#before we got an official casting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wqnwoos · 2 months ago

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Your first and only semester as TA throws your previously unassuming college life into disarray, fuelled almost entirely by the brown-eyed and charming student who’s slipping closer to failing with every lecture. And in return for your mathematical assistance, Lee Chan decides he’s going to set you up with the guy you’ve been persistently pining over for a year and a half. It’s a simple equation: you teach him calculus, and he’ll teach you how to flirt. Except, as you’re both quick to discover, mathematical equations don’t translate over to real life as easily as you’d expect.

as part of the svt ta collab hosted by @camandemstudios !

⇢ pairing: lee chan x ta!reader

⇢ genre: fluff, idiots2lovers, minor angst?

⇢ wc: 10.2k (i’m just as surprised as u are)

⇢ a/n: so many people to thank (the whole collab server for all the sprinting!!) but especial thank u to cam (@/highvern) and em (@/gyuswhore) for hosting this collab. they put SO much work into this and i couldn’t be more grateful to be part of it, so thank you both for everything!!! and thank you to alta (@/haologram) for being my first official beta ever and managing to convince me to not trash the whole thing <3

“I NEED YOUR help.”

Those are probably the last four words you expect to come out of Lee Chan’s mouth. Because you’ve graded his assignments and you’ve seen his work and you’re pretty sure he’s doing above average in the calculus class you’re TA’ing this semester.

So when he manages to corner you after one of the lectures to ask for some extra tutoring, you’re startled, to say the least. “You need my help?”

He nods, once. You cock your head to the side, and your surprise must show on your face, because he fishes a slightly crumpled looking paper out of his bag. You recognise it as the latest quiz, one that, fortunately, landed on the other TA’s marking pile. Scrawled at the very top, in Joshua’s unforgiving red pen, is a glaringly large ‘F - 27%’.

“It was only a pop quiz,” you say encouragingly, hiding your sympathetic wince. “Doesn’t count for anything.”

“I can’t afford to let my grades slip,” he counters quickly, like he’s prepared for this. “Which they are And I really don’t get this module. I just think some extra time could help, but I’m terrible at teaching myself.”

You look at him for a long moment. He can’t be more than a year or two younger than you, this boy with eager brown eyes and a hopeful smile; it’s almost charming, how he leans forward in anticipation of your reply, how worried he is about one small test. And — well. You’ve seen the grade sheets, and his grades are slipping. Not drastically, but this is your job, after all.

“Well,” you say finally, glancing at your watch. “Why don’t you come to the office hours tomorrow, and we’ll go over the quiz? And we can go from there.”

He smiles then, so sudden and bright you almost feel caught in it. “Perfect!” he agrees, as he takes his quiz back, shoving it haphazardly into his bag. “I’ll see you then. Oh, wait — my name’s Chan, by the way.”

You cast him an amused look as you zip up your own bag. “I know that.”

“Oh! Cool! Nice! That’s — yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow!” And as he backs away he stumbles over his own feet, catching himself before he topples over. He sends you a sheepish, flushed smile that makes you smile too. You’re always quick to smile at the students, and you send off the younger boy with a wave. Despite being a math major who loves her subject, you know just how much people despise it. Especially calculus.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” A light voice interrupts your thoughts, and you jump, before turning to face Hong Joshua with a smile just as sheepish as Lee Chan’s was only moments ago.

“Nothing much,” you say, laughing awkwardly. Trying to look anywhere but at his honey brown eyes, you shuffle papers as you continue. “Just about how much people hate math.”

Joshua smiles that breathtaking smile, and your stomach quite literally does a flip. “Why? People bullying you for being smart again?”

You’d mentioned to him that you got made fun of in high school once for liking math. He refuses to let it go: you roll your eyes at him. “No. It was just a train of thought.”

“People who hate math are just not as cool as us,” he says, picking up his own folder, flashing you another smile.

(Us. Your stomach could be Simone Biles, with the amount of somersaults it’s landing today.)

“But anyway,” he continues, checking the time with a frown, “I gotta go. I’ll see you around, dude.”

Dude. There it is: just as quickly as you inflate, you deflate, watching him leave with a wrinkled brow. The problem with Hong Joshua is that he makes it incredibly easy to fall for him — and all the while, he’ll remain incredibly oblivious. You’re just another one of the sorry suckers who isn’t careful enough to nip it in the bud. But really, can you be blamed, when he looks like that? When he acts like that, all sweet and caring and let-me-hold-open-the-door-for-you?

You snap yourself out of your reverie with a sigh. Back to reality, as your mother always says — and your reality is the pile of algebra waiting for you back home.

“What I don’t understand,” Seungkwan says thoughtfully, pacing Chan’s room with his hands folded behind his back, “is why you’re putting on cologne to go to office hours.”

Chan hears the know-it-all tone under his roommate’s pretension, and he resents it. Running a final hand through his hair, and glancing himself over in the mirror one more time, he turns back to Seungkwan with a frustrated scoff. “Does it matter?”

“A problem shared is a problem halved,” Seungkwan wheedles, “In this case, it’d be a problem thirded. Three’d. You know what I mean - there’s three of us to share your problem. Right, Vernon?”

Vernon just blinks from his seat on Chan’s bed, slow and confused. “I don’t really know what we’re talking about. But sure.”

“Nothing,” Chan answers brutally, snatching up his bag. “We’re talking about nothing. Because I don’t have a problem, and Seungkwan’s just being nosy.”

“Look at him!” Seungkwan gesticulates loudly to Vernon, “look how dressed up he is. For class — for calculus! Nobody dresses up for calculus!”

“Ahhh,” Vernon nods slowly, drawing it out; and then he pauses, furrows his brows and asks mildly, “But isn’t that just because he has a crush on his TA?”

Chan hisses; Seungkwan triumphs. “I knew it!” he declares with glee, “I knew there was something! Who is she? Do you have a picture?”

“Nobody,” Chan grinds out, grabbing his backpack and jamming his feet into his worn-out shoes, casting Vernon a resentful look. “And I do not have a picture. But if I did, I wouldn’t show you. Goodbye.” And with that magnificent gesture, he shuts the door firmly behind him.

He’s not late to office hours. He never is. In fact, he’s three minutes early, but you’re already there, along with one or two other classmates he knows by sight but not by name. You’re leaning over one of their desks, talking rapidly as you gesture to the papers in front of them, lanyard swinging.

Chan doesn’t have a crush on you, contrary to what seems to be popular belief. Well. Not a big one. Like, a teensy tiny one, maybe. He thinks you’re pretty, and you’re smart, and you’re incredibly kind. But does he have a crush on you? No. Are his intentions here solely to get to know you better, in order to have a crush on you? Yes. In fact, that’s exactly what this is. Pursuing the butterflies in his stomach. Just out of interest, he reminds himself, as he pushes open the door and you turn around. Pure, innocent interest.

Within an hour of his entrance, you’ve explained every one of Chan’s mistakes — and there were a lot — in digestible detail. Twice as efficient and twice as digestible as Lee, the old, weak-voiced professor with an evidently wrong glasses prescription. He says as much to you, which has you laughing and shaking your head. (“Don’t,” you scold, even as you smile, “he’s so nice, though.”)

The professor is nice. Chan thinks you’re nicer.

He leaves office hours even brighter than he entered. Those butterflies are multiplying.

And, as it turns out in the very next week, when there’s yet another pop quiz — Chan is under the suspicion that Professor Lee doesn’t plan his lessons and just shoves last year’s quizzes at them instead — he does actually need your help. His grades are getting worse. There’s always the other TA, Joshua, who Chan actually happens to know, but Chan thinks that his half-crush is worth following up on. At the very least, you could be a good friend.

Is pretending to need calculus tutoring in order to get to know a girl his finest moment? No. Because as much as he tries to justify this with his slipping grades, he knows perfectly well he could be doing excellently (well, averagely) if he put a little more effort in. But is that as appealing as the TA with the best laugh he’s ever heard? And so, somehow, with impressive persuasive skills he probably picked up from Jeonghan by accident, Chan manages to wheedle you into tutoring him, smiling as you hmm’ed and haa’ed and bit your lip nervously.

“I’ve got a full list already,” you had said slowly, and he’d jumped in before you could go down the route of polite refusal.

“I know, I know, but seriously — I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had! I’m a good learner, I swear. I can study whenever you want.”

Which is how he landed himself early morning sessions — and when you said early, you weren’t kidding. The times you’ve scheduled for him to start range between eight to ten, and he specifically didn’t book morning classes this semester because he loves his sleep. But still: his grades are slipping, and there’s a cute girl on the line, so he takes his success with warmth — or perhaps it’s just the thought of spending more time with you, but whatever it is, he feels like he’s glowing, inside out.

Your first tutoring session with Lee Chan goes surprisingly well. The moment he began halfway guilt tripping you into tutoring him (“Imagine if my grades slip so far, I don’t get to graduate on time. Could you live with that?”), you knew he was something. And somehow, you still agreed to this, despite being loaded with all the shit a master’s student has on their plate, on top of TA’ing. Maybe you should work on saying no sometimes, but who are you kidding? You don’t have time to deal with your possibly self-destructive flaws, not when your to-do list is three miles long

Despite your qualms, however, Chan turns out to be a great listener. He doesn’t act pissy when you tell him he’s doing something wrong, either, which is already better than half your students.

“I probably seem really stupid,” he says with a quiet laugh, as he re-attempts a question from the last quiz.

“Not at all,” you say instantly. “Don’t tell Lee, but calculus is the worst, anyway.”

He lifts his head with curved lips — “Oh? From the words of the mathematical extraordinaire herself?”

Immediately, you’re growing hot, shaking your head and laughing, looking away. “Oh, come on. Don’t call me that.”

Chan’s eyes don’t move from yours — it’s like you can physically feel the weight of his gaze, sometimes. You’ve never met someone with so much… presence. “Why not?” he asks. “Own it. Professor Lee says that about you all the time.”

“Okay, not me specifically,” you correct quickly, “he says that about Joshua too.”

Chan clicks his tongue dismissively. “Yeah, but Joshua’s a piece of shit anyway, so…”

Your surprise must be visible on your face, because when Chan looks back at you, he laughs out loud, louder than the other students in the library are happy with; they cast him dirty looks, but it’s like they bounce straight off him. He only lowers his voice a little, leaning closer. “Joshua and I are friends,” he explains, amused, “I’m not serious. But anyway, if you don’t even like calculus, what are you doing TA’ing it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, just… Lee asked me to, so I was like, why not?”

“I can’t imagine anything worse,” Chan says bluntly, “than teaching a bunch of people how to integrate shit.”

A giggle slips out of you before you can prevent it; he makes you do that a lot. Laugh, without meaning to. “Well. That’s why I majored in Math. I don’t mind.” You hesitate. “What are you actually majoring in?”

His eyes do that thing again. Sparkle. He bites down on his lip, as if suppressing a smile. “Math.”

“What?” You can’t help it, you’re laughing again, louder this time and trying to stifle it. “You never said!”

“You never asked!” He mirrors your incredulous tone teasingly.

“You just let me embarrass myself like that.”

“You didn’t do anything embarrassing.”

You try to ignore his eyes on you again, picking up your pencil to doodle awkwardly in your notebook. “I thought you were like… on a sports program. Or in, like, accounting or something.”

Impossibly, his smile widens. “Those are two very different things.”

The playful lilt to his tone does something to your stomach. “Have you finished your question yet?” You change the subject so sharply that he laughs again, sliding his notebook over to you.

You glance over it, blinking in surprise. “That’s perfect,” you say, pushing it back towards him. “Well done.”

That smile shifts into something more — well, if you didn’t know any better, you’d call it flirty. Lopsided and charming. “Yeah, well,” he says, packing up his stuff, “I‘ve got a great teacher.”

The tutoring sessions continue to pass much the same. Chan does his work, but keeps stopping to ask you all kinds of questions in between. Your favourite colour. Your favourite type of coffee. Your favourite movie, TV show, your hometown — somehow, his easy, open nature has you telling him all kinds of things, and more than that, you’re asking him all kinds of things in return.

“You know, I’m not like this with the rest of my tutoring roster,” you observe quietly, as you finish a story about your high school prom. “Like, at all.”

“Good!” he says, grinning at you. He’s wearing glasses today, you notice. He looks — nice. Cute. “That’d be like you’re cheating on me. I’m your favourite student.”

Slightly appalled, you nudge him. “Not true! I’ve never said that. I don’t play favourites.”

“I do,” he says just as swiftly. “I’m your favourite. I can tell.” He pats your hand. “It’s okay, you’re my favourite too.”

You pull your hand away, ignoring the swoop of your stomach. “Focus!”

“How am I supposed to focus when you’re right there?”

“Easily,” you snap, “since you’re my favourite student.”

Chan positively beams when you say it, not even attempting to hide it as he returns to the problems in front of him. “As long as you can admit it.”

At the end of the session, Chan digs into his bag and slides a candy over to you, and you can’t help the smile that splits your face open. “No way,” you cry, picking it up, “I love these! How did you know?”

He smiles, not even glancing at the candy once, fixing his eyes on you. “You told me. Like, a week ago.”

You barely remember that Something swells up inside you, tight and hot and sweet. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Chan.” You hope he can hear how touched you are, because you can’t quite express it.

“It’s nothing,” he says, with a small smile, one you can’t quite read. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,” you say after the shortest of pauses. “Of course. We’re friends.”

He truly is something else. Almost your opposite, with his confidence and his openness and outright friendliness. You can’t quite put it into words, but something warm just pours out of him.

When you say as much to Minghao, your best friend, he laughs in your face. “Chan? Lee Chan?”

“He’s nice,” you protest lightly. Minghao somehow knows him, through Jeonghan or something or other. Briefly, you wonder how many people Chan knows — which really just proves your point. He’s annoyingly likeable, and even though you have to be forced to admit it, he is easily your favourite out of all the students you tutor. It’s barely even a competition; it’s not a competition. Your other students are fine, but they’re not quite Chan.

“Lee Chan is a little shit,” Minghao says with a hidden affection you’ve had to learn to detect. “But, yeah. He’s a good guy.” There’s a pause filled by the surrounding murmurs of people in the coffee shop you guys are in. It’s always overflowing with people, but it’s the only place that serves halfway decent herbal tea for Minghao, so the two of you always end up meeting here.

“How’s Joshua?” Minghao asks suddenly, doing the annoying thing where he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Still as sexy and gentlemanly as ever, is he?”

At the very mention of his name, you feel yourself growing hotter. “He’s fine,” you say shortly. “Busy.”

Your crush on Joshua has never been a secret from Minghao. Even if you’d wanted it to be, Minghao would’ve worked it out in two days, tops. But, as you keep reiterating, it’s just a stupid crush. It’ll fade. Just like your crush on Kim Hongjoong two years ago, and your crush on Kim Namjoon the year before that. You have a habit of letting things die out, and you’re very comfortable in that habit.

“___,” Minghao says seriously, “you should tell him.”

“There are literally so many things I’d do before I confess. I’d rather memorise the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem than do that.”

“You never know if you don’t try! And besides,” Minghao adds, softer, “even if he, you know, doesn’t feel that way, Joshua’s not... well, he won’t make you feel bad about anything. You guys can still be friends. Joshua’s nice.”

Which is the sentence that echoes in your head later that same day, when your meeting with Professor Lee and Joshua is over. Lee is long gone, leaving you and Joshua to go over a few minor details with your tutor schedules and office hour planning. Joshua just looks… really good, with all his files spread out in front of him, his silky voice talking about something stupid one of his tutees had done, his long, dyed hair slightly mussed.

“…and then he asked me how to find where the line intercepts the asymptote!” he finishes, chuckling. You’re a little late with your laugh, too busy focussing on how the afternoon sun lights up his hair, making it look lighter than it actually is.

Joshua calls your name, his smile shifting into something more concerned. “Are you okay?”

Your words stumble into each other on their way out. “I — well, yeah. Fine. I’m fine — good. I’m good.”

You guys can still be friends.

“Actually, Josh, I wanted to ask you something,” you say in a sudden emboldened rush.

“Go for it,” he says, smile fading ever so slightly. “Everything okay?”

“I — ” You hesitate, and in that split second, your courage disappears. You stare at him, and your brain decides for you: unattainable. Untouchable. “I forgot,” you finish lamely, ducking your head and shuffling your papers. Surprisingly, you’re not quite at the level of mortification you thought you would be.

“Ookay,” Joshua drags out, still watching you with concern, before he shakes it off and starts to gather his things. “Well, just let me know if you remember. I’m here for you, okay? We’re friends, not just TAs!”

That fucking word again. Friends. Only this time, you realise suddenly, it barely even hurts.

Maybe you’re just getting used to it.

“So…” Vernon says, sidling up to Chan in their shared kitchen, “how’s your TA?”

Chan sighs, looking mournfully at the spicy ramen he’d just made for himself. So much for peace. It must’ve been the smell that lured Vernon out of his bedroom, but he’s clearly an opportunist; killing two birds with one stone by prying into his life and poaching his food. “Joshua is fine.”

“That’s great, but I know that already,” Vernon says, as he helps himself to some of the ramen. Chan lets him, and that must be how his friend realises something is wrong, because he’s suddenly narrowing his eyes at Chan around his mouthful of noodles. “What is it? Did she turn you down?”

Chan drags out his words. “I haven’t said anything to her. She likes someone else. I can tell.”

Vernon considers this for a moment, characteristically quiet and contemplative. “Are you sure?”

“Well — not really. But I’m like, eighty percent sure? But also I don’t really know her that well, and Jeonghan once said to me she’s always super nice to everyone, so I don’t think she’s into me. But then I also don’t know if she’s into him either! Because she’s nice to me and him and apparently every motherfucker on the planet, so it’s, like, confusing, you know? But like. I think she is into him. She looks at him in a kinda way, so…”

Vernon chews with wide eyes. “Damn. That’s crazy, bro, what are you going to do?

Chan exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I think we’ll be better off as friends. I’ll probably just… give up.”

Vernon nods slowly, already backing away. “Good luck, dude. Here for you.” He raises an awkward fist in solidarity, and that’s when Chan glances at his bowl of ramen and realises it’s empty.

Chan allows himself one day to mope. He even cancels a session for the first time, shooting you a quick message to let you know he isn’t feeling great, and he wallows. Stays in bed the entire twenty four hours, scoffing all the ramen in the house, and now he owes Seungkwan and Vernon two packs each, but still — he feels better. He’s grateful he didn’t let it get too far, at the very least. You guys can still be friends, and one day this will be a funny joke he slips into conversation.

When he shows up to the next session, a few days later, he’s determined not to show any hint of awkwardness. He plunks his books down with a renewed energy, startling you as you take out your headphones.

“I was going to ask if you’re feeling better,” you start dryly, “but I can see that’s clearly the case.”

“Yeah. Nothing big, I’m fine now,” he waves off your concern. Heartsick, maybe. It still twinges at him, when he sees your soft smile, faintly smells your trademark perfume, your colour coded notes in front of you. He doesn’t know when highlighters became so endearing, when he learnt that you always overuse the pastel green one.

“Okay, so asymptotes,” you begin, and Chan scoots closer, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re my asymptote,” he says with solemn seriousness, “because I always tend towards you.”

You fluster easily, Chan has noticed. You avoid his gaze, but you’re laughing, telling him how terrible his jokes are but still — you’re laughing.

Suddenly, in only a few minutes, the thought of getting over you is a lot more daunting than he imagined. You make it harder when you laugh at the stupid joke he quips a moment later, too; you always tell him he has an infectious laugh, but yours is like music to his ears, no matter how hard you try to suppress it in the library.

“Come on,” you say, finally, gathering yourself together. “Asymptotes. It’s our last lesson for a bit. Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“Leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he confirms. “What about you?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “Asymptotes will be the end of this chapter, so it’s perfect timing, really. We can start the new stuff after the break.”

Privately, Chan thinks the break really is perfect timing. He can wallow a little more, back at home with the comfort of his mother’s food and his father’s baseball reruns. He’ll come back ready to finish his tutoring, ace calculus, and be your friend. With firm emphasis on friend. For a moment, he considers you and Joshua as a couple, and honestly, as much as it stings, it’s cute. It makes sense.

After the break, winter hits full force. Your first tutoring session at the library is with Chan, and you’re layered up to the max, treating yourself to coffee as a shield against the bite of the cold outside. Vaguely, you remember Chan saying something about how he only drinks lattes hot, and so you order one for him too, taking extra packets of sugar and a stirring spoon on your way out. You know he likes to do the sugar himself.

“I’m late, I know.” You shrug off your coat when you arrive at your guys’ usual table, shaking the raindrops off your coat and hair with an apologetic smile. “It literally started pouring just two minutes before I got here, but here — coffee.” You unload your arms on the table in front of him, slightly breathless, tugging a hand through your untamed hair.

You catch Chan looking at you, something unreadable in his gaze, and you wince. “Sorry,” you apologise again.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I’ve just — I’ve never seen you so…”

“Messy?” you finish, laughing half self-consciously.

“Disorganised,” he corrects, and it feels gentler. “You’re kind of, like, windswept?” He pauses, quieter. “You look — pretty.”

You ran to the library a solid ten minutes ago. Your heart shouldn’t still be beating this fast. “Thank you,” you reply, just as quietly. There’s silence for a beat, fraught with some sort of tension, before you slap the textbook with too much enthusiasm, “So, uh, next chapter!”

“Next chapter,” he agrees quickly, and just like that, the weirdness dissipates, and it’s just you and Chan.

At least, until Joshua steps in the library. He’s browsing the section near you; you see him before he sees you, but only by a few seconds. You just have enough time to think how cute his scarf is, and then his eyes fall on you and Chan, and he waves with a smile.

You wave back as he nears the table. “I don’t want to interrupt,” Joshua explains quickly, “just wanted to say hi. To both of you. How’s it going?” He directs his question to Chan, adding — “Is she running you to the ground?”

“She wouldn’t,” Chan says simply. He doesn’t say much else as Joshua says his goodbyes and disappears between the shelves, but you’re still a little harried-looking, dusting down your clothes unnecessarily.

“So,” Chan says casually, as you return your focus to him and take a sip of water to try and cool you down, “how long have you had a crush on Joshua?”

You choke. Heat curls up your neck, and not because of your coughing — hot-faced and spluttering, you demand, “What are you talking about?” Even as you speak, you can tell your voice is pitched too high. Too defensive.

The younger boy gives you a look. “Come on. I’m not blind.”

You duck your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, so this question about limits — ”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he sings, cutting you off. “You have a big fat crush on Hong Joshua!”

Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth, glancing behind you in horror. “Oh my God, keep your voice down!”

Beneath your palm, Chan gives you the most self-satisfied, victorious look, and belatedly, you realise you’ve given yourself away. “Fuck you,” you say, without any venom, releasing him and leaning back, trying extremely hard not to sulk. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

“It is when you’re making googly eyes at him right in front of me. Your student.”

“I don’t make googly eyes!” you object immediately, horrified. “I’ve never made googly eyes.”

“Whatever you say, teach.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t!”

“Okay, I said.” He still has that smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s infuriating.

Briefly, your mind flits back to the stumbling boy you’d spoken to when he’d first asked for your help, back in late September. You miss him, you think sarcastically. He was the total opposite of the guy in front of you now.

“So?” Chan leans forward over the desk with raised, expectant eyebrows.

“So what?”

“So, how long? A month? Two?”

Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Again.

“Longer?”

“A year,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“A year?!” He practically yelps, and you have never wanted to bury yourself alive more than you do at this moment.

“A year and a half. Or something,” you confirm weakly, and then shake your head. You gently push his forehead with the eraser side of your pencil, forcing him back to his side of the desk. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m meant to be helping you with limits today.”

“I think you need more help than I do,” he says with sudden, sweet sympathy, patting your hand how he always does. You snatch it away and glare at him, but he ploughs on. “How have you not made a single move for a year and a half? You should do something about it. Move past the googly eyes.”

“Don’t want to. Can’t make me.” You tap your pencil against his open, untouched /textbook. “Now focus. On your work, and not on prying into my love life!”

He clicks his tongue softly, but picks up his own pencil again; inwardly, you let out a soft sigh of relief. Mortification still boils in the pits of your stomach — a guy you barely even know caught on so quickly. Are you really so obvious?

Chan works quietly for all of three minutes, and then he glances at you again. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say warningly, cutting him off before he can even start.

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “I didn’t say anything!”

”You were going to.”

“I think you should make a move, that’s all.”

“I think it’s none of your business.”

“You said we were friends now! I’m trying to help my friend!”

“I take it back. Strictly tutor and student. We’re no longer friends.”

“No, seriously. I think you could totally get him to fall for you.”

You audibly snort. “Chan, do you know how many people have a crush on Joshua? He wouldn’t look twice at me. And I’m fine with that.”

“I’m not!”

You groan, tip your head on to the textbook in front of you. Then you turn, glaring at him and his entertained smile — with a smushed cheek and sulky pout, you ask, ”Why is this such a big deal to you, anyway?”

