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maeedrg · 3 days ago

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OUR LITTLE SECRET

University professors Gojo & Geto X Fem Reader

ᯓ★

Synopsis : in which reader is a 22 years old uni student that has a big fat crush on her professors, Gojo and Geto. After all, a lot of people on campus fawn over them. Why wouldn’t you too ? As a class president, you end up passing more and more time with them, the line in between professionalism and something more is slowly blurred. Are they flirting ? Or just being nice ?

Words count : 13.6 k

Warnings : age difference, the fic is problematic, smut, threesome, foreplay, reader is afab, reader drinks alcohol and smokes cigarettes, Satoru and Suguru are kinda mean, squirting, chocking, half public sex.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : Yeah, I don’t know why I wrote that… anyways, hope you guys still like it. It’s my first time writing about Geto too. English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes.

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One year and a half. One more fucking year and a half before you graduate college and your major. You were excited, maybe more than you should be. Well, the reason was not the one your family and friends expected. That was your little secret, one in between you and two other individuals. Cut to the chase, the big part of the reason was simple : once you would be free of the title of “student”, nothing else could hold you back in wooing your two teachers from whom you had the biggest fat crush ever.

How couldn’t you ? Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were the hottest teachers of your damn campus. Since day one, when you arrived here, some years ago, you couldn’t help but be like any other of their fangirls and fanboys : thirsting over them. Nothing more, nothing else. You expected nothing in return, they were your professors. Even though they weren’t really professors with no teacher diploma, -but specialists in their major coming to teach other people-, they were doing an amazing job at it. You could maybe fantasize a bit more than your other fellow classmates, when you got assigned as class president of your course with Gojo. You ended up talking more with him, relaying infos he would give you to the rest of the class, and even having small reunions with him to discuss topics about the course or other important things, like grades, exams, or problems in between students.

Gojo always had this carefree smirk plastered on his face, having this kind of atmosphere around him that made you feel like you weren’t talking to your professor, but to a friend or a classmate. After all, you were 22, and he was 28. Some people in your class were older than you, a few of them having the same age as your young professor. So the small age gap didn’t help in making you even more confused by the way he was addressing to you.

Geto, on the other hand, was less carefree than his best friend, having more seriousness as a teacher. Nonetheless, he had this sort of nonchalant aura, and you knew damn well, that aside from his calm and composed face, the black haired professor was slyer than you thought. Aside from your classes with him, you ended up being class president too in his course with another friend of yours. You had the golden duo in your hands, and that made some of your classmates jealous to see you spending more time than them with the hottest teacher on campus. Nothing serious, though. After all, you were just an invested student in their eyes, and they were you professors. Right ?

Well, here goes the reason why you couldn’t wait to graduate to woo them : in the past, you never predicted the growing interest they would have, and how the fine line in between professor and student got blurry through time.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You were walking in the big left wing corridor of the campus, holding some files in your hands that you had to bring to professor Geto. It was needed for your next class with him, that would start in 15 minutes more exactly. You walk confidently, saying hi to fellow friends in another major passing by. At the same time, you saw a crowd of people gathered in front of the door of a class. Curious, you raise an eyebrow and speed up, wondering what was happening.

Ah. Your curiosity stops immediately when you realize that it simply was Professor Gojo surrounded by students, trying to have a conversation with him. It’s not like it was difficult, the white haired man was very talkative, and it was well known that it annoyed another one of your professors named Nanami. Gojo had his usual cocky smile, black sunglasses sliding down his nose as he hums before answering the question of a student. Him being so tall, it was damn easy to spot him in this sea of people. You walk faster, but then his piercing blue eyes raise from behind his glasses, and meet yours no matter how many people are around. Not knowing what to do, nor wanting to disturb him, you just smile politely and look back to the files in your hands, continuing to walk.

“Y/n ! My favorite class president, I need your help,” a voice exclaims behind you, and before you can react, a strong arm slides around your shoulders bringing you closer to your teacher. You raise your head, not expecting for Professor Gojo to pop at your side when two seconds ago he was surrendered by people. How did he even manage to do that ?

“Professor ? I was about to bring these files to Professor Geto, so…,” you start to say, slightly flustered by the way he was holding your shoulders. Well, it was known by most students that Gojo didn’t really know anything about personal space, being a bit too friendly instead of keeping his professionalism. But that’s what made him so carefree, and appreciated by most students. Even if you were used to his behavior, starting your third year here and being at his classes, you couldn’t help but feel heat in your stomach each time he innocently touched you. No matter how quick and friendly it was.

“Geto ? Perfect, it was on my way, anyways,” he gives you this big smile, tilting his head on the side as he continues to walk by your side. You look behind you, and realize that most of the crowd disappeared, and some students were watching you with envy. You look back at him.

“Oh, alright,” you nod saying that, smelling the cologne of your professor filling your nose. God, he smelled sweet. You quickly look away, trying to hide your crush on him. It was near impossible sometimes, even more when he was acting like this with you. Did he notice anything ?

“You almost nailed the last math exam, I finished reading it,” he suddenly says as he munches on his minty chewing-gum, straightening back up and sliding his hands in his pockets instead.

“Almost ?” you ask, frowning your eyebrows. He gives you a glance, and nods, nudging you.

“Hmm, nothing bad. You just didn’t quite understand the last lesson with the new formulas. Maybe I should give you some quick tutoring next time you help me with classifying the course books, yeah ?” Gojo proposes, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

You think about it, and look in front of you to hide your reaction. You already had some teacher in the past helping you out when messing up something in class, taking extra time to explain it to you again. It wouldn’t be anything different with Professor Gojo, right ? You were just delusional to think the contrary.

“That would be nice, thank you. What was the thing you needed my help for, anyways ?” you ask as you approach the classroom of Geto’s course. Finally. Gojo stops in front of it, facing you and smiling.

“Nah, I lied. Just wanted to have an excuse to stop answering all the questions the first years were asking me. It got too personal, even though I like to talk about myself,” he blows his chewing-gum bubble while answering, tilting his head on the side, gazing at you.

“Oh- yeah, I get it,” you chuckle, a bit nervously. It was hard to stay focused because of the way his eyes were on you. It was intimidating.

“Thanks, y/n. See ya’ next class.” He waves, winking at you, and walks away. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down and cursing yourself for acting like a teenager that had a silly crush on their teacher.

You open the door with one hand, closing it behind you without looking inside. You have goosebumps at the coldness of the class, before turning around and realizing that the window was open. Professor Geto was nonchalantly smoking, a cigarette slipped in between his lips before his purple eyes met yours. You catch your breath in your throat.

“Oh, y/n, that’s you. You got the documents ? Thanks,” he approaches you and grabs the files. He eyes you down, his black hair half tied in a bun. Smoking wasn’t allowed inside the buildings, so it was quite shocking to see your teacher that is usually serious about the rules of the campus breaking them like that.

“You’re welcome,” you answer, unsure on how to react.

“That’s our little secret, don’t tell anyone that I’m smoking, it’s prohibited. I trust you, okay ?” he asks with a small lazy smile, the intensity of his gaze on you making you shyer than you thought. He steps back and goes to the window to finish his cigarette.

“Yeah, but I expect that if I break a rule and you catch me, you would keep it a secret too,” you coyly reply. You didn’t know where this cockiness came from, maybe because spending too much time with Gojo after his classes helping him out, resulted in you mimicking his behavior.

Geto stops in his track, and before answering he blows out his smoke through his nose, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m your teacher, I’m not supposed to let you freely break rules, you know ?” he retorts, staring right back at you as you still stand a bit awkwardly at the door.

“I know, but…”

“Alright, if I catch you smoking like I do, I wouldn’t scold you. But I still don’t want to see my supposed innocent student getting herself into that,” he continues, interrupting you as he inhales some smoke before finishing his cigarette and throwing it in the depth of the small trash next to his desk.

You swallow your saliva, shaking your hand at his words. You weren’t innocent, but the way he said it made it sound like he meant clearly something else.

“I already smoked before,” you retort. He smirks slightly before letting the window open to take off the lingering smell of cigarette and walk back to his desk.

“That’s too bad, don’t do it again, it’s not good for your health,” he answers as he takes the files and organizes them on his table, briefly looking at you and then back at the papers.

“Yet, professor, you do it too,” you state, sitting at a chair in front of one of the empty desks. After all, class would soon start. He smirks at your boldness, looking at you.

“Hmm, but it’s different. As your professor, I still have some sense of responsibility with my students. I wouldn’t want to let you smoke on my watch,” he answers, taping the wood of the table with his fingers. You look at it, and then back at his purple eyes.

“I wouldn’t, probably. But then, that’s a deal. I won’t tell that you were smoking inside the classroom,” you finish, biting the inside of your mouth as he looks at you doing so.

“Good, thanks y/n. I can always count on you.” His smiles stretch, and you couldn’t help but fluster a bit at how pretty and charming he looked. Not long after, class started.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

This afternoon you were helping out your teacher grabbing some needed books in the library for his next class. Gojo was way taller than you, allowing him to reach the highest shelves. In the quietness of the library, barely any students present, you look around searching for one specific book in the left aisle. As you go on your tiptoes to grab it, you feel the presence of someone behind you, and a palm landing on your shoulder.

“Let me do it for ya,” whispers your teacher, winking at you behind his glasses and lifting his arm to grab what you were looking for. As he does so, his muscles move, making his chest brush against your back. You suck up a breath, and raise your head to look at his cheeky grin.

“Here you go,” he says, giving it to you and you take it in your hand.

“Thanks,” you breathe out, feeling heat all over your face and your heart hammering in your rib cage. When meeting his eyes, you can’t help but feel intimidated, even more by this proximity.

“Only three more to go, and we are all done, y/n,” He winks at you, shaking the paper with the list on it in front of your face. The way he rolls down your name on his tongue and his hand still on your shoulder makes you look away from his gaze.

“That will be quick,” you answer and he hums, and then softly pushes you towards the next aisle and bookshelves, his hand still on you.

“All thanks to you. You do your job well,” he compliments you as you try to search for the next needed book, eyes scanning around.

“That’s normal, I’m not the class president for nothing,” you confirm, smiling slightly at his praise. He backs down and goes back to searching for the next books.

“Yeah, but in the past, when I was a student too, I was the worst class president they could have. Yet, my classmates voted for me. I’m just comparing myself to you,” he explains, a small smile on his face as he remembers his past as a college student. It wasn’t too long ago, Gojo was barely 28 after all.

You look at him surprised, trying to imagine your teacher as a student, and you couldn’t help but wonder that if he was the same age as you and a college student, would you be his friend ? Or maybe more… You shake your head, that was stupid to think so.

“No way, really ?”

“Yeah, even if I had good grades, it annoyed me to death to do all these boring tasks, so it impresses me to see a student like you being so serious about it and doing it perfectly. I gotta’ admire you for that, if I’m being honest, y/n,” he admits, looking at you up and down in quite a long way, his gaze lingering. You feel giddy at the compliment.

“Now that you say it, professor, it’s hard to imagine the contrary,” you chuckle slightly.

“I was a troublemaker with Suguru, uh- I mean professor Geto,” he adds as he grabs one of the books you needed, and you pause in your search to look at him, even more surprised.

“Troublemakers ? I didn’t expect professor Geto to be a troublemaker, he seems so…”

“Calm ? Yeah, don’t get fooled by that. And yes, we do almost everything together, get in trouble together, and share quite anything together. You see ?” he cuts you off, completing your sentence. But the way he said the word share made you shiver slightly, feeling his eyes on you.

“That’s funny to know, to be honest,” you whisper and smile to yourself, finally finding the last book you needed to check on the list.

Lost in thoughts, you try to imagine Gojo and Geto causing trouble. Not gonna lie, it made them look hotter in your head, forcing yourself to not bite your lip mindlessly. You tried to visualize Geto as a troublemaker, and remember how he was smoking inside the classroom last time. It wasn’t too hard to imagine, after that. Now you knew that you had more material to fantasize about your attractive teachers… But as you continue to think, you don’t realize that one of the high books stumbles and falls right towards your head. Before it could hit you, Gojo grabs it swiftly, and wraps his arm around your waist to make you step back. Your body hits his chest, and you look at him eyes wide open.

“Be careful, y/n. Wouldn’t want ya to get hurt on my watch,” he chuckles, his chest rumbling against you. You could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes, and that made you even more nervous in his presence. His breath slightly hits your nape, making you shiver.

“I’m sorry, thank you, ahah,” you awkwardly answer, not knowing how to react. One more second passes, before he steps back and lets you breathe again.

“We got all the books, how about I give you the tutoring like I proposed last day ?” he asks, winking at you, holding now more than a half of the manuals you went to search in the library.

“If that doesn’t bother you, yes,” you try to gain back your composure, stopping your thoughts from imagining more things.

“Why would it ? I still have time to kill. Anyways, perfect, let’s go !” he muses as he puts his free hand on your back to push you towards the exit.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

It’s been 15 minutes since you were sitting in the empty classroom of Gojo, receiving his tutoring and corrections about your last exam. It was helping you greatly, him being nonetheless a very good teacher no matter how unserious and silly he could act in general. His advices were just right, and he could easily pinpoint your weaknesses in a topic to help you through it and improve. When it was about working hard in his class, he wasn’t lenient. Yet, the way he was helping you out, made you feel like it was favoritism. Was it right for the other students, wasn’t it slightly unfair ?

You don’t have time to ponder more when the door opens, and closes right after the person enters. You raise your head, only to see professor Geto entering the class with a cup of coffee in his hand, and some soda in his other. He looks surprised to see you here, walking towards the both of you.

“Am I interrupting something ?” he asks as he gives the soda can to your white haired teacher that grabs it smiling, stretching his body, making his shirt ride up slightly and showing some of his skin.

“Nah, was just tutoring miss y/n right here,” he answers, giving you a glance, sipping on his soda. Meanwhile, Geto does too on his coffee, and walks behind you to look at the math formula you were writing down on paper.

“Hmm, too bad. If I knew, I would have brought you something too, y/n,” answers the black haired one, his purple eyes meeting yours as he gives you this lazy smile that always made you have butterflies in your stomach.

“Ah, no, it’s alright professor ! No need to, thank you though,” you shake your head, chuckling a bit shy by his act of kindness. Fuck, why were you loosing all your personality whenever you were in their presence ? Was it your nervosity ? Probably, and that pissed you off.

“Come on y/n, you’ve been working hard. You need some reward,” insists Gojo, tapping his pencil against your exercises written on your notebook, referring to it. His blue eyes bore into you, and his smirk widens as he slides his glasses on top of his head.

“I don’t want you to spend money on me, that would feel wrong,” you retort, and Geto chuckles before taking a chair and dragging it next to the table, sitting on it lazily, legs parted.

“It’s alright. You can take a sip of my coffee if you prefer,” proposes your professor, tilting his head to the side to emphasize his question, showing with his chin the drink in his hand. You look at it, not knowing what to answer.

“Or my soda,” coos Gojo, crossing his arms on his chest and looking at you choosing.

Gojo was already helping you out with your difficulties from the last lesson, so you preferred to hold a favor to Geto by sipping on his drink. You didn’t even know why you accepted, taking the coffee in your hands. What kind of teacher proposes that to their students ? You didn’t know, and you were too nervous to actually think straight.

“Thanks,” you mutter before bringing the cup to your lips under the burning gaze of Geto, and gulp down some coffee. You thought you saw him looking at your lips doing so, did you imagine it ? You didn’t even like coffee that much, but you still did it. It was bitter, and you did a small grimace. It makes the black haired one smirks more by watching you suffer slightly. Gojo chuckles.

“You should have drunk my soda,” he hums, and you couldn’t agree more, but kept it for yourself.

“It’s alright, it didn’t taste that… bad,” you try to answer, even though the taste was still lingering on your tongue.

“It’s not for everyone, yeah,” he adds, taking back the drink, his fingers slightly touching yours.

“You don’t mind taking a small break, y/n ?” asks Gojo as he closes back the manual, suddenly putting his legs on the table without a care in the world, crossing his arms behind his head and looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t, I started to be a bit tired anyways,” you answer, looking at the long legs of your teacher in his carefree attitude.

“Hey, don’t be a douchebag and act like that in front of our student,” complains Geto, glaring slightly at your other professor. Gojo rolls his eyes, looking back at you by turning his head towards you.

“She doesn’t mind, it’s just us right now. Right, y/n ?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and his blue eyes holding your gaze. You swallow your saliva, and smile a bit nervously.

“No, it’s refreshing.” That’s what you answered. After all, it was true. Seeing your teacher act like that made him look more… human, rather than just your professor.

“Then if you don’t, I'll smoke a bit,” answers Geto as he glances at you before standing up, and walks towards the window to open it.

“Make sure no other student can come in then, Suguru,” answers Gojo casually by calling him by his first name, taking out his phone and scrolling on it. After all, they were friends. Yet, it felt strangely intimate to see them drop the act in front of you and be suddenly so casual. At the same time Suguru closes the door, locking it in a soft click. He grabs a cigarette from his pocket, and a lighter, before putting it in between his lips, walking back to the window.

“I count on you again, y/n,” he says as the flame shines on his face, lightening the cigarette. Then, you see smoke creating around his mouth and the end of the cigarette, before being blown away in the wind. You nod, answering a “no problem”.

“No way ! Don’t tell me you make her keep the secret, Sugu’. You’re sneaky,” laughs Gojo, lifting his head to look at his best friend who rolls his eyes.

“She knows how to keep secrets, hmm ?” answers Geto, holding your gaze as he blows away the smoke.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I do. I mean, it’s just smoking... I don’t care,” you answer, shaking your head.

“Oh yeah ? That’s good to know, then,” muses Gojo, putting down his phone as he balances himself on the chair, you were scared that he would fall. He sips on his soda, licking his lips.

“I’m not a snitch,” you add, looking back at your notebook and then closing it.

“I’m curious about something, y/n. It’s not work related. Can I ask ?” suddenly asks Gojo, sitting straight back on the chair and turning to face you, crossing his leg over the left one.

“Of course,” you nod and look back at him.

“Do you have a boyfriend ?” You open your eyes wider, and if you had water in your mouth you would have spilled it. You gulp, letting out a shaky breath, not expecting this question at all.

“Satoru, you’re making her shy,” chuckles Suguru from behind, tapping some of the ashes of the cigarette over the window before inhaling the smoke again

“Is it making you shy ?” he questions again, unable to hide his cheeky smile to form on his pink lips. Was he flirting with you ? No, impossible. Why would the hottest teacher on campus be interested in you ? You persisted in the thought that you were delusional, and tapped the table with your nails to try to stay grounded.

“No, it doesn’t. Why ? Does it have to do with something about classes ? Or work related ?” you interrogate, unsure of the reason behind this question. At the same time, you felt the gaze of Gojo scanning you, humming to himself before his eyes are on your face again and he smiles at you innocently.

“No reason. Just wondering.” He shrugs, glancing at Suguru behind him who was still smoking, looking at the scene unfold before him with interest.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, nor girlfriend,” you end up answering.

“Ah, is that so ?” He smirks.

You nod, flustered, and not knowing what to answer. Was it alright if a teacher asked you such a thing ? Probably not. But fuck, coming from the two men that you had the biggest crush on since your first year in this university, it made you not give a single care.

“Satoru, look at her, you are making our poor student uncomfortable,” continues the voice of Suguru as he walks towards you once he finished his cigarette. It sounded slightly nagging, and like a mockery to yourself. He stands right behind your chair now.

“What ? ‘M just asking. Can’t I like some gossip ?” he justifies himself.

“Then if I answered, it’s only right if I know both of your answers too,” you mutter louder than you wanted. Yeah, that was the biggest opportunity you could have right now to know more about the hottest teacher on campus. You wanted to know so bad, for years now. There were rumors for a long time, that either they were single, or secretly dating, or having hundreds of hookups. None of it could be confirmed, since Geto and Gojo always made sure to hide their personal life well. So, yes, it was your chance right now.

“Awww, she got us, Suguru,” snickers the white haired one.

“Are you curious, y/n ?” continues Geto. They both stare intently at you.

“I’m not going to lie, yes,” you admit, nodding. You could feel some tension in the air. Maybe you were crossing a line by asking that, but Gojo was the first one to, so it would only be fair. Right ?

“I like your honesty,” purrs Suguru, putting his hand on the back of your chair, towering over you. You could smell his cologne mixed with the scent of cigarettes.

“As a reward for telling us, maybe we should answer too. Don’t you think, Sugu’ ?” They stare at each other, and you could swear it felt like they were communicating telepathically right now, exchanging unspoken words.

“Why not,” ends up answering Geto, shrugging. You anticipate their answer. What if they were dating someone ? It’s not like you had a chance, whatever, but you still hoped the contrary.

“Nah, we aren’t dating anyone, we just like having…” starts to say Satoru.

“Fun,” finishes Suguru.

