#it was better than i thought in fact it was AMAZING

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet. 

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood. 

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that. 

“Oh my god, there you are!”  Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

 Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun. 

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss. 

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.” 

“Again?” 

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode.  “I got a text from the guy from last night.” 

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk. 

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible. 

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing-  “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need. 

 Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. “Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on. 

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.”  He leans in on his elbows, sternly.  “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!” 

Fuck. Double fuck. 

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-”  Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.” 

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist.  “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally.  “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

 Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside.  “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with  a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you. 

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!” 

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.  

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it. 

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert. 

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement. 

 “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room  without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall.  “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has. 

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his. 

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass- 

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment. 

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-”  he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal. 

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

 Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him. 

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing. 

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious. 

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you. 

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-” 

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time. 

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep. 

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.” 

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight. 

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg.  “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine. 

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis. 

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.  

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.  

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

 “I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg.  “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.” 

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do. 

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes. 

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over. 

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries. 

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble 

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection.  “You don’t think we’re done, do you?” 

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand.  Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark. 

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?” 

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you’re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth.  “You poor, neglected thing.” 

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?”  you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle. 

“I’m going to do-”  Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

[readingiskeepingmegoing]

The fact that you posted this on my birthday made me squeal with glee!

My first thoughts were of the way Dieter had taken care of me in every way possible after the show. He brought me home, made an amazing dinner, and ran a hot bath as he promised. He joined me in the tub, massaging my neck, shoulders, and back as he his lips trailed behind his hands - managing to get me completely relaxed and turned on in the process. He followed that with a scalp massage as he washed the product from my hair before rinsing with the handheld sprayer. I offered to wash his in return since it still had all of the gel in it from the show, but he refused, instead drying me off and sending me to bed while he jumped in the shower.

He really is an acts of service love language kind of guy, isn't he? His desire to give the care which he himself has lacked is so adorable

He really was putting in the effort to experience all forms of intimacy, always looking out for me and taking care of me in ways that Alec had never even tried.

Asshat Alec! Such a douchebag. 😒

Even as my brain shouted at me to slow things down, my body craved him.

Kat is all of us, and we are Kat!

He smiled and nodded against the pillow, “So good. It’s so much better with you here.”  I felt my heart flutter as his chocolate eyes danced around my face. I could see that strange look there again, like he wanted to say something but didn’t. 

Both of them just need to say it. Acknowledge that it has happened fast and that they need to be careful, but stop dancing around the subject (pun fully intended) 😂

He continued, “I’ll get a new number, OK? I was thinking about doing it anyway because I’m pretty sure one of my dealers texted me the other day…I blocked him…just so we’re clear.” 

I love that his first thought is to get a new number and not try to just explain it away. That is a lot growth from Dieteer, pre-rehab pre-Kat Dieter wouldn't have done that.

A soft curl fell down over his eyes as he glanced down to place his hands and began strumming a bluesy intro. His demeanor shifted, seeming almost melancholy as he began to sing.

🥹

That song is so perfect for Dieter, it made me really emotional.

He lifted his head, pressing it against mine as he hugged me just a little tighter.   “Thank you for coming. I needed this…needed you.”  

I love that they are so in tune with each other. 

There was no question about it now, I was in love with him. It ran deeper than it ever had with Alec or anyone else. The realization caused my heart to race as the anxiety set in. Was this too fast? Too soon? We’re either of us really ready for this?  

Is it too fast? Probably.  

Is it too soon? More than likely.  

Are they both ready for it? Absolutely!  

“I think I should maybe tell you why I had such a strong reaction to the Alec thing…it’s sort of the root of everything…why I am the way I am…” 

😭

It explains so much. My heart aches for him.  

I love that Evan has been there for him from the beginning though.  

Things were definitely evolving between us, yet again. After the events from earlier in the day, I could tell something had changed. It was like all of the broken pieces of our being were slowly falling back into place and somehow converging into one. With every new piece that found its place, our connection steadily grew. Part of me questioned if it was real or just being overblown and intensified by the circumstances we found ourselves in. I hated to think like that, but it was something to consider.  

Dont over think it Kat. Just let it happen. You both need it, and you need each other. 

He huffed as he mumbled out a gravelly, “Fine.” Then he turned, snuggling Zee instead. “Guess I’ll just cuddle my other cat then.”  

She stood with her hands on her hips as she looked me up and down, “I thought he was done bringing hussies home?” 

I love Cora instantly. No nonsense is precisely what Dieter needs to keep him in line. 

She sighed, “Kat, seriously?” She paused and rubbed at the crease between her brows as she continued, “So there is something to that TMZ article then? Please tell me he at least fucked some sense into you and made ya realize that Alec was a shitty lay?” 

🙌🏻

I feel like Lydia and Cora would get along famously. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. There’s nothing wrong with it, woman. You don’t have to have freshly cooked protein with every meal.” 

You've spoiled her, there's no going back now. She's a queen and will only accept queenly meals. 

Omg he did the foot thing! 

He reached up to brush a stray hair away from my face as he took me in, “You know…I wouldn’t be upset if every night for the rest of my life ended like this…with us together…you make me happier than I ever thought possible.”   He kissed the top of my head, seeming to sense my anxiety, then leaned his cheek against it as he spoke, “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that…I wanna take things at a pace you're OK with. I don’t want you to feel rushed. I mean it when I say you’re important to me and…I don’t wanna fuck this up.” 

Get out of your head Kat. Just let him love you the way you deserve. It will heal you both.  

There was no question about my feelings for her. I knew I was in love, but did the intensity between us mean she felt the same about me?

She does, she'll get to the point where she can tell you, just keep doing what you're doing.

“What do they mean when they say SuccDee? Is that a dirty plant joke? I don’t understand the context.” 

That made me cackle so hard.

This fact was sort of blowing my mind as I peeked over at Zee, the mention of her name rousing her from a deep sleep. “Damn Zee, I wish you could talk. I wanna know what they say…Maybe I should talk to them more?”

Oh, we need to have Kat sneak up on Dieter while he's talking to the plants!

Zee chose that moment to paw a glass that was still about one fourth of the way full of water off the coffee table, which broke our spell and the glass. 

Zee is getting so naughty. I can't decide if she's feeling a bit put out that her parents are paying each other more attention than they are paying her or if she now feels completely comfortable and at home and this is the real Zee, Mischief Maker #1.

She snorted, “My plants are lucky to get water. They come to my house to survive, not live.”  I shook my head and scoffed out a laugh, “That’s just depressing. Don’t tell me that. Imma have to start checking in on them.” 

Hmmm, how long until those plants relocate to Dieter's house?

I hadn't recovered from reading the beach/kitchen scene in the teaser!

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me, “I kind of don’t care. I’m going with it. I’ll head it off and do a cryptic Instagram post. Besides, it might be fun to fuck with Stacia and Joe some. I wanna see their heads explode when they realize their fairytale showmance isn’t happening after all.”

Bahahahahahaha! Stacia will be devastated 🤣

I chuckled, “Ahh, filling up the spank bank then. I’m flattered.” I gave her a cocky grin and waggled my eyebrows, “If you want some nudes all you have to do is ask. I might even let you take them yourself.” 

I posted it. There was no caption, only emojis, “👉👌🤯🤯🤯😏” 

He's such a menace.

As I was finishing up with Zee’s gourmet meal, Kat came into the kitchen. Her brows furrowed as she pointed her finger to something behind me and busted out her best mom voice, “Zee, don’t you dare.” 

Zee is so naughty, she gets that from her daddy.

I gave him my new number, then he sent me a text message so I could save his to my contact list. That was a development I wasn’t expecting, but I was strangely happy about it.

This made me emotional. He's growing his circle and finding friends. I love this for him 🥹

Marc seemed extremely interested in this, leaning forward with excitement in his eyes, “That’s amazing. I was actually considering doing the same. I still haven’t decided if I’m gonna do another season or not…but I did want to look at something like that when I’m finished. Maybe we can team up.” 

That sounds like such an amazing idea. I think it would work well for all involved.

They definitely fucked, at least once.  Nobody pay attention to that vibrating sound… This is how pornos start. I’m not mad about it.  So, IT IS a throuple then?  I think Dieter’s secret lady likes to watch. I don’t blame her…Kat’s ass is a work of art.  I’m still calling it a conspiracy. Kat is the beach chic. I know that ass and those thighs.  

The Dieterina stans are definitely not buying their little ruse.

We need more friendly get-togethers like this, while Dieter and Kat are building their little family at home, they are also building their community.

That song is so perfect for Dieter and Kat, I'm so glad you liked it 😘

Marc was still chuckling as he said, “I’m sure Stacia and Joe are gonna have a lot to say about that.”

Hahahahaha, Stacia going to be trying her damndest to figure what is going on and what she can use for ratings.

I don’t think I paid a lick of attention to anything the judges actually said. All I know is we got another perfect score, putting us in first place - again.

As if they could be anywhere else. It has to be killing Alec that they are doing so well.

I 100% blame Mr. Pascal for his holiday beach antics.

It's like he knew you needed a little something to get you going 😂

Dieter and Kat are getting pretty close. They are completely embedding each other in the other's life. All of Dieter's people know now and Kat's sister knows. Dieter is pouring his heart out and sharing about his past, yet Kat is still in her head about everything. Do we smell drama brewing there?

I feel like at some point Kat is going to have a wobbly moment and try to shut Dieter out, and he's going to have to do his damnedest to coax her out of her spiral.

They've also made some new friends. How are we feeling about Marc and crew? Good or bad?

I love that they are making friends. It's good that they have support against Alec, Stacia and Joe.

Dieter has started his Instagram live shit. More to come on that. Also...his Instagram posts, that man is stirring up all the drama with those. Good or bad idea?

I loved his Live. It could be a good outlet for him, as long as people keep their peace in the comments. He's not going to stand for any disrespect of Kat from anyone.

Closed Position: Week 7 (Paso Doble)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 28.5k (I went off the rails again.)

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter and Kat both being a menace, smut, fluff, angst in the form of discussions about childhood trauma (including homophobic comments)

Chapter Quote: “I actually meant what I said earlier…I’m bending you over the counter and fucking you when we get back to the house.”

Kat’s POV When I awoke on Tuesday morning, my body felt strangely satiated after the previous evening's exploits. My mind, however, was swirling with more thoughts and emotions than I could process. My first thoughts were of the way Dieter had taken care of me in every way possible after the show. He brought me home, made an amazing dinner, and ran a hot bath as he promised. He joined me in the tub, massaging my neck, shoulders, and back as he his lips trailed behind his hands - managing to get me completely relaxed and turned on in the process. He followed that with a scalp massage as he washed the product from my hair before rinsing with the handheld sprayer. I offered to wash his in return since it still had all of the gel in it from the show, but he refused, instead drying me off and sending me to bed while he jumped in the shower. I didn’t even bother to get dressed, choosing to collapse into the fluffy duvet completely naked.

I was lying stretched out on my stomach when Dieter came out of the bathroom and crawled up my body, continuing where he left off as he massaged my thighs and hips for several minutes. He eventually moved upward, peppering kisses along my spine until he reached my neck. I tilted my head to give him better access as he rubbed his patchy beard against my skin. The length of his body pressed against mine, which made it obvious he was aroused. 

His teeth grazed my earlobe, causing me to moan and arch my ass upward into him. He nipped and sucked at my neck as he pressed his hard length against me. My hand found its way to the hair at the top of his head, tugging slightly as I told him I needed him again. He wasted no time, positioning himself at my entrance and slowly sinking in. He covered my body with his, pinning me to the bed as he began his steady, but slow rhythm. After propping himself up on his left elbow, his hand found mine and entwined our fingers together, squeezing it tightly. His right hand roamed my body before finding a home under my chin, tilting my head back so he could give me an upside-down kiss on the lips. 

As things got more intense, I collapsed, face down into the plush bedding as he continued to lavish my neck and shoulder with attention from his mouth. My fingers tangled in his hair again as I turned my head to search for his lips. After a passionate kiss, he pulled away and rested his forehead against the side of my temple. We stayed like that for a time, inhaling each other's breath and getting lost in the sensations that our bodies were creating as we moved as one. 

It was almost foreign to me, how he could make any position feel that intimate. It didn’t matter if we could stare deeply into each other's eyes or not, I could still feel the connection with him. It was there in the way he touched and held me. Our bodies communicated in ways I had never experienced - using all the senses to bond us together. I surmised that it had to be because of the way that we spent our time together, building something that I couldn’t really understand or explain. 

The past week with Dieter had been strangely domesticated. It was full of homemade meals and lots of cuddling. He stuck to his word about keeping this thing between us as something more, not always turning to sex for a connection. He really was putting in the effort to experience all forms of intimacy, always looking out for me and taking care of me in ways that Alec had never even tried. I hated him doing so much, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even when things would get heated between us, he would keep his focus on me and expect nothing in return. Always being perfectly satisfied with a good cuddle and head scratches.

However, after all of our incredibly intimate moments, I still felt like he was holding something back. I could see it in his eyes, often swimming with some sort of emotion. I didn’t want to push him because I knew he would open up eventually. I did sometimes worry that he was hiding something that he thought might upset me. For as connected as we were, it still felt like parts of him were a mystery.

Those thoughts didn’t seem to dampen my need to be near him though. The one night I went home to rest because I wasn’t feeling well was strangely lonely and unsettling. I didn’t get a lot of sleep, having thoughts of Alec sneaking in under the cover of darkness and choking me in my slumber definitely didn’t help. I hadn’t felt that anxious since the incident, now realizing it was because of Dieter. He was keeping those fears away without even trying. They were gone as soon as I reunited with him. When I went to his house the following night, I fell asleep without a worry in the world because he was there with me. 

I did appreciate Dieter’s need to focus on intimacy outside of sex. We managed a whole week without it, but after all the closeness of the week and the fire that blazed between us during our Argentine Tango performance, I couldn’t hold out anymore. I shocked myself when I suggested we fuck in the dressing room. That was one thing I had never done even though Alec tried to initiate it multiple times. I was always too worried about getting caught. It was different with Dieter though. He was slowly waking something up inside of me that I didn’t recognize. The way I craved him had reached a boiling point and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I wanted him in every way he would let me have him. 

I had never really been a fan of rough sex in the past, but as with everything else, it was different with Dieter. There was the connection between us of course, but he was also passionate. He somehow managed to turn it into something else, full of emotion and sensuality. It was a lot to process and to be honest, the sheer aching need that I had for him was scaring the hell out of me. He was quickly becoming an addiction for me. The way he made me feel confident, desired, and cared for was all the things that I had been missing, and it was thrilling. Even as my brain shouted at me to slow things down, my body craved him. After fucking in the dressing room, I still needed more. 

As his body moved against mine, his scent completely engulfed me - making me feel intoxicated by him. My skin was tingling from his affectionate touches, my lips burning from his passionate kisses, and my heart skipping beats from whatever this emotion was that was taking over my very being. His soft sighs and deep groans against my ear sent shivers down my spine and had me coming undone underneath him in no time. He followed soon after, nearly collapsing on top of me before moving to the left, still half draped across my body. 

His hands ghosted over my skin as he placed the occasional kiss on my shoulder, eventually dozing off for the night after flipping the duvet over us. That was how we still found ourselves this morning, his steady exhales blowing against the base of my neck, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. I could feel the weight of Zee laying across my feet, both of them cocooning me in warmth. Everything about it felt so right, yet a little voice in the back of my head still questioned it. It was almost too good to be true. 

Dieter stirred, nuzzling his face further into the crook of my neck as he inhaled deeply and hugged me tighter against him. 

My sleep filled voice greeted him, “Good morning.”

He sighed as he kissed my shoulder, “Morning, beautiful.” 

To Zee’s dismay, I turned over to face him. She grumbled as she got situated again. We both snickered at her before turning our attention back to each other. I could partially make out a crease down the side of his face from laying on the blanket. I smiled as I ran my finger along it. “You sleep well?” I finally asked. 

He smiled and nodded against the pillow, “So good. It’s so much better with you here.” 

I felt my heart flutter as his chocolate eyes danced around my face. I could see that strange look there again, like he wanted to say something but didn’t. 

I cleared my throat, “You ready for another production meeting this morning?”

He rolled his eyes, inhaling deeply before answering. “I don’t see why we have to meet with them every week. Can’t they just send that shit in an email?”

I chuckled, “They could…but then they couldn’t be nosey and try to make drama for the show.”

“Ugh, such bullshit. Why can’t they just let the show be about dancing?”

I gave him a tight smile, “That’s not how they get high ratings.” 

Dieter's phone rang on the nightstand, ruining our morning chat. He sighed, turning to grab the shrilling device and finding his agent’s name flashing across the screen. He pressed ‘answer’ and brought it to his ear, “You should know better than to call me this early in the morning, Lenny.” 

I could hear a deep chuckle on the other end of the line, “Sorry to call you so early, D…but we have a potential issue. There are rumors circulating that there was a serious altercation with you and Kat’s ex last week. Is there any truth to that? Does that have anything to do with the schedule changes?”

Dieter puffed air out of his cheeks as he glanced over at me. He had obviously kept his agent in the dark about that. 

“There was…a minor incident. He attacked Kat and I pulled him off her. They did change our schedules around so that Kat doesn’t have to be near him.” 

“Damnit Dieter…can you please stay out of trouble? You’re on the upswing right now…”

I could tell Dieter was frustrated as his jaw tensed. “Sorry Len, but I’m not gonna stand by while someone close to me gets mistreated. I’m sure the public can understand that.” 

Lenny sighed loudly into the phone, “Fine…you’re right. I’ll get Janine on it and see if she can put out the fire. If you get any questions about it, don’t answer them. Maybe it’ll go away. I’m told there are some pap pics of the guy though…and his face is busted up. So, I’m not sure if it will.” 

Dieter’s brows furrowed, “Is he saying anything about it?”

“No, it’s mostly speculation I think…but they know for sure there have been schedule changes. It’s TMZ, you know how they draw conclusions about shit.” 

Dieter nodded, “Yeah, well…my lips are sealed. I’m confident Janine can handle it as long as that douchebag isn’t running his mouth. I’m sure he doesn’t want people to know about it anyway.”

The call ended soon after that as it was time for us to get ready for our production meeting. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves sitting in front of our two favorite people, Stacia and Joe. They were unusually pleasant, making small talk and checking in with me to make sure I was doing ok, and that Alec hadn’t been out of line since they had apparently had a conversation with him after our last meeting. Stacia, of course, complemented our last performance, making a point to mention how great our chemistry was on the dance floor. She was fishing for anything she could get her hands on, but we gave her nothing. We politely thanked her and redirected our conversation to this week's performance. 

I had to bite back a groan when Joe gave us our dance for the week, the Paso Doble with a traditional Spanish style song called Uccen. It was definitely going to wear me out. I had a feeling Dieter would enjoy it since the dance was more focused on the man’s performance, but I could already envision him whining about how tired he was. 

They handed over the costume sketches, putting us both in all red again, which wasn’t unusual. Black and red were pretty typical looks for this dance.  My costume had a Spanish feel to it with layers of fabric that bunched up in the back. It was shorter in the front and very flowy. It had a halter top with the same flowy fabric draped to cover the necessary areas, leaving the back completely open. They had Dieter in a red suit with a textured button up shirt. After approving the looks, we were pretty much done with the meeting. I was thankful this one was drama free. I did not need my day ruined by them. 

After the meeting, we continued our tradition of grabbing lunch together. We settled on a small cafe nearby. The staff seated us on the outdoor patio, so we made sure to be on our best behavior because there were eyes everywhere. We were even approached by a few fans to take pictures and happily obliged. Dieter was all smiles as he interacted with them, seeming perfectly at ease while I was still trying to get used to having this much attention from strangers. He seemed to sense my anxiousness, smiling gently as he reached over to give my hand a quick squeeze after they left us. 

