please, enjoy each other’s company, the wine, the food, have a glorious evening,” Marcus told the guests and then turned to you again, “Come, wife,” he smiled at the word, “let me untie the knot.” 

Titus raised his glass and cheered, and the others joined in as Alba got to her feet and gave you a big hug, wrapping her arms tight around you. 

“I’m so happy for you both,” she said and kissed your cheek. 

“Thank you, my darling Alba,” you replied, “and his name is Octavian and Marcus says he’s a good man,” you added with a whisper in her ear, smiling as you pulled away and looked at her. Her cheeks went red as she giggled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grinned and gave you a little push, “Now go with your husband and tell me everything tomorrow.” 

Behind you, you heard Marcus chuckle at Alba’s comment, and his hand took a firmer hold of yours. “I agree with your cousin, come now, carissime, I have waited long enough.”  

He wrapped his arms around you as he guided you through the villa, towards one of the few rooms you had yet to see in what was now your new home; his private bedroom. It sat on the second floor and as the short December day was nearing the end, the sun glowed golden outside the windows. One of the servants had lit the oil lamps in the room and they filled it with a warm light, illuminating the warm colours of mosaics that decorated the walls. Thick rugs covered the floor and the bed was draped in soft looking blankets and pillows to warm against the cold night outside. 

Marcus closed the door behind the two of you and let out a deep breath that made you turn towards him. 

“Why such a deep sigh?” you asked and he gave you a small smile as he took your hand again and led you to the bed and sat down. 

“It’s a relief to close the door, to finally have you to myself, as my wife,” he said, “I didn’t realise until yesterday how much I’d feared that something would hinder our wedding. But when your father turned up…” Marcus sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face, “I knew I had to act fast, I hope you didn’t mind the surprise this morning.” 

You smiled at him and cupped his cheeks with both your hands, smoothing out his worried frown, “Not at all, if anything I’m delighted I didn’t have to wait another three days. Now, untie this knot and prove your virility,” you teased, “Antonia made it very tight so I hope you’re up for the task.” 

Marcus laughed and took your hand, making you lie down in the middle of the bed as he sat next to you. 

“I’d say you already know my virility is just fine enough,” he said, his smile turning more mischievous as he let his eyes roam over your body. The look in his eyes made your skin tingle and you sighed when he finally put his hands on you properly and caressed your curves. He toyed with the belt, tugging at it to pull you closer as he leaned forward. 

“Marcus….” you said, your voice a low whine when he pressed his lips to your cheek instead of your lips, his hands still not touching the knot.

“Patience, domina,” he hummed, pulling away and getting to his feet, his eyes darker now. 

With slow, practised movements he unwound the long toga from around his body, laying it on the seat next to the bed, loosening his belt and caligae next. When he pulled the tunic over his head, you held your breath, it had been so long since you last saw him fully naked and standing tall in front of you. He was just as glorious as the first time, his strong body littered with scars, his posture proud and powerful like the statues of Mars in the temple. 

He smirked at the way your hungry eyes drifted across his body, from his wide shoulders, over his chest and down to where his heavy cock was rapidly growing. When he put his knee on the bed and crawled over your body, your insides squirmed and his grin widened. He knew the effect he was having on you and he planned on taking it slow on this first time as a married couple. 

“Domina…” he all but purred, lowering himself onto his forearms and caging you underneath him. You were still fully clothed and writhing with impatience as he dipped his mouth to your neck, his tongue slipping out to taste the sensitive skin under your ear, a wet kiss following. 

“Marcus…” you pleaded again as he moved further down your body, his hands caressing and kneading as his teeth nipped through the thin fabric of your stola. 

“Patience is a virtue, mi amor,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice against your breasts. 

Your breath was coming in short huffs, and you struggled to stay still, as he reached the knot in your belt. He was kissing your body around the knot, through the fabric, his hands stroking your thighs, reaching up under the stola and grabbing at your hips. His body was nestled between your legs but still he wasn’t touching you where you needed him the most, and with an impatient whine, you arched yourself up against him, seeking any friction. 

Marcus growled, and grabbed both your hips, pinning you down with his weight, “Patience…” he smirked.

He began to mouth at the ornate knot in your belt, keeping you where he wanted you with a strong grip. The edge of the stola was pressed into your core by his firm chest and you could feel how you’d soaked through your undergarments already. With a moan you reached down and grabbed at Marcus’ bare shoulders, urging him to move faster even though you knew he was intent on taking it at his own slow pace tonight. 

When you glanced down to see him stretched out between your legs, you were met by the sight of the strong planes of his back working as he held you down, his teeth grabbing the knot and pulling it loose. With a wicked grin he flashed you a look, before he began to work the stola up over your hips, the belt falling loose to the sides.

He pushed up to his knees and pulled the stola with him, finally freeing you of it as it slipped over your head. With an impatient wave you tossed it over the side of the bed and reached up for Marcus again, willing him to kiss you and sink his hard cock into you, you could feel the heated drag of it over your thigh. But he ignored your hands, instead he grabbed your thighs and spread them, sinking down with his eyes fixed on your centre.

“Carissime, I’ve missed this sight,” he hummed, slowly dragging a finger through your slick folds, reaching the aching pearl at the top and circling it as he looked up at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, your mouth open and panting. It made his cock twitch to see you so laid out for him, and with all the time in the world to pull you apart and make you cry his name in pleasure. 

Your warm thigh rested on his shoulder as he leaned in closer, brushing his nose over your soft curls and tasting the salty liquid. A shuddering breath left your lungs as you seemed to melt into the bed at the sensation, and Marcus licked a wide stripe up your centre, making you gasp again. 

His fingers spread you open, making more room for his tongue, and methodically he began to explore your cunt in earnest, taking the time he hadn’t had on the night of Bona Dea. Every sound you made, your whimpered pleas and moaned cries of his name, it made him try even harder, his own arousal aching and pressed against the bed. Your hands found his hair and he groaned when you pulled him closer, burying his face in your cunt, driving his tongue in as deep as he could while you made his nose rub against the swollen nub at the apex of your sex. 

“Marcus…please….” you panted, your skin flushed and hot as you felt yourself begin to crest the wave he was building up. 

“Carissime, you taste so good,” he mumbled into your flesh, moving his tongue up to lap at your most sensitive part, “so sweet and delicate, my wife’s perfect cunt.” 

With a deep breath he began to suck at the puffy button, his fingers digging into your thighs and pushing them wide, burying his face between your legs with a growl. 

His mouth seemed to be making red hot flames shoot out through your body, your hands tightening their grip on his curls as shockwaves rocked through your limbs. Crying out, you threw your head back, his name the only word you could muster and each lick and suck from Marcus brought fresh moans of pleasure from you until your throat felt raw and dry. He was working you into hysteria where all that existed was his mouth and the way he made your body sing. 

You pulled tight like a bow string and with a strangled cry of his name, you snapped, sobbing as Marcus continued to lick and suck at your cunt, clenching around nothing. Your body was begging for him to fill you up as the orgasm coursed through you, but your mind couldn’t find the words, there were only stars streaming across your field of vision as your body shook and trembled under his tongue. 

Panting hard you finally fell back against the bed, your taught body relaxing in Marcus grip and he gave your folds a few soft kisses before he pulled back. With a low chuckle, he nuzzled your thigh, trailing sticky kisses across the hot skin as he made his way up to lie next to you. 

“My sweet wife…are you still with me? Do you think you’re wet enough to take my cock now?” he smiled as he pressed kisses to your cheek and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your body felt like liquid and Marcus chuckled again as you smiled back up at him with half closed eyes, unable to form a coherent response yet.  

“It seems I did a proper job as husband,” he said, letting you pull him closer, “Are you satisfied, wife?” 

“No, husband,” you replied, seeking his mouth out for a slow kiss, “You did good, but I know how good it feels to have you fill me up, and now nothing else will do.” 

Marcus smiled and caressed your cheek as he moved to cage you under his wide shoulders again, your arms around his neck. 

“I want to take you slowly, feel every part of it,” he said in a low voice as you spread your legs to make room for him, the weight of his cock pressed against your core, “feel your kisses when I fuck you deep into our bed, feel every tremble in your body as I fill you up again and again, keep you here underneath me until we forget everything except this.” 

He rolled his hips, the fat tip of his cock catching against your opening, making you both hiss. 

“Nothing exists except you, Marcus,” you whispered, cupping his face between your palms as he moved again. The head of his cock breached your tight hole and you could feel his jaws clench under your hands, a tight breath escaping him. 

“You feel so good, Marcus, amica meus,” you mumbled, caressing his soft beard, tracing your thumb over his plush lips. The feel of him slowly pushing inside made your core clench, your hips trying to rise up to meet him, but his heavy weight kept you pinned underneath him, your legs locked around his waist. With a groan he squeezed his eyes shut and drove himself in to the hilt, the liquid heat of your tight cunt closing around him. 

“Gods, domina…” he panted, “keep me in your bed and let me fuck you, let me always feel this tight cunt around my cock, it’s all I ask, and I’ll be the happiest man in the world…” he rambled. “So tight and wet and hot, my sweet wife’s cunt has me on my knees until it milks me dry…” 

He slid out and drove himself in again with a loud groan, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he buried his face against your neck, “Goddess…” he moaned and you felt his mouth suck at your skin as he rocked himself into you, his cock filling you up and making you gasp every time he sheathed himself fully.  

Your hands grabbed at his back, his golden skin warm and damp to the touch as you dug your fingers into his tightly wound muscles. Over you he was unravelling, mumbling into your neck between kisses and bites, his control slipping as he continued to fuck you, lost in his own haze of lust. He came up for a deep breath of air and leaned his forehead against yours, his dark brown eyes locked on yours as his hips continued to thrust his hard cock into you, your breaths mingling as you both gasped at each impact. 

“Amica mea, I love you, my wife, I can’t believe you're finally my wife,” he mumbled, his hands gripping your shoulders and pulling you down on to him again and again. 

“I love you too. My husband,” you whispered between gasps, “amica meus, semper.” 

Marcus pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue slipping between your lips as he picked up his pace, and you squeezed your legs tight around his waist. The coarse hairs around his cock were rubbing against your swollen pearl, each slide making sparks ignite and shoot out all the way to your fingertips, even your toes were curling at the impact of his cock deep inside your weeping cunt. 

The pace grew frantic, Marcus groaned loudly, pressing his mouth against yours as his body began to tremble, he was gasping, slamming his cock into you, chasing his release as you cried out underneath him. He was hitting a new spot deep inside, new stars appeared in your field of vision but you tried to keep your eyes open and watch your husband as he began to come undone. His eyebrows pulled tight, his hips stuttering into yours, he dug his fingers almost painfully hard into your shoulders as he grimaced and cried out. With a loud shout he slammed into your cunt a final time, grinding deep inside as your own climax hit again. He rolled his hips over yours, milking himself and pushing you through each wave of pleasure as it washed over your bodies. 

He was heavy on top as he finally relaxed, his body hot and sticky with your arms and legs wrapped around him. He could feel your hands begin caress him, slowly bringing him back from the haze that had taken over his mind as he finally let go and fucked you as hard as he needed too. The heavy thumping of his heart echoed in his ears and he knew he should move, but you didn’t seem to mind his body pushing you into the mattress. So instead he turned his head and leaned his cheek against your chest, his softening cock slipping out, making him hiss. He felt you press a kiss to the top of his head, his hair damp, and your fingers raked carefully across his scalp. 

“You make me happy, Marcus,” you mumbled against his soft curls, “so happy.” 

He sighed against your warm skin, a long, content exhale, “Then I’m happy too, carissime.” 

With another sigh he pushed himself up on his forearms, smiling down at you underneath him. His hair was a halo of dark curls, his eyes soft and warm, and you cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for another kiss. Your lips felt swollen and tender but you still moaned with satisfaction when he licked into your mouth and deepened the kiss. It took several long moments before you both were satiated again and he carefully rolled off you and got out of the bed.  

“Let me clean us both off, I’m too tired to go to the thermae now,” he said, going over to the wash basin and picking up one of the washcloths. 

Your body felt loose and almost as if in a liquid state as he began to gently wipe the cool cloth over your skin. You hummed and smiled at him as he paid extra attention to the white liquid slowly dripping from between your legs. 

“Proud of your work, husband?” you teased him and he chuckled, running the cloth between your legs again and making sure to apply just a little bit too much pressure to your most sensitive area. You hissed and arched against his hand. 

“If I was a younger man, the sight would make me hard enough to do it again,” he replied, grabbing at your hips to make you spread your legs for him, “such a perfect cunt…”

He smiled at you and began to wipe himself down, running the cloth over his soft cock as you admired the sight. 

“Next time, I want to do that,” you said, watching as he pulled back the skin to clean himself. 

“Next time, I want your mouth around it,” he replied, and the look that he gave you, made heat shot through you again. 

Marcus grinned and tossed the washcloth to the side and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over you both this time. His body was warm and firm as he made space for you, his arms pulling you into his chest. 

“We have all the time in the world now, carissime,” he said, his lips close to yours as you looked up at him, “And I intended to make good on my promise to keep you in my bed night and day.” 

“I only have one more thing that’s going to make me leave this bed,” you said, smiling at his confused look and pressing your lips to his when he opened them to ask. 

“Later,” you mumbled, “now I want more kisses from my husband.” 

Marcus chuckled and you could feel the rumble in his chest, “Anything for you, wife.” 

The people going about their daily business outside the great structure of Circus Maximus may have stopped and looked an extra time as the patrician carriage drew to a halt outside the wall of the nearby temple. The general who stepped out was dressed in his formal armour, the white and gold shimmering under the bright sky. The woman he helped down with a gentle hold on her hand, was dressed in a similarly rich stola, the veil loosely wrapped around her head but leaving her face bare. 

“Here we are, carissime,” Marcus said, putting his arm around your waist and leading you to the entrance of the temple, “I’ll be waiting outside, let Bona Dea know I’m forever her servant too and that I apologise for delaying our visit to her temple for a full two weeks.” 

“I will, my love,” you smiled at him, “And I’m sure she understands that newlyweds have trouble leaving the house. I only wish you could be allowed inside the temple too.” 

“The rules of Bona Dea must be obeyed,” he laughed, “I learnt that in the best way possible.” 

You laughed with him and gave him a quick peck on his smiling lips, before leaving him behind and entering the temple grounds. 

Alba followed close behind as the vestal virgin returned your bows, and then led you up the stairs and into the sacred rooms. In the package you carried were cakes and breads you’d made yourself that very morning, using the best ingredients that could be found in the market. Alba carried an amphora of olive oil, and one of wine, the finest Marcus had in his storage, and as you reached the great altar, you both placed your offerings on the ground. 

The priestesses began the rituals and you gazed up at the marble statue standing tall behind the altar. The cornucopia in her left arm was overflowing, a symbol of her generosity, and in her right was a bowl, a snake feeding from it, a sign of her healing powers. The goddess had certainly been both generous and healing when dealing with you and Marcus, and it was time to repay her and honour her influence. 

“I thought I was trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life,” you said, looking up at Bona Dea, “No children to distract me, just a vile man who blamed me for my barren womb, and made me question why I should even wake up each morning. But you brought Marcus into my life and steered his actions, making it possible for us to be together as husband and wife. And for this, both him and I will forever be your most humble servants.” 

The priestess tossed the bread and the cakes into the sacrificial flames, making it hiss and spit as Bona Dea accepted your gifts. 

“And I have one final prayer for you, Bona Dea,” you said, kneeling down as Alba looked on in surprise. 

The cool marble of the floor was smooth under your forehead as you prostrated yourself fully at the feet of the goddess. You closed your eyes and sent up a silent prayer, the smoke of the sacrifice in your nose, the silence of the temple heavy in your ears. The gods had never spoken to you, but as you sent up your plea to the one who seemed to have seen you at your most miserable, and sent a saviour, a calm came over you, a sense of completion. 

You took a few deep breaths, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill, and then sat up onto your heels. 

“Thank you.” 

The sunlight was still sharp as you left the temple, and you pulled up your veil to shield your eyes. Marcus was standing next to the carriage with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture straight. You had come to recognise this as his ‘public persona’, the powerful general who expected everyone to obey him. In private, he softened whenever you were near, and became the Marcus you loved more with every minute that passed.

“Carissime,” he smiled as you and Alba came out from the temple gates, “all done?” 

“Yes, husband, the goddess accepted our sacrifice and the priestesses seemed most pleased with the generous contribution.” 

You took his hand and held him back as Alba stepped into the carriage. 

“Bona Dea has given us another gift,” you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows in question as he leaned closer to you. 

“Another gift?” he asked and you brought his hand to the front of your stola, his eyes widening. 

“I always thought I was barren, but now someone grows inside me thanks to her healing powers.”

Marcus stepped closer, his arms going around your waist as he pressed his palm across your belly as if he could already feel the heartbeat of the child within. 

“Truly?” he whispered, his wide eyes filled with hope. 

“I’ve missed my courses twice since our first night, it’s still early days, but yes, truly,” you smiled up at him. 

“Carissime…” he whispered again, bringing his hands up to cup your face, pressing his lips to yours, “I thought I couldn’t be happier but now I feel like my heart will explode.” 

He pulled back a little, you could feel tears spilling over and rolling onto your cheeks, and he wiped at them with his thumbs. 

“Are you happy, amica mea?” 

“Yes, Marcus, you make me very happy,” you smiled through your tears, “And it makes me even happier to have a new family with you.”

“A new family,” he hummed, pressing kisses to your face and lips, “a new family with my beautiful wife and our beautiful child.” 

He smiled and kissed you again before taking your hand, “Now let me take you home and spoil you rotten while you care for our child, she already holds my heart in her tiny hands.” 

“‘She’?” you asked curiously, and Marcus laughed, a bright smile lighting his eyes. 

“I’m certain Bona Dea will give me a daughter as beautiful and strong as her mother, so that I can live the rest of my life worshipping two incredible women,” he replied, still smiling, “That will be my lot in life, my heart held captive by the two of you.” 

“You are the most wonderful husband and you will make the most wonderful father, Marcus,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes again as Marcus smiled and wiped your cheeks. 

“My sweet wife, carissime,” he said, placing his palm on your belly again, his touch gentle and warm as if he was already cradling his daughter, “I would give up every title the emperors have bestowed on me only to keep two.” 

He kissed your left cheek and then the right, his soft lips brushing gently over your tears. 

“Your husband, and her father.” 

Tagging some lovely people who showered the first four parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0 @lady-bess

[frau-kali]

Black Sails Anniversary Week

Day 4: Favourite Story Arc - Silver accidentally starts caring

"It's a funny thing, the more those men need you, the more you need them. And it drives us to do the most unexpected things."

[justblades]

❝ THE GENERALS' COCKSLEEVE ! ❞

ᝰ. JIYAN x afab! reader x GESHU LIN

๋ᝰ. IN WHICH geshu lin tries to heal your hurt heart as you thought it was a one sided love with jiyan

ᝰ. SMUT, 18+ ONLY. double vaginal penetration, threesome, possessive! geshu lin, WC: 4.2k

a confidential expedition was sought in order to study the occurrences in the battle beneath the crescent. as there was no concrete evidence that recounts the whole of what transpired way back then, it was then decided the magistrate to take precautionary steps to delve deeper into the event.

as soon as the decision has been made, jiyan reaches out for you to talk in private. a secluded room freed from disturbances and lurking ears, a solemn look dances in his golden gaze. "the magistrate ordered for us to study the geographic location when the first retroact rain befell." he states as he shuffles the letter back to the envelope that he received from jinhsi.

a wax seal of ivory color engrained with the sentinel jué's design adorns the surface, jiyan's fingers trail the edges. you purse your lips tightly, reluctance slightly rising from your façade of composure. a tale as old as time, the jinzhou residents knew very well the story of the battle of the crescent.

what dawns in your perturbed mind was the former general behind it, the one deemed as the hero, the savior of all eventually leads the lives of the many to meaningless sacrifices. just the mere stories of those who witnessed general geshu's might would suffice to reinforce the thought on anyone that he was strong, mighty, that those onyx flames of his seared and tore through his countless enemies.

you're just as curious as the person next door. being jiyan's one of the few trusted rangers, you nodded, giving consent to the mission. the two of you will then embark on the journey once the sun rays peek through the bed of stars and the darkness.

it will pass . . . and so, the daybreak arises.

coming vis-à-vis with the general upon the agreed time to meet, the two of you swiftly weave through the vast forest, eliminating any possible tacet discord that might hinder your exploration progress with swift and haste. "we're nearing the norfall barrens now, be careful." jiyan reminds you as he treads forward, the broadblade hoisted at hand to prepare for any case of danger to come.