Oh. The way they said “fun” made a pool of heat create in your lower abdomen. So they were single, and probably hooking up with people ? You bite the inside of your cheek, imagining them having their so-called fun. It was hard to not have any lewd thoughts about your professors now.

“I see…” you answer, nodding. What else could you say aside from that, seriously ?

“You’re not embarrassed, right ?” questions Suguru.

“Uh- no, no,” you half lie.

“We trust you to keep it a secret, y/n, yeah ? We wouldn’t want students to go around starting more rumors,” adds Satoru, his blue eyes fixated on your facial reaction.

“Of course,” you immediately answer, nodding firmly. Well, you still would say it to your best friend that was in another university, but that didn’t count, you thought.

“We already had a bunch of students asking to have sex with us because of rumors 3 years ago. That was troublesome to handle. We wouldn’t want it to happen again, you understand, right ?” continues Suguru, looking at you from above, giving you his unreadable smile. You gulp.

“Y-yeah, I get it. No worries,” you confirm slightly tense.

“I told you that she could keep secrets, Satoru,” he says looking at his best friend with a smirk.

“We’ll see,” he grins too, his eyes not leaving you.

“Alright, I’ll let you go back to your tutoring. See you tomorrow, and see you too next class, y/n,” Geto ends up announcing, putting his hand on your shoulder to emphasize his goodbye, making you shudder slightly at the contact before he steps back.

“See ya !” Waves cheerfully Satoru, sipping on his soda as your black haired professor walks away and unlocks the door before opening it, and gives one last glance as he steps out.

Shortly after, you went back to your lesson, still disturbed by what happened. You couldn’t stop thinking about how they acted and what they said.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You just finished class, and these past days you’ve been stressed as ever. In between trying to keep up with classes, and in between the way you were on your toes everytime professor Gojo or Geto spent “innocent” time with you, them addressing you more like a friend rather than a student, you were damn tired. After all, you couldn’t help but wonder if these interactions with them through the weeks were just you being delusional, or if something was really going on.

You sigh, closing your jacket and stepping outside of the building. With all this stress burning you up, you just wanted to smoke, or maybe you secretly hoped to cross by professor Geto. Even if it was your little secret in between you and him that he was smoking inside his classroom, you nonetheless saw him at the smoking area during the quiet hours of the day when nobody else was around.

In this cold weather, you put your hands in the pockets of your coat to warm your poor frozen fingers, and walk towards the area. Great, he wasn’t there. You sigh, a bit disappointed, but still take out the cigarette from the pack and slide it in between your lips. You then search your lighter, but quickly frown when you realize that you didn’t find it, nor in your pockets, nor in your bag. You groan, but then suddenly a flame appears in front of your eyes and lights your cigarette. You open your eyes wider, only to meet the purple ones of Geto. Surprised, you fluster, and could feel your face heating up.

“Professor ? Thank you,” you murmur, inhaling the smoke and blowing it away, looking at his nonchalant gaze on you.

“Smoking ? That’s bad, y/n, but I promised to not scold you,” he says as he looks at the way the cigarette consumes itself, and how the smoke lingers in the air. He keeps his hands in his pockets, stepping back to let you some personal space, unlike Gojo.

“That’s right, and you are here too to smoke, right ?” you answer logically, that was the smoking area after all, so nothing surprising for him to be here.

“Hmmm. ‘Saw you smoking, I thought why not join you. It’s the first time I see you doing that,” he explains, leaning against the wall behind him, turning his head towards you. You spin around to face Geto, and he already has a cigarette in between his lips too.

You nod, slightly nervous to be left alone with him with nothing else to do. Usually you can occupy yourself with helping him with some documents, or things related to class. But not right now, and it was the worst moment to have your head empty of any discussion ideas. Fuck, it pisses you off.

“No need to be so uptight, you’re not in class right now,” he chuckles softly, trying to light his cigarette, but because of the wind, it’s near impossible.

“I’m just not used to it,” you whisper as you look at the flame struggling to work. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and then you approach him.

“Wait, let me help, I’ll just-” you whisper, and then press the end of your cigarette against the end of his, helping him to lighten it as he inhales. Some sparks make it work, and it’s only then that you realize how close you are to his face, and his eyes are on you all the time. His dark lashes are longer than you thought, and his pupils expand in the purple of his irises. You directly step back, embarrassed.

“Thanks, y/n,” he grins, blowing away the smoke out of his mouth. You simply nod and continue to inhale to smoke against the wall next to him, your arm brushing his. You don’t know what have gotten into you when doing that, but damn, that was sexy as fuck. Why did he have to be your university teacher ? !

“Satoru is not too annoying with you, right ? Sometimes he acts too friendly, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable just because he can’t mind his own business,” he starts to say, tilting his head to the side to look at you, and you see how his adam apple moves as he talks.

“Satoru ? Oh, yeah, professor Gojo. No, it’s alright, I’m getting used to it,” you smile slightly. It’s true that since he asked you if you had a boyfriend out of the blue some weeks ago, the more time you both passed together aside from classes, the more he asked you things, and the line in between student and teacher became blurry by the way he was acting with you.

“What did he ask you last time ?”

“If I had a crush on someone on campus, I think he wanted to act like a matchmaker,” you chuckle a bit, remembering the question, not thinking much of it. Suguru hums, silently inhaling on the cigarette, looking at the building some meters away.

“What did you answer, then ?” he asks, gazing at you with an unreadable face. Surprised by his curiosity, you at first don’t answer.

“Uh, I said no… I mean, I’m 22, it’s not like having silly crushes when you are a teenager,” you try to justify yourself, nervous to answer when the two people you had a crush on were the both of them. That was your secret. And they couldn’t know.

“Hmm, is that so ? And why is that ? Don’t you find any of the students here attractive ?” he looks suspicious, but the way the corner of his lips move, it shows he is kinda mocking you, secretly mocking you. Did he know your real answer ? No, he can’t… More like, you hope so.

“Not the students, no,” you shake your head and concentrate on finishing your cig, trying to sound natural, the best you could. But his burning gaze made you feel like being in the spotlight, and that he could know if you were lying or not.

“Teachers, then ?” he suddenly questions, smashing the end of his cigarette on the public ashtray, stepping back in front of you and digging his hands in his pockets.

“Uh, ahah. Even if I did, that wouldn’t be very appropriate, right ?” you scoff, trying to hide how nervous you were at his question, fingers slightly shaking, because of the cold, or the stress.

You were sure that you heard a “what a shame” coming out of his mouth, but, were you really sure ? He smiles, and spins around, waving lazily at you.

“See you next class, y/n, work well on your homework,” he simply announces, walking away and leaving you alone in the smoking area with your unfinished cigarette. You look down at it, and half of it was the ashes ready to fall on the ground. You forgot to smoke it during a good part of the conversation… Damn, he really knew how to make you falter with just some words.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Friday night, after a long week of work, you decided to go out with your friends before your club trip. Indeed, next week, you will be busy organizing with your university club the 2 nights trip in the mountains, thanks to the savings the club made this past months. And surprise : the two teachers that will accompany you there, would be Gojo and Geto. Obviously. It’s like the universe was toying with you, and just thinking about it made you nervous and excited at the same time.

After going out, it started to be late and your friends were tired, saying goodbye to you. You sigh, for you it was too early to go back home, so you decided to at least go drink something by yourself before heading back to your place. You spot your favorite bar, one you were acquainted with, and open the door, stepping inside and leaving the coldness of the street. As you do so, you spot for an empty sit at the desk, and sit on it. You look at the list, wondering what you will drink tonight, when the door of the bar opens again. You turn your head, and gasp when your eyes meet Gojo and Geto, entering it. Your eyes met, and you felt like you were hallucinating. Surprise passes on their face, and then there is a big smile on the face of the white haired one.

“No way ! Y/n, what’s up ? What are you doing here all alone ?” he exclaims, walking towards you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder cheerfully, not believing his eyes.

“Satoru, she is just like us, here to take a drink. It’s a common bar here,” answers Geto, nudging his friend.

“Good evening y/n,” Geto grins at you, standing next to you and then taking off the arm of Satoru around your shoulder, meanwhile he rolls his eyes.

“Oh my- I didn’t expect to see the both of you here, I often come and I never saw you in this bar,” you comment, turning around to face them better in the dim light of the bar. They were in more casual clothes. The hair of Geto is kept down, framing his face and falling on his shoulders. Gojo doesn’t even wear his sunglasses like he used to, letting his blue eyes to your seeing. Looking at them dressing like that, you just wanted to drool at how hot they looked. That was unfair. So unfair.

“I saw on their website that they had very good non alcohol cocktails, I wanted to try it,” explains Gojo as he grabs the card menu, and reads it while licking his lips.

“Are you here with friends ?” asks Suguru, looking at you instead.

“No, they left earlier,” you shake your head answering them.

“You care if we join you, then ?” Gojo smiles, his blue eyes on your face now, staring at your expression.

“Not at all,” you answered quite quickly, and you sounded almost eager. Suguru chuckles, and they both sit next to you on each of your sides. You look left and right, feeling small in between them. You weren’t going to lie, having a drink with them was like a dream coming true.

“Did you order already, y/n ?” questions Suguru, looking at the menu, and humming softly as he thinks about what to take.

“Not yet.”

“Perfect ! Then take anything you want, it’s on us,” exclaims Gojo, winking at you to emphasize what he just proposed. You open slightly your mouth, surprised and touched

“Oh, it’s alright professor, I can-”

“Nuh-uh. We’ll pay, take it as a thank you for all your hard work as a class president,” muses Gojo, leaning his chin on his hand and narrowing his eyes while staring at you. You gulp, and smile a bit dumbly in return.

“Alright, thank you then professor Go-”

“Please, we are in between us, call us by our names,” he stops you mid-sentence, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, we are outside of classes right now. Don’t bother with the formalities, y/n,” adds Geto, and you turn your head to look at him on your right.

“Right… then thank you, Satoru. And thank you, Suguru,” you end up saying, their names feeling weird and new on your tongue. You were flustered to even pronounce these syllables. Their smiles grow wider at your words, and suddenly their presence felt overwhelming, having them so close, able to smell their sweet cologne filling your nose, and the way they looked at you.

“Good,” whispers Satoru.

You all order your drinks, and you sip on the usual cocktail you take when being there. Minutes pass, and the alcohol in your blood makes it easier to freely talk to Satoru and Suguru, breaking the barrier between professor and student. The conversation goes on, and they both know exactly how to make you talk. It just sounded so easy, very easy.

“You don’t take any alcohol, Satoru ?” you ask, finishing your cocktail.

“Nah, I don’t like the taste of it. And I prefer to have a clear head,” he explains.

“Just admit that you are a lightweight, yeah ?” teases Suguru, gulping down half of the end of his beer and putting it down on the counter, smirking.

“I never thought you would be a lightweight !” you laugh, imagining the white haired one unable to keep his mind straight with just one shot of vodka, for example. He pouts, and rolls his eyes.

“Hey, don’t go on and expose my secret, Suguru ! Poor y/n right here, she shouldn’t know that her favorite teacher is like that,” he dramatically retorts, sliding his arm around your shoulder and bringing you even closer, shaking his head.

“What, afraid she’ll start a rumor ?”

“I wouldn’t,” you quickly answer.

“That’s true, Suguru. She did an amazing job at keeping many secrets, like the one that we are single and just like having fun. Right, y/n ?” He grins, his eyes lowering down to look at your face that gets warmer by the blood rushing in it.

“Yeah… that’s no one of my business, after all,” you whisper. Right, you wished that was some of your business. You thought that you could keep dreaming.

“Hmm, we just are consenting adults living our life without causing any harm. Like anybody else, I’m sure even y/n right here has her part of secrets,” adds Suguru, crossing his arms over his chest, his finger lightly tapping against his bicep as his purple eyes scan you.

Oh, that was a rough topic. Both because you felt a bit uncomfortable talking about it with them, second because you were embarrassed : it’s been years since you had “fun”, like they called it. And that was quite frustrating.

“Hey, now it’s you making her uncomfortable, Suguru. Look at her,” he feigns concern saying that, but it felt more like he was having fun. It kinda pissed you off, as if they were treating you like some innocent dumb doll. You weren’t, it felt like mockery coming from their mouths, even though you had no single proof that it indeed was.

“Aw, my bad, y/n. No need to answer,” Suguru answers, raising his eyebrows while taking another sip of his beer.

“No, it’s alright. It’s been a long time since I dated anyone, anyways,” you end up admitting.

“No way, a pretty woman like you ?” Replies Satoru, arm still around your shoulder and eying you up and down.

“What a shame,” continues Suguru.

Are they flirting with you ? Unbelievable, they were just being nice, nothing more, nothing else. Why would they in the first place, anyways ?

“Well, thank you. But no, nobody interested me, and with uni’ it’s hard to find time,” you explain.

“I mean, we are busy too, and Suguru still finds the time to go have fun, for example,” chuckles Gojo, licking his lips after taking a gulp of his cocktail.

“Satoru, would you want me to talk about your fun too, uh ?” retorts the black haired one, giving a small glare to his friend as a silent warning.

“Hey, that would be inappropriate for y/n to know that.” He shakes his head and looks at you from the corner of his eyes, his smile bigger now.

“And it’s you saying that ? Seriously ?”

“Relax, we’re just having a chat. Nothing scandalous happening here. Awww, anyways. Back to the topic : you,” Satoru suddenly talks back to you, his eyes right on yours now.

“Uh, no no. Nothing of that. No… fun either,” you answer as you put down your cocktail.

“Hmmm, I see. What a bummer,” he hums.

“Well, this type of life is not for everyone,” responds Suguru, leaning his head on the back and looking at the ceiling before gazing back at you.

“Maybe.” You didn’t know what to answer else, because you wanted to have this fun with them ! But, that only was in your dreams, the craziest and juiciest ones.

After this, an hour passed where you continued to drink in their company. They, as they said, paid for your consummations. As you walk out of the bar, the cold hitting you like a truck, you look around while they follow you after you.

“Need someone to accompany you home, y/n ?” asks Suguru, his hands in his pockets.

“No need to bother, I’m… fine,” you answer, smiling at him.

“Yeah, right. And let you walk alone being drunk ? No way,” retorts Satoru, his hand on your back as he steps up.

“He’s right, y/n. Unless you prefer that we call you an uber, hmm ?” adds Suguru, standing in front of you as he raises his left eyebrow.

“What ? No, you both already paid for my cocktails, that would be unfair-”

“Then at least one of us will walk you home, it isn't safe at all. Deal,” stats the white haired one, winking at you.

You couldn’t argue more, and you were too tired to, anyways. You ended up getting walked back home by both of your teachers, and that was quite a strange situation. You were sure that if the people of the campus heard about it, they would go crazy. You bite your lower lip, giggling in your head at the idea. Once you are in front of the door of your apartment building, safe and sound, they wave you goodbye.

“See you on monday, y/n,” Satoru purrs, sliding his arm around the shoulder of Suguru as they turn around, giving you his signature smile.

“Take care,” finishes Suguru softly, before walking off.

You look at them doing so, your heart hammering in your chest, heat burning up your cheeks. Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep your calm around them, now.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

After a whole week of preparation, taking the train, you finally arrived at the camp that was supposed to host your club, you, and your teachers. The activities were mostly to have fun and have a break from work, like a reward for passing mid exams of the year. You got in your room with other female students, after checking them with Gojo and Geto, being sure everything was alright.

You all started by doing some hiking, nothing too hard, obviously. You all had packed lunch, taking the opportunity to look at the amazing landscape of the mountains. You stayed behind, to make sure nobody would get lost, in the company of Gojo and Geto. You started to get tired, letting the two of them keep up their conversation by themselves. They weren’t exhausted at all, unlike everyone else. How could that be humanly possible ? You were out of breath, and they kept glancing at you at the corner of their eyes.

“Maybe we should take a break, y/n, you look like you are about to faint here,” jokes Satoru, patting softly your back as a way to cheer you up.

“No, we will soon arrive at the lunch spot. I can hold on for 10 more minutes,” you shake your head, taking a deep breath and grabbing a trunk to help you climb the small rocks on the side. But then two hands slide under your arms, and lift you up easily until the top of the rocks, as if you weighed nothing.

“Here you go, you should ask for help if needed,” winks at you Suguru, being the one that helped you out. You look away, flustered to be so close to him, before he steps on the side to let you walk by yourself. The palm of Gojo is now on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall.

“Thank you,” you inhale while saying that.

“You’re kinda weak, y/n. But don’t worry, we’re here to catch you before falling.” Satoru grins saying that, looking at your figure struggling to keep the pace.

“Yeah, right-” you start sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but at the same time your foot slips on the ground and you gasp as you lose balance. You fall backwards, yet, your back hits two strong chests behind you, and long arms wrap around your waist securely. You quickly realize that your two professors caught you on time.

“Told you,” murmurs Satoru cockily, his grin becoming a cheeky smirk.

“Be careful,” continues Suguru, and they push you back up on your feet. You thank them, embarrassed, and now stay closer in case something happens.

Some minutes later you all arrive at the secluded place for lunch. It was beautiful, a big panoramic view by being on the mountain felt like you were touching the sky and that the villages around were as small as ants. You help other classmates while Gojo and Geto are busy distributing the food in case people forgot to pack lunch. Students fawn over them, and keep asking if they could eat with them. They agree. You feel the gaze of Gojo on your back, but you look away and decide to sit down with your group of friends to instead eat with them. It would be suspicious if you stayed all the time with them, and you still wanted to spend some time with your own friends.

You eat your sandwich peacefully, unable to keep your mind on track, always lost in thoughts daydreaming about the black and white haired men. You were wondering if something else would happen during this trip. You hoped so. Your friends had to snap you back of your reverie quite often, laughing.

Later, when you all were back to the camp, everyone rushed to the hot baths. It was a chance that they were available for you, but you had to wait a bit before being able to go relax, since you had to do the checkups of the furnitures with your teachers.

“Y/n, can you check if everything is here ?” asks Suguru, holding a list of paper in front of your eyes. You nod, and walk inside the reception of the building and count if all the bags were there.

“You okay here ? My poor y/n, I’m sure you wanna go to the baths to relax, am I right ?” purrs Satoru behind you, crossing his arms over his chest. You lift your head to look at him.

“I’m good, at least I will be alone in the baths, nobody to annoy me.” You shrug, and then Satoru bends down and grabs a bag of marshmallows as he hums at your answer.

“What do you think about marshmallows to eat at the bonfire tomorrow night ? Suguru said that you all weren’t kids anymore, and that maybe they wouldn’t want to,” he complains, a pout forming on his lips as he looks at the sweet treats.

“No, I think that’s a good idea to do on the last night here. I mean, I’ll personally gladly enjoy it,” you answer with a smile, crossing your hands behind your back. Satoru grins.

“Oh yeah ? Perfect then. You really are always here to help us out, y/n. I should offer you more private tutoring as a thank you, don’t you think ?”

“Professor, it’s-”

“Satoru. When we are alone you can call me by my name, like at the bar,” he cuts you before letting you continue, stepping closer as he opens the bag of sweets and he plops one in his mouth.

“Satoru, then. I was saying that having extra tutoring wouldn’t be very fair for the other students that struggle in your class. Isn’t it favoritism ?” you repeat.

“Life’s not fair, y/n. Call it what you want, favoritism or not. You should take the opportunity, don’t you think ?” He retorts swiftly, tilting his head to the side, looking at you through his sunglasses. You swallow your saliva, batting your lashes one second to let you have the time to think properly.

“Well..”

“Think about it,” he cuts you off, putting his hand on your shoulder. You simply nod, gazing at his long fingers, and at the same time Suguru arrives. You turn around to face him.

“Am I interrupting something ?” he asks, eying you down, the corner of his lips lifting in a small smirk and raising his eyebrows.

“We were just talking about me tutoring her, no harm in that, right ?” Satoru replies coolly, and Suguru stares back at him with an equally steady gaze, his eyes flickering over to your for a moment.

“No.”

“Is there something you wanted ?” the white haired one asks, stepping back and eating another marshmallow.

“Yeah. Y/n, did you finish checking the bags ?” he turns around to face you, hands in his pocket nonchalantly as he approaches you.

“Yes, everything is in order,” you nod, answering.

“Good, well then you are free to go to the hot baths if you want,” he smiles, and Satoru takes the opportunity to slide his arm around the shoulder of Suguru, grinning like an idiot.

“We should go too, Sugu’,” he coos exaggeratedly. You chuckle and excuse yourself, walking away to prepare yourself to relax in the hot water.

Inside the public bath, nobody else is around since all the other students finished long ago and were spending time outside, helping to prepare dinner. You take a deep breath. You sink in the water, your sore muscles getting almost magically healed by the warmth, closing your eyes. You open them back when you hear on the other side of the wall made in bamboo, inside the male public bath, two familiar voices.

It was Gojo and Geto, and you couldn’t help but fluster at the idea that they were naked on the other side of the baths. You obviously couldn’t see them, nor they could see you, but your fantasies thought otherwise.