Chan almost seems to fold in on himself when you ask that. For someone so open and friendly, he has a way of shuttering down that startles you a little. It’s subtle, but you’re starting to notice it; his avoidant eyes and the faint pink on the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging with obviously feigned nonchalance. “I guess — I think you deserve to be happy.”

Sometimes people say things that hit you straight in the gut. Wind you. Leave you just a little bit breathless with their sincerity.

You open and close your mouth like a fucking fish. “Oh,” you say at last, stupidly, “that’s — that’s really nice of you, Chan.”

Whatever brief embarrassment he was experiencing, he seems to be over it. “I know. I’m the best. And that’s why I’m going to help you.”

You laugh again, amused and slightly endeared by his enthusiasm. “Okay, fairy godmother. Let’s get back to work, maybe.”

“No, seriously,” Chan insists, brown eyes sparkling. “I’m going to teach you how to flirt.”

The previous flattering you felt disappears in the space of a second. “Excuse me?” you say incredulously, but you’re laughing already, simply at the pure audacity. “Who says I don’t know how to flirt?”

“You did,” he says, matching your smile, “when you didn’t make a single move for a year and a half. But don’t worry. I’m going to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“No, but you need it, so I’m going to help you anyway,” he nods generously.

“How kind,” you say sarcastically, before thwacking his shoulder with your thinnest textbook.

Chan bursts out laughing as he dodges it, before switching back to that tone — the one that had you caving into him only a few weeks back, when he asked you to be his tutor. (Briefly, you wonder how it’s only been a few weeks. Part of you feels like you’ve known him forever.)

“Seriously,” he continues, “I can help you. I’ve literally never been rejected in my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” You snort, but honestly, you don’t doubt it.

He tilts his head to the side. “Well, like, once in middle school. It doesn’t count. 100% success rate, baby.”

“99%, maybe.”

“That is not how statistics works,” he says smugly. “Thought you’d know better, teach.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best. I’m going to get you a boyfriend; literally just give me twenty minutes at the end of the rest of our tutoring sessions.”

“We only have, like, three left.”

“That’ll be enough.”

Fuck it, you think. You don’t think this will help you with Joshua — nor do you want it to — but why the hell not? If it makes Chan happy, as it so clearly seems to…

“Ten minutes,” you sigh.

His eyes brighten. “Fifteen.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce after a short moment, waving your hand dismissively. “From next time, though. I don’t have time today.”

You try to ignore his Cheshire cat grin, but it’s infectious. You’re mirroring it by the time he slaps the desk victoriously, assuring you, “You won’t regret this, I swear.”

“I’m sure I will. So, limits — ”

“Limits,” he agrees, an infuriatingly triumphant smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. “You have no limits.”

“Lesson one,” Chan says, a little too gleefully, only a few days later. “Body language.”

He watches you pass a hand over your forehead with a grimace. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“First tip is to not be doing things like that when he speaks,” Chan says lightly, pulling your hands away from your forehead. He places his index fingers either side of your lips, and gently, carefully, he pulls the corners of them upwards. “Smile.”

You blink at him, and it is, unfortunately, the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “But,” he continues, shaking it off and pulling his fingers away, “you’re good at smiling anyway, so that’s not a key concern.”

Surprise appears on your features. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before. I usually get the opposite.”

Chan is slightly taken-aback, because you’re always smiling. You’re quiet, definitely, but you laugh super easy, and smile even easier than that.

“But go on.” You change the subject quickly, and Chan realises that despite yourself, you’re getting intrigued now.

“Tip number two,” he continues, magnanimously, “eye contact.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Why not?” The swiftness of your refusal startles him, but even as he asks, he kind of knows; you tend to avoid eye contact, especially when you’re shy, or embarrassed, or confused, or… well, a lot of the time. “You can practise.”

You look at him with horror. “Practise?”

“With me,” he nods, steeling himself already. “Now.”

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke,” he lies straight to your face, just to make you relax. Sure enough, your shoulders loosen almost instantly, and you let out half a smile. “Come on. Just for two minutes.”

“Okay,” you finally agree, meeting his stare. Chan leans forward just the slightest bit, and for the first time in his life, he understands what it means to sink into someone else’s eyes. Your gaze isn’t intense, but it’s captivating, and he’s not sure if that’s his own feelings surfacing up again, or it’s just — natural. Either way, being this close to you is doing something funny to his ribs, the same thing that happened when you brought him coffee.

He tries to distract himself. “Can’t believe we only have two tutoring sessions left.” His voice has lowered instinctively, taken on a slightly gravelly tone that seems to surprise you a little Your lips part for a second, and then you nod; he watches your throat bob as you swallow.

“Yeah,” you say, equally as hushed. “Time flies, huh?”

His lips are dry. The tip of his tongue darts out, and he watches as you seem to follow it. “Yeah. When you’re having fun.”

Chan goes home that night more confused than before, and it only gets worse when Seungkwan’s waiting for him in the living room, hands on hips. One look at him, and Chan can tell he’s going to play interrogator.

“I just don’t know if this is a good idea,” Seungkwan says, at last, after Chan slumps on to the couch. “Helping her get with Joshua. You’re going to break your own heart.”

Chan wrinkles his nose. “I am not. We’re just friends, Seungkwan. I’m over it.”

Seungkwan looks at him disbelievingly, and Chan rolls his eyes. “I’m getting over it,” he corrects himself. “But we’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’m your best friend,” Seungkwan replies instantly, “Of course I’m going to worry. You just — you open your heart so easily. Which is a good thing!” he tacks on hastily, “But she… well.”

Arching a brow, Chan leans forward. “She what?”

“Let me put it this way. You’re a romantic, and from what I can tell, she’s a cynic.”

Chan has never given much thought to what other people think about you, not until now. In all honesty, he’d had a similar perception of you, at first. Extremely organised. Kind of stoic. Nice, but distant. But now, he’s sure that nothing has ever been further from the truth. You’re reserved, that goes without a doubt, but you’re not cold. You’re kind. Care immensely for your friends, even though there are only a few of them. Shy, but sweet, and he thinks it’s a fucking shame that people can’t see that. He’d thought you were distant, but he’s heard other people describe you as uptight. Snobbish.

All people do is talk, he thinks with a little contempt.

He looks back at his roommate. “You don’t know her, Seungkwan. She’s not a cynic.”

His friend shrugs. “I trust you. Just… be careful.”

Your second “lesson” with Chan begins with him grabbing you by the hand and pulling you in between random bookshelves.

“Stand here,” he instructs, before patting you on the shoulders. You can feel the warmth of his hands through your sweater. “Okay,” he says, “lesson two is all about conversation. He’s going to fall in love with your mouth — not like that,” he adds quickly, when he sees you biting down on your lip to hide your laugh. “Mind out the gutter, teach.”

You grin at him cheekily. “You’re the teacher now. Come on, then.” The truth is, these lessons are more entertaining than anything. You’re enjoying it, hanging out with Chan without having to remind him to finish his questions or double-check the textbook.

“Be serious!” he complains, but his eyes have that usual sparkle to them. He glances at your clothes for a moment. “Nice sweater, by the way. You look good in blue. But anyway, quick tips — remember what he likes, compliment him, talk about what you have in common, stuff like that. Okay, I’m going to go over and I want you to imagine I’m Joshua. So you see me randomly in the library, what are you doing?”

You snort. “Running in the other direction.”

He holds a finger up, hiding a smile at your silly answer. “Bzzzt. Wrong answer. You lose ten points.”

“When did I have ten points to begin with?” you argue, but still, you’re struggling to suppress your giggles.

“You didn’t. You’re in the negatives.” He flicks you gently on the forehead. “Try again.”

“Ow,” you complain, pouting. “Okay, I’m meant to say hi.”

“Ding! Ten points. Back to zero.” Chan waits expectantly, and you look at him in confusion. He motions with his fingers. “Go on. Say hi.”

“I am not roleplaying with you!” you hiss, horrified, pushing his arm gently. He stumbles back exaggeratedly. “We do math, Chan, not drama!”

“Actually I do math and history,” he corrects nonchalantly, “and history is dramatic.”

Flummoxed, you repeat after him — “History? Since when do you do history?”

“Since, like, three years ago…?” He laughs at your expression, but you can’t bring yourself to mirror his lightness, for once.

You feel rooted to your spot. “You’re a double major?” Something uncomfortable stirs in the pits of your stomach, and you know you’re not being rational — there’s no reason why this should jar you so much, but you feel jarred. “How did I not know this?” you ask, more to yourself. You turn to him, head moving so sharply he almost steps back. “Did you ever mention this?

Chan’s smile is fading. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs awkwardly, “it never came up. It’s not a big deal!”

“It is to me,” you insist, “Chan, you’re my friend! I should know this stuff!”

“It’s not a big deal,” he repeats, his brows furrowed. “Seriously. You know me better than half my friends already, and we’ve only been friends for like, a few months.” He attempts a smile — “You even know about the whole story behind that girl rejecting me back in middle school, I don’t tell that to everyone.”

“Yeah,” you say distractedly, “I guess so.”

Chan looks at the time. “Don’t you have a meeting now? With Joshua?”

You tilt your head, confused, your mind still on his history major. “I do?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminds you, and you snap out of it, checking the time yourself. “You’re going to be late,” Chan laughs, gently pushing you towards your bag. “Go!”

You wave at him as you gather your stuff haphazardly, calling an, “I’ll text you later!” ok your way out.

“Remember my top tips!” he calls back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You laugh and flip him off, bundling yourself out the library — only to run smack into another girl leaving at the same time.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you apologise, helping her pick up her pencils. “I wasn’t looking!”

“It’s okay,” she assures you quickly. “By the way,” she adds, “you and your boyfriend are so cute!”

“My… boyfriend?” You hand her stuff back to her with a furrowed brow.

She beams at you sunnily. “Yeah! I always see you guys on your cute study dates over there, it’s soo sweet. The way you guys look at each other is, like, to die for.”

“Thank you,” you say automatically, before opening your mouth to correct her. But it’s too late, she’s gone and you’re left standing in the exit with a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind, ones that preoccupy you all the way back to yours and Joshua’s shared office.

They only multiply when you see Joshua, and feel absolutely nothing. There’s no typical dip in your stomach, no stuttering heartbeat, just a familiar smile and nothing else, which is when you realise — you haven’t been feeling anything like what you used to feel.

At least, not around Joshua.

“That’s the first time you’ve been late, like, ever,” Joshua observes, “Were you with Chan?”

“Yeah, I — uh, how did you know that?” You cut yourself off to stare at him in surprise.

“Our tutoring schedules are right there,” he smiles, nodding to the pinboard next to him. You almost sigh in relief. A normal explanation, finally. Something that makes sense. These realisations and observations are nothing more than —

“But you always have a certain look after you see him anyway,” Joshua continues obliviously. “Your eyes get all shiny. You smile more.” He pauses, grins at you knowingly, “You guys are close, huh?”

“I — I don’t — ” You stutter feebly, because suddenly everything is hot and you need to lie down. “I don’t feel well,” you almost shout, way too loud; Joshua startles, but nods.

“Okay,” he says, worriedly. “We can reschedule, but do you need a ride home?”

“No!” you snap, before taking a deep breath. “Sorry. No. I think — the fresh air will be good for me.”

Joshua lets you go, and you feel close to tears the whole way home.

You can’t stomach this, you think, curled up in a ball under your duvet. It doesn’t make sense; you may be a math major, but none of this is adding up.

“I like Joshua,” you say out loud, and it sounds hollow. It sounds false. It doesn’t bring anything with it.

Slowly, tentatively, you say, “I like Chan.”

That brings so much, but more than anything, it brings warmth. Warmth like the serious brown of his eyes, his rough hands, his smile, his laugh, the way he chews his lip when he’s thinking hard about a question.

You stick your head in a pillow and let out a scream.

Chan doesn’t know if he should invite you to the end of semester party that Seungcheol is throwing, considering his absolute failure in getting over you, but he does it anyway. He invited you to the Halloween one, and you turned him down, saying you had plans with some other friends, but he reckons it’s worth trying again, so he does just that.

Your response comes within minutes.

[16:43] you: isn’t that the night before our last tutoring?

[16:44] chan: i know! but i’ll be on time i promise i wont even drink that much [16:44] chan: it’ll be like a celebration!!

[16:45] you: of what?

[16:45] chan: you put up with me for a full semester :)

He watches your typing bubble appear and reappear multiple times with a frown, until:

[16:48] you: i don’t “put up” with you chan

A smile. A big cheesy one that has his cheeks aching a little.

[16:48] you: we’re friends, aren’t we?

No matter how hard he tries, that still stings.

The party sneaks up faster than expected, and Chan agrees to meet you there, because you’re coming with Minghao, and he agreed to help Seungcheol set up before he knew you were coming. Which is, you know, whatever. He’s not a little upset that he doesn’t get to pick you up in his car and do the whole opening-your-door-for-you thing — not at all, no matter what Seungkwan tries to imply.

Joshua probably would’ve, he thinks miserably, as people begin to arrive. That’s what you’d once said, ages ago, that you liked about him.

‘He’s sweet,’ you’d said, ‘and he, like, holds doors open for me.’

‘The bar is in hell,’ Chan had said in response, making you snort with laughter, hiding your face.

“No moping at my party!” Seungcheol yells as he sails by, carrying a load of ping pong balls — they’re setting up beer pong in the other room, but for once, Chan doesn’t feel the need to take up Jeonghan’s challenge. He dithers by the door, looking up hopefully every time someone enters, and every time, it isn’t you.

Until it is. You come in just after Minghao, and Chan’s breath is quite literally taken away. It’s horrifyingly cliché, how gorgeous you look — you always do, but he’s never seen you dressed up before. Not like this, with a blue dress that falls to your mid-thigh, hair done to perfection. Makeup too, that makes your eyes look bigger and softer, that matches your outfit exactly.

Something swells inside him when he sees you on your tiptoes, craning your neck this way and that; instinctively, he thinks you’re looking for him. And when your eyes finally land on his, you smile so big that his insides turn molten; hot and tight and full, so incredibly full. He moves towards you without even realising, a moth to a flame.

“You look — ” He swallows. Hard. “Amazing. You look amazing.”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can, Minghao mutters something in your ear, gesturing to a room on the right before tugging you away. Chan watches as you send him an apologetic wave — and then you’re gone, melting into the sea of people that Seungcheol somehow knows. And he’s tugged in completely the opposite direction, casting one longing look after you.

About an hour into the party, you see Chan with someone else. A girl. Short, dark-haired, bright-eyed — pretty. So pretty.

You’re not one to get jealous, usually. But that’s the only word to describe the way your stomach drops and your heart twists. Green-eyed monster, rearing in your chest. She makes him laugh, and he touches her arm when he does, and honestly, it’s a completely innocent picture. They’re probably just friends, and you’re usually so secure in yourself, but with Chan — you feel everything but secure. It was only last week you allowed yourself to acknowledge you were halfway to falling in love with him.

Joshua was familiar, at least. This is not, which is why it took you so long to accept it.

You smooth down your dress (“You look good in blue.”), and watch as Chan leans down to hear her over the music. Maybe it’s the second drink in your hand, which you’d only taken after being egged on by Mingyu — he’d handed you his “professional” jungle juice. It tastes like shit, but recent events have brought with them a desire to get absolutely fucking wasted.

Tragically, you’ve managed tipsy at best, but it’s still enough to have you over-emotional, and with one last look at Chan and the pretty girl, you escape the watchful eyes of Minghao to the balcony of Seungcheol’s disgustingly wealthy place to cry. Which you do, with shaky, gulping breaths, and blurred vision.

When you’ve calmed yourself just the slightest bit, you glance at yourself in your phone camera, lit up by the yellow lighting inside. The girl in the mirror is almost unrecognisable — drunk and face streaked with cheap mascara (advertised as waterproof but clearly not).

God, your head aches. When did life become so fucking complicated?

You know when; you know exactly when, that little snarky voice in the corner of your head tells you, flashing you an image of a certain brown-haired boy with his stupid smile. You know that this mess started somewhere around when he waltzed into your life, brandishing his flirting tips and stupid math puns. What you don’t know is when he slipped his way into your heart, when you somehow gave him the power to crush it in his fingers.

That’s what it feels like. Lee Chan has your heart in the palm of his hand, and he doesn’t have a fucking clue.

The thought makes you feel slightly sick — or maybe it’s the overconsumption of the jungle juice that Mingyu cooked up, but whatever it is, your stomach churns uncomfortably, leaving acid climbing your throat. You cast a contemptuous look at the mixture in your red solo cup, and with a sigh, dump the rest of it over the balcony next to you. You ignore the call of hey, fuck you! that comes from below, instead sinking to the floor, hugging your knees and leaning your aching, hot against the cool metal railing to blink away the tears that burn behind your eyes.

Momentarily you consider how at the start of the year, you’d never have expected yourself to be here, not in a million years. At the SVT frat house, hidden in a corner to weep over a boy. A boy that isn’t Hong Joshua — a boy that is, technically, in some ways, your student.

“Fuck you, Lee Chan,” you say bitterly, and as always, you can’t bring yourself to mean it.

“Why’s that?” A familiar voice has you snapping your head towards the balcony doorway. Tall and smiling as always, Joshua regards you with a look of mixed sympathy and pity. You resent it.

“Fuck you too!” You try to scowl at him; it doesn’t quite work, and you’re too drunk and tired to muster up the energy to be angry at him. Joshua didn’t really do anything; the only crime you can hold against him is obliviousness. He’s not the one holding your heart in his hands. You don’t think he ever really was — at the very least, what you felt with him was never like this. There was never so much.

Joshua doesn’t say anything, just laughs and sits next to you on the floor. Both of you have your backs pressed to the railing, and he nudges you softly with his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He smiles ever so slightly, nodding to your tearful face. “Yeah, I mean, I figured.”

You let out a watery giggle. “God. I’m such a mess.”

Joshua hums, like he’s actually considering your words deeply. “You aren’t, really. You’re like, the least messy person I know.”

You sniffle a little. “What?”

“Come on, ___, you’re like the most put-together person in this whole university. It’s kind of refreshing to see you outside of that.”

“What, you enjoy seeing me cry?”

“No, of course not,” he says quickly, bumping your shoulder. “Just. In general, I mean. You’ve been happier lately.”

You gesture to your tear tracks. “This is happy?”

Joshua clicks his tongue at you. “I think Chan is really good for you,” he says finally, quietly. Like he knows he’s broaching a forbidden topic — which he is. You flinch at the very sound of his name. “He makes you happy. That’s what I mean. You should give yourself a shot.”

“No,” you say immediately, automatically. “I can’t.”

“You could,” he says, without reproach. “If you let yourself.”

You let that settle. Silence falls — or at least as much silence as you can get when you’re metres away from a house party. “I used to have a crush on you, you know.” You don’t look at him, facing straight ahead thoughtfully.

Joshua smiles, rueful. “I know.”

You snap your head round, and your disbelief must be etched onto your face because he laughs. “I could tell,” he shrugs. “You got flustered so easily, sometimes.”

The slightest of groans. “I do that, apparently.” You hug your legs to you again, resting your cheek on your knees as you look at Joshua, sitting by your side. “I almost asked you out, too.”

“I probably would’ve said yes,” he confesses honestly, but still, somehow, you don’t feel anything. “But then I saw how you are with Chan. And that is not like this,” he continues gently. “The way you looked at me back then is nothing, compared to how you look at him.”

“Don’t tell him.” You’re not afraid to beg.

“God forbid you let yourself feel something, right?” Joshua laughs a little, but his eyes bore into you with sincere sympathy. “Why are you so afraid of your own feelings?”

You don’t know what to say. But you’re saved from having to think about it, because Lee Chan himself sticks his head through the door, something shifting on to his face when his eyes finally land on you.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you for — ” he freezes for a second, the exact moment his eyes land on Joshua sitting next to you “ — ages,” he finishes, slowly, before taking a step back. “I should go.”

“No, stay,” Joshua says, quickly, standing up. “We were just finished.”

Chan fidgets with the end of his shirt as Joshua leaves, casting one more empathetic smile at you, and the moment the older boy is gone, Chan steps closer towards you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t realise he was — you’re crying.” His change in tone is so abrupt, from apologetic to dead serious in half a second. ”What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, too high-pitched. “I’m fine now. It’s fine.”

“Was it Joshua?” he demands, already looking back in the direction his friend disappeared to. “What did he say?”

“What? No. It wasn’t him.” You try to change the subject. “I am older than you, you know, I don’t need to be babysat. I hope you didn’t interrupt your fun just to come looking for me.”

He smiles, but his eyes don’t. “Only by a year. And anyway, I have more fun with you.”

You hate that your mind flits back to that girl, the laughing one. “What about your friends? I saw you with, um, what’s her name? The pretty one, dark hair?”

Subtlety is not your strong suit.

Chan just blinks at you. “You mean Jana? Yeah, she wanted me to play beer pong against her and her girlfriend. But I did that.” Something untwists in your stomach. He steps closer, fishing a tissue out of nowhere, and with the tenderest touch, wipes at the makeup staining your cheeks.

He’s so close, you can see every individual eyelash. “Why? Were you jealous?” he asks lightly, referring to Jana as he uses one hand to cup your cheek and remove the dark mess under your eyes more carefully.

“No!” Your voice is harsher than intended, jerking out of his grip. and his eyes flick to yours with worry.

“I was kidding,” he says softly, frowning, “Is everything okay, teach?”

Alcohol blurs your rational thinking. You lean your forehead against his chest with the deepest sigh. “Sorry. Sorry.” A short breath. “Chan, I’m so tired.”

He wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back up and down. “Are you drunk?”

You shake your head. “I was tipsy, but I only had two drinks. I’m sober now. Just… exhausted.”

“I can take you home,” he murmurs against your ear; he’s so warm, he always is, but his touch sends goosebumps all over your skin. “Is that what you want?”

You lean back, look him in the eye, but neither of you let go of each other. Eye contact. From lesson one. “What’s the third lesson?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. Our last lesson. What’s it on?”

He’s silent for a minute. “I don’t know,” he replies, at last.

You cock your head to the side, questioningly, and it’s like something in him snaps, and the words come rushing out, stumbling into each other — “I’ve been making these up as I go along. On the spot.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised but too numb to feel it properly. “Why?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, looking defeated. “I don’t know. Well. I do. I just don’t know how to tell you.”

Something clicks for you. I’ve got a great teacher. You’re my favourite too. You look — pretty. I think you deserve to be happy. You look good in blue.

“Chan,” you say, taking an abrupt step back. Your voice is hoarse suddenly, scratchy with yet another realisation. “What colour is my dress?”

He looks utterly perplexed by your swift change in subject, but he obliges you anyway. “Blue. Why?”

“Do you remember,” you begin, voice shaking ever so slightly. This is the precipice. You’re taking the leap. God forbid you let yourself feel something — well, you are. “Do you remember a week ago? Lesson two?”

“Conversation,” he nods, and you can see his mind working a hundred miles an hour.

“I was wearing that sweater, and you said — ”

“You look good in blue,” he finishes at once. His eyes flit between you and the dress, and you see the exact moment it dawns on him; the light of comprehension. “But you — Joshua — ”

You shake your head at the question he doesn’t ask.

It’s like he’s frozen. A minute or a century passes, you’re not sure which, before his eyes meet yours again, filled with something heavy, raw, tender emotion. “How long?”

“Long enough,” you say, and then you’re kissing him, or he’s kissing you, you’re not sure who moves first, or if you move at the same time, but whatever it is — you’re melting into him and he is melting into you, and it’s like your heart gives a happy little sigh. Your shoulders relax, and the tension of the past few weeks evaporates in a few gentle touches.

You break apart with a soft little ‘tch’ sound, and he looks at you with full eyes and the shyest smile you’ve ever seen him wear.

“You know, technically, you’re still my student,” you say, slightly breathless, entirely giddy.

He rolls his eyes, tugging you back in already, sliding his arms around your waist. “Yeah, for a week.”

“And a half,” you add, as he begins to kiss up your neck. “You’d better ace your exam next week, after all our hard work.”

He presses his nose into your neck, huffing out a laugh. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re worried about. Now, of all things.”

“That’s what you should be worried about,” you say, bringing a hand up to his hair, running through it with your fingers as you’ve wanted to for so long. “That, and walking me home, maybe.”

“I fully intend to do at least one of those things,” he says, landing a chaste kiss on your lips. “We have a lot to talk about, you know. Starting with me asking you out. Properly.”

A hint of mischief appears in your smile. “Do well in your exam, and I’ll consider it.”

Chan pulls back, a familiar, confident smirk on his lips. “You have yourself a deal. But until then…”

“We’re still at a party,” you say, dodging his lips with a laugh, even though you really don’t want to. Not at all. “We can’t be that couple.”

He drops his forehead against yours. “We can be whatever the fuck we want. Nobody’s looking, anyway.”