"yes, general." you reply as you manage to scan your surroundings carefully. as the ground beneath your feet starts to feel different the farther you walked and the olden structures welcome your vision with a faint light, the general looks back at you to confirm his observation. nodding in agreement, a sharp, gelid wind blows within, jiyan's teal locks ripple along the muted breeze.

"the magistrate ordered for us to not stay here for too long, as there's a possibility we might encounter larger waves of tacet discords." he pauses for a short while. "however, if we do not split up and make haste, we might lose the frequencies left behind the battle that might lead to  potential clues. given that we're both resonators, we're capable of diluting the echoes residing within the field."

he stops in his tracks, explaining the pros and cons of the decision to take. naturally, he's gearing towards the advice of jinhsi, as it is true that staying longer in this place will expose the two of you in greater danger. but a part of him doesn't want to split up from you, worrying he'll lose a trustworthy, competent figure in the midst of this expedition.

having known the general for quite some time, you've come to understand patches of his personality as if it were the back of your hand. you'd notice in the slightest change of his facial expressions, even more so in his tone lacing his words. no matter how miniscule the shift is, you'll always be able to know. "fret not, general. i assume you know me well as i know you." you simply state, flashing a small reassuring smile to subside the doubt gnawing at his bones.

jiyan nods slightly in exchange. "understood. i'll contact you via your terminal once i'm finished with exploring the half of the land and you'll do the same with yours. if you come into trouble, just ring me up, i'll come to your aid quickly." you reach for the gourd behind you, double checking if its functions are working in pristine condition.

after enough preparation, the two of you then separated ways with no goal other than to stay alive, rush to the aid of your companion in any hint of trouble and lastly, to pick up clues that draw back to the event. you make your way to the west of the norfall barrens, focusing on your senses to ensure that the exploration would go smoothly.

darkness envelops the whole land, dark embers of faded crimson continually drift from one place to another. among the lingering eerie noises resonating in the field, a distinct voice surfaces - "so it is you."

goosebumps ride on your skin as you prepare into stance and hoist your weapon, eyebrows furrowed as sobriety exudes from your body. when all of a sudden, a towering presence appears behind your back, and as you take a swift turn to face your supposedly opponent and strike them down in a single swing, black and indigo violet flames set the barren lands ablaze, kindling with the littlest movements from the broadblade the person does.

you take a step back, a suffocating heat engulfs everything, the oxygen left in your lungs thinning. struggling to catch your breath, you ball your fists and cough repetitively - the scale of this power is far too destructive.

"still holding out? impressive. no wonder he picked you."

once you finally manage to stabilize your breathing, you enhance your physical body with your forte, bracing impact once the person finally engages with you head on. within a blink of an eye, strands of long, grayish white hair comes to sight, and a pair of honey golden eyes lock gazes with yours.

he closes in with immense speed as the two of you exchange blows left and right. the male grits his teeth as the corner of his lips twitch upwards, "commend yourself for being able to withstand a fraction of my flames."

a gut feeling kicks in, that the danger you were watching out for - was finally settling. you instantly reach for the gourd as an attempt to reach jiyan on the other end, but no avail, the mysterious figure was faster than you. he approaches from above, swinging once more, clashing with your sword as his broadblade defeats yours. he successfully unarms you and manages to immobilize you with makeshift of bindings to keep you still. your back crashes flat on the dry land, a sharp pang of pain striking on your torso.

met with utter loss, he draws closer to you. he reaches his bandaged hand to your face, "could it be . . ." and your consciousness gradually fades away. "general geshu lin?"

rousing from a shortlived slumber, you jolt awake as your eyes peel open, your movements feel minimized. you examine the surroundings, and then yourself - a special restraint encages the both of your wrists together, seemingly one that is made of advanced technology especially catered to confine resonators. you knew from one look that it'd be useless to try and break free and you no longer bothered trying. instead, you opted for any possible methods to escape.

"general jiyan would not be able to come to your aid today, unfortunately." there it was again, the hoarse voice that resounds to your ears like a nightmare fuel. you flinch as you see him within your line of vision once more, confusion washes over yourself, at a loss for words in response to what he said.

"general, why?" was all you could verbalize amidst the worry pulling back your tongue. you bite your lip and could not help but think about jiyan, who put faith in your capabilities only for you to end up like this. "you're asking the wrong question." he says and kneels lower to your level, driving you to a corner as birch walls meet your back.

it was a small cabin from no one knows where that he resided in, necessary supplies and equipment arranged in a chronological manner displayed on the shelves. a dim light illuminated the vicinity, it flickers in opposition to geshu's strong gaze. "i know you have an unrequited love for the general - but you know as much as any midnight ranger that love is not a priority in jiyan's life."

his words struck like sharp lightning aiming to your heart, crushing it whole into smithereens of pain as your world flips upside down. questions come whirring in your mind, such as: why does he know? how does he know? what benefit does this fact bring to him?

unfortunately, his claim was true. being by the general's side for several years, you've seen him be vulnerable, reliable, and resolute regarding whatever trouble may come in his way. his bravery to withstand the lurking unknown sparked your faded flame inside your heart. jiyan became the beacon of light in your muddled world, as the two of you brave through the obstacles with joint forces, in every long night.

the sorrow he faced that you shared with him - it was halved. the joys he witnessed that you shared with him - it was doubled.

"come, be my companion instead. let us eliminate together the darkness at bay." geshu proposes and inches closer to you, his masculine features coming into full view. this time, you could see him better this time, only now noticing details you haven't before. a small mark adorns his face under his left eye and a diagonal scar carves his sultry lips.

he looks at you solemnly, you could feel the proximity between the two of you increase, until he finally presses his lips onto yours gently. shock courses in your veins - the general's tongue makes way inside your mouth, lapping your taste as it twirls with yours, performing a tantalizing rhythm to which mewls were elicited from the drowning pleasure.

you try to retort in opposition to his actions, but your protest was silenced as his right arm snakes its way up to your torso, tearing the fabric of your clothing with little effort. he nestles your nipple within the warm palm of his hand, his calloused fingertips fiddle on the very hard bud.

after making a concoction of your salivas mixed together, geshu breaks the kiss, leaving a trail that connects your lips to his.  "i-i can't abandon general jiyan from a petty reason. i did not uphold my duty all this time just so my feelings were to be reciprocated."

his aureate irises fixate on your features, "and you're loyal too. sorry, but i won't be as gentle as jiyan is to you." geshu crashes his lips on yours once more, this time, a burning carnal desire exudes from his aura, hands now exploring your body, removing the remaining worn out clothing as your tits spring free, nipples erect as glacial winds caress your skin. "so? have you two engaged in such an encounter before?" he manages to query in between heated kisses.

a muffled "no" reverberates and geshu immediately understands. a smirk creeps up to his face and pulls away, an idea slipping into his mind as he now buries his face in the crook of your neck. he asserts dominance as the general flicks his tongue all over the shell of your ear, proceeding to give the whole part slow, sloppy licks, as well as biting on the lobe to determine which you'd like more.

as if you were melting, you felt like putty in his touches as he continues to toy with your breasts. he savors your skin down to the sweet spot on your neck, putting pressure once he sucks on the part, leaving lust filled bruises. taking turns from licking, biting, and sucking, he finally gets his fill as his erection grows bigger and harder to restrain within.

a thought crosses your mind as his bulge brushes on your clothed region, maybe it isn't that bad, accepting general geshu lin's proposal, that is.

geshu shifts positions, he lays on his back as he makes you straddle his pelvis. "cat bit your tongue? i suppose i have to let your body do the talking from here on." heat rushes to your cheeks, embarrassment dawning as you, ironically, grind your lower region against his bulge, creating friction to ease the lust brewing in your lower stomach.

the confinements of the both of your clothing felt impeding to the satisfaction the both of you are chasing. no longer spending time to be rational, you let your emotions guide your next course of action - you strip down his black pants alongside his undergarment, revealing his girthy cock itching for action.

it was adorned by the most prominent blueish veins, it continually twitches, as well as very warm in contrariety to the chilly, tranquil atmosphere encompassing the two of you. you gather spit from the back of your cheeks, redirecting it past your lips, creating leeway for it to trickle down geshu's throbbing dick.

with heavy lidded eyes and blind guess if the accuracy was right, your drool drips down from the head of his cock down to the shaft, cloudy hues gracing it. you slowly wrap your hands around his length, carelessly curling your fingers as you stroke it up and down, starting slowly yet sloppily.

geshu's body tenses from the foreign sensation, his legs trembling and arms jerking. he shuts his eyes, indulging in the feeling as you continue pumping him, granting you low growls of pleasure from the male. meanwhile you remain straddling him, higher levels of libido rushing to your bloodstream as you pick up the pacing. "t-that's it—" geshu verbalizes with a faint voice.

he gets along with your momentum, thrusting his hips upwards in accordance to your rhythm. as he was nearing his release the faster it dragged on, he rises only to flip your frail body around, pinning you down against the floorboards. geshu's chest rises and falls continuously, panting heavily as he feels his release draw back, much to his wish. you've never felt so small and helpless before.

you could pick up every detail of his body language, yet heeded no mind for the embarrassment that was previously gushing in your system. your mind starts to feel dizzy yet carefree, as if like you've drifted far away from reality and only cared about nothing other than satiating your hunger for carnal desire. once geshu's breathing stabilizes, he presses your lips against yours again, relishing every drop of your saliva.

it was becoming messy, but still, the two of you continued like animals in heat. he bites on your lower lip and sucks on the part up to no end, granting him winces of pain mixed with pleasure altogether. a deep chuckle resounds, "quite daring for you to enjoy that."

"no matter, i'll proceed as i please now." he continues and sweeps aside your soaked panties, revealing a heavenly view for him to revel in - white liquids seep out of your slit, a certain pungent scent wafts into his nostrils. "your scent is everywhere." the general states as a matter of fact.

uncertain if that was to be taken in a positive connotation, he wraps his hand around his dick and slaps it against your folds lightly, tapping the very head on your clit. the littlest touches send you spiraling into bliss, a strong yearning growing within. "put it in." you whisper with a weak voice. geshu looks at you, surprised, even more so once you add, "please."

your melting expressions have long been engraved in his mind, as he guides his tip to your slit, the door of his cabin busts open, a strong force sends it flying to the other side of the wall. geshu lin lets out a hoarse laugh, "ah, look who's here!" almost as if he was rejoicing, he repositions the two of your bodies, now holding you up as you sat on his dick.

your sight becomes hazy from all the foreplay ensuing, weakening senses coming back as you saw the familiar hues of teal within your bleary vision. jiyan stands across from your lust-lost bodies, eyes enlarging into two full moons as shock was painted upon his masculine features.

he hoists up his broadblade once more, threatening geshu to let go of your naked body. "general jiyan, if you would not treat such a competent figure like her right, then let me do it in your stead . . . as i am confident that i can treat her better."

rivalry rose from the two males, "that is no way to treat someone." jiyan's words cut through the thick tension sharply, while geshu's brows knit. "you say that, but have you paid attention to the face she's making?" just as he finishes his question, he pushes your body against his cock, thrusting into your cunt with no forewarnings. the intrusion makes a lewd, sloppy noise, accompanied by your moan unintentionally slipping.

a surprising warmth expands through your insides, stretching your velvet walls apart as they mold around the shape of the general's cock. you throw your head back in immense pleasure as he fills you up, mind almost threatening to go blank. "if you want to take her back, prove that she'd want you to reclaim her away from my grasp."

"if not . . . i'm afraid this will be the last time you'll be able to set your eyes on her."

jiyan has always been a rational person, one of the many qualities that renounce him to be truly befitting a title of a general. yet, as he sees you get lost among the sea of pleasure geshu lin has been drowning you in, a sense of ache thrums his heart against his ribcage. with slow steps he took, he's now merely inches apart from you.

geshu continues to hold you up and still, while jiyan leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek first and foremost: a sight that the former general would rather not have seen at all, contributing to his annoyance. while you remained there, incapable of taking action as if you're merely just existing. with little mustered strength, you manage to wrap you arms around jiyan's neck as you loll him into a deep kiss.

a deep kiss capable of delivering human emotions through an intimate action, "general. . ." your voice was faint, yet he understood your intentions. he shuts his eyes and let his emotions take control, immediately fondling your exposed chest as the icy tips of his golden armor fiddle your perked up buds. a moan escapes, followed by even more as the light haired general thrusts in and out of you with great force, the tip of his dick kissing your very womb. "g-general!" you yelp in an attempt to cry for mercy, yet you were only met with more brazenness.

"now you sound like you're yearning for two inside your tight hole." geshu says, frustration lacing his tone as he clicks his tongue afterwards.

jiyan's breathing becomes staggered, letting himself loose as he licks your boobs with his wet tongue, poking its tip on your erect nipples. your body flinches, its sensitivity building up while you remain a moaning mess. even you, yourself lost track of which general you were pleading to for, all you want is to drift afloat into the euphoric seventh heaven, with no other worries in mind but having your thirst quenched.

"will it fit . . ?" he asks as he casts you a look of concern, eyes fixing particularly on your lips that have been stained by three salivas all in all. jiyan unbuckles the dyad belt adorning his waist, letting everything come undone while geshu continues to pump in and out of you, his strong hands grip the plush of your thighs rather tight.

you could hear his mewls from behind, yet your attention was taken by jiyan who's currently stroking himself at the view in front of him. he sheepishly watches you get your cunt pistoned by the former general, his aching erection protruding from the fine fabric of his boxers. " . . . put it in too, general."

the two of them, simultaneously, had their jaws fall agape in shock upon hearing such yearning words come out of your mouth. with a sense of responsibility burning within jiyan, he strips himself naked at this point in time - ready to heed your request. his hands glide all the way down to your inner thighs, his dominant hand's fingers brush back and forth on your dewed folds. he anchors his attention on your pussy alone, at how it flutters every time geshu's cock pounds you in and out.

his patience starts to wear thin, the same could be said for you. with watery eyes and melting expressions, you call for him once more. "please." you mumble, but was eventually silenced as geshu turns you to him and initiates an open mouthed kiss. the teal haired general ached twice as much for more pleasure as he finally spreads your lower lips open, making more space for his dick to go in.

the head of his cock kisses the outermost part of your walls yet you were already squirming. numbness strikes through your legs and quiver, but geshu lin stabilizes them with his one arm hooked on the both of your thighs. he shoots jiyan a frustrated glare, one that seemingly felt that spoke words of "what are you waiting for?"

with slow motions, he finally inserts himself into you, the shaft of his cock comes into contact along with geshu's. jiyan's eyes dared to fall, a titillating feeling wallowing his dick whole. "so tight." he manages to utter in between his hardly stifled, ragged breathing, evident that this feeling was overwhelming.

it was getting overstimulating within each passing minute, with two, fat, big cocks buried inside of you, warming and accompanying your velvet walls as one of them itches to move - geshu's tip crooks inside and rubs on your sweet, textured spot, rewarding the generals your strings of satisfaction. "ah— i'm cumming!"

perhaps it was too late when you said it, but geshu pulls out, giving jiyan a chance to fully savor your slutty hole. "i'll make use of your mouth for now." he flips you around, making you stand on all fours with your ass perked upwards, giving jiyan a full view of your aching cunt.

you shake your hips in desperation, wriggling around just to feel his tip come into contact with your slicked walls again. all the while you coil your digits around geshu's cock, starting off with the head by kitty licks on its little slit. the white haired general loses composure and restraint, hands finding themselves cupping the frame of your face, urging for you to go deeper. as obedient as you became once lust runs in your system, you finally lap all his length up, and at the same time, jiyan rams into you, continuing where he left off earlier.

more sloppy sounds emit from the intercourse as slurping and licking accompanied geshu's dick. sweat begins to trickle all the way down all of your bodies, both the generals' luscious hair becomes disheveled, they ramp their movements by a notch as jiyan performs such impactful thrusts, ramming with his balls deep in and as for geshu, he fills your mouth with his dick alone - both aiming to chase the familiar feeling of release.

jiyan's pacing transitions into a faster one, hands gripping your waist hardly that'll certainly leave a burning sensation on your skin later on. meanwhile geshu lin, he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing the very back of your throat. tears then begin to well up in your eyes, burning your irises as your gag reflex was getting harder and harder to tame.

"swallow it."

"i'll shoot it inside."

the both of them says in unison, and finally, strings of their sticky cum sprawl all over your body's insides: one in your womb and another in your throat. the two generals took some time to let these events sink in their desire filled minds, dicks still not softening any time soon.

jiyan looks at your naked back, the supple skin of yours makes him want to do more; eventually succumbing to the temptation. he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you to a tight embrace, chin rests on your shoulder blade. you heavily pant, the back of your head now laid on the plane of his chest. the two of you then look over to geshu lin, whose facial expressions say that he's in no way satisfied. reading the ambience of the atmosphere, a gut feeling kicks in and tells you that jiyan feels the same.

geshu lin closes in, kissing away the drool escaping past the margins of your soft, sultry lips. jiyan then does the same, softly nibbling on your shoulder, making you elicit a short whimper.

"now, tell us. which one of us do you prefer?"

[yuujispinkhair]

CollegeBoy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up – Part 2 A

-> Option A: "I'm not ready to be a mom"

You can read Part 1 here

I decided to write two different versions of Part 2 (both are comforting). Option A: Reader has an abortion Option B: Reader decides to have the baby(s)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. Light angst with a happy end. 2K words. Unplanned pregnancy, Reader has a surgical abortion. Everything goes well. Sukuna takes good care of Reader. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples + benkeibear

Finding out that you accidentally got knocked up by your college sweetheart was definitely a shock. And it didn't end there because now you are faced with having to make a decision that has the potential to change your life forever.

You sleep a night over it and spend the next day going on a long walk with Sukuna, hoping the fresh air will help you clear your mind. It's when you sit down on a park bench and lean against Sukuna's biceps when you ask softly,

"So what are we going to do, Kuna?"

And Sukuna wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side,

"It's your choice, princess. I will be there for you no matter what. I'm man enough to handle both. And ultimately, it's your body, so you should be the one who makes the decision."

It makes you love him even more.

Sukuna is usually a very dominant person, someone who likes to be in control. Seeing him hold back and give you the reins fills you with deep affection.

You have contemplated both options, glad that Sukuna made it clear that he won't run even if you want to have the baby. But in the end, there is one option that feels more right for you at this point in your life.

When you tell Sukuna that you want to terminate the pregnancy, he doesn't comment on whether this is what he would have decided or not but just pulls you into his strong arms and hugs you, tells you again that he will drive you to the hospital and be there for you all the way.

You practically melt into the comfort of his strong arms as you add softly,

"It's not that I don't want a baby with you, Kuna. You know that, right? It has nothing to do with you. I just think we are too young. I am too young. I don't want the stress of having to be a mom while I still go to college and have to study for exams and try to find a good job, etc. It already seems so much, and when I imagine also having to take care of a little baby, I don't think I can manage all of it, even with you by my side."

Sukuna smiles at you, not one of his smug smirks or flirty boyish grins, but a genuine smile, soft and tender, a smile that is only reserved for you.

"I know, princess. Don't worry your pretty head about this."

Sukuna is with you throughout the whole journey. He drives you to your doctor and insists on going up to the waiting room with you because he knows how nervous you are. He sits next to you, holds your hand, caresses your fingers soothingly, and grins reassuringly at you. He makes a flirty comment and winks at you when your name gets called, trying his best to make you laugh and feel less nervous.