You try to not imagine lewd things, but it was hard to, even though it was bad. It’s been years that you were untouched, having no time for dating or hookups, not wanting to do so. Yet, it made you frustrated that your sexual life was so low. It’s maybe for that, that you were having weird ideas about your teachers, your crush on them not helping at all. But the images of their hands around your limbs, innocently supporting you earlier to not fall. Or the way they said your name, acted with you for months now, the fact that you knew they were currently sexually active as they admitted in the past, having their so called “fun”... Was it so wrong to desire them ? They didn’t know anything, it was in between yourself and nobody else. Your little secret. You didn’t cause any harm after all.

“You really couldn’t keep it in your pants, uh ?” You suddenly hear the voice of Suguru from the other side of the baths. Curious, even though it was wrong, you try to listen to their conversation.

“Can you blame me ? Do you see how she looks at us ? I couldn’t resist asking her, there is nothing wrong with that,” retorts Satoru.

“Yeah, well, at least I know how to control myself. We are in no position to make a move on her.”

“That’s so fucking annoying. She is just my type, what a bummer,” sighs Satoru. You wonder what they were talking about, and more likely about who. You frown, moving slowly in the bath to get closer to the wall to eavesdrop better. What were you even doing ? !

“If you really want to make a move on her, we should wait for her to graduate, like that, there will be no problem,” replies Suguru. You open your eyes wide at what they said. Did you imagine it ? No, clearly not. You try to not make any sound as you move even closer, but the water betrays you.

“Yeah yeah, I know. But damn, she clearly has a crush on us, Sugu’. It’s hard to stay professional sometimes,” he groans.

“To be honest, we aren’t really professional with her. Even less you…”

“Hey, how about we do a small move on her, just to see if she is willing or not. If she doesn’t, then that’s too bad, we stop everything. If she does, well... we’ll see, yeah ?”

“It’s another one of your bad ideas,” answers Suguru in a long sigh.

“Come on, don’t be so uptight, I know you are curious.” You swear you could imagine a grin forming on the lips of Gojo just by his cocky tone of voice. There is a small moment of quietness, before you hear something again.

“Deal.”

You bite hard on your lips to not make any noise of surprise, shocked by what you just heard. You decide to not stay any longer and quickly leave the hot bath in panic.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the walls, Satoru grins mischievously, and Suguru slides his hand in his wet long black hair.

“Do you think she heard us ?” asks Gojo, playing with the water while sinking a bit more in the warmth around him.

“Of course she did. She was the last one to enter the baths, everyone else was outside cooking dinner,” answers Geto confidently, stretching his arms and looking at the wall.

“Then that’s perfect, at least she can prepare herself now for what is coming,” chuckles Satoru, gazing at his best friend.

“Don’t be too mean, Satoru.”

“You say that, but in between the two of us, you are the one that is a damn sadic sometimes. Am I right ?”

Suguru simply grins as an answer.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Tonight was the second and last night of your trip. Since yesterday, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you heard in the hot baths. Were they talking about you, or someone else ? You couldn’t know, but yet, deep in your heart, you hoped it was indeed you. The following day you kept being shy around them, unable to forget their words echoing in your mind. Each time they were talking to you, slightly touching you, like a hand on your shoulder, or the way they looked at you, you felt your heart hammering in your chest like a wild horse.

You were sitting on a truck in front of the bonfire, next to your friends, roasting marshmallows thanks to the idea of Gojo. Everyone was happily talking, drinking beer and munching on the melted sweets. You kept avoiding their eyes, and you knew that they sensed it.

You look up at them, at how attractive they looked with the reflection of the flames on their face and body. Suguru was wearing a black hoodie with black sweatpants, sitting on a manspread while turning the stick with the marshmallow on it. His hair was half tied in a bun, his little bang falling back on his face. Satoru was wearing blue jeans with a sweater too, a gray one. He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, the warmth of the fire illuminating his pretty eyes. You try to look away, mesmerized, but then Suguru looks at you and grins. A grin that didn’t look so innocent.

At the same time, other students keep their conversation with them. One of them asks something about the last lesson of the class of Satoru, and he stretches his long limbs gazing at you before looking back at the student.

“Aww come on, I don’t want to think about work right now. Let’s talk about it once we are back on campus, okay guys ?” he answers.

“Last lesson was so hard, is it possible to have some personal tutoring with you, professor ?” coos a student with mid length hair, batting their lashes.

“Nah, sorry, I don’t do tutoring. But, I can send a file of some explained exercises, and training to do, it will help you,” he replies, but the way he said that he doesn’t do tutoring, his eyes were on you, boring into yours. You gulp, he was blatantly lying, and you were the only one, aside from Suguru, to know.

They complain, and your friends do too, saying they wished they could assist to some special tutoring. Well, you keep your mouth shut, unable to say that you already had one tutoring from him in the past, and that he proposed to do more for you. It really was favoritism, and you felt kinda bad, but, as Gojo said, you shouldn't miss such an opportunity. Life was unfair, after all.

“Y/n, can you help me bring more wood for the bonfire ?” asks suddenly Suguru, standing up from the truck and showing with his chin the way towards where he wanted you to follow him. You look at first surprised, nervous to be alone with him, but still nod and stand up after a few short seconds. You were excited too, some heat pooling in your lower stomach at the idea.

“Satoru couldn’t help ?” you question as you walk next to him, away of the bonfire.

“For now, we need to keep at least one of us present, since some students are drinking alcohol. Safety first,” he explains as you both arrive in a secluded area of the camp with the necessary firewood.

“Yeah, that’s logical,” you smile a bit awkwardly when you reply, and he leans against the tarpaulin that covers the wood from being wet.

“Sorry, I half lied. I wanted to smoke too, actually,” he admits as he slides a cigarette in between his lips and lights it with his lighter, inhaling softly and then blowing the toxic smoke in the darkness of the night. You look at him, almost in awe, unable to not look at his lips or his fingers turning red from the weather.

“I don’t mind,” you shake your head slightly, and he smirks.

“The way you look at me makes it look like you want one too,” he muses, tilting his head on the side and eying you down. Well, you wanted him more than anything else, but you wouldn’t refuse something to ease your nerves.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“I shouldn’t do that, but… here you go,” he proposes as he takes one from his pack, and gives it to you. You thank him and grab it.

Expect you didn’t have any lighter on you, Suguru realized that. He keeps his usual unreadable face, but then steps closer and leans towards you. The tip of his cigarette kisses yours, and you fluster at the situation, yet you try to keep your cool as you inhale, lightening it. You blow the smoke away, surprised that he did such a gesture.

“Thank you,” you whisper in the quietness of the area.

“I’m just doing what you did for me last time,” he answers as a small smirk forms at the corner of his lips. Right, you remember your bold move some weeks ago, and get even more embarrassed.

“Well, about that…”

“Are you nervous, y/n ?” he cuts you in the middle of your sentence, and that throws you off guard.

“Nervous ? What ?” you almost stutter, chocking on the smoke, not expecting for him to ask that. His purple eyes stay right on you, unwavering.

“Yeah, since yesterday night I feel like you are quite on edge. Did something happen ?” he continues, in a worried tone of voice, but you knew that he wasn’t really worried. He knew something, clearly. Suguru wasn’t dumb.

“I guess I’m just a bit tired because of the hiking of yesterday,” you lie, he finishes his cigarette quickly, looking at you.

“Is that so ?” Suguru raise his eyebrows and then you finish your cigarette too, putting it in the trashbean next to the tarpaulin. He lifts it and take some wood, giving you a small portion in your arms. He takes more.

“Yep, just tired,” you insist, trying to act nonchalant by shrugging and bringing closer to your chest the wood. He walks next to you, showing you to follow him back to the bonfire where you could hear the sounds of people cheering, laughing and having fun.

The moment you arrive, Satoru looks at the both of you, and then Suguru discreetly leans towards your ear before whispering :

“You know it’s bad to eavesdrop, right, y/n ?”

You freeze. He simply smiles without even looking at you, and throws the wood in the fire before dusting off his hands. Air is knocked out of your lungs, in a gasp, and you awkwardly throw too the wood in the bonfire. He knew, he fucking knew. And the way Satoru is gazing at you with a cocky smirk, you know that he knows too.

You just wanted to bury yourself of embarrassment right now. But you couldn’t act like a coward, and instead sit back on the truck with your friends, trying to forget about it. But your hands were sweating, a lot, and you were so so flustered, remembering what they said. That was a dangerous game to play, a very dangerous one.

But the adrenaline in your veins, pulsating towards your heart, making your body warmer by the second, makes you want more, and more, even more. Will it go farther, will they make a move as they proposed ? But the first question was : were they talking about you, or someone else ? You still had no real confirmation, after all.

Some minutes pass, and the moment that some students go back to their dorms to sleep, being exhausted from drinking too much beer, you decide to follow them. You help them, after all it was your duty as the president of the class, even though it was your club and not your course. Nonetheless, a whole hour passes where you are incredibly busy doing so, and it’s helping you forget for a while your nervousness.

You sigh, finally done. The other students that still didn’t go to sleep, were minding their own business without needing any supervision. You stretch, clearly exhausted and your muscles being sore from bending over again and again to support some drunk heads towards their bed.

As you step back in the empty corridor, your body hits the chest of someone. You turn around, only to be face to face to your troublemakers.

“Y/n ? Aren’t you sleeping too ?” asks Satoru, raising his eyebrows and leaning towards, towering over you with Suguru that keeps his hands in his pockets.

“Not yet, I was busy helping out some classmates” you stutter, backing away, clenching your heart with your hand as you squeeze a bit your thighs together.

“Us too. Hmmm, well. How about before sleeping we spend some time together ? Since it’s the last night. If you want, of course,” purrs Suguru by stepping closer, tilting his head to the side to analyze you better.

“Sugu’, I think she is way too shy now. Maybe leave her alone, we wouldn’t want our poor y/n to feel uncomfortable after what she heard yesterday,” continues Satoru, leaning his forearm on the shoulder of the black haired one, a slight sas smile on his face and shaking his head in a mock concern.

Yes, you were feeling shy. But you clearly wanted to fulfill your dream, of having something more with them, no matter how problematic it was. It was maybe your only chance right now. So you quickly shake your head, deciding to be brave in your desire.

“No no no, I’m good. I don’t mind staying with the both of you before sleeping. I’m not really tired, anyways…” you exclaim, and a big, mischievous smile stretches their lips, and you just feel like you were dancing in the palm of their hands.

“Aww really ? That’s good. Then come here,” replies Satoru as he grabs your shoulders and brings you with them, walking alongside you.

The three of you arrived at the public living room of the building of the camp, but nobody else was there. It was empty. The moonlight outside illuminates the place through the big window. They close the door behind them, and make you sit on the couch that was in front of the fireplace. You are now sitting in between the two of them, the arm of the white haired one still around your shoulders, meanwhile the thigh of Suguru brushes yours.

Satoru drinks some water in a cup, and he looks at you. His fingers that were around your shoulders, softly caressing your skin, brings you closer. At the same time, Suguru stretches his arm behind your head, slowly spreading more of his legs, leaving you little space.

“Y/n, if you are here, it’s for a reason, right ?” asks the black haired one, glancing at you. His hand behind your head comes to lightly touch your hair, and you can’t help but shiver.

“You aren’t as innocent as we thought, uh ?” continues Satoru, putting down the glass of water on the table, long fingers sliding under your chin to tilt it towards him. You swallow your saliva, and don’t realize how you bite your lower lip of apprehension. You felt like he was staring right at your soul with his piercing blue eyes shining in the dim atmosphere.

“Why would I be ?” you retort back. The mood felt electric. The hand of Suguru slides down around your waist now, gripping your soft flesh through your shirt.

“Well, we thought it was cute, your crush on us. Even though we are your professors. You know it isn’t right, yeah ?” adds Suguru, and you try to look at him by turning around your head, yet Satoru keeps his grip on your chin firm. You frown, and decide to gather your courage.

“So what ? I’m 22, not some kid. And from what I know, many other students on campus clearly have a crush on both of you too. I don’t cause any harm,” you defend yourself, and almost gasp as the cold and cool fingers of Geto slide under your shirt to gently caress your skin.

“Oh but yes, you caused us harm, y/n. You lied. You said you had feelings for no one on campus, including teachers. We hate people that lie, did you know ?” he whispers, his nails now digging on your waist and you let out a small noise escaping your lips.

“How about you say sorry ?” Satoru grins saying that, leaning forward, his breath on your neck, and softly kissing your pulsating point. You immediately squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the burning desire in your lower stomach.

“Sorry ? I did nothing wrong-”

“Y/n, we don’t like people that lie. You should be sorry. Not only for that, but sorry too because you were listening to our conversation in the hot baths yesterday. You are an adult, not some kid, as you said. Excusing yourself should be easy, right ?” he whispers in your other ear, his long black hair caressing your shoulder and cheek.

At the same time the sweet lips of Satoru tingle on your neck, and you shiver. You were turned on as ever, and you just wanted to play their little game even more. It was so thrilling. The wet patch on your panties confirmed it.

“Don’t worry, it will be our little secret. Nobody else will know, just you, Suguru, and me. So ? You in, y/n ?” asks Satoru, licking his lips as he mischievously looks at you, and you were screaming of happiness internally. Your dream was coming true, finally. After years of fantasizing, daydreaming, and silly crushes. It was happening ! If you died after it, you were sure you would be happy.

“Fuck. Yeah,” you whisper in a breath, and the moment you give your consent, the lips of Satoru smash against yours.

You moan, his other hand grabbing your hand and he leans towards you. He moves his mouth sensually against yours, before his soft like velvet tongue caresses yours. Fuck, that was so hot. He kissed like a God, and your years of inactivity made you shyer than you thought. He presses your back against the chest of his best friend, leaving you no room to escape. You rub your thighs together, yet the strong hand of Suguru slides in between them and parts them apart.

“No no no, you can’t, y/n. Only us can. That’s what you get for not saying sorry,” he coos, his fingers caressing your clothed cunt, pressing exactly where your pulsating point was, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Satoru swallows your whimper, deepening the kiss, making it almost hard to keep up.

You had no more time to lament yourself, that the hand of Suguru slips under your pants, and then under your panties. His slender finger slides in between your folds, and the contrast in between the warmth of your cunt and the coldness of his skin makes your legs shake for a second.

“Satoru, she is dripping wet. Look at that. So cute,” meanly says Suguru, downcasting his soaked digits, and you fluster when you look at them. Satoru even grins against your lips, chuckling a bit.

“I mean, poor y/n didn’t have sex for a long time… Pretty cunt was waiting for us, yeah ?” the white haired one adds, winking at you, and he lets Suguru grab your head quite roughly to make you look at him.

“Maybe you should taste yourself, so you can realize by yourself how needy you are, y/n.” It was more like an order rather than a question. At the same time Satoru is busy unbuttoning your shirt, freeing your breast with your already perked nipples.

“I-” you start to say, but then he softly puts his soaked digits on your tongue.

“Suck”, he commands. You do so, your tongue swirling around his fingers, and his smile gets larger as he looks at you obediently following what he said. As you suck, Satoru is busy sucking your nipples instead, his other hand occupied fondling it to stimulate both at the same time. You moan on the fingers of Suguru at the feeling, and he slowly takes them off, looking at the saliva that lubricated them. He kisses you now, sliding back his fingers under your pants to reach your twitching pussy. The wetness of your saliva gets mixed with your juice, and he at first circles your clit with his thumb, before letting his middle finger enter your tight hole inch by inch to be sure you were comfortable. You let out a strangled whimper, and Satoru takes the opportunity to bite on your bullied nipple, moving to the center of your breast, letting out a mark.

Soon, the whole finger of Geto is pumping down your cunt, and your hips move slightly. Satoru grabs them, stopping you from squirming too much.

“Already can’t handle it ?” he mocks you.

“Isn’t she kinda pathetic ?” Suguru adds another finger saying that, his thumb still circling your pulsating and red clit.

“So weak, yeah,” answers Satoru, taking off your pants in a swift move. The first seconds, your legs are cold, but the warmth of the fireplace right in front of you on the couch, or the way your body is burning up from pleasure, the coldness soon fades away.

Suguru goes deeper, making you twitch, his long fingers being able to reach your sweet spot. He bullies harder your gummy walls, and you part your lips as you become a moaning mess. Yet, his lips smash against yours again, preventing you from being too loud. You couldn’t get caught, after all.

“We should reward her like that every time she nails her exam, don’t you think, Sugu’ ?” asks Satoru, now sliding off your panties, admiring your dripping cunt swallowing perfectly the fingers of his best friend. He bites the inside of his mouth, cheeks turning red and a cocky smirk spreading on his face.

“Does she even deserve it ? I dunno…” Suguru muses, and you try to reply that yes you do, but the pleasure is too intense you can’t even form a coherent sentence.

“Awww, you’re being so mean to her,” he chuckles, kissing your lonely neck, right there on your throat.

“Feels like she enjoys it, right y/n ?” he coos, looking at you as he stops to make out with you for a second, biting your lower lip.

Your only answer is the way your eyes roll back in your skull, cumming hard on his hand, feeling an explosion in your lower stomach as you squirt for the first time of your life. You thought you saw Heavens, and you couldn’t believe that the single hand of Geto Suguru could do such a thing. When you come back from your high, you butterfly open your eyes, panting and legs shaking.

“What a waste, y/n.” Satoru pouts, and you have no time to think that he lowers his body and digs in, his mouth directly on your cunt. When you were about to moan of surprise, your mouth was filled by the dripping fingers of Suguru.

“You better be quiet, y/n. We wouldn’t want you to wake up your classmates,” coos Suguru. You almost choke on them.

Your thighs are closing back on Satoru’s head, he chuckles, and it rumbles against your clit. With his two strong hands, he opens them back, tongue latching on your poor abused bundle of nerves. You throw your head back, the free hand of his best friend now playing with your breast. His other, that was first on your mouth, slides down on your throat and grabs it. His bicep flexes around your head when he does so, crushing you even more against him.

“So pretty, you’re a real mess. Who would have thought, hmm ?” says Suguru in a low voice, humming to himself as his fingers contract around your neck. You gasp, but then he licks your lower lip before kissing you to leave you breathless.

Satoru continues to eat you out like a starved man, and no matter how much you were squirming, his hands were firmly holding you in place.

“You taste so fucking good, y/n,” he mumbles against your folds, his tongue sliding inside your dripping hole and his nose hitting your clit. It was driving you mad, they both were keeping you on the edge.

Each time you felt like they were about to let you cum, either Suguru would stop Satoru, or Satoru would slow down by himself. You just wanted to feel relief, and your whimpers got swallowed by the countless kisses of Geto. It was damn torture, yet it felt so damn good. So sweet but almost painfully maddening.

“If you say sorry, we’ll let you cum, y/n. How about that ?” Whispers Suguru in between kisses, giving a glance to Satoru that returned the same one. His mouth was full of your cunt, letting his best friend do the talking.

“Sorry,” you mumble in a strangled moan.

“Uh-uh. I didn't hear you well. Repeat that ?”

You felt like crying. You were so, so, so close. Fuck. His stupid pretty face made you unable to not obey.

“I’m sorry !” Your eyelids are palpitating and you just fuck off your conscience, not giving a damn about your dignity anymore. Tonight there's no point in thinking too much, they were just here to consume you to the point of overdose.

Suguru grins, and with just a glance, Satoru makes you cum, hard. You throw your head back, your sounds muffled by the hand of Suguru as he kisses your neck. Satoru helps you to ride down your high, until he kisses quite softly your inner thighs. He lifts himself up, and presses his lips against yours to let you taste yourself. Suguru slowly lets go of your neck, his hand supporting you to sit comfortably back. You looked at them with desire, now addicted to the bone and just wanting more.

“Aw, don’t give us that look, y/n, because there will be no more for you tonight” pouts Satoru in a mocking way, shaking his head and tilting your head by grabbing your chin softly.

“What ?” you ask confused, frowning and clearly frustrated.

“Hmm, if you wanna go all the way with us, you have to wait to graduate your major,” starts Suguru, “and then, only then, you’ll taste real heaven. But until this day,” continues Satoru, “we’ll have to keep it down. Deal, y/n ?” finishes Suguru. And they both have the wildest grin ever, one that makes you shiver.

Yeah, one year and a half. One more fucking year and an half before you graduate. You just couldn’t wait for it to happen, to be free to woo them as you wanted, and to have a better taste of Heaven, as they said. You could confirm it.

Would you be able to keep it down, like Suguru said ? Or end up giving in before graduating ? You still had time to see by yourself. It was thrilling, but a torture. Maybe dangerous, toxic and clearly problematic, but it’s been long ago since you threw away any logical thoughts.

THE END

#gojo x reader #jjk #geto x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satosugu #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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luimagines · 2 days ago

Text

The Legendary Mermaid

Another commission!