(More after the graphic.)

We were off to the dance studio for rehearsals after that, beginning the week like we always did, by listening to our song. Dieter’s head bobbed along with the fast-paced Spanish and mediterranean style guitars mixed with folk undertones. It was obvious this would be different from anything we had done thus far. 

Once the music concluded, I clapped my hands together dramatically, “Ok, Bravo. You’re probably about to love and hate this dance.”

His brows furrowed, “Why?”

I huffed out a laugh, “Because it’s dramatic and fun, but it’s also gonna wear your ass out.” 

His brows arched as he gave me a wide-eyed stare, “I mean, you do that already.” 

I rolled my eyes and fought a smile as I stood from where we were seated on the floor, then pulled him up to join me.

“So, the Paso Doble comes from sixteenth century Spain and France. It literally translates to ‘double step’ and it’s very high energy and very…theatrical…meant to imitate a bullfighter and his cape. You would be the matador in this instance…the star of the show. I need you to have strong posture and emote power with your body and facial expressions. I’ll be your cape, with more graceful and fluid movements at times. We’re gonna be doing sort of a marching style rhythm with staccato footwork along with that. Like I said, it’s fun…but tiring.” 

Dieter gave me a tight smile, “Can we look at some videos of this before we get started? I feel like that might help get me going. I have a feeling what I’m envisioning ain’t it.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. At least he was honest. He went into full work mode after that, studying each video I pulled up for him. After an hour of video watching and making notes on some things that stood out to us, we got started on the basics. He picked those up quickly, allowing us to begin planning our choreography. 

As predicted, Dieter was gasping for air and whining about being exhausted before the rehearsal time was over. Not that I could blame him, I was too. And it was only the first day. He was doing amazing though, and I made sure to tell him as much. I knew he would enjoy the theatrics of this dance which helped make up for how much work was involved. 

We basically crashed when we got back to his place. After seven and a half hours of going non-stop, we were spent. We barely had the energy to eat dinner and shower before climbing into bed early, tangling ourselves up together and zonking out for the night. 

We started our Wednesday morning off with Dieter receiving a text from Janine, his publicist. It was a link to a newly posted TMZ article.

I watched as he leaned across the kitchen island and scanned the article. His eyes crossed as he let out an annoyed groan and passed the phone to me. 

(More after the graphic.)

Dieterina Spotted Getting Cozy During Lunch After Alleged On-Set Drama Dancing with the Stars (DWTS) fan favorites Dieter Bravo and Katarina Stamos were spotted having lunch at a LA cafe yesterday. Witnesses say they seemed very cozy and touchy during their meal in between posing for pictures with fans.  This sighting comes after rumors began to circulate about a possible altercation between Dieter and Kat’s ex, professional dancer Alec Balaska, after last week's live show. If you recall, Dieter and Kat set the ballroom ablaze with their sultry performance and intense chemistry during their Argentine Tango, which earned them a perfect score for the week. It’s easy to see how that could have caused tensions to rise backstage. We have no confirmation that Dieter and Kat are officially an item, but they definitely seem to be getting close.  TMZ sources have not confirmed the altercation took place, but we can confirm there have been schedule changes that appear to have happened in an effort to keep Dieter and Kat separated from Alec as much as possible. It must also be noted that Kat did not dance with the same group as Alec during last week’s professional performances, which could help back those claims.  Alec was spotted out and about in LA with his DWTS partner and new love interest, Lana Thompson, earlier this week. He appeared to have bruises on his face but gave no response as to how he got them. His reps refused to comment. We reached out to Dieter’s publicist who also refused to comment on the situation. 

Included with the article were pictures of Dieter and I at the cafe. There were several with his hand resting atop mine as he smiled my way. There were also several zoomed in stills of our Argentine Tango performance along with an embedded video and pictures of Alec and Lana seated in Alec’s car. 

I sighed, “They really will post anything for clicks, won’t they?”

Dieter nodded, “Yep, bullshit…as usual. For all they know, he could have fallen on his face during rehearsal. It’s plausible…I’ve done it enough to know.” 

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. Just as I was about to hand Dieter’s phone back, a text popped up. There was no name, only a number. I felt my stomach drop when I unintentionally read the message. 

646-333-4545: It was nice bumping into you. Call me, so we can get together. I do miss having your mouth on me. 😉

I slid the phone toward him as I tried to control my breathing, “Umm…you have a text.” 

He picked up his phone, brows furrowing in confusion as he read it. “I have no idea who that is…I’ve not bumped into anyone.” 

I watched as he swiped, then selected ‘block’ on the screen.

I didn’t say anything, but my face must have. When he finally looked at me, I could see the worry in his eyes. 

He began shaking his head as he approached me, “I swear I don’t know who that is…maybe that actress from New York? I haven’t bumped into anyone besides her…I didn’t even have the number saved. I-I’ve been getting a lot of texts like this since SNL…people trying to hit me up to party. I’ve blocked them all, you can check. Maybe I just need to get a new number…I deleted everyone I didn’t need to talk to when I got out of rehab. I swear…”

The longer he rambled, the more panicked he sounded. I took a deep centering breath, realizing I needed to give him some leniency. It was obvious he didn’t have the number saved, and that bitch had been pushy. 

He continued, “I’ll get a new number, OK? I was thinking about doing it anyway because I’m pretty sure one of my dealers texted me the other day…I blocked him…just so we’re clear.” 

I gave him a tight smile as I reached to cup his cheek, “Hey, it's OK. I believe you.” 

He visibly relaxed into my touch, “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m doing shady shit, because I’m not. I won’t do that to you.” 

The rational part of my brain finally caught up to my emotions. We've spent ninety-five percent of our time together since we got back from New York. I would have noticed something if he was talking to other people. He was rarely on his phone, and when he was, I was usually at his side looking at it with him as we watched funny videos together.

I pulled him in for a hug, “It’s OK. I have no reason to think you’re lying.”

He backed away, “Imma text Evan right now actually…and have him take care of all that. I want zero doubts.” 

And he did text Evan after that. I never would have asked him to change his number, but the fact that he offered and got right on it did make me feel better. Alec never would have offered. It was another reminder of how completely different they were. 

Dieter made sure to take a few minutes to apologize, cuddling on the couch before I had to leave for the professional's dance rehearsal and him for his weekly therapy session. By the time I walked out the door with promises to meet up with him at the dance studio for our evening rehearsal, the whole incident was an afterthought.    

The professional’s dance rehearsal definitely had a new vibe. I could tell other cast members were looking at me differently - curiosity maybe? I tried not to pay them any attention, allowing Marc to distract me from it when we weren’t receiving instructions. He and Stefanie both had become allies in this whole mess. Given that they knew what actually happened, I had to respect that they were keeping the information quiet while not so subtly choosing a side. Marc had mentioned that people were asking him what he knew, but he refused to comment. He really was a good guy, I hadn’t given him enough credit for that in the past. 

Once we wrapped up rehearsal for the day, I made my way over to grab my water bottle. As I took small sips, I picked up my phone to scroll through the missed notifications. I had a text message from my sister asking why she hadn’t heard from me and telling me to call her. Since I had been spending all of my free time with Dieter, I had pretty much gone radio silent with her. I shot her a quick response, promising to call her the following day since we had a late rehearsal. 

I was silently debating if I should tell my sister about my relationship with Dieter as I moved on to the Instagram notifications. My brows furrowed when I came to the notification that said, ‘bangingbravo1 was live (45 min ago)’.  Well, that’s new. 

I quickly collected my things, telling Marc goodbye as I made my way to the car. After tossing my bag into the back, I sank down into the driver’s seat, pulling my phone out as I closed and locked the doors. My curiosity was making me anxious to see what Dieter was up to since this wasn’t something he normally did. I wasted no time opening Instagram and clicking the notification. He was no longer live, but the video was posted to his story. 

It appeared that he was sitting in the same spot he had been in when he and I played guitars together all those weeks ago. His black acoustic sat perched on his lap as he briefly fiddled with the camera. He then proceeded to strum and tune the instrument for a short time before glancing up and smiling, welcoming his growing number of viewers. He took a few minutes, answering questions that popped up - some about Zee, some about his plants. Someone must have asked about me, causing him to smirk as he explained that I was at dance rehearsal for the professionals, noting that he and I would be rehearsing later in the day. Then he cleared his throat, getting to the reason for going live.

“So…I’ve been getting a lot of messages and comments asking me to do more playing and singing. I hear you…so, we’re gonna give this a try and see how it goes.”

A soft curl fell down over his eyes as he glanced down to place his hands and began strumming a bluesy intro. His demeanor shifted, seeming almost melancholy as he began to sing.

This song has two very different versions and I love both. Give them a listen. 🎶Version 1 🎶 Version 2

When the sins of my father / Weigh down in my soul / And the pain of my mother / Will not let me go / Well, I know there can come fire from the sky / To refine the purest of kings / And even though I know this fire brings me pain / Even so, And just the same

His voice was full of emotion and grit as his unblinking eyes fixed on something just out of frame. He sounded soulful, but there was an edge of pain to the lyrics as they appeared to have deeper meaning to him. I knew him well enough to know that he was feeling the words, seeming to dredge up old memories or feelings. It had me wondering what he had discussed with his therapist that morning, because I knew he didn’t pick that song at random. Music was an outlet for him. It meant something. 

All seed needs the water / Before it grows out of the ground / But it just keeps on getting hard / And the hunger more profound / Well, I know there can come tears from the eyes / But they may as well all be in vain / Even though I know these tears come with pain / Even so, And just the same

His line of sight drifted, appearing to focus on nothing as he took on a far-away look. A deep crease formed between his brows, his eyes turning somewhat glassy as he belted out the next verse. I had never seen him like this, but I knew that look all too well from experience. He was reliving something from his past. Something painful that had potentially shaped him into the man he had become - both the old and new version of himself. 

And let the clouds fill with thunderous applause / And let lightning be the veins / And fill the sky with all that they can drop / When it's time to make a change

As he finished out the song with the last few refrains of the chorus, I realized tears were streaming down my cheeks. Every hair on my body was standing on end as my flesh pebbled from the sound of his voice. I could feel it in my soul. The connection that he and I seemed to share only made me feel it that much deeper. I couldn’t recall anything ever having affected me like this before. 

After the last lyric left his lips, he inhaled deeply to center himself. He sat silently for a beat, then his eyes flicked up to the camera. They were pools of emotion as he gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was obviously reading the flood of comments filling the stream. Then he finally spoke. 

“You all are too kind…it’s more than I probably deserve.” 

He paused, swallowing thickly as he continued to read the comments. He nodded, “I’ll uhh, yeah, I’ll do another live soon…thank you.”

After saying his goodbyes, the stream ended. I had to take a moment to pull myself together. We were supposed to meet at the dance studio for rehearsal in an hour and a half, but I couldn’t wait. Something told me that I needed to go to him. So, I did. 

When I got to his house, I knocked and rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. Figuring he was still upstairs and maybe couldn’t hear it, I tried the doorknob. To my surprise, it was unlocked. So, I let myself in and headed toward his sanctuary. 

I found him with wireless headphones on, slouched back into the chair and lazily strumming the strings on his guitar. He still had that vacant far-away look in his eyes as he stared at nothing. My movement in the doorway must have caught his attention because his eyes snapped toward me as he paused his motions. 

His brows furrowed as he pulled the headphones off, giving a small smile as he asked, “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance studio?”

Moving toward him, I could tell something was off. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I hated it. As I stood in front of him, our gazes met. He sighed, then placed the guitar back on its stand next to the chair and set the headphones on the floor beside it. His eyes met mine as he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“Are you OK?” I finally asked. 

His shoulders slumped as he leaned back in his seat and scratched at his patchy beard, now avoiding my gaze. 

“No. But I’m gettin’ there. One day at a time…”

My feet carried me forward as I reached to run my hands through the top of his messy curls. He sighed as his arms found their way around my waist, pulling me to him so he could rest his head against my chest. I needed to be closer, shifting so that I could raise first the right, then the left leg to straddle his lap. He hugged me tighter as he buried his face into the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. I could feel him relaxing more and more with each breath that he took. 

He lifted his head, pressing it against mine as he hugged me just a little tighter. 

“Thank you for coming. I needed this…needed you.” 

My nose brushed against his, “You have me. Tell me what you need from me.” 

He shook his head, “I…I don’t know.”

My right hand moved to his chest. I could feel his heart thrumming away under my palm as his eyes pooled with tears and his breathing became shallow. He seemed lost. I needed to bring him back and ground him to the present. 

After extracting myself from his embrace, I stood, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. I pulled him into a deep kiss, eventually breaking away to slowly undress him and trail soft touches and kisses along his body. His hands explored every inch of newly exposed skin as I undressed myself next. Once we were bare, I led him to the bed where we both lay down facing each other. He pulled me against him, tangling limbs together as we held each other. His face found its way back to the curve of my neck as he took deep and steady breaths to calm himself. I cradled his head against me, gently running my fingers through his fluffy curls to soothe him. 

We stayed like that for a time. Strangely, it didn’t feel sexual at all. Yet, it had to be one of the most intimate moments I had ever experienced with another person. He was showing me his vulnerability, sharing his pain with me as our bare skin touched from head to toe - allowing ourselves to be connected physically and emotionally without judgement. The intensity of it was scary but also mixed with a strange feeling of relief and security. It was a hard feeling to wrap my head around as I tried to stay present for him. 

Once his breathing settled to normal, he pulled away to meet my gaze with a serene expression. His eyes danced around my face as his hand glided up and down the side of my body. I would give anything to know what was going on in his head at that moment. The way he was looking at me caused the air to crackle around us. It felt like there was something he wanted to say, but instead, he leaned forward and captured my lips with his. It was slow, passionate, and needy. 

We melted into each other, further deepening the connection that I currently felt humming between us. As I moved against him, touching and tasting his skin, I could feel his hardness growing and rubbing against my center. He groaned into my mouth as I began to grind against it, coating his length in my arousal. He wasted no time shifting so that he was between my thighs and sinking in to the hilt as he caged me in between his arms. His hips didn’t move, but he continued to kiss me deeply as I hugged him tightly. 

Several minutes passed before we broke apart. His hips finally began their painfully slow thrusts as we got lost in each other's eyes. This didn’t feel like it was about the sex for him. Maybe it was his way of staying grounded in the present. Or, perhaps it was about strengthening whatever bond was forming between us. Maybe it was even a little bit of both. There were definitely some strong emotions swirling around us as we moved together. It was almost overwhelming, causing my chest to tighten and tears to prickle at the corners of my eyes. 

There was no question about it now, I was in love with him. It ran deeper than it ever had with Alec or anyone else. The realization caused my heart to race as the anxiety set in. Was this too fast? Too soon? We’re either of us really ready for this? 

Dieter seemed to sense the shift in my thoughts, reaching to run his fingertips down the side of my face as he nudged his nose against mine. It helped calm me some but did nothing to dampen the sudden and intense rush of emotions I was feeling for him. 

The languid pace in which he was moving drew out how long this all lasted, but it felt right. We were completely lost in each other, causing the world around us to blur and cease to exist. It was the slowest build to a release that I had ever experienced. When I finally fell over the edge, it was intense and euphoric, seeming to go on forever. I felt like I was floating and the only thing keeping me tethered to this plane was Dieter. He followed behind me soon after, unable to hold it back as my walls contracted around him. He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes clenching shut as he spilled into me with a deep groan that turned to quiet whimpers with the last few thrusts of his hips. 

He sighed heavily against my lips, clearly savoring the high he was riding after his release. I peppered small kisses around his face as I brushed back his sweaty curls. His dark eyes finally opened, meeting mine before capturing my mouth with his. He broke away to catch his breath, both of us still gulping for air as we took each other in. 

He eventually shifted to lay facing me as I turned toward him. His hand slid around my waist to pull me closer. We were nose to nose when he finally spoke, “I think I should maybe tell you why I had such a strong reaction to the Alec thing…it’s sort of the root of everything…why I am the way I am…”

I took a deep breath, “Ok…but I don’t want you to feel like you have to. Only tell me if you want to…and if you’re ready.” 

He nodded, “I want to…I think it’ll help you understand me a little better…and…my therapist thinks I should tell you too.”

I gave him a small smile as I reached to scratch at the scruff on his cheek, continuing to lazily rub in circles as he began to speak. 

“I…didn’t have the best childhood growing up. My dad…he was an asshole. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t abuse my mom, but it got progressively worse over the years. I couldn’t tell you how many times I sat with her or tried to take care of her after he bloodied her up. I remember always feeling helpless when I was younger…I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t.” 

He paused, sighing heavily as he reached for my hand that was still rubbing at his scruff and entwined our fingers to rest on the bed between us. 

“Of course, that was when she still cared about life…about me. At some point she started drinking…which ultimately made things worse with him. It got to the point where she stayed wasted all the time and didn’t really seem to care about anything. By the time I was a teenager, I was pretty much taking care of myself. My dad left me alone for the most part, until I started interfering with their fights…trying to protect her.” 

He swallowed thickly as his eyes turned glassy, “I thought…maybe if I could protect her…that I could get her back…matter to her again. You know what I mean? I just felt so alone…abandoned even…just existing. It only made things worse though. My dad no longer held back from directing his anger at me and it just seemed to push my mom further away.” 

He scoffed as he squeezed my hand a little tighter, “Hell, there were times I think she was happy he was taking it out on someone besides her.”

I could see the pain that realization caused him as a deep crease formed between his brows. He stared, unblinking, at our intertwined hands as he continued. 

“When I was in high school, I joined the drama club. For once, I had several close friends. That’s when I realized my sexual preferences…varied…and I started exploring my preferences within that group. Anyway, there was this one guy I spent a lot of time with. It wasn’t serious, but we had a thing. I guess someone saw us together at the mall and we were obvious about it. Word got back to my dad, and he absolutely lost his shit over it. No son of his was gonna be like that. He called me every slur you can think of while he tried to ‘beat the gayness out of me’. That was one of the times I snapped on him. I got in a few good hits, but he still beat the hell out of me.”

The tears finally spilled down his cheeks. He sniffled a little before he continued. 

“It was pretty bad…and the sad part was…my mom couldn’t bother to care. She didn’t check on me once. After spending a day in bed and feeling like I was dying, I managed to drag myself over to Evan’s house. I lied and told everyone I got mugged. His mom ended up taking me to the ER…I had a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. Of course, all my parents cared about was the astronomical hospital bill.”

It was my turn for tears now. My heart was breaking for him. I squeezed his hand tighter as I gave him a sympathetic look. 

He sighed and finally met my gaze, “It got pretty unbearable after that. I couldn’t stand being at home. My dad was constantly belittling me and saying things that made me feel like I was a dirty abomination. My mom even said she was disappointed in my behavior at one point...I think that’s when I really started to hate myself. I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being loved or happy…I started having some pretty dark thoughts.”

He paused briefly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered what to say next. 

“Eventually…Evan’s mom took me in after she figured out what was going on. She helped me through the emancipation process so they couldn’t have control over me anymore…but the damage was done. I had already started self-medicating with alcohol…and after I got my big break in Hollywood with money to burn, the slow spiral started. Honestly, I’m not even sure how I’m still alive after some of the shit I’ve done.” 

“What made you finally wanna change things?” I asked. 

He shrugged, “After my third overdose, my agent gave me an ultimatum…either get sober or I was done. None of the studios wanted to work with me anymore because I was a liability…and by that point Evan had quit working for me. He was tired of my shit. I was also damn near bankrupt. Everything just sort of converged and blew up on me at once. So, I took that last stint in rehab seriously. I had sort of an epiphany about getting my life together and wanted to learn how to be happy…exercise the demons out of my life. Somehow, I found a way to do it, but it’s still a struggle some days. Sometimes I get triggered and wanna go back to that dark place…but I’m slowly learning how to cope with it. I’ve found new ways to channel that energy into something positive.”