And so you let him kiss you, again and again and again, until he walks you home, and does the same at your door, and the same in your living room. Over and over, making up for all the times he wanted to but couldn’t, he whispers. Your whole body softens at the weight of his hands, travelling the small of your back, cupping your cheek, squeezing your hips. His lips are on yours, and yours are on his, and everything makes sense. Everything adds up.

a/n: (yes another) i hate this so much but i think i’ve been dealing with it too long so im just going to. throw it out there. thank you for reading!!! i’d love to hear what you think!!!! hopefully i’ll venture into longfic more often <3

#seventeen fluff #chan fluff #dino fluff #dino x reader #chan x reader #seventeen x reader #dino comfort #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen headcanons #chan comfort #chan angst #dino angst #chan fic #dino fic

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leona-hawthorne · 1 month ago

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KINKTOBER #4– CAUGHT BETWEEN THE GLASS / lorenzo berkshire

october 10th predator/prey , semi-public + mirror sex

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

summary: a night of tension and innocent fun turns into a challenge between you and lorenzo at the carnival. if when he catches you in the mirror maze, he fucks you.

warnings: unprotected piv, fingering, semi-public sex, predator/prey dynamic, both lorenzo and reader are both a little high, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, 18+ content

words: 4.1k

a/n: idk how i feel about this one but here!

navigation kinktober masterlist

The carnival lights flickered like distant stars, casting multicolored hues that danced over the sprawling grounds, their glow stretching into long, dreamy shadows. The sounds of laughter, distant screams from the rides, and the hum of a lively tune blended together, as if submerged underwater.

Everything moved in sync with your heartbeat, your limbs loose and your skin tingling with a strange, buzzing warmth.

God, how many blunts had you and Enzo smoked?

Lorenzo walked beside you, his hand brushing yours occasionally, each fleeting touch sending sparks through your veins. You wiped the sweat from your brow, the sights around you blurring and blending together. “I think you’ve officially dragged me to every ride here,” you muttered.

Lorenzo laughed, the sound low and lazy, his grin stretching wide as he slung an arm over your shoulders. “Tapping out already?” He leaned in closer, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Oh, come on, love. We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

You rolled your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “The good part? We’ve done the rollercoaster twice, and you threw up on the ferris wheel.”

“Details,” he shrugged, his hazy eyes sparkling with amusement. “Besides, I had to— too much sugar.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Your voice was drenched in playful disbelief. Stepping away from him, you scanned the carnival, the cool air against your flushed skin a welcome reprieve. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you let the breeze settle your racing pulse.

When you opened them, Lorenzo was watching you, his grin more dangerous now, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea.”

You raised a brow. “That’s never a good sign.”

He pointed toward a towering, twisting structure in the distance, neon letters glowing above it: ‘Mirror Maze.’ The distorted reflections within flickered like ghosts, the sight sending a thrill through you. Equal parts excitement and dread.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Scared?” he teased, his voice laced with challenge.

“Of a maze?” you scoffed, lifting your chin. “Don’t think so little of me, Berkshire.”

“Then I’ll make it interesting.” Lorenzo stepped in front of you, his smirk deepening as he blocked your view. “I’ll give you a head start. Five minutes. Then I’ll come find you.”

Your heart skipped, and for a fleeting moment, your mind spun in a thousand directions.

“And what happens when you find me?” Your voice was softer than you intended.

His eyes darkened, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You’ll see.”

The way he said it, the way his gaze locked onto yours, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, trying to steady the weakness in your knees. “You think you can actually catch me?”

“Oh, I know I will.”

The challenge hung in the air, and you never could resist one.

Squaring your shoulders, you lifted your chin defiantly. “Alright, you’re on.”

Before you could take a step, Lorenzo’s hand shot out, catching your wrist and pulling you back to him. He leaned in close, his nose brushing the curve of your cheek as he whispered, voice thick with anticipation, “You should know… when I catch you, I don’t play fair.”

Your breath hitched, pulse spiking at the weight of his words. They lingered between you, heavy and full of promises you weren’t sure you were ready to unwrap.

“One minute, love,” he repeated, releasing your wrist, though his touch still burned on your skin. He nodded toward the maze. “You better run.”

Your eyes locked on his, the playful danger in them egging you on. Without another word, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest as you sprinted toward the maze, weaving through the crowd.

The neon lights grew brighter as you approached the maze, and with every step, the world seemed to spin just a little faster, the edges of your vision warping. You didn't look back. You couldn't. You weren’t sure what you'd feel if you saw him behind you, closing in already.

As you vanished into the twisting labyrinth of glass, Lorenzo watched until you were swallowed whole by the kaleidoscope of reflections. Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

This is gonna be fun.

He counted down under his breath—three, two, one—and set off after you, weaving between the crowds of screaming carnival-goers. The acrid scent of cotton candy and grease clung to the air, mixing with the haze of smoke still lingering on his tongue.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the ground tilting beneath his feet like a ship in rough seas. But he pressed on, driven by the thrill of the chase, the intoxicating promise of catching you in the endless hall of mirrors.

As he approached the entrance, the pulsing neon signs seemed to blur and distort, mirroring the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat.

Fuck, he was really stoned.

He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the cold door frame as he peered into the swirling vortex of reflections. A distorted version of himself grinned back, his own eyes glazed over with a hazy sheen.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed past the initial disorientation and stepped inside, immediately losing sight of the entrance behind him. The air inside the maze was heavy, almost suffocating, and the constant echo of footsteps reverberated off the mirrored walls.

Lorenzo squinted, trying to pierce the veil of reflections, searching for any glimpse of you. The longer he stood there, the more his senses began to warp, colors bleeding into each other, sounds morphing into strange, discordant melodies.

His patience wore thin, the competitive fire within him igniting once more.

The maze seemed to shift and change with every step, the mirrors twisting reality into an endless labyrinth of confusion. Your heart raced, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you navigated the dizzying array of reflections.

The tantalizing image of your figure kept showing between mirrors, only for a second or two each time, and it was driving him insane.

“I can see you, baby. You can’t hide,” he echoed, the crazed smile in his voice audible.

You heard the thudding of his footsteps somewhere in the maze, and you didn’t know whether to speed up or slow down your pace. You both knew you wanted him to catch you, but should you have given in so quickly?

You shook your head, trying to clear the cobwebs from your mind. The music from the carnival outside seemed to fade away, replaced by a dull roar that echoed through the corridors of glass.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye, a flicker of color amidst the sea of reflections. You whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat as you caught a glimpse of his silhouette darting between two mirrors.

"There you are," he growled under his breath, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

Without hesitation, he moved forward, his footsteps echoing loudly in the confined space. The mirrors seemed to blur around him as he ran, his blood pounding in his ears, fueled by a potent mix of adrenaline and desire.

He could hear your footsteps ahead, always just out of reach. The game was far from over, and he wasn't about to let you slip away so easily. With each passing second, the anticipation built within him, a primal hunger gnawing at his insides.

“You know what the deal is, pretty girl. Do us both a favor and stop running.” He gave a dark chuckle, his amusement palpable.

Up ahead, he spotted you again, a tantalizing glimpse of your curves as you weaved between the mirrors. His gaze lingered on the swell of your ass, the way your dress clung to your thighs as you moved.

With a final burst of energy, Lorenzo launched himself forward, arms outstretched to grab hold of you. The mirrors seemed to close in around him, distorting everything until he was surrounded by a dizzying array of reflections.

He collided with you in a tangle of limbs, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you hard against his body. The impact sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his cock twitching eagerly in response to the feel of your soft skin against his.

"You little tease," he panted, his lips brushing against your ear as he spun you around to face him. "Thought you could outrun me, huh?"

His fingers dug into your hips, kneading the flesh as he ground his erection against your belly. The mirror's cool surface pressed against your back, a contrast to the heat of his touch.

"I've got you now," he murmured, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "And I'm going to take my reward for catching you."

His hands roamed your body possessively, mapping out every curve and dip with greedy fingers. He leaned in closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear as he whispered huskily, “Such a naughty little girl. Of course this shit turns you on.”

One hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulled your hips flush against his own. The heat of his arousal was evident even through the layers of clothing separating you.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you thoroughly. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging lightly as he angled your head to grant him better access.

Breaking away, he fixed you with a smoldering look, his eyes dark with lust.

The intoxicating mix of lust and power coursing through him took hold completely as he gazed down at your upturned face. Your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the pleading expression in your eyes were enough to send him spiraling into a frenzy of desire.

"On your knees," he commanded gruffly, his voice low and rough with need. “Wrap those pretty lips around me.”

As if entranced, you sank to the floor without protest, your dress riding up your thighs as you went. Lorenzo watched intently, his cock straining painfully against his jeans, aching to be freed.

You giggled softly, a mischievous glint in your hazy eyes as you pressed a kiss to the bulge in his jeans. “Oh, so now you're punishing me for playing along too well?”

You looked up at him coyly, tracing a finger along the zipper of his jeans before slowly pulling it down. “Not much of a punishment to make me taste you, but I’ll take it.”

A groan escaped his lips as you freed his straining cock, the sight of it springing free almost too much to bear in its erect glory. He couldn't help but thrust slightly into your touch, already craving more of your attention.

"Fucking brat," he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips despite the intensity of his arousal. "You think teasing me is cute, huh?"

Reaching down, he gripped the base of his dick, guiding it towards your open mouth. "Open wide then. We both know good and fucking well you were waiting for me to catch you."

The commanding tone left no room for argument, and you obediently parted your lips, letting him slide the thick length past them. Lorenzo closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him, before looking back down at you with a satisfied grin.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you steady as he began to rock his hips, pushing deeper into your mouth. Your wet heat engulfed him perfectly, the velvety walls of your throat massaging his sensitive tip with each thrust.

"That's it, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take it all like a good girl."

The obscene sounds of your sucking filled the air, mingling with his grunts and groans of ecstasy. He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening as you worked him expertly with your tongue.

"Fuck, just like that," he gasped, his grip on your hair tightening. "Don't stop, keep going just like that..."

Your muffled moans vibrated deliciously around his shaft, spurring him on further.

As he continued to piston his cock in and out of your mouth, he reveled in the feeling of control, of owning your body so completely. The sound of your muffled whimpers only served to heighten his pleasure, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Suddenly, he slammed into the back of your throat, hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind his eyelids. Your gag reflex kicked in, and you struggled to breathe around him, but he didn't relent, driving forward relentlessly.

"Aww, looks like my little brat needs air," he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad, so sad. Funny thing, isn't it? You said this wasn't really a punishment," he taunted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "But here you are, face-fucked and drooling all over my dick. Looks like you were wrong, baby."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Lorenzo pounded mercilessly into your throat, but you refused to tap out, determined to prove yourself worthy of his brutal affections. Your jaw ached from being stretched wide around his girth, saliva pooling in your mouth and dripping down your chin and onto your thighs.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, silently begging for mercy even as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. Your hands came up to grip his muscular thighs, nails digging into the taut flesh as you steadied yourself against his relentless thrusts.

A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you choking violently, your throat constricting around him as you fought the urge to gag.

He reveled in your struggle, the way your throat spasmed around his cock, trying desperately to accommodate his punishing rhythm. The tears streaking down your face only fueled his dominant side, urging him to take you harder, to claim you utterly.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Take it all like the good little slut you are."

He held your head still, buried deep in your throat, relishing the flutter of your muscles as they tried futilely to expel him. Your nails raked across his thighs, leaving angry red welts in their wake, but the sting only heightened his pleasure.

After long moments, he finally withdrew, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging back in. He set a brutal pace, using your mouth like a personal cock sleeve, chasing his rapidly approaching climax.

The slick sounds of your gagging echoed obscenely off the mirrored walls surrounding you, a lewd symphony of depravity that only served to drive him wilder. He could feel his release barreling towards him like a freight train, body tensing up as he neared the edge, a hand tangling in your hair.

With a final moan, he buried himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself directly into your stomach. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

"Fuck yes, swallow it all," he demanded, grinding against your face as he rode out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. "You like it when I put that smart ass mouth of yours to work?”

He pulled out of your abused throat with a wet pop, watching with satisfaction as you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering. Strings of saliva connected your swollen lips to his softening cock, and he swiped a thumb across your cheek, collecting some of the mess there.

"So pretty," he murmured, bringing his thumb to your mouth and pressing it between your lips. “Stand.”

You managed a weak smile as he helped you stand, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Despite the lingering soreness in your throat, a sense of pride swelled within you.

"You're such an asshole," you joked hoarsely, rubbing your tender jaw.

His chuckle sent a shiver through you, and you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable bulge reappearing in his pants. You bit your lip, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

"You're insatiable. Can't get enough of me, hm?"

He smirked at your words, his eyes darkening with renewed desire as he pulled you flush against him. "Guilty as charged."

To punctuate his statement, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your teeth to tangle with yours. He swallowed your gasp, one hand sliding down to palm your ass possessively.

Breaking away, he nipped at your bottom lip before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. "And trust me, baby," he purred, his voice low and gravelly. "We're far from done here."

He turned you both around, pinning you chest-first against a gleaming mirror. Your reflection stared back, tits flattened against the cool glass, cheeks rosy. A deliciously perverse image that he savored for a moment before attacking the slender column of your neck.

His lips and teeth left a blazing trail, nipping and sucking at your tender skin. "You look so hot like this," he growled against your ear, one hand slipping under your dress to hike up the fabric and expose your soaked panties. "Want to feel you come undone in my arms."

His fingers deftly hooked into the waistband of your panties, pushing them down your thighs before dipping into your slick folds. Two thick digits plunged inside you, curling to stroke that sensitive spot deep within your core. "Mmm, always so ready for me, aren't you?"

A sharp intake of breath escaped you as his fingers delved into your heat, your back arching instinctively to press your center more firmly against his probing digits. Your knees nearly buckled at the intensity of sensation, and your hands pressed against the mirror for support.

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. "Fucking clearly.”

You could feel yourself teetering on the brink of climax already, his skilled touch stoking the flames of your desire to new heights.

He continued his sensual assault, alternating between slow, deep strokes and quick, shallow thrusts. His free hand slid up your body to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, kneading the supple mound roughly.

All the while, his lips never ceased their worship of your neck, painting your skin with open-mouthed kisses and teasing flicks of his tongue. He lapped at your pulse point before grazing it with his teeth, sending electric sparks of pleasure-pain racing through you.

"I want to feel you fall apart," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Come for me, baby. Let go."

A keening cry tore from your throat as his words and actions pushed you over the edge. Your inner walls clamped down around his pumping fingers, quivering and rippling in a violent climax.

"Yes, fuck! Oh god!" you wailed, your hips jerking erratically against his hand as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of your release.

As the tremors slowly subsided, you slumped against the mirror, panting heavily. Your legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold you upright.

He gentled his touch as your orgasm subsided, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your twitching channel. A smear of your arousal glistened on his digits, and he brought them to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied hum.

Turning you around, he claimed your mouth in a deep, languid kiss, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your spent passion. His hands roamed your curves, soothing and caressing, until you were limp and pliant in his embrace.

"You're incredible," he whispered against your lips, brushing a stray lock of hair from your flushed face. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm never letting you go."

With a low growl of possessiveness, he swept you up into his arms, hoisting you effortlessly by the waist to press your back against the mirrored wall. His strong hands gripped your thighs, parting your legs to accommodate his growing erection. He ground his hard length against your slick heat, the friction deliciously torturous.

Your head lolled back against the cool glass as he pinned you there, a moan escaping your parted lips at the exquisite pressure of his cock rubbing against your aching core. The heat of his body enveloped you, making you feel small and delicate in his grasp.

"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him closer. "Just fuck me."

Your hand fisted in his hair, guiding his face to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You lost yourself in the taste and scent of him, your other hand reaching down to guide his tip to your entrance.

With a primal grunt, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming heat. Your wetness enveloped him like a velvet vice, and he paused for a moment, savoring the perfect fit.

Then, with a snap of his hips, he began to move, driving into you with powerful, relentless strokes. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the air, punctuated by your wanton cries and his guttural groans.

He angled his thrusts to hit that sweet spot deep inside you, determined to push you over the edge again, his hands moving down to your ass to support you.

"You take me so well," he panted, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

Your nails dug into Lorenzo's shoulders as he pistoned into you, each forceful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The way he filled you, stretched you, made you feel owned and desired in the most primal way possible.

"Oh fuck, yes!" you sobbed, your hips rising to meet his, eager for more of that delicious friction. "Harder, baby, fuck me harder!"

The filthy words spilled from your lips unbidden, your inhibitions shattered by the intense sensations coursing through you. You were completely lost in the rhythm of your joining, driven by nothing but the all-consuming need for release.

Your reflections danced across the labyrinthine mirrors as he pounded into you, creating an endless array of perverse images, all while your combined moans echoed through the narrow space. Perks of being in the house of mirrors.

His pace became brutal, almost punishing, as he chased his own release. Sweat beaded on his brow, trickling down to mingle with the dusting of stubble on his jawline. The lewd slap of skin against skin reverberated through the confined space, interspersed with your fevered pleas and his ragged breathing.

"That's it, Y/N, let go," he urged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Come for me again, now."

With a final, savage thrust, he sent you hurtling over the precipice once more. Your sex clenched around him, milking his cock as your orgasm crashed through you in devastating waves. The feeling of your pussy spasming wildly around him was enough to send him careening after you, his own climax ripping through him with a deep groan.

He collapsed against you, his forehead resting against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. His softening cock slipped out of you, a rush of mingled fluids following in its wake.

For a long moment, he simply held you, his heart pounding against your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your trembling form. Slowly, the haze of lust began to clear, replaced by a warm, sated glow.

"You okay?" he murmured, pulling back just far enough to search your face with concerned eyes.

You leaned into his embrace, relishing the comforting weight of his body pressed against yours. Despite the lingering ache between your thighs and the sticky evidence of your actions dripping down your leg, you'd never felt more content.

"I’m okay," you purred, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Gently, he set you down on shaky legs, keeping a steadying arm around your waist. He took a moment to admire the disheveled state you were in - hair mussed, dress askew, lipstick smudged, and skin flushed with exertion and satisfaction.

"You look insane," he teased, brushing a stray curl from your cheek. "But also ridiculously beautiful."

His thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, pulling you in for one last kiss, this one softer than before.

Your lips moved lazily against his, savoring the gentle affection. As the kiss broke, you smiled up at him, still basking in the afterglow.

“Next time, you won’t catch me. I guarantee it.”

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @sleepiibunniiii @chemtrailsoverhogwarts @daenerystorgaryen @catching-fire-in-the-wind @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x y/n #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x reader #louis partridge #slytherin boys #harry potter #slytherin #smut #kinktober #leona-hawthorne kinktober

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23victoria · 4 months ago

Text

slam!

pairings: f1 grid x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cussing, sexual innuendos, manipulation ig, lying in a way, it’s a prank, fluff

authors note: first official fic since my writing slump! i hope it’s okay! and im so so sorry if it’s ass lol, also you can see where i had no inspiration vs. where i did…please ignore that 😭, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

want to be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

Charles

The drive to the mall was filled with easy conversation and laughter. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the city as you and Charles made your way through the bustling streets. Charles had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your thigh, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you.

You had planned this trip to Sephora for weeks now, eager to replenish your makeup supplies and maybe splurge on some new products. Charles had tagged along, promising to help you pick out new shades and scents, even though you knew he was more excited about the ice cream shop next door.

As you pulled into the parking lot, you felt a mischievous idea brewing in your mind. You wanted to test Charles' patience and see how he would react to a sudden, nonsensical argument. You knew it was silly, but something about the idea made you giggle internally.

Charles parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he was about to open his door, you decided to strike.

"Why do you always do that?" you snapped, turning to him with an exaggerated huff.

Charles froze, his hand still on the door handle. "Do what?" he asked, clearly puzzled by your sudden change in tone.

"You know what you did," you said, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

Charles blinked, completely taken aback. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Y/N. Can you please explain?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Every single time we go somewhere, you always do this! It's like you don't even care!"

Charles' brow furrowed, confusion written all over his face. "What did I do? I parked the car! What's wrong with that?"

"Never mind," you said, shaking your head and opening your door. "Just forget it, Charles. I'm going to Sephora."

Before he could respond, you slammed the car door shut with a loud bang, making sure to give it an extra push for emphasis. You could see his bewildered expression through the window as you stormed off toward the mall entrance.

Charles sat in the car for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. His initial confusion slowly turned into a mix of frustration and concern. Had he really done something to upset you? He replayed the last few minutes in his mind, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

With a deep sigh, he got out of the car and locked it, jogging slightly to catch up with you. He found you standing in front of Sephora, arms still crossed and a pout on your lips.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice a mix of irritation and worry. "Can we please talk about this?"

You turned to him, your expression softening just a fraction. "What's there to talk about, Charles? You always do this."

"Do what?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "I really don't understand."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. "You always park too close to the other cars. It makes it hard for me to get out."

Charles' eyes widened in realization, and he let out a relieved laugh. "That's what this is about? Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. I'll be more careful next time, I promise."

You felt a pang of guilt for making him worry, but the sight of his relieved smile made it worth it. You uncrossed your arms and took a step closer to him.

"Okay, fine," you said, your voice softening. "I forgive you. But you better not do it again."

Charles reached out and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I promise, I won't," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now, let's go get your makeup."

You smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "And ice cream?"

"And ice cream," he agreed, pulling back to look at you with a grin. "Anything for you."

"Charles," you said, lifting your head up from his chest. "I have to confess something."

Charles looked at you with curiosity. "What is it, love?"

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of guilt and amusement. "I wasn’t really mad at you... it was a joke. I wanted to see how you'd react."

Charles blinked in surprise, then let out a chuckle. "You little troublemaker," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist. "You had me worried there for a moment."

"I'm sorry," you said, standing on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I spoil you with whatever you want from the ice cream shop?"

Charles grinned, his eyes lighting up. "I think I can forgive you for that. As long as I get to pick the flavors."

"Deal," you said, smiling up at him. "And I'll throw in a foot massage later, too."

"Now you're talking," Charles said, giving you a playful squeeze. "Just don't make a habit of these fake arguments, alright?"

"I promise," you said, kissing him again. "No more fake arguments. Just lots of love and ice cream."

Charles laughed, pulling you close. "That's all I need."

Lewis

The sun was shining brightly as you and Lewis drove to your favorite ice cream shop. The plan was to enjoy a treat and then stroll through the nearby park. Lewis had been looking forward to this all week, a rare weekend off from the rigorous F1 schedule.

As you approached the shop, an idea formed in your mind. You decided to playfully test Lewis with a fake argument, curious to see his reaction.

Lewis parked the car smoothly, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for the door handle, you pounced.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Lewis turned to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Do what, babe?"

"Every time we go somewhere, you always find a way to make it about you," you said, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

Lewis looked genuinely puzzled. "What are you talking about, Y/N? We're getting ice cream. How is this about me?"

You sighed dramatically. "You always pick the spot to park without asking me if it's okay. It's like you don't even care about my opinion."

Lewis blinked, trying to process your sudden outburst. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't realize that bothered you. I just thought it was a good spot."

"Never mind," you said, shaking your head and opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You got out of the car and slammed the door behind you, glancing back to see Lewis sitting in stunned silence. You felt a pang of guilt but continued walking toward the ice cream shop.

Lewis quickly recovered and followed you inside, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. He caught up to you as you reached the counter.

"Y/N, wait," he said softly, touching your arm. "I'm really sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to."

You turned to him, your annoyance melting away at the sight of his sincere eyes. "It's just… sometimes I feel like you don't consider my opinions."

Lewis nodded, his face serious. "I understand. I promise I'll be more mindful in the future. I never want you to feel like I don't care."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Okay, I forgive you. Now, let's get some ice cream."

Lewis grinned, pulling you into a quick hug. "Thank you. And I'll let you pick the spot next time."

As you ordered your ice cream and found a cozy spot to sit, you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for starting the argument. But Lewis' genuine concern and quick apology made you appreciate him even more.

After a few bites of your ice cream, you decided it was time to come clean. "Lewis," you began, looking up at him with a sheepish smile.

"Yes, love?" he replied, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"I have a confession to make," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "That argument just now… it was a joke. I was bored and I just wanted to see how you'd react."

Lewis stared at you for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You really had me there, Y/N! I was so worried I did something wrong."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I get you that perfume you wanted from Dior?”

Lewis' eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "You don't have to spoil me, love. But I'll take you up on that offer. And maybe a massage later?"

"Absolutely," you said, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Anything for you."

Max

The drive to the mall was filled with excitement. Max had promised to help you pick out a new pair of sneakers, and you were looking forward to spending the day together. As you approached the mall, you decided to prank Max. Max parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. As he reached for his phone to check the time, you decided to that’s was your “issue”.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Max looked up at you, clearly puzzled. "Do what?"

"You always check your phone right when we arrive somewhere," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you're more interested in your phone than spending time with me."

Max blinked, taken aback. "I was just checking the time, Y/N. I didn't mean anything by it."

"It feels like you're always distracted," you continued, pretending to be upset. "Like I have to compete for your attention."

Max's expression softened with concern. "I'm sorry if it feels that way. I promise I'm here with you, 100%. I just wanted to make sure we weren't late."

"Never mind," you said, opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You slammed the car door behind you and walked toward the mall entrance, leaving Max sitting there, clearly confused and worried. You glanced back to see him frowning, running a hand through his hair.