They asked for a Legend and Reader where mermaids are involved. I'd explain more but I don't want to spoil it. XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Link didn’t think much of you at first. You were clumsy. Uncoordinated. One of the most ungraceful beings he has ever had the… um... pleasure to meet.

You spoke in broken Hylian but he could understand you well enough. When he stumbled into you on the beach he tried to go through the number of languages that he knew were native to the area but none of them seemed to click with you.

You were excitable and wobbly. You looked straight out of a ship wreck so you could have been from anywhere.

Still- Link wasn’t about to abandon you when you clearly had no idea where you were.

He took you into his village, set you up with a place to stay with some helpful neighbors and thought that his duty of care was done. He was wrong.

Turns out! You had a habit of running off in the middle of the day and going off to who knows where. The first time it happened, poor Gulley was in a tizzy trying not to panic because he thought you were just really good at hide and seek and he didn’t want you to miss dinner.But he couldn’t find you anywhere.

More people got involved.

They still had no idea where you went. Hours passed and the sun went down but no one had a clue where their strange and sudden visitor could have gone off to.

Link suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe you went off into the lake and something terrible happened. He ran as fast as he could but his panic happened to be unfounded.

You were there, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed, playing a small hermit crab that had somehow made it out of the water.

Link had half the mind to scold you, but your innocent giggles at the tiny creature had enough incentive to get him to calm down first. He bought you back where many of the aunties and elders fussed over you before giving you a warm bowl of soup and tucking you away for the night.

Your galavanting happened at least every other day. It didn’t take long for Link to realize that everytime you went missing, you were actually just by some body of water.

He thought that maybe you just had a childish way of exploring. Or maybe you just liked to splash and swim. He wasn’t one to judge. He just wished you told people where you were going and when you planned to be back so no one would worry about you.

When you decided to stay in the village and interact with other humans for a change, you were like a fish out of water.

You crashed into walls. You tripped over your own two feet. You would lose your balance at the oddest of times.

“Whoa!” Link caught you the arm before you could fall over and land face first into a pile of mud. “You know… You walk like a newborn deer.”

“What is deer?” You ask on impulse.

Link pauses and gives you a questioning look but decides to keep his judgment silent. Maybe there’s just no deer where you’re from. Somehow. Which would be strange considering how popular they are. Then again, you’ve never mentioned how you got to where they are or where you grew up. It seemed to be the only topic you actively avoided talking about.

“An animal.” Link says instead. “They have skinny legs and they begin walking on the day they’re born. The males have horns on their heads.”

“....Do they shine? Many colors?” You ask with a hopeful expression on your face.

Link hates to be the bearer of bad news, but he finds that he can’t lie to you. “Not really. They hide a lot so they look like golden grass and dried leaves.”

“Grass.” You stand up straighter, still holding onto his arm. “...Hm…”

Link has no idea how to respond to that.

“Yes.” He tries anyway. “They’re actually quite big once they’re fully grown. They’re majestic creatures.”

“Magic?” You tilt your head.

“No magic.” He shakes his head. “ Ma-ges-tic.”

“...Oh.”

Is he going crazy or do you sound disappointed? Link swallows the spit in his throat, not sure why he feels the need to not only make you feel better, but to also impress you. “Most animals can’t do magic but they’re still very impressive. You know- if you want, we can always go into the forest and look for them. How’s that sound?”

You smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Link feels his heart bob. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? After I’m done with my work in the forge, I’ll come look for you and we can go explore some more.”

Your eyes light up a little more genuinely and you nod enthusiastically to boot.

Link feels better about this suddenly.

Until tomorrow rolls around and you’re once again nowhere to be found.

Link wants to ram his head into the nearest wall. How could he forget? It was a ‘Go for a Swim Day’ today. It was part of your pattern. Did he just forget all his senses suddenly?

Groaning for the extra mileage he has to walk, he heads home first to collect some stuff for the journey. Surely you would be hungry at some point, right? Maybe he can make it a picnic too. There’s a nice spot that overlooks the valley that he knows of. You seem to be the type of person who enjoys the simple things his home has to offer.

Not only that but you seem rather focused on finding magical items. Or at least you try to find something magical in every nook and cranny. …He has a few magical items. That can impress you! He packs his magic mirror, his fire arrows and his mermaid tail. You’ll probably find a river or pond that you’d want to jump in. Since you love to swim so much, maybe he’ll join you just this once and show off a bit. Surely you’ve never seen anything like it.

Once he has everything set, he checks the nearby creek first- hoping you didn’t decide to splash around and find out.

Nothing.

Not a stone unturned and not a single piece of evidence that anyone had been here earlier.

Link groans louder and turns on his heel to head down to the lake instead. He knows he’s being dramatic, but you’re not around to witness his pettiness, so he’s at liberty to do what he wants.

His feet are aching by the time he finally makes it to the lake. He kicks off his shoes to walk along the warm sandband before he begins his search anew. There’s not much that he thinks he has to look for. A bag? Some footprints? A discarded shirt or something? Your shoes by the side of the bank?

He finds… nothing.

“Where are you?” Link growls and flops onto the dirt. He pouts and puts his cheeks in his palms as he tries to think about what to do next. There goes his plans for the afternoon. And probably well into the evening at that.

Link can’t help the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at the thought of being stood up. Not this was any big deal or anything- but he didn’t realize how much he was actually looking forward to this moment until he couldn’t have it.

Well.. He’s at the lake anyway. And he has the mermaid tail. He’ll get something for you. He can dive to the bottom of the lake and find something cool for you!

Link shimmies the tail on without a second thought and crawls into the water. The magic takes effect at once. He takes his first deep breath and pushes himself further into the cold. He feels his legs become intertwined with his item. The cold loses the sting the further he goes and although it takes a bit longer for his brain to adjust than he’d like, Link is quickly swimming deeper and deeper to where no other Hylian has gone before.

His eyes take longer to adjust. Considering he’s more worried about not forgetting that he can now breathe underwater, he’s still to ignore that little tidbit. All he has to do is swim straight down anyway.

Something moves to his left.

Link stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” He blurts. The sound he makes is warbled, broken as it always is when he tries to speak underwater.

In a split second, the figure blasts in front of him, sending him back a few feet. He brings up his arms to block any unwanted water from going up his nose and growls.

You poke his arm two seconds later.

“AH!” He screams without meaning to.

You seem just as perplexed and confused. You tilt your head and swim back just enough so that you can see him in his entirety. “Link?”

Your voice has changed too, but not quite like his does when he’s in this form. Your voice is clear as crystal and he can physically feel the waves it produces as they curl around his ears and his body.

He repeats your name with the same shocked reverence.

You break out into excited chitters and clicks, sounds he’s never heard before poke all around his body and he thinks he can feel the very effect they have on his brain.

You swim back over to him and twirl him around in earnest. You look delighted to see him here.

Link takes the moment to also look you over.

A mermaid.

He flushes when he sees more than he’s bargained for. Of course. What purpose do clothes serve to a mermaid?

You swim circles around him. The movement is graceful and borderline poetic, nothing like the way you move on land. Your tail was glittery and bejeweled with colors he hadn’t known could sparkle in the low light of the lake water. It trailed after you like a silk scarf or a skilled ribbon dancer.

He was staring.

You seemed to have caught on quickly that he was enthralled by your body. A part of you wonders why. Another feels the need to be embarrassed. You’ve dressed in the way of the finless for so long that you’ve almost adopted their shameful thinking to cover up one's form. The third and final part of you actually likes his attention. He’s impressed. Enamored, almost. This is the part of you that wins.

Smirking, you decide to metaphorically test the waters and dance around him some more, brushing your tail against his and pulling him this way and that with your dance alone. You swim away for just a second, wanting to play some more with the strange boy that can be of both worlds.

Link jolts out of the trance you’ve put him in and skips to follow you.

You laugh.

His breath catches in his throat at the sound of subtle trills and chirps. Link freezes completely in his spot. Your laugh tickles him even as he begins to sink from the lack of movement once more.

“You swim worse than a guppy.”

Link falters and the ethereal moment for him is shattered in an instant.

“Hey!” He says instead.

You laugh again, sending more pins and needles over his skin and tail and begin to swim laps around him, clearly showing off your superior swimming agility. You play with him some more, poking and annoying him but swimming away before he can retaliate and poke you back.

The game catches on from there.

Link is, unfortunately, in over his head and he has to admit proverbial defeat minutes into it. It doesn’t stop him from playing anyway. This is arguably the most free he’s ever seen you and he’s not about to ruin it anymore than his lack of grace does on its own.

It’s nice.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu legend #mermaids

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

Text

Sum of All 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The woman doesn’t say a word as she gets in the car. You don’t either. The tension in the car is like the sound of glass about to break. Each breath is another crack.

The fourth passenger in the car is your confusion. You’re not quite sure why you’re still there. The job is done, right? And this is business. Not your business. You don’t ask. Questions are a bad idea with these kind of people.

Rogers drives out of town. The old warehouse is ominous and you’re happy you’re not the one he tells to get out. The woman doesn’t hesitate even as you can sense her uncertainty. You only get a brief glimpse of her as she goes as the car pulls away swiftly.

He retraces the same route. He clears his throat as he passes the city marker. “We needa talk,” he says.

“We do?” You eke out.

He sighs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, “look, I’m taking you home. You did your job.”

“Oh, okay,” you fold your hands in your lap.

“So, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. Discretion,” he intones.

You thoughtfully mull the world. As far as you’re concerned, the moment you’re out of the car, it’s all behind you. Just a weird fever dream you can forget about.

“Not that anyone should ask but if they do, you know nothing.”

He stares at you intently. His blue eyes are bright despite the shadows, as his beard and hair swallow up the dark. He really is a frightening man. You’re fortunate to be walking away. You know that at least.

“Sure,” you agree.

“Open the glove box. Your take is in there,” he says.

You lean forward and do as he says. You take out the envelope. It’s stuffed with bills. That won’t be suspicious at all. You’ll deposit it a little at a time. Wait, should you accept this? It’s blood money, isn’t it?

“All yours. I’m sure you can figure out something to do with it,” he says.

You recognize the streets around you. Your neighbourhood isn’t the nicest but it’s home. For now. You watch through the window as you ponder your deal with the devil. You won’t argue with him but you could always give the money to a good cause.

He pulls up to your building and you tuck the envelope in your purse. That’s it. It’s over. It’ll just be a funny story to tell in twenty years when the heat’s off of you. People won’t believe someone like you had a brush with danger. You can hardly believe it yourself.

“I’ll stay here til you’re inside. Make sure you don’t have anyone tryna snatch your purse,” he says.

You look at him, “what are you walking about?”

He squints and his lashes flick. He shakes his head, “what?”

“Who are you?” You ask.

His lips part and he pauses before he speaks, “you hit your head?”

“Discretion,” you say. “Remember? I don’t.” You tap your head and pull the door handle, “have a good night. Or, er, life.”

You shut the door gently and turn away. You let out a breath and march staunchly up to the front door. You sense him watching you but you’re not bothered. It’s over. You’re free.

You go inside, certain to pull the grate door closed heavily before you continue up to your unit. As you get inside, you let your shoulders drop and hang your head back. No more scary men and hopefully, no more fainting.

You take out your phone and find it just as lifeless as ever. You have a few notices to keep up your game streak but nothing important. Just an email.

Wait. Before you can swipe it away, your brain catches the name. You applied to the firm months ago. Please, don’t be another rejection.

You open it, one hand on your phone, the other stirring around for the envelope in your bag. You carry both through the front room of your apartment and into the bedroom. You tap the email to open and put the phone down to look for a hiding spot.

You tuck the money under your mattress and reclaim your cell. You sit on the bed and read. It’s an offer for an interview. Great timing too. The sooner you can get out of this city, the better. You’ve seen its dark underbelly. No thank you.

You reply, drafting your acceptance several times before sending. Content, you stretch out the last of the tension. You feel bad for all those people; the man that Rogers beat in the middle of the road, Warren, and whoever that woman was in the backseat. Still, all you have is your empathy. You can’t do much for any of them.

The night passes so dully that you can almost believe you dreamt the last three days. In the morning, you’re back to the usual, though it doesn’t feel quite so. You get dressed, pack your lunch, and set off for the firm.

You greet Geraldine as she unlocks the front door of the office. She’s happy to see you. You’re less than happy to see your desk. There’s a dozen post-its stuck to your keyboard. Each with a name and file number. That’s everything you have to catch up on, all scribbled in Brenner’s tight lettering.

You sit and stack them up neatly. Brenner shows up an hour later. He’s hung over. You can tell by how he keeps his sunglasses on and goes through coffee like a siphon.

Neither of them acknowledge your absence. They don’t ask and you don’t mention it. If all things go to plan, soon enough, your desk will be filled by someone else.

You get through a couple post-its before lunch then check your phone. You have a time and date for the interview. Things are moving along. You’re already fantasizing about giving your two-week notice.

You’re going to be out of here, onto greater things. Just like you set out for. Well, it’s just an interview. You need to be practical about this. One step at a time. For now, you need to shovel through the pile of shit before you. Fresh air is just around the corner.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #sum of all #au #mob au #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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olderthannetfic · 3 days ago

Note

Everyone's piling in with comments on AO3 updating the wording of the "underage" tag to trick the dingbats intil using it correctly, but there's another thing in the new terms that I think a lot of people should appreciate. They're updating the wording about harassment to explicitely classify harassment of groups, rather than just individuals, as against the TOS, and they giving PAC the authority to immediatel delete comments instead of asking the commenter to edit them first.

This sounds to me like it will give PAC a better toolkit for for dealing with the really egregious asshollery, and the turnaround between reporting a comment and having it swept away should shorten up a bit.

Yeah. As always with public comment periods/voting/politics/policy/etc., the actually vital nitty gritty policy stuff that will actually make the most significant impact isn't the main topic of conversation.

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castiwls · 3 days ago

Text

coach .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Synopsis; your sons tennis coach is the bain of your life. You hated Patrick zweig - that only made you that much more attractive to him.

Requested;

Notes; i feel like i cant write him properly still :( something feels off

Masterlist

“Can Patrick come?”

Your son’s voice cut through the quietness of the car, his head peeking up from the switch in his lap. He sent you his best puppy dog eyes as you met his gaze through the rearview mirror for a moment.

“You want Patrick to come?” You clarified as you raised an eyebrow. He nodded enthusiastically before looking back down to his game. “Mhm.” A long-suffering sigh left your lips as you focused back on the road.

Great.

Of all the people your son could grow an attachment to he’d just had to pick one of the most insufferable guys you’d ever met. It had taken you all of five minutes to decide that you were far from keen on the tennis coach your ex had found for your son.

“I don’t know…” You sighed hoping your son would simply drop the topic. Why did he want his tennis coach to come to dinner anyway? That surely had to be breaking some sort of code, either that or it would just simply cause more drama amongst the other parents at the club.

They already believed your son got special treatment. One mum had once claimed that the two of you must be hooking up at least if the way he looked at you was anything to go by. Sure you’d noticed his less-than-subtle glances as he checked you out - his grin only growing at the scowl he’d get back - but you were not sleeping with him.

“Please.” He pleaded looking back up. “I’ll do the dishes and clean my room?”

The car came to a stop outside the courts. “You do that and you hoover for a week.” You turned in your chair shooting him a look as he nodded. “I mean it.”

“I will. I will.” He nodded so fast you thought he was going to make himself sick for a moment.

Shaking your head with a small smile. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Don’t let this go to your head.” You said taking another sip from your glass. Patrick held his hands up as he found your gaze. “Hey! I’ve been good.” He raised an eyebrow watching you for a moment.

He’d all but jumped at the chance when you’d begrudgingly approached him explaining that your son (for reasons you had no idea) wanted him to come to dinner.

Patrick knew damn well why your son had made that specific request. You were by far the hottest person he’d met at that damn club and your kid was pretty cute too. Maybe he was wrong to bride a 9-year-old with the promise of £20 and a new trick shot but hey! It had worked out for them both.

“Loosen up a little.” He grinned as you placed your drink down. “You’ve been glaring at me for the last hour.”

“I’m trying to will you away.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, you’re still here so…”

Patrick hummed sitting back in his seat. He pointed a finger at you, waving it around slightly as you frowned. “I know you like me. I know that because otherwise, you would have said no.”

You scoffed. “Just because I’m giving my son something he wants doesn’t mean I liked you.”

Patrick smiled, the same one that made your stomach flip - not that you’d ever admit it. “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

You’d unleashed a monster.

Patrick’s advances had only worsened since that damn dinner. His eyes seemed to linger on your chest for a moment too long as you handed him the cash before dragging your son away ignoring the way you could feel his eyes boring through you.

Other than that he’d been… okay.

Until right now.

“Why are you at my front door?”

“Suprise.” He smiled leaning against the doorway. You leveled him with an unimpressed look at he looked sheepish for all of a minute. “I was just passing by and decided to say hi.”

“Mhm.” You nodded letting out a sigh. “He’s at his dad's.”

“It’s not him I wanted to say hi to.”

Patrick shot a look down your path before peeking over your shoulder and into the house. “Nice house…very you.”

You frowned shifting slightly. “What do you want?”

Patrick huffed rolling his eyes. “God your no fun.”

Part of him loved it. The challenge of cracking that cold exterior just enough to weasel his way in. He’d seen your softer side, the way you acted around your son was almost a polar opposite of the glare you seemed to always be levelling him with.

It was hot.

He was many things and determined was one of them. He would crack your walls if it was the last thing he did.

“I know this is all an act. The whole I hate you thing.” He leaned slightly closer, his forum almost looming over you. “You’re playing hard to get. Other guys might have just called it a day ya know? Been on the end of your glare one too many times and decided to call it quits.” His hand slowly curled around your own.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m just as stubborn as you.”

You hummed, trying to ignore the heat swirling in your stomach because you would not fall to Patrick Zweig’s charms. You’d spent the last year doing everything in your power to keep him away yet he’d somehow weasled his way into your life.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment.

“Oh yeah? I think we can change that.”

139 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 2 days ago

Text

✨His true fate - Part 29/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap

Word Count: 8642

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

As the evening settled around you, the soft glow from the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room. You and Jensen were curled up in bed, his arm wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting, and for a while, the two of you just lay there in contented silence.

But you could feel a slight tension in the way Jensen held you, as if something was on his mind. After a few minutes, he shifted slightly, and you looked up to meet his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze soft but thoughtful, before finally speaking.

“I’ve been thinking”, he began, his voice low and careful, as though he wasn’t sure how to bring up what was weighing on him. “About what Jared said earlier… and about the future”.

You didn’t say anything yet, just waited for him to continue, sensing that this was something important.

Jensen exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as if gathering the courage to ask what was on his mind. “I know things are complicated right now, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I’ve been thinking… Could you ever imagine… moving in with me? Dealing with the kids? I mean, I know it’s a lot to ask”.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you could feel his uncertainty, the way he was carefully treading around the topic. He glanced down at you, searching your eyes for any hint of how you were feeling. “I can imagine it might feel like too much”, he continued, his voice soft. “I mean… you’re still so young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I just… I don’t want to put any pressure on you. But I have to ask”.

You felt your heart flutter at the vulnerability in his voice, the way he was so careful with his words, not wanting to overwhelm you. You could see the weight of the question in his eyes, the fear that maybe this was too much for you—too complicated.

But you also saw something else. You saw how much Jensen cared, how deeply he was considering what it would mean for the two of you to take this step. And despite the complexities, the uncertainties, you realized something important—you could see yourself doing this. With him.

Jensen shifted again, his hand brushing through your hair, his voice quiet and slightly hesitant as he continued, “I wouldn’t ask this so soon… I know it’s a big thing, and I don’t expect you to just jump into it. It’s nothing I want to do by tomorrow or even next week. It’s just…”.

He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. You stayed silent, giving him the space to work through his thoughts.

“With my kids involved, it’s not just about me”, he finally said, his tone serious. “It’s about them, their lives. I have to think about what’s best for them, and I want things to be stable. As stable as they can be, given my lifestyle”. He paused for a moment, exhaling softly as his hand came to rest gently on your arm. “If… when I introduce you to them, I want it to be because I’m sure. Because it’s going to last”.

His words were filled with such a deep sense of responsibility, and you could see how heavily this weighed on him. The uncertainty he carried wasn’t just about the relationship between the two of you, but about the future he was building for his kids. He wanted them to have stability, security—and that included anyone who came into their lives, including you.

Jensen looked down at you, his eyes searching yours, almost as if he was waiting for you to tell him that it was too much. “I’ve been through enough with the divorce”, he continued, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t want to confuse them, or bring someone into their lives if I’m not completely sure it’s the right thing. I want them to feel safe… to know that if you’re going to be part of their world, it’s because I believe it’s going to work”.