I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety hit me, realizing that the drama with Alec had been a trigger for him. I felt like shit over it. 

“I’m sorry that I involved you with the Alec stuff. I didn’t realize the sort of effect it was having on you.”

He shook his head, “No, it’s ok. I was worried about you more than anything. I didn’t want you to get hurt…or lose yourself to him. I wanted to keep you safe…and the fact that you gave me a chance…trusted me with that…it meant more to me than you realize.”

I sighed, “But when you found us in the dressing room, I could see it. It did something to you beyond being upset about what he did.” 

His brows furrowed, “It was just…the fact that I wanted to inflict pain on him…it scared me a little. I was worried that I was more like my dad than I realized…that a part of me was violent enough to do the things he did…because I really wanted to. Then I was also afraid that I had scared you…that you would think I was no better than Alec. I didn’t want you to think that I could treat you the same way.”

My lips set into a tight line. I was determined to make him see himself as I do. 

“You’re nothing like either of those men. I know this. You’re just fiercely protective of those you care about…If anything, you’re a nurturer. You’re selfless and enjoy caring for others. You’re an amazing person and worthy of everything good that life brings to you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.” 

From the way his face scrunched up, I could tell he was fighting back his emotions. I pulled him against me, allowing him to bury his face against my neck as I hugged him. His arms tightened around me as his shoulders began to shake with his quiet sobs. His sniffles became a little more frequent as he allowed himself to feel whatever it was he was feeling. 

He was right, knowing about his past did help me understand him better. His past self-destructive behavior and difficulty with relationships made so much more sense. The fact that he had shared this with me so willingly showed me that he was trying to break the cycle and connect with me in ways that he never had with anyone else. He was still putting in the work to better himself and be happy. 

I continued to sooth him for a time, until he finally pulled away as he wiped his face with a tentative smile, causing his eyes to crinkle around the edges. Realizing that he was obviously feeling better, I gave him an encouraging smile in return.

“You somehow always seem to know what I need before I do. Thank you for not being afraid to show me,” he finally said. 

I chuckled, “I don’t really know. I just know what I would want under the circumstances.”

He hummed as he nuzzled his nose against mine, “So…naked cuddling and slow, mind-blowing sex? Noted.” 

I laughed. It was nice to see his sense of humor returning. 

“Sooo…were you and Evan a thing at one point?” I asked. I couldn’t help being curious about it. 

Dieter snorted, “Hell no. We were in the drama club together, but he doesn't swing that way. Never has. He likes boobs too much. He was there for the chics.” 

I snickered, “Good to know. I didn’t get those vibes between you two, but I had to ask. I didn’t realize he’d been around for that long.” 

He smiled, “Oh yeah, we go way back. I’m not sure I could trust anyone else to handle my stuff the way he does. He actually looks out for me and has my best interest in mind…calls me on my shit when he needs to. I’ve had other assistants that just wanted to enable my bad behavior so they could party and take advantage of me in some way. I can’t be having that anymore.” 

I couldn’t help wondering about his parents after that. He seemed to notice something was on my mind and asked what I was thinking about. 

“Have you had any contact with your parents since you left?” I asked. 

His lips set into a tight line, “Umm well…my mom pretty much drank herself to death. She died years ago…but my dad…I think he’s still around somewhere. It’s been a while, but I’ll occasionally get a call asking for money. I don’t give him shit. That goes over about like you would expect. He hasn’t changed much. He’s still an asshole.” 

I sighed, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “It is what it is. I can’t change him. I can only change myself and how I respond to him.” 

We soon noticed the time, realizing that we were going to be late for our evening rehearsal. After rushing around, we eventually made it to the studio. I think Dieter was happy for the distraction, quickly settling into our routine and focusing on the performance. He was back to his goofy and smiley self, having fun as we tried out a couple of different options for the choreography. At times we behaved a little less professionally as our bodies moved together with lingering touches and lips brushing against any skin they could get near without being completely obvious to anyone who might be passing by. 

Things were definitely evolving between us, yet again. After the events from earlier in the day, I could tell something had changed. It was like all of the broken pieces of our being were slowly falling back into place and somehow converging into one. With every new piece that found its place, our connection steadily grew. Part of me questioned if it was real or just being overblown and intensified by the circumstances we found ourselves in. I hated to think like that, but it was something to consider. 

After rehearsals, I found myself back at Dieter’s house. It was late, so we settled on something quick for dinner. Dieter made sandwiches that were fancier than anything I had ever put together between two pieces of bread. He was incapable of doing things halfway it seemed. 

We got ready for bed after that, going through our newly established routine. We didn’t even bother changing into sleep clothes, now opting to sleep in nothing instead. I crawled into bed, snuggling in while Dieter shut off the lights and made sure the door was cracked for Zee. He slid under the blankets, reaching to pull me against him and tangle our limbs together. After burying his face in my hair, he sighed in contentment and squeezed me just a little tighter. He was asleep within minutes, and I wasn’t too far behind him. 

When I awoke the next morning, Dieter was still snoring lightly against the back of my shoulder. I could just make out Zee’s paw stretched out across the side of his head and disappearing into his mess of curls as she snoozed behind him. I moved to get up, but Dieter groaned and stiffened his arm that was thrown over my middle. 

I chuckled and whined, “Diiieter, I’ve gotta peeee.”

He huffed as he mumbled out a gravelly, “Fine.” Then he turned, snuggling Zee instead. “Guess I’ll just cuddle my other cat then.” 

I laughed at his ridiculousness, shaking my head as I made my way to the bathroom. Once I was finished, I took the opportunity to swipe another one of Dieter’s t-shirts that said ‘Stay Horny for Art’ in large letters across the front. It had me shaking my head all over again as I slipped it on and walked out into the bedroom. I made my way over to his side of the bed, leaning down to ruffle his hair before giving him a quick kiss. 

“I’m gonna go get breakfast started.”

He grabbed my hand, kissing the top of it before groaning and hiding his face from the sunlight that was beginning to sneak through the curtains. I smiled to myself as I pulled away and made my way downstairs. He was too adorable when he was half asleep and needy. 

I was obviously nowhere as good of a cook as Dieter, so I decided to keep it simple. As I was digging through the pantry for pancake ingredients I heard movement in the kitchen. Assuming it was Dieter, I called out to ask, “Do you know where the…”

My words trailed off as I walked out of the pantry to find a petite woman, most likely in her early fifties, with short dark red hair, and a scowl on her face. I stopped in my tracks, taken off guard by her sudden appearance. 

She stood with her hands on her hips as she looked me up and down, “I thought he was done bringing hussies home?”

I nearly choked on my own spit as I sucked in a breath. I shook my head, “No… I’m not…”

She sighed, “Did he relapse again? I’m gonna kick his ass if he did…then quit.” 

That took me by surprise. I liked her already. Spitfire indeed. 

I held my hands out in surrender, “No…he’s fine. He’s still in bed, asleep. You must be Cora, I presume?”

She seemed taken aback that I knew who she was, her face shifting from frustration to confusion before she nodded.

I gave her what I hoped was a polite smile, “I’m Kat. Dieter’s dance partner…”

I could tell when the realization hit because her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly before she finally spoke, “I’m not sure what to do with this...” 

I chuckled, “It’s ok…I think this is a learning experience for all of us.” 

Dieter chose that moment to come shuffling into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of grey gym shorts and black crocs with Zee at his heels on a mission for breakfast. He came to stand next to me so he could wrap his arm around my waist and give me a quick kiss on the cheek, smiling lazily as he turned toward Cora, “I see you’ve finally met my lady. I hope you weren’t too hard on her…”

Cora’s eyebrows lifted up to her hairline as she studied Dieter. If I had to guess, I could only assume he had never acted this way toward anyone in front of her before. She gave a hesitant smile, “Dieter…you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He pulled me snugly against his chest, “Well…we’re not exactly making it public yet…but Kat and I are together.”

“Together?” she asked. As if she needed confirmation. 

He nodded as he fought a laugh, “Yeah…together. Like…a couple. Dating. Courting. Whatever your generation calls it.”

She gave him an admonishing look, “My generation? I’m not that much older than you, you little shit. You’ll be fifty in no time.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth to hold in the laughter that was threatening to escape. Dieter, on the other hand, cackled over her words. I could already see why he hired her. She was his kind of people. 

Cora rolled her eyes at him before changing the subject back to us. “Well, this makes sense. I knew something was going on with you…you’ve been different lately. I just thought you were slipping back into your old habits and tryin’ ta hide it. I’m happy to see that’s not the case.”

She paused, giving me a mischievous smile before looking back at Dieter. “Looks like you’ve made a good decision for once. I’m not getting floozy, gold digging vibes from this one.”

Dieter chuckled as he turned to look at me with a dimpling smile, “No. She’s definitely not a floozy or a gold digger…she’s perfect.” 

He had that sappy look in his eyes as they danced around my face. His smile widened as my cheeks flushed from his gaze and the words he said so freely. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest as the thoughts of what that feeling meant, bounced around in my head. I refused to acknowledge it by name, but I knew what it was. The fact that I was falling so hard, so fast, had my mind reeling. I had to quickly pivot my train of thought before a spiral started. My attention shifted back to Cora, who was watching us intently, with a toothy smile. 

Dieter invited her to sit for breakfast as he shuffled things around on the top shelf of the pantry to find the pancake ingredients. After refusing to let me help, I joined Cora on a stool at the island to watch Dieter cook. We slipped into an easy conversation, getting to know each other a little better while also teasing Dieter in any way we could. She was quickly becoming one of my new favorite people. It made me happy to know this was who Dieter was choosing to surround himself with now, even if she was hired help. 

Since we didn’t have to be in rehearsal until later in the day, we spent some time lazing about in the pool. Not a minute passed that we weren’t touching each other in some way - be it laying back against his chest as he whispered sweetly in my ear while we lounged in the shallows or wrapped in his arms as he held me tightly and spoke in a low voice against my lips between kisses in the deep water. It never felt sexual. We were content just being wrapped up in each other as we bonded through touch and conversation. It made me realize how serious he was in not making our relationship about sex. 

He opened himself up to me in a way I didn’t think anyone ever had, holding nothing back and giving me every part of himself. There was a lightness to him now, like everything that once weighed him down had been discarded and left in the past. It made me hopeful for him, and for us. His smile and happiness were infectious and warm. He was the sun and my light, teaching me how to find my confidence and love myself again. However, in the back of my mind I still had a worry that I was allowing him to affect me too much, too soon. I knew he had the power to break me in a way that Alec couldn’t, but he had given me more than enough reasons to trust that he wouldn’t. 

After spending a good amount of time in the pool, we decided to relax and read on a chaise lounger. Dieter sat down, then allowed me to sit between his thighs and recline against his chest as I read aloud from the pages of Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol. This eventually shifted into a debate about US government conspiracy theories which had us in fits of giggles as we argued our points for and against each one. We were into a deep conversation about the Roswell crash when my phone rang on the table next to us with an incoming FaceTime call. Dieter reached for it and handed it to me. 

Seeing my sister’s name flash on the screen elicited a sigh from me. “I probably better answer this. She’s been giving me hell because I haven’t called her in a few weeks.” 

Dieter shifted to get up and give me some privacy, but I stopped him, “No. Stay. I might as well tell her what I’ve been up to in my free time…”

He gave me a nervous look as he settled back into the seat. I took a deep breath then hit the ‘answer’ button, careful to keep the camera focused on my face for now as I smiled into it. 

“Lydia, hey…how are you?”

She looked annoyed, “About damn time you answered. Why haven’t you called me?”

I smiled nervously, “Oh you know…I’ve been busy with rehearsals…”

She scoffed, “You’re never this busy with rehearsals…”

I scoffed back, “Well, I typically don’t make it this far into the competition to keep me this busy with rehearsals…” 

She paused for a beat, considering my response. “Fair point. I guess I’ll let it slide…How come you’re not rehearsing now?”

I pushed a stray piece of hair away that was blowing in my face, “Our schedule got moved around a bit. We have an evening rehearsal today.” 

She nodded, “Well…what’s been going on? I haven’t talked to you in weeks. Has Alec been an issue?”

I grimaced and shrugged, “You know…it’s Alec. I’m just avoiding him as much as I can and trying to move on…”

Something in my demeanor must have tipped her off, causing her eyes to narrow slightly. “And how is the moving on going? I feel like you’ve been very…nonchalant about this whole thing…” 

I pursed my lips, “I mean…I was kind of over his shit before the thing with Lana happened. So, it’s like a weight has been lifted, honestly.” 

Her eyes narrowed further, “Where are you right now?” 

I could tell Dieter was holding in laughter, causing me to fight a smile as I replied. “I’m hanging out by the pool at a friend’s house.” 

Dieter was shaking now, burying his face in the back of my hair to muffle his giggles. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip in an attempt to hide my smile as I angled the phone just right to cut him out of frame. 

Lydia’s eyebrow arched. She was not amused with my evasive answers. “How are things going with your dance partner? You’ve hardly said anything about him…”

I couldn’t help smirking at that question, “It’s going good…he’s a good dancer…and we get along.”

Her face told me she was on to my bullshit while her voice feigned ignorance. “Hm, well that’s good. I guess that’s why you have such good chemistry on the dance floor then…” 

I chuckled, “Well, he is an Oscar winning actor. He knows how to play a role well…” 

I could tell Dieter was about to lose what little composure he had over that line. I wasn’t too far behind him. 

Lydia sighed, “Kat…just tell me what the hell is going on. I’m not an idiot…something is up with you. Did something happen with him?”

I scrunched up my nose, “You really wanna know?” 

She sighed, “Kat, seriously?” She paused and rubbed at the crease between her brows as she continued, “So there is something to that TMZ article then? Please tell me he at least fucked some sense into you and made ya realize that Alec was a shitty lay?”

Dieter snorted out a laugh before clapping his hand over his mouth. I grimaced while trying to hold in my own laughter. Lydia’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

I glanced up at Dieter with a questioning look. After getting a nod of approval from him, I stretched my arms out in front of us so that we both fit into the frame. Dieter smiled sheepishly and waved. Lydia gasped out a shocked, “Oh shit!” before accidentally dropping her phone. 

Dieter and I burst into laughter as the blurred images on the screen bounced around before finally focusing back on her shocked face. She sat there staring with her mouth hanging open as she processed what she was seeing. 

Dieter chuckled before finally speaking, “Hi, Lydia! I’m sorry I’ve been keeping your sister from you. I swear it’s not on purpose.” 

Her mouth finally snapped shut, “Wow, OK. So, this is like…happening then?” 

I nodded with a smile, “Yeah, it kind of is…” 

She looked overwhelmed now as she sputtered out, “How?...When?…Does Alec know?…” She paused, then gasped out, “Did you cheat on Alec? Please say yes.” 

Dieter buried his face in my neck as he laughed at her. I shook my head and chuckled, “No. No cheating. It was after I ended things with Alec…in New York. Dieter’s been really supportive with everything and was looking out for me. We had gotten close and…it just sort of…happened.”

I reached up behind me to cup his cheek. He wasted no time lacing his fingers through mine as he turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand and pulled it away to nuzzle his cheek against the side of my head. 

Lydia looked absolutely dumbfounded as she mumbled out, “Holy shit. So, you’re like together, together? This isn’t a fling type thing?” 

I scoffed, “No, you know I’m not into that.”

She laughed, “I KNEW something was going on with him! I could tell from the way you look at him when you’re dancing on the show.”

Dieter and I snickered before I continued, “Well, we’re not going public yet. The producers are trying hard to make this a thing and I refuse to let them. Alec suspects, but I don’t wanna give him any more ammunition to come at us. I just wanna make it through this season with as little drama as possible and be done with it all.” 

She nodded before her expression shifted to one of worry. “So, how has it been going…with you two?” 

The question seemed innocent enough, but her tone told another story. Dieter sighed quietly, then leaned in next to my ear, “I’m gonna go get us something to drink and give you two some time to chat.” 

I felt my stomach drop and hoped that hadn’t upset him as I shifted so that he could get up. He gave me a quick kiss on the top of the head before he disappeared inside. 

My eyes shifted back to the phone, “Did you really have to ask that right now?”

She huffed out a nervous laugh, “What do you mean?”

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, “You know what I mean…you and your disapproving tone.”

She sighed, “It’s not disapproval…it’s concern. You just got out of a very long term engagement with an asshole and immediately got with Dieter Bravo of all people? He has a reputation ya know. I just worry is all.” 

I couldn’t argue with her logic. Those same thoughts had already crossed my mind on more than one occasion.

My brows furrowed, “I completely understand where you’re coming from…I’ve thought about that too. It is fast, but we were building a solid friendship beforehand. It’s not like I just met him last week. And Dieter…he’s not what you would expect…certainly not what I expected. He’s actually very caring and sweet. He’s been working really hard on himself…and he really is a good person. We’ve connected in a way that I’ve never connected with anyone before…”

She puffed air through her cheeks as she rubbed at her temple, “Oh Kat…you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

I sighed, “Yeah, I think I do…I mean, the man is learning to make Greek food for me…and he’s always worried about how I’m feeling after rehearsals. He makes a point to take care of me…cooking, hot baths, massages…Alec always acted like my body aches were such a damn burden. And Dieter…he’s so open about everything…his past, his feelings. He’s the complete opposite of Alec in every way. How could I not have it bad with that?”

Lydia let out a low whistle, “Damn, sis…he almost sounds too good to be true. What about his reputation though? The whoring around and partying? Doesn’t that worry you?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was frustrating, but I understood where she was coming from. 

“He’s been sober for ten months and hasn’t been with anyone else for even longer than that. He’s been taking it seriously…We’ve talked through why he used to do those things and he’s working through it…I-I trust him. He’s not that person any more. He’s already proved that to me in a million different ways.” 

She grimaced slightly, “Are you sure this isn’t another one of your ‘I can fix him’ phases?”

I scoffed, “I should be offended by that…but I kind of deserved it. I-It’s not that. Dieter doesn’t need me to fix him. He was already fixing himself before he met me. He did that part on his own.”

That seemed to alleviate some of her worries, causing her features to relax. “Well, that’s good to hear at least.”

I huffed out a laugh, “Hell, if anything he’s fixing me...”

Lydia snickered, “So he’s good in bed then…” 

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as I fought a smile, “That’s not what I was referring to, but yes…he is. He’s very attentive, skilled…adventurous…and he knows how to read me. No direction needed. It’s…more than just sex with him too…it’s always very intimate…during and after.”

I paused, briefly laughing to myself as I thought about mine and Dieter’s previous conversation we had in this very spot. “When we got back from New York, he invited me over to stay with him…he didn’t wanna have sex that night. He said he didn’t want it to be all about that with us. We didn’t do it again for like a week. He’s all about exploring all forms of intimacy.” 

Lydia’s eyes nearly bulged out her head with that news. “Fuuuck, ok. He just won me over because that’s a major turn on.”

I laughed, “Right? You understand now? And I haven’t even told you about his cat and plants.”

Lydia looked intrigued, however, Dieter chose that moment to emerge from the house carrying two glasses of lemonade. 

I murmured out a quick “I’ll fill you in on that later,” as I turned to smile up at him. I scooted forward so he could take his seat behind me after he set the glasses on the small table beside us. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me tightly against his chest. 

“Alright ladies, what did I miss?” he asked in a playful tone. 

Lydia bit back a laugh, “Kat was just telling me that you’re awesome in the sack.”

I could feel my cheeks flush, “Fucking hell, Lyd. Shut up.” 

Dieter vibrated from laughter behind me, shaking his head as he spoke. “Well, I guess there are worse things she could be saying.” 

We fell into easy conversation after that, somehow dragging Lydia into our prior discussion about conspiracy theories. They were both laughing and already throwing jokes at one another. I could tell she liked him which gave me some comfort. After we hung up, a text message immediately pinged from Lydia.