Max quickly got out of the car and caught up with you. "Y/N, wait. Did I really do something wrong?"

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face. "It's just frustrating when it feels like I'm not your priority."

Max sighed deeply, his eyes full of regret. "I'm so sorry. I'll make sure to put my phone away and focus on us. I never want you to feel like you're second to anything."

You felt a wave of guilt but maintained your act. "Okay, fine. Just don't let it happen again."

Max nodded earnestly. "I promise. Let's go find those sneakers."

As you both wandered through the mall, Max was extra attentive, making sure to engage in conversation and keep his phone tucked away. You started to feel bad for starting the fake argument but were also touched by his efforts.

As soon as you neared the sneaker store, you decided it was time to come clean. "Max," you said, looking at him with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes full of concern.

"I need to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "I was just messing with you earlier, I was never mad at you for checking your phone. I just wanted to prank you and see how you'd react."

Max stared at you for a moment before chuckling softly. "I was so worried I did something to upset you. You really had me there, baby."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I buy you anything you want from the next store?"

Max's eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't have to, but I won't say no to that offer."

"And I'll bake you your favorite cookies later," you added, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Anything to make it up to you."

Max grinned, pulling you into a hug. "Sounds like a perfect evening to me baby."

Lando

The drive to the electronics store was filled with excitement. Lando had been talking about getting a pc setup and you were looking forward to helping him pick one out. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to play a little prank on Lando.

Lando parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he was about to step out, you struck.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Lando turned to you, genuinely confused. "Do what?"

"You always take forever to decide on things," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you can't make up your mind about anything."

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. "I just like to weigh my options. What's wrong with that?"

"It feels like you're wasting time," you said, pretending to be annoyed. "Like you don't care about getting things done quickly."

Lando's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "I'm sorry if it bothers you. I just want to make sure we make the right choice."

"Never mind," you said, opening your door. "I'm going inside."

You slammed the car door behind you and walked toward the store, leaving Lando sitting there, clearly puzzled and a bit hurt. You glanced back to see him frowning, trying to figure out what just happened.

Lando quickly got out of the car and caught up with you. "Y/N, wait, what are you so mad? I don’t understand. Did I really do something wrong?"

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face. "It's just frustrating when it feels like you can't make a decision."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't realize it was an issue. I'll try to be quicker next time, I promise."

You felt a pang of guilt but maintained your act. "Okay, fine. Just don't let it happen again."

Lando nodded earnestly. "I promise. Let's go."

As you both wandered through the store, you decided it was time to come clean. "Lando," you said, looking at him with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes full of concern.

"I need to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous. "I’m not mad that you take time to weigh out your options. It’s one of the things I love about you! I was just bored and decided to play a prank on you."

Lando stared at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Y/N….you had me so worried. I was like “What the fuck?! Why is she mad?!’ I was so worried I did something to upset you, I was about to take you to Marc Jacobs to get you that purse and perfume you wanted."

"I'm sorry," you said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I didn't mean to mess with your feelings. To make it up to you, how about I buy you with anything you want from a store of your choosing?"

Lando's eyes lit up with amusement. "You don't have to, but I won't say no to that offer."

"And I'll give you a special massage later," you added, leaning in to kiss him softly on his neck.

Lando grinned, pulling you into a hug. "How about we go home now for that massage hmm."

"Nope, we have to get our things first! And then we can go home." you said, smiling at him and winking.

Carlos

The drive to the new restaurant you both had been eager to try was filled with excitement. Carlos had been talking about the place for weeks, and you were looking forward to a nice dinner together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test Carlos's patience with a fake argument.

Carlos parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his wallet, you struck.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Carlos turned to you, genuinely puzzled. "Do what?"

"You always insist on paying for everything," you said, crossing your arms. "It's like you don't think I can take care of myself."

Carlos blinked, clearly taken aback. "I just want to treat you. What's wrong with that?"

"It feels like you're undermining my independence," you continued, pretending to be upset. "Like you don't think I can contribute."

Carlos's expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. "Y/N, this is ridiculous. I'm just trying to help."

You opened your mouth to continue, but Carlos cut you off. He leaned over, his hand gripping your neck gently but firmly, pulling you close. His eyes bore into yours with a mix of authority and affection.

"I don't want to hear that nonsense," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I pay for everything and will always pay for everything. You're my girl, and I love to spoil you and buy you whatever you want. Complain all you want, but nothing is changing. Anything that has a price on it, I buy it. Not you. End of discussion."

Before you could respond, Carlos pressed his lips against yours in a rough, passionate kiss that left you breathless. When he pulled back, he released your neck and stepped out of the car, leaving you stunned. A moment later, he came around to your side, opened the door, and helped you out, his hand gently guiding you.

You were still silent as you walked towards the restaurant, your mind racing from the intensity of the moment. Finally, you found your voice. "That was hot... really, really hot…and sexy. I think…I wet myself a little bit."

Carlos laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Good to know," he whispered in your ear, his hand giving your ass a playful slap. "Just wait until later, baby. I'll show you more of what you like."

Oscar

The drive to the new amusement park was filled with excitement. Oscar had been talking about going on the latest roller coasters for weeks, and you were looking forward to a fun-filled day together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to play a little prank on Oscar to see how he would react.

Oscar parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his backpack, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Oscar looked up at you, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“You always decide which rides we go on first,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I can pick something fun.”

Oscar blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just thought you liked the same rides as me. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t trust my choices,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like my voice doesn't matter.”

Oscar’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was ignoring your feelings baby.”

“Well, it does,” you said, opening your door. “Maybe you should think about that.”

Oscar quickly got out of the car and came around to your side, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. “Y/N, wait. I really didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk about this?”

You turned to him, trying to keep a straight face but starting to feel bad about the prank. “Oscar, it’s just frustrating when it feels like you don’t consider my choices.”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I had no idea you felt this way. From now on, we’ll make all the decisions together. I promise.”

You couldn’t keep up the act any longer and burst into laughter. “Oscar, I’m so sorry baby. It was just a prank. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

Oscar stared at you for a moment before chuckling softly. “You really had me there, Y/N. I was so scared that I really messed up.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to hold his hand. “I didn’t mean to mess with your feelings. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

Oscar grinned, pulling you into a hug. “Well, you got me good. But next time, maybe pick a less heart-stopping prank, okay?”

You laughed, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad. “Deal. Now, let’s go enjoy the carnival?”

Oscar nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Absolutely. And you can choose the first ride.”

“We are definitely doing the Kingda Ka roller coaster first.” you said with a smile on your face.

As you walked towards the entrance of the amusement park, you knew the day was going to be filled with laughter, thrills, and unforgettable moments.

Sebastian

The drive to the new bookstore was filled with excitement. Sebastian had been talking about a new release he was eager to get his hands on, and you were looking forward to spending some quiet time browsing the shelves together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test his patience with a fake argument.

Seb parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his reusable shopping bag, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Seb looked up at you, genuinely puzzled. “Do what?”

“You always insist on carrying everything,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I’m strong enough to help.”

Seb blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just want to make it easier for you. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t think I can handle it,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like you don’t trust me to carry my weight.”

Seb’s expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. “Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’m just trying to help.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but Seb interrupted you. “Enough, baby. Arguing about this is pointless. I’m going to carry the bags because I want to. And I like taking care of you. Deal with it.”

Before you could respond, Sebastian grabbed your hair gently but firmly and pulled you into a rough kiss. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that made your heart race. When he finally pulled back, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of authority and affection.

“Understand?” he asked softly.

You nodded, still a bit breathless. “Yes, sir.”

Sebastian smiled and released his hold on your hair, his eyes softening. “Good. Now, let’s go find that book.”

Jenson

The drive to the local farmer’s market was filled with anticipation. Jenson had been excited to pick out fresh ingredients for dinner, and you were looking forward to spending a relaxing afternoon together. As you pulled into the parking lot, you decided to test his patience with a fake argument.

Jenson parked the car, and you both unbuckled your seat belts. Just as he reached for his shopping list, you struck.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked, your tone sharp and accusing.

Jenson looked up at you, genuinely puzzled. “Do what?”

“You always decide what we’re having for dinner and pick out all the ingredients,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s like you don’t think I can handle it or make a decision.”

Jenson blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just want to make sure we have a great meal. What’s wrong with that?”

“It feels like you don’t trust my cooking skills,” you continued, pretending to be upset. “Like my preferences don’t matter.”

Jenson’s expression shifted from confusion to mild annoyance. “Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’m just trying to make sure tonight’s meal is special.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but Jenson interrupted you. He leaned over, his hand gripping your neck gently but firmly, pulling you close. His eyes bore into yours with a mix of authority and affection.

“I don’t want to hear that nonsense,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I pick the ingredients and plan the meals because I enjoy doing it for us. Plus, this argument is stupid because you cooked dinner for us two days ago.”

Before you could respond, Jenson pressed his lips against yours in a rough, passionate kiss that left you breathless. When he pulled back, he released your neck and stepped out of the car, leaving you stunned. A moment later, he came around to your side, opened the door, and helped you out, his hand gently guiding you.

As you walked toward the market, you found your voice. “I didn’t expect that reaction. It lowkey turned me on.”

Jenson turned to you with a smirk on his face, “Lowkey?”

“Okay, yes that definitely turned me on.” you said, turning away shyly.

Jenson chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, I guess I really know how to handle you then.”

You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “It was just a prank, but if that’s how you’re going to react, I definitely have to pull some more.”

Jenson laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t need to, baby. You get me like this just by being yourself.”

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Are you sure we need to cook dinner? I’m sure we can just go home now and do something very, very important first. We can order some takeout after.”

Jenson smirked, his eyes darkening with desire. “As much as I would love that, we are cooking this meal. But after we’re done, we will definitely do that something.”

He winked at you, making your heart race with anticipation.

taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @xoscar3 @jimcarreyfann42 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206 @revolutionsingingintherain

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vanteguccir · 4 months ago

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can you do a fluff fic with matt for his birthday please? like shes in the birthday vlog? LOVE YOU

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where you make a small appearance on the car video on the triplets 21st birthday

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The car's interior was bathed in the dim light of the dashboard and roof, the glow from the parking lot's lights casting soft shadows across the faces of Matt, Chris, and Nick. The triplets were huddled together, laughter bubbling up as they filmed their latest video.

"If you could give a caveman one thing from Modern time to, like, absolutely blow his socks off, what would it be? 'Cause I already know what mine would be." Nick asked, grinning to the others, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Matt snorted, muttering that he couldn't say his to Chris before Nick interrupted him.

"Vibrator, dildo...?"

Chris made a face before smiling knowingly to Matt.

"No, we're in the same ballpark here." Matt pointed to the youngest, one of his eyebrows going up.

The video cut for a second before it came back to the three brothers bursting into laughter. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice the time slipping by.

Inside the restaurant, Y/N was finishing up their order. She glanced at her phone, noting it was just a few minutes past midnight. Smiling to herself, she gathered the bags of food and made her way outside.

Approaching the car, she could hear the muffled sound of their voices and laughter. She tapped gently on the window beside Matt, causing him to jump slightly, turning to her direction and searching the dark space with his eyes before recognizing her.

He rolled down the window, a wide smile spreading across his face almost automatically.

"Hey baby, what’s up?"

"Happy birthday, you three!" Y/N beamed, leaning into the car to give Matt a small, sweet kiss on the lips. "You're officially 21 now."

The triplets looked at each other in surprise.

"Is it midnight already?" Chris asked, picking Matt's phone from the center console, checking the time.

Nick shook his head, a grin breaking out.

"Oh my God, we didn’t even notice."

Matt pulled Y/N into a quick hug through the window, kissing her cheek lovingly.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're the best."

Y/N smiled warmly at them.

"Finish up your video, and then we can celebrate properly. I’ve got food waiting inside."

With that, she gave Matt one last peck on the cheek and headed back into the restaurant, leaving the triplets to wrap up their video. Their hearts were a little lighter, their smiles a little brighter, knowing that this birthday was already off to the perfect start.

I LOVE YOU MORE 🩷🤭😭

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #fluff #blurb

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hazbinshusk · 6 months ago

Text

blitzø x reader. blitzø is still feeling like shit after what happened at ozzie's, and moxxie isn't helping any. you step in on his behalf, much to your boss' surprise. fluff and angst. adult language (duh), references to sex. 1.3k

(first time writing blitzø/helluva boss, so please, all feedback will be appreciated).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You jump in your seat at Luna’s desk as the office door slams open, cursing under your breath as the movement caused you to spill coffee on the wood in front of you. The hellhound usually rolled into work whenever Blitzø did, and you often covered the phones until the two of them showed up. Still, after a few vague text messages from her this morning, you weren’t sure they were ever going to make it in.

So, you’re surprised to see Blitzø slouching into the office relatively early, Luna at his heel with her nose in her phone. The imp has dark sunglasses firmly in place on his face and a deep scowl marring his features. Between that and the extra-large coffee cup clutched in his hand, you decide against your usual morning greeting.

Moxxie, on the other hand, apparently has less reservations about kicking that particular hornet’s nest. “Good morning, sir. I need to talk to you about last night.”

“What?”

“As you may recall, I told you that our reservation last night was just for Millie and I, and—”

Blitzø’s scowl deepens. “Shut the fuck up, Mox.”

And with that, your boss stomps across the office and slams his own door behind him without so much as acknowledging the rest of you.

After a pregnant moment of silence, you vacate Loona’s seat and turn to the imps. “Okay, what the fuck did I miss last night?”

Millie frowns, her hand squeezing Moxxie’s shoulder. “Kind of… a lot.”

***

You raise a brow as the imp couple finally finish relaying everything you had missed at Ozzie’s the night before. Casting a glance towards Blitzø’s still firmly closed door, you nod slowly as you absorb the story. You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee as Moxxie officially finishes his rant.

“So…” you say slowly, taking a seat on the sofa. “Did you thank him?”

“Did we what?”

“Thank him.” you repeat, holding up a hand when Moxxie opens his mouth to object. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s messed up that he was there, but to hear you tell it, you didn’t even know he was there until he stood up for you. In front of Verosika Mayday and that Fizzarolli guy. Two people he clearly has issues with.”

Millie casts her husband a guilty look, Moxxie still staring at you with one finger raised and his mouth hanging open with a forgotten argument.

“She’s got a point,” Loona interjects dryly without looking up from her phone.

“So…” you continue with a sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “He put his dignity on the line in front of you guys and Stolas and every other chuckle-fuck in that place, and guys are mad at him?”

“We told him—”

“I know what you told him. But you know what he’s like.” you interrupt, waving a hand at Moxxie. “And I’m sorry, but you’re the asshole who decided to sing a love song in the middle of the King of Lust’s own club. As romantic as that is, Mox, it was really dumb. Like, trying to get Mammon to participate in a charity drive dumb.”

Millie pouts thoughtfully, folding her arms across her chest. “I guess we didn’t think of it like that.”

“I’m just sayin’…” you shrug a shoulder, finishing off the last of your coffee. “You should take it easy on Blitzø, is all. He… means well.”

***

Living in hell isn’t exactly a picnic, but waking up that night to a violent thumping on the front door is still, thankfully, rare. Groaning in annoyance as you’re dragged unwillingly from the comfort of your mattress, you roll over to grope blindly for the baseball bat you keep under the bed. The pounding continues as you clamber out of bed and make your way blearily to the door on the other side of your studio apartment.

“Alright, asshole, I’m coming. For fuck’s—” you break off as you unlock the door and jerk it open. “Blitzø?! What in the ever-loving fuck are you—”

“The fuck did you do it for?”

Your frown deepens, confused and still half asleep. Still, you set the bat down and step aside to wave him into the apartment before the neighbors get involved. You flinch as he slams the door behind him. “Do what?”

“Don’t give me that shit!” he spits back at you, swaying slightly where he stands. Great, you have a drunk, angry Blitzø on your hands. “Tell me why!”

“Dude, it’s currently…” you sigh irritably, casting a glance towards the clock glowing on your stove. “…almost four in the morning. If you want me to understand what the fuck you’re talking about, you’re gonna have to be specific.”

He clenches his teeth together, his fists balled tightly. He grinds out the words, like it physically pains him to say anything at all. “That shit you said to Mox about me.”

“Oh.”

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘oh’?”

You rub the sleep out of your eye with the heel of your hand. Instead of answering, you turn and make your way back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “How’d you get here?”

“I— what?”

“Did Loona drop you off?”

Blitzø rolls his eyes, beyond irritated by the change of subject. “Christ on a stick, why does it matter? I fuckin’ drove myself, okay?”

“It matters because you are so not driving yourself home tonight.” you exhale, swinging your legs up onto the bed and pulling the covers up over your lap. “So, you comin’ to bed, or what?”

Blitzø jabs a finger at you belligerently. “You think you can just distract me by lettin’ me nail your sweet bitch-ass, is—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Blitzø,” you shake your head, exasperated. “I said that shit because it’s true. You put your ass on the line to defend your friends in front of people from your past and Stolas! You did a nice thing because you’re a nice guy and I think you deserve credit for it! It’s not that deep!”

He stops as though you’d knocked the wind out of him, the anger smoothed from his features. Instead, he just looks… surprised. “…You think I’m nice?”

You sigh, patting the mattress beside you. “Just… let’s just sleep, alright? We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

He eyes you almost suspiciously for a long moment, fists still curled by his sides. You roll your eyes, making a show of laying back and making yourself comfortable. He groans dramatically, tossing his head back in an exaggerated eye roll before stomping over to join you. You close your eyes as he sheds his jacket and kicks off his boots, grumbling all the while. Still, you feel his bravado fail him as he reaches the bed, and he hesitates there at the edge of it until you lift the edge of the blankets for him.

Blitzø clambers up onto the mattress beside you, letting you fold the covers back over him. He shuffles closer to you awkwardly, and you feel his hand brush against your arm for a second before he pulls it away again. Reaching out, you catch it with yours, interlacing your fingers with his. You feel him stiffen for a moment before he squeezes it back.

“Can’t believe I finally got your hot little ass into bed and all we’re doin’ is holdin’ hands,” he mutters. He doesn’t, for once, actually sound like he’s complaining. “This is some M&M level bullshit.”

You hum in amusement, and even with your eyes closed, you can feel his face only inches from yours. “Trust me, Blitzø, when I do fuck your brains out, you’re gonna want to be sober enough to remember it in the morning.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then…

“When you WHAT?!”

#blitzo #blitzo x reader #helluva boss #my fic #helluva boss x reader #blitz posting #blitz #blitz x reader #blitzø #blitzø x reader #blitzø helluva boss #blitz fic

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felassan · 4 months ago

Text

Snippets. 🐺💜 DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Kala has heard rumors that there may be merch pins coming of Assan and Manfred [source]

(Previous comment for context - Dev Brenon: "You can sprint, there is also a dash/dodge move you can do for short range mobility - though I don't tend to use that much when exploring.") A user asked on this, "Will it be a push-to-sprint key, a sprint toggle, or other (to be explained later)?". Brenon replied with some more detail on this feature: "Right now it's a pseudo-toggle, you press it once (while moving) to start sprinting and then as long as you keep moving you keep sprinting. If you let got of the movement controls, you stop sprinting." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

User: "if a choice i made 30 hours ago affects me.. best believe im restarting the whole game". Brenon: "Uh oh''. User: "UH OH???". Brenon: "I mean... we do have "decision saves" before big choice moments, but there are still a bunch that depend on a whole mess of stuff you've done earlier... so... yeah... RIP :P" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

They hope to get a bunch more BioWare-themed emojis for the Discord [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Trick Weekes has been signing DA:TV stuff with "with love and appreciation for your patience" [source]

Carly: "theres so much id love to say, but i unfortunately can't , that being said, i hear y'all and love working on a game for such passionate people and hope y'all enjoy when it does come out 💕" [source]

Actor signing attendees report that it was amazing and that we're in good hands with this acting cast. You can see more photos from it here [source].

Dev signing attendees report that it was packed. You can see another photo from it here [source]. and here is a photo of the sign from it [source]

Another photo of the booth [source]. Sometimes at the booth the devs had a Solas statue [source] (this is done by Dark Horse). I think Dark were also displaying somewhere a Varric and a Cassandra statue too, and I think these were the ones that Dark Horse do too (Varric, Cass), but I can't find the image or video where I originally saw this anymore, sorry >.<

The companion tarot-style art from the website was shown on the big screen at the acting panel [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee: John Epler said that this is the best group of companions written because of their relationships with each other, not just Rook. They can become friends, lovers, rivals with each other. Zach thought that Lucanis was the coolest character he gets to play. It sounds like he mentioned Illario [I'm assuming] by name. Lucanis is quick-witted. Neve is a bit of a romantic. Jessica found voice acting freeing as it felt like playing pretend when she was little. In her role, she felt like she could embrace being very powerful. Neve is passionate. On Emmrich, "wisdom, calm to group, warm-hearted, loves learning". Emmrich has some fantastic lines. Along with working with Varric to track down Solas, Harding has also been working with Rook and Neve. Ali talked a lot about how much collaboration there is between BioWare, the actors and the material they're given to work with. Harding has been through some things and has more of an edge to her, but they can't talk about it! [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Jessica Clark: "A lot of the time, we kind've really all bonded in the way that we were intended to, you know? And that's why we've been so excited all week and all weekend, because we can be like 'oh my god you're here', 'oh my god you're here, you're here, you're here', finally, you know? You know, I know on a lot of projects people are like 'oh yeah, we're all like, we love each other', but we really do, we really really do, and it just evolved so organically, and there was something magical about it just being our voices in the beginning, you know, like, sort've taking anything else out of the [equation.]" [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Nick Boraine: "I think I've been preparing for Emmrich all my life. I was very attracted to the role initially, and I was so, I was so, I was overjoyed when I got it, because I think it was, the writing of Emmrich is really fascinating, it's this, this man that is obsessed with death, on one hand, but on death as a comfort, death as a transition, death as something that is not scary, and that, that ability to enable people to transition and the investment that he gives in that sphere, which we don't give in our own lives. I was immediately attracted to that and I thought that that was, I'd never seen that before, so to go in these two ways, to talk about death and to talk about it in a way that is kind, and that the transition becomes a kind transition, that was fascinating to me, and I think, will be fascinating to you too." [source]

A few more details from the actor panel, from an attendee - Zach Mendez: "[before they started shooting] I did kinda get an idea about how passionate the fanbase was, which made me really excited. I don't wanna say nervous, because I don't say I'm nervous, I say I'm excited. And so, before the first day of shoot, I was very excited. And luckily, you know, Ashley and them, didn't have me do too much on the first day. I played a lot of darkspawn. I darkspawn-ed my ass off, though. I want you guys to know, I really. And when I got home, I thought to myself, 'Zach, did you darkspawn hard enough?' I was just worried. You know, and within an hour I got texts from Jeff, who's a part of this cast as well, and G, telling me what a great job I did, and then I'll never forget, I got a call from Ali Hillis down here, and I'll remember that conversation, because for thirty minutes she made me feel like I was welcome in the Dragon Age family, and it gave me so much confidence moving forwards. So thank you, Ali, so much, I still remember that." [source]

[Character limit text break!]

Varric and Manfred: "not romanceable" [source] ?