You could feel the weight of what he was saying—how much his kids meant to him, how carefully he was navigating the future for them, and how much this conversation wasn’t just about you and him, but about building something meaningful that could truly last. He wasn’t asking for an answer right away, but it was clear that when he thought of the future, he was imagining you in it.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you searched for the right words. The weight of what Jensen had said, the vulnerability in his voice, made the moment feel all the more real. You knew this was a pivotal conversation—not just about logistics or plans, but about where you saw yourself in his life, in the lives of his kids. He was asking for reassurance, but he wasn’t pushing. It was like he was holding his breath, afraid to hope too much.

Finally, you exhaled softly, your voice gentle but steady. "Jensen… I don’t have a problem with your kids. In fact, they’re not just part of your life—they’re part of you. I’ve known that from the beginning. And if they lived with you full-time, or if they were just visiting every other week, it wouldn’t change how I feel about us".

You paused, watching as his eyes searched yours, hanging onto every word. You reached out, brushing your thumb lightly over the back of his hand as you continued, your voice thick with emotion.

"I know it’s complicated… and I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But I’ve thought about this, Jensen. And I’m not scared of the idea of being part of your life, your whole life, kids and all". You hesitated, biting your lip again before speaking from the deepest part of your heart. "And as for Austin… I mean, I like it, but I don’t need to stay there forever. I’d move for you. If it meant building a life with you, I’d choose that over anything else".

His breath caught, and you could see the emotion building in his eyes. He looked at you like he was trying to absorb your words, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

You shifted slightly, sitting up more so you could face him fully. "Jensen, I’m not here just for the easy moments. I’m here because I see a future with you, because I want that future with you. Wherever that takes us, wherever we have to go—whether it’s Austin, or another city, or… making space for your kids. I’m ready for it".

He opened his mouth to speak, but for a moment, nothing came out. He just shook his head slightly, overwhelmed.

"You… you really mean that?", he finally asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, your voice breaking slightly as you replied, "I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I love you, Jensen. And I know that loving you means loving the life you’ve built—the good, the complicated, the messy. And I’m ready for all of it".

Jensen let out a breath, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin. He looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world, like you were offering him something he never thought he could have.

"I don’t even know what to say", he whispered. "I’ve been so afraid that this—us—was too much to ask for. That I was asking you to carry too much, to take on my baggage… but hearing you say that…". He trailed off, emotion overwhelming him.

You leaned into his touch, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath your palm. "You’re not asking for too much", you whispered back. "We’ll figure it out together. And whatever happens with the kids, wherever we end up—I'm in this with you".

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the stillness of the room wrapping around the two of you. Then Jensen pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again, full of gratitude and love.

"I love you", he murmured. "More than I can even say".

You smiled softly. "I love you too. And I’m not going anywhere".

A few weeks later, the tension surrounding the divorce still lingered heavily between you and Jensen. Danneel hadn’t signed the papers, and her silence weighed on him, making everything feel uncertain. Jensen had tried to reach out, to discuss a way to move forward for the sake of the kids, but most of his calls and messages went unanswered. It left him in this frustrating limbo, unsure of what the holidays were going to look like.

This morning was no different. As you both stood groggily in the bathroom, brushing your teeth before the day ahead, the exhaustion of everything settled over him. It was early—way too early—but the upcoming convention meant you had to be up, even though neither of you were truly awake.

Jensen leaned on the counter, mumbling around his toothbrush, “I don’t know what to do about the kids”.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, reflecting the weariness and uncertainty that had been eating at him for weeks. You finished brushing your teeth, rinsing your mouth before setting your toothbrush down, trying to give him a moment to process his thoughts. He was torn, you could see it clearly—wanting to spend Christmas with you, but not wanting to lose precious time with his children.

“I want to be with you, I really do”, he said quietly, his voice raw, “but if I spend Christmas with you, I won’t be with the kids. And I can’t… I can’t imagine not seeing them on Christmas”.

You turned to face him, leaning against the counter beside him, feeling the weight of his words settle in. You knew how important this decision was for him.

“I get it, Jensen”, you said softly. “I understand that the kids come first, especially at Christmas. I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose between them and me. I’d never ask that of you”.

He shook his head, his frustration evident. “It’s not just that. It’s… it’s that I feel stuck. I’m trying to be a good dad, but this whole thing with Danneel, the divorce not being finalized—it’s like I’m in this constant limbo. And if I go to spend Christmas with them, it’s just going to be so awkward with her. But if I don’t… I’ll miss them. I hate this”.

He leaned back against the counter, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly overwhelmed. “And then there’s you”, he added, his voice softening. “I want to spend Christmas with you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not important, because you are. But if I spend Christmas with you, I’d be missing out on time with the kids, and I just… I don’t know how to balance it”.

You moved closer, your hand gently resting against his cheek, your voice gentle. “Jensen, it’s okay. We can celebrate Christmas together whenever. I don’t need it to be on the exact day. Your kids need you, especially right now, and you should be with them. I’ll be okay”.

His eyes met yours, searching for reassurance, and you offered him a soft smile. “We can make our own Christmas, maybe a few days before or after. I’ll be fine, I promise”.

Jensen let out a breath he’d been holding, nodding slowly as if he was finally giving himself permission to feel less guilty. “You’re really okay with that?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“I am”, you said with certainty. “I don’t want you to miss out on time with them. We’ll have our moment, I’m not worried about that. I want you to be with your kids if that’s what you need”.

Jensen sighed softly, the weight of everything clearly still heavy on his shoulders. After a moment, he shifted slightly, avoiding your eyes for a beat before glancing back at you. “You sure you wanna come today?”, he mumbled, his voice low and hesitant.

You knew what he was referring to—the convention. Danneel was going to be there too, and the tension of it all had been hanging in the air for days.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I want to be there for you”, you said softly, meeting his gaze. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but I’ll be okay”.

Jensen’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. He wanted you there—he always did—but the thought of having to navigate the awkwardness of Danneel’s presence weighed on him. He ran a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed. “I just don’t want things to be uncomfortable for you”, he admitted, his voice almost apologetic. “With Danneel there… it might get messy. I don’t know what to expect from her”.

You shrugged casually, a playful glint in your eyes as you reached up and gently pulled him down by the neck, bringing his face close to yours. "As long as you come home with me afterward and not her", you mumbled, your lips brushing against his, the teasing smile evident in your voice. Before he could respond, you kissed him softly, letting your touch melt some of the tension from the moment.

Jensen hesitated for a second, still weighed down by his thoughts, but the warmth of your kiss broke through. With a low sigh of relief, he placed his hands on your hips, his grip firm yet gentle, as if grounding himself in the moment with you. He deepened the kiss briefly before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. Without a word, his hands slid under your thighs, and with a smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the counter beside the sink.

You laughed softly, the sudden shift catching you off guard, but you couldn’t help but lean into him more. His eyes softened as he stood between your legs, his hands resting on your waist, thumbs brushing your sides in a way that was both comforting and intimate.

"Why do you always know exactly what to say to make everything feel a little easier?", he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quiet and filled with gratitude.

You smiled, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck again, fingers lightly playing with the short strands of his hair. "Because I know you", you whispered. "And I know no matter how complicated things get, you always come back to me. That’s what matters".

Jensen closed his eyes briefly, his brow furrowing slightly as if letting go of some of the stress he'd been holding onto. "You make it sound so simple", he whispered.

"It can be simple", you replied, your voice gentle but firm. "It’s just you and me, figuring things out. One step at a time. The rest… we’ll deal with when it comes".

He smiled at that, the tension around his eyes finally easing. "I don’t deserve you, you know that?".

You leaned forward, brushing your lips lightly against his again. "You keep saying that", you whispered against his mouth, "but I’m here, aren’t I?".

Jensen kissed you softly, his hands tightening on your waist as if he needed the closeness, needed the reminder that despite all the uncertainty with Danneel and the kids, this—the two of you—was solid. After a moment, he pulled back just slightly, his lips still hovering near yours as he murmured, "I don’t know what I’d do without you".

"You’ll never have to find out", you replied quietly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as you looked into his eyes.

For a few moments, you both stayed there, wrapped up in the warmth and intimacy of the moment, all thoughts of the convention and the complications with Danneel fading into the background. Jensen’s hands rested on your thighs now, his touch gentle but reassuring, and for the first time that morning, you saw the tension in his body fully release.

"We’ll get through today", you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. "No matter what happens, you’ll come home to me, and that’s what matters".

Jensen smiled, a real, genuine smile, and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back slightly. "Yeah", he said, his voice steadier now. "You’re right".

As you slid off the counter, back onto your feet, he kept his hands on your waist for a moment longer, grounding himself in your presence. "Let’s get through this day together", he said softly. "Then we’ll figure out everything else".

As you both got ready for the last convention of the year, Jensen’s mind was running in a thousand different directions. It should’ve felt like a relief—knowing that after today, he’d have a break until New Year’s Eve, no filming, no appearances, just time to be with you—but instead, his thoughts were consumed with everything that still felt unresolved.

He kept glancing at you as you moved around the hotel room, getting ready with a quiet focus. He hadn’t told you about the houses yet—the one in Connecticut, which he loathed, and more importantly… the one near the river in Austin, which felt like a way better fit. It wasn’t just about finding a place for him and the kids; it was about building something that could include you, too. The idea of you sharing a home with him was something he hadn’t stopped thinking about. But he wasn’t ready to tell you, not until he had a clearer picture of what the future would look like. Not until the divorce was final.

Jensen hated Connecticut. The cold, the distance, the feeling of being disconnected from everything he loved—it wasn’t the life he wanted, but it was where his kids were. And he couldn’t imagine them constantly flying to see him, or him flying to them, especially with the unpredictable chaos that came with being a parent. But the thought of being stuck there, away from you, made his stomach turn. That’s why the idea of Austin, of a home closer to what felt like home, had been so appealing.

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He had to focus on today. Get through the convention first, and then maybe—maybe—he could finally sit down and figure out the next steps.

You turned to him, catching the distracted look on his face, and raised an eyebrow. “You good?”, you asked, walking over to where he stood by the window.

Jensen blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just thinking about how great it’ll be to have some time off after this. No conventions, no filming, just us”.

You smiled softly at that, clearly looking forward to it too. “Yeah, Austin’s going to be nice. And hey, we’ll have time to just relax. No rushing from one thing to another”.

“Exactly”, Jensen said, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, resting his chin on top of your head for a moment. “I can’t wait to get back to Austin with you”.

Little did you know, he wasn’t just thinking about your apartment. He’d been quietly looking for a place that could be a home for both of you, something more permanent than hotel rooms and quick getaways. He’d got an eye on a house near the river in Austin, one that felt like it could be the place. It was perfect—not just for him and the kids, but for you too, if you wanted to be part of that world with him.

But he couldn’t buy anything yet, not with the divorce still hanging over his. Danneel hadn’t signed the papers, and until she did, everything felt like it was in limbo. Still, the thought of starting fresh with you was what kept him going. He just hoped, when the time was right, that you’d want to be part of that picture.

You looked up at him, resting your hands on his chest. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”.

Jensen smiled down at you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just thinking about how lucky I am”.

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You keep saying that. Should I be worried?”.

“No”, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Just… grateful. For you, for us”.

You softened at his words, leaning into him. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too”.

Jensen kissed the top of your head, letting himself relax in the moment. Today, he just needed to get through this last convention, and then, he’d be heading back to Austin with you. Once the holidays were over, and once things with Danneel were settled, maybe he could finally tell you about the house, and what he hoped the future might look like.

The convention had the same motions as always—fans buzzing with excitement, the energy of the crowd palpable. You’d become familiar with the routine by now. You’d sit among the other fans, blending in, acting as though you were just another face in the crowd, while Jensen did his best to keep things professional, never letting on that you were anything more than a fan. It was easier that way, especially with Danneel in the picture, who still had no idea who you were or what you meant to Jensen.

You sat in the front row, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you watched him from across the room. Jensen entered with Danneel by his side, their presence on stage together sending a ripple of excitement through the audience. You bit your lip, trying to focus on Jensen, to remind yourself that this was just another day, just another convention. But with Christmas only weeks away and the divorce still looming, everything felt heavier than usual.

Jensen looked calm, as he always did in front of the fans, his smile wide and charming, but you could tell by the way his eyes flickered toward you now and then that he was distracted. He was doing his best to keep the focus on the crowd, on the fans who had come to see him and Danneel, but his gaze kept drifting back to you, even if only for a second.

It was subtle—no one else would have noticed—but you saw it. The way his smile faltered ever so slightly when he caught your eye, the way his posture tensed for just a brief moment before he forced himself to relax. He was trying not to let it show, but you could see the internal struggle playing out on his face.

Meanwhile, Danneel remained unaware, smiling and engaging with the fans as she always did, unaware of the silent tension building between you and Jensen. She didn’t know what was going on behind the scenes, didn’t know who you were, and for now, you wanted to keep it that way.

You shifted in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep your attention on the panel. It was harder than usual, knowing that Danneel’s presence was still such a significant part of Jensen’s life, even though they were in the process of untangling it. The fact that she hadn’t signed the papers yet made everything feel even more unresolved.

It wasn’t until a fan asked the question that the atmosphere shifted, the playful energy in the room becoming something a little more tense.

“Are you and Danneel planning on having another baby?”, the fan asked, their voice bright and casual. “Or are the plans for babies finally done?”.

Your heart skipped a beat. The innocent question hit you harder than you expected, but you did your best to keep your expression neutral. You’d learned to navigate these situations, to let them roll off your back, but this one felt like a punch. Especially when Danneel, always quick with a response, smiled coyly and teased, “Who knows? Maybe another little Jensen could be in the future”.

The audience laughed lightly, clearly enjoying the playful banter, but you felt a tight knot form in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, not exactly. It was the unresolved tension of everything hanging in the air. Jensen’s divorce wasn’t final, Danneel still hadn’t signed the papers, and here they were, on stage, joking about babies as if the reality of their situation was still the same as it had been years ago.

Your eyes darted toward Jensen, and you weren’t surprised to find that his gaze had immediately shot toward you, his expression tight and slightly strained. He was looking for reassurance, for any sign that you were okay, but you knew you couldn’t give him that in this moment. Not with everyone watching. So instead, you raised an eyebrow, keeping your expression as neutral as possible, silently signaling to him that you were fine. Even though you weren’t.

Jensen quickly turned back to the crowd, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he tried to deflect the awkwardness of the situation. “No more babies for me”, he said, his tone light and teasing. “I think we’ve done enough damage already”. The crowd laughed, the tension in the room dissipating slightly as Jensen continued, “Parenthood’s a lot of work, you know? It’s like trying to wrestle a tornado while also keeping it alive”.

The audience erupted into more laughter, and Jensen seemed to relax, using humor as his shield. “I love my kids, but three’s a good number. Any more and I’d probably lose my mind”, he added, grinning at the fans.

For a split second, Jensen’s eyes flickered toward you again, a brief, almost imperceptible glance, but enough for Danneel to notice. Her smile faltered for just a moment as her eyes followed his line of sight, landing directly on you. You could feel the weight of her gaze as it lingered for a beat longer than necessary, she was connecting something, sensing a shift in Jensen’s focus.

Your heart raced, but you did your best to stay composed, keeping your face neutral as if you were just another fan in the crowd. You weren’t sure if Danneel had realized who you were or if she simply noticed Jensen’s attention drifting elsewhere, but either way, the shift was palpable.

Danneel’s smile returned, but it wasn’t quite as bright as before. She glanced back at Jensen, her expression still playful for the crowd but with a hint of something more.

Jensen, to his credit, recovered quickly, slipping back into his charming persona as he engaged with another fan’s question. His eyes didn’t wander toward you again, but you could feel the strain beneath the surface, the unspoken conversation that would undoubtedly happen once the panel was over.

The rest of the panel carried on, but the atmosphere felt different. Every interaction, every joke felt more careful, more measured. You kept your focus on Jensen, but your mind was racing. You could feel Danneel’s presence like a shadow in the room, her curiosity likely piqued by the way Jensen had looked at you.

As the panel finally came to an end, the tension still hung in the air like a thick fog. The fans were starting to disperse, and Jensen, despite his usual charm and professionalism, seemed distracted. Danneel, however, didn’t let up, her curiosity piqued by the subtle interactions she had noticed during the panel.

As they made their way toward the green room, Danneel’s teasing began, her voice light but laced with an undertone of something more. “So, who was that girl you kept looking at in the front row?”, she asked, her tone playful but sharp. “Your new girlfriend won’t appreciate you shopping for a new plaything among your little fan girls, Jensen”.

Jensen nearly stopped in his tracks, biting back a grin as he realized what Danneel had assumed. She thought you were just some random girl, someone who had caught his eye like an easy distraction, not realizing that you were, in fact, the very girlfriend she was referring to. The absurdity of the situation almost made him laugh, but he quickly schooled his expression, not wanting to give anything away too soon.

He glanced over at Danneel, raising an eyebrow. “A fan girl?”, he repeated, his tone casual as he slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to act as though the conversation wasn’t affecting him.

Danneel smirked, crossing her arms as they walked. “Don’t play coy with me, Jensen. I know you. The way you kept sneaking glances her way… I saw it. And, well”, she chuckled, “she’s easy on the eyes. But you should be careful. You wouldn’t want to complicate things, right?”.

Jensen fought the urge to roll his eyes, instead shaking his head slightly. “I’m not looking for a ‘plaything,’ Danneel”, he said, keeping his voice measured. “And trust me, things are already complicated enough thanks to you".

As they stepped into the green room, Danneel was about to continue her teasing, clearly enjoying the moment a little too much. But before she could get another word out, Jensen laid a firm arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close for a second, his grip tighter than usual. The shift in his demeanor was subtle but unmistakable. He wasn’t playing anymore.

“Speaking of fucking complicated”, he said, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. He squeezed her shoulder just enough to make his point, his eyes locked on hers. “How are those divorce papers doing?”.

Danneel’s teasing smile faltered as the seriousness of his tone sank in. She shifted uncomfortably under his grip, her bravado slipping as she met his gaze. “Jensen…”.

“I’m not joking, Danneel”, Jensen continued, his voice steady but with a quiet intensity. “Not anymore. I want them signed. This back-and-forth, this limbo we’re stuck in—it’s got to end now".

Danneel blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. Her usual playful retorts were nowhere to be found as she stood there, staring at Jensen. It was as though she hadn’t expected him to confront her so directly, especially not in the middle of a convention.

“I’ve been patient”, Jensen added, his arm falling away from her shoulder as he stepped back slightly, giving her space but making it clear he wasn’t backing down. “But I’m done waiting. I want the papers signed, Danneel".

Danneel bit her lip and shifted slightly uncomfortably, glancing away before finally speaking, her voice quieter than before. “I’m ready to sign them, Jensen”, she mumbled, a trace of hesitation lingering. “But… I wanted to talk about the details. You know, like the properties and custody arrangements for the kids. I thought maybe we could discuss it tonight—over dinner”.

Jensen’s eyes immediately rolled at the suggestion. Of course, she’d want to drag this out further, under the guise of hashing out details. Dinner sounded less like a business conversation and more like another attempt to stall the inevitable. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, and he knew Danneel was trying to exert some level of control over the situation, even if just for one last time.

“Dinner?”, he repeated, incredulity lacing his voice as he ran a hand through his hair. “Danneel, we don’t need to sit over a fancy meal and pretend this is something we can smooth over like old times. The details are already outlined. You’ve had the papers for weeks. You’ve seen the custody arrangements. You’ve seen the damn property split”.

Danneel shifted, crossing her arms, but she didn’t look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well… it’s not that simple, Jensen. There are still things I want to discuss—things we need to clarify for the kids’ sake”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration at bay. “Danneel, I’ve been more than patient. We don’t need to hash this out over dinner. You’ve had plenty of time to ask questions or make changes to the papers. What’s stopping you now?”.

Danneel took a deep breath, her face hardening as her gaze finally locked with Jensen’s. She straightened her shoulders, raising her chin with a defiant glint in her eyes.

"One last dinner, or I won’t sign shit", she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. Her words were laced with a challenge, pushing the boundaries once again. Jensen’s jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he stared at her.

She wasn’t done. “Besides”, she continued, her voice dripping with bitterness, “the kids are waiting for you at the hotel. JJ’s been missing you, Jensen. They flew all the way here just to get a glimpse of their dad. So, how about you go to dinner with me? Head to my hotel afterward and spend some time with your damn kids, like a fucking dad should”.

Jensen’s fists tightened at his sides, his breath hitching as he tried to rein in his emotions. He hated how she twisted everything, using the kids as leverage, as if the only way to be a good father was to play along with her games. His relationship with his children had never been in question—he knew how much they loved him, how much he loved them—but the guilt she piled on, as though he wasn’t already stretched to his limits, weighed heavily.

His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice low but steady. “Don’t bring the kids into this, Danneel. You know damn well I want to see them. But I won’t play these games with you. This isn’t about dinner. It’s not about us. It’s about doing what’s right for them, and this stalling—it’s hurting them more than you realize”.