But you know that he is nervous too. When you get back twenty minutes later, you can see that Sukuna is still on the same page of the book he started to read when you left. His mind obviously occupied with other things, just as affected by the situation as you are.

It makes you reach out and hug him tightly, comforting him just like he comforts you, even though he would never admit openly that this makes him anxious just as much as you.

"My doctor already made an appointment at the clinic for me to have another examination and to sign all the documents and stuff. But it's when you have training, so you really don't have to come with me."

But Sukuna rolls his eyes and shakes his head,

"What are you saying? Stop it, baby. Of course, I am coming with you. If I can put my dick in you, I can also accompany you to your appointment. After all, it's my apparently super-fertile sperm that got you into that situation in the first place! I'll skip training. It's not important. Nothing is as important as you are to me."

The next four days feel weird. You go to the examination at the clinic. You listen to the doctor explaining the procedure to you. You nod, you smile politely, and you sign several documents before you get sent halfway through the hospital to meet an anesthetic and sign more papers. They send you home with a sheet full of instructions on what to do before and after the surgery.

You spend the days until the surgery in a daze. Everything feels unreal.

But you aren't alone. Sukuna doesn't leave your side. It's almost funny how he follows you around like a puppy. The big bad boy, all sweet and doting.

On the day of the abortion Sukuna drives you to the hospital. He walks with you to the unit where the surgery will take place, and his large hand squeezes your smaller one so tightly it almost hurts.

You can see and feel how reluctant he is to let go of you and how worried he is about you, even though he tries to hide it and play it cool so as not to make you more anxious than you already are. But his hug is even tighter than usual, almost bone-crushing the way his strong arms tighten around you, and he pulls you against his tall, muscular body.

He kisses you, too deep and with too much tongue for the location, but you tilt your head to let him push his tongue even deeper into your mouth, craving his kiss and his love and the reassurance he gives you that way.

You leave towards the room where you are supposed to change, looking back over your shoulder one last time and Sukuna is still standing there in the hallway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, looking so cool with his tattoos and the pink hair. But you can see the tenseness in his broad shoulders and the worry on his tattooed face.

It makes your chest feel warm, and you can't help but mouth "I love you" in his direction, smiling when you see him say the words too.

Your surgery goes by without any complications, and the moment you wake up, a nurse is already by your side, bringing you tea and something to eat, and some painkillers. But you are impatient, wanting nothing more than to leave and be in Sukuna's comforting embrace, feel the warmth of his body and inhale his scent and hear his velvety low voice murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

You're glad when you are finally allowed to get up and get dressed again, promising the nurse that you have someone who will stay with you for the next 24 hours.

When you leave the changing room, you see Sukuna leaning against the wall right next to the reception. His tattooed face is a bit pale, and he is playing nervously with his tongue piercing once again.

His maroon eyes meet yours, and he is by your side in a second, a strong arm wrapping around your waist and carefully pulling you against his side, steadying you, holding you securely, making sure you won't fall. His lips press against your temple, lingering there for a long moment, warm and soft,

"Fuck. I'm glad you're finally out of there."

You can hear the strain in his low voice, can hear every ounce of worry and anxiety he felt during the last hours when he was sitting in his room, waiting for the hospital to call him and tell him, you are ok.

You lean gratefully against him, feeling a bit dizzy from the anesthetics, glad that you have your strong boyfriend to hold you.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sukuna."

"How are you, princess?"

"I'm good. Just a bit wobbly on my feet. And I need something to eat. I'm starving!"

And Sukuna laughs softly, sounding so relieved,

"Well, how lucky you are that your boyfriend spent the last few hours in the kitchen to distract himself and prepare your favorite dishes for you."

And suddenly, your sight becomes blurry as tears well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks without you even knowing why you suddenly start crying now that it's over when, in the days leading up to the abortion, you didn't shed a single tear!

But maybe all the stress and anxiety of the last few days finally caught up with you. The contradictory emotions of feeling a bit wistful about letting go of that fantasy of Sukuna and you having your own little family versus the relief you feel that it's over and that you can live your life the way you planned.

But you suspect that, most of all, it is the overwhelming love you feel for Sukuna right at that moment. You are so touched by how caring he is. How mature he was in this situation. That he didn't run, that he didn't leave you to deal with all of this on your own. He is so worried about you and does so much to make you feel okay. He is so strong all the time, so you have someone to lean on.

A sniffle escapes your trembling lips, and Sukuna's eyes widen. He pulls you against him, burying his face in your hair and murmuring soothingly to you,

"Hey, baby, it's ok. Everything's going to be ok. Don't cry."

Your hands are on Sukuna's broad chest, and you feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart through the soft hoodie he is wearing, comforting and reassuring.

"I'm ok, Kuna, I swear. It's just... I love you so much."

"I love you too."

His voice sounds tender when he says the words, and you snuggle closer to him, lifting your head to look at his beautiful tattooed face. And Sukuna leans down a bit, enough so he can brush his lips over yours.

That's how you end up standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, hugging your boyfriend and kissing him slowly as if the two of you are the only people in this world.

But you make it to the parking lot a few minutes later, walking there with the help of Sukuna's strong arm wrapped around you.

Sukuna is so gentle, so caring. He helps you into the car and puts on your seat belt for you as if you can't do it yourself. He stops at a convenience store to get some pads for you, jogging back to the car as if he is running from a crime scene because he is worried about letting you out of his sight even for a few minutes.

He helps you out of the car again, once you have reached your apartment, picks you up princess-style and carries you up the stairs. He sits you down on the couch, wraps you in a warm blanket and glares at you when you try to get up.

"Don't be a brat! Just stay right here and rest and let me bring you the meal I cooked for you with all my fucking love!"

He brings you the food and plops down next to you, checking if you really eat something, like some super stern nurse, and you can't help but feel warm, knowing that your bad boy is so amazingly sweet and caring when it comes to you.

The moment your face twists in pain, Sukuna is on his knees in front of you, fear in his maroon eyes, his large hands on your thighs, looking up at you with worry written all over his tattooed face.

"What's wrong?"

You grit your teeth and smile shakily at him, reaching out to cup his cheek and caress it tenderly, touched by how worried he is for you.

"It's nothing bad, Kuna. They told me I would get cramps after the surgery. It's perfectly normal! But it feels like really bad period cramps. They gave me some painkillers for that. Can you..."

You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna is on his feet again, already walking over to your bag,

"I'll get them for you!"

You thank him, and he sits down next to you again, watching you the whole time with narrowed maroon eyes until you chuckle and reach over to ruffle his pink hair,

"I won't drop dead if you stop looking at me for one second, you know, baby? Eat something, too, I know you are hungry!"

"Don't joke about stuff like that, princess. I am just taking my job as your personal nurse seriously."

And he really does. For the next few days, Sukuna barely leaves your side. And even a week later, he is still acting differently around you, and you begin to realize that this is probably how he will always be now. Even more protective. Even more caring.

The unplanned pregnancy and the abortion didn't drive a wedge between the two of you. Instead, it made the two of you grow even closer. You shared a life-altering experience. Because even though you decided not to have the baby, it still will be something you will always carry with you. And you will never forget how Sukuna reacted. How he was there for you. How he respected your decision and how he cared for you.

You learned that Sukuna is more than just the sexy bad boy you can have fun with. He showed you that you can always count on him, that he won't run when real problems occur. You learned that if one day in the future you actually want to have a baby, you have a wonderful man by your side who would be a loving partner and a damn good dad.

You sigh happily as you lie in your bed with Sukuna behind you. He has become more cuddly since accidentally knocking you up. He wants to spend every night at your apartment or asks you to stay at his. As if he needs to hold you every night, keeping you safe and sound, wrapped in his strong arms, his buff body pressing against your back, and his lips trailing lazy kisses over your neck.

The two of you are living your regular lives again, going to classes, studying, going to training, to parties. No one else knows what happened to you. It's a secret between you and Sukuna because you both want it that way. No one else has to know. This is just something the two of you share.

A commercial for baby food starts playing in between two episodes of the crime show you are watching. A young family, mom and dad, and a tiny baby. And even though it's been weeks, it still makes you feel a bit weird to see it.

Sukuna's arm tightens around you. Maybe he felt you tense up, or maybe he had the same thoughts as you when seeing the commercial. Either way, his hand slips down to your belly, caressing it gently, and there's a smile in his low voice when he says,

"You know, it's not the end of it, princess, right? We can still have one.... when we are older. If we want."

You smile and snuggle against Sukuna's warm, muscular body. Your hand lands on top of his larger one, which is resting on your belly now, and you interlace your fingers with his, feeling the weird tension leave your body again.

"If I ever want to have a baby, it will definitely be with you, Sukuna."

I LOVE HIM 💗😭

Thank you so much for all the love on Part 1!! The story wouldn't leave my mind anymore, and after I got several comments and asks where people asked about a possible Part 2, I wanted to continue the story about College sweetheart Sukuna knocking us up and show how Reader and Sukuna deal with both options, so I decided to write two different versions.

I hope you liked Option A and that it could give you comfort.

Option B will be the version where Reader decides to have the baby (or rather babies lol). I plan to post it next week!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

You can find Option B here

[chuluoyi]

first ultrasound with gojo (love entries) headcanons?❤️

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 12:55 P.M 」

*sigh* why am i so weak to domestic requests... this is just a little thing i wrote in one sitting while stalling my nanami fic (and after coming back from the company retreat!) sobs, i'm going back to it i promise!! :')) this loosely takes place after daddy-to-be <3

a part of gojo's love entries

“now let us see…”

you were lying on the examination table as the ultrasound gel made contact with your still flat abdomen. the sheer coldness and the way the probe pressed hard on your skin made you wince a bit, until that discomfort was eased by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn your head towards the source.

your husband, gojo satoru, offered you a smile so warm it made everything else fade into the background. beyond his sunglasses was the way he always fondly looked at you, as if he was silently assuring you that he would be by your side every step of this journey.

you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“ah, here’s the baby,” your doctor gestured at the monochrome screen with a grin. “around five weeks now. it’s the size of a seed.”

a seed? your gaze fixed on the screen with a sense of wonder. honestly you couldn’t really pinpoint where your baby was, until you saw one dot that the doctor zoomed in.

and there it was—the tiny beginning of life. the product of you and your husband’s love, growing steadily inside you.

suddenly it felt so real that you were carrying a new life. your heart overflowed with warmth, swelling with emotion, and you struggled to hold back tears as your gaze shifted between the screen and satoru, who offered you a comforting pat on the head.

“hush,” he whispered softly, seemingly moved too after looking at the living testament of his baby on the screen. “don’t cry now, hmm?”

after seeing the sonogram and had it printed, both of you sat before the doctor as she instructed you to take things easy from now on, and through it all, satoru held your hand firmly in his, attentively listening to everything the doctor mentioned and even proactively asking questions in return.

“doc, she gets dizzy and nauseous easily, can you prescribe her something to make it bearable?”

“i can certainly prescribe some anti-sickness medication, but i highly recommend you to have plenty of rests and eat healthy food too to reduce morning sickness—”

“hmm, and can you recommend anything to improve sleep? she can have trouble sleeping too…”

honestly it touched you to see satoru picked up on these little things about you despite being away so often. only now did you realize that he had always been watching over you, without fail.

back at home, he sat you down on your bed, back to being a carefree clown who would draw laughs out of you.

“now, little mom,” he began, his lips already turning up into a grin as he took your hands in his, kneeling before you. “you need to listen to me very closely, okay?”

you snorted. “don't address me like that!”

“uh-oh, no squirming,” satoru warned playfully, pinching your cheeks, and you swatted his hand, holding back giggles.

oh my. just what a blissfully happy couple you were.

“first thing first, now you are to have lots of breaks and rest,” he declared, amusement melted a bit from his tone. “the doctor said so. it'll help with your nausea too. if you feel the slightest bit unwell, you have to go back and rest.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, yeah...”

“and no staying up late too,” he added, fixing his clear eyes on yours. “especially not for waiting for me to be home.”

that got you to clamp up. so he noticed it too, the way you would always wait for him, even at the cost of not sleeping at all. satoru never really said anything all this time, but now you knew, he was indeed worried.

once again, your chest burst with love and warmth. but still...

“can you promise me that?” satoru asked you gently, his smile still in place, but you knew the underlying command behind those words. “i'm coming back. always. i have everything i want here, with you. there's no way i'm not coming back.”

you hung onto his every word, and much like spellbound, you let go of everything and nodded.

“and now baby...”

he then shifted his focus to your tummy, gently brushing his fingers across it, and the gesture stirred something inside you, making you throb with emotion.

“you only have one job. grow big and healthy, and you can even bother mama sometimes! just don't make her too sick or i'll worry...”

somehow your vision blurred with tears, hearing how unusually earnest he was. “satoru, you're so silly.”

but as always, he would pick this moment to flip the switch, reverting back to his usual teasing.

“hmm, what's that? you're getting soft now, aren't you, mommy~?”

“...why do you have to sound like that? you're making it lewd on purpose!”

in this little world of love of yours, it was just you and him, along with the tales of your life together. you had weathered various moments side by side, and now, as you were embarking on another significant chapter with him, you were certain that everything would be alright.

satoru pulled you to the bed and smothered your head with kisses, trapping you between his strong arms. “hmm, comfy now?”

“mmm, yeah. keep cuddling me...”

and from his side, he was sure, that right now, everything had never been and felt so right than ever before—with the love of his life and future in his arms.

[cr4yolaas]

second best — iwaizumi hajime

part 2 here !

notes: based off of second best by laufey <3 hope u enjoy!

tags: fluff → angst, timeskip, insecurity / jealousy (reader), losing feelings (iwaizumi), swearing, best friend oikawa, arguments / yelling, iwaizumi is mean and delusional

it was a tuesday. school had ended a handful of hours ago, and you had no homework. the sun was setting quicker than it regularly did, coating your bedroom in a warm gold and casting rays of light upon your shoulders. hajime sat beside you, his laptop propped up on your table.

he bit his nails frantically (a habit you had always scolded him for) and repeatedly reloaded the page. “why won’t it just load…” he groaned, his brows furrowed and a scowl embedded on his lips. albeit his angered expression, he was more frightened than anything. that you knew.

“be patient, haji. you’re gonna break the keys,” you quipped, despite being just as anxious as him.

a new screen appeared with the eighty ninth refresh. in bold letters, congratulations! splayed itself onto hajime’s laptop, followed by an unnecessarily long message detailing his next steps. before you could react, the boy had thrown himself onto you, his arms tightening around your frame as he sobbed uncontrollably. his joy radiated.

“you- you did it!” you exclaimed, returning his hug. you nearly laughed at his face — tear-soaked, distraught, a far cry from the stoicism he wore. “i’m so proud of you, haji.”

he stumbled over his words as he struggled to regain his composure. the amalgamation of emotion was evident on his features; glee engraved itself on his cheeks, shock poured out of his eyes, excitement spilled from the cracks between his teeth. not once did he let go of you, as if fearful that he would face a different reality if he did so. “i know i’m going to be super far away, but- but promise me you’ll wait for me. please.” hajime held both of your hands in his. “i’ll make you proud, and then i’ll come back. okay?”

you beamed at him. “okay. i promise.”

hajime’s head rested on your shoulder, his grip on his store-bought onigiri loose — a tell-tale sign of his exhaustion.

the large LED clock on the wall read 5 am. he had stressed that he get to the airport as early as possible, seemingly prepared for the journey, and yet, here he lay, slumped against a plastic chair.

you took the food out of his hand and packed it into his carry-on, careful not to disturb his rest. he arose regardless. “shit,” he mumbled, clearly riddled with sleep. “what time is it?”

“you still have two hours until your flight, hajime,” you laughed. “relax. i wouldn’t let you be late.”

he muttered a lighthearted insult that didn’t quite make sense and leaned against you once more. a warm silence washed over you both before he spoke again. “i’m scared,” he whispered.

you didn’t look at him, in fear that you would get too emotional. instead, you fidgeted with his hand, your thumb ghosting over his calloused skin. “scared of what?”

“everything.”

“you know that’s not an answer, dumbass.”

he sighed. “i’m going to be leaving you all alone. not just you, but everyone i know. everything i know. and, who knows — what if things don’t go as planned?”

you hummed softly before responding, “that’s how growth is, haji. if you stay here, it’s unlikely that you’ll reach anything new. but if you go there — the college you’ve been dreaming about for ages — you’ll find new heights to reach. and i’ll be here for all of it. well, not physically, but you understand.”

hajime began to tremble against you. muffled cries escaped his lips, his grip on your hand tightening as the announcement for him to depart rung over the speakers. “i’m sorry, my love. i’ll come back for you, pinky promise.”

you finally looked at him — a mistake on your part. his anguish made your heart ache, and you began to mirror him almost instantly.

you helped him stand up and carry his bags to the line before placing a delicate kiss to his lips. “be safe, ha-“

hajime pulled you towards him and pressed his lips to yours, however, with far more desperation. the thud of his bag against the floor seemed to echo as his hands gripped your sides. he pulled away, his face comically tearful, before muttering an “i love you” against your forehead.

you waved him off as he boarded the plane, your heart sinking to the depths of your lungs, restricting your ability to breathe as you started to sob into your arms.

“so, this is my dorm…” a deep voice rung out from your phone. “all of my roommates are out right now, so i have the whole place to myself. anyways, look- i brought some of our polaroids and hung them above my desk.” hajime flipped his camera and slowly panned it across his wall, demonstrating various photographs hanging from a shelf.

“it’s super cute, haji. what else is there?”

he continued to show you around the living area and the kitchen, his excitement evident despite your inability to actually see his face.

while it was the midst of a bright afternoon where he was, sleep was creeping up on you, as you had stayed up late into the night to wait for this call. it had been several months since he had officially begun classes at UCI, but adjusting was reasonably difficult, giving him no time to sufficiently update you. but now, he had carved a little space into his schedule to “spend time with you” (as he called it).

“oh, by the way — i ran into ushijima wakatoshi here, y’know, the really tall one from shiratorizawa. it was pretty interesting. i didn’t really expect to see him there.” he continued to ramble on while you listened as intently as you could with your phone propped up on your table. your eyes were growing heavier, the words fading in and out. hajime’s exclamation roused you from your near slumber. “wait, it’s super late there right now, isn’t it? i’m so sorry, baby, i completely forgot. you’re probably really tired. umm, i’m not sure if i have time to call you tomorrow, but i’ll try my best.”

you mumbled softly, “it’s alright, i think i’m busy tomorrow anyways. i’ll see you soon.”

hajime smiled. “yes, i’ll see you soon.”

over the next couple of months, hajime had made time to keep in contact with you — between classes, during his part-time job, as he ate dinner — he was always sure to integrate you into his schedule.

you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little anxious.

oikawa laid across your bedroom floor, his glare etching holes into the ceiling. “he’s head-over-heels for you. i’m being serious! he has absolutely no reason to cheat, or anything of the sort. and if he did, i’d beat him up, obviously.” he spoke dramatically, as if what he was stating was common sense. and yet, you still found yourself worrisome.

“i guess, but- i’m sure it’s exhausting for him. he already works hard enough, so i can’t imagine how it is trying to balance his life over there with our relationship.” the brunette groaned at your fretting and launched himself up, his face now pointed towards yours.

his brows were tightly knit as he ranted, “if you were him, you would do anything you could to keep the relationship alive, wouldn’t you? because you’re so painstakingly, heartbreakingly, devastatingly in love with him, right? well, i’m telling you that’s what he’s doing right now! get your head on straight. you two were like, meant to be! so enough of your yapping!” despite his feigned anger, oikawa couldn’t wrap his head around your insecurities. did you not see how smitten hajime was? how, when your name was so much as mentioned in conversation, he became the liveliest person in the room, akin to a child talking about their favorite show? none of that changed, regardless of the distance. he wished you realized that.

you frowned. “sorry, i just- ugh.” you groaned into your palms, exasperated with your own worries. “it’s so stupid. i feel so stupid.”

your friend’s demeanor switched, and instead of aggressively reassuring you, he rubbed a gentle hand over your back. “he’s so, so, so in love with you. i promise.”

a month after that interaction, oikawa asked you to hang out with him — supposedly, the plan was to watch a movie since “no one else wanted to watch it with him,” and eat right after. however, this was not the road to the theater.