Neve mostly eats deep-fried fish [source], it makes up the bulk of her diet [source]

Bellara loves pan-fried fish [source]

John on SDCC: "thank you to everyone who came out to the signing. thank you to everyone who came out to the panel. thank you to everyone who said hi, swung by the booth, or otherwise expressed how excited you were about the game. absolutely amazing experience. was wonderful to see you all" [source]

There's a lot of lovely concept art for DA:TV [source]

Trick Weekes: "One of the things I was proudest of was inviting leads from other teams/departments into writing peer reviews and having them later say, "Wow, those critiques went deep, but everyone stayed professional and compassionate the whole time." My junior-most writer knew she could tell me I was wrong." [source]

Violet: "As we get closer to DATV, I just want to send out a reminder Var lath vir suledin 😭" [source]

Derek on the casting department: "They really did an incredible job! Every single one of these folks deliver such amazing performances." [source]

Derek: "a lot of great talent doing awesome stuff from KY nowadays. I count myself extremely lucky that I can work on such an amazing project with such a wonderful team straight from my home state!" [source]

Michael Gamble: "i know a few people on the DA team, and i want them to have a nice time." [source]

User, on the recent word count news: "Sooooo , when will I (we) get to hear all these words". Michael: "hopefully when the game is out." [source]

User, on the news of no microtransactions: "This is great news that I hope survives past the review period". Michael: "it will" [source]

User: "What class have you been playing as in DAV mostly?" Michael: "mage. i light everything up. everything." [source]

DAMP / multiplayer mode is not returning [source]

Ghil: "Im very sorry for the teasing tweet but to be very real, i really miss playing veilguard and to stop THERE and have to wait over a year is killing me tbh. Im bothered. My crops are dying. I am withering. I want to know what happens" [source]

A user asked a question around if there are dialogue options and choices available in the game that indicate a mixed or less favorable positive perspective on Solas. Bria, a Councilmember, shared: "As an Egg Cracker, I was pretty satisfied with what we saw. I don’t want to go into spoilers but I was able to play my Rook the way I wanted when it came to the Sad Egg Man." [source]

User: "would you be able to tell us if you can change your perspective while in a fight? Those circles we saw on the video were kind of hard to see from that angle". Ghil: "Like a bit- no promises but they told us a lot of stuff like that would be in an accessibility feature. I get pretty motion sick so I remember talking about backing it up a bit." [source]

Kala: "The amount of gasping, screaming, @/ElbenherzArt having to lay on the floor, @/hattedhedgehog and @/chaosbria having to stand up from excitement and us just being in shock the whole time. Yeah 🔟 😎" [source]

Kala shared that there are moments in the game that she knows people will freak out about [source], that in terms of marketing, she knows that the devs have more things planned [source], and that she found Bellara endearing, despite not usually vibing with optimistic and energetic characters [source]

Kala shared that she feels that the Lighthouse is way cooler than Skyhold [source]

Also, in early May 2024 Zach appeared on a podcast:

Zach: "I'm very excited because it looks like at the end of this year, the video game that I've been working on for about three or so years is gonna come out, and I'm really excited for that. I'm gonna come back on and I'm gonna promote that, you guys, you will have no choice, I'm coming back on." Host: "Does the video game feature dicks?" Zach: "I can't say too much about it, but it, it doesn't ignore dicks, you know what I mean? It doesn't, you know what, there might be, yeah, there's, it's a sexy video game, it's a hot video game." Host: "So are you a character?" Zach: "I'm a character in the video game." --- Zach: "I'm gonna come back on to promote the hell out of that, because I'm really excited about that. I'm still working on that, and that's been, like, I'm super grateful for that, because that's been going on for like three years and it's been consistent work." --- Zach: "I'm super excited about it [...]" "Other people help you make really amazing things, when humans get together they make pretty stuff, and this game looks amazing"

[source (acting career segment. source link isn't work-appropriate. I don't recommend the podcast)]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #solas #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paaldin

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myysaints · 1 year ago

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Hi there! I have this silly idea where yuki is y/n (established - actress,singer etc) biggest fan and when lando and y/n officially confirmed their relationship, yuki on his quest to make sure that max will treat y/n right. Lando (borderline amused and annoyed) still try to prove himself to yuki bcs y/n is very fond of him (and provide great entertainment for her). I know this quite ridiculous and would understand if you declined it :)

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ TREAT HER RIGHT─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!singer!reader

genre — fluff

notes — thank you so much for the request! it was not at all ridiculous, i absolutely love this dynamic between lando and yuki !!! ik your request mentioned max, not sure if that was a typo? hopefully i got it right by going with lando :> hope u enjoy this one !!! xx (edit: LOL just realised i called u anon when your user is there TT so sorry bout that!!!)

landonorris

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🏷 yourusername

landonorris the sweetest melody i've ever known ❤️

view all 3,741,822 comments

danielricciardo congrats lovebirds 🎉🕊

yourusername miss you already :(

yourusername don't mind me, just appreciating the sweetest boy ever... ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername can't wait to see you soon !!!

yourusername gonna write a whole album about how much i love u

landonorris I'd love that

mclaren Can't wait to see you in the paddock, yourusername ;)

Liked by yourusername, landonorris

If Lando had known this would happen, he’d have never made that Instagram post.

“YOU’RE DATING WHO?!”

The Japanese driver in front of him whirls around in his seat, eyes wide and mouth hung open in askance.

It’s rare that Yuki speaks to Lando; after all, their language and cultural barrier makes conversation difficult. But this is an entirely different situation altogether.

Lando grins sheepishly, casting a look towards Charles, who stands beside him. The Monegasque merely chuckles, leaning forward in his seat to peer at Yuki.

“So, do you know Y/N?” Charles asks with a cheeky smile.

“Do I know Y/N?!” Yuki is practically leaping out of his seat, his excitement causing the other drivers in the area to glance back at the commotion. “Of course I do! She’s the best singer of all time! I always listen to her songs!”

“Oh, are we talking about Y/N L/N?” Pierre, passing by, cuts in, “Yuki loves her. Has a huge crush on her and everything.”

Lando spreads his palms out, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to keep Yuki away from her when she comes to the paddock, hmm?”

The way Yuki’s eyes light up in glee doesn’t go unnoticed, the Alpha Tauri driver’s face breaking out into an uncontrollable grin.

“You’re bringing her! When? Where?!”

“Calm down, mate,” Lando laughs, leaning back in his seat. His heart flutters at the thought of you in McLaren colours, proudly representing him and his team in the paddock, for the world to see. He clears his throat, trying to stop the furious reddening of his cheeks. “You’ll see her at Suzuka. No rush.. I know my girlfriend's quite the catch - but so am I, right?”

At this, Yuki seemingly goes quiet.

Lando raises an eyebrow. “Yuki…? You okay there?”

A moment of silence passes before Yuki gets up, motioning for Lando to follow him. With a wary look towards an equally-confused Charles and Pierre, who both only shrug in response, Lando follows Yuki towards a quieter corner.

Once they reach a secluded spot, Yuki’s eyes darken, his smile dropping instantly. The shift in atmosphere is undeniable. Lando's never seen Yuki this serious, not even after the Spanish Grand Prix. In all honesty: It scares him.

“Lando,” Yuki says, his voice steeled and brows furrowed. “I like you. I think you’re funny, and you’re a good driver-”

“Hey, thanks man,” he jokes. The attempt at keeping the mood light, however, doesn’t work in the slightest.

“-But, look, listen, if you ever think of hurting her-”

“Sorry, are we talking about Y/N?” Lando’s head tilts in confusion.

“Yes, Y/N. If you ever hurt her,” Yuki continues, ignoring the shocked look on Lando’s face. “If you ever try to hurt her, just know that I will never forgive you. Ever. Do you understand?”

“I-” Lando shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. How do you even respond to that? “-Well, yeah, mate, of course. I only want the best for her. Really, I do.”

“Okay, good. 'Cause I’ll be watching you.” Yuki straightens up, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, I’ll see you around, then! I will look forward to Suzuka.”

And, with a playful punch to the arm, Yuki is off, leaving Lando stunned at what just happened.

So, when Suzuka rolls around, true to his word, Lando shows up to the paddock with you on his arm.

The sight has Yuki running over instantly, a large bashful smile on his face as he greets you enthusiastically.

“Hi! You must be Yuki,” you smile softly, quietly amused at his enthusiasm. “Lando’s told me all about you.”

That was true - Immediately after Lando’s little… altercation, as one might call it, with Yuki, he’d texted you in a frantic hurry. It was, in all honesty, endearing, and incredibly funny. You’d teased Lando about it relentlessly in the days after. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t used the Alpha Tauri driver’s words as leverage; referencing Yuki’s threat to get Lando to pick up some cupcakes, to let you pick the movie for date nights, and so on.

Lando hums in response, watching with an amused smile as Yuki almost trips over his feet trying to shake your hand. “Y/N, this is Yuki. And Yuki, this is… Well, you already know who she is.”

Yuki’s eyes are blown wide in amazement as he shakes your hand, his grip firm and his smile bright. “Wow, it’s so cool that you’re here! I love your new song, it’s already one of my favourites!”

You share a smile with Lando, who squeezes your side in a playful ‘I-told-you-so’ motion.

“Thank you so much, Yuki, that’s so sweet of you! Tell you what - If you let Lando past in the race, I’ll send you a signed copy of my new album, free of charge, before it even drops. How 'bout that?”

Yuki lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No way! Maybe if Lando lets me through in quali today."

You exchange a grin with your boyfriend, who shakes his head in amusement.

"Alright, it was great seeing you, Yuki. Good luck out there," Lando fist bumps the smaller driver, who waves at you before departing with a pep in his step.

Lando's hand finds yours as you walk back to the McLaren motorhome.

"So, that was Yuki..."

"Yep," he nods in response, popping the 'p'. "What'd you think of him?"

You smile cheekily. "You sure it was him who threatened you that time? He seems so sweet!"

Lando scoffs, shaking his head despite the amused smirk that sneaks up on his face. "You haven't seen him when he's angry. He's a menace on the track, I'll tell you that."

The bright laugh that leaves your lips makes Lando's heart skip a beat, heat rising to his face at the look of joy you send his way. You never cease to make his heart flutter.

"Well, finish in the points, and maybe I'll put in a good word to Yuki then, hmm?"

"Alright, muppet. You can count on that."

"Well..."

You're lying on the bed in Lando's hotel room, his trophy sitting tall and proud on the dresser in front of you.

It's been a crazy past 24 hours. In just this one day, you've witnessed perhaps one of the greatest drives of Lando's career, and at your first ever race, on top of that.

Lando wraps you in his arms, flipping the both of you around so that you lie atop his chest.

You smile he gazes up at you, his chest rising and falling to the steady beating of his heart. You feel so at home in these moments, the in-between spaces of time where you have him all to yourself; no races to win, no cameras to look out for. Just you and him, and the spaces in between your fingers.

You laugh softly as he nudges his face into your neck. "Well, what?"

"Well, you still gotta thank Yuki," he replies, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "He let me by on the second last lap. Probably would've lost out on P3 if not for that."

You chuckle, instinctively reaching a hand up to play with his curls. Lando hums lowly, leaning into your touch.

"Thought you were scared of him?" you tease, a playful smile toying on your lips.

"Well, yeah," he mutters out, his tone of voice cheeky, a smile pressed against your skin. "Gotta stay on his good side."

That elicits a giggle from you, and he pulls away from your touch to look up at your smiling face. He cups a hand around your face and pulls you down into a kiss, the two of you breathless when you resurface for air.

"I'll send him a signed CD later," you mumble, leaning back down for another searing kiss. "But I don't wanna think 'bout him right now."

An appreciative hum leaves Lando's lips. "Why not?" he teases, pulling away with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Your reply has his breath caught in his throat.

"'Cause all I wanna think about is you."

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daisymbin · 27 days ago

Text

message in a bottle - choi hansol

warnings: none! just tipsy vernon & reader

pairings: choi hansol x reader

genre: somewhat comfort?

wc: 1.3k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

it was one of those rare, quiet, peaceful nights where the noisy buzz of the city seemed to quiet down just for the two of you. you and vernon found yourselves alone on the balcony, sipping countless of bottles of beer. a faint buzz lingered from the drinks you’d both had, giving the moment a comfortable, hazy glow. the alcohol made you all warm and fuzzy but the cool breeze balances it right out.

the balcony stretched before you, dimly lit by the city’s lights below, casting a warm hue over the concrete and railings. it was the kind of scene that felt just right, no obligations, no expectations, just the cool breeze rolling in and the comforting presence of each other. you sank back into one of the chairs and closed your eyes, feeling the wind ruffle your hair. the night air was refreshing against the heat of your flushed skin, a perfect balance to the tipsiness that softened your thoughts.

vernon had settled beside you, legs stretched out on the floor, his arm resting lazily over his thighs. his head rested back on the wall as he looked up at the stars, eyes half-closed but glinting with that thoughtful look you knew well. he had the kind of quiet demeanor that only became softer with a little alcohol, and you could tell he was already in one of his introspective moods.

the two of you sat in companionable silence, letting the gentle hum of the city below fill in the gaps, until you broke it with a slightly slurred laugh. “you know… we could tell each other anything right now, and neither of us would remember it tomorrow.”

he turned his head, looking at you with a curious tilt. “are you suggesting we, like… spill secrets?”

you shrugged, leaning forward with a grin. “yeah! just for fun. it’s like… the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card. say whatever you want and no one remembers a damn in the morning.”

he seemed to consider it, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. “hm, i don’t know if i’ve got any good secrets left,” he muttered, looking away with a teasing smile. “not sure i wanna risk it.” he whispered that last part, hoping you didn't catch it.

“oh, come on,” you nudged him, grinning. “don’t tell me you don’t have any juicy secrets stashed away.”

he laughed, soft and a little shy, before his eyes lit up with an idea. “actually… why don’t we write them down instead? like, in case we really won’t remember tomorrow. that way we can find out if we dared to say anything interesting.” he glanced at the empty beer bottles beside him. “and we could… i don’t know, put them in here. like a little time capsule for tomorrow.”

you laughed at the suggestion, but the idea was endearing, a small spark of excitement bubbling up. “all right, i’m in. but you go first.”

he blinked at you, clearly flustered now that the suggestion was on the table & somehow, accepted by you, but nevertheless, his hand reached into his back pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled receipt. he smoothed it out, leaning forward, eyes on you. “only if you promise you’re gonna write one, too.”

you gave him an exaggerated nod, hand over your heart. “i solemnly swear.”

he chuckled at your reference, glancing down at the paper, and you watched as he leaned closer, pen in hand. his brows furrowed as he thought, his usually easygoing expression giving way to one of hesitation. finally, he started writing, the pen scratching quietly against the paper. when he was done, he folded it with a nervous smile and slipped it into an empty beer bottle, pushing it toward the center of the table.

“okay, your turn,” he said, his voice lower, almost like he was daring you.

you picked up another receipt, grinning as you scribbled something short, folding it up before dropping it into another empty bottle with a dramatic flourish. “there,” you said. “our secrets are officially sealed until tomorrow.”

he laughed softly at your theatrics, but his gaze lingered on the two bottles in the center of the table, thoughtful. “you know,” he said after a moment, “it’s kinda funny. putting something in there that you’re afraid to say out loud.” he looked at you, his eyes softer, like he was letting himself be a little more vulnerable.

you nudged him with your elbow. “hey, that’s the whole point. otherwise, we wouldn’t need a bottle for it.”

his eyes flicked to yours and then your lips, they lingered there for a moment too long, a smile tugging at his lips. “yeah… but it’s still kinda scary, even knowing we won’t remember it tomorrow.” he let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “you ever wish you could just… bottle up certain moments like this? so you can hold onto them without worrying about what’ll happen next?”

you nodded, and his gaze drifted down to you, searching your expression. the intensity of his eyes held you in place, and you could feel a fluttering in your chest, a reminder that, here and now, it was just the two of you. the air between you felt charged, something warm and unspoken hovering just out of reach.

“what would you want to keep?” you asked, voice soft. “if you could bottle this moment?”

he took his time before answering, letting the quiet linger as he collected his thoughts. “this,” he said, gesturing between you both, a hand brushing the space around him. “just… you and me, sitting here. no need to say much. it’s easy, its comfortable…its comforting.”

there was a pause, and you felt the weight of his words settling over you. there was something in his tone, an edge of vulnerability that he rarely let show. you could see it in the way his gaze lingered, in the slight hesitance before he continued speaking.

“sometimes, i feel like i’m always trying to be someone else. like, the person everyone expects me to be. but with you, i don’t have to pretend.”

he looked down, fingers absently tracing patterns on his thigh. “i guess… i guess that’s why i always feel like i want to be around you.” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it resonated, echoing in the quiet of the night. “you make everything feel… simpler. real.”

your heart pounded as he spoke, his words hitting something deep within you. he was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath catch, the quiet confession settling over you like a weight. it was the kind of raw honesty that left no room for pretense, no room for denial.

vernon swallowed, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. “i keep telling myself it’s just… that it’s just because we’re good friends, you know? but that’s not… it’s not true.”

he paused as he took in a deep breath and the vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “the truth is, i can’t stop thinking about you. not just as a friend…if that makes sense.”

the confession spilled out in a gentle rush, each word weighed down by the depth of his feelings. he was looking at you, searching for a reaction, his gaze raw and unfiltered. and in that moment, you realized he wasn’t hiding anymore. he’d bared his heart to you, laid it all out in the open, and all you could do was let the words sink in, let them wrap around you like the soft warmth of the night air.

you took a shaky breath, resting a hand over his. he looked down, startled by the gesture, but his fingers laced with yours instinctively, grounding you both. for a while, you both sat in silence, content just being close.

and then, glancing at the two bottles in the center of the table, you couldn’t help but smile. tomorrow, you’d break them open and read the notes, but somehow, you already knew that nothing would be the same once you did.

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sukirichi · 3 months ago

Text

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 018 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. angst, infidelity, defamation, forced incest (please read the chapter first before you come at me 😭), reader uses a gun, alcohol consumption, emotional manipulation, toxic characters and toxic relationships, iris pov (just for a short part), mentions of murder, car accidents

notes. YOOO can you guys believe we are so close to the ending!! thank you guys so much for being so sweet and supportive to dtd! even though ik most of the readers are away and busy with school now (as am i) i still hope you guys enjoy this update hehe. the next chapter drop should be around the regular dtd tuesdays <3

wc. 13k

series masterlist

[ EIGHTEEN ] no matter how easy things could be if I did, and no matter how guilty I still feel saying it. I wish I hated you.

In hindsight, the day began like any other day in the glorious kingdom of Inarizaki.

The early morning sun cast its golden glow over the streets that bustled with people, the shops opening with smiles and greetings to the familiar faces of loyal customers. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed tea, the distant chime of church bells signalling the start of a new day.

But beneath this serene facade, a storm was threatening to blow – one that would shake the very foundations of the already fragile throne. Iris knew this, too – she could feel it, could extend her hand and have her fingertips brush against her inevitable end.

As the first rays of light filtered through the windows of homes and cafes, Iris watched as the kingdom’s most widely read newspapers hit the stands. The headline had been bold and dramatic, splashed across the front page in large, black letters enough to garner heads turning its way. Who Is The Real Iris Amari? it read, accompanied by a series of photographs that left little to the imagination.

The citizens of Inarizaki began their mind-numbing routine, unaware of the bombshell waiting for them in the morning news. It started slowly, with a few early risers picking up the newspaper and gasping in shock. Unsurprisingly, the scandal spread like wildfire.

The younger ones scrolled through their phones, stopping in their tracks as the news popped up on their screens. The article quickly went viral, shared across social media platforms in the speed of light. It seemed that everyone had something to say about the explosive revelation – Iris’ official portrait decorated on it all.

In a cafe Iris had once loved visiting when she was still a teenager, where morning coffee was usually a time spent with light-hearted chatter and gossip during a faraway era when she still had friends, the atmosphere grew tense and charged. She could’ve been one of them, she thinks, a group of young people huddled together, their voices hushed but urgent. “Did you see the news about Princess Iris?” a woman whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Her mother involved in a murder? I can’t believe it?”

“Now that they mention it,” mumbled the man next to her, stroking his chin in thought. “It was rather odd that she got married to the Second Prince out of nowhere.”

All across the Kingdom, people gathered in small clusters – their faces a mix of shock, outrage, and disbelief. The photographs shown in the article were damning, capturing moments that painted a grim picture of Princess Iris’ past. One image showed her mother, Kate Amari, in a heated argument with the Late King. Another depicted Iris herself at a lavish party, her expression one of defiance and rebellion.

She’d remembered that party, could recall how the events went crystal clear. She’d been so young, barely nineteen and out of high school, when the impending doom of her fate grew ever near. A few years from now, she would’ve been forced into a marriage with a Prince whose affections she could never win. And what better way to accept her fate than make her mother outraged? So she’d partied, drunk herself to nearly the point of no return, and stumbled back home crying because she’d known. Her fate had been decided from her the moment the Late King slipped from her mother’s grasp, and into the arms of another woman.

She could have never escaped it.

She was nothing but a painful reminder of what her mother could’ve had. I could’ve been his concubine, her mother would cry herself to sleep, screaming those words over and over. Glass would shatter on the walls as she threw another empty bottle of wine over Iris’ head. He said he loved me! He said he would take us home and we would be together as a family!

Such dreams were shattered in the blink of an eye. No matter how much she wailed, and ran after the Late King, it never changed the fact that her mother was the daughter of a lowborn servant, and the Late King had always been majestic from the day he was born.

We were in love, she would tell Iris, brushing her hands through her dark locks – the same shade as the King’s. He’d always loved me, you see. Before the Crown forced him to marry her, you know? The Queen? The one who never smiles? He doesn’t love her, my dear, but he has us. You and me, his precious girls.

Iris thought his mother was delusional. She knew all about it, of course. She’d read her mother’s journals, the love letters the King had penned. She hadn’t been lying that he loved her, once.

The King, merely a Crown Prince at the time, aged sixteen when he first crossed the borders and paid an official visit to the humbler towns of Itachiyama where he met her mother. They’d been young, and foolishly in love. And her mother, illiterate and innocent, had captured the Prince’s heart. He thought her an ideal woman; unstained by ideals, untainted by the law. She knew only how to love him, and for once in his life, he’d felt more of a boy than he was a Prince. He’d made promises he couldn’t keep, promises of running away to the ends of the earth where they could be together.

Like a fool, Iris’ mother held onto his promise. She kept her loyalty even after he’d married the current Queen. She kept chasing after him even after the First Prince – a bastard child – was born. She’d loved him, through and through, until he returned to Itachiyama and made her believe he’d returned for her, only to stumble in the same sheets as Kiyoomi’s mother.

Her mother hadn’t been the same ever since.

She grew obsessed with revenge, throwing herself into a path where redemption couldn’t exist. She’d studied, made a name of herself, and flew to Inarizaki the moment the King had drunkenly put a child into her belly. Not that the King could remember – hence why he never accepted Iris as his own.

But she’d find herself amongst her true family. That was Kate Amari’s promise before the Queen betrayed her, and put her behind bars.

On the busy streets of the capital, pedestrians paused to check their phones, their reactions intense. Some stared in disbelief, while others shook their heads in disgust. A few young people, who had grown up admiring Princess Iris, felt a deep sense of betrayal. “I always thought she was different,” a teenager muttered to his friend. “But this... this is something else.”

The Palace was thrown into chaos as the news spread.

Inside the grand halls, staff members whispered amongst themselves, casting anxious glances towards the royal chambers. Courtiers and advisors rushed to convene emergency meetings, their faces pale and drawn. The Queen, upon hearing the news, simply sat down and pressed her lips into a thin line.

In the markets and town squares, debates broke out as people tried to make sense of the allegations. Some defended Princess Iris, arguing that the writer was anonymous, and the photographs could be doctored. “You can’t believe everything you read,” a shopkeeper insisted, waving his hand dismissively. “This could be a plot to discredit the royal family.”

The others were not so easily convinced. “Look at the evidence,” a customer countered, pointing to the newspaper. “The photographs, the timeline – it all fits. How can you ignore that?”

The debate raged on, with emotions running high on both sides. Some citizens called for Princess Iris to be stripped of her title and brought to justice, while others urged caution and a thorough investigation before jumping to conclusions. It was evident that the Kingdom stood on the brink of a social and political upheaval.

Even as the palace attempted to manage the fallout, the scandal showed no signs of abating.

News channels broadcasted special reports, experts weight in with their opinions, and social media buzzed with speculation and outrage. The Kingdom of Inarizaki had never seen such a scandal, and it seemed that everyone had been swept up in the maelstrom.

In the midst of the chaos, Princess Iris remained secluded within the palace walls, shielded from the public eye as she held a hand to her belly. But the damage was done. The question on everyone’s mind was how the royal family would recover from such a devastating blow – a question not even Iris had the answer to.

She knew one thing, and one thing, only.

She was a Princess, and she’d do anything to keep her place within the Palace walls.

Iris stood by the window of her – your – lavishly decorated room, staring out at the gardens she had once found solace in. The vibrant flowers, the meticulously trimmed hedges, the majestic fountains – all of it seemed like a distant memory now, a world that no longer belonged to her. Instead, a hollow numbness settled deep within her chest, a void where her hopes and dreams once resided.

When Iris first laid eyes on you on the day Rintaro picked you out in a crowded room, she’d thought you were harmless. Dull. Plain. You spoke only what needed to be said, and made no unnecessary movements. Stiff, and boring. She would’ve never thought, or seen it coming, that her damnation would come from the hands of a poor, lovesick girl who’d been lied to.

The heavy footsteps of the guards echoed in the corridor outside, growing louder with each passing second. She knew they were coming for her, to escort her out of the Palace for the last time.

The ornate mirror on the wall showed a reflection Iris could barely recognized – the same as her mother’s eyes had now lost their spark, a face that aged overnight from the weight of the scandal.

The door opened with a creak, and the guards stepped in. She felt their presence more than she saw it, their stern faces and impassive conveying the gravity of her situation. They waited silently, giving her a moment to gather herself, but there was nothing left to gather. Her spirit felt fragmented, her resolve shattered. Now, all she felt was anger hidden underneath a layer of numbness. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to sneer, I am your Princess. I am the King’s only daughter!

She turned from the window, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were in a dream. Her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each beat a reminder of the life she was leaving behind.

The corridor stretched out before her, each step echoing with a finality that was almost suffocating. The opulence of the palace, the tapestries, and gilded frames, all seemed to mock her now. She had once walked these halls with confidence and grace, but now, every step felt like a march towards her end. It was all hers – all could’ve been hers – if you never stepped in and took it all away from her.

As she descended the staircase, the memories of simpler times haunted her. The laughter, the never-ending banquets and stock of wine, the promises of a future that had been her birthright – they all seemed like a cruel illusion now. She could feel the eyes of the palace staff on her, their pity and curiosity cutting through the numbness like a knife. Still, she kept her head high, determined to maintain her dignity in these final moments.