Danneel rolled her eyes, her arms still crossed as she leaned back slightly, as if daring him to push back. “I’m not stalling”, she snapped. “I’m making sure we get this right. Maybe you’ve moved on, but this is still my life too. One dinner, Jensen, that’s all I’m asking. And then maybe I’ll sign those papers”.

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with unresolved tension. Jensen could feel the anger bubbling beneath his skin, but he couldn’t let it take control. He needed to stay focused—for the kids, for his sanity, for the life he was trying to build with you.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair again, trying to find the right words. “Fine”, he finally said, the word clipped as it left his mouth. “Dinner. But this is it, Danneel. After tonight, I want those papers signed, and I want this over”.

Danneel’s smirk returned, but it was small, more of a flicker of triumph in her eyes than anything else. She nodded, satisfied for now. “Good”, she said, her voice softening just slightly. “Pick me up at 7. And after dinner, you can spend time with the kids. They’ve been waiting for you”.

Jensen stared at her for a long moment before nodding stiffly. “I’ll be there”. His tone was cold, distant, and it made Danneel pause for a second, as if realizing how far things had spiraled between them.

Without another word, she turned and left the green room, leaving Jensen standing alone, the weight of the conversation still heavy in the air. He let out a long, frustrated breath, his hands resting on his hips as he tried to clear his head.

He thought about you—about how he couldn’t wait to get out of this mess and just be with you, where things made sense. But for now, he had to get through tonight. One last dinner, one last play at control from Danneel. And then, maybe, the papers would finally be signed, and this chapter of his life could close for good.

Jensen stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over him. He didn’t want to make the same mistake as last time—keeping you in the dark and leaving you wondering where he was or why things had changed at the last minute. He’d promised to be better, more open with you, and right now, that meant being honest about the change in plans.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and started typing a message to you:

Jensen: Hey, something came up with Danneel. She’s pushing for one last dinner to talk about the divorce details and the kids. I agreed because I need to get her to sign those papers. I’m sorry. I wanted us to have tonight together, but I’ll have to meet her for dinner first.

He paused, staring at the screen. He hated this. Hated that he was constantly having to juggle things between his past and his future with you. But he knew it was necessary for now. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he added:

Jensen: I don’t want you to spend the night alone though. I´ll ask Jared and Misha to grab dinner with you instead. At least that way you won’t be stuck waiting around for me. I’ll join you after, I promise.

He hit send and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he stared at the message. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best he could do given the circumstances.

The buzz of his phone broke his thoughts. It was you.

You: Thanks for letting me know. It’s okay. I get it. Do what you need to do with Danneel and the kids. I’ll have dinner with Jared and Misha—should be fun. You: Just… don’t let her push you around too much, okay?

Jensen smiled at the text, feeling the warmth of your words even though this situation was far from ideal. You always knew what to say to keep him grounded.

Jensen: I won’t. It’s just for the kids. After tonight, it’ll be done. Jensen: I’ll see you later, okay?

Another buzz.

You: Okay. Good luck. I’ll be here when you’re done.

Jensen let out a breath of relief, slipping his phone back into his pocket. You were so understanding, even when things like this kept coming up.

Dinner with Danneel was exactly what Jensen expected—tense, uncomfortable, and full of sharp remarks wrapped in forced smiles. They had settled into a quiet corner of the restaurant, away from prying eyes, but the air between them was far from private. It was a battlefield of past emotions and unresolved issues, most of which Danneel wasn’t willing to let go of just yet.

Between serious conversations about custody arrangements and splitting their assets, Danneel kept slipping in barbed comments, as if testing him, pushing his patience.

“You’re really going through with selling the house in Fairfield, then?”, she asked, taking a sip of her wine, her eyes scanning his face. “I thought maybe you’d want to keep it for the kids”.

Jensen sighed, trying to keep his frustration in check. “We’ve been over this, Danneel. It’s too big. The kids don’t need all that space… especially when they’re splitting time between us. Selling it is the right move”.

Danneel shrugged, leaning back in her chair, her tone laced with bitterness. “So, where are you planning on moving, then? You always hated the idea of going back to LA, so what’s the plan now that we’re done? Going to shack up with your new girlfriend somewhere quiet and cozy?”.

Her words were sharp, but Jensen didn’t take the bait. He simply placed his fork down and met her gaze with a steady look. “I’m not discussing my personal life with you, Danneel. That’s not what tonight is about. We’re here to talk about the kids and the logistics of moving forward”.

She let out a short, mocking laugh, shaking her head. “Right, because you’ve always been so great at separating business from personal”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to argue with her, not tonight, not when they were so close to finalizing everything. But her constant jabs were getting harder to ignore.

“I haven’t decided where I’ll move yet”, Jensen said, his voice level, “but wherever it is, it’ll be somewhere the kids can feel at home. That’s my priority”.

Danneel rolled her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. “Just make sure it’s close enough so they don’t feel like they’re being shuffled back and forth between two completely different worlds, Jensen. They’re already going through enough as it is”.

Jensen took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “I know that, Danneel. I’m not going to make it harder on them. I want them to feel settled, wherever they are”.

She studied him for a moment, her expression softening just a bit. “So, where is it? Where are you thinking of going?”.

Jensen hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much, especially about his plans to possibly settle back in Austin. He didn’t owe her that information, not anymore. “I’m looking into a few options. What matters is that the kids are comfortable and have a stable home life”.

Danneel leaned back again, swirling her wine in the glass as she stared at him. “You used to talk about wanting something simple, somewhere quiet. You never liked all the glitz and chaos of LA”.

Jensen sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he considered the complicated mess of his future plans. LA would have been a smart choice—his new show was filming there, and it would make things easier in terms of work. But his heart wasn’t in it, and the thought of being so far from the kids gnawed at him. He couldn’t picture himself raising them in the middle of LA’s chaos. Austin, on the other hand, had always felt more like home. It was where he’d love to go back to, but again, the kids came first.

He glanced at Danneel across the table, her expression still guarded as she waited for his answer. “It depends on where you’re planning to move too”, he mumbled, his voice low but firm. “I want the kids to be close".

Danneel snorted, swirling her wine glass before taking a sip. “Well, I’m definitely getting away from Fairfield”, she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “The housewives there are unbearable. They never liked me, always giving me dirty looks at the school drop-offs or in town. Bunch of stuck-up, judgmental whores”.

Jensen raised an eyebrow at that, biting back a comment. He could easily imagine why the women in Fairfield might not have taken to Danneel—she had a habit of acting superior, especially around women she viewed as competition. It wasn’t lost on him that Danneel had always felt threatened by other women, particularly anyone she thought was prettier or had more attention.

“Can’t imagine why they didn’t like you”, Jensen said dryly, his tone edged with sarcasm. “Maybe it’s the way you always acted like you were better than everyone else”.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with irritation, her jaw tightening as she met his gaze. “I didn’t act like I was better than them”, she snapped defensively. “They just couldn’t handle someone who wasn’t part of their little Stepford wives club. I didn’t fit in, and they hated it”.

Jensen shook his head slightly, trying to keep the conversation from spiraling into another argument. He didn’t want to waste energy on old grudges or her insecurities about other women. “Whatever”, he said.

Danneel rolled her eyes, clearly not interested in letting go of her complaints about Fairfield, but she didn’t push the issue further.

Just then, Danneel smirked over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned back in her chair. “You know”, she started, her voice taking on that teasing lilt that always set Jensen on edge, “maybe I’ll consider Austin again. I kind of miss Steve”.

The name alone made Jensen’s jaw clench, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, taking a slow breath to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. The time when he felt anything toward her other than frustration and disgust was long gone. Any remnants of warmth or affection had been eroded away by years of deception, most of all when it came to Steve.

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he fought to keep his tone steady. “Is that supposed to bother me, Danneel?”, he asked, his voice cool but laced with exhaustion. “Because if you’re trying to get a rise out of me by bringing him up, it’s not going to work”.

Danneel chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Jensen. Don’t pretend you’re above it. I know it bothers you”. She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “It always did”.

It used to, Jensen admitted to himself. Back when he’d discovered the truth about her on-again, off-again thing with Steve, back when they’d still been trying to hold on to the crumbling remnants of their marriage, it had gutted him. Knowing she’d been with someone he once called a friend, while still sharing a life with him, had nearly destroyed him. But now? Now, it didn’t hurt. It just added to the bitterness of everything they’d built falling apart.

He pushed his plate aside, looking her square in the eyes. “The only thing that bothers me, Danneel, is how much you think you can still manipulate people to get under their skin”. His voice was low, controlled, but there was an undeniable edge of steel beneath his words. “But Steve? He doesn’t matter to me. Not anymore. You don’t get to hold that over my head. Not anymore”.

Her smirk faltered for just a second, a flicker of something—surprise, maybe—that crossed her face before she quickly masked it with her usual bravado. “Whatever you say, Jensen”, she muttered, waving her hand dismissively, but the bite in her tone had softened.

Jensen leaned back in his chair, adopting a nonchalant expression as he considered Danneel's suggestion about Austin. On the surface, he played it cool, but deep down, the idea of her moving back to Texas stirred something inside him. If they were both in Austin, it would simplify things, especially when it came to co-parenting and staying close to the kids. But he couldn’t show that. The last thing he wanted was to give Danneel the sense that she held any more kind of power over him. If she knew how much this could work in his favor, she’d play him, twist it to her advantage.

“I mean, Austin could work for me too”, he said casually, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. His voice remained steady, deliberately unbothered.

Danneel’s eyes flickered with interest as she studied him. Jensen could practically see the gears turning in her head, but he kept his expression neutral, not giving her an inch more than necessary. He could already tell she was weighing her options, figuring out how best to position herself. If she thought for even a second that moving back to Austin was something he really wanted, she’d find a way to turn it into something that benefited her more than the kids.

“Yeah, Austin has its perks”, Danneel said, swirling her wine with a little smirk. “But I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about Dallas too. Bigger city, more opportunities”.

Jensen suppressed an eye roll. Dallas would be fine too—at least it was close.

“I’m sure Dallas has plenty of good options for you”, Jensen replied smoothly, his tone indifferent. “As long as it’s not on the other side of the country, it works. The important thing is that the kids feel settled and have both of us close by”.

Danneel took another sip of her wine, narrowing her eyes slightly, as if trying to figure out where Jensen really stood on the matter. She could sense that he was playing it cool, but she couldn’t quite pin him down, and that was exactly what Jensen wanted.

“So, you wouldn’t mind us both being back in Austin?”, Danneel asked, her tone laced with curiosity, perhaps even skepticism.

Jensen shrugged again, taking a sip of his water before answering. “Austin’s big enough for both of us, Danneel. It’s not like we’ll be running into each other every day. And like I said, it’s about the kids. It’s the most practical option”.

“Well, we’ll see”, Danneel said, her voice softening a little as she finally let go of her playful teasing. “Wherever I end up, I’ll make sure it works for the kids. I want them to feel settled too”.

Jensen nodded, relieved that, for once, they seemed to be on the same page about something. “Good. That’s all I’m asking for”.

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them easing slightly as they both seemed to accept the reality of the situation. The bickering, the games—it all needed to end. For the kids. For themselves. The sooner the papers were signed and these decisions were made, the sooner they could both move on.

But as the dinner wound down and they both prepared to leave, Jensen couldn’t shake the lingering thought that Danneel wasn’t done with her power plays just yet. He knew her too well. She’d find another way to push his buttons before all was said and done.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #his true fate

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mellowwillowy · 2 days ago

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Happiest Night for you

You could never beat Jade and Floyd's speed in congratulating each other mainly because they were always together a second before the clock struck twelve. On their 18th birthday, you decided to give them a surprise so that you could congratulate them faster before they could.

Hiding inside Floyd's closet mainly because all his shirts had been thrown onto the bed thus reducing the chance he would open it, you peeked at the clock on your phone and it showed 23:48.

Their bedroom door opened and you couldn't hear Floyd's noisy footsteps at all.

23:49. Azul opened Floyd's closet and you almost shot the confetti popper on his face.

"Azul--?!"

"Woah, what are you doing here?"

23:50. The two of you heard Floyd's noisy footsteps and assumed the two of them came back from the kitchen. You pulled Azul into the closet and closed it.

You could smell Azul's fragrance, it smelled awfully sweet tonight unlike the usual perfume he doused or the bath care he had. The brothers entered their bedroom and Floyd immediately leaped into his bed.

23:51. You and Azul looked at each other while he tried to cast a spell to hide your presence and his. You saw his pen lit up and he gestured to you that it was all okay already.

"I have cast a spell to ensure no one else could hear us."

"What are you doing here, Zuzu?"

Azul took out what seemed to be a confetti popper.

"To give them a heart attack."

23:52. Jade walked toward Floyd's side and you thought your heart was about to fall out when Jade stood near his closet. The two of them chatted about simple things like what they'd like to have for lunch tomorrow.

"Will you feed them yourself, Zuzu?"

"Not a chance, I'm not giving them my arms."

23:54. Jade sat on Floyd's bed and talked about his fascination with mushrooms again. Floyd seemed to be so over it already. Jade changed the topic to his terrarium.

"Aren't you fascinated by how beautiful a maintained terrarium is, Floyd?"

You checked your phone for the time again. 23:55. Azul looked at it and sighed, patiently waiting for another five minutes while the two of you listened to their mindless chattering.

"I would if the thing living inside the terrarium is sis~"

23:56. You giggled at what seemed to be Floyd's innocent remark yet Azul's eyebrows seemed to have twitched unpleasantly.

"Well, maybe we could do it though it wouldn't really be a terrarium anymore since the size had been scaled upward."

"So like a cage now?" You asked Azul. Azul only shrugged.

"Yeah, like a cage!"

23:57. You cocked your head to the side questioningly. Azul sighed and nodded, "Yes, a cage."

"But we have to make sure Sister lives comfortably regarding the limited space we only allow her to live in," Jade answered Floyd's innocent question yet his voice sounded so serious in your ears. It's hard to differentiate people's intentions in their voice but you grew used to it and could learn the difference.

23:58. Jade didn't seem to be joking around and you realized that Floyd might not be as well. You looked up toward Azul with a confused groggy face.

"A bit embarrassed to eavesdrop on their conversation now, Sister?"

"The boys never change huh? They love to treat others as their plaything..."

Suddenly Floyd's voice cut the impending silence and your drumming heartbeat,

"But Sis is not my toy, she's my number one love~"

You didn't even bother to check your phone anymore. Azul's eyes remained glued to your unreadable face. You stayed still for a moment before you decided to open the closet.

23:59.

Jade and Floyd were standing right in front of the closet, towering your bending figure. There were festivities in their face but it wasn't their excitement regarding their birthday party Mostro Lounge would be throwing that evening.

It was still too soon to congratulate them so you didn't pop the confetti popper. Azul remained in the closet and watched from behind.

"Siiis~, why were you hiding in my closet?"

Floyd wanted to hug you but your flinching caused him to stop abruptly. Jade's smile did not reach his eyes but it soon would when the clock struck 00:00.

From the corner of your eyes, you looked at Azul. Azul didn't show any concern despite having the plan soiled already. What plan was he even in? Surprising you or surprising the Leech brothers?

"Were you perhaps trying to surprise us when the clock strikes-"

00:00.

You popped the confetti popper right in their face and dashed toward the door. Unfortunately, the door had been locked and you could only try to catch others' attention. You slammed your fists on the door and yelled atop your lungs in the hope that someone else could hear you.

Jade's hand slowly retracted yours from hurting it any further, "You missed the chance to beat us again this year, Sister."

You couldn't hear anyone approaching their room, was it because they were being ignorant or was there a barrier that separated you from the others?

00:01.

Floyd muffled your choked sobs and pleas with his hand. You heard Azul muttered an apology. You saw Jade's smile finally reach his eyes.

#Jade Leech x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Yandere Jade Leech #Yandere Floyd Leech #Yandere Azul Ashengrotto #TWST #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere TWST #Happy Birthday my Leechesssss

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 2 days ago

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Blood binding and Sauron’s intentions

My pal @rey-jake-therapist and I were in one of our usual friendly discussions about this topic in one of her posts, but since the theme digresses so much from her original intent and I’m pretty much spamming her OG post by now, we decided to move the debate to here, and invite the fandom to join in.

As customary, Rey always presents good and challenging counter-arguments to mine. Because it's possible to disagree and keep it civil and friendly. This is good fandom etiquette, and this is the point of debates, after all: sharing different ideas and perspectives on the same topic. We usually end up agreeing on disagreeing and it’s all good in the end.

What were Sauron’s intentions and goals in stabbing Galadriel with Morgoth’s crown in 2x08?

2x01 / 2x08 parallels: “Only blood can bind.” (Adar; 1x05)

1) Binding/Enslaving Galadriel to his Will

Rey made the case for Sauron’s intention of possessing and dominating Galadriel using Morgoth’s crown. And that we should focus on present intentions, and not lose yourselves in “what if” scenarios (with this I totally agree, so, let's focus on the present time).

This theory states that Sauron wanted to enslave Galadriel to his will, by having her handing over Nenya, in submission. This would explain why Galadriel seemed “bewitched” while removing Nenya from her finger, and almost surrendering it to him.

This means Sauron has “outgrown” his intentions from 1x08, when he wanted to serve Galadriel (due to his Maia nature; he was created to be a servant to a Vala). Now, he wants full power, and he’s not willing to share it with anyone else (Galadriel included):

Sauron only wants to dominate/possess Galadriel now: she humiliated him when she refused him in 1x08, he developed an obsession for her, so he punished her with physical pain (the stabbing), and attempted to possess her so she would follow him.

And so, if blood binding theory is true, this would work like the Nine and the Nazgûl, with Galadriel not only being a servant, but a slave to Sauron. This theory can also imply she would have, indeed, become a Ringwraith herself, as her soul was entering the Unseen world (“Shadow realm”) when Gil-galad and Arondir found her.

This is a very strong theory, and I think many fellow fans share this view, as well. Would it pass Sauron to do something like this? Absolutely not, and it would not be OCC for him to have this intention, at all.

So what’s my problem, you might ask?

This facial expression right here:

Unless Charlie was having a case of fatigue eyes due to extensive use of contact lenses (speaking from personal experience), there’s no explanation for Sauron getting all teared up when he believed Galadriel was about to join him, if his intention was to enslave her to his will, and that’s what he was doing here.

And no, Galadriel can’t deceive him. This is underestimating Sauron’s power: he’s the “great deceiver”, and only he can deceive himself, really. And if they are, indeed, blood bound, Galadriel couldn’t possibly hide anything from him. And I already made the case for how Galadriel was about to join him, freely, in another post.

2) “You bind me to the light, I bind you to power”

Speaking of Sauron’s intentions, we need to remember the creator of this character and what he says about him. Tolkien tells us (in Letters 131, 153 and 183) that “Annatar” still has “fair motives”: he’s a reformer who, truly, wants to rebuild/heal Middle-earth, and he’s genuine in this endeavor (nevermind his methods, that’s why he’s a villain). Rey counter-argumented this does not translate in a desire to serve Galadriel, and she’s correct.

However, what was his intention in 1x08?

And if Sauron still has a genuine concern in healing Middle-earth, what if his intention with Morgoth’s crown was giving Galadriel his power, while harvesting her light for himself, just like he wanted in 1x08? And if this was his intention, why would he keep her soul “trapped” in the Unseen world? What if he wanted to make her queen of the Seen and Unseen world? Not a mere queen of Middle-earth, but as nearly as possible to a literal Goddess he could serve?

Because Sauron/Mairon can’t escape his nature, he was created to be a servant, a Maia to a Vala. And, right now, he doesn’t want to serve Morgoth. Even though he does it, unconsciously, and perhaps he recognized this after he killed Celebrimbor in a rage fit (something that’s completely OCC for him, because that’s not who he is; Sauron is a control freak, a mastermind).

This scene with Galadriel happened after that; and Sauron cried because, when he looked up at Celebrimbor, all he could see was Morgoth’s bounds on him reaching the surface. And that chaotic destruction is Morgoth, not Sauron. And he doesn't want that at this point on his character arc in Tolkien lore. I think this is when Sauron makes the decision to bind himself to Galadriel, one way or the other.

I absolutely disagree with the idea that Sauron stabbed Galadriel to punish her or kill her: if that was his true intention he would have used Morgoth sword (he was already using it in his duel with Galadriel the entire time), not a powerful dark magic object infused with own blood (because Adar used it to destroy his previous physical form), nor he would have carried that thing around the entire time while mentioning "binding" twice (“I never believed I could be... Until today. Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...” (1x06); “The door is still open”).

“Binding” (usually connected with “blood oaths”) and “enslaving” are two different kinds of blood magic. Because the Nine rings of power are pieces of jewelry meant to be worn by ring-bearers, with a small dosage of Sauron’s blood (along with other specific spells). Morgoth’s crown not only has a lot of Sauron’s blood on it, but we also don’t know what kind of dark magic it actually contains: we only know it was made to hold the Silmarils and it can destroy Sauron’s physical form (implying that, maybe, Sauron doesn’t have much control over this object?).