“tell me where we’re going, or i’m going to call the police on you for kidnapping me,” you half-joked.

“no!! it’s a surprise — and if i were really kidnapping you, would i let you keep your phone?”

feeding into your concerns, oikawa pulled into the airport parking lot, his movement growing increasingly frantic. “hurry!” he shouted at you while pulling you through the crowd.

at last, he stopped before a gate, the bold arrivals sign hanging above you both. “just wait,” he spoke, his eagerness clear.

as if on cue, a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you both, rendering you short-breathed. “haji?” you spoke on instinct.

“i- i’m home. i’m home, guys.” he beamed up at both of you with a smile that you had longed to see for what felt like centuries. oikawa was cast to the side as hajime threw himself onto you, seemingly unaware of the click of his friend’s camera from just a few feet away. “i missed you so much, baby, you don’t understand.” he peppered kisses across your face, painting you with a longing so heavy it weighed your whole body down.

“i missed you too, haji.”

oikawa drove you both to your apartment before leaving a gift for hajime and a smile for you. the moon sung into the wind and left you shivering, resulting in your boyfriend ushering you into the house.

“i didn’t prepare anything, i’m sorry,” you ranted. “oikawa didn’t tell me — he told me we were going to the movies. what a liar. i was kind of excited for it too.”

hajime laughed before walking around your home. he seemed to inspect every corner with a heart full of love and a face drenched with yearning, his dried fingertips ghosting over the furniture. “it’s so cozy in here. when did you move in?”

you hummed while looking into the pantry. “after my first year, they allowed me to live off campus. it’s really convenient. i’d say it’s like, a five minute walk to the station?” as you rambled, hajime wrapped his arms around you once more. “hey, i’m making you dinner. you didn’t eat yet, right?” he shook his head against your neck.

“i really, really, missed you,” he whispered against your skin before pulling away. “what are you making?”

you smiled up at him, a sight he had been waiting to see in person. “your favorite, of course.”

hajime told you he’d be over for the next month, as he was on spring break. the first week was spent celebrating with his friends and family — to begin, a party with his former team spent at a local restaurant.

“so,” oikawa begun, his face dusted pink as he held a bottle in his hand. “what have you been up to while you left us, iwa-chan?” the nickname made the man grimace, the memories it carried making him cringe. nonetheless, he continued.

“well, i’ve been training under this one trainer i’ve always looked up to. he’s taught me quite a bit, and i’m learning a lot every day. he works with the university’s varsity team, which is super awesome, and he used to play here in japan,” hajime ranted. “and i even met ushiwaka — super crazy, i know. it was like he was following me. oh, and- i’ve also met a few people there from my classes there that are super cool. look.” he pulled out his phone and showed a picture to the table, featuring him amongst a small group of friends. within them, one stood out the most. matsukawa was the first to call it out.

“holy shit, who’s that? the one on the right? she’s so pretty,” he spoke with slurred words, his face burning up with alcohol. the rest of the table leaned in to get a good view, murmurs of agreement ringing about. hajime looked beside him to see you stagnant, a slight furrow to your brow and an uncomfortable expression etched onto your face. he thumbed your hand under the table as if to provide you with solace.

“she’s in the same major as me, and she also came from japan. we met during class, and she introduced me to her friend group. it’s pretty cool, though — supposedly, she’s an understudy for an international team’s trainer,” he explained, noises of awe washing over the group. your face only grew more bitter.

you knew it was foolish to be jealous over something so minuscule. he was allowed to have friends — you weren’t so selfish as to rob him of that. but knowing that he was in the presence of someone so much greater than you made your head ache more than you had hoped. seeing him praise her so openly was akin to him piercing your ribcage. it was childish. you dared not to express such feelings to him.

when you got home, hajime splayed himself onto your bed without changing, his hand subconsciously gripping onto the hem of your sleeve as he drifted into sleep. you did not close your eyes as swiftly.

instead, you sat up, tracing the features on your boyfriend’s face and observing each intricacy. you did not want to lose this — to lose him. to think of such a thing frightened you; to experience it would be far worse. but would you blame him, if he chose the lustrous world across the sea over the dull life you presented to him?

you decided that you wouldn’t, for you knew the answer deep down.

“hajime,” you began. you poked at your food apprehensively. “you’re leaving next week, right?”

he swallowed a large bite before responding, “mm, yeah, possibly.”

“possibly?”

“well- you know the girl from my group at college? the one i showed you all at the dinner table. she’s been offered to attend an actual game with the coach that’s training her and asked if i wanted to come along. i think it’s a super great opportunity,” he explained with a careless tone about him. contrary to that, you were coated with dread.

your movements halted altogether. “…yes, that’s a wonderful opportunity hajime! it’s just-“ you stumbled over your speech, fearful of saying the wrong thing. you promised yourself not to be childish, and yet, you longed to be selfish just a little longer. “can you really not stay any longer?”

hajime sighed, and your chest ached with guilt. “i could, but- you know this is a chance that doesn’t come by very often, if at all. this could be the step that brings me to where i need to be.”

you picked at the skin of your fingers under the table. he was right. you knew he was. but it hurt to witness it; to witness him willingly choose another thing over you.

your greed got the best of you. “haji, you told me to wait for you. i waited for so, so long. but it feels like- it just feels like all that waiting was for nothing. it feels like you’re slipping out of my fingers already.” he groaned softly, just barely enough for you to hear, and ran a hear through his hair. “i’m sorry, i know it’s selfish, but can’t you just- why not stay a little longer? please?”

he carried his dishes to the sink, a heavy air hanging around him. “if you know it’s selfish, why do you keep pushing for it? you know this is something beyond important to me. i worked so hard to get here, to get so close to my dream. i don’t understand why i should turn down something that could very well be the turning point.”

you followed suit, desperate to mend the conversation you started. he was growing irritated, and it terrified you. you wished not to say anything too abrasive, but he seemingly did not have that restraint. “i’m not telling you to turn it down, haji. i just want to spend a little more time with you before i can’t have you for another- i don’t know, another year? maybe more? i- i’m sorry, i just-“

“stop. just- stop. i know you’re upset, but i need you to understand that i’d be even more upset if i missed this opportunity. why don’t you get it?”

“i do get it, i promise, but-“

“then act like it! because to me, it just seems like you don’t want me to go at all! if it were any other person than her who invited me, you wouldn’t have said anything! but because you’re so goddamned selfish, you keep fighting to keep me here, even though you’re the one who told me going overseas was the best thing i could do for myself! you- fuck! you told me this was how i’d reach new heights. and i’m showing you that i’m getting there, and i’m trying so hard to become someone you can be proud of, that everyone can be proud of, and it just feels like you’re shutting all of that down!” white-hot tears were flowing from his eyes as he yelled, his consciousness not picking up on your protective stance and your own tear-drenched cheeks and the apologies spilling from your lips. “fuck- i’m gonna pack my shit now. i’m sorry i yelled, but i’m leaving tomorrow. goodnight.”

you could not process him leaving for the bedroom door behind you, and you could not process the shutting of the door and the shuffling of his belongings. all you could do was fall to the floor and curl in on yourself, ashamed for creating the commotion you swore not to stir.

when you awoke the next morning, the other side of the bed was cold and folded neatly. the house was empty.

you stumbled out into the kitchen, looking around for any remnant of hajime — a note, a picture, a gift, anything, only to turn up empty-handed and instead bearing a pained heart. “haji?” you mumbled into the air with a watery voice. “haji, where are you?”

your body knew of his whereabouts before your mind did, causing you to kneel to the ground and sob. your whimpers were reminiscent of a dog crying for its owner, or a child whining for its parent.

he had left without so much as a goodbye. perhaps if you had been less demanding, less adamant that he stay just a little bit longer with you, he would have kissed you at his departure or left you something to remember him with. but the house was empty, just as it was before he arrived.

on the morning of his departure, long before the sun had crawled up onto the horizon, hajime went to oikawa’s place. he knocked on the door thrice before a disheveled man let him in. hajime apologized for his intrusion.

“why do you have your bags? why are you leaving so soon?” oikawa interrogated his friend before he could speak.

the other man scratched the back of his neck. “well, uh, i’m leaving early. that girl from my college, she offered to bring me with her to a training experience with her coach. i really wanna go.”

“what?” oikawa exclaimed dramatically, his eyes bulging out of his head. “did you- did you even explain this to them? what did they say?”

“i think i worded it wrong… they didn’t take very, uh, kindly to it, i guess. well- no, wait, they did, but i think i responded wrong. i just- i don’t know.”

the brunette scoffed before pacing around the living room with a burst of energy. “god, reasonably so! if i were them, hearing that you were ditching me for the person you haven’t stopped talking about this whole damn visit, i’d be furious! are you- are you insane?”

hajime shot up from his seat defensively. he looked at his friend with exasperation. “look, do you realize how important this is to me? why wouldn’t i go?” in response, oikawa stopped in his pacing. he rubbed his forehead in irritation, his gaze fixated to the floor.

“iwaizumi,” he spoke sternly. the formal tone brought the man to a halt. “you have to be honest with yourself. you haven’t seen your lover in like, forever, and you’re leaving them behind once again for a girl who just so happens to have connections-“

“connections that could get me places!”

“shut up! let me finish!” oikawa slammed his hands onto the table. “you have been lying to them this whole trip. they have been so kind as to wait for you, no matter how long it’d take. they stayed up night after night to call you and make sure you were doing well, to make sure you had eaten, to make sure you were still there. but you come here, and to me, it seems that all you want is what’s over there. i know these goals are important to you, and that you want to achieve them more anything. but have you never considered that maybe, just maybe, your own partner has been longing for you just as much?”

hajime could only scoff, so blinded by his aspirations that he could not bear to absorb oikawa’s words. “it’s selfish.”

“then maybe you should just leave. it’d be far more heartbreaking for them to stick with someone who can’t even appreciate them to an equal degree.”

weeks after his disappearance, hajime had yet to speak to you. he no longer called nor texted. evidently, you were an obstacle to his desires.

however, after a drunk night spent with oikawa, you received a text from his contact — one you couldn’t bear to delete.

can we call?

you scrambled up from the couch, oikawa jolting at your action. “what? what is it?” he peered over at the message, and in an instant, dread displayed itself onto his face. “are you gonna answer?”

you knew it’d be stupid to do so — he had left you without a word for dreams that were greater than you, and left you to pick up the pieces of a relationship that had consumed your very being for so long. but it was undeniably tempting.

after long deliberation, you nodded and opened the notification. oikawa watched anxiously.

“hello? this is, um- is this-”

“yes. it’s me,” you answered shakily. silently, you put the call on speaker.

“oh, great! i mean, uh- okay, hold on.” you could hear him breathe in before speaking again. “i know it was horribly wrong of me to leave without any contact. i just wanted to apologize for that, for everything. for not giving you what you deserved and needed at the time. i just- can we just talk for a bit?”

you slumped back onto the couch and oikawa followed after you. you weren’t in the right state of mind — the copious amount of alcohol you drank clouded your functionality, and yet, you knew that this chance wouldn’t ever come by again — it was foolish. “of course,” you responded. “how have you been?”

you both listened half-intently as he rambled on about his current life — how he was now working with a new coach, how he was getting closer to graduating, how he was planning on going to the japan national team as soon as he got the chance. he failed to leave out the mention of his girlfriend — his new girlfriend — thus exposing him and leaving you distraught.

stupidly, you were not angry. he seemed so excited; he was building a life that seemed to be getting better every day. who were you to oppose that? oikawa shook his head disapprovingly at your lack of response.

“anyways, um, how are you?” hajime asked. he sounded so youthful — it hurt far more than it should have.

you struggled to swallow your tears as you spoke. “i- i’m doing okay. i just, uh, got a new job, ‘nd i- sorry, i’m-“

his concern hurt more than anything. “are you alright? is everything okay?”

“i’m sorry, it’s- it’s really late here right now, and i’m exhausted. can we, um- can we speak another time?” you sniffled through your words, desperately hanging onto the last bits of a conversation you knew you were not strong enough to withstand.

“oh, okay, sure. sorry to bother you so late in the night. and, um, i… i’m sorry. for everything. really, i am. uh, sleep well.” he hung up before you could say anything more, leaving you to sob in oikawa’s arms as he unleashed a handful of tears himself, as if sharing your anguish.

to you, iwaizumi hajime was everything. to him, you were too far behind to keep up — you were his second best.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected. 

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first. 

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -” 

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?” 

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -” 

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?” 

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” 

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?” 

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?” 

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.” 

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.” 

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen. 

“Another round, brother?” 

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.” 

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.” 

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket. 

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?” 

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.” 

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.  

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly. 

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.” 

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.” 

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes. 

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her mother than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went. 

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap. 

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?” 

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.” 

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray. 

“Any time.” 

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them. 

“I look crazy, huh?” 

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.” 

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?” 

“Don’t start, TJ.” 

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?” 

“What? TJ? That’s your name.” 

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.” 

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.” 

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.” 

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction. 

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far. 

“Treece, I can do it.” 

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?” 

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.” 

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?” 

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.” 

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?” 

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend. 

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.” 

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.” 

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.” 

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.” 

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.” 

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly. 

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression. 

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.” 

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?” 

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?” 

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further. 

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.” 

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.” 

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway. 

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off. 

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony. 

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together. 

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance. 

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs. 

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks. 

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.” 

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.” 

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?” 

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.” 

“TJ for you.” 

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them. 

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?” 

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted. 

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.” 

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?” 

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.” 

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.” 

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line. 

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him. 

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.” 

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone. 

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard. 

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.” 

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.” 

“I fucked that up.” 

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.” 

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter. 

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused. 

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow. 

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.” 

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.” 

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.” 

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters. 

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I’ll take it.” 

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

[magicbystarlight]

A Lady and Her Knight

Gwayne Hightower x Velyaron! (Vaemond’s daughter) Reader

Summary: You tease a knight and he falls ridiculously in love with you for it.

Word Count: 6.3k (I had to stop myself)

Warnings: 18+, Brief misogyny and xenophobia (not from Gwayne), injuries, verbal & physical teasing, milk comes out your nose, fluuufff, Gwayne is a romantic, oral sex (fem! receiving), grinding, Gwayne makes a mess. Minors DNI.

A/N: This is self indulgent, I make no apologies

“All this,” you muttered, eyeing the servants as they continued to scurry about in preparation for the various nobles who’d be arriving within the following days, “for a boy that may not even exist.”

Your aunt, Princess Rheanys, sighed beside you. “As is the way of the world.”

You could still remember her standing between your Uncle Corlys and the old King Jahearyes, Visyers and his then pregnant wife Aemma opposite them. The Queen Who Never Was. Your father’s confidence she’d be made queen and that his brother would pass High Tide to him. Your father’s sudden switch in loyalties when the council had named Viserys instead. “A woman can never rule.” What a statement to make to a daughter.

“At least,” she said, taking your arm to continue strolling through the bustling courtyard, “this shall offer you a chance to be amongst more than sailors and children.”

You mirrored her teasing smile. “The children I do not so much mind. Perhaps I shall take them to see the knights practice in the training yard.”

She said you name warmly, a fondness built through years of companionship during her husband’s frequent voyages and trips to King’s Landing, “perhaps instead you will find company with those more suited for your age while you are here.”

Nose scrunched, you asked, “Are you trying to rid yourself of me? Or is Laena?” It was all in jest, but you wouldn’t doubt your young cousin would like a less astute guardian during her time here. It wouldn’t surprise you if there wasn’t at least one attempt to sneak off to the dragon pit. “No, it must be Laenor. I have embarrassed him too oft on our journey with my superior knots.” He’d need to improve them soon. Not only for the sake of his future as Lord of the Tides, but if he ever hoped to be a dragon rider like his mother. Rope secured the saddles better than anything else.

“I assure you, sweet niece, no one is displeased with you. It is only my wish that you enjoy this trip as much as everyone else.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you assented. “I suppose I shall try, if only to please you, Princess.”

—

The wish went unfulfilled. Instead, you found yourself hidden behind closed doors serving as cupbearer to the Small Council in place of the younger princess. The Realm’s Delight, it was reasoned, should be the face that greeted the lords and their kin in the absence of the king or his queen. That the Hand’s daughter stood at her side was only right. And, you who so oft served as cupbearer within High Tide, were a perfect replacement for the time being.

It was not the sort of gossip you’d hoped to partake in, but still you listened intently as you filled cups again and again with their preferred Dornish Red. Your uncle hardly touched his now as he gave another plea for them to take his warning of the Crab Feeder seriously. But once again, it was brushed off by the Hand with the empty promise that it was taken under advisement. Talk turned quickly into that of the tourny. You had to turn your back so they could not see the roll of your eyes. Back and forth, the king argued his child was a boy who’d be born at some time during the week despite the insistence of part of his council that it wasn’t certain.

When you turned back, you caught Corlys’s frustrated eye. The Triarchy had already made trouble for ships that ported in Driftmark. Were it to continue there would be financial burden on the realm. One your house would feel first. And the king and his council did not much care. Your head bowed ever so slightly in acknowledgement of his ire before his attention returned to the discussion at hand. You made to do the same, but the heavy gaze of the Hand himself had you quickly averting your own to the floor. It stayed there for the remaining minutes as the inane chatter dissolved and the men rose to depart.

You were quick to your uncle’s side. He’d want to speak with his wife and air his grievances in a more hospitable setting. You’d take the children to the gardens or perhaps the training yard as you’d first planned.

“Lord Corlys,” Otto Hightower called, pausing your escape. He strode down the table, coming to stand on his other side. “I wish to assuage your worries that you have gone unheard today. You have not. Once the tourney has passed and the heir is in the king’s hand, there shall be a much more comprehensive discussion with the Council of what shall be done with this crab feeder.”

The stiff posture your uncles had held eased. “That is good to hear.”

Otto hummed. “And I would like to invite you, Princess Rhaenys, and,” his attention fell on you, “your niece to dine with me this evening.”

An eyebrow rose on your uncle’s face.

“My nephew arrived with my son from Old Town this morning. As he is the future Lord of Old Town, I think it would be very wise for him to build a relationship with Driftmark and learn from your many successes.”

Flattery was always your uncle’s vice. As was the opportunity to talk of his great adventures. He bowed his head. “We’d be honored.”

—

You weren’t nearly drunk enough. But your aunt had ceased the flow of wine and had whispered to a servant to have it replaced with a nut milk after you’d downed your second glass. Perhaps it was for the best. A loose tongue would surely injure the idiot beside you.

On and on Lord Ormund went, talking about nothing save for his own life. The gardens in Old Town he’d one day inherit, the two links he’d earned at the Citadel, how well trained he was with a sword, how he’d received three offers of marriage from lords of lesser houses for their daughters, and how thrice he’d denied them.

“Lovely girls, I am sure, but too commonly pretty. I myself want a wife of more exotic beauty.”

“Perhaps you should speak with my uncle then,” you said, shoving your fork so forcefully into a slice of potato it broke apart, “he could help you prepare for your journey across the Narrow Sea. He knows many of the nobility within Volantis and Braavos as well. He may know of a match suitable for a future Lord.”

He laughed. “No, no. I am not a man built for sea travel. Nor would I wish for a wife of a foreign mind. Too many queer customs.”

You held in a rather rude retort. “An exotic beauty without a foreign mind? I believe you may find a mermaid with more ease.”

“You are a modest creature.”

You choked on your milk trying to stifle a laugh followed by the awful feeling of it snorting out of your nose. You’d been flirted with before, but never so poorly. As he showed concern and your aunt and a servant mopped up your mess with napkins, Otto’s eldest son drawled, “Careful, cousin. You’ll kill the poor girl with your charm.”

A coughing fit covered another repressed laugh. Your aunt’s hand patted your back. Once you’d caught your breath and cleared the water from your eyes with a handkerchief pulled from the bust of your dress, you met Gwayne’s sea-blue ones. They crinkled in a way that had you thinking there was a smile hidden behind his own goblet. The cloth in your hand pressed against your mouth to try to stop yet another bout of laughter and you had to train your gaze on the table to keep any composure. Gods, this dinner could be the death of you.