Lydia: OK. I get it now. Hot. Fucking hilarious. Worships you. I approve. 👏👏👏   

I smiled and showed it to Dieter, who howled with laughter. He was feeling pretty smug, having won the affections of my sister. 

Soon after that, relaxation time was up. We had to get to the studio for a rather exhausting rehearsal. Given that the Paso Doble is a fast paced, Latin style dance, it didn’t take long before we were running on fumes, but the choreography was really beginning to come together by this point in the week. Dieter was having fun with the fact that most of the attention for this dance was on him and allowed him to show a little bit of sass and attitude. He was definitely playing up those attributes, and I was enjoying every second of it. Especially after he declared the room felt like an inferno and peeled his sweaty shirt off over his head.

(Click images to enlarge so you don't miss anything. More after the jump.)

The constant rehearsals were definitely having an effect on his body, toning all the right muscles and slimming him down slightly. He looked amazing and I could tell he was feeling it too. He seemed more confident in himself, which only led to more torture for me. It was obvious he was intentionally flaunting the goods to get me worked up - not that I was complaining. I didn’t mind seeing more skin or watching the muscles in his chest, arms, and back flex as he moved around the dance floor. It was quickly becoming one of my favorite sights. Especially when he added that sexy smirk of his to the mix. 

After rehearsal, Dieter went to pick up takeout for us while I ran home to check on things and resupply on clothes and the essentials before I made my way over to his house. He was just setting Zee’s dinner down on her mat when I walked in. They seemed to be having some sort of standoff over the evening’s meal selection as he placed his hands on his hips and huffed down at her. She sat defiantly staring up at him as her tail flicked back and forth. I rolled my lips together to hold in my laugh as I watched Zee meow loudly, which elicited a heavy sigh from Dieter. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. There’s nothing wrong with it, woman. You don’t have to have freshly cooked protein with every meal.”

She meowed again, then glanced at her plate before shifting her eyes back to his. He rolled his eyes and puffed air out of his cheeks before stalking over to the pantry, then emerged with a pouch of tuna. Clearly losing the battle with his furry little menace. Zee seemed more enthusiastic about her dinner as she watched him spoon a small amount out on top of her food. Finally, a compromise. 

Dieter turned his attention to me with an exasperated look on his face. “I think I have unintentionally created a monster,” he said through a chuckle. 

I walked over toward the island to unpack our dinner as I snickered, “It seems so…but I gotta say, watching you two battle it out has become one of my favorite pastimes. She’s got you wrapped around her little paw.” 

He came to stand behind me, grazing his nose up the side of my neck as he wrapped his arms around me. “What can I say? I live to serve my two ladies. I’m your bitch and I have no shame to say it.” 

I snorted out a laugh as I sank back against him, turning to give him a quick kiss. He pulled away with a smile, “Speaking of…I got you some spanakopita…and after you eat, we’re taking a hot bath. If my body hurts this bad, I know yours has to.” 

I smiled up at him, “Sounds like a plan. I am feeling quite achy this evening.” 

His lips set into a tight line, “I’ll make you some herbal tea. It’ll help. Now…go sit. Get off your feet. I’ll handle all this.” 

The no nonsense look on his face told me there was no arguing. So, I did as he said. He had a plate full of food and a glass of water in front of me within minutes, making sure I was taken care of before he sat down beside me. When we finished, he put everything away while I spent a few minutes cuddling Zee and drinking my fresh cup of herbal tea. He soon disappeared upstairs to run the bath, and I followed several minutes later. 

I found Dieter undressed down to his boxer briefs and leaning over the side of the tub, checking the water temperature and adding some Epsom salt. The sight of him caused my pulse to quicken. When he turned and gave me his sexy little smirk, I thought my heart would explode out of my chest. Without a word, he stood to grab a brush and began to meticulously brush the knots out of my hair caused by today’s rehearsal. Then he twisted it up and secured it with a flat clip. He proceeded to undress me, taking his time to allow his hands and lips to gently explore my body before helping me into the tub. 

Dieter settled in on the opposite end, immediately taking one of my feet into his large hands and began massaging. I relaxed into the water, enjoying the feel of the jets spraying along my body and Dieter’s touch. We sat staring at each other in silence, the air around us electric as we simply existed together. His lips tugged upward as his fingers dipped down to rub at that spot on my foot, causing my thighs to clench. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I narrowed my eyes in his direction. 

The smirk was back now, “What’s the matter Kitten? You need something from me?” 

I further relaxed into the water, “I think you’re the one being naughty right now, Bravo.” 

His brows arched, “Let me show you how naughty I can be. Just lay back and relax. Don’t fight the sensations. Imma show you how nerve endings work.”

I did as he asked, trying to loosen up and just feel as our eyes remained locked in an intense stare. His thumbs got to work, gradually increasing pressure in the spots he knew would get me worked up. I could feel the tingle begin in my foot, eventually shooting up directly to my core. My first instinct was to pull away just because it was an odd sensation. It caused his grip to tighten as he tsked at me, “Relax, Kitten. Don’t fight it. Feel it.” 

He continued the same pressure with his thumb, allowing me a moment to become accustomed to the sensation. I was soon panting under his touch, my thighs tensing as my center sought out more friction. It was as if I was suspended right on the edge, close enough to feel something but never completely falling over. His hooded gaze told me that he was enjoying watching me writhe under his touch at the other end of the tub. I lost track of how long that went on. I was damn near in tears when he gave me that mischievous smirk and finally spoke, “Touch yourself for me…” 

My jaw fell slack as one hand moved down to my massage breast and the other to my center. My fingers got to work rubbing at the sensitive and swollen nub, adding to the sensations I was already feeling from where Dieter continued to rub my foot, now adding even more pressure with his thumbs. Within seconds, I fell over the edge. My body tensing and arching out of the water as a loud moan escaped my lips. I saw stars as the blood rushed behind my ears. It was one of the most intense orgasms I had ever had from basic stimulation. Dieter continued rubbing my foot through it, prolonging the sensations until I finally relaxed into the water.  

When my senses finally returned, my eyes fluttered open to find Dieter’s smug smile. He seemed rather proud of himself. I gave him a lazy smile in return, suggestively running my foot down his chest until it disappeared under the water - going lower to brush against his hardness that was hiding under the surface. His eyes narrowed, “Now who's being naughty?”

I gave him an innocent smile, “Oh no…I’m just returning the favor.” 

I sat up, shifting to join him at the other end of the tub. With my breast pressed against him, I leaned in for a slow and sensual kiss. My left arm moved around his neck allowing my fingers to tangle in his hair as my lips trailed down his jaw to first suck on his ear lobe before moving to the sensitive spot behind it. I resituated myself, my left side leaning against him as my right hand traced a path downward. His lips captured mine until my fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked upward. His jaw fell slack, breaking our kiss as his head dropped backward onto the ledge of the tub. With the arm that was wrapped around me, he reached up to gently rub soothing circles at the base of my neck as I continued to pump his length - occasionally swiping my thumb over the head and squeezing just a little tighter.

I took this opportunity to take in his expressions as his breath quickened. His head lolled back and forth as his brows pinched together. His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he turned and whimpered quietly against my shoulder. I leaned down, grazing my nose against his ear, speaking in a silky soft voice.

“You’ve been so good today…taking care of me in every way. I think it’s only fair that I take care of you too. Don’t you?”

He whimpered, his mouth falling open, allowing his hot pants to blow against the curve of my neck as my hand pumped a little faster. My fingers twisted in his hair, pulling it slightly causing his head to fall back away from me so that I could see his face again. His brows pinched together tighter as his arm tensed around me, his fingers now gripping my shoulder firmly. He was panting out soft whimpers with every exhale, eventually turning into a deep groan as I swiped my thumb over the head for the last time - causing him to cum. He trembled under me, eventually going limp against the tub, sucking in deep breaths through his pouty lips as his brows arched. 

A curl fell down over his forehead as his head leaned toward me. He looked relaxed now and completely blissed out as he sat there with his eyes closed. A lazy grin slid across his lips as his dark eyes finally blinked open to meet my gaze. Without warning he pulled me down, causing me to squeal as he crashed his lips against mine. His hands ghosted up and down my back side while we continued to make out like a couple of teenagers, pulling apart only to stare into each other's eyes. 

He reached up to brush a stray hair away from my face as he took me in, “You know…I wouldn’t be upset if every night for the rest of my life ended like this…with us together…you make me happier than I ever thought possible.” 

His words took me off guard, causing a mix of emotions - excitement because it meant he was thinking long term about our future, but also panic. It was another reminder of how hard and how fast I was falling for him because I now realized I wanted that, more than anything. I was also setting myself up to get hurt badly if this went wrong. I was already in so much deeper with him than I ever was with Alec. I need to get over this. Dieter isn’t Alec. He won’t do what Alec did. 

My eyes searched his, I could tell he meant what he was saying. I felt like he wanted to say more but was holding back. I suddenly felt emotional, the only response I could muster was a small smile before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. I turned, settling back against his chest as his hands rubbed my shoulders. 

He kissed the top of my head, seeming to sense my anxiety, then leaned his cheek against it as he spoke, “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that…I wanna take things at a pace you're OK with. I don’t want you to feel rushed. I mean it when I say you’re important to me and…I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

I grabbed his hand and nuzzled it against the side of my face, “Don’t apologize. I want you to be open with me about your feelings. I do appreciate the grace…just be patient with me. I’m there with you, but I’m feeling a lot of things…I’m still working through a lot of things, most of which have nothing to do with you…just know that.” 

He hugged me against him, brushing the hair back off my face as he told me to relax for a little while. We sat in silence for a time, until Zee came strutting into the bathroom meowing because we weren’t in bed yet. We took that as our cue to start our bedtime routine so as not to upset the queen of the Bravo residence. 

Dieter climbed into bed first that night, raising the blanket for me to crawl in beside him. I was suddenly feeling vulnerable as I snuggled in against his chest. He pulled me snugly against himself as I tangled my leg with his. His scent and warmth surrounded me, calming me and bringing me back to my senses. “Dieter?”

He murmured out a sleepy ‘hm?’ against the top of my hair. 

“I wouldn’t mind having this every night, too.”

I felt him smile as he nuzzled his face further into my hair and hugged me just a little tighter. 

Dieter’s POV This week had been such an emotional roller coaster for me already. Kat and I finally caved after a week of no sex, first in the dressing room at the studio, then again after we got back to my place that same evening. It wasn’t just sex though. Like in New York, it was different - intense. She had me feeling things that I had never felt before, causing my emotions to jump all over the place. It felt like it was never enough and too much all at the same time. I wondered if this was what it felt like to make love to someone. I had always heard people say that, but never really understood it. To me, there was only sex or fucking. Those two things didn’t feel like appropriate descriptors for what Kat and I did though. 

There was no question about my feelings for her. I knew I was in love, but did the intensity between us mean she felt the same about me? I couldn’t help hoping that was the case. Why else would it feel like this with her if she wasn’t reciprocating those feelings? It was something I wanted to bring up with her, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to freak her out and ruin what we were building. Deep down I knew she was more fragile than she let on. I knew this thing with Alec had affected her no matter how hard she tried to hide it. I wanted to make sure I gave her all the time she needed to heal. 

The shit storm brewing around us certainly didn’t help any. I knew there would eventually be some repercussions from the Alec confrontation. The rumors had already begun to swirl and TMZ had gotten a whiff of it. They were sniffing around for any details they could get so they could post about it. 

Then that suggestive text message came through when Kat had my phone. I damn near had a panic attack, worried she would think I was talking to other people behind her back. I knew I should have gotten my number changed as soon as all those random messages started to come in after SNL. It would have saved us both some grief. Thankfully, it appeared as if she believed my explanation. At least I hoped she did, because it was the truth. However, I knew it had to be worrisome to her after the whole Alec thing. I felt like a complete asshole over the incident. I never wanted to do anything to make her worry about those sort of things because I would never do that to her. 

I went from that major fuck up right into my therapy session with Dr. Smith where she made me talk about my parents and how that related to my freak out on Alec. It was something that I did need to talk through. I couldn’t put it off forever because it had been bothering me. Dr. Smith helped me realize that the visceral reaction was more about protecting someone I care deeply for than anything - that I’m not that violent person. My biggest fear is that I would turn into my father or that I was already like him in some way. Deep down I knew I wasn’t, but that worry would always be there because I was so affected by it during my early life. 

When I got back home after that session, I went straight to my sanctuary. I needed to get it out of my system in some way, finally settling for music. When I began to play, I didn’t have any intention to go live on Instagram, but I figured why not? That was what Lenny wanted me to do. I ended up finding it to be strangely cathartic, but I was still feeling down when Kat showed up. Given that Dr. Smith had encouraged me to tell Kat about my past, I felt like it was the last step I needed to take to absolve myself of all the things I was feeling. 

I didn’t even know where to start, but Kat knew exactly what I needed - pulling me into that moment of intimacy and just letting me be while I worked through my emotions. I needed all of her and she willingly let me have as much as I could handle. It felt like something shifted between us yet again, but I didn’t know what. All I knew is that I felt closer to her afterward and completely safe to open up to tell her about my past.  

Our relationship really was progressing quicker than I thought it would. After Kat met Cora, she had essentially met all the important people in my circle. She was becoming engrained in every part of my life, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. Cora loved Kat and approved once she got to spend a little time with her. Kat had even told her sister about me, which I felt like was a big fucking deal. She seemed almost proud to show me off to Lydia, not hesitating to let me join their call after she spilled the beans. It all felt very natural, and I honestly couldn’t believe it was happening. This thing between us was obviously turning into something serious. It was scary, but I welcomed it with open arms. I was ready to have someone, to have my own functional family.

After allowing my mind to run a marathon of thoughts as I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, my attention turned to Kat. She was sleeping soundly beside me. I hated to disturb her, but I really needed to take a piss and get breakfast started. Since it was a late rehearsal day, I wanted to take advantage of our free time and surprise her with an authentic Greek meal. 

Kat groaned as I pulled away from her to get up, causing me to huff out a quiet laugh as I ran my fingertips down the side of her cheek. “Sorry to wake you sweetheart, go back to sleep for a bit. I’m gonna go make you some breakfast.”

She hummed out in agreement, snuggling deeper into the blankets as I tucked them around her. Zee stood from her spot at the end of the bed, moving toward Kat’s head. I narrowed my eyes at her, pointing an accusing finger as I whispered out, “You behave. Don’t be an annoying little shit.”

Kat snickered into the pillow as she lifted the blanket, allowing Zee to cuddle in against her before cocooning them both in the duvet. Seeing my two girls snuggled up in my bed together was really doing something to me, causing my heart to flutter in my chest and making me feel happy in a way I never had been. I really couldn’t ask for anything better than that. 

I threw on a pair of gym shorts and grabbed my fluffy green robe, then headed downstairs to start cooking. I had asked Cora to pick up some ingredients for a traditional Greek breakfast that I wanted to try my hand at making. It seemed simple enough, so I figured I couldn’t fuck it up too badly. 

I got to work, chopping the tomatoes and onions before letting them sauté in a pan - eventually adding lightly beaten eggs and several spices before topping with crumbled feta. I followed that up with fried pork, then made a small batch of what equated to Greek French toast. Kat came shuffling in just as I added the finishing touches of honey and cinnamon to the fried bread. I could hear her sniffing the air as she came up behind me to wrap her arms around my waist. 

“This smells amazing. What did you make?”

After setting the container of cinnamon down, I turned to face her with a smirk, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her against me as I went over the morning menu. 

“Well, we have some fried pork…and forgive me if I butcher the names…but I also made some fetoydia and strapatsada.” 

Her eyes lit up, “No you didn’t?!?!”

I chuckled, “I did. I also had Cora get you some fancy imported Greek coffee and mountain tea too. I’m curious to try those. Which would you like with your breakfast?”

Her mouth hung open for a beat, clearly surprised by my efforts. “I can’t believe you did that for me…I don’t even know what to say.” 

I shrugged, “It’s not a big deal. You know I love to try new things…and you’ve given me a reason to. Now, coffee or tea?”

She sighed in contentment, “Coffee, please.”

I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away to get it started, “Coming right up! Food’s done, so dig in.”

She had a ghost of a smile on her lips as she made her plate which had me feeling all warm and fuzzy.  I would never tire of spoiling her every chance I got. 

Kat seemed to enjoy the meal, moaning in appreciation with every bite. She and I ate way too much to the point we both felt miserable after. Thankfully we had several hours before we had to be in the dance studio, so we could relax and be a little lazy for a while. We spent some time snuggled on the couch - her tucked into my side as Zee stretched out in the crevice between Kat and the back of the sofa. Kat watched as I aimlessly scrolled through the threads of one of my online plant groups, taking the time to respond to questions and complain to her about how so many people gave terrible advice. 

I chuckled as I explained to Kat how I was the dickhead that always incited arguments about plant care and then won them and how I had amassed quite the little following that always directly asked me for advice. I often wondered what they would do if they knew who they were actually talking to. 

After several minutes, Kat piped up to ask, “What do they mean when they say SuccDee? Is that a dirty plant joke? I don’t understand the context.” 

My body shook with laughter as I tried to hold it in. I finally got it together enough to answer her. “My username is ‘Succulent_Daddy_Dee’. They have taken to calling me ‘SuccDee’ for short.”

I could see the moment of realization on her face as her eyes widened. Then she burst into laughter as she buried her face in my chest. She had tears in her eyes as she asked, “And I’m sure you did nothing to encourage that. You’re so bad…” 

I snorted out laughter, “Hey, I wasn’t the one to come up with it. However, I will admit I did nothing to discourage it. Honestly, I spent a good five minutes laughing the first time someone said it. It just stuck and it’s kind of fucking perfect.”

She wiped her eyes, “I’m not sure which version of that name is more entertaining. The multiple meanings of the word succulent take it to a whole other level.” 

I feigned innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. A succulent is a type of plant. I am the father to many succulent plants. Get your mind outta the gutter.”

She broke into another fit of giggles, “You’re so full of shit.” 

I snickered, “Yeah, guilty…but hey, at least I keep it entertaining.”

With the arm she had thrown across my torso, she gave me a little squeeze. “That you do. I can’t complain.”

I continued to scroll, pausing on a post that caught my attention and reading it out loud to Kat.

Here’s a little fun fact for all of my plant enthusiasts. Plants can talk! They emit ultrasonic vibrations of 20–100 kHz. To make this more interesting, cats can hear up to 64 kHz and dogs up to 45 kHz. Does this mean my pets can hear the plants?

I looked down at her, “Fuuck, am I unknowingly driving Zee insane with all my plants? It must be super loud in here to her...”

This fact was sort of blowing my mind as I peeked over at Zee, the mention of her name rousing her from a deep sleep. “Damn Zee, I wish you could talk. I wanna know what they say…Maybe I should talk to them more?”

My attention diverted back to Kat, finding her smiling up at me. “Well, now I know why she sometimes randomly stares at them in that freaky way she does. I wonder if there’s a way we can hear them? Imma have to research this…” 

Kat’s smile widened, and to Zee’s dismay, she shifted so that she could raise up to kiss me and mumble, “You’re so fucking adorable” against my lips. My thoughts for the talking plants were soon forgotten as I discarded my iPad on the floor next to the couch and proceeded to have a heated make out session with my lady. 

We were interrupted minutes later by her phone ringing on the table next to us. Kat seemed intent on ignoring it, continuing to kiss down my jaw and neck as I turned to grab her cell with a chuckle. 

“It’s Marc. You need to take it?”

Her head popped up with a perplexed look on her face, “Yeah…maybe. He rarely calls me.” 

She answered, going through the usual small talk and pleasantries before going quiet to listen to what I assumed was his reason for calling. Her brows pinched together slightly before she gave me a puzzled smile. 