The guards flanked her as she reached the main entrance. The heavy doors were already open, revealing the world beyond the palace walls. The bright sunlight was almost blinding. She paused at the threshold, taking one last look at the place that had been her home, her prison, and her battleground.

With a deep breath, she stepped out into the light. The doors closed behind her with a final, echoing thud, sealing her fate. The guards guided her towards the waiting vehicle, their hands gentle yet firm on her arms. She climbed inside, her movements robotic, her mind still struggling to process the enormity of what was happening.

As the carriage began to move, the palace slowly disappeared from view, replaced by the bustling streets of the city. She saw the faces of the citizens, some curious, some indifferent, and a few sympathetic. But none of it mattered anymore. Her life as Princess Iris was over, and what lay ahead was a life she never deserved.

The numbness returned, a merciful shield against the overwhelming reality. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, letting the gentle sway of the carriage lull her into a state of detached calm. The future was uncertain, but for now, all she could do was endure.

Summoned by the royal advisors and members of the council, Iris made her way to the council chamber. As she approached the large, intricately carved doors, two guards pushed them open, revealing a room filled with stern faces and accusatory eyes.

The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the palace. It was dimly lit, with long shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. The heavy wooden table at the center was surrounded by the kingdom’s most powerful and influential figures, all of whom had been convened to address the scandal that had erupted overnight.

“Princess Iris,” one of the senior advisors began, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. "Do you understand the gravity of the situation? The article has not only tarnished your reputation but has also brought disgrace upon the entire royal family."

Iris stood before them, trying to maintain her composure. Her eyes met those of the advisors, seeking any hint of understanding or compassion, but finding none. She nodded, unable to trust her voice to remain steady. She’d already figured this would happen.

“We have no choice,” another advisor interjected. “The people demand accountability, and the council has decided that you must be stripped of your title. This is a necessary step to restore faith in the monarchy.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Stripped of her title. The enormity of the situation began to sink in, and she felt a wave of humiliation wash over her.

“You can’t,” she croaked out, her throat growing dry. “I-I am married to the Second Prince, and my title is secured. You cannot separate us as divorce is illegal, and if you do so... that would be saying the Prince loses his title, too.”

The advisors shared a look with one another, processing the gravity of her words. “While what you say is indeed true, this is one of those occasions where we must make... necessary adjustments,” the senior advisor said, his glasses pushed up to his nose. “We have already taken measures to fact-check the article and–”

“And?”

The senior advisor glares at her for interrupting. The entire change in attitude was impalpable; now that she’d been scandalized, everyone suddenly lost respect for her. “–And we found that everything written in it was true, just as the photographs are real. We also found records confirming that your mother, Kate Amari, was imprisoned years ago for murder. The King’s murder.”

A bitter, sardonic laugh bubbled from her throat. “I do not deny that, but did anyone ever investigate why she killed him?” A round of gasps echoed through the room at the revelation. “I am willing to bet on my whole life that none of you know how important I am in the royal family, that if it weren’t for me, all of you would be losing your positions and jobs as we speak! It was I who kept all the secrets, the one and only reason you are all able to live your pathetic, worthless lives because none of you know anything! You don’t even know that the Queen you worship reverently is–”

The grand doors of the courtroom creaked open, and the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. All eyes turned towards the entrance as the Queen, clad in a dark, regal gown that seemed to absorb the light, stepped into the room. Her presence commanded an immediate, oppressive silence, freezing everyone in their places.

Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept across the assembly, landing on each individual with the weight of her authority. The air was thick with tension as courtiers and officials alike dared not to breathe too loudly, lest they draw her scrutiny. Iris felt her heart seize in her chest, her earlier numbness replaced by a paralyzing fear. The Queen’s entrance had turned the room into a tableau of silent dread, each person awaiting the inevitable judgment that her arrival heralded.

“That is enough,” her cold, heartless voice sweeps across the room. “The final decision has been made. You are no longer allowed to speak another word unless I, the Queen, permits it.”

“Traitor,” Iris sneered, baring her teeth and lunging at the Queen when the guards held her back. “You’re a traitor! This isn’t what we agreed upon!”

The Queen, unfazed, sighs. “Take her away from here.”

Before Iris could protest further, a pair of strong arms escorted her to the grand hall for the public ceremony. The grand hall, usually a place of celebration and state affairs, was now filled with a somber and judgmental crowd. Nobles, courtiers, and even some members of the public had gathered to witness the spectacle. The air was thick with anticipation and whispers.

The whispers grew louder with each step she took. She walked with her head held high, determined not to let them see her crumble.

The queen, stood at the front of the room. She held a scepter in her hand, a symbol of the authority that was about to be wielded against Iris. The ceremony was swift, almost mechanical in its execution.

“Princess Iris,” the queen began, her voice echoing through the hall. “You have brought dishonor to this family and to this kingdom. By the power vested in me, I hereby strip you of your title and all the privileges that come with it.”

With those words, the queen raised the scepter and tapped it on Iris’s shoulder. The symbolic gesture felt like a final, crushing blow. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, a mix of shock, satisfaction, and pity. Meanwhile, Iris stood, her eyes drawn to the ground as she fought back against the tears that threatened to fall.

She couldn’t believe it. The Queen had broken their agreement, turned back on her word like she did with her Mother. She’d promised her mother to place her within the royal family, then banished her overseas without another word. Now, she betrayed Iris too – arranging her marriage with Kiyoomi, her brother, and took it away from her.

The queen continued, her voice unwavering. “You are no longer Princess Iris of Inarizaki. You are hereby banished from the royal palace, and your marriage to Prince Kiyoomi is annulled.”

The crowd gasped, the severity of the punishment sinking in. Iris raised her head, unable to stop the tear slipping down her cheek. Quickly, she wiped it away. She had to remain strong, if only for the sake of her dignity, because what could she say now? That she was pregnant, and Kiyoomi had to continue with the announcement of ‘the happy news’? She couldn’t – she was stuck in a dead-end corner, and judging by the slight smile playing on the Queen’s lips, she’d already calculated this potential move.

She’d known Iris would never bring up the baby to save herself. Iris would never subject herself to an unwanted pregnancy, keeping up this pretend of sickening act of husband and wife with her brother any longer. If she did, the Crown would pressure her to have another child – one with Kiyoomi this time around, assuming that Rintaro would be disposed of soon enough.

Iris couldn’t go that far.

The Queen, as always, got what she wanted and won.

As the ceremony concluded, Iris turned and walked out of the grand hall. The heavy doors closed behind her with a resounding thud.

Her mind raced with thoughts of what to do next. Where would she go now? Her mother was gone, and she had no allies, made no friends. Maiko could’ve been someone to run to, but even the foolish kid had been too enamoured with you to ever have any loyalty for her. But she refused to let it end like this. She had to clear her mother’s name, to reveal the truth about the queen’s crimes.

She wasn’t going to let it end like this.

With her title stripped and her future uncertain, Iris vowed to fight back. She would uncover the secrets buried deep within the palace walls, expose the queen’s treachery, and reclaim her honor. As she walked away from the palace, the whispers of the crowd still echoing in her ears, Iris walked onwards with newfound resolve. She might have lost her title, but she had not lost her spirit. The battle for her mother’s honor and her own redemption had only just begun.

She would take back what was hers.

The palace was sent into a whirlwind of chaos after Iris’ deposition.

You and Kiyoomi stood in the hallway of Belleview Manor, observing the frenzy. Servants moved like automatons, their faces set in grim determination as they hauled the remnants of Iris’ belongings out of her quarters, tossing her clothes and personal items into hastily arranged piles.

You watched as delicate dresses were carelessly bundled, precious trinkets thrown aside, and keepsakes unceremoniously discarded. Your eyes fell upon a particularly cherished item – a framed photo of a younger Iris and what appeared to be her mother. Their faces were lit into smiles, Iris’ smaller hands held tightly within her mother’s. It struck a chord of guilt within you, and you stepped forward, halting a servant who was about to toss it aside.

“Leave it,” you mouth silently, taking the photograph from the bewildered servant’s hands. Clutching the frame, you held it tightly to your chest, looking up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes.

It’d been less than a week since the news spread of Iris’ abrupt leave. The Queen had stripped her off her title, and the entire Kingdom had been harsh in their glee over it. It was ruthless, needless to say, how easily they turned on Iris – who was once their Princess – the moment the article had been released. She went from being adored to being shunned to the point that even Itachiyama had closed its doors on her.

But wasn’t that what you wanted?

You’d been so desperate to keep Kiyoomi away from her grasp. Now, you’d succeeded. Iris had left, your room was now yours again, and any traces of the brunette finally disappeared.

And yet... why did none of it feel good? You weren’t proud, weren’t happy.

Outside, the commotion was no less intense. The air was thick with whispers and hurried conversations, the scent of scandal permeating every corner of the palace grounds. Meanwhile, Kiyoomi watched it all unfurl with a cold dispassion, as if he was merely an observer.

Your heart ached with a pang of pity as you glanced at him, but there was no time to dwell on it. In the span of forty eight hours, he’d lost his wife, and was pushed to being another pawn again. That part you hadn’t thought through – Kiyoomi may have been freed from Iris, but who was to stop the Queen from marrying him off to another woman? The political crisis between Itachiyama and Inarizaki was temporarily resolved the last time he’d went there, when you went there, but that had been months. And now, with the recent issue of Itachiyama being shamed for having such ‘lowborn people’ like Iris, none of it was getting better.

A small voice in your head urged you to find Iris, to offer some semblance of comfort or understanding. Gripping the photograph tighter, you make your way to your car, wondering where Iris might have gone after experiencing such a public humiliation.

Just as you were about to open the car door, a firm hand grabbed your arm. You turned to see Kiyoomi right behind you, his face etched with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to find Iris.”

“No,” his grip tightens with urgency, already slamming the car door shut behind you. “You shouldn’t go anywhere. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What’s going on?”

“She’s not going to let this end,” he murmurs silently, pulling you into his chest as he looks around warily. He didn’t need to elaborate; the gravity of the moment was clear. The scandal, the disgrace, it was spreading like wildfire. There was no telling where it would end or what further damage might be done.

“Kiyoomi... Did I do the right thing?” you ask him, brow furrowing as your palms grew sweaty. “I-I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I know it would’ve gotten your marriage annulled with her, but... I don’t know what they’re going to do her, Omi. Will she be alright out there?”

Kiyoomi’s lips press into a thin line. “She will be, but I can’t guarantee things will stay the same,” he pauses, as if hesitating, then reaches to comb his hair back. “Listen. Iris is not going to take any of this lightly. There’s no telling what she will do next, but I can guarantee that none of us are safe here.”

You bite your lip, pondering it before you decided, “I still need to go.”

“Where will you go?” Kiyoomi lets go of your hand, not wanting to stop you, but not entirely willing to let you leave either. Instead, his shoulders sagged, his eyes pleading. “Just... Stay here with me. Or at least let me accompany you.”

You shook your head. You’d just freed Kiyoomi from the ties that bound him; if you dragged him with you again, then this would never end. This was something you had to solve for yourself, but if Iris couldn’t be found , then you had to start with him. “I need to find Rintaro. He still has a child with her, Omi. We don’t know how he’s handling the situation right now.”

Kiyoomi’s lips pressed into a thin line. Sighing through his nose, he seemed to have an internal debate before he closes his eyes. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s...” you insisted, “I think you should stay behind.”

Silence stretches between you both. For a moment, it looks like Kiyoomi wanted to say more, but chose not to. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you – the way he closed off on himself, his walls put up so high you could barely look past it. But what could you do? And Kiyoomi, too, must’ve known this was a losing game. Forcing a smile on his face, he nods.

“Call me if you need anything.”

You smile at him gratefully, photograph still clutched to your chest before opening the car door. Then, you sped out of the driveway and called Rintaro, unsurprised that it went straight to voicemail. You tried asking the twins, even Kita, anyone who might’ve known where your husband was. But alas, none of them had the slightest clue. The last they saw of him was just before Iris was taken away by the guards, hovering behind her with an impassive look on his face.

He’d shortly disappeared after that. None of your texts and calls came through.

Jaw clenched, you turned on the location tracker you’d placed on his phone that time before you left for Itachiyama, mindlessly turning on the radio in case there’d been any reported sightings. You tuned in, letting the music fill the space in the air.

You gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles stiff with tension. You’d been driving for what seemed like hours now, eyes scanning the roads and alleys, searching for any sign of Rintaro. Fatigue weighed heavily on you now that the sun had long set, your eyelids drooping and your body aching from being sat for so long. Still, the tracker on your phone remained stubbornly blank, offering no direction to head in.

Just as you decided to turn back, the car radio crackled to life. The unmistakable voice of Iris filled the vehicle. You immediately went still, your heart pounding in your chest. You quickly pulled over to the side of the road, your breath catching as you listened intently.

Greetings, citizens of Inarizaki. It is I, Iris Amari, your former Princess and representative of Itachiyama. As you all know, I have recently been stripped of my titles now that the history behind my mother’s sudden disappearance has been uncovered.

A short pause.

I confess that I am guilty of manipulating the Crown Prince out of my boredom. The truth is, I was in a loveless marriage with the Second Prince, and I was lonely in the Palace when my husband would leave me to entertain myself for weeks, sometimes months on end. A lonely woman could only endure so much, and the Crown Prince was always there – warm, welcoming, and as lovely as he’d been when we met during our school years. I couldn’t help but seek out his company, even when he’d already married the Yuzuru heiress. After all, I knew my marriage with the Second Prince was hopeless. He would never speak to me, much less look my way – an arrangement I was satisfied with as long as it meant I could remain being a Princess.

You leant back in your seat, gnawing at your lip as you hung on to every word she said.

Now, to answer the question everyone has been dying to know: how did a no-name foreigner like me marry into the Royal Family? The truth is simple. I am the King’s only daughter, and Her Majesty the Queen manipulated my desperate, lovesick, and heartbroken mother to do her bidding. They’d both been victims of the King, their hearts toyed with until they were fueled with anger.

Your grip on the steering wheel loosened. Glancing at Iris’ photograph on the passenger seat, you stared hard at her features – green eyes, loose and dark wavy hair, almost with the same pattern of Kiyoomi’s curls. Looking at her now, Iris had always looked so... familiar. And that thought – or realization – alone, had your mouth drying.

But if they were both the King’s children, and they were married... A gasp fell from your lips.

Was that why Kiyoomi refused to touch her? Why he’d looked at her, repulsed and paling like she was vermin? It hadn’t been because she was, but rather because she was his sister.

The Queen, having had enough of her husband’s affairs and mistreatments, ordered my mother to murder him under the promise she would welcome me into the Palace. My mother did as she was told, concerned only with securing her daughter’s future, but the Queen betrayed us. Shortly after the King died, the Queen banished my mother from Inarizaki and put her behind bars to ensure her silence.

As a last resort to somewhat keep her end of the deal, she then enrolled me in Inarizaki Private Royal Academy to learn about how to run the country as a future Princess. Years later, after I graduated, she arranged my marriage with Prince Kiyoomi, my half-brother.

Now this all begs the question regarding the recent cheating scandal of the Crown Prince: if I’d known all this time that I was the King’s daughter, did I not seduce my own blood and flesh?

You may think so, but the Queen keeps a plethora of lies to keep this Kingdom running – one of her secrets being that she never had a child with the Late King, and Crown Prince Rintaro is nothing but a fraud. He is not of royal flesh and blood. He is nothing but a boy picked up on the streets to become the Queen’s puppet.

When the announcement ended, the music previously playing stuttered before continuing to where it left off. You sat there, stunned in silence with your mind reacing.

The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears, loud enough that it pulsed with the vehicle’s hum. Suddenly, your phone flashed with a notification – the tracker had located Rintaro. Adrenaline surged through you, and you slammed your foot on the gas, the car lurching forward as you sped off.

Now that Rintaro’s secret was out, you needed to find him first before the police did.

You drove through the dimly lit streets, your surroundings growing increasingly desolate. The familiar cityscape gave way to the outskirts, a labyrinth of abandoned warehouses and crumbling buildings. Shadows loomed large, casting eerie shapes that seemed to dance in the periphery of your vision. Your anxiety grew with each passing mile, the unease settling like a heavy weight in your chest.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The once smooth road turned rough and pitted, each bump jarring your already frazzled nerves. The neon glow of the city was long behind you, now replaced by the flickering, sporadic streetlights that only deepened the shadows.

After what felt like forever, you’d finally reached your destination – a decrepit building that looked to have been abandoned for years. The windows were boarded up, and graffiti marred its exterior. Despite its appearance, the low thump of music resonated through the walls, a steady, booming pulse that hinted at life within. You parked your car and stepped out, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

The building loomed over you, dark and foreboding. You balled your fists at your sides, trying to steady your frantically racing heart.

As you approached the entrance, you were greeted by a hulking figure. “You got a pass?”

You blinked your eyes up at the bouncer, standing guard. He was imposing, his large, hulking arms crossed over his chest. “Uh,” you licked your dry lips, vaguely realizing a little too late that you’re inappropriately dressed for this event – pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and a silk below-the-knee champagne coloured dress. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Then I’m sorry, Miss, you can’t enter. This is an invite-only party.”

You’re already fiddling with your purse. “How much?” you raised your brows, daring the bouncer to continue smirking when he noticed the seriousness on your face. “Name me your price.” He was quick to mention the numbers, and without sparing him another glance, you shoved a wad of cash – with extra – to his tattooed hands.

The bouncer’s smirk grew wider, satisfied as he pockets the bills. “Welcome to Ecstasy. Enjoy your stay. If you don’t have a mask yet, someone at the counter will give you one. At the right price.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him and through the doors. The music grew louder as you neared, its relentless beat matching the pounding of your heart. You squared your shoulders, prepared to face whatever lay behind the doors of this unsettling, hidden nightclub. What the hell was Rintaro doing here?

The deeper you entered the club, the louder the music got. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something else you couldn’t quite place. The interior was a chaotic blend of darkness and vibrant neon lights, flashing in sync with the pounding bass of the music – loud enough to give you a headache. The colors danced erratically, casting shifting shadows across the grinding bodies across the room.

Everywhere you looked, people were hidden behind masks, their identities obscured in a surreal modern-era masquerade.

The masks ranged from simple to elaborate, animal-themed, Venetian, some grotesque. Yours was a simple bunny-mask, its ears protruding at the sides and the nose wide enough to cover a fraction of your eyes. You understood now why Rintaro chose to be here – the anonymity gave the revelers a sense of freedom, their movements uninhibited and wild. Everyone danced with abandon, bodies pressed close together as they moved as one with the beat. In the corners, couples were locked in passionate embraces, their hands trailing in places it shouldn’t be – completely oblivious to the world around them.

Discomfort washed over you as you navigated through the crowd.

The noise was overwhelming, a constant assault on your senses. Your formal attire, elegant and out of place, drew curious and sometimes hungry stares from the masked partygoers. Your feeble attempt in donning the bunny mask did little to hide your unease.

You pushed through the crowd, determined to find Rintaro.

Men in masks turned to watch you, their gazes lingering too long for comfort. You quickened your pace, ignoring the murmurs and the eyes that followed your every move. The flashing lights made it hard to see clearly, but you couldn’t back out now. You’d already reached this far. There was no way you were going to leave this hellish place without your husband in tow.

Finally, you spotted a tuft of dark, unruly hair.

Rintaro sat slumped at the bar, nursing a drink as his head bobbed in time to the rhythm of the music. He looked weary and lost, a stark contrast to the frenzy around him. Relief washed over you as you made your way beside him, the chaotic energy of the club seemingly fading in the background. You reached out to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes to draw him out of his stupor and back to you.

When he finally turned to you, you were met with his familiar hazel eyes – ones that bordered more on green than brown. He looked exhausted; dark circles visible even behind his wolf-shaped mask, the whiskers nearly comical as it draped on the sides. You grinned at him, relieved to have found him safe and sound. Throwing your arms around him – or more like attempted to – you found yourself gently shoved back, your lower back connecting with the stool behind you.

“Don’t touch me,” he sneers, his words slurred. “My wife won’t like it if she sees you.”

You frowned at him, rubbing at the sore spot at your back. “Don’t be stupid. We need to go home. Now.”

Rintaro throws his head back in laughter, gesturing to the bartender for another refill. Once his glass was full again, he took slow, deliberate sips – his face impassive and his eyes cold. “The night is too young. Why would I want to leave?” he murmurs more to himself than you, his gaze narrowing at your hunched figure beside him. He stares, hard, making you squirm beneath the mask. But Rintaro simply sniffs, pointing his drink in your direction. “You look awfully familiar.”

“That’s because I’m your wife. Now let’s go.”

“My wife, huh? Now I know you’re lying,” he shakes his head to himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downs his drink in one go. “My wife would never look for me, and she’d never come to a place like this. She’s a little too good for everybody. A little too great for the likes of us. Even for someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I recently just found out that I’m–” he closes the distance between you, close enough that his cologne and the stench of alcohol overwhelms you. Then, he cups his palm around his mouth as if to say a secret, his mouth dangerously close to your ear as his voice drops. “–Adopted. Or kidnapped, if we’re going to be precise. Fucked up, right? But you want to know what’s even more fucked up? It’s that I genuinely thought I was this great, praise-worthy Prince who deserved no one better but my wife. And I–” his chuckles grew louder, the humour in them absent, “–I ruined it. Ruined her life. Because she doesn’t even know that she married some stupid, lowborn gardener’s son.”

You frowned at his words. Crossing your arms against your chest, you spun on your stool and faced him directly, snatching the glass from his hand before he could ask for another refill. This time around, Rintaro doesn’t protest. Just slumps further against the bar’s counter.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m sure she doesn’t think of you any differently.”

“She already does. She can barely stand to be in the same room as me,” he sighs, his head buried in his arms before him. Sleepily, and drunk out of his mind, he gazes up at you under his lashes – the sadness deep and prominent within his eyes. “She could’ve married someone else if I never came into her world, you know? She could’ve married a Lord, or-or a Duke. Hell, she could have been a Princess from another Kingdom. She deserved all that and more. Instead she’s stuck with me and I–” his breaths stuttered, “–I’m no one.”

That was it. You’d had enough of his pity party. Did he really come all the way here just to feel bad about himself? Sliding the glass towards the bartender’s way, you grabbed Rintaro by the arm, heaving at his nearly dead weight. “Rin. Please. Let’s go home.”

“I have no home,” he whines, and it’s only now you notice the tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t have a wife, I lost my girlfriend who’s pregnant with my child, and I – where would I go? There’s no place for me here.”

“You could go with me.”

“You’re not my wife. I don’t want to go anywhere without her.”

“Rintaro, I am your wife,” you repeat, shoving your left hand right in front of his face. He’s immediately entranced by the sight, and leans into the curve of your palm. “We wear the same rings, see? It’s me.”

The sigh he lets out is dreamy. “Yeah, I’m not sober enough for this. Now I’m seeing her too.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you lead him back to the bar, and help him sit down without falling on his bottom. “Okay, how about this? I get you a few more drinks, and then I’ll take you back to your wife, alright? I heard the Princess was looking for you.”

Rintaro’s sniffles grow louder as he avoids your gaze. “Why would she? She’s happier now that she’s with Kiyoomi. He’s the better man, anyway, better than me in all aspects.”

The memory of Kiyoomi’s lips flashed through your mind. Faintly, you wondered if this was considered hurting Kiyoomi’s feelings – running after your husband, and tending to him when he was not in his right mind. Just the thought of Kiyoomi patiently waiting for you back at Belleview Manor broke your heart. Or maybe he paced back and forth, anxiously opening his phone every minute to check if you’d updated again – you hadn’t.

But you would return, that you knew. The past few days with him – no, everything had made your decision clear. Regardless of whatever happened next… if Rintaro would be taken away by the police, or if the Queen disposed of him first, you’d already made your mind.

You were going to choose Kiyoomi.

But tonight… tonight, Rintaro needed you. Cupping his face in your hands, you levelled his gaze with yours, putting on your warmest smile – just like how you always did whenever Rintaro ran to you, worried and burdened with his day’s work. Even if he couldn’t truly recognize you, at least your touch would – hopefully – be familiar enough. “She’s worried for you, and she sent me here to take you home. She said she wants to talk.”

“She still wants to talk to me?”

Your heart ached. You’d never heard Rintaro sound this… helpless before, and at the same time hopeful. “Of course, Rin. Always.”

“Fine,” he relents, “but you’re paying for my drinks.”

You discreetly signal to the bartender, sliding over a generous amount of cash to cover all the drinks he’d ‘ordered.’ Thankfully, he understands your silent plea, nodding and begins to serve him water instead. Rintaro, too lost in his own world, didn’t seem to notice the change as he continued to down glass after glass.

Once he had reached his limit, you gently took his arm, guiding him away from the bar and through the club. To say the journey back to your car was arduous was an understatement. Rintaro kept leaning heavily on you, his weight almost too much for you to bear. His stumbling steps made your own balance precarious, especially in your delicate kitten heels. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep you both upright as you navigated the crowded, uneven terrain outside the club.