“Are you feeling ill, my lady?” Ormund questioned.

“I am afraid I am,” you said, still hiding your mouth behind the cloth. “I had hoped it would pass as I was very much looking forward to this lovely dinner, but I fear it has crippled me beyond politeness. My apologies, but I think it best I retire for the evening and rest.”

“But of course,” Otto said. The Hand of the King saw through your act. You realized it as he offered his nephew to walk you to your chambers. When you rejected the idea, trying to implore the table you were fine to go alone, Otto merely said with a smile, “It is a long walk. It would ease my mind to know you were escorted there safely, especially given your delicate health at the present.”

Your eyes flicked from your aunt’s to your uncle’s looking for support. You had no desire to deal with Ormund alone. But they merely agreed. Your aunt’s arched brow hinted that it was a consequence of your own actions.

“Ormund should stay.” Gwayne was already standing as he spoke. “It’s a rare thing to get to speak with a Lord such as Lord Coryls. As I am not set to inherit a Lordship like you cousin, I shall ensure the lady is returned safely. I wish to visit the stables anyways.” He was a man of confidence, striding to the door and pausing at it to offer his arm. “My lady?”

You nearly knocked over your chair standing. A rushed farewell is all you offered the rest of the table before meeting Gwayne at the door and taking his arm. “This is where you say thank you,” he said when you reached the bottom of the stairs, far far away from the ears of your respective families.

“Thank you?”

He smirked. “For aiding you in your distress.”

“I was not in distress.”

A snort.

“I wasn’t! I was mildly inconvenienced at best.”

“Perhaps when I return this evening, I shall tell my dear cousin how fondly you spoke of him. How struck you were by him that you nearly swooned speaking of his handsome features.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, retracting your arm from his. “You would not dare.”

He grinned. A grin so charming, it could convince a saint to sin. A grin you had a strong urge to smack. “Is that a risk you’re willing to take over a few words of gratitude?”

You stared at him for a long while. His grin never wavered. The fool thought he had won. You cocked your head and, with a voice so sweet you could taste it, said, “You are right, Ser Gwayne. Thank you for your daring rescue. Though I fear a simple ‘thank you’ is not nearly enough.” His grin shrank as you stepped closer to him. “Perhaps a kiss for such chilvary?” Your hand rose to his chin.

His throat bobbed as you stroked his jaw. “My lady,” he tried to say, hand rising to halt yours.

“No, I suppose a kiss would not be appropriate.” You took another step forward, chest pressing against him. “My maidenhead is much more proportionate to such an act of bravery.” You grinned then.

His smile had fallen away. “You mock me?”

“You started it,” you shrugged. You tried to step back, but his grip tightened on your wrist to hold you in place.

A breath left him. He stared down at you, a look of shock that melted to one of amusement. Breath warm on your cheek, Gwayne leaned in and whispered, "A dangerous game to play. A lesser man would take your teasing as an invitation.”

You tilted your head up, nose brushing his, and mockingly cooed, "My savior.”

He snorted and released his grip, fingers dragging along your palm before his touch vanished. He shook his head and took a step away, putting distance between the two of you. It did little to help the tension. “We should get you to your rooms before dinner ends less you wish to tell Ormund the truth of your spilled milk.”

—

“It’s not fair,” Leanor whined as he tugged at the rope that bound his wrists. “How am I supposed to untie something without any hands?”

Leana giggled, her own ropes dangling from her wrists. “It’s easy!”

Leanor frowned.

“It’s not easy,” you corrected, plucking his knot until it came loose. The godswood was empty besides your trio. “It takes skill and practice to be able to do. It took me years to do it.”

“But why do I have to?”

You sighed. “Because, you,” you poked his nose, “are a valuable captive to have. And if you ever are in such a position, I want you to be able to get out of it.”

Leanor pouted, but didn’t argue more. He rubbed his freed wrists and watched as you tied Leana. It didn’t take long before he was bored, complaining he wanted to go to the training yards to see the knights practice. Leana soon followed.

You were on the verge of caving to their pleas when another trio entered the godswood. Rhaynera, Alicent, and Gwayne.

“Are you holding these children hostage?” Gwayne called.

“Yes!” the children yelled back. The ladies were giggling as they came upon you, Alicent holding a large book to her chest.

You rolled your eyes. “Tis a pleasure to see you again, Ser Gwayne. Though I fear it is poor timing as we are about to depart to the training yard.”

“We are?” Leana asked excitedly

“What fortunate timing,” Rhaynera disagreed, sharing a smirk with his sister, “as that is where Ser Gwayne is headed.”

Leanor looked at him with round, awed filled eyes. “To train for the tournament?”

“Indeed,” he said, kneeling to pull the knot on the boy’s wrists. It came undone easily. “Do you intend to become a knight one day?”

The boy nodded eagerly.

Gwayne looked to Leana, offering her the same aid. Her eyes were not quite as wide with awe. She freed herself with her teeth.

Gwayne chuckled. “I see you take after your cousin.” He stood and extended his hand towards you. You looked from it to his face. A teasing smile and a spark of challenge in his eyes. You could have sworn his lips curled wider when your fingers grasped his palm.

“Careful, Ser. Such high praise will inflate my ego nearly as much as your own. I’m not sure there’s enough space in all King’s Landing for that.”

—

Gwayne was a very pretty man. Clean, well groomed, and handsomely dressed, he was the sort songs would be written about. But after hours in the training yard, dirt clinging to his sweat drenched skin and hair askew? You were not sure there was a word for it, but whatever it was made you ache in ways unfit of a lady. The children had been sheparded off an hour before by their mother, much to their chagrin. They'd been entranced by the fighting and weapons and grieved to leave it behind for arithmetic. But you'd stayed. Leaned against a wall as he'd shown off and you'd pretended to be unimpressed.

"You are still here, my lady?" he asked as he stepped out of the crowd of knights and squires, chest heaving from exertion.

You shrugged, trying to keep your eyes trained on his face. "I've not else to do."

"And you are certain you have not stayed to avoid anyone?" He leaned beside you.

That confused you. "Who would I be avoiding?"

Your confusion confused him. "Ormund?"

You breathed a laugh. "Oh my, I had forgotten he existed." Another giggle. Gwayne's beautiful smile spread wide. The bright white a contrast against his dirtied skin. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. You reached into the bust of your gown and withdrew a handkerchief. "You're dripping."

He accepted it and wiped his face, pausing to inhale the scent. "Lavender?"

"And rosemary." You grieved to see the grim wiped away.

He grimaced as he surveyed the cloth. "I fear I may have stained it."

"It is only a handkercief."

"I shall have it cleaned."

"Ser Gwayne," you cut him off and reached into the otherside, pulling free another. Your body tingled as his gaze lingered on your breasts. "Tis a cloth. I have many more." His cheeks colored as he realized his gaze had yet to waver. He accepted the second and mopped up the sweat from his neck.

"I have offended you."

You snorted. "Hardly." Flattered more like.

"Still," he said, folding the cloths and tucking them in his pocket, "I do not wish to have you think me a pig."

"A pig you are most certainly not. As you said, a lesser man would have taken my teasing as invitation last night," you assured.

Gwayne laughed, throwing his head back and nearly choking on the sound. "You are truly a wonder."

Your nonchalance was beginning to crack. The teasing had heated your skin in such a way it turned damp. You fanned yourself with your hand to aleve the warmth. "A wonder who is in want of a bath."

"You wish to join me in a bath?"

Surprise colored your laugh. “My, my, you have grown quite bold in but a day! Perhaps you do belong in a pen.”

—

You sat beside Alicent, clapping along at the Dornishman who’d unseated a Tarley squire. You remembered him from the training yard from the last few days you’d spent watching. Vaguely. Most of your attention had been concentrated on someone else. Lord Baratheon embarrassed himself next, asking for favor of The Queen Who Never Was only to be unseated by the very same Dornishman. Your aunt’s smirk as he was dragged away matched your own.

Your heart raced as Gwayne rode out in the line of knights for Prince Daemon to choose from. His face was hidden behind his helmet, the motif of the High Tower adorning it like a crown. Prince Daemon passed the line slowly, studying the options. He veered his horse back at the end of the line and strutted past several knights before pausing, backtracking, and pointing his lance. At Gwayne. From the spat Daemon and Otto had had during the last Small Council meeting the day before, you doubted it was anything more than some petty vendetta on the prince's part.

But Gwayne trotted happily to the stands and came to a halt in front of you. He lifted his visor, grin wide. He held his lance towards you. "Might you do me the honor, my lady, of giving me your favor?"

Heat bloomed through your face as you stood, clutching the garland tightly. Eyes bore into you from every angle. You let garland, wrapped in rope and seashells, slide down the lance. "I wish you luck, my knight."

He gave a short bow, shutting his visor and returning to the field. The herald announced the start as you returned to your seat. Nails dug into the wood. Gwayne clipped the prince's shield, nearly knocking him off his horse and sending his lance flying. But upon their second meeting, the prince speared his new lance into the ground in front of Gwayne's horse. Both horse and rider hit the ground hard. His helmet had flown off and his face took the full force of the fall.

You stood as his body lay limp on the ground. For the few seconds he did not move, a crushing despair wrapped around your lungs. He’d only been in your life for a fortnight now, but you could not imagine it without him. A silly romantic notion you’d have mocked another for. But you could not help it. The despair eased only slightly when his head rose. Alive. Squires took hold of his arms and half carried, half dragged him away.

"My apologies, my lady," Daemon called cheerily as he cantered over, "for besting your knight. Perhaps I may take on your favour in recompense?"

Gwayne's retreating form disappeared behind the flaps of a tent. Your gaze turned on the prince, hard and cold. "Thank you, but my favor is not so easily redirected."

His smirk did not falter. "Well, that is a pity." You do not stay to see what conversation he had with his niece and Alicent.

The men in the tent tried to force you away. Not a place for a lady. But after years on docks and ships, you knew how to hold your ground in places much harsher than some medical tent. Gwayne laid on a bed, armor gone and face cleaned. Cuts littered his face and his eye was beginning to bruise. But he was awake, watching you in amusement. "Are you lost, my lady?"

Relief sagged your shoulders. "I was worried." You knelt at his bed and gripped his hand. "Are you alright?"

"My ego may never recover, but my body will."

Your other hand brushed hair from his face. "You do not give your ego enough credit. It shall recover quite well." Your teasing lacked any bite.

He leaned his head into your palm. "With your attentions nursing it, perhaps."

You shook your head, but smiled. "Perhaps." You lowered your voice. "If there is anything you need, any way I can help, you must tell me."

"There is one thing." His hand squeezed yours. "I have not yet asked your uncle. I had hoped to after I crowned you Queen of Love and Beauty, but alas." You bit your lip at the heat creeping up your neck. He sat up, holding your hand tighter. "I cannot think of a less romantic setting than here, but I can no longer contain myself. Will you allow me the honor of your hand?"

"Do you not already have it?" you teased.

His eyes narrowed. "That is not an answer."

"It is not," you agreed. "But it is a taste of what to expect when you are my husband."

His smile returned. "Call me that again."

"My husband?"

He hummed, bringing your hand to his lips. "Yes I quite like the sound of that."

Your smile mirrored his. "Shall I call for a Septon?"

"Tempting as the offer is, I have already denied you romance in my offer. I will not deny you a true wedding as well." He kissed the back of your hand again. "Nor am I up to face your uncle's sword were I to marry you without his consent."

You heaved a sigh and pouted. "Denied me? What is romance if not a confession made from nothing more than one's heart? I shall be the envy of all who learn that your love was so repulsed by restraint. I could marry you here and now and be just as happy." You leaned forward and placed a kiss against his temple. In a whisper you added, "Happier perhaps, as I would share your bed this night."

He groaned. "Do not make my recovery so difficult, my lady."

You smiled, pulling away. "You are right, my knight. We should perhaps wait until you are at least fully capable of taking me in the ways a man should his wife."

"You are cruel," he chuckled. "Perhaps I should rescind my offer."

"And deprive yourself of a wife such as me? Never."

"No, never.

—

Nine moons. They wanted to wait nine moons for a wedding. Time for you both to return to your respective homes and then for you to travel via ship to Old Town. Nine whole moons apart.

“It’s not ideal,” Gwayne agreed as you walked through the gardens. “But it is not as long as it could be. I’ve seen engagements last years.”

Your head rested against his arm. “I should have convinced you to marry me in that tent.” The scars had nearly healed on his face. A tragedy. They suited him well.

He stopped and took both your hands in his. His lips brushed across your knuckles. “It would not have taken much.”

You tilted your head, a soft smile spreading across your face. His nose bumped against yours. His breath fanned across your cheeks. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb tracing a scar. “How cruel for you to tell me days later. Is it not punishment enough I must wait nine moons for even a kiss?”

He hummed. His hand raised to cradle the back of your neck. The tips of his fingers danced along the exposed skin there. Tension coiled tight in your stomach. You tilted your head up ever so slightly, breath fanning against his mouth.

Gwayne hesitated. “We should not.”

“Please?”

He closed the little distance, lips pressing softly against yours. It was quick and light and not nearly enough. You chased his lips as he pulled away, the hand on his cheek not letting him escape. Another kiss. Longer, less delicate. Then another. His lips parted and his tongue slid across yours in a plea for entrance. One you granted happily. Your hand fell to his tunic and tugged him along as you began to walk backwards into a small alcove where you’d be less likely to be seen.

Hidden away, his arm wrapped around your waist and held you taut against him. The kiss was deep and desperate and the ache between your legs maddening.

"Gwayne," you gasped against his lips. You pressed closer. The groan that left his mouth shot straight to your core. You whined, pulling back from the kiss and looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Gwayne," you repeated.

"We shouldn't," he muttered, kissing your cheek. "Not here. Not now."

Your head fell back as his lips traced the column of your neck. "Why?"

"Because," his teeth nipped at the underside of your jaw, "I am not a lesser man." His nose traced along your jaw, stopping at the hinge. "And the first time I take you, I want to be able to spend the entire night worshiping you in our wedding bed."

"Gwayne.”

His groan was pained. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder, grip on your waist tightening. Had it not been for the call of your name from further in the gardens, you were sure you could have convinced him of much more than a few stolen kisses.

—

Daemon was not an easy man to find. After the birth of the king’s son and his loss of the tourney, he’d been absent much of the remaining festivities. But luck was on your side as you found him strolling through the same corridor as you. Alone.

"Prince Daemon," you called, catching his attention. He paused and turned towards you, an easy smirk on his face.

"My Lady," he greeted, bowing his head. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

You smiled. “How would you like to displease the Lord Hand?”

—

Just as promised, guards were nowhere to be found when you scurried through the sleeping Keep. The unattended door opened without resistance. Crackling from the fire and soft snores were the only sounds in the room. With a smile, you shut the door and drooped your cloak over a chair.

Your steps were silent, careful, as you came upon the bed.

Gwayne snored. Not loud, not obnoxious. Soft and sweet. He slept on his stomach, arms wrapped around the pillow under his head. Only a thin sheet covered him and it laid dangerously low on his hips. His bare back a canvas of muscle and freckles.

You called his name and shook his shoulder. He snorted, turning his head and cracking his eyes. They went wide. Like the pure maiden he was, he reached for the sheet and pulled it to cover his bare chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could not sleep.”

His head tilted and eyebrows drew together. "That is...not a good reason."

"I could not sleep," you repeated, a teasing edge to your voice, "because I could not stop thinking about you."

He swallowed, the lump in his throat bobbing. "My love," he said, voice thick. It was the first time he called you that. “You should not be here. If someone saw you—“

"They didn’t.”

His gaze was heavy as he searched your face and then fell to the lace trimmed shift. And your bare thighs. “Have you come to seduce me?”

You leaned forward, breath ghosting across his lips. His hand gripped the sheet tightly, knuckles white. His tongue flicked across his lower lip. "Is it working?"

“This is highly improper. We are not married.”

“But we will be.” You pulled back. “Unless you have changed your mind.”

His arm snaked around your waist, dragging you on top of him with a surprised yelp. The sheet was the only thing between you. Something pressed against your rear. No, not something. Him. Cock. Penis. Member. Whatever it was called. It was hard. His hands settled on your waist. Adoration and desire had him staring at you like a man starved. "My lady, my love," he murmured, thumbs stroking your ribs, "I shall never change my mind."

"Good," you whispered, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss against his lips. A kiss that turned more urgent and deep as your hands roamed along his chest. He groaned, the sound muffled by your mouth. His hands slid to your hips to push you lower. His hardness pressed against your aching cunt. You rocked against it, relishing the feeling and the way his head fell back, breaking the kiss, and a string of curses you’d never heard from him escaped.

"Gwayne," you gasped, rolling your hips. His grip tightened. He rocked with you, creating an addicting friction.

”This must go,” he said, tugging up your shift. You helped him discard it quickly. "Gods," he hissed. Your own curse fell from your lips as his hands cupped your breasts. “How are they more beautiful than I imagined?”

“Imagined?”

His thumb flicked across a nipple, drawing a gasp from you. “Every night since you offered me your maidenhead.” The coil in your belly tightened. He flipped the two of you over, the weight of his body pinning you down. The sheet had been pushed down enough for his cock to spring free. It lay hard against your thigh. His lips pressed kisses along your jaw. His hand returned to your breast. His other snaked between your bodies and down.

His finger pressed against the little bundle of nerves. Pleasure shot through your veins, your back arching. He kissed down your chest and took a nipple into his mouth. His finger worked slow, teasing circles around the nub. The coil wound tighter.

"Gwayne," you sighed as a second finger joined the first. They dipped inside of you. "Gwayne."

His chuckle vibrated against your skin. His lips traveled lower, peppering kisses over your stomach. The hand on your breast slipped lower, wrapping around your thigh and spreading your legs wider.

You moaned as his tongue flicked over the bundle.

"So wet," he moaned, dipping his tongue inside. Your hand buried in his hair, urging him to keep going. And he did. Licking, sucking, teasing. Every motion had the coil winding tighter. Your toes curled. Your hips bucked. With a cry, pleasure flooded through every vein.

Trembling, panting. Eyes shut from the blissful high. The bed shifted. The warmth of his body above yours disappeared. A moment later, his lips pressed against yours.

"My love," he said, stroking a thumb along your jaw.

Your eyes opened, staring at his flushed face. A sheen of sweat covered his brow. His lips swollen. You surged forward, crashing your lips against his.

A growl rumbled through his chest as he pinned you to the bed again. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming it as his. His cock pressed against your thigh. You spread your legs wider, welcoming him between them. He rocked, the tip brushing between your folds. He sucked in a breath and his eyes squeezed shut. His fingers dug into the mattress. He was holding himself back.

"We shouldn't," he mumbled.

You frowned, sitting up on your elbows. "Why not?”

“Because I will not take your maidenhead until by law and the gods I am your husband.”

Your hips rolled and his tip slid through the wetness once more, drawing another moan from him. He pressed his forehead against yours.

"You are cruel."

"Tis what you love about me," you countered.

"My love," he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, brief kiss. "My love." Another. And another.

Your hands braced against his chest. "My husband."

He groaned, burying his head against your neck. He nipped at the skin and rocked against you, careful to not slip inside. You bit your lip to stifle your own sounds as his cock rubbed against your bundle. Your hand slid to his rear, digging into the flesh, and rocking with him. It was an intoxicating sensation. Feeling him against you, hard and heavy. "My love," he gasped against your collarbone.

"My husband," you breathed.

A stilted breath. He hips snapped forward once. Twice. Spend coated your thigh. His cock softened against your leg. He pressed kisses along your neck and shoulder. "My love."

You chuckled. "I believe you've made a mess, good Ser."

He grunted and lifted his head, grinning. He pressed a kiss against the tip of your nose. "I believe that is your fault, my love."

"My fault? I hardly think so."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "I am but little more than the victim of your temptation. I was peacefully sleeping when you came near nude into my private chambers to seduce me."