“Marc wants to know if we’re available for dinner with him, his wife, and Stefanie and her partner on Sunday?”

I was surprised by the request, but they had seemed to be more friendly toward us since the Alec incident. I figured it might do us some good to be sociable, so I shrugged. “Why not? Could be fun.”

Kat gave me a brilliant smile before telling Marc we would be there, then listened for a bit longer before asking, “Bring our guitars?”

Her eyes shifted to mine nervously. I reached up to run my fingers through her hair, causing her to relax into my touch. “Yeah…I’ll tell him to. Yep, see you then.” 

After she hung up, her eyes met mine, “It seems they wanna have a jam session after dinner. They all play apparently…”

She didn’t seem excited about that idea. “We don’t have to stay for that if you don’t want to.” 

Her nose scrunched up as she asked, “How do you feel about doing that?”

I shrugged, “I mean, it could be fun. I haven’t done anything like that in forever…but if you don’t want to…” 

Kat sighed, “No…you know what? I’m gonna do it. I need to play again. It’ll be good for me. Besides, you’ll be there with me, so I’ll be fine.” 

Her words caused a warmth to spread through me. I loved that she felt that way, that I could ease her anxieties. She was putting so much trust in me, more than anyone ever had. If only she understood how much that meant. I knew it couldn’t be easy after what she had gone through, which made it mean so much more. I gave her a soft smile before pulling her in for a tender kiss. 

Zee chose that moment to paw a glass that was still about one fourth of the way full of water off the coffee table, which broke our spell and the glass. 

“Zee, what the fuck?” I huffed out in frustration while Kat snorted out a laugh beside me. Zee gave me a defiant look as her tail whipped back and forth. I sighed as we moved to get up. Kat grabbed Zee to keep her safe while I moved to clean up the mess. Zee now seemed happy as a clam as she purred and snuggled against Kat. 

I gave Zee the side eye as I swept up the mess, “There are other less destructive ways to get our attention, young lady. That was not cool.” 

Zee seemed like she could care less as Kat scratched behind her ears and snickered at her complete disregard for my scolding. Once I got everything cleaned up, I decided to do some much needed plant care as Kat gave Zee the attention she was demanding. Zee’s need for affection didn’t last long. Once she had her fill, she simply jumped from Kats arms and made her way over to the top of her cat tree to groom herself. Kat scoffed at her dismissal as she stood, coming to stand next to me as I dusted, pruned, and misted leaves. Her arms snaked around my waist as she rested her chin on my shoulder and watched me work in silence for a few minutes. I could feel her lips brush against my skin as she asked, “Can you teach me how to do this?” 

I don’t know why, but her request had my heart racing. It made me feel giddy that she wanted to learn about my hobby. I glanced down at her with a smirk, “You mean you don’t already do this for your plants?” 

She snorted, “My plants are lucky to get water. They come to my house to survive, not live.” 

I shook my head and scoffed out a laugh, “That’s just depressing. Don’t tell me that. Imma have to start checking in on them.” 

She smiled against my neck, “I would be ok with that.” 

I pulled her around to stand in front of me, now leaning over her shoulder with my arms around her. My hands shifted through the leaves of the plant I was currently working on as I explained when to prune and the process for dusting and misting. She was full of questions as she took over to do it herself. I hugged her backside against me as I supervised, placing the occasional gentle kiss against her jaw and the curve of her neck. Once she got the hang of it, we both worked through all the plants in the room as we chatted and got to know each other better. I honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend my free time, and I found it to be a wonderful and relaxing way to bond with her. 

Before we knew it, it was time for us to head off to rehearsal for the rest of the day. It was another grueling day in the dance studio and also filming day. After seven weeks of this, I could tell it was slowly wearing me down. This dance in particular was taking a lot out of me with it being very high energy. After six hours of it, my tank was running empty and I was beginning to make ridiculous mistakes with my footwork and frame. Kat seemed to be struggling as well. We were both slowing down and couldn’t seem to keep up with the music. At least it made for some interesting footage for the show. We eventually sat on the floor and settled for talking through some parts of it, deciding what still needed to be tweaked or changed and coming up with a game plan for the next two days. That part would probably be less exciting to watch, but we sort of didn’t care.

Once our studio time was up, we headed home. After a quick dinner, we showered together - too tired to do anything aside from getting clean. It wasn’t long before we crashed, falling asleep almost as soon as our heads hit the pillow. When I awoke the next morning to find Zee snuggled up next to me, I couldn’t recall having felt her get in the bed. Neither did Kat. We had obviously been out of it. 

We spent our Saturday morning outdoors with the intent to take it easy until our evening rehearsal time. We started with painting some planter pots on the back patio. I had somehow managed to con Kat into the activity over breakfast. She grumbled at first, citing her lack of artistic capabilities, but that grumbling soon abated when I sat down behind her. I made sure to pull her back to my front as snugly as possible before putting my arms around her waist and using my hands to guide hers, showing her different techniques for painting flowers and trees onto the plain terracotta. After she got the hang of it, I took advantage of my position to lavish her exposed neck with attention from my mouth. 

Once I had her properly worked up, I scooted away with a smirk so that I could paint my own pot. She scoffed, calling me a “fucking tease” as I shot a wink in her direction. My smugness soon faded when she began removing layers of clothing to reveal a lavender bikini that looked absolutely amazing against her golden skin. She was the smug one now as she pretended not to notice my eyes on her. 

I huffed out a laugh as I pulled my t-shirt off over my head, “Fine. Two can play that game, honey.”

She scrunched up her nose in annoyance, then flicked a paintbrush in my direction - causing speckles of paint to splatter all over my face and chest. It only escalated from there. Before it was over with, we were rolling around on top of the drop cloth covered in paint, laughing like a couple of idiots in between making out with each other. 

Once we realized our skin was beginning to stick together from the drying paint, we finally got up and made use of the outdoor shower stall to rinse each other off. Afterward, I jumped into the pool while she sat on the side with her legs swishing in the water, laughing at my antics and taking pictures of me with my phone. 

I eventually swam up to her, wrapping my arms around her legs and resting my head on her lap as she scratched at my dripping scalp. We sat like that for a time in silence, enjoying the sun and just being together. I could get used to this. It was almost addicting having her here by my side in this way, but it was also calming the storm that always swirled in my mind. The self-depreciating and negative thoughts were so far removed from my focus that I felt what I could only describe as normal? Unburdened? Content? I couldn’t really find a word to describe it. I was definitely happy, but there was something more with it. I knew it was because of her, keeping my demons locked away in the shadows where they belonged. 

I raised my head, squinting from the sun as I looked up at her with a smile. “Let's go out to the beach. I haven’t gotten to properly take advantage of it yet.” 

Her brows furrowed, “Is that a good idea?” 

I shrugged, “It’s a private beach…”

She scrunched up her face, “I don’t like getting in the ocean though…I’m not confident in my swimming capabilities.” 

I pouted, “You don’t have to go in very far. Besides, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. How about I just don’t let go of you?” 

She sighed, tilting her head to the side as she slowly gave in to the idea. I gave her a cheesy smile, “I’ll even let you bury me in the sand. You can give me a mermaid tail and boobs.”

She snorted out a laugh, “Fine…fine. I will not be cleaning the sand out of your ass though. That’s on you.” 

I backed away from her with a laugh and pulled myself up on the edge of the pool to get out, “Deal…Just remember you didn’t say anything about cleaning under my balls though.” 

She cackled as I held out my hands to pull her up from the ground, “Come on, let’s go pack a bag with the essentials. I may even have a tiny shovel and a bucket you can use.” 

That pulled another tinkling laugh out of her as she stood. 

I was true to my word, letting Kat bury me to do all manner of ridiculous things - including the mermaid tail and boobs. I helped with the boobs, shaping and cupping them to make sure they were the perfect roundness and size, which had us both in a fit of giggles. 

Afterwards, Kat stretched out on a towel under the oversized beach umbrella to read while I went for a dip in the ocean to try and wash the sand out of all the places it shouldn’t be. She laid on her stomach for a time, which had her voluptuous ass on display. I couldn’t help staring at it in those little bikini bottoms she had on. It was definitely begging to be spanked. After several minutes, she flipped over onto her back, propping herself up on her elbows as she not so subtly adjusted her top. She gave me a smirk and a wink while her boobs bounced around from where she tugged at the scraps of fabric. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it was working. I was already half hard from the visual. The dirty thoughts that followed finished the job and got me the rest of the way there. 

I ambled to the shore, noticing Kat’s gaze on me as I made my way toward her. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched me hungrily. My eyes surveyed the area, not seeing anyone near us and realizing the umbrella blocked the view from nearby houses. I intended to take full advantage of that as I sank to my knees at her feet. I crawled up her body, dripping water and peppering kisses along her heated skin as I went. I paused half way and shook my head like a dog, which elicited a loud squeal from her and laughter from the both of us before I captured her lips with mine. Her hips bucked against my raging hardon, causing me to groan into her mouth.

She hummed against my lips, “Feels like somebody enjoyed the view.”

I smiled, dropping my right hand down between her thighs, slipping a finger underneath the fabric of her bikini bottoms to find her soaking wet for me. “I think somebody else did too.”

She sighed softly as I began to rub between her slick folds, “Not gonna lie…you looked pretty fucking hot coming outta the water like that…better than any porno I’ve ever seen.”

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss along her neck as my fingers worked her over. “Sounds like my Kitten needs a little attention. Are you aching for me, honey?”

Her hands tangled in my hair as she nodded and let out a breathy, “Always.”

She began to grind against my hand as my fingers curled inside of her and my thumb made leisurely swirls around her sensitive bud. My lips found her ear as I spoke in a hushed voice, “Always so ready for me…such a needy girl. I want you to come for me, right here…where anyone could see.”

Her thighs began to tense around my hand as her body arched upward against me. I knew she was close. “You’re being such a dirty girl right now, you know that? Letting me play with you out in the open like this…and I think you kinda like it. You like being my dirty girl?”

I pulled back slightly to look at her even though she had a death grip on my hair. She nodded in response to my question, her brows pinching together and mouth falling open as my thumb increased pressure and speed. She was trembling now, so close.

I kissed along her jaw again, mumbling as I worked my way down the curve of her neck, “I’m gonna bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you senseless as soon as we walk through the door.”

That sent her over the edge, causing her to bury her face against my shoulder to muffle the moans she was trying and failing to hold in. She collapsed against the towel, panting as a lazy smile spread across her face. Her hand slid down from my hair, cupping my cheek as she peered up at me, “The things you do to me…”

I chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’m not done yet…”

She narrowed her eyes at me as I stood and pulled her up from the ground with a smirk. Once she was standing, I didn’t hesitate to lean forward and throw her over my shoulder, giving her ass a good smack before I turned to walk back toward the ocean. She squealed and squirmed, but it didn’t do any good. I had a firm grip as I walked into the water up to my waist before dropping her in. She stood, cursing me as she sputtered out water and wiped at her face. I reached toward her with a smile, snaking my hand around her waist and pulling her into my embrace. She welcomed it, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me gently. 

I pulled her out a little further into the water, so that we could bob with the waves. I felt her grip tighten slightly, but she didn’t stop me. She was trusting that I wouldn’t let her go. She gave me a mischievous smile as she wrapped her legs around me, now rubbing her center against my dick and further stoking the flame that was burning inside of me.

I groaned, “Now who’s being a fucking tease?” 

Her lips moved along my neck, “Want me to take care of that little problem for you?” 

I huffed out a laugh, “No. I actually meant what I said earlier…I’m bending you over the counter and fucking you when we get back to the house.” 

She raised her head to look at me, her lips fighting a smile. I leaned in, brushing my nose against hers as I reached down to grab the globes of her ass, pulling her center tighter against me, “I’m also gonna spank you and make you come again. Maybe twice if you’re good for me.” 

I could feel her thighs clenching against me as her mouth clashed against mine. Our hands explored each other as the kiss deepened, her right one making its way down between us to rub at the bulge in my shorts. 

“Can we go back to the house now? Please? I need you…” she begged. 

My forehead pressed against hers as I whined, “As if I could deny you anything…”

My hand moved to cup her cheek as I leaned back to take her in. She was so fucking beautiful. The sun was glistening off her tanned skin and emphasizing the gold flecks in her amber eyes in a way I had never seen. I felt dumbstruck by it as my heart began to flutter in my chest. She was literally taking my breath away. 

One side of her lips twitched upward, “You OK?” 

I nodded as my thumb stroked her face, “Yeah…I’m just…I wanna remember everything about this moment. I umm…” I love you. 

I was so fucking close to saying it as she smiled up at me, but I was too afraid it would scare her away. It had only been two weeks. It was too soon. 

“I’ve just never umm…” 

My words trailed off as I shook my head to clear it. I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling but I needed to say something. 

“I’ve never experienced something like this with anyone before…felt how I feel in this moment. I can’t exactly put it into words…” 

Her hand dropped to my chest, no doubt feeling my heart pounding against it as her face softened. She leaned in to kiss me sweetly. The moment was ruined a few seconds later by a large wave that nearly knocked us over. She was back to sputtering out water and laughing as I pulled her toward the shore. 

We wasted no time packing up and heading toward the house. I pulled her into the outdoor shower stall, our hands and mouths now exploring each other as we washed away the sand and salt and peeled our suits off. Once we were sufficiently clean, I wrapped her in a towel which she secured around her torso as I grabbed one to put around my waist. 

She was barely through the sliding doors of the house before she dropped the towel and placed her palms on the island, arching her back toward me as she smiled seductively over her shoulder. I moved to stand behind her, gently running my fingertips up the center of her spine as her head dipped forward between her shoulders from the sensation. I felt her shiver as I made several passes up and down. On the last one, my fingertips continued upward, grazing the back of her neck before sinking my fingers into her hair, grabbing hold at the roots before tugging gently. She stood up straighter, melting into me as my left hand ran down the side of her body. I tugged her hair a little harder, angling her head to the side so I could access her neck to place gentle kisses along the length of it. Then, without warning, I smacked her ass. She moaned quietly. Another smack gave me the same result. Her breaths were coming faster now as the anticipation got to her.

My lips moved against her ear, “Tell me what you want, Kitten.” 

Her eyes slid shut as she exhaled, “I want you to have your way with me…any way you want.” 

I groaned against the side of her neck, “You’re gonna make me come saying shit like that.” 

She chuckled, pressing her ass against me just a little more, which resulted in another smack. She smiled this time. 

I tutted at her, “I think you like that…lean forward.” 

She did so as I dropped down to my knees, giving the other cheek a couple of smacks for good measure before landing one right to her center, causing her to flutter around nothing. My hands found her thighs, massaging deeply as they moved upward to her hips. She was dripping wet and practically begging for more when I leaned forward and licked up her folds, causing her to cry out as she gripped the edge of the island until her knuckles turned white. 

I dove into her cunt like a man starved, absolutely devouring her as my hands gripped her hips tightly to keep her from squirming. I had her falling apart within minutes as I sucked and licked at her bundle of nerves, giving the occasional slap to her ass as I worked. When she finally came, I didn’t stop or slow the pace, causing her to come for a second time in quick succession. 

Her legs nearly gave out on the second one. So, I held her around the middle with one arm as I stood. After dropping the towel from my waist, I used my free hand to drag myself through her slick. She moaned quietly each time the head nudged against her over sensitive clit. After notching at her entrance, I sank in slowly. Taking my time so she could feel every inch slide in and out at the perfect angle. 

I pulled her against my chest, one hand sliding around to grip under her chin, angling her face toward mine so I could see her. Her face was sweaty, flushed, and completely blissed out when she met my gaze. It had me feeling the same way I had when we were in the ocean. It felt like home. It felt like peace. I felt complete. 

My forehead fell against hers, “You’re so fucking beautiful…perfect for me…never letting you go.”

I was babbling like a fool and completely losing myself as my other arm held her around the waist. She laced her fingers through mine, gripping my hand tightly as I clung to her. I know I said I would fuck her, but this was so much more than that. I kept the pace slow and languid, our breathing completely synced as we drowned in each other’s gaze. 

I could feel Kat’s abdomen tighten as she quickly came again out of nowhere, squeezing me to the point that I could hardly move. Her jaw went slack, one of her hands flying up to twist into my hair as she let out a loud cry. I was seconds behind her, the feeling and intensity of her orgasm pulling me over the edge with her. My hand released her chin to reach for the counter as I attempted to steady myself, but it was no use.

My legs gave out, causing me to sink down to my knees - pulling Kat with me. I was somehow still pulsing and leaking inside of her as she melted against me.

I panted out a breathy, “Fuck…sorry. I-I…couldn’t stand…anymore. That was…intense.”

She sat on my thighs, both of us slumped against the side of the island as we tried to catch our breath. My arm around her tightened as I leaned in to kiss the side of her cheek. She turned, her lips seeking mine for a heated kiss that had me seeing stars.

When she finally pulled away, my attention was drawn to movement at my left. Kat’s eyes followed my line of sight and found Zee, who was sitting on the floor with her head tilted, her tail twitching from side to side as she looked up at us with concern? Confusion? Curiosity? I wasn’t really sure. Kat and I both burst into laughter, her leaning back into my chest as I hugged her snugly and laughed into her shoulder.

“Is this what it feels like when moms and dads get caught doing the dirty by the kids? Because I feel like that’s what just happened,” I said between chuckles.

Kat snorted out another laugh, “I dunno, but I think she’s kind of into it. She was totally watching.”

I gasped for air, “If that’s the case, she gets that shit from you. You’re the one who likes to watch.”

Kat leaned her head back against me, still laughing as I reached for a towel. I motioned for her to open her legs a bit to put it in place before I pulled out of her with a groan. Between the two of us, we had made an absolute mess of each other. We both shifted, stretching out on the tile because our legs still felt weak. 

I sighed, glancing at the clock on the microwave, “I think we’re gonna be late for rehearsal.” 

She waved a dismissive hand, “I don’t care…whatever that was…was totally worth it.”

We were late for rehearsal. Forty-five minutes late to be specific, but I really didn’t mind. There was more between us after that, somehow feeling more connected than we already were. Maybe it was just because of the intensity of everything. I couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was definitely carried over to our dancing. We were so on top of it, barely making the tiniest of mistakes. I felt newly energized and ready to win that fucking Mirrorball trophy as we went through the routine one last time. 

Since we had a long day planned for Sunday and felt pretty on top of the choreography, we headed home early. There was no way to improve perfection after all. 

Kat and I had just gotten home, and I was making some quick sandwiches for dinner when my cell rang. Lenny’s name flashed on the screen. I looked at the time, it was near 9:30 PM, which was sort of late for him. He tended to go to bed early since he got up before the sun rose most days. Worried something was up, I sucked some mayo off my fingers as I hurried to answer it. 

“Hey Len…”

“What the hell have you been doing?” he barked out before I could even finish my greeting. 

I winced, “What do you mean? I haven’t been doing anything.”

Kat’s wide eyes met mine in concern. I shrugged. 

He sighed, “Who were you with today?”

I was so fucking confused, “I was at dance rehearsal with Kat. That’s the only place I’ve gone. Why?”

I could hear him shuffling papers around on his end of the line, “TMZ just called. They have pictures of you at the beach kissing a woman.”

I grimaced as my eyes shifted back to Kat. Fuck. 

“How the hell did they get those? I was literally in my backyard on a private beach. There was no one else out there today.” 

Lenny huffed, “Then you obviously have an asshole neighbor who wanted a quick buck.”

I sighed, “Fuck.” I switched the phone to speaker so Kat could hear, then I asked “Can you tell who it is in the pictures?”

“They’re asking if it’s Kat. Is it?” 

Kat shrugged, waving her hand to go ahead and tell him the truth. “Can you tell who’s in the pictures?” I asked again. 