Sauron accidentally sharing his power with Galadriel is nonsense to me, as well. He's ancient, has been around since before the world existed (he helped create that very world), has been a master in blood magic and every sort of sorcery for thousands of years, and he’s one of the most powerful Maia in existence, but isn’t aware he would be giving Galadriel some of his power by binding himself to her? When he clearly mentions this in 1x08? "I bind you to power". Because Galadriel appears to be seeing the world in a whole new way in 2x08 epilogue (and even her eyes look off):

Besides, Galadriel is suppose to be a powerful sorceress of her own right in Tolkien lore, mastering several powers. In the legendarium Galadriel own power was amplified by Nenya, yes, but this isn’t the case in “Rings of Power”, because we haven’t seen her displaying any magical powers in Season 1. She won’t have any other powers in the show (besides healing and foresight/visions), completely cutting off with Tolkien legendarium? If the show keeps it true to the lore on that bit, where did her powers (look into others’ hearts and minds, and communicate telepathically) come from? Will they “magically” appear out of nowhere? When and how? But, if these powers came from Sauron it’s because he wanted it to happen, and that was his intention. And if that was his intention, what was his purpose with this if not to serve her?

And Sauron does share power: he does share his power with those he wants to enslave; via the rings of power. That’s why Celebrimbor tells him he’s their prisoner, and not their master. However, these are two very different kinds and degrees of magic. Because with the rings ("enslave") he can control how he wants it to go; while sharing his actual power with another living being ("blood oath") is uncontrollable. He can’t possible know the end result of it.

I know there’s a popular theory that Adar was blood bound to Sauron, but I don’t think so. Adar not only doesn't have any magical powers, but he wouldn’t be able to kill Sauron himself, if that was true. Blood binding is a blood oath, and it’s forever, unbreakable, and it prevents beings from harming or acting against one another (physically) in any direct way. That’s why “Rings of Power” introduced the clue that Sauron might be blood bound to Morgoth in 1x03; and that’s the reason he could never leave nor forsake his master even when he came to resent him.

This means, that, in "Rings of Power", Sauron, most likely, only has Morgoth as a reference to blood oaths. And he probably thinks this will go the same way with Galadriel, and he’ll keep her light to himself, allowing him to keep Morgoth at bay. Only her “light” is merely aesthetic, really. The light that shines on her hair and eyes is the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, and it shines on every Elf that was born during the Years of the Trees (and not only her). Because Galadriel is a complex and nuanced character, and ticking bomb that can turn dark at any minute.

#saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #galadriel trop #sauron trop

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shuastar · 15 hours ago

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ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (JWW)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 8.2k (swear it doesnt get any shorter....) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴏᴍɢ ɪ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀɢᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ㅠㅠ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ 1ꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ (ʟᴏɴɢ) ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ,,, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3 ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2)

The honeyed spring air only proved to prod at your deep, growing, carnal fury at the scene in front of you. The wooden stilts of your fan dug further and further into the expensive lace of your thin sheer gloves, leaving bright red lines in its wake. As you stared at the traitorous scene in front of you, you felt as if your entire being was thrown into a wall.

You should’ve known, really, that it was going to end like this. You should’ve known when the greasy money-tainted rat of your soon-to-be ex-fiance crawled out of his cave and to the royal palace, rubbing his hands together in faux prayer as he asked about your dowry. You were sure Seungcheol told him too – all fifteen million won of it. You could imagine how Lord Paree’s eyes would have seen the backs of his skull at the number — how he probably left the gilded royal palace in sheer bliss at the thought of receiving the monetary sum of three city estates just for a single marriage. Maggot, you thought, nails almost digging through the lace. Money-drunken parasite.

A high-pitched dolphin giggle and a snap! of a fan slapped you out of your red-seeing stupor.

Right. Yes.

Dealing with (yet another) failed engagement was more important than the consequences that would follow. You could almost hear the concerned jabberings of Seungcheol, fur-wrapped on his stupid golden throne in the palace, as you stood in front of him.

“Your highness, you aren’t married either,” you would point out, like you always do.

Seungcheol would sigh and pout, “I know, y/n. That seems to be the problem.” Then, he would scan you up and down before clapping, jumping out of his throne and meandering his way down to where you were standing with a grin. “What kind of guardian,” he offered you his arm as he led you out of the throne room, “would I be if I got married before I saw you get married?” He pinched your cheek lightly, letting out a loud laugh at your severely disgruntled expression. “Don’t you agree, Duchess Park?”

You would close your eyes with a long sigh, pretending like this conversation wasn’t one of Seungcheol’s only topics of interest since her debut into Society. “Of course, your highness,” you would mumble, muttering a few more colorful adjectives under your breath as you were led unwillingly to your fifth courtship date request of the month.

If you knew then that your fourth engagement – in one and a half years, mind you – would end up shattered shambles yet again, you wouldn’t have even let Seungcheol drag you to the royal garden’s mezzanine for afternoon tea with that bastard in the first place.

Really, you weren’t quite sure whether you were more angry at the fact that the idle-headed useless block of skin tissue or at the all gracious, ever-knowing royal highness for setting you two up together in a future cheating scandal. That was true. Yet fucking again.

You were so tired of snatching the tea pot off of the wire-frame tables and throwing it at the girl (like it was the poor lady’s fault) before bitch-slapping your ex fiance with as much malice as you could muster at the time. Genuinely. You were so sick of walking into the next ball with no one by your side, save your secretary and personal guard, yet again. You were going to throw up if you heard your name with the words cheating, scandal, and shame in a Society gathering again. But most importantly, you were so sick of the look he would give you from across the ballroom and during your dances.

“I heard about you and Lord Paree.”

A step into a waltz.

“So has the rest of the fucking country, apparently.”

A stifled cough let out due to your unexpectedly colorful language.

“I wouldn’t say the entire nation, y/n.”

“Hm, I fear I will have to disagree, your grace, as I heard even Duke Hong’s footmen murmur among themselves regarding my unfortunate turn of events.”

A falter in his soft smile.

“Forget him. I’ve always thought of him as an undeserving bastard anyways.”

You laugh, head thrown back – the most joyous you have been since last week.

“Shall I be glad that you’ve thought so, your grace?”

Wonwoo shrugs, twirling you around in tight circles. You feel almost lightheaded from his cologne, mingling in with the gentle puffs of breath from the waltz.

“Think of it however you want,” he hums, dipping you ever so slightly against the sudden base of the cello. You swallow a surprised gasp as his hand, originally on your upper back, dips dangerously low – for a moment, sitting gently against the hem of your corset.

The two of you come to a halt near the edge of the ballroom floor. You hate how you can feel a flush coming on the apples of your cheeks the longer Wonwoo stares at you, an odd mixture of pity and something else swimming in his eyes behind the metal-frame glasses.

You bow, one hand on your chest. You know you don’t have to – he is of the same societal position as you. You know you don’t have to, but it feels almost second nature to go low into a curtsy of some kind in front of a man.

“Thank you, your grace, for this dance,” you murmur, lifting your head back up. Wonwoo stays quiet for a good moment, before he blinks.

“Find yourself another date for your second dance, yes? Someone better than that cheating bastard,” he hums. You think he’s about to reach for your gloved hand but his hands stay at his side – the only indicator of movement a slight twitch in his fingers. You force down your disappointment.

Instead, you smile. There is nothing else for you to do, anyways. Seungcheol, although good of heart, would have another engagement for you lined up in no time. And with that, you would need to forget. Forgive and forget. You realize you’ve spent too much time in front of the Archduke’s son when you feel the presence of your guard behind you.

“I will see you soon,” you greet, before you turn and leave. If you had stayed to hear his response, you feel like you would have stayed with Wonwoo for the entire night. And that was not very ladylike.

Wonwoo

“Wonwoo, one day you’re going to have to live for something else.”

Seungcheol’s breaths came out in heaving pants as the two took a brief break from their sparring session in the royal palace’s courtyard.

Wonwoo just raised a brow, wiping sweat off of his brow with his discarded shirt. “What do you mean by that, your majesty?”

Seungcheol waved away the title. “Drop the pretense, friend. What I mean is,” Seungcheol dropped his empty water jug on the wooden bench, before bringing his sword up to his face, “one day you’re gonna realize you have more to live for than just this.” Seungcheol gestured vaguely towards the desolate sparring grounds.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing dusts of sand off of his glinting blade. His fingers flexed on the leather grip. “I don’t live for just this, Coups. I know my responsibilities more than you think I do,” he sighed.

Seungcheol raised a questioning brow, stepping back into the sparring grounds with a twirl of his sword. “You sure?” his voice echoed, which was followed by unfamiliar click-clacks of a woman’s heels. Seungcheol cocked his head and grinned, canines showing, as he squatted down low, flicking his fingers at Wonwoo. “Then why are you asking to go out to fight? You might die.”

Wonwoo cracked his neck before running at the young king, Their swords clashed in the middle of the sparring grounds, flickers of their manas bursting outwards. Smoky tendrils of black gravitated and fogged the ground near Wonwoo’s feet, curling themselves around his chest and slowly inching up his neck, before blending in with his hair.

Wonwoo grunted in exertion, pushing Seungcheol back with the help of his mana. The king slammed into the back wall before landing back on his feet. Wonwoo stood over him, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples and his mana curled itself around his bare arms, against the contours of the muscles that laid there.

“It is the only thing I am good for,” Wonwoo stated. His words came out soft, almost a whisper, as his hand stretched out towards Seungcheol.

Seungcheol took a second more in his position, staring into Wonwoo’s despairing eyes. The dark browns looked more conflicted than Seungcheol had ever known. His own eyes darted towards the figure that stood in the opening archway of the courtyard. He could barely make out the face, under the layers of shadows, but he knew. He had called her here anyway. Not here as in the courtyard but here as in the palace. It was though, of course, purely coincidental that she had walked to the courtyard of her own volition.

Seungcheol grasped Wonwoo’s hand, hauling himself off of the sandy ground.

“You’re willing to leave your duchy? Your Society life?” Seungcheol stood in front of Wonwoo with his sword at his side. He gave the young archduke a knowing look. “Even the duchess?”

Wonwoo stiffened at Seungcheol’s ending words, his hand stilling, hovering the tip of his sword at the entrance of its sheath. He swallowed. The sword dropped with a loud CLANG into its home in the sheath. He looked up at the king, who looked almost expectant.

“Yes,” was his answer. He straightened, brushing sweaty strands of his black hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

Before Seungcheol, with furrowed brows and disappointment flurrying in his eyes, could open his mouth, a quiet scoff rang out, ripping the silence between the two men into shreds.

Wonwoo’s head snapped to the archway where the sound had echoed from, fingers curling around the grip of his sword. His other arm pushed Seungcheol behind him, which earned him a noise of protest from the older man.

“Won-”

“There’s someone there,” was what Wonwoo said, before he stepped closer, into the shadows of the archway. The face that met him left him unable to breathe – as if his lungs had been squeezed out of oxygen from the inside; as if his entire being was wringed; as if someone had, one by one, cut the tendons of his muscles, rendering him absolutely useless.

“I have been delusioned,” a cold, shaking voice started, “of our relationship, your grace.” You bowed deeply, silken hair falling over your shoulders, petals of the flowers in your hair dancing in the soft breeze, hand tight-fisted on your chest. “I ask for your apology in my,” a deafening pause, “assuming nature.”

BANG

The sword fell out of Wonwoo’s limp hand. He rushed forward, almost tripping over his own feet and forgetting his look of indecency, leaving Seungcheol long forgotten in the edges of the sparring grounds.

“Y/n,” he breathed, hands gently holding your upper arms. “Y/n, you misunderstand,” he hurried, forcing you to stand properly. The sight afterwards almost made him wish he let you stay in your bow.

Your crystalline eyes were glassy and he could make out the glistening pools of unshed tears that poked against your charcoal waterline. Your lips stretched thin over your teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile. But he knew you better than that – he knew more than half of the emotions that swirled behind your watery eyes and he knew what the tremblings of the corners of your lips meant. What it meant for you, for him, for the two of you.

You shook your head, shuffling back against the rough grounds. A small laugh escaped your mouth. Your glossy pink lips curled up in a practiced smile – too robotic, too mirror-practiced, too Society for him to comprehend. It sent his mind reeling. It sent his mind reeling because you had heard what he shouldn’t have said. Because he was so used to seeing your dimpled smile in his embrace.

“No,” you responded, pushing his hands off of your lace-covered arms with trembling fingers. Your touch was soft but firm – a boundary that was unfamiliar in his realm. “I apologize for intruding, your grace, your highness,” another bow – this time at Seungcheol, who just waved her off from his position picking up the strewn wooden swords, “I will take my leave now.”

A noncommittal noise rose from the back of Wonwoo’s throat and his hand wrapped around your wrist habitually, only to be shaken off without a single backwards look and a shuddering sigh as you walked away, head held high and hands shaking by your side.

Wonwoo wasn’t stupid. He knew when to take a hint.

“I’m not sure if you started a problem or made an existing problem worse.”

Wonwoo shot a glare towards Seungcheol. “Thank you for your wise words, your highness. They are so helpful in my current situation,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Seungcheol sighed, shrugging as he dumped the wooden swords inside of a crate. “Look at it this way,” he pointed out, “now you are free to go do your battling. Without any ties.”

Seungcheol handed Wonwoo his discarded sword, eyebrows raised.

“Right?”

Wonwoo gave him no answer, only staring at your shadowed retreating form that walked now in the sunlight past the archway. He only stared as you, with a curt nod to a footman, entered the main palace halls again.

“Wonwoo?” Seungcheol repeated. “You there?”

Wonwoo blindly nodded, fidgeting with the loose ends of his sheath. “Yes. Yes, maybe,” was his vague answer, mumbled softly under his breath. And all through Seungcheol’s next set of rants about Society politics and the ongoing problems around the Northern border of Obella, the only thing Wonwoo could think of was the alien tightening of his chest – so much so that his lungs felt off and his heart hurt to breathe.

Wonwoo was sick and tired of the stench of blood and rusting iron. He was sick and tired of the habitual curl of his fingers around the hilt of his battle-worn sword at every small crack in the woods. And he was sick and tired of being away – away from the Capitol, away from his duchy, away from her.

So when, one morning, his best friend and commanding officer Soonyoung, came into his tent with a cream-colored envelope with a familiar crest stamped on the front, it felt like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

His tent flap fluttered as a head of blonde ducked in Wonwoo’s sleep tent.

“Guess what a little birdie flew in with this pleasantly fine morning?” Soonyoung grinned, leaning against one of the poles of the tent, arms crossed.

Wonwoo looked up from his place sitting on his chair, sharpening his sword. His glasses hung low on his nose and his naked back rippled with aching muscles. He deadpanned, recognizing the crest as the royal crest. “What?” he hummed, standing up and setting his sword and whetting stone down. “Another commission from our dear king?” he scoffed, unwilling bitterness seeping into his words.

Of course, he did not blame King Seungcheol for his current predicament. Actually, he did, just a little bit. But of course, not all of the situation. Around three fifths was because of himself – because he was greedy and ambitious and begged to be sent to the National Academy and rose to the top of his Weapons class. It was his fault, was what he told himself, that he was on his third year out in the battlefields in the north, fighting the royal battles for a king that presented himself to be one of Wonwoo’s closest friends. Of course an inconspicuous bitterness would form.

Hoshi laughed, his own bare torso glinting in the early morning sunlight. He handed Wonwoo the letter. “Oh, you wish, Wonwoo,” Hoshi said, clapping his friend on the back. He squeezed as Wonwoo’s eyes skimmed over its contents. He could almost feel Hoshi’s smile from behind him.

“Congratulations, my friend,” Hoshi laughed, “You have officially been reinvited to Society!”

Wonwoo’s face crumpled into an off mixture of disappointment, relief, and boredom. Society? That was what Seungcheol was pulling him out of these battles for? Out of everything, Society?

“Society?” he scoffed. The hollow, fakeness of The Capitol’s Society was what awaited him outside of the violent woods? His fingers tightened on the thick parchment.

The fact that it was Society wasn’t the aspect that pissed him off down to his bones. It was the fact that Seungcheol knew why he gave up Society to begin with.

Suddenly, Hoshi’s squinted eyes filled Wonwoo’s vision. His blonde-bleached eyebrows were furrowed on his face. “Why do I feel like you’re not happy to be going back?”

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his eyes closing ever so slightly. His chest felt tight. “Because, Hoshi,” he grumbled, ripping up the letter and tossing it into his lantern flame, “I fucking hate Society.”

Wonwoo watched as the tattered pieces of the ripped parchment crumble into the orange-red flames. It was his fault, he guessed. Going back to Society, to the Capitol, was something he knew he had to face, once his reign among the knights was over. Three years, even for a man like him, was a long time to not show your face even once in a public Society event. He guessed this was Seungcheol’s passive reminder: get to your duties. He could almost hear it in his head.

Hoshi shook his head in faux disappointment, tsking. “Thought you knew better than that, Archduke Jeon. You nobility need to perform part of your duties, after all.” Hoshi’s grin makes Wonwoo’s lips stretch into a slight smile. “What? Has the battlefield ridden you of your noble blood, your grace?” Hoshi asked with an eyebrow raise.

Wonwoo just shook his head with a small smile and a sigh. But he couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being called an archduke. Being called your grace. Those were titles he was used to seeing his father carry – his father, who was a charismatic ruler, his father, who loved deeply and truly, and his father, who lay cold and lifeless in the Jeon Family cemetery next to his mother for two years.

Hoshi was not wrong, he knew. He knew there would be a time he would have to return to the very thing he hated the most about staying in the Capitol, about being a noble; whether or not he returned by his own volition was the question. And apparently Seungcheol had deemed three years, three years too much. The churning in his stomach could not be described as anything else but uncertainty.

As Hoshi talked animatedly, with flailing arms, about the night before, when the soldiers had broken out crates of rum and beer to celebrate the strengthening of the Northern borders from the “evil spirits,” as they had called them, Wonwoo stared into the crackling lantern flame. If he returned to Society, as per the royal decree and as per his friend’s request, he would have to face the portraits that hung on his Capitol estate’s portrait hall. He would have to walk through the halls of his own home that had once been full of deeper, older, wiser, laughter of his parents without them. He would have to face the claustrophobia-inducing, over crowded ballrooms of the private high society gatherings, attend meaningless hunting outings, and present himself to the greater nobility public like some sort of relic or trophy to be garnished with wreaths and golden medals of bravery after the three year battle.

But, of course, that was not all of the Society he had left behind. He had left behind a deeper, lovelier Society as well. Something – someone, he should say – that if he had any say in, he would keep hidden in the deepest parts of his heart. Someone, if he returned, who would – no, could – never be his again. She was not someone who waited around – especially if they had left like he did.

But perhaps…

No.

No, no, no.

He shook his head.

He could not bring his hopes up for nothing. He had a duty – to his duchy, to his family, to the legacy his father left behind, and to his country.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Wonwoo mumbles. Mostly to himself, yet Hoshi quietens in his rant at his friend’s words.

Hoshi drags a wooden chair over, swinging his legs around it to sit – chest against its back. “For Society or…” Hoshi does not need to finish his question for Wonwoo to understand. It is implied, as it always had been between the two of them.

Wonwoo sighed, burying his head in his hands. The balls of his palm rub into his battle-weary eyes. “For everything. My responsibilities, Society, the entry celebrations, and…” Now Wonwoo poses the discarded ending. Hoshi knows, he decides for himself. He knows already. Wonwoo could tell from his knowing glance out the tent flap.

“You’ve had responsibilities out on the battlefield, Woo. I believe your archducal duties are of a similar hierarchy?” Hoshi twirled a quill in his hand. The commander veers out of the way of the silent topic with a quick glance that promises Wonwoo another conversation – preferably over a glass of wine – in another time.

Wonwoo let out a tired laugh. “You jest. I fear my archducal duties far outrank the simple hierarchy of my responsibilities on the battlefield.”

Hoshi shrugged. “It is what you believe, sir.”

“It is what I believe,” Wonwoo murmured to himself. A hand slid down his face as he slouched down in his chair, a tired sigh escaping the battle-worn caverns of his lungs. “Fuck.”

One of King Seungcheol’s infamous re-entry balls was decided to be held in honor of Archduke Jeon returning to the Capitol, signifying his re-entrance into Society’s cluster of feathers and prim-propers from his years in the battlefields.

“Do you know how uncomfortable wearing this cape is?” Wonwoo complains for the fourth time, tugging at the golden lapels that hold the thick fabric to his shoulders. He huffs in apparent annoyance as the golden tips of the royal palace’s towers loom overhead when the carriage rattles to a slow trot and then a stop.