"Perhaps you should lock your doors if you do not wish to be disturbed."

"Perhaps I should." Another soft kiss and he peeled himself away. A moment later he returned with two handkerchiefs in his hands. Your handkerchiefs. "The servents are going to think I had these cleaned so I could relieve myself in them." He used them to clean the mess he'd left across your thigh.

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched. He was set to leave in two days time and then you would not see him for nine moons. Not see his face, not hear his voice, not make him laugh. You did not fear he would change his mind. Only that his absence would drown you in despair.

Concern painted his face as he looked up to your face. “What is wrong?”

“I shall miss you.”

Handkerchiefs discarded on the floor, he came and cradled you against him. “I shall miss you too.”

—

“Funny thing,” the prince said as you poured a new bottle of wine into the decanter. You were surprised he made it to the small council meeting. “I sent servants this morning to discover a defilled maiden in her bethrothed’s bed, but all they found was said betrothed and a few defiled handkerchiefs.”

You bit your tongue to quell the giggle that threatened. What beautiful shade of red had Gwayne turned upon discovery? “The betrothed sounds like an honorable man.”

“And the maiden like a woman who denied me a great pleasure.”

“If it’s any consolation, she too was denied a great pleasure.” You paused, cocking your head. “Well, not entirely denied. But she is a maiden still.”

“A pity for all.”

—

The carriages were packed, the Hightower entourage trilling about to leave in less than an hour's time. Alicent and Rhaynera were amongst the pack. They’d be in Old Town for the next year to witness the wedding. But Gwayne had yet to join them.

“My cousin is not the timeliest. Prepare to be late for much. You shall spend much of your marriage waiting for him to tear away from his own reflection,” Ormund taunted. He’d been less than happy about the match. A bruised ego.

You smiled sweetly at him. “I expect to be late to much. For I shall find it difficult to tear myself away from him and our bed.” He blanched at that and soon excused himself.

“What in heavens did you say to send him running off like that?”

You spun to find your betrothed and his teasing smirk. “I have no idea. We were only speaking of your tardiness and how frequently you and I shall be tardy once we are wed.”

“And here I thought your cruelty could only be aimed at me.” He took your hand and placed a kiss against it. The most he could offer in such a public place. And the last for many moons.

A pain shot through your heart.

“Have you come to say goodbye?” Alicent called from a few yards away. It confused you as she made her way over. Had you not already wished her a safe trip?

“Indeed, sister,” Gwayne said, bowing his head. “What sort of brother would I be if I did not come to see you off?”

You held your tongue long enough for them to speak their farewells. When she’d returned to the princess’s side, you rounded on him. “You’re staying?”

He continued to stare ahead, watching his kin prepare for their journey. “Nine moons was far too long to be apart. Lady Leana was kind enough to help convince the Lord and Lady of the Tides that I should see the ancestral home of my betrothed.” Tears fell down your cheeks. Fretting over the display, his thumb swept away the wet streaks “My love, I thought you would be happy?”

“I am sorry. These are not sad tears, I am happy.” How you wished you were alone. “I am beyond happy.” The tears continued to fall. You pulled free a handkerchief from your bust and dabbed your face. You were prepared to say something heartfelt about how glad you were to have him, but his eyes were locked on your breasts. And a bulge was forming in the trousers. “Does a handkerchief arose you?”

Red colored his face and he attempted a casual pose with his hands to hide the growing problem. “It is your and your lovely bosom’s fault.”

A wicked grin spread across your face. “It is like a dog trained with a bell,” you mused. “I wonder what other tricks I can teach you in nine moons trapped with me on ships and an island.”

Other New Fics:

Favorites Dress (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Lioness (Kraven the Hunter x Reader)

[kittenintheden]

Let Go

just a horny lil thing nbd

Rating: E Word Count: >1k Content: 18+, fluff, gentle sex, making love on a bearskin rug and being mushy about it, gender neutral reader

---

It's taken time, encouragement, and familiarity to reach this point, but you're here now. Lost in bliss, riding your love's lap as he continues to take his pleasure in you. You've come already, of course, because Astarion is nothing if not a stubbornly attentive lover.

It's been work for both of you to get to this place of true comfort, of true loving abandon, and it's been so very worth it. Your post-orgasmic haze leaves your focus soft and glowing, your hands knit together behind his neck as you ride him, watching him finally let himself go and enjoy the moment to the fullest. A little selfishness. A little self-focus.

His eyes are closed as he sinks into the sensation of you, his arms wrapped around your back as he thrusts up, up, up, your body gently bouncing from it. Long and languid strokes going much sloppier than he'd normally allow, so many months ago, but he's no longer obsessed with the performance of the thing. He's here. He's inside you. He's letting himself feel it all.

Astarion takes a hand from your back and spreads it out against the bearskin rug where you're making love, giving himself more leverage as he lifts himself into your pliant heat. His breath comes in short bursts, little puffs past his lips. He tries to interject his favorite sultry quips when he can -- he is a man who loves the sound of his own voice -- but even those come out piecemeal.

"So hot inside," he pants, resting his forehead against the side of your cheek. "Feel so… bloody good. Want to… want to… I… please can I…"

You watch his face, the tension between his brows as his pleasure climbs, the way his lips part, the tips of his teeth just peeking through. His hair, his pride, falling unkempt and sweaty across his forehead. Your own body is stretched with aching pleasure, your recent peak leaving you sated and delighting in the simple joy of feeling him inside you.

It's magic, seeing him like this. No grand gestures, no performative moves, no catalog of exciting positions. Its just you, and him, and your collective ecstasy. Your collective love made physical. You smile to yourself, secret, and reach up gentle fingers to caress his ear, thumb rubbing soft circles, stroking along it lobe to tip, and he groans as he leans his head into it.

"Going to make… going to make me come, I… can't…" he stutters.

You know. You know exactly what you're doing, and you're rewarded with a long roll of his hips up into yours, his fingers gripping you tight, and the wrinkle in his brow smoothing out into relaxed rapture as his mouth stretches into a lazy, contented smile before it drops open. You watch the journey across his face as he reaches the crest of his wave and then crashes down with it to the other side.

He holds you tighter to him as he shivers, his last thrusts shallow and messy.

"Gods, gods, gods," he whimpers, going softer, going weaker, going still.

When he finally opens his heavy eyelids to look upon you, you know there are stars in your eyes. There is simply nothing like watching him let go for you. With you.

[wrr000]

"Small gestures"

The Destined One x reader - headcanons about communication +really short oneshot at the end

Notes: it's basically @szynkaaa idea!!!!!!!!!!!! go and check their blog NOW!!!!!!!!!!! i'm currently working on another headcanons with the destined one and more serious oneshot, hope y'all will enjoy this

Warnings: fluff, kinda fanon the destined one? english is not my first language so i will prob make some changes later! i also exaggerated the situation in oneshot for the fluff, forgive me

travelling with silent destined one was difficult, but soon you realized that sometimes gestures can express more than words

at first it was hard to communicate, this barrier seemed insurmountable to you

but you quickly noticed that he wasn't trying to push you away or left you behind because of it, no - he tired to show you with small gestures that he actually cared

it started with slowing down a little so you could catch up or glancing at you to make sure you were still walking next to him

gently poking you with his hand or tugging your clothes to get your attention

stretching his arm to prevent you from walking further and signaling you to hide behind him. he always made the same gesture then

finding you a safe spot to hide when he knew a tough fight was coming

when an enemy apeared unexpectedly and you were in the middle of the fight, he bought you some time to escape somewhere safe

grabbing you by forearm to make sure you didn't get hurt (you have to tell him several times that you're fine, boy is worried)

all these little things made you understand him more and at some point you learned how to read his body language, gestures and face expressions; scratching his ear when impatient or confused, characteristically touching his nose when he's thinking and all those kind of things

you just knew what he wanted to say (but couldn't)

during this time, you didn't even notice how much you were getting closer and how much you cared for each other

he never made you feel like a burden and you always tried to help him as much as you can

you could talk to him about anything and he would listen to you carefully, making sure you feel comfortable

the destined one never would have thought that he would meet someone like you(and fall in love) during his journey

of course it isn't a flawless relationship because it's still a cheeky monkey that cannot stand 5 seconds without getting into a fight, but it's a story for another time

---

Leaving that cursed land of rats was something you had been waiting for a long time. Almost from the moment you arrived there. Sandstorms were hard to survive, let alone the mad rat king and his two sons. However, you quickly missed the sandy landscapes, because the next stop was a land covered with ice.

Journey to the next Relic wasn't easy. The snow was falling heavily, limiting your vision. The horizon disappeared, you could only see The Destined One figure forcing his way through the high layer of snow. You felt that your shoes were already soaked along with the lower part of your clothes.

Even though you were following the path beaten by your companion, you were moving slowly. You sighed heavily at the thought that you probably still had a long way to go and you could only dream about a break. How nice it would be to sit by the fire and warm yourself. Suddenly various memories started coming back to haunt you here, in the middle of nowhere.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the familiar warmth. You looked to your left and met his shining eyes, staring into your red face. The Destined One was standing next to you, wrapping his arm around you. A slight smile appeared on his face.

"Sorry", you said quietly. "I'm slowing us down"

But he just shook his head as if he wanted to say that you were talking nonsense. With a firm move, he pulled you closer to him. Your bodies touched even more, you felt a pleasant warmth radiating from him. His hot breath spread across your frozen place. Even know you could feel his unique, but nice scent.

He noticed your tiredness and how chilly you were. You had been shivering from the cold for a while now. He wished he had something to cover you with, but all he could offer was his arm. You appreciated his concern and looking out for you. That alone made you not feel so poorly anymore.

"Thank you, much better now", you said with a smile. "We can go"

He nodded, clealry pleased with the answer. You to were walking together now, hugging each other. The road didn't seem so hard anymore and the snow slowly stopped failing. The horizon became clearer, revealing hugh mountains and old temples. You finally felt like you had made progress. Previous difficulties became only unpleasant memories.

The closer you got, the more the weather was getting better. It was still snowing, but it wasn't even that cold anymore. And yet you still walked together, hugged to each other, neither of you thinking about pulling away. While admiring the views, you told him some old story from your childhood about a hard winter in your village. When you weren't looking, he was admiring you in silence, enjoying the moment.

[wolverigrl]

The first date

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

!Disclaimer! I made some small changes in the last parts! The movie they made is a fictional one about Lady Deadpool. Everything takes place in 2015. Y/n is in her late 20s. Blake and Ryan got married long before and I changed the ages of their and Hugh's kids so it would fit more!

Warnings: none, only some swearing here and there and a bit fluff, not proofread!!

Enjoy!

Previous part

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

The early morning breeze was cool as I jogged through Central Park, the soft hum of the city waking up in the background. The familiar rhythm of my footsteps against the pavement was oddly comforting, almost like a meditation. I pulled my black baseball cap lower, shielding my eyes from the rising sun, and zipped up my running jacket a bit more. My leggings clung comfortably to my legs, and I felt grounded, my mind clear, my body moving with ease.

Jogging here had become part of my routine, a way to escape for a moment. The quiet mornings felt like a reset. As I slowed my pace and started walking toward the park exit, my breathing still steady, I noticed two people approaching from the side, their faces lighting up in recognition.

"Excuse me... are you y/n?" the guy asked, his voice a little shaky with excitement.

I smiled softly, adjusting my cap. "Yeah, that’s me."

The girl next to him looked at me with wide eyes, already fumbling for her phone. "Oh my God, we are big fans! Can we take a picture with you?"

I chuckled, nodding. "Of course, let’s do it."

We huddled together, her phone snapping a few pictures. The guy, who looked like he was around his early twenties, lingered for a moment longer, hesitating before speaking.

“You probably hear this all the time." he began, "but you really inspired me. I’ve always wanted to act, but I didn’t have the courage to pursue it. Seeing you do what you love gave me the push I needed so I just joined a local theater group."

For a moment, his words hung in the air, and I felt a rush of warmth. It wasn't every day someone said something so meaningful.

"That’s amazing! I’m so glad I could inspire you. Keep at it, okay? It’s tough, but if it’s your passion, it’s always worth it."

He nodded, his face full of excitement and we hugged each other as a goodbye. As they walked away, I called out, “You made my day! Love you guys!” Their faces lit up even more, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like this.

This encounter left me with a good feeling, and as I walked back home, I couldn’t help but feel lighter. Connecting with people like that reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

Back in my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. My mind wandered to everything that had happened over the past few days—work, interviews, photoshoots—but one thing stuck out more than the rest: Hugh. I had been thinking about him more than usual, and after yesterday’s intense moment, it was hard not to.

Still, before I let my thoughts drift too far, I got got into the bathroom for a quick refreshing shower. After that I changed into a comfy office look, grabbed my phone and dialed my parents. I hadn’t caught up with them in a while, and I missed hearing their voices.

“Y/n! Pumpkin! How’s our superstar?” my mom’s voice greeted me on the other end.

I smiled, sinking into the cushions. "Super busy, as usual. But everything’s going well. I'll have a meeting with the team today. lots of interviews coming up."

We chatted for a while about my schedule, how they were doing, and the usual family updates. I purposely avoided mentioning anything about Hugh. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them, but I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Not when things between us were still so undefined.

After saying goodbye, I got up to get ready for my meeting at the office. As I was applying a bit of makeup, my phone buzzed on the counter. Hugh’s name appeared on the screen.

HUGH: Good morning, beautiful❤️ How's your day starting?

I couldn’t help but smile as I typed back, already feeling my heart speed up a little.

Y/N: Good morning handsome🥰 Doing pretty good so far. Just came back from my morning run. How about yours?

Almost immediately, his reply came through.

HUGH: I still don’t know how you can enjoy running😅 Mine's good too. Picked coffee with a friend and now we're at his house already working.

Y/N: Maybe you're just getting old?👀

HUGH: Why so mean? Did you trip on your run?

I snapped a quick selfie in the mirror with my tongue out and send it to him.

Y/N: I'm not mean. It was a legitimate question. I'm heading to the office now! Wish me luck!😘

HUGH: Looking great as always! And good luck, though you don’t need it. You always kill it sweetheart😘

A moment later, another message appeared, this time with a photo of Hugh, standing in what looked like an unfinished house. He was wearing a tight-fitting shirt, his arms slightly dusted with sawdust, his hair messy in a way that only made him look better. I paused, biting my lip. He looked really good. And my mind, much to my frustration, flashed back to that kiss.

Y/N: Somebody pls call the fire department🔥

HUGH: Lady, stop exaggerating😂

I chuckled, shaking my head. There was something so annoyingly attractive about how casual he was, even when he looked like that. After a few more texts, I realized I had to leave or I’d be late.

The management office was buzzing with energy when I arrived, as usual. I greeted everyone warmly, settling into the meeting room where we began discussing upcoming interviews and events. Everything was going smoothly, just the usual PR talk—until one of the managers, Sam, leaned forward with a more serious expression.

“So, we’ve been thinking,” he began. “The buzz around you and Hugh has been great for both of your images. The movie’s coming out soon, and the fan speculation has been... let’s just say, active”

I nodded slowly, already sensing where this was going.

“We think it would be smart to keep that momentum going." Sam continued. “Even after the release of the movie, we want you two to keep up the appearance of having something going on. Publicly, deny it in interviews, of course. But tease the people a bit more. Keep them guessing.”

I blinked, processing what he was saying. "So, you want us to pretend we’re together, but not really confirm anything?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly. It’ll keep the public engaged, and your fanbases will stay hooked. It’s good for both of you."

The idea sat heavy in my chest. I could see why they wanted it—it made sense from a PR standpoint—but the thought of turning something personal into a game made me uneasy. What if it messed things up between Hugh and me? What if it turned whatever we were trying to figure out into a spectacle?

“I’ll talk to Hugh about it." I said carefully. “And I think it’s best if you reach out to his team as well, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Sam smiled, satisfied. "Good call. Let us know what you both decide."

They nodded, and we moved on to other topics. I was particularly excited when they mentioned a potential collaboration with a fashion brand. Modeling for a brand had always been a dream, and eagerly agreed.

After sorting out some paperwork, I left the office, my mind still swirling with everything we discussed. As I stepped outside, my phone rang. It was Chris.

"Hey!" he greeted me. "I'm in New York earlier than planned. Are you free?"

Of course, I agreed, and we arranged to meet up at his hotel. Soon, we were stroling through the city together, talking about everything from movies to work. Even though my phone buzzed several times, I ignored it, wanting to be fully present with Chris.

After a while, Chris turned to me with a grin. "So, about those rumors with you and Hugh... anything you want to share?" I felt my stomach twist. Lying to I Chris didn't sit right with me, but Hugh and I had agreed that only Ryan and Blake knew about us. So, I gave him the standard answer.

"We’re just friends,” I said, not quite meeting his eyes. “You know how the rumors go. Our Managers want us to play along because it looks good. That’s all.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but letting it slide. “If you say so.”

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, he said, “Actually... I’ve been meaning to tell you. I met someone.”

I blinked, surprised. "What? When?"

“Not too long ago. Her name’s Alba. She’s incredible—smart, sweet, talented and down-to-earth. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

As Chris spoke, his eyes lit up, and I could tell he was smitten. I felt a surge of happiness for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Chris, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you.”

He smiled, clearly touched by my excitement, and we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city, talking about Alba, his family and how things were going. Eventually, I had the idea to skip the pub and order takeout instead. Chris agreed, but only on one condition.

"We have to watch a Disney movie!" He said with eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Deal!" I laughed.

After heading back to my place, we posted a photo of us together on Instagram, and as expected, the comments looded in.

>>ginainabottle: Where's Hugh?😭<<

>>markix69: Y/n always with the dilfs. QUEEN💯<<

>>teddy1xoxo: How is it living my dream?❤️😭<<

I finally checked my messages and saw a few from Hugh.

HUGH: Have fun tonight😘

HUGH: Meeting up already?

HUGH: Everything okay?

Guilt twisted in my stomach and I quickly called him.

"Hey.." I said softly when he picked up. "I'm so sorry I didn't respond earlier. I was just... you know how it is... We've been talking non-stop."

"Y/n it's fine." Hugh replied, but there was something off in his tone. "What've you two been up to?"

I told him everything--how we spend the day walking around, catching up and now were getting ready for a movie night.

"Chris is still here, actually." I added. "We're about to watch The Little Mermaid."

There was a pause before Hugh spoke again, and I could swear there was a hint of something... maybe jealousy? But I brushed it off.

"I miss you." he said, his voice softer now.

"I miss you too." I replied, smiling at he thought of seeing him soon.

"Oh, by the way." I added remembering the management's idea. "My team suggested we tease the fans a bit more online. Even after the movie releases."

Hugh chuckled. "Yeah, we can play around with it. Deny everything but drop a few hints. But what do you think?"

I bit my lip, thinking back to the conversation with my team. "I'm not sure, honestly. I don't want the media or public pressure to affect what we're building between us, you know? But if you're okay with it, maybe we should continue."

Hugh chuckled, the tension easing from his voice. "Like a soft launch, huh? So, we hint at things but never really confirm it?"

"Exactly." I said, smiling at the idea now that it was being said out loud. "We can have fun with it. But still deny things if people ask outright."

"Deal," he said, his tone light again. "Let's tease them a little, but keep the mystery alive."

We both laughed at the absurdity of it, and the playful tone of the conversation helped ease my earlier guilt. Then, Hugh's voice turned a bit more serious, though stillwarm. "By the way... how about gym and breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

I hesitated, not out of uncertainty but because of how much I wanted it. "Like... our first real date?" I asked, grinning into the phone.

"Yep. Our first official date." he confirmed, the excitement in his voice clear.

"Then, it's a yes!" I said, feeling butterflies stir in my stomach at the hought. "Where should we meet?

We hashed out the details and after a few more minutes of casual banter, we finally said our goodbyes, both of us feeling lighter.

As soon as I hung up, I turned to find Chris giving me a curious look from the couch. "So. first date, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't hide it anymore. "Yeah, fine. You got me," I admitted, plopping down beside him. "Hugh and I... there's something going on. But we're keeping it quiet for now. Chris grinned, clearly happy for me. "I had a feeling. And honestly? I'm happy for you. Hugh's a good guy He was always super nice when I had the chance talking to him."