He was quiet for a minute, obviously looking at them, “I mean…I can’t. Most of them are blurry. It’s pretty far away. I can definitely tell it’s you, but most of the pictures of the woman are from the back...Is it her?”

I scrunched my eyes shut as I rubbed at the bridge of my nose, “Tell them it’s not her…but yes, it’s her.”

He scoffed, “Fucking hell, Dieter. I thought we were done with this shit? What do you think you’re doing? Are you using again?” 

My fists clenched together. I took a deep breath to calm myself as Kat came to stand next to me, placing a comforting hand on top of mine. 

“No…I’m not fucking using again. It’s not like that Lenny, OK? This is different. We’re like…together. It’s not…not a fuck buddy situation or anything. I care about her.” I puffed air out of my cheeks in frustration, now pacing around the kitchen nervously as Kat watched me in silence. 

“Look, we don’t want anyone to know yet. The producers can’t find out and the less that’s confirmed for Alec, the better. I need you and the team to keep this under wraps.” 

Lenny was unusually quiet now. I didn’t know how to take that. “Len, you still with me?” 

He cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m just…processing. Does your therapist know about this? Is it really a good idea? I thought you weren’t getting involved with your co-stars anymore?” 

I rolled my eyes, “Look, I’m tryin’ not to be pissed about this because I know where you’re coming from. It’s my fault, I earned that…but trust me when I say this is different. And yes, my therapist knows. She’s been supportive of it. She likes Kat.” 

He sighed, “Ok, so how the hell are we supposed to handle this?”

I was still pacing as I talked through it, “Well…nothing we can do about the pictures. Maybe…”

I paused to think through my words before I continued, giving Kat a wide-eyed look as the idea sparked. “Maybe we take advantage of this. We say it’s not Kat…lie…say I’m seeing someone else but wish to protect her privacy. Use it as a misdirection…It might help settle the rumors about us and get the producers, Alec, and the paparazzi off her back some.” 

Lenny chuckled, “You really think your publicist is gonna go for that?” 

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me, “I kind of don’t care. I’m going with it. I’ll head it off and do a cryptic Instagram post. Besides, it might be fun to fuck with Stacia and Joe some. I wanna see their heads explode when they realize their fairytale showmance isn’t happening after all.”

Kat snorted out a laugh over that one. She obviously thought it was funny, but I did want her input before I did anything. 

“Kat, are you good with that? I don’t wanna do anything without your consent.”

She nodded, “It is a funny thought to be honest. I’m cool with it. They’ve been fucking with us this whole time. It’s time to beat them at their own game.” 

I turned back to my phone, “You hear that, Len? This is probably gonna cause a little mayhem, but we’re here for it.” 

He grumbled, “Your publicist is gonna murder both of us.”

I chuckled, “Not my problem…better start making some calls because I’m posting something as soon as we hang up.” 

“Ugh, fine. Ok. This is all on you though.” 

I smiled, “Thanks Len, you’re the best. We’ll talk soon.” 

He grumbled some more then hung up without even saying goodbye. 

I turned to Kat and smiled nervously, “Well, looks like we have a project to do tonight. We need to look through my camera roll…just…don’t judge me for what you find.” 

Her brows furrowed, “Do I even wanna know what that means?”

I shrugged, “I mean…it’s just full of pictures of Zee and plants…and you.” 

Her brows arched, “Oh, really?”

I grimaced as my face heated, “Yeah, I may have saved a few I found online…and I sneak pictures of you frequently.”

She shook her head and laughed, “I can’t wait to see this…”  

As we sat eating our sandwiches, I handed my phone over. Kat scrolled in silence, an occasional smirk on her face before glancing up at me and shaking her head. After several minutes, her phone pinged a few times before she finally slid mine back over to me with a smile. 

“What did you just do?” I asked. 

Her smile widened, “I sent myself some pictures of you and Zee.” 

I leaned toward her, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Maybe I need to check your camera roll…” 

Her eyes widened, “Umm…mine is far more scandalous. I’ve saved some pictures of my own. You’ve done a lot of salacious photoshoots, you know that?” 

I chuckled, “Ahh, filling up the spank bank then. I’m flattered.” I gave her a cocky grin and waggled my eyebrows, “If you want some nudes all you have to do is ask. I might even let you take them yourself.” 

She shot a mischievous look over her glass as she took a sip, “Don’t give me any ideas…” 

I grabbed my phone, snickering as I unlocked it. “So, I think the backlit picture of you and Zee, you painting, lying in bed from behind, and then the one you took of me in the pool kissing your leg will do. I don’t feel like it's obvious that’s you in those pictures. I’ll just do a whole photo dump and keep it vague. Let them speculate away.”

She huffed out a laugh, “You’re about to cause all kinds of chaos with this.” 

I nodded, “Probably. I’ve never posted cutesy pictures of a woman before. It’s definitely making a statement…” 

(More after the graphic.)

The post did indeed cause chaos. Likes and comments began to flood in - most of them asking if it was Kat in the pictures. I responded to exactly one person with, “Did I tag Kat? No.” 

That set off a whole new onslaught of chatter and speculation. Kat egged it on by liking the original post and my comment. I could only imagine how my publicist was handling this. I was sure her head was probably about to explode. 

When I woke up on Sunday morning, Kat was lying against my chest with her leg thrown across mine. She was still asleep, so I reached over to the nightstand to grab my phone without waking her. I was almost afraid to see what awaited me when I opened Instagram. I found more of the same stuff from the previous night. It was officially my most liked and most commented post ever. 

I took a moment, taking in the sight before me. Ehh, we can do better than that. 

As if I wasn’t already causing enough trouble, I took a short video clip of my hand rubbing along Kat’s bare leg. It was obvious we were tangled up in bed, wrapped in nothing but sheets with a nice view of the ocean outside the French doors. I posted it. There was no caption, only emojis, “👉👌🤯🤯🤯😏” 

I threw in a few hashtags too, #PerfectMorning #MindBlown #WouldntChangeAThing

(More after the graphic.)

I was patiently awaiting a call from my publicist after that. She really might murder me over this one. 

I sat with a smug smile as I watched the comments roll in. One in particular caught my attention.

Beasty45: I really hope you’re not screwing Kat over too. She deserves better.

I had to appreciate the sentiment behind it and really hated people thinking that way. So, I hit reply.

BangingBravo1: Wow. Never. She’s my bestie. All is well. 👍👍

It wasn’t a lie. She was my best friend as far as I was concerned. 

I felt Kat stir against me. She groaned, hiding her face against my chest, “What time is it?”

I looked at the time, “You’ve got ten minutes before the alarm goes off.” 

She let out another groan as her eyes blinked open, “What are you doing?”

I snickered and handed her my phone, “Causing more chaos.” 

She squinted at the screen, then rolled her eyes as she handed it back to me with a laugh. “Now everyone knows you had a night of mind-blowing sex. Wonderful.”

“I know. I’m in trouble.” 

As if on cue, a text message popped up from my publicist.

Janine: What the fuck are you doing?!?! Stop it. Now.

I cackled, tilting the phone toward Kat so she could see it, “That’s tame for her. I usually get a call with lots of yelling. Trust me. She’s dealt with worse.”

Kat shook her head, sighing heavily, “Today is gonna be interesting…”

We crawled out of bed soon after that to get ready for the day. We had a morning rehearsal slot, so that was first on our agenda. We had the routine down by this point, so we just focused on cleaning things up and tried not to wear ourselves out too much.

After rehearsal, we had our weekly spray tan. As we were walking into Television City Studios, I realized that I had a missed text from Janine from earlier in the day saying that TMZ had posted the article and pictures, so that was now out there for the world to see.  They had to add an addendum once they realized I had made the social media posts, completely spoiling their 'breaking story'.

(More after the graphic.)

Kat and I were thankful the staff got us in and out quickly for the spray tan because we were definitely getting some looks and whispers. I imagine the confusion was spreading because we were fairly certain the majority of the cast thought we were together. We couldn’t help laughing about it as we left, wondering if Joe and Stacia had heard the news yet. 

Kat ran to her house to check on things and pick up her guitar while I went home to feed Zee her dinner. Zee was in full menace mode as she tried to smack things off the counter while I prepared her food. It seemed to be her new favorite pastime, apparently enjoying getting me in a tizzy. She knew what she was doing, freezing mid shove when I would lock eyes with her. I concluded that she must think it’s some sort of game. A game that was fun for her and a nightmare for me. I ended up shooing her out of the kitchen so I could work in peace.

As I was finishing up with Zee’s gourmet meal, Kat came into the kitchen. Her brows furrowed as she pointed her finger to something behind me and busted out her best mom voice, “Zee, don’t you dare.” 

I turned to see what the hell she was up to now, my eyes landing on her as she shoved a small potted succulent off the window sill. Luckily the pot did not break, but dirt spilled everywhere. 

I sighed, “Why is this a thing all of a sudden?” 

Zee meowed as she jumped down to rub against Kat’s legs and shot me some nasty side eye. Kat snickered as she shooed Zee away so she could clean up the mess. 

“Maybe you’re not preparing her food fast enough. Best get to it, cat daddy.” 

I huffed, “She messes with me, and I’ll go get some of that cheap nasty pellet garbage and she can have that. Little punk…”

Kat laughed at me as I continued to grumble about Zee’s impatience while Zee rubbed up against my legs and yelled at me until I finally set her plate down on the food mat. Zee rushed to her plate and ate with enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes at her as I turned to Kat, “All right, now that the diva is taken care of…you ready to go?” 

Kat nodded, “Yep. Let’s get this sideshow on the road.” 

My hand found its way to her hip and squeezed gently as I leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips, “I should probably be offended by that, but it might actually be an accurate description…of me anyway.” 

She playfully pushed my shoulder and laughed, “At least you’re aware. Let’s go.” 

On the drive to Marc’s house, I could feel a twinge of anxiety forming in the pit of my stomach since I didn’t really know what to expect. From what I knew about Marc, he was a family man and seemed pretty drama free as far as his public persona was concerned. That helped some, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be alcohol or other things floating around. I knew it was something I would have to face eventually, but I wasn’t sure how ready for it I actually was. However, one glance in Kat’s direction suppressed those feelings. I knew she had my back, and I knew I would never do anything to let her down. 

A short time later we pulled into Marc’s driveway and made our way to the front door. He greeted us, making small talk as he led us out to the back patio where he introduced us to his wife Valarie, and Stefanie’s partner, Kira. He was cooking hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill while everyone else sat around and chatted. So, as these things go, I joined him at the grill while Kat joined the ladies. We went into more small talk about the show, rehearsals, how I was feeling about ballroom dancing in general. It was all pretty surface level. Then, he asked me if I wanted a drink as he moved toward a cooler. I was taken off guard and sort of froze up.  

He seemed to sense my hesitation as he opened the lid, giving me a gentle smile, “I’ve got water, a couple different kinds of soda, and if you’re feeling really adventurous…some juice boxes.” 

I visibly relaxed as a smile tugged at my lips, “Water…please.” 

His smile widened as he pulled a bottle out of the ice and handed it to me. He grabbed a juice box for himself, unwrapping the straw and stabbing it into the top with pursed lips. “Sorry, I probably should have worded that differently. I know you're sober.” 

I shook my head and waved it off, “No big deal. Don’t even worry about it.” 

His brows furrowed, eyes shifting up to meet mine as he took a quick pull from the straw before setting the drink down beside the grill. “No, I get it. I’m eight years sober myself. I remember how hard and awkward it was in those early days. People can be weird when you say you don’t drink…or do anything else for that matter.” 

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been lucky enough to not run into that yet. I’ve been keeping to myself a lot…” 

He picked up the tongs to flip the patties on the grill, “So how long has it been for you?”

I screwed the cap off the water and took a swig, “Ten months. Longest I’ve ever been sober since all that shit started.”

He smiled, “That’s good. When you hit a year, we’ll have to do something to celebrate. That’s a big deal.”

I nodded, feeling warmth creeping up my cheeks from the praise. “Yeah, I mean…I think I owe Kat for a lot of it. She’s been so supportive when others haven’t…It makes a lot of difference when you have people in your corner.” 

Marc nodded, “That’s so true. I never would have made it without Val. She held me to it, and I’m so thankful for that.” He paused, turning toward me with raised brows. “You know, if you ever need to talk about it or anything…I don’t mind. Sometimes it helps to talk through things with someone that’s been there. Especially if you’re having a moment…” 

He pulled out his phone, “No pressure, but we can exchange digits that way you have it.” 

I reached to pull my phone out of my pocket, “Yeah…sure. That’s really nice of you actually.” 

I gave him my new number, then he sent me a text message so I could save his to my contact list. That was a development I wasn’t expecting, but I was strangely happy about it. I suddenly felt much better about how the evening was going to go. Kat caught my eye, giving me a questioning look. Something must have shifted about my body language, and she could sense it. I smirked, giving her a quick wink before taking another drink of water. 

My attention shifted back to Marc as he handed me a large platter to hold while he piled the different meats on top of it, announcing the food was ready. We settled into easy conversation as we ate, getting to know one another a little better. Everyone seemed at ease. There was no pressure or awkwardness. It was nice to have normal conversation without all the posturing and cockiness that often came with Hollywood type gatherings. It was exactly what I needed. 

As we all became more comfortable with each other, they got a little braver with their questions. Which led to Stefanie giving Kat and I a deadpan stare before asking, “So what’s really going on with you two? I’m not buying whatever shit TMZ put out today.” 

Kat and I gave each other a nervous glance, I shrugged and held my hand up in surrender toward her indicating I was good with whatever she wanted to say. 

She took a deep breath, smiling nervously as her eyes roamed around the table, “Well…we’re…”

She paused, her brows arching as her eyes found mine again. “I mean yeah…we’re together, but we’re trying to keep it under wraps…for several reasons.”

They were all smiling at us now. Stefanie threw her arms in the air like she had just won something, “I fucking knew it! I knew it. How long?” 

Kat and I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Not long. Just since New York,” I answered.

Stefanie playfully shoved Marc, “I fucking told you. You owe me $100.” 

Marc rolled his eyes, “Fine, I’ll Venmo you.” 

Kat and I both scoffed, laughing over the fact they were making bets. 

Marc pulled out his phone and began tapping away, “Don’t worry guys, we won’t say anything. I know Alec is an issue.”

Kat gave him a tight smile, “Yeah, we figured it best not to provoke him as much as possible. He’s looking for any excuse he can find to make what happened be my fault. There’s also Stacia and Joe with their meddling…I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of thinking they had anything to do with this.” 

Valarie’s brows furrowed, “So what’s with the beach pictures and social media posts then?”

I chuckled, “Well, I apparently have an asshole neighbor that took pictures of us in what is essentially my back yard and sold them to TMZ. They reached out to my team asking if it was Kat, so I told them to deny it. I’m just gonna play it off like I’m seeing someone else…a total misdirection. At minimum, it’ll cause a little chaos and make Stacia and Joe lose their shit. We’ll see how long it lasts.” 

Everyone laughed. Stefanie clapped her hands several times before announcing, “If anyone asks, we’ve all met Dieter’s new woman and she’s amazing. I’m totally backing this chaos.”

Agreements sounded out around the table which had Kat and I leaning into each other and laughing. We relaxed some after that. Now that our secret was out, I felt more comfortable showing affection toward her and her toward me. It was nice not to have to hold back, to be able to reach out and touch her when I wanted to, to put my arm around her or rest my hand on her thigh. At least we now felt like we had a safe space among friends. 

Marc eventually steered the conversation to Kat’s plans after this season ended, which was something she and I hadn’t really discussed. We had been very much in the present up to this point and I was suddenly feeling like an asshole for not asking about it myself. 

Kat’s excitement was clear as she answered, “Well, I’m really hoping to open up my own dance studio…and I would love to offer some classes for things that are a little harder to find around here. I still need to do more market research to see how that would look, but we can always have the normal stuff to fall back on too. I haven’t got to put as much work into yet as I would like, but once the show is over, I’m gonna jump in head first and see what happens.”

Marc seemed extremely interested in this, leaning forward with excitement in his eyes, “That’s amazing. I was actually considering doing the same. I still haven’t decided if I’m gonna do another season or not…but I did want to look at something like that when I’m finished. Maybe we can team up.” 

Everyone began to throw ideas around at that point. It seemed like there was a real possibility something was brewing. I made a mental note to bring it up with Kat again later. I wanted to make sure I was supportive and help in any way I could. I also liked the thought of helping her plan for the future, because I really hoped that I would be welcomed as part of it. 

After we finished up with dinner, we moved to the garage. Marc had converted the space to his “Jam Room”. It was full of various instruments - a piano in one corner while a drum set sat in the other. Several different types of guitars hung on the wall along with some small handheld percussion instruments. Microphones and small speakers sat around the room. It seemed to be a proper setup for making music, which surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to walk into this. 

Kat looked almost giddy as she took in the space, which surprised me. She seemed to be coming out of her shell, which was understandable. They did well to make us feel welcome and relaxed. 

Marc pulled an electric guitar down from the wall while Kira took her place at the drums, making it obvious they had done this before. Marc began to strum a slow sexy tune as Kira joined in with a beat. Stefanie started dancing around the room to the music as Valarie sat down at the piano. My gaze turned to Kat, she looked amused as her eyes met mine. 

I smiled, arching my brows as my head began to sway with the music. She laughed, her cheeks flushing as she watched me move. I took it up a few notches, rolling my torso and hips as I shuffled toward her. I raised my arms, moving them to the beat, biting my bottom lip as I enticed her to join me. I was dancing for her, showing her what else these loose hips can do outside of the ballroom. 

“What’s the matter, honey? Too hot for you?” I asked. 

I could hear everyone else chuckling behind me as I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the center of the room to do a little old fashioned dirty dancing. When the song concluded, I pulled her in for a quick kiss and everyone whooped and whistled, which had her blushing even more. Once everyone settled down, I leaned in next to her ear, “Want me to go get your guitar?” 

She gave me a toothy grin and nodded. After another quick kiss, I made my way outside to the car. I was back with both of our cases within minutes as Marc found a couple more chairs and microphones for us to join the circle. A couple of hours passed by in no time as we took turns choosing songs to play. Those who knew them joined in while the others just vibed. It was honestly the most fun I had in a long time. 

Stefanie asked if she could take some videos to post on social media. We all agreed, figuring it would be good content to promote the show since we were supposed to be doing that anyway. I felt less weird about it since it was a whole group of people from the cast, rather than just Kat and me. I still felt pretty strongly about not taking advantage of our relationship to boost my own career. Deep down I knew that any content of us together would do that, but I did want to have some limits on it. She wasn’t a plaything for me to use as I saw fit. It needed to be on her terms. 

After several minutes passed, Marc suggested that we go live and maybe take some song requests from the chat and answer some fan questions. After some coaxing, we all agreed. As Marc worked to set up the tripod, Stefanie turned to me with a mischievous smile, “Dieter, please try and behave yourself around Kat. I don’t wanna be on TMZ tomorrow for encouraging an affair that will destroy your imaginary girlfriend’s heart.” 

That drew a round of laughter from everyone as I scrunched up my face, “I guess I already have a reputation…I’ll try my best.” 

Once Marc had his phone set up, he mirrored his screen to one of the TV’s hanging on the wall so we could all see the chat, then we went live. Within minutes there were over two thousand viewers. The numbers only climbed from there, with people posting in all caps about Kat and I being there. 

Kat snickered and pointed at the screen, “I guess the Dieterina Stans found us already.”

We waved and said ‘hi’ to everyone. Since it was Marc’s Instagram account, we motioned for him to take over and share what was going on. The song recommendations began to roll in, with Marc and Stefanie taking the lead on the first two. After that, the chat flooded with requests for me and Kat to sing. I deferred to her on that, asking if she wanted to do one. She shrugged, then asked the viewers for some song recs. We laughed over some of the options thrown out as she joked about them not being her style. Suddenly her brows arched as if something caught her attention. A smirk formed on her lips, “Hmm, that one is certainly a mood.”