The rocky pavement outside made the task a lot more challenging than it should be. Each step was a battle, your husband’s larger frame swaying with each faltering step. You glanced around, spotting one of his cars parked far away, but you ignored it and focused on bringing him to yours instead. You’d just have to take care of the traces he left later.

With great effort – and a lot of sweat – you finally managed to get him to your car. You opened the back door, easing him inside. Rintaro whined and resisted, but you persisted, swatting his hands away to get him settled.

You managed to manoeuvre him into the backseat, checking twice to ensure he was comfortable enough before closing the door. Before you could, Rintaro suddenly reached out to you, his fingers tugging at your sleeves. “Wait,” he pleads, his eyes huge and vulnerable.

“What?”

“Need to... need to look good,” he rambled on, stretching his long legs at the backseat and tugging at his own shirt. The material is already wrinkled beyond belief, the top buttons undone. He keeps fidgeting with it, grabbing your hands to help him fix it. Stunned, your hands hover awkwardly over his chest – unsure if buttoning it up for him would be enough to satisfy him. “Do I look good? Don’t wanna – don’t wanna look drunk. She’ll get mad. Don’t want my wife seeing me like this.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. Sighing, you reached over and closed the top buttons, patting his chest down as if to say ‘there you go.’ “You look fine. Stop grumbling.”

Convinced enough, Rintaro stops fidgeting. You were about to close the car door once more when he suddenly pulled you next to him. You squealed, barely catching your balance as you fell beside him. In one, swift movement, Rintaro had laid down and rested his head on your lap, his long legs awkwardly curled beneath him. There, he sighs, his large hands fisting your dress as you sit still – unable to move.

“Just a few more hours, please? I want to sleep.”

You agree, finding it difficult to say no when Rintaro was so… clingy like this. It wasn’t like you could return to the Palace, anyway. Rintaro would most likely be a target of the Police, and the entire government now that everyone knows he was a fraud. He didn’t need to go back to that. You’d rather keep him here – in your lap, safe and sleepy and warm. Unable to help it, you run your hands through his hair, carding your fingers through the strands and raking your nails against his scalp. It causes him to purr like a cat, the sound entertaining before he buries himself closer to your stomach.

“...Nice.”

“What?”

“Said you smell nice. Smell like my wife.”

The morning sunlight filtered through the car windows, its warmth gently jostling you awake. You blinked blearily, momentarily disoriented as you realized you’d fallen asleep. As you tried to move, you noticed the weight on your lap.

Rintaro was asleep there, his face relaxed and peaceful. The harsh lines of stress and pain that usually marked his features were smoothed away as he slumbers, making him appear younger, almost innocent.

You stared at him for a little longer, captivated by the rare serenity in his expression. Your fingers began to move on their own accord, gently caressing his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you marvelled at how different he looked now. In sleep, he seemed free from the burdens that weighed so heavily on him during his waking hours. But now? Your heart softened as you traced the line of his jaw, wishing you could freeze this moment in time – preserve this fleeting glimpse of the man you had once fallen madly in love with.

You hesitated in waking him up, choosing instead to let him rest a little longer.

Carefully, you reached for your purse, digging through it to find your phone. The screen lit up with several missed calls and a flurry of texts from your parents, their messages frantic and pleading for you to answer and tell them where you were. Amongst the many notifications, messages from Kiyoomi caught your eye. His last message read, “please… please tell me you’re safe.”

Your heart ached at his worry, but another message drew your attention. It was from Kuroo, his message short yet ominous: “Princess, I didn’t write this, but I think you should take a look.”

With shaky hands, you clicked on the link. As the article loaded, your anxiety surged – a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down at Rintaro, still peacefully asleep, oblivious to the turmoil that awaited you both.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 ��𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

In a dramatic turn of events that has left the kingdom of Inarizaki reeling, the Queen has been seized by government officials following the revelation of her involvement in heinous crimes. The charges against Her Majesty are severe and include conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and fraud. This unprecedented upheaval marks a dark chapter in Inarizaki's royal history. The Queen stands accused of orchestrating the murder of her own husband, the late King, in a desperate bid to retain power. This shocking revelation came to light after a thorough investigation uncovered irrefutable evidence of her culpability. Additionally, it has been revealed that the Queen kidnapped an innocent baby, presenting him as the Crown Prince to solidify her control over the throne. This child, now known as Suna Rintaro, has been living under the false pretense of royal blood. The official charges against the Queen include: Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Kidnapping, Fraud, and High Treason. Government officials have acted swiftly, seizing Her Majesty and beginning the legal proceedings that will determine her fate. The palace is in turmoil as the full extent of her crimes comes to light. As the kingdom grapples with the Queen's treachery, another scandal has emerged, further destabilizing the royal family. Hours after former Princess Iris publicly revealed her true lineage, incriminating photos of Princess Suna, wife of Suna Rintaro, have surfaced. These photos, taken within the privacy of Belleview Manor, show Prince Kiyoomi and the Crown Prince's wife in a compromising and passionate embrace, confirming longstanding rumors of a cross-marriage affair. The scandal does not end there. Additional evidence has surfaced showing Princess Suna meeting with Kuroo Tetsuro, the notorious journalist responsible for exposing Iris and Rintaro’s affair. In these meetings, Princess Suna is seen paying Kuroo substantial sums of money, effectively funding his comfortable life abroad. It is now evident that Princess Suna orchestrated the recent articles that have shaken the kingdom, making her a clear threat and an enemy of the Crown. The public and government officials are now united in their stance: Princess Suna and Suna Rintaro must be stripped of their titles and exiled from Inarizaki. Their actions have sown discord and threatened the stability of the kingdom, and such betrayal cannot be tolerated. As Inarizaki faces this turbulent time, the hope for a restored and honest royal lineage is strong. The kingdom looks to the future, determined to heal and rebuild in the wake of these revelations. This story is still developing, and we will continue to provide updates as more information becomes available.

Panic surged through you as the article’s revelation settled in.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, each one more frantic than the last. You felt your chest tighten,, your heart pounding so hard as if it would burst. Desperation clawed at you, and you knew you had to get out of the car.

As gently as you could, you pushed Rintaro’s head off your lap, careful not to disrupt his sleep. He stirred slightly, but otherwise remained unconscious. You opened the door and stumbled out onto the pavement, your legs barely supporting you as you fell to your knees. The cold, hard ground bit into your skin, but the sensation was distant – the pain faint compared to the panic that was now beginning to consume you.

Your breaths were coming in ragged, uneven bursts now, your vision blurring with tears.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself as the world spun around you. You knew, without a doubt, that your own Kingdom had already turned against you.

With trembling fingers, you fumbled for your phone. You needed to hear his voice – the one person who could ground you, who could make you feel safe in the midst of all this mess. You found his contact and dialled, holding the phone to your ear with a grip so tight your knuckles turned white. Finally, the call connected, and you breathed out, letting the faint sound of Kiyoomi fumbling in the background like a lifeline.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Thank God you picked up. You weren’t answering any of my calls.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on each word, each comforting tone as you anchored yourself in the present. The world around you began to slow, your breathing gradually evening out. You took a deep, shaky breath, drawing strength from Kiyoomi’s presence, even if it was just through the phone.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Kiyoomi. What’s going on?”

Kiyoomi sighed from the other line. “It’s just as the news said. The Queen is being held by the government to answer for her crimes and you... you’re no longer allowed to return to the Palace. You’ve been deposed.”

“But that’s – that can’t happen. There should be a procedure, a legal procedure before they can strip me off my title!”

“I know, but with everything going on in the country right now, the officials have all decided to skip the formalities and proceed with making any unjust royal family member out of the Palace as soon as possible. You included,” more shuffling rings through the phone, and you hear a car door slamming shut. “But don’t worry, I’m heading out of the Palace right now. Tell me where you are. I’ll come find you.”

Nodding even if Kiyoomi couldn’t see it, you move to send him your location when your phone was suddenly ripped out from your hand. You watched, mouth agape, as Rintaro throws it to the ground and crushes it with the weight of his foot. You scrambled to stand up, fire raging in your veins as you looked at him – Rintaro was now awake, his hair still messed up from sleep, but his eyes were big and bright, like he’d been riding on a high.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” Rintaro glared at you, all the previous softness disappearing from his face. “Are you out of your mind? The news said we’re exiled. And you’re just giving our location to Kiyoomi like that?”

“That’s Kiyoomi! I trust him!”

“He’s a Prince, a member of the Royal Family – the same family you’re no longer a part of. I don’t care if you think you can trust him, there’s nothing he can do for you.”

“Oh, but you can do something about it?”

Rin flinched like he’d been slapped. Still, he kept his composure, his hands planted on his hips as he sighed and looked around you. You were nearly in the middle of nowhere – in the outskirts of the city, far from the inquisitive gaze of the Palace. It was almost hard to believe how so much had happened in such a short span of time, but Kiyoomi was right. Iris wouldn’t let it end there. If she was going to fall, she was going to take everyone down with her.

“I can’t help you, but you heard what they said. I’m exiled – I’m leaving this damned country.”

Your husband slammed the car door shut, and began to walk towards his car. “Rin,” you called out to him, taking two steps at a time to match his pace. “Rin, would you please just stop? Let’s talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

You stopped in your tracks, surprised when he’d turned your away. Rintaro’s face was flushed red, the vein on his neck prominent. “Why are you so angry? Oh, is it because your plans have been ruined and you can’t become King anymore, is that it? Because Iris is gone now, and you can’t have her?”

“Seriously? After all this time, you still can’t get over that?”

The laugh you let out is incredulous. “How can I? You kicked me out of our room a few days ago because you said you wanted to take care of her!”

Rintaro’s face hardens. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, thank you so much for telling me, because that totally changes everything,” you throw your hands up in the air, stomping to where he stood just to sneer at his face. “You really expect me to believe you stopped caring about her? The moment your girlfriend was kicked out of the Palace, what did you do? Oh, right. You went to some dingy, ‘exclusive’ anonymous nightclub and got drunk out of your mind. I think its crystal clear you needed a distraction from the pain of losing her.”

Rintaro scoffed, baring his teeth as he takes on your challenge and comes closer, your noses brushing. “What pain? I couldn’t care less that she’s gone. She never loved me anyway.”

“Then why drink yourself half to death last night? You could’ve been in real danger if I didn’t come looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t have, then.”

“A thank you would suffice.”

Rintaro’s face hardens. He takes more steps, forcing you to walk backwards until you were back to where you started – your back hitting the edge of your car. He looms over you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t decipher. “Why did you look for me, huh? My mistress is gone. She’s out of your hair, and you could’ve had everything you wanted. Why else bother looking for me when all I did was hurt you?”

He practically forces the confession out of you. “Because I was worried about you!”

In an instant, Rintaro’s heat disappears. He flings himself backward like you’d burned him, frowning as he stares you incredulously. Then, he lets out a laugh that sounded more like a pained choke. “You are many things, but I never thought you could be a liar.”

“Liar? What are you talking about?”

He meets your gaze, his eyes cold and daring. “You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t! You know the truth, Y/N. I’m not a Prince – never have been, and never will be. You couldn’t possibly care for a fraud. You know it, too. I’m a nobody, and you were always better than me.”

Rintaro’s words hung in the air, each one landing with a weight that nearly suffocated you. Was that how he thought of you the whole time? That you’d... hated him? Thought of him differently because he wasn’t the King’s son? The very notion left you appalled. The ground beneath you felt like it shifted, your heart clenching painfully at the broken expression he wore. Shame, guilt – it all swam in the dark pools of his eyes, mingling with sorrow as you stared at him.

How could he think that, after everything?

His voice carried defeat, almost as if he wanted you to hate him, as if he believed it would make things easier.

The realization itself twisted something deep inside you. You didn’t hate him – not even close. Maybe you hated what he did, the lies that he’d kept and the facade he’d put on, pretending that he’d loved you when he didn’t. But him not being the King’s son? What did that change? Stood before you was still Rintaro, not Suna, the man you’d adored and cursed from the moon and the back. The thought that he’d been carrying this belief, suffering under it, cut you more deeply than any betrayal. Somehow, this hurt more than finding out he had another.

The fact that this whole time, Rintaro truly believed you looked down on him for not being a Prince. How could he have been so wrong?

The breath was knocked out of you, your shoulders deflating as every muscle in your body softened. “You may not be a Prince, but you’re still my husband. I still care.”

You watched the change in his expression as the words left your lips.

His eyes widened in shock, the disbelief evident against the relief that slowly unfurled across his face. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, his breath catching in his throat. But beneath that relief, confusion lingered, the doubts overshadowing your confession. It was as if he was trying to convince himself that you were wrong, that you should hate him, that your kindness was a mistake.

You could see it all – how Rintaro desperately wanted to believe you, yet he still clung to the pain of his insecurities like it was all he knew.

“If you care so much,” his voice broke as he spoke, “Then why did you kiss Kiyoomi?”

His question struck you like a blow to the chest. The words echoed in your mind, rendering you frozen in place. How could you answer that? How could you justify what you’d done? You could say you didn’t mean it, that you’d regretted it, but that would be a lie. You’d wanted to kiss Kiyoomi. It was a long overdue kiss, and until now, you still wanted to run back into his arms and have him tell you everything would be okay.

And that must show in your face – your blatant infatuation with the Second Prince. Rintaro’s face was a mixture of hurt and confusion as his gaze landed on your lips, probably picturing the way you’d kissed someone else. It made you feel small, like a child caught with their hand deep in a cookie jar. Your mind race, searching for an explanation, a way to make him understand, but all you could feel was the crushing sense of betrayal you’d inflicted on him – on both of you.

The truth was too messy, one that you couldn’t explain yourself. You cared for Rintaro, would do anything to protect him and save him from the mess he’d been tangled in. But you also loved Kiyoomi, loved tangling your hands in his curls, and laying your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. You would fight a far for your husband, but when that war was over?

You would run straight home to Kiyoomi.

Still, you wanted to reach out. To say something, anything, that would take away the pain in his eyes, but the words were lodged deep in your throat. All you could do was stare at him, realizing too late you had hurt him in a way that might never fully feal.

“So you love him,” he concluded, and when you didn’t refuse, Rintaro nodded to himself – letting the words sink in. One of his hands were planted on his hips, the other fisted on his lip with his brows furrowed. “Was it... was it after I kicked you off to Belleview Manor? Or has it... have you liked him for longer than that?”

Since Itachiyama, you wanted to say, almost apologetically, since the day you kept choosing her over me.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a distant rumble interrupted the silence, growing louder and more distinct with each passing second. You barely had time to process it before Rintaro moved, his hand suddenly gripping your arm with a firm urgency.

Rintaro pulled you down, hiding you both behind the car. You followed his lead, heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your face against his back, the creases of his shirt bundled in your palms. Crouched low, the cold pavement pressing against your knees, you watched as he cautiously peeked over the car’s hood, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The sound of engines grew louder, more ominous – like the sound of your end nearing. You dared to peek from above Rintaro’s shoulder until you could make out the distinct patterns of royal emblems on some of the vehicles, followed closely by the flashing lights of police cars.

Fear gripped at you. You could feel your heart pulsing all the way up to your tongue, your breaths coming faster as you glanced at your husband. Rintaro’s expression mirrored your panic, eyes wide and intense.

The vehicles were closing in, fast and steady, like predators hunting their prey. You both knew that your time was running out, that you were no longer Prince and Princess. Exiled. Dethroned. Hunted like the lowly criminals you both were.

Rintaro wasted no time. He yanked you up as gently as he could by your wrist, guiding you into the passenger’s seat before he slammed the door close, and hopped onto the driver’s side. His movements are frantic as he started up the car, letting the engine hum fill the vehicle. “Wear your seatbelt.”

“But Rin, you were just drunk last night–”

The engine roared to life as Rintaro slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. “I’m fine now, and I drive faster than you. You know that. Wear your seatbelt.”

The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the pavement. You felt your body press back into the seat as your heart pounded in time with the racing vehicle. The world outside blurred into a streak of colours as you shot down the road, the cool morning air rushing in through the partially open windows.

You could hear the shriek of sirens behind you, the vehicles in pursuit closing in fast.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharp and intoxicating, as your mind raced to keep up with the unfolding chaos. This was real. This was happening. You were no longer just royals entangled in a web of lies and deceit – you were fugitives now, running from a government that once hailed you as symbols of hope and power.

Rintaro’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he weaved through the narrow streets with a precision born of desperation. Each sharp turn sent her stomach lurching, the tires skidding dangerously close to the edges of the road. You cried out his name, and Rintaro hissed as he swerved back to safety. You could see the cityscape flashing by in jagged, disorienting bursts – the familiar landmarks rendered alien the further you flew away.

The vehicles behind you were relentless, engines howling as they sped after you with unyielding force. The sirens were deafening, mocking.

You glanced over at Rintaro, seeing the intense focus etched into his features, the slight tremor in his jaw as he pushed the car harder, faster, willing it to escape the grip of your pursuers.

The realization hit you like a physical blow – you were criminals now. Your life of luxury, of duty, and privilege, it was all over. Everything you had known, everything you had believed in, was crumbling away behind you, left in the dust of your panicked escape. There was no going back now, no return to the life you once had. You would have to leave everything behind – the Palace, the titles, your parents, Kiyoomi.

The car swerved violently as Rintaro took a sharp corner, the tires screeching as you fought for traction. The chase had spilled deeper into the outskirts of the city, where the streets were narrower, the buildings older and more decrepit. The vibrant pulse of the city was fading, giving way to a desolate stretch of road that seemed to go on forever, before it disappeared into the horizon like a thin thread of hope.

Beside you, Rintaro’s face was set in grim desperation, his eyes locked on the road ahead as the car surged forward, fuelled by the desperate need to escape. You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken understanding between you that this was your only chance.

And with that, you accepted your fate.

This was the path you had chosen – no, the path that been forced upon you. The chase continued, the world outside becoming a blur of speed and danger. You braced yourself for whatever lay ahead, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

“They’re getting close,” Rintaro said through gritted teeth. One glance at the rear view mirror confirmed your worst fears; they were closing in on you, and that meant the end was nearing. You knew without a doubt that as soon as the government laid their hands on you, everything was over. Rintaro would be exiled, or worse, executed for infiltrating the sacred walls of the Palace – even if it hadn’t been his fault. And you would lose everything, everyone, that you ever cared about. You couldn’t let that happen. “Fuck! I need something to get them off my tail!”

You moved without thinking.

Reaching for the gun secretly stashed in the glove compartment, you quickly rolled the windows down, the upper half of your body carefully sliding out as you unlatched the seatbelt. “Hey!” Rintaro shouted, “What are you doing? Get back! It’s not safe!”

“I’m still the General’s daughter. They won’t shoot,” eyes narrowed, you aimed at the nearest police car who’d been hot on your heels. There was only a few inches left before they could bump into you. “But I will.”

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt.

The rush of the wind whipped through the car, pulling at your skin and stinging your eyes. Your finger hovered over the trigger, the world narrowing down to the police car’s tire, spinning so fast it seemed almost like a blur.

You fired.

The crack of the gunshot echoed in your years, the sound so loud it was deafening. You watched as the bullet hit its mark, the tire exploding in a burst of rubber and metal. The police car veered wildly, the driver losing control as the vehicle swerved violently across the road. Then, with a sickening lurch, it tumbled over, metal screeching against asphalt as it rolled, flipping end over end before it crashed into the guardrail. The screech of tires and the crash of metal filled the air as the cars behind it desperately slammed on their brakes, unable to avoid the wreckage. One by one, they collided, a chaotic pileup of twisted metal and broken glass until the entire road was blocked.

You slid back into your seat, your breathing ragged, your chest painfully tight.

Your hands were still shaking, the gun trembling in your grasp. Cold sweat dotted your skin, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you stared at wreckage left behind you. The pursuing cars had been held back, unable to continue the chase.

The road was clear.

Rintaro pressed down harder on the gas, sending the car forward with renewed speed. The roar of the engine filled the car, its sound fierce and almost primal. You could feel the velocity pulling you back into your seat, your body slamming onto the leather.

As the wreckage disappeared from view, the chaotic noise behind you fading into the distance, you let out a shaky breath. You glanced down at the gun in your hands, the metal still cool against your skin despite the heat of the moment. It had been necessary, but the reality of what you had done settling heavily. You exhaled, trying to calm the trembling in your hands.

Rintaro eyed you from his seat, his jaw clenched before he glanced back at the road. “Do you know what you just did?” You nodded, tears now brimming at your lash line. “You’ve just officially declared that we’re at war with the country. They’re never going to let us go.”

“I know,” you were crying now – the tears unstoppable as you pressed your palms against your eyes. “I know.”

Rintaro was quiet for a moment. So quiet you wondered if he was still there, and he was. The tension never left his face, and he never once slowed down in his speed. But he was calmer, in some ways, his face set into a determined frown. “We can’t go back. We can’t say goodbye to anyone anymore.”

You couldn’t say goodbye to Kiyoomi.

“Where are we going, Rin?”

“Far,” was all he says, and the road that stretched before you suddenly seemed endless. “Far, far away from here where they can’t hurt you.”

“You mean us.”

“Of course,” he stole a quick glance at you, surprising you when you saw how his face had softened. Almost as if he’d already accepted that the life he’d lived was never his, and he had nothing but the future ahead of himself. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. But if you... if you tell me to turn back, I will. I’ll find a way to get you back to Kiyoomi–”

“No,” you interjected, and Rintaro’s eyes widened. “I... I’m staying with you.”

Rintaro’s eyes scanned your face, looking for the answers. “Are you absolutely certain? You don’t have to, you know. This country can still forgive you, they can love you still–”

“I’m staying with you.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his face unreadable under the faint morning light. “Okay. It’s you and me.”

The decision to leave wasn’t easy.

It clawed at you, gnawed at the very fabric of your being, but you knew – deep down, in the place where love was both cruel and kind – that you couldn’t stay. You wanted to fight, to clear your name and prove to the world that you were innocent, to stand in front of the kingdom with your head held high. You wanted to see your parents again, feel their arms around you, hear their voices assure you that everything would be okay.

But even as these thoughts plagued your mind, they were outweighed by something stronger, something inescapable.

You thought of him – Kiyoomi, the Prince you ended up falling for. The one who’d stolen your heart, not with grand gestures, but with quiet moments, gentle touches, and promises whispered in the dark. You still remembered the warmth of being in his arms, the way he looked at you with eyes that saw through your soul, the comfort you found in his presence, and the future you’d dared imagined together. You had given him his heart when it felt all was too late, and he had given you his the moment you laid your eyes on his. Each one of you were willing to sacrifice so much for the other – it just never occurred to you that you would sacrifice Kiyoomi now.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than you could have ever imagined. The thought of leaving Kiyoomi behind, of crushing the trust he’d given you, of severing the bond you had formed – was a pain so deep it nearly made you want to ask Rintaro to turn back. At least let me say goodbye. Let me look at him one last time. You wanted to stay with him, to choose him, to finally build the life with Kiyoomi that he’d promised, but you couldn’t. He didn’t even have the littlest idea that that had been your last conversation, the last time you’d hear each other’s voices.

Because there was another man – Rintaro, your husband. The one who, despite everything, still held a huge fraction of your heart.

He was the one who needed you now, and he didn’t have anyone else. You’d seen the despair in his eyes, the loneliness that consumed him, the way his eyes didn’t quite match what he said as it held the silent please for you to not abandon him, to not cast him aside like everyone had. You knew him well enough to understand that if you left, he would disappear – not just from the world, but from life itself.

Rintaro would slip away, fade into the shadows, and you would never find him again. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose him like that.

So you chose him.

You chose to run away with him, to leave behind everything you’d known, everyone you’d loved. It was a choice born out of duty, of loyalty, and of the twisted love that still tied you to him. It was the right choice, not that it made it any easier. The ache in your heart would remain and scar you forever, haunted by the knowledge you would never see Kiyoomi again, never hold him, never tell him how much he’d meant to you.

It was a loss you would carry with you for the rest of your life.

But you couldn’t do it any other way, couldn’t have gone a different path and not think of Rintaro still. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you’d left him alone, if you let him slip away into the darkness that beckoned him. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness, even if it meant leaving behind the one person who’d taught you to love again. You had to choose Rintaro, even if it came with the price of letting everything else go.

So you did.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and made the choice you knew would tear you apart. You ran away. And as the world blurred around you, as you fled into the unknown, hand-in-hand with your husband, you couldn’t stop thinking of the Prince you’d left behind – the man who would always hold your heart in his hands, even if you could never return to him.

“You and me, Rin.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #rintaro suna x reader #kiyoomi x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x you #kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #cw: incest #cw: gun #suna rintarou x fem! reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x reader angst

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thisblogisaboutabook · 9 months ago

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Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

———————————

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious

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therealcocoshady · 21 days ago

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Yes 💍

A/N : a while ago I got an Ask requesting that I wrote the episode of the « Marshall + Lily » series in which he finally gets married to reader (Lily’s mom). I was in a mood to write but felt like I needed a little break from Kinktober so… here we are 💕. I hope you enjoy it !