"Thanks, Chris. It's just complicated, you know? With the media and all."

"Yeah, I get it." He said with a knowing nod. "But if anyone can handle it, it's you." He then smirked, his teasing side coming back. "So are you guys gonna do a soft launch like the rest of us normal people, or something more dramatic?"

I squealed and shoving his arm. "What the heck?! He mentioned a soft launch too! What are you? Telepathic?!" And we both bursted into laughter.

We calmed down and shifted our focus back to The Little Mermaid. Chris singing along to Part of Your World with exaggerated enthusiasm. It wasn't long before he dozed off, his head lolling back against the couch. I smiled fondly at him, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, but it was nice to end it with someone I trusted so much.

Grabbing my phone,I snapped a quick picture of Chris, chuckling to myself as I did and quickly posted the photo to Instagram with the caption:

>>y/n instagram: Disney and chill with my favorite co-star🧜🏻‍♂️<<

The comments poured in almost instantly, but I ignored the notifications, setting my phone on the coffee table and grabbing a blanket to drape over Chris. After making sure he was comfortable, I turned off the lights, heading to my bedroom. I slipped under the covers, the events of the day replaying in my mind. Hugh, Chris, the PR idea and the upcoming date.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Chris moving around the apartment. I got up and changed into comfy clothes as I walked into the living room where he was packing up his things, looking like the human version of a Disney prince as usual. As I stretched and rubbed my eyes, he glanced over at me with a soft smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead." he teased, zipping up his jacket. “I’ve got a meeting downtown, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

I sat up and gave him a playful wave. “Didn’t want me to think you snuck out, huh?”

“Exactly. I’m not that kind of guy,” he joked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Then his tone softened. “Hey, keep me updated on the Hugh situation, okay? I’m curious how things go. And don’t forget to tell me about that first date.”

I smiled, the warmth of his support making me feel even more confident. “I will. Thanks, Chris.”

He leaned down and gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “See you soon, y/n. And don’t forget, I’m always just a text away if you need me.”

“Will do. Good luck with your meeting!”

With a final wave, he headed out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a mess of nerves about my first official date with Hugh later that morning. I had no idea what to expect, but I hoped it wouldn’t turn into a disaster.

After Chris left, I freshened up, threw on my workout clothes, and made my way to the gym where Hugh and I had agreed to meet. This wasn’t just a casual workout—it was our first date, so I kinda did a big deal out of it.

When I arrived, Hugh was already there, looking ridiculously good in his gym gear. He waved me over with that easygoing smile that never failed to make my heart race.

“You ready?” he asked smiling down at me.

“I was born ready!" With this Hugh opened the door and let me go in first.

We started with some light cardio to warm up, and things were going smoothly—until we hit the weight section again. I’d watched Hugh easily lift a set of dumbbells like they were made of air, and, in a moment of misplaced confidence, I thought 'Why not?'. I grabbed a barbell and decided to push myself a bit further than usual. The first few reps went okay, but as I tried to push the barbell up again, my arms started to shake. I tried to power through it, but I quickly realized I had overestimated my strength. Just as the weight became too much, Hugh was beside me in an instant. “Need some help there?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. I tried to save face. “I’ve got it, just—just give me a second…” Before I could protest further, he gently but firmly took hold of the barbell, lifting it with ease and placing it back on the rack.

"Yeah, you totally had that under control." he teased, his smile widening. “Okay, maybe I overdid it a little." I admitted, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks.

"No shame in asking for help." he said, giving me a playful nudge. “Just don’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with me.”

I playfully groaned and lightly slapped his chest. He just laughed, pulling me tighter against him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I looked up at him, grinning, my gaze lingering on his lips for a beat too long.

“Do you need a kiss to forget that little mishap?” he teased, moving his face closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I smirked, voice dropping to a whisper, “Oh, I’ll need more than one to forget that.”

Before he could respond, I closed the gap between us, pulling him in with my arms wrapped around his neck. My fingers tangled in his messy, sweat-damp hair as our kiss deepened, the heat between us rising instantly. He brushed his tongue over my bottom lip, and I parted my lips, welcoming him further. His hands gripped me firmly at the waist, keeping me pressed tightly against him, while my hands couldn’t stay still, roaming over his broad shoulders and chest. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire, completely overtaken by the moment, the world around us fading away.

I didn’t even realize when my hands slipped under his shirt, fingertips grazing his warm skin. But just as quickly as the moment ignited, Hugh pulled back, breathless, his forehead resting against mine.

“We’re only on our first date,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “I haven’t even given you flowers yet.”

I chuckled softly, my head still spinning, and nodded. “You’re right. We said we wouldn’t rush things… and, well, making out in a public gym might be pushing it. I don’t think our management would be too thrilled if the media caught wind of this.”

Hugh laughed, loosening his hold on me, though his hands lingered for a moment longer. “Yeah, I can already hear the headlines.”

Reluctantly, we stepped back from each other, both grinning, but still feeling that magnetic pull between us.

After that little incident, we wrapped up the workout, and I offered to cook us breakfast back at my place. It was the least I could do after Hugh saved me from total humiliation. But as soon as I started cooking, I realized maybe that wasn't the best idea.

The eggs burned almost immediately, the toast was so hard you could break a tooth on it, and I somehow managed to get pancake batter all over the counter.

Hugh stood nearby, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and concern.

"I swear, I'm usually better at this." I said, desperately trying to salvage something from the mess. Hugh laughed, leaning against the counter. "Better at lifting weights or cooking?"

"Oh shut up!" I laughed and tossed a burnt piece of toast at him, which he dodged easily.

"You sure you don't want me to handle this?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

"Hugh, I already said no. I'm perfectly capable." I said defensively, though the evidence clearly suggested otherwise.

"You keep telling yourself that." he teased.

I flipped another pancake, only to see it land halfway off the pan.

I let out a dramatic sigh, slumping my shoulders in mock defeat. Hugh chuckled and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a quick kiss to my neck. The warmth of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard sent a shiver down my spine, goosebumps rising instantly. I turned my head towards him, and with a soft smile, he said, "Looks like the universe is giving you a day off from cooking. Let’s clean up and eat at the café instead."

Eventually, we gave up on my culinary attempt and decided to head downtown to the next café. We settled into a cozy corner table, ordering some coffee and toast. As the food arrived, I couldn't help but laugh.

"At least this can't go wrong, right?" joked, gesturing to the perfectly normal-looking plate in front of us. Hugh raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure. With us, anything's possible."

I pretended to look horrified. "Don't jinx it!"

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "So, What do you think of our first date so far?"

I paused, meeting his eyes.

Hugh leaned back smiling. "Well I've gotta say, it's been pretty great so far."

I chuckled, feeling the warmth spread through me. "I agree. Disaster-prone, but definitely memorable."

We spent the rest of breakfast chatting, laughing about the little mishaps from the past couple of hours, and just enjoying each other's company. It, again, felt easy and natural, even with the nerves of a first date hanging in the air.

As we finished up, Hugh reached under the table for my hand and squeezed it gently, giving me a soft look that made my heart skip a beat. "You know, I'm really glad we do this."

"Me too, Hugh." Iadmitted, feeling the same.

Later that afternoon, Hugh and I met up with Ryan for an interview promoting the movie, which finally releases tomorrow. It was just the three of us sitting in a comfortable setup, no live audience, just cameras, and a quiet room. I always looked forward to interviews with Ryan—he had a way of making everything fun and unpredictable.

The interviewer greeted us friendly with a firm handshake and began with the usual questions about the film after introducing us to the already recording camera.

"So, y/n, how did it feel stepping into the shoes of Lady Deadpool?”

I smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly, it was a dream. She’s such a chaotic, yet deeply emotional character. Playing her meant getting to do some wild action scenes while also diving into her personal struggles. Plus, I got to wear a lot of leather.”

Ryan jumped in, grinning. “And kick some serious butt. Let’s not forget that.”

The interviewer nodded and turned to Hugh. “And how about you, Hugh? Wolverine is such an iconic character. How was it returning to the role?”

Hugh smiled, looking relaxed. “It’s always an honor to play Wolverine. This time around, the dynamic with Deadpool—and Lady Deadpool—added a whole new level of fun. The banter, the action sequences, it all just felt... electric.”

Ryan leaned in dramatically. “But let’s be honest. It was terrible. We all hated each other on set!"

Hugh, the interviewer and I bursted into laughter as Ryan continued, completely straight-faced. "No, seriously, it was a nightmare. Every day was a battle I'm surprised we even finished the movie."

"I mean, you were pretty hard to work with.: I teased, leaning into the joke.

Ryan shrugged dramatically. "I do my best to bring chaos wherever I go."

The interviewer then introduced a fun segment: Fan questions pulled from Twitter. “Alright, we’ve got some tweets here from fans. Let’s see what they want to know.”

He read the first tweet aloud. “@MarvelFanGirl asks: ‘What was the funniest moment on set?’ "

Ryan immediately jumped in. “Oh, I’ve got this. There was actually a pretty intense kiss scene between y/n and Hugh in the original cut of the film, but - spoiler alert - it got cut because the film was running too long. Marvel classics." Hugh chuckled, already shaking his head in amusement.

"And I swear by the mother of my children, Blake Ellender Lively!" he dramatically paused. "They just kept going after the director's cut! The crew didn't know if they were still in the scene or... well, if it was method acting, if you know what I mean."

At this point the interviewer started laughing uncontrollably and held his hand in front of his mouth.

I laughed, hiding my face in my hands. “Why do you always bring that up?”

“Because it’s comedy gold!” Ryan laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Don't listen to him, Hugh said, grinning. "He's just upset he didn't get a kiss scene."

"Eeeexactly!" Ryan exclaimed, pointing at Hugh. "Where's Deadpool's kiss scene, huh? It's an outrage!"

Even the crew behind the cameras started laughing and the interviewer moved on with the questions, still giggling.

"Ryan, if you could switch roles with anyone in the cast, who would it be?" asked the interviewer.

Without missing a beat, Ryan replied.

"Y/n, hands down. She got the sexiest costume, the coolest weapons, and she gets to kick more butt than anyone else. Plus, let's not forget--she gets to kiss Hugh."

I groaned, shaking my head while Hugh laughed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never!" Ryan said with a grin.

The next tweet came in, and the interviewer read it out. “@WolverineLover asks: ‘If Wolverine and Lady Deadpool had their own spin-off movie, what would it be about?’”

Hugh pretended to think seriously. “I imagine it would be about trying to stop Lady Deadpool from blowing up everything in sight.”

I shot him a mock-offended look. “Hey, Lady Deadpool isn’t that destructive.”

Ryan snorted. “Oh please, she’d turn the whole thing into a circus. Wolverine would just be there for damage control.”

We all laughed as we moved on to the next question. “@DeadpoolRocks asks: ‘Ryan, how much of Deadpool is actually you?’ "

Ryan grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, about 90%, I’d say. The other 10% is just me trying to look cooler than I actually am.”

As the interview wrapped up, we exchanged a few more lighthearted jabs, and I couldn’t help but feel how much fun we had together. Ryan and Hugh had a way of making every moment a little less serious and a lot more entertaining.

“Alright." Ryan said, standing up as the cameras shut off. “Who’s ready for round two tomorrow?”

I moaned, already dreading whatever he had in store. “I’m not sure my dignity can handle it.”

Hugh laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walked out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to save you. Again.”

“Let’s just hope there are no weights involved this time,” I quipped.

After the interview, we walked off stage, and Ryan clapped Hugh on the back.

"Man, I'm still disappointed they cut the kiss scene. We were all waiting for the slow-motion sparks."

Hugh just laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why the audience would come to watch the movie. For that."

Ryan wagged his finger. "Don't underestimate the power of romance, Jackman. Fans live for that!"

I shot both of them a look, trying to keep a straight face. "As long as no one mentions the breakfast disaster, I'll consider this interview a win."

Ryan blinked, clearly intrigued. "What breakfast disaster?"

Hugh grinned mischievously, but before he could spill, I put my hand over his mouth in protest. "Nope! Not happening. What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. "Im going to get that story out of one of you. Just wait!"

"Ha! You wish!" I called over my shoulder, heading out of the studio with them.

Eventually, we split off, with Ryan going in one direction, and Hugh and I in another, after we said our goodbyes.

Hugh opened the passenger door for me so that I could get in. After my little "Thank you", he closed the door with a smile and sat down on the other side. "My place or yours?"

I kissed his cheek. "Let's go to your place."

With that, Hugh drove off, placing his hand on my thigh as he drove.

Smiling, I looked out of the window and stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. What a day.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild

Next part

Sorry if it's not proofread! Struggled with a migraine today but still wanted to finish this part. But I tried my best! And I hope I didn't confuse anybody with the small changes.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love. 

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love  +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity. 

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s. 

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory. 

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t. 

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

.

.

.

It starts with the little things. 

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23. 

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying. 

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them. 

.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly. 

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy. 

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze. 

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry. 

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji. 

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away. 

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them. 

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in. 

A chuckle escapes you. 

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone. 

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.  

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue. 

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly). 

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing. 

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order). 

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly. 

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly. 

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you. 

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times. 

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick. 

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you. 

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning. 

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage. 

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice. 

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming. 

Is this what it means to be in love with you? 

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you. 

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing. 

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there. 

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will. 

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen. 

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin. 

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own. 

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old. 

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek. 

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this. 

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit. 

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him? 

.

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score. 

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems. 

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely. 

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing. 

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes. 

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this. 

.

.

.

Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room. 

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette. 

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into. 

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it. 

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach. 

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’. 

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age. 

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined. 

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines. 

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students. 

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew. 

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly. 

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy. 

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time. 

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced. 

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen? 

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially. 

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully. 

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared. 

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too. 

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing. 

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile. 

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy). 

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since. 

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly. 

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.  

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too. 

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you. 

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked. 

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you. 

.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue. 

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows. 

But it isn’t, and your smile widens. 

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does. 

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

.

.

.

“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel. 

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you. 

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow. 

“What made him ask?” 

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity. 

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.” 

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever. 

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his. 

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t. 

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders. 

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together. 

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks. 

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed. 

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours. 

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17. 

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology. 

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you. 

He says it as if it is the simplest truth. 

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll. 

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think. 

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.  

“Something like it.” 

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?” 

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you? 

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’. 

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering. 

Can he see? You’re meant for him only. 

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away. 

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other. 

You cup his cheeks. 

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now. 

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief. 

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile. 

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips. 

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you. 

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together. 

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips. 

You laugh—sprinkled in love. 

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!” 

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully. 

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.” 

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks. 

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now. 

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true. 

.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage. 

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should. 

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you? 

.

.

.

For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give. 

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing. 

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too. 

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface. 

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way. 

.

.

.

“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry. 

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up? 

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging. 

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through. 

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking. 

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving. 

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you. 

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

.

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you. 

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with. 

He knows it. 

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with? 

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same. 

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face. 

.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak. 

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him. 

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?) 

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today. 

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet. 

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold. 

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you. 

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go. 

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him. 

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it. 

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright. 

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask. 

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more. 

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society. 

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much. 

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him. 

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you. 

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips. 

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly. 

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks. 

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching. 

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry. 

Your grip on him tightens. 

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck. 

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.” 

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder. 

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum. 

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it. 

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even. 

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately. 

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.” 

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune. 

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled. 

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.” 

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding. 

You always do. 

.

.

.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today. 

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane. 

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making. 

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything. 

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over. 

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy. 

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky. 

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life. 

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.” 

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you. 

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way). 

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now. 

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined. 

You stare at him. He stares at you. 

He’s shocked too. 

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely. 

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.” 

The little laugh you make has him, completely. 

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too. 

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’. 

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you. 

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. 

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently. 

The best part about being in love? 

He gets to be in it with you. 

.

.

.

Gojo can’t sleep. 

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will. 

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching. 

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck. 

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m. 

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that. 

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it. 

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island. 

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating. 

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever. 

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling. 

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting. 

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him. 

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.  

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain. 

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it. 

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray. 

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too. 

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like. 

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you. 

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek. 

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret. 

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after. 

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already. 

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep. 

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing. 

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin. 

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging. 

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one. 

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone. 

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good. 

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.  

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing). 

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs. 

(And he loves that about you). 

.

.

.

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder. 

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill. 

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice. 

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them. 

He knows. 

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you. 

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only. 

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you. 

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed. 

.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy. 

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides. 

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.” 

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love. 

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night. 

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.  

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong. 

Are you happy with me? 

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!!  of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[nebulaafterdark]

Sooner Or Late (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N flees to the north before the start of the war. When it is over, Aegon will stop at nothing to get her back.

18+ ONLY targcest, implied dubcon, mental illness & violence

Part 1

Y/N wakes without Aegon’s warmth, something she has grown accustomed to in these past years. She craves his touch, like air to breathe. Pacing through their chambers, until voices can be heard just beyond the door.

“I love her, mother.” Aegon says, in a hushed tone.

“This is perverse, Aegon.” Alicent hisses, “she scarcely recalls her own name. Or what befell her mother, let alone her husband-”

“I am her husband!” Aegon shouts, “I am.”

“Because you slaughtered the first.”

“She needs me,” Aegon whispers.

“That is not her.” Alicent insists. “She wants nothing but what you impose upon her to want.”

“If you speak such slanders again, I will have your tongue removed.”

The cruel nature of his tone sends a chill down Y/N’s spine. Unlocking something within her she’s long since forgotten. The first…her first husband. She collapses to the floor, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Conjuring the memory of him.

Jonathan.

The man who loved her, truly. The man she now betrays, growing Aegon’s children in her womb. And her mother…her mother hasn’t come to see her because-

The door swings open and Aegon storms in, finding his wife curled around herself on the floor. “Oh, my dearest love.” He coos, sinking down to join her. “Come here, darling.” He pulls her into his lap. “Are you alright?”

“I could not find you.” She tells him, clutching his tunic in her fist. “I was frightened.” Y/N is making a show of it, surely. She does not need Aegon. She can’t.

“There, there, my love.” Aegon tuts, “I am so terribly sorry.”

“I fear something has happened to me.”

“How do you mean?”

“I have been here too long and I’ve changed.”

“That is what you were meant to do.” Aegon assures her. “This is where you’re meant to be, that’s all. Nothing to fear.”

Y/N forces herself to nod. Knowing now more than ever she must leave, before it’s too late.

————————————————————————

Her son, Jon, is the only one made privy to her plans. The younger children she will leave to Aegon. Despite it all, she’s come to care for him but she cannot stay.

“There is a ship leaving port tonight.” Y/N says, holding her son’s hand as she breaks the news. “I should like for us to be on it.”

“And father?” Jonathan asks.

Gods no…they have been here too long. “Just us. This will be our secret.”

He nods, though he doesn’t understand.

“Go now, enjoy your toys. I must ready for the journey.”

————————————————————————

It is nearly time, Y/N makes for her son’s rooms, with nothing more than the clothes on her back. She knows the guard’s schedule well…and Aegon’s. There will be plenty of time to board the ship.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” Aegon.

Her blood runs cold, turning to him with a forced smile, “to find you, my love.”

“Mmm,” he hums closing the distance between them. “Were you now?”

“The babe is restless,” Y/N takes his hand, resting it on her belly.

Aegon smiles, feeling the child stir beneath his palm, “missing their father, I’d wager.”

“Mayhaps.”

He leans in closer, until his lips brush her ear. “Imagine how terribly they’d miss me, had you gotten away with it.”

No, she shrinks away from him.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Aegon drapes both arms around her waist, holding her close, their child pressed between them. “It’s over. These fantasies you have of leaving me.” He spits the penultimate word like venom.

Y/N whimpers.