We all gave her a questioning look. “Which one?” I asked. 

She pulled the lyrics and chords up on her phone and propped it on the stand in front of us. I couldn’t help cackling. It would definitely send a message. 

She turned to everyone else, “You guys know Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation?"

Stefanie bounced up and down, laughing maniacally and clapping her hands. Probably having the same thought that I did. “I do! I’ll do the backup vocals.” 

I swapped out my acoustic for one of Marc’s electric guitars for this one, playing the intro as Kat and Stefanie started in on the ethereal vocables that the song opens with. Kat’s voice took on an almost haunting melancholic tone as she dove into the first verse. The smirk still graced her lips as a knowing look passed between us. This was totally a major ‘fuck you’ to Alec, and I knew I was going to love every second of it. 

🎶Listen to Eyes on Fire Here.

I'll seek you out / Flay you alive / One more word and you won't survive / And I'm not scared / Of your stolen power / I see right through you any hour I won't soothe your pain / I won't ease your strain / You've been waiting in vain / I've got nothing for you to gain

It was hard not to be absolutely mesmerized by her as she worked her way through the lyrics. It was obvious to me that something had finally shifted for her. She had taken back her life and was owning it - putting it out there for the world to see. She had escaped hell and was now controlling the narrative. It was her game to play. I loved seeing her like this, free to be herself and not holding back. It was a beautiful sight. My infatuation with her was probably written all over my face as I strummed the chords to the song, but I didn’t care. She was stunning like this. 

Stefanie continued to sing the background vocals as Kat moved on to the next verse. Her eyes focused on me hungrily, our connection causing the air around us to vibrate. There was just something about us and music. It didn’t matter if we were dancing, playing, or singing. It caused an electricity to buzz around us, linking us together in a metaphysical way.     

I'm taking it slow / Feeding my flame / Shuffling the cards of your game / And just in time / In the right place / Suddenly I will play my ace I won't soothe your pain / I won't ease your strain / You've been waiting in vain / I've got nothing for you to gain

At this point, the song was reaching the crescendo. Kira joined in with the drums and Marc with the bass guitar. I layered my vocals along with Kat’s, the sound even more haunting now as we finished out the final verse. 

Eyes on fire / Your spine is ablaze / Felling any foe with my gaze / And just in time / In the right place / Steadily emerging with grace / Felling any foe with my gaze / Steadily emerging with grace

The chat was going absolutely insane when we finished. I thought I even saw a few “fuck Alec” comments fly by in the chaos of it. 

Stefanie began to clap again, “I think we should start a band. We’re kicking ass here.” 

We all laughed as she turned to me, “Alright Bravo, you’re up. Whatta ya got?” 

I pursed my lips, “I dunno, I’m open to suggestions…” 

We watched the chat flood with comments, there were a few song recommendations but there were even more questions. 

Where’s Bravo’s new lady? Funny how everyone else has their romantic partner there except for Dieter. Dieter is so full of shit. We all know it’s Kat.  Yo Bravo, where’s your beach babe? We wanna meet her! Has Kat met Dieter’s new girl?

I let out a nervous laugh as I glanced at Kat. She winked then gave me a mischievous smile before turning to the camera, “Guys chill. Yes, I’ve met Dieter’s significant other. I know her very well. We’re all friends.”

I chuckled, “Yeah, don’t worry. She’s not being left out…she’s here with me.”

This is the biggest conspiracy since the moon landing.  I’m too high for this shit. What’s even happening? I thought he was gay? This hurts my soul. You two are made for each other! #Dieterina #NotJustFriends Maybe it's a throuple situation. No way they haven’t boned.  Poor Kat, she's like the 7th wheel now. 

I couldn’t help laughing at the comments, “Guys, come on, be nice…back to the song recs please.” 

A song title finally caught my attention. I took a minute to check in with Kira and Marc to see if they were familiar with it before adjusting the mic so that I could stand for this one. I needed to be able to move around a bit. Once I was situated, Marc got us started with the opening guitar riff for The Devil Wears Lace. It was a nice little blues song about desire, temptation, attraction, and obsession. 

Kat, Stefanie, and Val provided entertainment by dancing around us. It was all good fun until Kat’s eyes locked with mine. Her moves became more provocative as she approached me. By the time I hit the chorus she was the only thing I could focus on. 

🎶Listen to The Devil Wears Lace Here.

So light me in flames / Just as hot as you need / Let me see the good girl you wanted to be / All of my praise, only from me  / I can be the one who could set you free / Fall from your grace / Turn up the heat / I feel I'm going down, hands gripping the sheets / Settin' the pace / Number the beast / Got me by the belt, heart skippin' a beat / The devil and me

She moved around me, against me, up and down my body. I played into it of course, wiggling against her as I belted out the lyrics - both of us giving each other mischievous smiles. This was definitely going to get the conspiracy theories going. I couldn’t bother to care because she looked so fucking hot dancing like this. The slow sensual roll of her body was a sight to behold, and it was all mine. I loved to see her let loose and have fun like this. 

When the song ended, she strutted away before bursting into laughter. It was a little infectious, causing me to do the same. The chuckles of everyone else drew my attention to the monitor. The comments had gone completely unhinged by this point.

They definitely fucked, at least once.  Nobody pay attention to that vibrating sound… This is how pornos start. I’m not mad about it.  So, IT IS a throuple then?  I think Dieter’s secret lady likes to watch. I don’t blame her…Kat’s ass is a work of art.  I’m still calling it a conspiracy. Kat is the beach chic. I know that ass and those thighs.  

I huffed out a laugh and shook my head, “Can we not talk about Kat like that please? She’s not a piece of meat.”

Kat snorted out a laugh as she squeezed my arm in thanks. Marc jumped in to try and redirect the conversation, “Alright guys…I think one more and we’re gonna call it a night since we do have a rather long day tomorrow.”

He paused, obviously reading the comments about the show before chuckling, “Oh obviously Stefanie and I are gonna win the trophy.”

I laughed, “Hey now! We’ve gone all night without trash talking. Don’t you start…besides, obviously Kat and I are gonna win. I’m gonna call it though, we’ll be the top two groups. Nobody is beating us.” 

Marc rolled his eyes, “Yeah, don’t try to sweet talk me after insulting me.” 

Stefanie cut in, placing her hands on her hips as she spoke, “Now boys. Let’s play nice or Kat and I will drop you both and claim the win for ourselves.” 

Marc and I both rolled our eyes in response as Val cut in, “Hey, how about we stop bickering and end with that song we did earlier. That was a good one…”

Marc and I both furrowed our brows, waiting for her to continue. She chuckled at our similar expressions before answering, “All on My Mind.”

We nodded as I shouted, “Ok…Kat we’re up.”

Kat and I took our place, sharing a freestanding mic as everyone jumped in with their instruments. I took lead, singing the main verses while Kat joined in on the chorus, alternating the lines. 

🎶 Listen to All on My Mind Here.

I said, "Oh, honey, just like that" / I give you my loving and you give it right back / I said, "Oh, honey, just like this" / Hanging on white knuckle grip

Kat and I sang together for the remainder of the chorus while the rest of the group jumped in on the repeated lines.

It's all on my mind / Feel something when I kiss you good night / It's all on my mind / Feel something when I open my eyes / It's all on my mind / Feel that I could be your sweetest compromise / It's all on my mind / It's all on my mind

Our eyes stayed on each other, big smiles on our lips as we belted out the words in unison. I couldn’t deny that we sounded amazing together. Our voices complemented each other perfectly, especially when we leaned into the bluesy sounds of the music. Hell, truth be told, we all sounded pretty amazing as a group. Nothing could compare to how it felt singing with Kat though. We finished out the last verse together, completely at ease and having fun. 

Well, me and my baby are the bass in the beat / A lo-fi rhythm, the sweat and the heat / Come on now lover, won't you follow my lead / And we'll move on into the night

The energy in the room was high as we finished it out after everyone gave it their all on the chorus refrain. It was probably the best one of the night. The chat was going wild with praise for everyone, but Kat and I were getting most of the attention. 

Can we just get this crew their own show? So much more entertaining. 🙌 Dieter and Kat are amazing together. 😍😍😍 I had no idea Dieter Bravo had this much talent. Kat, marry me. I’m NOT an asshole. 🙏🙏 Both? Both. Yes. 😏 

We all said our goodbyes after that, promising to do another live soon since we had so much fun together. Once Marc disconnected, we all broke into a fit of laughter.

Marc was still chuckling as he said, “I’m sure Stacia and Joe are gonna have a lot to say about that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my publicist will too. I’ve done nothing but cause chaos all day,” I replied. 

Kat came over, snaking her arm around my waist. She fought a smile as she leaned into me, “And, the plot thickens. Apparently, we’re in a throuple with your mystery lady now.”

I shook my head, “Yeah…I’m not even upset about that. I’ve been accused of worse things. I’m not sharing my Kit Kat though…” I paused, reaching down to swat her butt cheek, “This is Bravo’s ass.” 

Her eyes darkened as she attempted to give me an admonishing look, but she failed. She was totally turned on by that. 

My brow arched as she fought a smile. We were completely oblivious to everyone’s amused eyes on us. When we finally turned to look at them, a blush crept up Kat’s cheeks. 

I cleared my throat, “Well, everyone…this was fun. We should do it again.” 

They all nodded with knowing smiles. “We should probably…uhh…head out. We all have a ridiculously early start in the morning and I wanna be well rested so I can kick your ass on the dance floor.” 

Marc and Stefanie both gave me a deadpan stare before flipping the bird, causing me to let out a boisterous laugh. “Ahh, I think I’ve finally found my people.”

Kat and I said our goodbyes, grabbing our guitar cases then heading out the door. The air around us was thick on the drive home. Kat definitely didn’t help the situation with her hand wandering dangerously close to a very much at attention little Bravo. Her eyes cut toward me with a smirk on her lips every time she did it. 

We started pulling each other’s clothes off as soon as we walked through the door. We may not have gone to bed at a decent hour, but we definitely fell asleep happy and satiated. 

Monday mornings meant performance day. We followed our usual routine, arriving at Television City studios extremely early so we could get our camera blocking out of the way first. That went smoothly and we nailed the routine on each run through. We were feeling pretty confident about it as we headed toward wardrobe for our final fitting. 

Kat’s costume for the week really had my attention. There was just something about her in red. It looked amazing against her dark features and golden skin, giving her a sultry edge. This dress was no exception, the way it draped around her body and gathered in the back accentuated her curves in the best way. Her back and shoulders were completely exposed, emphasizing the muscular contours. This was an area that I had never given much attention to on woman, but hers were so fucking sexy. I couldn't help staring as she raised her arms and turned this way and that for Amy to pin bits of fabric for some minor alterations. The image was seared into my brain, I knew it would be the subject of one of my paintings later. 

I ended up ditching the jacket and tie that went with my costume. It felt too constricting for the choreography of this dance. Before it was all said and done, I only wore the red pants and red velvety button up shirt - leaving several buttons open and rolling up the sleeves, at Kat’s request, of course. 

(More after the graphics.)

Hair and makeup were pretty uneventful. We managed to snag our usual ladies, filling our time with banter and jokes as they worked. They gave Kat a sleek up-do this time. I swear she rolled her eyes every time they added a new bobby pin. I sort of didn’t mind it though, because I knew I would be the one to help her take them all out later. She suggested they leave my hair in loose curls this week. To my surprise, they actually did. However, they still put a shit ton of gel and hairspray in it to my dismay. 

We had managed to avoid Alec and Lana the entire morning. We assumed he was hiding out in his dressing room as much as he could. Word seemed to be spreading about what an absolute asshole he was to Kat, and many didn’t take too kindly to it. He was no longer the popular one of the cast and Kat loved every second of it. His ego was definitely taking a hit, which was the one thing that would hurt him the most. 

We could only be lucky for so long. Alec and Lana were already in the staging area when we got there. He didn’t even bother to try and hide the disdain on his still slightly bruised face. Lana kept shooting glances our way with an odd expression. It was almost smug, maybe? I couldn’t quite figure it out. Kat and I made sure to watch ourselves since the backstage cameras were circling like sharks, being sure to keep our interactions friendly between each other. We also made a point to not look Alec and Lana’s way after the initial sizing up. We didn’t want to give the producers anything to work with. 

Kat did the opening performance with Marc and the rest of their group, then rushed to change. I stayed with her the entire time, not chancing leaving her alone while the asshole was in the same building. There would not be another repeat of what happened after New York. 

Alec and Lana were two performances ahead of us, still doing very well and obtaining a high score. They scored 2 points under Marc and Stefanie, which put them in second place for the night. If Kat and I had it our way, they would soon be in third. 

We went through our usual routine of picking a hype song. I took the lead again this week, pulling up one of my favorite rock songs, You Shook Me All Night Long. Kat gave me that little smirk that I loved so damn much as she shook her head and laughed at me. I shrugged before transitioning into some of my goofy dance moves - pursing my lips as I wiggled my hips. She joined in of course, laughing at my ridiculousness through the entirety of it.

Before we knew it, it was our turn. Kat took her place in the center of the dance floor. As the music began to play, I walked toward her seductively, caressing her cheek as I circled her before grazing her nose with mine. After fanning her outward, our fast paced choreography synced with the quick beat of the Spanish style guitars. We commanded the attention of the room with our strong staccato footwork and vivacious presence. It was every bit as dramatic as we had intended it to be. 

I’ll admit, I was nervous about my solo part. Up until this point, I hadn’t really had choreography this challenging without Kat by my side. The quick and precise body movements along with the flamenco style footwork while trying to exude assertive energy really was a lot of work. However, we only had to do it once. I didn’t have to pace myself for hours of rehearsal time, which meant I put everything I had into it. By the time I reunited with Kat to finish out the last part of the routine, I was feeling pretty damn cocky about the whole thing. The cockiness only added to the overall effect and took the performance over the top. 

Kat’s movements were fluid and graceful as she danced around me, waving her flowy skirt. We continued with the stomping footwork, shaping our arms and hands into dramatic poses as we sidestepped each other. The electricity between us was buzzing at max levels as it always did when we performed together. The intensity of her gaze nearly took my breath away the handful of times our eyes connected. We were both in the zone and fucking killing it. We ended with a dramatic lift. I caught her by the hand before she fell back onto the floor for a dip to end it. 

I pulled her upward and wrapped my arms around her as the crowd’s near deafening screams and applause sounded around us. I had to fight the urge to crash my lips against hers at that moment. There was so much adrenaline and passion between us that I could have burst into flames from it. I wanted nothing more than to get her home and work some of it off. 

We went through the whole routine of doing the interview and waiting for our scores. With massive effort, we managed to keep our hands off each other in any inappropriate way. The whole thing was a blur. I don’t think I paid a lick of attention to anything the judges actually said. All I know is we got another perfect score, putting us in first place - again. To our surprise, we were met with more cheers than usual from the cast. Marc and Stefanie were the loudest among them of course. 

Marc and Stefanie invited us out for a celebratory dinner afterwards. I left it up to Kat. She declined, citing how this week had worn her out and she wanted to go home and get some rest before we woke up to do it all over again. They were bummed but understanding. I was a little bummed too, until we walked through the door at my place. 

Kat was definitely not as worn out as she let on, dragging me upstairs to the bedroom, peeling clothes off as we went. After a rather passionate round of sex, I made sure to give her a lot of aftercare that included a massage and hot bath while I made her some dinner. She might not have been feeling it right then with the rush of endorphins we both had surging through our veins, but I knew she would be soon. This week had been rough, and I wanted to see to it that she was properly taken care of so that we were ready to take on whatever week 8 had in store for us. 

✨Fun Fact: The song that Dieter and Kat are dancing to is this chapter is called Uccen, which translate to "The Wolf". Given that Dieter wears that little wolf ring, I found it fitting.

✨Your Paso Doble video for this chapter can be found HERE. Seriously, one of the best performances ever. It won and Emmy! This couple is married in real life and always burn up the dance floor when they perform.

Next: Week 8

A/N: So, this got posted a couple days later than I had planned. It was a doozy to edit and I'm sure I probably missed a lot. I do apologize but work did indeed kick my ass last week. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

We got lots of smutty goodness in this chapter. I 100% blame Mr. Pascal for his holiday beach antics. There was just too much inspiration. Some of it was planned and some of it wasn't. I'm not sorry.

Dieter and Kat are getting pretty close. They are completely embedding each other in the other's life. All of Dieter's people know now and Kat's sister knows. Dieter is pouring his heart out and sharing about his past, yet Kat is still in her head about everything. Do we smell drama brewing there?

They've also made some new friends. How are we feeling about Marc and crew? Good or bad?

Dieter has started his Instagram live shit. More to come on that. Also...his Instagram posts, that man is stirring up all the drama with those. Good or bad idea?

Zee got some love in this chapter. I love me some good Dee and Zee drama. They are both shit heads and we love them for that.

There was so much that went down in this chapter that I can't think of what all to highlight. So, please do show some love with a reblog and sound off about it. I wanna hear all the unhinged thoughts!

Week 8 will bring us the Viennese Waltz, and with that comes LOTS of drama. Y'all might want to have a tissue handy, because the shit is going to hit the fan.

Until next time,

💜Mysty

Chapter Credits: - Giving @avastrasposts credit for the SuccDee name. She saw it when I didn't, even though it was right there. -Major credit to @bitchwitch1981 for song inspo. She turned me onto The Devil Wears Lace and All on My Mind.

Taglist: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot  @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs  @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes  @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing  @runningmom94  @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog  @missladym1981  @guelyury  @weho2kcmo  @alokaerza  

@girlofchaos  @trulybetty  @bitchwitch1981  @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita  @jazzloveslatte  @timpletance  @musings-of-a-rose  @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle  @for-a-longlongtime   @copperhalfcent  @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges  @stevie75  @bunniboo0015  @quicax3  @jackie923

@sherala007  @pastelnap  @angelofsmalldeath-codeine  @jessthebaker  @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites  @senorabond  @annalovesflorida  @sandaltoesocks  @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites

[starryjake]

ever since tate mcraw dropped sports car, the line that goes "you could do it on your own while youre lookin at me" just SCREAMS mutual masterbation with k

k just bleeds sensuality and confidence when in an intimate relationship that just makes you also wanna be as sensual and confident, and what better way to test that then to watch each other get off before k just slams into you whispering you how proud of you he is and that you did so good for him

<3 🎨

🤭🤭🤭🤭delicious.

i agree that he bleeds sensuality and confidence, and therefore he feels completely comfortable and shameless jerking off in front of you. in fact, he likes being watched by you and seeing how you blush just from him stroking his cock.

“you should do it too,” he’d suggest, eyeing the empty spot on the bed. “it’d be fun.”

you remained in your spot, standing a few feet away from the bed. he wanted you to touch yourself? right in front of him? just the thought alone embarrassed you.

yet he wasn’t embarrassed at all. he was moaning carelessly as he sexily dragged his fist up and down his length.

“c’mere,” he urged, sensing your shyness. “don’t be nervous.”

you shakily walked over and sat on the bed with him. he smiled a little at your evident nervousness, finding you cuter than ever.

“take your clothes off for me, baby,” he said. “it’s okay, i’m right here.”

maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly peeled your shirt up and over your head, followed by your pants and underwear, which left you completely bare in front of him.

“now touch your pretty pussy for me,” he commanded. “i know you want to, angel. i can see how wet you are.”

you were positive your face was the brightest shade of red. despite the level of embarrassment you were at, you were also beyond aroused. you needed to touch yourself.

watching k stroke himself, you brought your hand down to your pussy, rubbing your clit and immediately moaning at the relief your fingers provided. k watched you with dark eyes, feeling his cock twitch in his hold.

you couldn’t keep your eyes open after a few minutes, the pleasure too overcoming. k, however, couldn’t blink because he didn’t want to miss a moment of the sight of you touching yourself.

he could tell you were getting close by the way your legs started shaking, your body twitching slightly.

you flinched, your eyes flying open at the feeling of his hands suddenly on your skin. he laid you down onto your back, spread your legs, and slid his cock inside you with ease.