The morning of the wedding was quiet, filled with a nervous excitement that buzzed through Marshall as he adjusted his suit in the mirror. He hadn’t slept much the night before. He missed both you and Lily too much, but you had agreed to honor tradition and spend some time apart before the big day. He couldn’t care less, but you had insisted that it would make the moment even more special. Besides, it was only 48 hours, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right ? If anything, it would be a opportunity for him to enjoy some good times spent with his brother and friends - his last hours as a « bachelor », before tying the knot for what would be the last time ever.

Nate had made sure that these 48 hours were time well spent. Evidently, he had taken his role as best man to heart, making sure he got to enjoy life as a « single » man (on paper) one last time. It had been fun, for sure, but it had mostly reminded him of little he would miss it all. He was truly grateful that he got to commit to you and that, after this day, you and Lily would officially be his family.

From the moment you started planning the wedding, it had been important to include both of your children as much as possible. After all, it was the point of all of this : forming a blended, tight-knit family. Alaina was to serve as wedding officiant, Hailie would walk Marshall down the aisle, Stevie would be in charge of the wedding rings as well as Lily, who would be the flower girl. Your little girl being two, you knew she would most likely need someone to monitor her while she walked down the aisle and, Stevie being her new favorite sister, it felt like a good choice.

The ceremony was set up outside, a stunning backdrop of autumn leaves casting shades of red and gold over the aisle. Both of your friends and family sat in neat rows, everyone turning to look as the music started, a soft, sweet melody filling the air. Marshall took a deep breath, his heart pounding with anticipation as he walked down the aisle with Hailie. As soon as he reached the altar, he gave her a long, heartfelt hug and focused his attention on the aisle. He couldn’t wait to see you walk to him. His bride. The love of his life. He was minutes away from marrying you and the wait was still too long.

But first came Stevie and Lily. They were walking side by side and he could tell his youngest was keeping a close watch on her new sister. Lily toddled down the aisle, clutching a small basket with all the focus and determination her little face could muster. Dressed in a tiny white dress with a delicate flower crown on her head, she looked every bit the perfect flower girl. She had a tiny frown of concentration as she tried to remember her instructions, taking a few steps and then stopping to grab a handful of petals. With a small, serious toss, she’d sprinkle them on the ground, glancing up occasionally, as if making sure she was doing it right. His heart melted. She was the cutest thing ever and, with the focused frown on her face, she looked just like you.

But then, halfway down the aisle, Lily’s eyes met his, and everything changed. The moment she spotted him, her whole face lit up, her little mouth stretching into a big, toothy grin. Her tiny hands released the basket, petals scattering across the aisle as she took off toward him, her little legs moving as fast as they could. Too fast for Stevie to grab her, anyway.

“Daddy!” she squealed, her voice carrying through the ceremony, pure joy and excitement bubbling over as she ran, arms outstretched, her flower crown slipping slightly as she sprinted down the aisle. Marshall felt a lump rise in his throat, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he knelt down, his arms open wide to catch her. He could hear the soft laughter and murmurs of the guests around them, but for him, everything else faded away. There was only Lily, his precious little girl, running to him as if nothing else in the world mattered. When she reached him, she practically launched herself into his arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he lifted her up, holding her close. She nestled her face into his shoulder, babbling something incoherent but full of love, as if she’d been waiting weeks to see him. He threw a glance at Stevie, silently assuring her that everything was ok. In fact, everything was perfect.

“Hey, Lil,” he whispered, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek as he held her. “I missed you too, baby girl.” Lily patted his cheek, her little hands clinging to him as if she didn’t want to let go. He could feel the warmth of her against him, and he knew this was a moment he’d never forget. The laughter and whispers of your family and friends filled the air around them, a mix of affection and amusement at the sight.

You were watching from the other end of the aisle, feeling your heart swell as you took in the scene. You had been waiting for your cue to make your entrance, but seeing Lily abandon her flower duties to run to Marshall brought tears to your eyes. This was everything you had ever wanted—a man who loved you, who loved your daughter, with a devotion that was fierce and unbreakable. She could see the love in his eyes as he held Lily close, and it made your heart ache with happiness.

After a moment, Marshall gently set Lily down, giving her a soft pat on the back. “Okay, kiddo, how about you go sit with Grandma now?” he whispered, his voice warm and full of pride. But Lily shook her head, her little face scrunched up in defiance, clinging to his leg as if she’d never let go. With a soft laugh, Marshall glanced at the crowd, shrugging in mock surrender as he held out his hand. “Alright, looks like I’ve got a plus-one for this ceremony.”

The guests chuckled, and your heart swelled even more as you finally began your walk down the aisle, the music changing to a gentle, romantic melody. You moved slowly, your eyes never leaving his, heart racing as you took in the way he looked at you —the same way he’d looked at Lily, with love and devotion, but this time, there was something even deeper, a promise in his gaze. As he stared at you, as he took in your beauty and how radiant you were in your gown, he couldn’t help but be overcome with emotion. From the very beginning of your relationship, he had been fully aware of how lucky he was, but that instant had him feeling blessed. The years before you had been difficult. It had been a decade full of pain, grief and sorrow. And yet, happiness had managed to find him. Life had blessed him with an incredible wife and a new daughter. He was so happy that he couldn’t help the tears from falling. « Daddy ! No crying ! » Lily called in an alarmed voice that made everyone smile. Marshall let out a small laugh and wiped his tears before crouching down to carry her. « I’m not sad, baby. I’m just really, really happy. » he said softly. He held her close while they looked at you.

As you reached him, Marshall handed Lily off to Stevie with a soft, affectionate smile, finally able to turn his full attention to you. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his eyes filled with a love that was almost overwhelming.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, just for you. You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek as you squeezed his hands. “So do you. Though I think someone else is stealing the show.” You shared a laugh, both glancing over at Lily, who was sitting in her sister’s lap, watching you with bright eyes and a big smile, as if she knew exactly what was happening.

The ceremony proceeded, filled with heartfelt vows, quiet laughter, and promises spoken in soft, trembling voices. When it was finally time for Marshall to say “I do,” he looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away, his voice steady and full of certainty.

“I do. With all my heart,” he said, glancing briefly at Lily before looking back at you. “To both of you.” As you exchanged rings and shared your first kiss as husband and wife, the crowd erupted in applause, and Lily clapped along, babbling with joy as if she understood exactly what this meant. Marshall held you close, feeling the weight of his promises settle into his heart, and he knew that this was the family he’d fought for, the life he’d dreamed of.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers imagine

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lovecla · 2 months ago

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TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter five:

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 3.9k

💌 from me to you: honestly, today was a lot! i broke my phone yesterday and had to buy a new one today (i’m now poor :,) and i deadass forgot my email and i lost all of my works AHAH (quinn’s voice: it’s funny but it’s not funny). thankfully, i had already saved all of TYPA chapters here on tumblr so they’re safe and well. anyways, enjoy! 🤎

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

lavieenrose

Vancouver, Canada

liked by madisoncarter, adrianalima, zayn and 528,012 other people

lavieenrose We are thrilled to announce our newest Flower, Madison Carter! Welcome to our garden, gorgeous! 🌹

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౨ৎ

“SO QUINN Hughes is your childhood best friend?” Victoria sounded amused.

You chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“What a small world we live in!” She raised her arm, making prayer hands. “God, if you’re out there, make my dream of fucking Luke Hughes come true.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.” You joke, watching as she winks at you, going back to her rambling about how funny it was that you and the Hughes were familiar with each other.

It was the week before your first official fashion show in Vancouver, and things were extremely busy. Today you and the other models had to visit the hall where the show would happen so you could practice your walk and get familiar with the runway’s layout.

Victoria wasn’t a model per se, even if she was one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen, but she still made sure to be there with you so you wouldn't be totally alone.

The other models were nice to you but you were still extremely shy, and it usually took you a while for you to get used to new people. Thankfully, Victoria could help you just fine.

“But like,” she raises her voice again, staring at you funny. “Should I tell Gil to send the Canucks some invitations?”

You raised your brow at her, ready to say no. After that night at your house, a week ago, you and Quinn were… different. Being one hundred percent honest, you were different with Quinn. He was still the same as always, texting every day and asking about how you and Bella were doing, since he was away— again— and couldn’t check on you in person.

And you thought it was sweet.

Awfully sweet.

Dangerously sweet.

After the thoughts you had while he sat on your couch that night, thick thighs spread cozily across your couch, dress shirt opened and hair falling perfectly on his face, you decided that being away from him was probably the best thing you could do for your relationship.

“I don’t think they’ll be interested in coming,” you lie, shrugging. “It’s not like they’re interested in lingeries.”

“Hum—”

“At least not in the way you want them to be!” You quickly added, not letting Victoria’s mind wander to horny places.

“I don’t know about that, Mads,” she clicks her tongue, watching as the crew move around you both, lunch break already about to end. “We could invite only the single ones. What do you think?”

You laugh and joke: “I think that’s a great idea.”

Obviously, it wasn’t. Nothing about Quinn seeing you in lingerie was a good idea, but who were you to crash Victoria’s dream? Besides, the Canucks would never actually go to a fashion show unless they were forced to, so you had nothing to worry about.

“Okay, Madison, I need you to walk up there again.” Rory, the casting director called you, and you promptly got out of your seat to do what he needed you to.

And just like that your thirty minute lunch break was over.

౨ৎ

“THIS IS the day you all have been waiting for, girls,” James yells, loud enough to be heard by all the fifty girls standing backstage. “I need you all to shine today!”

You could feel your hands sweaty and your heart beating faster than ever. Today was the fashion show you've been preparing for everyday ever since you moved to Canada and watching it all unfold in front of you was anything but not stressful.

This was the first fashion show you did in months and you knew people were expecting something big.

“Madison,” James calls you, and you immediately go to his side, excluded from the other girls. He looks at you with his fierce, cat eyes and you almost gulp. “Today’s your night. The majority of the people are here to see you, they’re here to see Madison Carter. Do you understand that?”

You nod, blinking fast. “I do.”

“Great,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say this in front of the other girls because I don’t want them to feel bad, but having you here is pure gold, and the press is ready to put any mistake in a headline. So, can you be my prettiest flower tonight, baby?”

You smile, feeling confident all of a sudden. You had to remind yourself that you were pretty, even if sometimes your brain liked to tell you otherwise. People were here to see you, they paid money to watch you walk down that stage, and you’d give them a show.

You’d prove to everyone that you were just that girl. Even your own family.

“I can, J.” You confirm, shaking your arms slightly.

“Then great. You know when you have to enter the stage, don’t you?” You nod again, of course you did. You all rehearsed this so many times that it would be hard for you not to know. James turns around and starts speaking loud again, trying to talk to all fifty girls at once. “RAYE is here tonight and even though your job is to walk, I want you all to interact with her and her songs. I want you all on time and I want you all on your best behavior.”

Celestial Allure was the name of tonight’s collection, all of you wearing different shades of white, pastel pink, blue and purple, not to mention the tiny golden details in your hair and heels. Your makeup consisted in white eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner and big, angelic lashes. You had little to no blush in your cheeks, the focus on representing a pale, unreal face. Your lips had a natural pinkish color and you had highlighter all over your collarbone and nose.

Your opening outfit couldn’t even be called an outfit; it was simply a white, twinkle strap lace corset with matching panties, heels that adored your legs and reminded you of something Barbie would wear, your hair was perfectly styled with waves falling down like a waterfall.

You took a deep breath, the first notes of Escapism echoing through the entire place, and you knew it was the time for your entrance.

After saying a quick prayer, you enter the stage, immediately putting on your work mindset, not letting any of the hundred eyes make you feel nervous. One step and then another, your body moved alongside the music’s beat, RAYE’s warm smile and powerful presence making you feel less nervous. You made sure that your body was moving like James and Rory had instructed, lightly and featherly.

The camera flashes didn’t hurt your eyes anymore, thankfully, because there were so many of them that even if the building had dim lighting, the stage looked as bright as the sun.

“A little context if you care to listen, I find myself in a shit position,” you mouthed the words, walking down the stage like you owned, because, in fact— you did. “The man that I love sat me down last night, and he told me that it's over, dumb decision.”

You waved to some of the cameras, smiling from ear to ear, genuinely happy.

Even if it was a hard world, the happiness you got from modeling and wearing beautiful, delicate pieces like the one you were wearing right now was unbeatable.

Outfit after outfit, walk after walk, you made it to the end of the show, letting your eyes get shiny with tears when James grabbed your hand and walked with you to the end of the stage, raising your arm and bowing with you. You smiled, watching as people clapped for you and shouted your name.

Backstage, you ran around hugging the other models, all of you so emotional and happy. Your favorite part about working with La Vie en Rose was that they prioritized girls who supported other girls, and not girls who tried to get on top by dragging other girls, something that happened daily in the fashion world.

Victoria also hugged you, taking pictures and handing you your outfit change so you could talk to the press.

“Madison, Madison,” your name was on every reporter’s mouth, flashes and cameras being shoved in your face. You smiled through the uncomfortable feeling of all of your actions and breathing being recorded and pointed to one of the interviewers there, letting her speak.

“You were absolutely divine today. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you smile, shaking your head. “This is the first show I’ve done in a while and I’m still getting back from the high.”

“The crowd’s reaction was amazing. Did you expect such a strong response?”

“No,” you laugh, sincerely. “I am used to my supporters in Los Angeles but knowing this many people would show up here in Vancouver? It’s insane. But I’m grateful anyway.”

“Speaking of moving to Vancouver, what can we expect from your Canadian side?”

“Everything. I’m always open to new opportunities and signing a contract with a brand as special to me as La Vie en Rose can mean a lot of good things.” You move to the next reporter, who was almost shoving the microphone down your throat.

“What can you say about the Canucks team being here? Do you know any of them personally?”

That caught you so off guard you had to hold back a gasp.

“What do you mean?” You ask carefully, trying your best to keep your smile from falling. “The… Canucks are here?”

“You didn’t know?” The reporter scoffs. “We have players like Quinn Hughes, Brock Boeser, Conor Garland and Elias Pettersson in the audience.”

“Oh,” you say, moving your head to the side, trying to see something past that sea of cameras. “Hum. I didn’t know they were here. I think it’s, hum, great and… yeah.”

“Time’s up, fellas!” Victoria shouts, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to the side. “The other models are right there, ready for your questions. Thank you all, bye.”

“Thank you guys, have a good night,” you say before heading backstage. You turn your head to Victoria’s direction, eyes doubled in size. “Did you know the Canucks are here?”

“‘Course I did. I sent the invite.” She answers like it was nothing.

“You what?”

“Well, basically it wasn’t me, it was Gil, but I was the one who told him to invite them— and why are you so surprised anyway? We talked about this and you said it was a great idea!”

“I was joking, obviously,” you shout-whisper, walking around the room with Victoria beside you. “You’re crazy.”

“Well, now they’re here and we have to greet them.” She smiles, walking around people with a gorgeous smile plastered on her face. “Hi, good night.”

You had to set your apprehension aside and greet the other people there, so many designers, fashion students and artists congratulated you and asked for pictures. You were happy people were as pleased as you about you moving to Canada and even happier to see that you had so many supporters.

“Oh my God, there’s Quinn Hughes,” Victoria whispers beside you, making you snap your head in his direction.

And there he was. Wearing a gorgeous, dark blue suit, hair slicked back and hands in his pockets, standing there like Prince Charming himself. He was surrounded by three other men, who you could only imagine were his teammates, chatting quietly with one of them.

“Let’s go say hi.” Victoria grabs your hand and makes her way to their little chatting circle, Quinn noticing you before anyone else.

His eyes held a different kind of feeling that night, with him eyeing you up and down. His eyes discreetly trailed your body, the tiniest smile adorning his lips when his eyes met yours.

“Maddie.” He said your name with that raspy voice of his, making you shiver internally.

You smile shyly, watching as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Hi, Quinn,” you greet him back, face warm with all the attention. “Hum. Hi, guys,” you greet the other men, as six pairs of eyes stare back at you. “I’m Madison.”

They all give you a cheek kiss and a hug, broad bodies embracing yours like a giant blanket. They introduced themselves, and you were right; they were Quinn’s teammates.

“This is Victoria,” you introduce your friend, who eagerly hugs the players as well.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” She asks and you watch as they all laugh and nod.

The one you remember being called Conor speaks first. “Honestly when we got the invitation I thought it was really random. But it was actually fire.”

“Yeah,” one of them, Pettersson, you think, agrees, putting his hands inside his pockets. “The girls are pretty. You’re pretty.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling and thanking them.

“We were just going out for drinks at a bar just down the street, do you want to join?” One of them— you didn’t remember the name— asks, and before you could even think of what to say, Victoria jumps in front of you with her eager yes.

You looked at Quinn, watching as he stared right back at you, pointing to the entrance with his head.

You all walked out of the event hall together, photographers going crazy with the flashes and you knew that besides talking about your performance that night, people were also going to talk about your proximity with the Hughes and the Canucks.

The other players chatted with Victoria in front of you, while you and Quinn walked behind them, close enough that your naked shoulder touched his covered arm.

“Aren’t you cold?” He blurts out of nowhere, and you smile, shaking your head no.

“Not really. I’m still coming down from the high from earlier.”

“You were amazing, Mads,” he praises you, licking his lips. “Never seen you like that before. Just… stunning.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure why Quinn’s compliment made you feel better than if it were anyone else’s. “Did you like it?” Even though Victoria had already asked them this question, you asked it again, because you wanted to know what Quinn had thought of it.

“Yes,” he winks, smirking at you. “Yes, I did.”

“Great.”

You continued to make small talk on your way to the bar, underestimating how crowded it would actually be. Thankfully, there were a lot of Canucks fans there, and a group of random people let you stay at their table in exchange for a picture with their captain, Quinn, which he promptly took.

“Do you want to drink anything?” The handsome brown-haired fella, Garland, you think, asked you, a few seconds after you sat down.

“Let her breathe first, idiot,” you heard Quinn mumble beside you, making you laugh.

“Maybe a Sex on the Beach?” You said simply, not really interested in Conor’s flirting. He’s hot, but he isn’t Quinn.

Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking that you can actually have anything with Quinn, you thought, feeling yourself deflate just a little.

“Freaky,” Connor answered, before moving to the bar with the other guys.

“You won’t drink anything?” Victoria asked Quinn, since he was the man who stayed at the table.

He shrugs. “I’m driving.”

“Oh, we love a responsible king,” she nods to herself, giving you an approving smile. What she was approving was still a mystery.

Quinn eyes you, silently questioning you where you’d found that girl, and you only smiled, raising your shoulders.

The rest of the team took a while to come back, something about the bar being too crowded, but Conor handed your cocktail and winked at you.

“So, Madison,” he starts, sitting in front of you. “Are you single?”

Boeser whistled while Pettersson laughed out loud, hitting Conor’s shoulders.

“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?” You retort, roiling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. “But, yes, I am. I’m not interested in anything serious at the moment, though.”

“One step forward for Conie here but at what cost?” Boeser shouts, clicking his beer on the table. You can hear Victoria laughing with Pettersson beside you, and you seriously want to pinch her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Quinn speaks beside you, and suddenly all eyes are on him, yours included. He seems to realize what he had just said because his cheeks turn a very light shade of pink. “I mean, with a face like yours, I’d find it pretty hard to believe that any woman would be interested in you.”

“Fuck you, Cap,” Conor gives him the finger, sipping on his beer before winking at you. “Maddie here knows what’s good.”

“Don’t call her that,” Quinn hisses and both you and Victoria share a stare with each other.

Thankfully, Vic’s really good at changing topics and after five seconds she got all of the Canucks players talking with her at the same time. Garland seemed to have forgotten about you momentarily, and you were thankful for that.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Quinn who looked like he was having the worst time of his life. You frowned.

“What got you so upset?” You whisper, watching as he stops staring at his water bottle to stare at you.

“I’m not upset.”

“This little thing here…” you place your finger between his eyebrows, watching the furrow disappear underneath your finger. “…tells me a different story. Was it Conor?”

“Why would I be upset with him?” He taps his fingers on the table, once, twice.

“I know that you don’t like it when people call me Maddie.” You tell him, smiling softly. You would never confess it to him, but you didn’t like when people called you that too. Quinn had been the first person to call you that, to give you a nickname, and you wanted to keep that one between you both.

“He just can’t keep himself inside his pants,” He admits, and you smile even wider, finding the entire situation entirely funny. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“It is to me,” you rest your chin on your hand. “Well, I know he won’t get inside my pants any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, and, finally, you watch his face transform into something that wasn’t a scowl or a frown. “Good.”

You gulp and pray to God that he doesn’t notice the way your thighs slowly close together, your body clearly desperate for something. Something that anyone else could give you, but you wanted it from the only person who was out of your league.

But perhaps God wasn’t listening to you like He usually did, because the way Quinn’s blue eyes turned into a grayish shade before he calmly placed his right hand on your left thigh told you a different truth.

Then he somehow inserted himself back in the conversation, leaving his hands on your thigh for the rest of the night, while you tried to keep up with what they were saying but failed miserably since all you could think was how his hands looked so big on you that maybe, just maybe, some of his other parts would be big too…

You sighed, forgetting for a few seconds that you were in public. Being around Quinn made your head work in the wrong way and trying to get back on the right path was tiring and exhausting.

“Are you not having fun?” You scared yourself with how close Quinn actually was, his lips almost touching your ear.

“‘M just tired,” you mumbled, feeling bad for interrupting Quinn’s conversation, even if the rest of the people at the table were still talking animatedly between themselves. “And I miss Bella.”

You hear his breathy laugh beside you. “I miss Bella too. Come on, let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I’ll call a cab.”

“You’re funny.” he says before opening his wallet and placing two hundred Canadian dollars on the table. “Madison and I are going home.”

“Uh, well… bye?” You say, uncertain of what you should do. It seemed rude to you to just leave like this, but you also knew Quinn wasn’t backing up now, and you were telling the truth when you told him you miss Bella. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“The pleasure was all ours, baby,” Conor says, winking at you. “Come see our next game. We’ll save you and Vicky a spot.” You tell him that you will, and then you smile politely, kissing Victoria’s cheek.

“Do you want me to take you home?” You ask, and she turns the cutest shade of red, eyes staring at Boeser for just a brief second before turning at you again. Oh. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she winks, kissing you too. “Drive safe.”

You briefly hug the other players, wishing them a good night before you leave the bar with Quinn’s hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, with Quinn making tiny remarks here and there, but you were so close to saying fuck to all of your beliefs and kissing him that you realized that staying quiet was probably the best move.

It wasn’t like you thought Quinn wasn’t into you. You weren’t dumb, and you knew what the stares he gave you meant, but you also knew that what you had with him, your friendship, was precious and not something that happened to everyone.

Even if you’d just restarted seeing each other a short while ago, it was like you hadn’t stopped talking at all. He still took care of you like he did to young Madison years ago, and he still let you take care of him like you would’ve done if he’d stayed in your life when you grew up.

So risking it all just because you were horny? Not a chance.

“You’re so quiet,” he points out, making a U turn. “Do you miss Bella this much?”

You smile, resting your head on the window. “I do, yeah. But I’m also just tired. Today was a lot.”

“I was telling the truth when I said you were stunning, Maddie. You owned that stage. No one was looking at anyone else.”

“Oh, stop it, Quinn,” you tried to hide the fact that his compliments made you want to start running around while shouting his name. “It’s just my job.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, but didn't say anything else, what was probably for the better. If he complimented you again, you wouldn’t sure that you would be able to stay in your seat without climbing on his lap and begging him to fuck you.

Quinn parks in front of your apartment building and smiles at you, tired eyes shining like the moon that decorated the sky that night. “Want me to go upstairs with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I know you’re tired,” you bit your lip, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you for coming. And for the ride too.”

“I enjoyed tonight. We should… we should do this again.”

You smirk, playfully. “And invite Conor too?”

He groans, laughing softly.

“No, definitely no,” he shakes his head. “I know that dork already invited you but… if you want to come watch our next game, just give me a heads up. I’ll get tickets for you and your friend.”

“Only if we get to stay in that seat where we can watch the players beat each other up from up close.” You joke, watching as he laughs, wrapping his hand around his abs.

“Consider it done, M,” he blinks, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Mhm,” you nod, removing your seatbelt and pushing your body forward, until you place a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his stubble softly scratch your lips. “Night, Quinn.”

“Bye, Mads.” he whispers, watching you leave the car and only driving away when he sees you enter your building.

You sigh out loud, trying to understand what the hell happened tonight.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, _quinnhughes, imgmodels and 828,023 other people

madisoncarter little dump from tonight. thank u all for coming 🌟 lavieenrose

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raye this show was yours. Prettiest woman in the world. Xx

vic_alonso we look soooo good in that pic babe

vic_alonso also lowkey wanna kiss u again

user1 vic_alonso 📸🤨

madisoncarter @vic_alonso ‘m all urs baby

user2 why is my husband liking this when he doesn’t even know how to post a picture without Jack’s help pls I need answers

user3 oh both luke jack and quinn liked this we are cooked

maddiecarter_updates We don’t know if we want to be you or have you 🙂‍↕️ stunning as always, queen!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

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