“It was our boy who warned me of your plotting. I have never been more proud. He will be rewarded handsomely.” Aegon muses, “I hope this helps you to understand, you can never leave.”

“What more do you want of me?” Y/N sobs, shifting between feet, in the small space between them.

“Everything.” Aegon takes her face between his hands.

“You have taken everything!”

“Your life should be miserable. One tragedy after another, until you learn that only my hand can spare you. But I do not wish to torture you to death.” He scoffs. “I want a life with you, why won’t you give me that?”

“You filled my head with lies. You seek to carve out all that I am, to make way for who you want me to be. Docile and subservient. If you truly love me, how could you?”

“That is the only way you’ll stay with me.” Aegon strokes his thumb over her tear stained cheek. “It is such a shame that I’ll have to break you all over again.”

Y/N shoves at him. “To the seven hells with you.”

His mouth traps hers, in a searing kiss. “There she is.” His tongue traces the seam of her lips, only to be met by her teeth. “My fiery girl.” He chuckles, “it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Aegon taglist:

@oh-you-mean-me @niyahnotnia

[maeumi-jng]

Can i request princess treatment from enhypen ❤️😭

princess charm school

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: in which enhypen are enrolled and on the honour list at princess charm school.

warnings: established relationship, endearments, swearing, cringe cringe, fluff, but i'm so soft for all of them 😭, proofread-ish

library: enhypen bookshelf

author's note: i'm not sure when by the princess treatment kinda got mixed in with dating headcannons. but still! hope this was to your likingggg ♡︎ thank you so much for requesting!

heeseung

there's two sides of princess treatment: the emotional part of it and the royalty part of it. heeseung takes great pleasure in putting extra effort in the latter. he's the extra mile type of guy when it comes to princess treatment.

he takes the royalty part so seriously. like that's his job. what else is supposed to do?

heeseung takes you out shopping, more than happy to sit down to watch you try on clothes. he really gets into it, choosing what clothes he thinks you'll look good in.

if he even catching an inkling that you're having somewhat of a bad day, best believe when you return home, a trail of fresh rose petals lie from your front door and lead you to the bathroom, where you find heeseung lighting some of your favourite candles.

you'd raise a brow, "hee, what's going the occasion? the petals, these candles... is that our record player... in the bathroom?"

heeseung would simply smile. "i thought you sounded sad over the phone so i ran you a bath," he said nonchalantly, shrugging as if this required no effort.

you'd also be leaving a dinner party of a close friend's. both of you and heeseung decided to call it a night but got mildly distracted when the thought of late night ice cream.

the closest ice cream store? a twenty minute walk away. an uber would've made it a mere seven minutes.

but you and heeseung were convinced it was more romantic to walk. so were you going to walk those twelve thousand seconds just to fulfil your craving? yes.

about ten minutes into your journey, you found your feet beginning to ache. you couldn't pinpoint the origin of the pain, possibly your new shoes that you haven't broken in yet or the fact you and heeseung danced for way too long.

heeseung, who was walking next to you, hand intertwined with yours, raised a brow when he felt your head slump on his shoulder. "what's wrong, baby?" he asked, mild concern spreading throughout his voice as you both came to a stop in the empty street.

"my feet hurt, hee. i think i'm getting a blister on the back of my ankle," you sighed, rotating your foot, wincing at the brush of your shoe against your pained skin.

heeseung pursed his lips, barely thinking for a second when he suddenly lifted you up.

a yelp left your lips. "heeseung! what are you doing?!" you shrieked, feet waddling in the air while his arms were tucked under your waist and knees.

"i'm carrying you to the ice cream store. can't have your feet hurting any more, can we?" he said with the most casual tone you had ever heard in your life.

"heeseung," you hissed out, cheeks burning in the dark. "let me down! this is so embarrassing!" you whispered, hitting his back lightly.

heeseung shook his head. "there's no one even here. now stop worrying and relax," he scolded you, laughing lightly at your reaction.

you quickly realised that any attempt of yours to get out of this was futile. sighing, you tried to calm your body despite your keen awareness of heeseung's warm arms holding you tightly to him.

you hung your hands around his neck, staring at his face quietly. heeseung turned slightly, taking a glance at you. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

you smiled, shaking your head in dismissal. you leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to his cheek. "thank you," you said with every ounce of earnestly you had, "i love you, hee."

heeseung smiled in response, thankful that night was so dark, disguising his flustered cheeks. "i love you, sweetheart. more than you'll ever know."

jongseong

the epitome of princess treatment. it's not just secondhand nature to jay. it's innate. genetic, if you will.

before you even began dating, jay was always giving you princess treatment. he's so attentive to everything you do.

before you realised he liked you, you were always catching jay's eyes as he gripped onto to every word that fell from those pretty lips of yours as if your word was his command (it most definitely is). whenever he was making a decision, jay would ask for your opinion, texting you with every passing second if he couldn't be in front of you.

princess treatment, when possible, should be healthy and balanced. but jay can't follow through. not when you're right in front of him.

there's a lot of talk about jay and his black card. not to make it a personality trait, for he is so much more, but when it comes to you, no expense is too big or too little. reminiscent of svt's woozi giving his black card for vernon to buy bubbles, jay would give be taking it out as if he was doing god's work by doing so.

oh you need your nails done? jay's got it.

hair appointment? done.

also, jay thinks 50/50 can go to hell. he is paying for the both of you and that's final. he won't even let you utter a syllable, telling the waiter in advance to take his card.

domestically, jay likes to spoil you by cooking for you, especially if you can't cook to save your life, doing the laundry, making you breakfast before you wake up, taking your chair out for you to sit even if it's just the two of you.

"jay... let me help you," you whined, sitting at the kitchen table and watching him prepare your picnic basket for your outing this morning.

jay hummed, finishing putting his freshly made fruit salad in a container. "you're already helping me, sweetheart. just looking at you makes me feel happy and at ease."

you slumped, pouting as you rested your cheeks on your arm. jay smiled in amusement, his heart doing small little flips. he leaned in across the table, placing a quick peck on your nose. "fine," he relented. "you can help me by taste testing the fruit salad."

you blinked blankly at him before breaking out into a small laugh. "i don't know, jay... that's a really difficult job you got there," you teased.

jay narrowed his eyes at your sarcasm. "keep it up and see how long you have this job for, babe."

you raised your hands in your defence. "whoa... take a chill pill, mister. you're in luck. i happen to be a certified taste tester."

"really?" jay humoured, hands resting on the table as he looked at you with raised brows. "certified by who?"

"the best, most handsome, sweetest, loveliest boyfriend ever?" you suggested, batting your eyelashes coyly.

jay couldn't even suppress the wide smile from breaking out. he nodded in amusement, reaching out to grab your hand. "okay, okay. come on, my certified lover. i do actually need you to taste it."

jaeyun

everything this man does revolves around you.

it's a historical fact.

look it up.

jake is pretty sure he lives for you... that he breathes for you. entirely wrapped up in the belief that you were made for him and he was made for you. in short, a simpleton if you've ever seen one.

his favourite things consist of helping you put your shoes on, especially when you're getting ready for something formal, kissing you at any given time, and constantly holding your hand.

you'll be going to put your shoes on and jake will quickly shove your hands away. "no let me." and as he does them, he'll leave small kisses on your knees or the side of your leg, just as a reminder that he loves you... like a lot.

you could also be in middle of talking to him and jake will suddenly interrupt you by kissing you. when you look at him with furrowed brows and flustered cheeks, he goes: "just because."

you're trying to kill someone... just because?????

jake is also a flower man. it's flower galore up in here. there doesn't need to be an occasion. he just likes giving you flowers. another just because.

you just closed the door to your car and you turned to jake to ask a question, but instead you're greeted with a bouquet of colours. "jake, what the– when did you get those?"

"before we met today. do you like them, baby? they're honeysuckles!"

the eager boba eyes peering at you while he pushes the bouquet towards make you fold an instant. you give him a warm smile, taking them from his hands. "i love them, jake. thank you so much."

later that day you go home and read what honeysuckles symbolise: everlasting love, true happiness, and sweetness and affection.

you smiled so hard that night that your cheeks were hurting the next day.

jake is also very dramatic. if you didn't know before, you know now.

you were both out for a morning walk after being cooped up in the house due to the harsh rain. it was a lot sunnier and brighter this morning, even if the paths were still stained with the rain, it screamed for a walk.

you and jake were both chitchatting, admiring the nature as you walked, when suddenly he brought out his hand over your waist, stopping you. "WAIT!"

now you're standing here baffled, eyes wide with confusion and slight fear because why the fuck is this man screaming so early in the morning? "holy shit– what? what happened, jake?"

jake's brown eyes averted to the path and then you. "there's a puddle."

hold up.

what?

you blinked blankly at him. an awkward laugh slipped past your mouth. "i– okay? and?"

jake sucked in a sharp breath, retracting his hand from your waist and instead holding it out to you. "give me your hand."

you raised a brow, slowly giving him your hand without thinking too much. you watched as jake leaped over the puddle and waited for you to carefully walk over it with your hand in his.

you gave him an incredulous look which only made him give you an impatient one in return. sighing, you stretched out your leg, just avoiding the puddle as jake pulled you into him.

jake wrapped his arms around your waist. "see? you're all dry. isn't that better?" he whispered, briefly kissing your forehead.

you found it difficult to bite back the smile eating away at you. you shook your head, laughing quietly to yourself. "you're a cheeseball, jake. you know that?"

jake grinned at your words, hands tightening around you. "your cheeseball, you mean."

you blinked, peering at him through your lashes. "yes," you agreed. "my cheeseball."

am i... delusional? 🤭🤧 (don't answer that!)

sunghoon

sunghoon's princess treatment is for you and only you. only you see it and only you get to experience it.

whenever, it's just the two of you, the side of sunghoon you see is almost unbelievable. alone in an elevator with all the space in the world, yet sunghoon can only cling to you, hand constantly around your waist. or when you're in the car, his hand rests on your leg because it's only secondhand nature.

sunghoon, however, does have his public moments. he always has an umbrella just in case and it's big enough for the both of you. but every time it suddenly starts to pour down and sunghoon opens the umbrella, he only puts it on you. he doesn't really care if he's soaked in rain one day and sick the next, as long as you're fine and dry, he's a happy guy.

to be honest, sunghoon isn't that talkative of a guy. but for you, if you can't say something or order something, he'll hundred percent do it for you. or if someone says something bad or upsetting, trust, sunghoon is going to be on their ass about it: ice cold glare and a whole lot of things to suddenly say.

sunghoon's favourite form of princess treatment, however, is helping you get ready in the morning. like honestly, you don't need it. you seem to have everything sorted. but sunghoon can't help it. the urge to help you is a need not a want.

you and sunghoon would both wake up, particularly unbothered by everything. after ten minutes of you staring at each other and smiling like idiots, you decide to get out and take a shower. by the time you finish, sunghoon is still lounging in bed, only coming out of the sheets when you were standing in front of your mirror in your selected clothes for the day.

as he does every morning, sunghoon would take off the towel wrapped around your head and put it aside. he'd comb your hair (under the insistence that it was better than brushing your hair), gently taking out any knots before helping you blow dry it.

amongst all of this, you're just smiling at sunghoon through the mirror. he doesn't really see you since he's so focused on helping you get ready.

to be honest, even though he has a younger sister, he didn't really learn anything from her when it came to hairstyles. but this cutie decided to spend his time trying out different hairstyles. he tried them on his sister and you, whenever he had the time. so every morning, sunghoon would ask you what you wanted and he'd be more than happy to serve.

if you thought it ended here... well, you're wrong.

makeup... whether you wanted to go all out or just put some lipbalm on, sunghoon would put himself in harms way just to do it. he loves everything about it. the intimacy, the proximity, your reaction, how pretty you look afterwards... everything.

needless to say, you love being sunghoon's princess.

seonwoo

listen... everyone and their mother knows about seonwoo's princess aka you.

why?

his personal instagram account was practically a fanstagram of you. seonwoo spent a lot of time, posting about you, you and him, and then you again.

for most of your time together, you expect it to be documented in some shape or form. seonwoo liked to take mirror selfies with you or post pictures of you on your dates together. even if your face wasn't in it, he liked to post it.

seonwoo's favourite, however? candid photos.

he can't verbally express how much he loves them. so seonwoo just posts a bunch instead. he's just in awe. because how do you look so pretty all the time? why do you make him suffer in such a sweetly evil way?

seonwoo also throws all of his skepticism and doubt away when he's with you. he will do anything for you and try anything. he always always lets you pick what to watch. he doesn't care what it is as long as you're happy.

another flower guy. but instead, he'd rather border on getting yelled at by a stranger for picking flowers from their garden rather than just going to a florist. seonwoo, by that point, decided to just pick up gardening as a hobby. it's not the cleanest hobby in the world which freaks him out time to time but it's totally worth it in the end when he sees your smile.

seonwoo also never ever ever lets you carry your own bag. he'll carry your for you or he'll put your stuff in his own bag. he doesn't want you to strain yourself, yk? 🤗

another guy who's a tad bit dramatic. if seonwoo's giving you princess treatment, he is going to be so fucking adamant about it.

for example, you're in the car. you and seonwoo both decided you wanted to go grocery shopping because you're cupboards and fridge were looking a bit empty.

upon arriving to the supermarket, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to open the door but seonwoo literally slapped your hand away from the handle.

"what the heck, seonwoo?!" you turned to him with the most baffled expression because seonwoo isn't there anymore. instead, he's fucking running outside of the car to get to your side and open the door for you.

seonwoo would beam down at you as he opened the door, lowkey out of breath from sprinting from one side to another.

you blinked blankly, a small smile creeping onto your face. "you're so whipped," you teased, moving your legs to get out the car,

seonwoo rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand as you got out of the car. closing the car door, he moved his hand, intertwining your fingers together. "you're the one smiling like a kid who woke up on their birthday," he retorted, his own smile teetering on his face.

you pressed your lips together while seonwoo gave you a pointed look, knowing he had caught you. you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked into the store. "we aren't getting mint chocolate ice cream," you casually said.

seonwoo gaped at you, eyes wide. "okay, okay. i take it back. i'm sorry. you were right," he conceded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he whispered, "i am so whipped."

jungwon

another epitome of princess treatment guy.

he just likes you so much... how can he not treat you so well?

if jungwon catches you staring at something you like for a while when you both shop together, he'll probably buy it for you when he uses going to the bathroom as an excuse to do so. he enjoys your reaction when you come home from the trip and finish washing up to find the item resting on your bed or dresser.

"what the? wonnie," you gasped, turning your head to the culprit. "how did you know?" you jutted your lip, eyes turning soft at the grinning boy.

jungwon walked towards you, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while his hands naturally found their place around your waist. his chin nestled into your collarbone while he spoke. "you looked like you wanted it, that all."

you were practically speechless. "b-but, that didn't you mean you had to buy it," you said, in complete awe of the kindness of jungwon's heart. you sighed, turning your head to bring him into a long kiss.

unknown fact but acts of service should be jungwon's middle name. if you had any trouble at all with anything, he'd do it for you. freshly done nails and dishes? he had them. the lid on your jam jar sealed a bit too tight?

got a sweet tooth at ten in the evening? jungwon would either take you out or do what he thinks is the best idea: bake you a fresh batch of whatever you wanted. you were the only reason he stocked up on so many ingredients. from brownies and cupcakes to ugly looking macaroons and meringues... anything for you.

another thing jungwon often did was the whole shoe thing. but with a slight change and an addition to go along with it.

you had both just attended a family wedding. you were all having a great time, dancing, chatting, taking pictures, devouring the wedding menu... but all this socialisation took energy and you're social battery was on the brink of dying out.

you were seated at your allocated table when jungwon brought you a glass of water and sat next to you. you gave him a small smile, taking a big gulp of the water.

jungwon raised a brow after eyeing your shoes next to your chair. "sucky shoes?" he guessed.

you sighed, resting your chin in your hand. "sucky shoes," you confirmed by repeating his words. "they're a pain my ass," you mumbled.

jungwon frowned at your misery, soon grabbing your feet to rest them on his lap, capturing your attention. "jungwon, what are you doing?"

"just relax," jungwon whispered softly, bringing his fingers to slowly rub soothing circles into your ankles and feet. you couldn't believe it. he was massaging your feet for you.

you pouted, eyes soft once again. "wonnie," you murmured, unable to follow up with anymore words.

he only smiled gently, continuing. "does that feel better?" jungwon queried after a couple of minutes. you wordlessly nodded, sporting the most thankful expression you could muster for your voice had failed you.

you mended your brows together when you watched jungwon take off his shoes and begin to put them onto your feet. "jungwon-ah, yah, what are you doing? we have to go back out soon." you asked, feeling panicked all of a sudden.

"it's okay," jungwon reassured, "you need shoes that don't suck. besides, i still have socks," he said, wiggling his foot.

your mouth fell open. how on earth did you get so lucky? "jungwon," you called out, making him hum in response as he just finished doing the last shoes. "marry me?" you asked softly.

jungwon blinked, a wide smile sprawling on to his face, dimples popping right out at you. "of course," he responded, "but give me some time and i'll ask you instead, hmm?"

you grinned at his words, nodding. for the rest of the evening, jungwon stood next to you, in his socks, more than happy. as the event came to a close and everyone began to leave, you'd walk out, still in his shoes, as jungwon tangled his fingers with yours, carrying your shoes in the other hand.

👑 -> jungwon 🤧

riki

riki is the definition of princess treatment in combination with young love. you don't know it because he's kind of embarrassed to tell you, but he's always keeping an eye out for you.

riki's already got the basic things covered: opening the door for you at all times, listening to your words with the greatest attention known to mankind, more than willing to hold all the clothes you gathered in the store, covering all the edges of objects so you didn't hurt yourself.

but then there were the moments that made your heart flutter to the point where the both of you had to consider whether you were malfunctioning or not.

you were both walking around town when he'd suddenly stop you. "what's wrong?" you asked.

but riki said nothing. instead he just bent down to the floor after moving in front of you and began tying your shoelaces.

"riki-ah," you chuckled, "you could've told me."

riki shrugged, tying a tight knot. "you should make tight knots," he told you.

"otherwise i'll trip, i know," you teased.

riki shook his head, standing back up, making you furrow your brows. "i can't have you falling for anyone else."

it was so stupid how riki could say the most heart-stopping things so casually. it was infuriating yet it made you flush with embarrassment instead.

but that moment had set in stone that riki always did your laces up when they came undone. something about making sure you were only falling for him.

another day, you were both eating at a cafe. you had ordered some new things to try and you were quite excited, stuffing your face with food. you were about to get riki to try yours when you spotted the frown on his face.

you swallowed your bite, turning your head to him. "riki? what happened? do you not like your food?"

riki remained quite, hand stretching out to pull your chair closer to him. your eyes widened at the sudden proximity. a smile settled down on his face. "that's better."

no because what the fuck? how on earth were you supposed survive this?

and then there was the time it was raining. like pure good rain. not a shower or some light little pelts. rain.

riki isn't as prepared as the others. an umbrella? newsflash! no one is carrying an umbrella all the time. but what riki did have was his cherished leather jacket.

so as the rain pelted down, drenching the both of you and the smell of the earthy hugged you dearly, riki took off of his jacket, raising his arms to cover your head as you both ran together, trying to reach some shade.

"riki!" you squealed, feeling the cold rain stick to your skin. "put it on yourself! you're going to get sick," you scolded.

riki laughed softly, running a hand through his wet hair. he peered down at you, holding the most gentle look in his brown eyes. "it's okay. i just don't want you to get sick."

you both slowed down your run to find any inch of shade. you stared at him while he continued to hold his jacket over your head.

"what?" riki queried, chest rising up and down as the rain continued to trickle down his body.

you stretched out your hands, hanging them around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. you reached up on the tips of your toe and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin melt against his warmth.

you pulled away while riki looked at you with an unreadable expression. you laughed gently. "nothing," you shrugged, hand reaching out to grab his hand. "now come on! we need to get out of the rain!"

riki blinked blankly, watching you take him with you. he thought his heart stopped.

riki thinks knows that he's entirely in love with you.

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!