Hoshi, from his seat across Wonwoo, rolls his eyes, his own body decorated with the uniform of the royal knights, and a long gleaming sword hanging off of his hip. “Oh boo hoo,” he mutters, stepping out of the carriage as soon as the door opens. He dusts his white pants with a concluding groan as Wonwoo mutters something under his breath.

“What?” Wonwoo snaps, “When has it changed so that a man cannot simply complain about his uncomfortable and ill-fit dressings for a ball?” Wonwoo retorts. A strand of hair fell in his face as he crossed his arms. His tight military uniform – decorated diligently with captain stars, rings of honor, and golden medals of bravery – strains against his biceps. He stands next to Hoshi, adjusting his formal tie with a displeased wince of discomfort. “I would have much rather preferred-”

“-Wonwoo!” Hoshi interjects, a rough hand coming down harshly against Wonwoo’s back. One look in Hoshi’s eyes and Wonwoo hesitates to finish his sentence. “My friend, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. You look fine,” Hoshi groaned, walking up to the palace doors with Wonwoo in tow. “You should have expected this anyways,” he continues, giving a curt nod to the footmen that open the doors, “This is a ball held in your honor,” a familiar turn into a wider hallway, “Remember?” Hoshi’s neat uniform is pin-straight as he walks down the marbled halls. “And we’re already late. Do you want to get passive aggressively eaten alive by Society the first day back in noble action?” he throws Wonwoo’s way with a quick glance over his shoulder with a teasing grin.

Wonwoo sighs, following Hoshi through the gilded halls of the too-familiar palace. He could almost picture his younger self – five years old – running through the very halls, with Prince Mingyu and (then) Prince Seungcheol hot on his heels, all three of them giggling about something for another. He could picture the two of them, laughing – him with his head thrown back and her with her fan over her pretty pink lips – during the boring parts of each and every palace ball. The gilded palace was gilded – but not just in gold.

y/n

You were very confused.

And confusion never was something any noble wanted during a ball, nevermind the King’s re-entry ball, no matter how close your family’s ties ran.

Of course, you were not confused about who it was for. It was obvious. The Capitol’s newspapers (and most likely every other newspaper business in the nation), had spent the entire past week dedicating their front covers to the headlines that included, but were not limited to, one of the five following words: Archduke, Jeon, Return, Battle, Ball.

It was as if the entirety of noble society had decided to come together for this one re-entry event, which apparently had people jittery at the edges of their seats because the most eligible bachelor of any season, really, was back on the market. The one high noble who could pay off even the most expensive dowries, who could save a breaking family from complete, utter, desolate ruin, whose dark hooded eyes had enticed so many of the daughters from the highest noble classes, was back. He, on orders and grounds unknown, was returning from his three-year-long disappearance from Society and out into the vicious battlefields of the north.

And you were absolutely, jaw-droppingly so confused as to why both King Seungcheol and Prince Mingyu (mostly Seungcheol, though Mingyu posed no help), held you (almost) hostage at their sides, rambling and fluttering on about how you should stay with them until the entrance of the “main character.”

“Your highness, may I ask why?” you ask. Behind your proprietary fan covering the bottom half of your face, your lips curl in distaste. If it was wholly up to you, you would have been in a silken nightgown, getting ready for bed.

“Is brother still holding you here against your will?” Prince Mingyu’s laughing voice reaches your ears. You turn, meeting his broad frame. His one-shoulder cape glints at the top with a pure-gold cap, in dazzling contrast with his cream-white suit. In his hands are two flutes of bubbling champagne. He outstretches his arm, tipping one flute towards you with a grin, canines pushing down against his bottom lip. “For you, my lady,” he teases, slipping the flute into your gloved fingers. He gives you a cheesy wink, before breaking into a dimpled smile.

You roll your eyes, habituated with the prince’s oftentimes off-handed flirty remarks. “You ask that as if you have not been doing the exact same thing, your highness,” you huff, but you don’t reject the champagne flute, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid with a satisfied sigh. You clear your throat before turning to both Mingyu and Seungcheol, who is surveying the crowd. “Now I ask the both of you the same question.”

Mingyu throws an arm around Seungcheol, who stands still, staring at the entrance door to the ballroom with an impatient-tapping foot. “You know why.” He leans his head against Seungcheol, lightly stepping on his older brother’s furious foot with a mutter of maintaining a mask of patience. Seungcheol responds with a simple furrow of his thick eyebrows.

You tilt your head. Mingyu’s lack-luster responses and Seungcheol’s decision to blatantly ignore your words are doing absolutely nothing to quell your curiosity, let alone your confusion.

Usually, if this was like any other royal-hosted ball, Seungcheol would only keep you for a brief moment. That would frequently consist of introductions to any new or unfamiliar royal cabinet members. And then, he would let you go, which usually meant, for you, going to the closest empty table with a chair and sitting down for the rest of the night. At least until you deemed you had spent enough time brooding in peace in your despairing corner, that it was respectable enough towards both you and the royal family, to leave the ball and return to your estate.

Of course, you were not unapproachable. You were born and raised in Society. One of the first classes you remember taking with your grandmother was ballroom dance. Before (or many times during) your brooding solitary peace, either Mingyu, Seungcheol, or Duke Hong would leisurely make their way towards you and offer you your dance of the night.

Those times, when the familiar strings of the orchestra and the notes of the hired singer flowed through the crowded ballroom, you let yourself be guided. After all, it was your job.

“The lady is always supposed to be guided,” your grandmother used to say, “If a man, especially of high standing, does not guide a lady through a simple waltz, he is not a man. He is a coward not ready to face even the simplest of pleasures.”

“Save your first dance, y/n,” Seungcheol suddenly says, turning to her. His words seem oddly like an order, and you would not put it below him for it to actually be an order. His grin matches his younger brother’s. The furs of his dress stick out against his dark hair. And his entire being seems that much more irking in your eyes.

If he has another fucking suitor lined up already, I’ll kill him. To hell with the monarchy.

From next to him, Mingyu chuckles, as if he (they) knew something you did not. Which is usually the case, actually. You need to stop being so surprised.

“Why?” Your nose scrunches. Your fan is forgotten at your sides.

Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head slowly like you’re some under-developed child who could not get the full picture. “You’ll see.”

You snap your fan shut, crossing your arms. “Sometime soon, I hope?” A jolt of pain waves over your ankle, a testament to how long you’ve been standing in one place. You force down your wince.

Mingyu pokes your puffed cheeks with his white-gloved hand and a laugh. “Impatient much, duchess?”

You swat away his hand with a glance. Your head swivels as you say, “I have been waiting with much patience, thank you very much.” A lick of annoyance flickers in you when you catch at least seven pairs of eyes and gossiping mouths staring at you and the royal brothers. “It seems as though the Archduke is late,” you add, glancing at the giant clock on top of the entrance doorway.

Mingyu, now arm over your shoulder, tugs at your dress sleeves. “Awfully interested, aren’t you?” he grinned, a small bout of laughter ensuing at your barely concealed tick of anger. Not only at his words but also at his careless touches. He should be glad all of high society knew of your close family relations, or else his actions would have had dire consequences.

You push him away lightly, flicking your fan open again as you gently fan yourself, covering your mouth. “Awfully not, your highness,” you snap. Mingyu knew not to talk about that. You try to ignore the fact that the wound you had once thought was fully stitched up and closed, still hurts when poked. “If I can-”

BANG

“ANNOUNCING ARCHDUKE JEON AND THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, SIR KWON!” The herald’s voice echoed through the ballroom.

It was as if the entire ballroom was on a brief pause – the gossiping groups of ladies, the loud laughter of the business men, the rolling children, and even the orchestra. The violinists, cellists, and singer all paused, craning their heads to see through the throng of people who awaited the arrival of the main character – the battle-won most eligible bachelor of all the seasons: Archduke Jeon Wonwoo.

And all you wanted to do was to never see his face again.

And of course you prepared yourself. You prepared yourself the moment you had received Seungcheol’s and Mingyu’s separate request letters of your presence at tonight’s ball as part of the royal cabinet. You prepared yourself throughout the time Nai, your maid, rubbed oils into your skin, braided and twisted your silken hair, and pulled your corset tight against your straining ribs. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. The thing that was not born out of your imagination that had severely overworked itself over three years.

Because not only does Wonwoo look the part of the most eligible bachelor, he looks the part of a successful military commander, with his dark military uniform, draping cape, and glinting golden medals. It feels as if the entire ballroom moves towards him, like he has his own gravitational force, as if everyone is attracted to something in the man. You can already see the cliques of the younger ladies fan themselves lightly as their eyes glaze over his wide shoulders and chiseled face. The military uniform does nothing to hide his physique.

Your fan slowly rises to your face.

Your corset feels especially restricting when you see Wonwoo’s sharp eyes scan the ballroom. If this were any other situation, you would find the way Wonwoo leans down briefly to Soonyoung to whisper something with a confused furrow and Soonyoung breaking out into a shit-eating grin and tossing a wink towards the general crowd, exponentially more amusing. That had more fans fanning quickly towards the ladies’ face.

The entire scene reminded you briefly of when you were seventeen, when you had first been introduced to Society, standing almost in the same position as you were currently – next to the two princes who flanked you protectively with crossed arms – and Soongyoung, who was fresh into the Corps of Royal Knights then, and Wonwoo, who had just graduated from the National Academy, striding into your debutante ball late. The small waves and winks Soonyoung sends now towards the various gaggle of young, single ladies of Society reminds you, rather nostalgically, of when you, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu had all spread out in Mingyu’s foyer on a wintry December day, and all you had talked about were the numerous engagement offers Soonyoung was getting from noble families.

“What is this? Your thirteenth?” Seungcheol huffed, looking up briefly from Mingyu’s wide oak desk. He dropped his quill in the golden holder. “You’re gonna take away all the ladies from us at this rate, friend,” he laughed.

You missed, in a small part of your heart, the times when Seungcheol had not been pressed to marry, find his match, continue the legacy. Now, his smile never crinkled his eyes when breeching on the topic of marriage and engagements.

Soonyoung shrugged, legs dangling off of the couch’s arm rest as he flipped through a newspaper from last week. “Don’t know. You can have all of them, if you want, Coups,” he says, looking up from the tiny print. He gives a sideways look towards Mingyu. “And you too. Don’t want any of them. Not right now, anyways.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both grumble about the unfairness of knightly and royal duties as Soonyoung goes off on a separate tangent about the recent addition of a tiger to the park zoo.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Wonwoo and Mingyu exchange an exasperated look. To be honest, you think it’s kind of cute – Soonyoung’s obsession with tigers, that is. It gives the man something childish in him. God knows he’ll need it in the battlefields one day.

Suddenly, from the open window, the winter wind blasts through Mingyu’s parlor, wiping papers off of the low tables and out of your hands.

You shiver, arms crossing around your torso. You rub against your thinly-clothed arms.

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes sheepishly, quickly glancing over at you. “Should’ve closed that thing.”

You wave him off, about to say something, when suddenly, a thick fabric is draped over your bare shoulders. You flinch at the sudden contact on your skin. From in front of you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide, which looks rather comical when you see it in his entire position – upside down, legs spread around the backrest, black hair flapping.

“I told you to close it.” Wonwoo’s tone is almost chastising as he moves from behind you to back to his original spot next to you. He gives Mingyu an almost-glare that has the prince sheepishly standing. Wonwoo picks up his book again, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Mingyu gives Seungcheol a passive look before he sits down as well, eyeing the coat around your shoulders.

One quick glance down at the lapel, and you find what you were looking for. The Jeon Duchy’s coat of arms glints up at you, the house crest shining proudly under the chandelier lights. Your cheeks heat when you recognize the expensive cologne that fills your nose. When you turn towards Wonwoo, he’s back in his book, absorbed, apparently, in the tiny printed words on the page. Your previously scattered papers are neat on the table in front of you.

Wonwoo suddenly looks up from his book, catching your zoned-out stare.

Your eyes widen.

Wonwoo just gives you a small smile, before leaning forward and grabbing your papers. He lays his book face-down on his lap. “Do you need a quill?” he asks, handing you your papers.

He catches you so off guard (as if you were only staring at his face, not listening to what he was saying), that you almost stumble over your own tongue trying to respond casually.

“Er- Um- I mean, no. No, no, that’s fine,” you mumble, snatching the papers from his hand and scooting towards the other side of the long couch. “Thank you, though.”

It feels like Wonwoo’s smile grows at your words. If you looked a little bit closer, you would have seen the tips of his ears turn a blush red when you glance down, fiddling with the academic medals on his lapel.

“Anything for you,” he breathes, like it's a secret shared between you two.

Mingyu and Soonyoung stare at the whole interaction with a mixture of forced disgust, confusion, and awkwardness, and you don’t miss how Soonyoung pretends to gag, Mingyu following suit, before the two of them go back to their lengthy tangents.

From next to you, you miss Mingyu’s quick glance down at your movements and the knowing glance he and Seungcheol share.

Whispers break out as the two men – vastly different in the charismas they exude – stride towards the two royal family members.

And you realize they are heading towards you before you remember you are standing with the royal brothers. And everything suddenly clicks into place. Why the two, more Seungcheol than Mingyu, wanted you to stay for so long – until the “main character arrives.” There is a bubbling pot of the sudden innate need to whack the king over the head with your fan. But of course. That would be terribly unladylike. Nothing a woman in your station should be doing, let alone thinking about doing.

And it seems as if Wonwoo is as surprised at your presence on the royal platform because his dark eyes widen behind his glasses as he and Soonyoung stop in front of the raised platform you, Mingyu, and Seungcheol were standing on.

You feel horribly awkward. And Soonyoung’s gaze flitting between you and Wonwoo before bowing his head, trying to conceal his laughter, is doing nothing to make the situation better.

Seungcheol throws his arms out at the same time Wonwoo drops into a one-knee bow, Soonyoung in tow moments later behind him. At his sudden show of veneration, the crowd gasps softly and you shuffle backwards, only to hit Mingyu’s broad chest that blocks you from leaving the platform. You swallow.

You need to get off this stupid fucking platform.

But when you open and shut your fan, looking back at Mingyu, he seems awfully interested in exchanging eye contact with the ballroom’s chandelier. You know he heard your fan shut. The same, familiar spike of rage bubbles in your chest.

These fucking brothers.

“Success to your highness and peace to the nation.” Wonwoo’s deep voice, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, to lose in your discarded memories, to rip apart to shreds and feed to the dogs, echoes out against the quiet ballroom. If you strain your ears, you can hear, though, the stuttered gasps of the younger ladies and chaperones, on the verge of swooning at his first nine words. Resentfully, your brain conjures itself to the years when you were the same – fanning yourself to catch a handsome man’s attention.

You wish you had the courage to laugh. To elegantly step off this damning platform. To get away (run away) from the man in front of the king.

You feel Mingyu moving ever so slightly behind you until you stand perfectly in between him and Seungcheol. Then, in the softest hiss of a whisper he is capable of, he mumbles, “Stay still. You’re sitting with us now.”

You scoff quietly, raising your fan to your left cheek. The tips of the wooden stilts tickle your painted cheek.

From the corners of your eyes, you can see Mingyu pout. “Oh come on, duchess,” he whines. “I’m degraded down to fan talk?” His fingers wrap around your fan, pulling it down.

You’re glad you and Mingyu stand slightly off to the side because you don’t think you would be able to handle any more whisperings of your relationship with the men in your life Society has to cruelly offer.

“You read right? The Archduchies are part of the direct royal council, now.”

That makes you whip your head towards Mingyu’s. He is still facing forward with a practiced smile on his lips and hands in his pockets like this moment was the most relaxing all night.

You, however, probably look slightly insane. Any fan etiquette goes flying out of the ballroom door at Mingyu’s words. You? On the royal council? Of course, on the surface, it is a great honor. You would be the first non-married matriarch to hold some semblance of power in the royal courts. But you could stitch together the gist of how Society would react to this. And based on Mingyu’s decision to tell you this late into Society’s winter season, you could land a (very accurate) educated guess that Seungcheol was going to announce in the next twenty minutes.

“Are you crazy?” You whisper furiously, turning back to face the crowd. You can already see eyes slowly turn to the two of you, noticing your, now, not-so-subtle interaction.

Mingyu just grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. And you don’t even get a chance to hear what he says because Seungcheol suddenly says, “Of course! Of course!” with the most excited tone of voice you had ever heard him use. Apparently Mingyu thinks the same because his head follows yours in staring at Seungcheol. Both of you, but mostly you because Mingyu is still surveying the crowd with a bright, confident, blazing smile that has the ladies of the court drowning in his eyes, are too embarrassed to look confused at what his words mean because you had zoned out of his rather one-sided conversation with Soonyoung and Wonwoo a long time ago.

You can only stand stiffly in your place sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu as both Soonyoung and Wonwoo rise slowly, giving Seungcheol a curt bow before turning to you and Mingyu. Your fan trembles with your hand as Wonwoo steps closer.

You had forgotten how it feels to know nothing of what was to come. Especially when it pertained to him.

Your heart stills momentarily when his eyes land on you, moving up to your face and holding you in your place for a split second. You can’t even describe it. The feeling of seeing him so up close after all these years. After you had promised yourself to forget him. After you had spent hours crying in your bathtub, Nia rubbing your back soothingly. After you had fallen asleep, at least in the first weeks, on top of your duvet, letters he had once sent you crowding half of your bed, fresh tear stains ruining the expensive ink and paper.

He looks so familiar it pulls at some part in your heart that you had thought was buried three years ago at a sparring ground. You observe him as he and Soonyoung pay their respects to Mingyu, who looks a pinch uncomfortable when his friends kneel in front of him.

Black strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes and crowd his forehead. His military cape pulls your attention to his shoulders, which look broader than you remember them to be. And you can’t help but admit that his tight military top does nothing to hide his worked physique. His family crests glints at the connecting junction of his cape and his uniform, and his sheath, hand-crafted as a gift for his seventeenth birthday, holding his sword, rests against his hips. He looks regal, noble, eligible – so much so that it almost shakes the foundations of the walls you had built.

Then he turns to you, those piercing eyes refocusing onto yours that don’t know where to land. His eyes? His lips? His chest? His shoulders? The crowd? A shadow of a smile paints itself onto his lips and you swallow.

Your mouth feels dry.

This can’t be real.

When you had imagined the re-entry ball, meeting Wonwoo, nevermind seeing him so personally, had never once crossed your mind.

Your fan slowly traced its path up to your right ear.

From behind Wonwoo, Soonyoung grins, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at your fan movement. Your own lips curl up in your practiced way.

For the crowd, you tell yourself.

The entire ballroom seems to watch the two of you in your silence, which was turning more awkward by the second. Wonwoo’s eyes carve a road up and down your figure. It makes your hands clench your fan tightly.

You glance at Seungcheol, who nods, urging you to speak. You let out a small cough, averting your eyes briefly before your smile paints itself onto your lips again. Your fan falls.

“It seems the battlefield has treated you well, Archduke Jeon,” you smiled, opening your arm briefly in a practiced welcome.

It seems as if Wonwoo had not expected you to speak first, and for a second, he stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and hands still next to his body. At Soonyoung’s small embarrassed cough, he blinks rapidly, following your smile in suit. Except his looks too genuine, it tugs at your heart strings. And you berate your traitorous heart in wanting to pull him into a warm embrace.

Remember how he left you. He doesn’t want you.

The corners of your lips tremble.

Instead, you feign indifference, lifting your chin.

Wonwoo bows deeply first, followed by Soonyoung. He rises.

“I see Society has welcomed you back with open arms,” he replies, his voice a pinch above a whisper. His small smile offers it as a jest but his words stab a knife into your gut. He has absolutely no right in jesting about your failed engagements. Not after everything.

From behind him, you can see Soonyoung pinch his nose bridge, shaking his head ever so slightly, mouthing an apology to you.

Wonwoo’s eyes linger a moment too long on you, before reaching for your hand. Out of pure etiquette that has burned itself into your entire being, you offer him your hand, and his head is bowed, lips hovering mere centimeters over your lacy knuckles before you realize what you are doing. And by then, it’s too late to retract your offered hand.

Wonwoo’s lips meet the back of your hand.

His own gloved fingers hold your hand like you are made out of the most delicate of china, his touch barely-there.

And just as quick his lips are on your hand, it disappears from your skin.

“May tonight bring you as much warmth as your presence brings to it,” he murmurs, so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear it. But it’s there.

Wonwoo rises before you have a chance to process his greeting words that were murmured into your hand. You almost miss the way the tips of his ears are blush-red between strands of his hair.

Before you can say something else, Soonyoung is in front of you, bowing over your outstretched hand, pressing a light, airy kiss. You can feel him grin against your skin.

When he looks up, he has a teasing grin painted on his face, and you have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at how he wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

“Success and love for the Archduchess.” Soonyoung’s words echo across the ballroom, unlike Wonwoo’s.

Too busy retracting your hand from Soonyoung’s grip, you miss the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches, face hardening at Soonyoung’s words.

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz

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