“you did so good for me,” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he thrusted. “you feel amazing. nice and warm for me, hm?”

“please,” you cried out.

he smiled, intertwining your hands together.

“i’ve got you, sweetheart,” he assured. “i’m so proud of you for doing so good. i’ll let you cum for being such a good girl.”

needless to say, you were gushing around his cock in minutes.

[starringmycoffee]

these are the best inputs i could have hoped for from a post where i yapped into the void!! my work week was absolute bonkers so i haven't had the time to comment on it.

thanks also to @zain-syscourse for the comment about "integrated functioning" - i'd never seen that term before.

it is definitely a lot less to talk about. no rapid switching or innerworld drama or anything drastic. i don't find or discover new alters, really. i'm much happier this way, but at the same time, i was just straight up removed from friend groups i'd been part of for a very long time. it really burned my ass for lack of better phrasing. like, why stop being my friend over me Getting Better?

yeah, they were shitty friends. i just didn't know that at the time. so i was like .... hm and then i got shy and quiet. that's not a vent, it's just what happened.

i do really like the term "fluxing" and i'll probably make some sort of personal definition because that's a lot what it feels like. i have one sense of self sort of blended together like 90% of the time, but i can tell a difference when the cirrus part of my brain is dominant versus when it's theo etc. and i don't quite want to do away with that sense of introspection nor do i want to get rid of the fact i do still work with my parts. i check in with them because i'm in tune with them and i can tell when they're uncomfortable or when they have something to say, and i let them say it as themselves. it's useful to be able to pinpoint where my thought patterns are coming from.

the only time i really "break apart" or "unfuse" is when my chronic pain is at its absolute worst, and even then the more i think about it the past few months the more i realize it might just be plain old background dissociation rather than anything like an actual switch.

i'm absolutely intolerant to strong pain meds because they make me very nauseous and itchy, so even though i've been prescribed things like oxycodone since i was small, i refuse to take it when dissociation does almost the same thing but without taking me out of work + making me feel sick. i've done it my whole life and it doesn't hurt me, so (rhetorical question) why give up that tool when it is no longer even close to maladaptive?

anyway, thank y'all again for the input. you're amazing. 💚

i wish i could explain how much i hate the lack of community for recovered DID folks. there's not any community terms for us to describe our experiences really. there's "wishiwashi fusion" from (i think) @system-of-a-feather , and there's... that's it. there's functional multiplicity and resolution and final fusion.

those are our terms. just four little terms to describe a whole vast spectrum of experiences. (at least to my knowledge.)

my alters don't "switch" anymore really, but rather become "more dominant". but that's a mouthful and i'd love something more convenient.

there is no term that i feel connected to, because final fusion implies a sense of being "a singlet" and functional multiplicity doesn't work when my body is disabled and not functional. i don't want to call myself "functional" when that implies "nothing is wrong".

why is it that recovery means i get demonized and excluded?

[supersecretnerd]

Ok so these designs are cute as hell, the Internet is just mean

I have too many thoughts about a game I still need to watch

[lastnightonthecyclone]

Another fucking wip on fnaf because inconsistency is my skill

[computerpeople]

literally everyone in the games: WOAH CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT KID SURVIVED?!

50% of the fandom: ....and then he died and became golden freddy OOOOHHHH I GET ITTTT matpat youre so smart

[norikuna]

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PRISON REALM STAYS IN THE PRISON REALM ! ★ gojo satoru

prologue ⋆ ★ just your luck, getting sealed in the prison realm with the strongest sorcerer of this day and age. well, he's typically the strongest. unless it comes to you.

pairing ⋆ ★ gojo satoru x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, sorta crack 😭 — use of blindfold, incorrect use of jujutsu, óral (f), pànty-fúcking, desperate and FERAL gojo, màting press, brééding, cérvix kissin' and creàmpiés lmfao, óverstim...

word count ⋆ ★ 4.7k! a/n ⋆ ★ gorgeous art by the amazing @baobei-bu 💖 highly recommend checking out their twt 🤭

"are you in the prison realm because ya' got sealed, or did you get sealed because you ended up in the prison realm?"

you grind tired molars together, willing your hands to stay put instead of wrapping around gojo satoru's wretched neck, "the fuck are you talkin' about?"

gojo just clicks his tongue lazily, sprawled out on the unsettling, clattering bones of the prison realm, "jus' musing. it's getting real existential here."

"it's been, what, two hours? and you're already losing it." you wrap your arms tightly around your knees, pulling them to your chest in some effort to combat the cool chill of this...prison. "you realise that this is literally all your fault though, right?"

gojo's eyes flutter open, sky-blue hues that glint with outrage, "what?" he's squawking, undignified, "don't start this again."

"oh, i will," you're jabbing a finger towards him, scowling, "i didn't have any beef with geto. not even after he went off the rails with all that murder shit. didn't do a damn thing to get stuck in here as well."

"oi," a shadow flickers over gojo's face, "whatever that thing is, it's not suguru. y'don't gotta' trust me on much else, but trust me on that."

eyes narrowing, you catch some truth in the sorcerer's defensive tone. whatever. not your circus, not your monkeys. you know better than to pick at gojo satoru's old wounds, "whatever, it's got his face. and you had one job last year when —"

gojo interrupts you with a faux, hacking cough that quickly melts into a groan. throwing his head back as though your tirade is a mere inconvenience, or a tiresome lecture. arms stretching upwards, long limbs unfolding as he arches his back.

phew. a sliver of pale skin peeks out from underneath the dark uniform of his jacket, smooth and taut over slabs of toned muscle, flashing just long enough to derail your thoughts.

"heh. no lookin', pretty," gojo snickers with half-lidded eyes, "what if i'm shy?"

a skull's clattering against the floor as you wrap your hands around rough bone, chucking it at gojo with all the force you can master. he's dodging it effortlessly, ugh. of course.

you don't hate gojo satoru. in fact, it would be a bold-faced lie to claim even a shred of dislike. far from it. your co-worker is...bearable in some circumstances, and it doesn't hurt that he's awfully easy on the eyes.

but nowhere in your grand master plan to bag the strongest sorcerer of the modern age did you imagine being sealed with him. there's a faint worry in the back of your head, wondering just how badly the world is falling apart outside. what, with that geto look-alike still running amok. tokyo? in flames. shibuya? well, you hope it's not rubble.

but it's hard to focus when gojo lounges in front of you, long legs stretched out and muscular thighs spread obnoxiously wide. he's absently tracing patterns on the eerie bones, "wanna' play rock-paper-scissors again?" sounding oddly chipper despite the dire fate of the world teetering on a knife's edge.

"we already did that. and you cheated."

"did not," gojo drawls, blue eyes disappearing to the back of his eyes in mock offense, "yer' just a sore loser."

a beat of silence, and then, "how about i spy?"

you raise a brow, glancing around at your five-star accomadation. the infinite expanse of dull bones and dismembered skulls, "fine. i spy with my little eye...an endless pile of bones. and an overgrown furby sitting right in front of me."

gojo whistles, low as he scrunches up his blindfold, tossing the black silk at you, "touché," head leaning back, groaning, "i'm jus' so bored."

"hah. if you were in here alone, you'd go mad," you mutter, scooching just a bit closer without thinking. this prison realm seems colder than it should be, and it's better to stay close for warmth, right? yeah. right, that's exactly what you tell yourself.

"probably. but it's not like we can crack this stupid place," gojo scowls, "trust me, spent the first hour givin' it my all. wasn't exactly expecting it either."

"yeah, i know," you sigh, avoiding the bright cerulean gaze that's currently resting on you, almost as though it's determined to take in the sight of you, "time doesn't pass in here, right? we're gonna' have to think of something."

the corner of gojo's mouth twitch, candy-pink lines curling up, "time stands still," and then, the man's giving you an odd, focused look that's almost sheepish, "besides, you're in here too, so i can't — y'know."

"you can't what?"

gojo snickers, whistling as he makes a quick, pumping motion over his abdomen, jerking his hand up and down, "you know."

you gape at the white-haired man, the sudden thump-thump of your heart rattling in your chest. it's ringing in your ears, "you're shameless," you mutter, dragging your gaze anywhere but him. the floor, the ceiling of this accursed place, anywhere but the faint amusement painting gojo's face.

"i never skip arm day."

you make a face, a faux-grimace, wondering how on earth you're attracted to this man. a charade and a pretense that you're keeping for yourself, because your neck is burning and heat creeps up your skin like a slow, curling flame. oh, you're a lost cause.

the laughter's melted from gojo's face, and the teasing spark in his eyes has given way to something suddenly more embarrassed, and flushed. expectant even, as there's a dusting of pink suddenly mottled on his cheekbones.

your gaze drops to his lap, mouth going a tad dry at the sudden, thick curve straining against his pants, "oh, y'serious. i mean, really, now? here?"

gojo scrambles backwards suddenly, folding his long legs beneath him like a panicked deer caught in the headlights, "hey. okay, wait! 'm stuck in here w'you and you're always looking so pretty and — don't make that face, hear me out." his ears are tipped with pink, just as obvious as the flush climbing up his neck, "and you're sitting so close, what am i meant to do? 'm only a simple man, sweetheart."

you swallow, as though there's a rough cotton ball caught in your throat, "this is really how you wanna' pass the time? i mean, we got eternity in here."

gojo's lips curl up again, maddening and cocky, as though he already knows the crass scenarios passing through your head, but theres a softer flash of vulnerability in his eyes. his gaze drops to your mouth, darkening with an expression that you've never seen on him before, "who's gonna know?"

your resolve snaps, and with it, all thoughts of the outside world. fuck it.

you're clambering forward, a sudden urge of want pushing you into his wide lap. not even giving him a chance to jest, and tease, or to say one more insufferable thing. your hands balance on gojo's broad shoulders for balance, pressing your mouth to his.

it's firm and certain, tasting the heat of his surprise and the faintest laugh that dies between you. you can taste something else as well, like cool and sweet mint. and blood, still hot and rearing from earlier fights.

gojo makes a muffled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a heady groan, and his hands suddenly come alive, rough palms sliding around your waist, pulling you so much closer. like he's holding a dream that might still disappear.

"heh, someone's just as needy," gojo murmurs, teeth grazing against the hot shell of your ear. the large expanse of his palm grazes at your chest, and a moan falls from your lips, arching your back into his touch, "s-shut up. i wasn't the one who h-had their legs spread, waiting for someone to climb on."

your groan leads gojo to make a sound like he's been wounded, desperate and tight against your skin. glossy mouth pressing at the curve of your throat, as fangs nip into the thin skin. leaving marks, this you know. cool hands slide under the hem of your own uniform, brushing gently over bare skin as his lips continue to chase your own.

sucking, and nipping at wherever his teeth can find, gojo's tugging at your top, pulling it off so you have little choice but to curl into him from the cold. chilled air hitting your bare skin, as he laughs, "aw, cold got to ya', eh? 's not to worry, i'll keep you nice and warm."

blue eyes that glow practically trained on the soft swell of your chest, reverent as though he had all the time in the world to take you in. which, at this point, gojo did. slicked lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cupped chest, white strands of hair falling over his face as he buries himself in, "i can take this off, right?" voice raspier, like rock against stone, in a lower register than you've ever heard it.

"wan' you too," you rock your hips sharper this time, more insistent, agains the hard bulge straining against his pants, "no-one's gonna' see, right?"

gojo's fingers deftly unclasp the hook, "hah, if they do, i'd rip their eyes out, can't have anyone else lookin' at m'girl like that," the strongest sorcerer in the world's gently peeling the fabric away. leaning in to kiss you again as though he's entirely drunk on the taste of you, and only you.

pale lips curling around your pert bud, hands softly pawing at your breasts as you gasp, and writhe, suddenly far more sensitive with each second that passes of gojo's attentive ministrations, "s-satoru, 'm feeling so —"

"so, what?" gojo grins, sucking a violet bruise right over your breasts, white lashes fluttering up to look at you, "yer' looking just as ruined as me, pretty."

"take them off," it's more of an order on your end, but gojo complies and he seems to know exactly what you want, exactly what you're talking about, as his hands dip to the waistband of your pants, long fingers pushing over your hips to centre themselves right where you're getting desperate for him.

"i've got ya', just carefully, yeah, lean back," he's flipping the two of you over, so he's leaning over you now, gently resting you on your discarded jacket, "heh, 'm just gonna' — yeah, there we go," hands pulling at your pants until he's tugged them off you, and gojo's eyes are wide at the sight of your drenched panties.

if you thought gojo satoru looked needy and whiny before, nothing prepares you for the sight of him gnawing at his glossy lower lip, eyes aglow as he seems to shudder, "wan' me to put the blindfold on ya', sweetheart? think we could have a lotta' fun like that, only if that's what y'want."

you eye the black silk that he discarded and tossed at you, not so long ago, pawing and reaching for it as gojo chuckles, "ohh, atta' girl, y'not gonna' need to do anything, but just lay back and use ya' words."

the snowy-haired man's surprisingly soft with it, pressing a tender kiss to your waiting lips, as he loops the fold over your eyes, obscuring your vision, "gojo's right here for ya', just relax."

you can hear the sharp hitch rock his breath, his hand mildly pressed onto your thighs as he gently nudges your thighs apart, and you can feel the chill of the air sting at your hot, sopping folds.

"s-so pretty," the strongest is slurring his words, "yer' practically dripping onto my hand and i've barely touched her. barely even gotten a good, fuck, a good taste."

"i know we're meant'ta be getting outta' this place," gojo murmurs, breath hot against your slicked panties, "but i really would lose my mind if i didn't get to do this first."

'this' being gojo pressing a quick kiss to the soaked fabric, and you can feel him smile against your thigh as you whine at the sensation, with each movement being so much more electric and heightened with the blindfold covering your vision.

"heyyy," gojo mutters, feeling at your thighs clench and kick, "no need to get antsy, 'm right here." tongue ghosting and teasing at your cunt again, "pretty thing, isn't she?"

rrrrrrip!

the way gojo's been pawing at you, you should have guessed that he was forgetting that the prison realm did not have an unlimited supply of undergarments, and that damp and muffled screech all but confirms it. he's torn your panties off, and you can't see where he's got them now.

but you can guess. for you can hear laboured breathing, and whiny praises falling from gojo's lips, and the sound of a buckle being undone. gojo's leaning back up to kiss you now, to nip and suckle at your lower lip while his hand tugs continuously at something. you can't see it, but you can feel the heavy, fat tip prod at your thighs. the sound of damp fabric being slapped against skin, plap over and over again.

"hahh, i don't think ya' know jus' how much i've wanted this, pretty," gojo breathes into your mouth, the other hand coming up to curl at the nape of your neck, loving even, "can ya' spread 'em a bit wider for me? that's it, just let me through."

he's now slotted between your thighs, large palms spreading you open as you can feel your panties still looped and dangling around his wrist, like the most lewd, keepsake cuff.

"satoru, wan' you to just — oh! oh, fuck!"

gojo's already dived right in, as though you were his last meal, swiping a tongue in quick stripes over your drooling cunt. starting near your glistening entrance, slowly climbing his way to the top where he presses gentle nips at your clit.

every single legible thought in your mind turns to a glorious mush, a senseless babble quickly falling from your lips as your hands shoot out, desperate for something to hold onto. finding the nape of gojo's neck, and curling your fingers into his pale hair as he licks at your soaked heat.

thick fingers are bruising at your hips, hooked and deeply pressed into your flesh, all the while gojo's practically making out with your cunt, primal and nasty. it's messy, absurdly so, and you can feel hot thwacks! of slick flying out against your thighs. you can only imagine how it's painting gojo's face, rendering him pussydrunk and so glossy and pretty.

"sweetheart, you're so sweet, ya' know that, right? so fuckin' sweet, heh, i mean, you don't even know how i've been dreaming of this, but now that you're here," gojo thumbs at your cunt, pushing slick-tacked folds apart to view his handiwork, "all spread so pretty for me, who woulda' thought?"

"m-more, please," you're practically mewling, jolting at the sensation of each sticky kiss that gojo plants on you, "more, fuck."

you can hear the crude smile in gojo's tone as he spits a thick glob onto your cunt, "what's the magic word, pretty?"

you don't even care to think, to pull a coherent sentence or plea from your mouth as he picks up the pace, "i d-don't know, satoru! but, god, fuck, fuck, please 'toru, i jus' —"

his grip on your hips tightens, "what?" a cutting, sharp sound as though he's been struck dumb, "what'd ya' just say, sweetheart?"

you don't even know how to form syllables now, such is the effect of gojo munching at your slick heat, "wanted more? huh, 'toru?" grinding your cunt against his face, rocking your hips sharply so you can feel the beakish point of his nose brush against your clit.

"toru, ya' called me," and you can hear the desperation and want painting gojo's words, drawing his voice out into a whine, "never thought hearing that from your lips would fuck w'me so much."

safe to say that gojo satoru would have a hard time letting go of you ever again. wind, hail, fire or prison realm — the strongest was going to have his way with you. his pretty girl, all spread pretty and dewy for him to feast on.

gojo's fingers are long, splitting you open as he begins to slide the digits right up into you. scissoring you open at a bullying pace, so you can only cry and squirm from where you are, "faster, f-fuck, your mouth too, 'toru!"

"whatever ya' want from me, 'm all yours to give," gojo murmurs, pressing a soft bite into the fat of your thighs, pushing his tongue into your entrance too, teasing at the outer edges of your gummy walls, "s'so tight, and 'm only using m'hands and this mouth," the tip of the muscle being sucked in by your pretty, sopping folds.

two lengthy fingers still pushing through your walls, exploring every crevice and sticky orifice that he can find, before rough pads brush past a spot that makes you scream, "oouh, m'girl's sensitive there?"

"s-satoru," you try to take in heavy swathes of air into your lungs, feeling much of the world fall away as gojo's nose grinds at your clit, each brush making you jerk your hips up and up, till you're seeing stars.

and oh, you're definitely seeing the whole damn night sky like this. you don't know what it is that he's doing, that sharp buzz faintly running in your ears, that faint crackle of energy that makes you jolt, but you can guess, "hah, 's not fair, using j-jujutsu, 'm gonna cum, m'really gonna cum!"

"now," it's a command, and you can hear it in gojo's ruined tone, that he needs to see you fall apart like this, needs to taste your release on his tongue and you writhe, as tears prick at your lashes underneath the blindfold, your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves that leave you limp and boneless.

gojo's hands are trailing up again, leaning upwards to gently pull the blindfold from your eyes, and oh, what a sight! the white-haired man looks breathless, as though the air has been stolen away from him. eyes glowing with running cursed energy, a bright light in the dark that has your thighs clenching at how feral he looks. glossy lips dripping syrup over his chin, and how utterly pleased he looks.

"thereee you are," gojo murmurs, pressing his lips hotly to your own, "can ya' taste how sweet y'are?" each sticky kiss leaving you dizzy, but not as giddy as you feel when your eyes drop lower.

your panties still wrapped around his wrist, uniform sleeve pushed up so you can see where your slick has dampened the pale dusting of hair on his arm. and there, well, eyes on the prize as they say.

he's bigger than anyone else that you've ever seen. it seems fitting that gojo satoru's cock is just as girthy, and beefy as he is. curling upwards in a thick shaft that's kissing wet smears of fluid over his jacket, staining it.

"that's not gonna' fit," the only logical thing you can say right now, eyeing the pink, swollen head of his cock and how it glows.

the sorcerer's tilting his head, "we can make it fit," hand reaching out to run gentle strokes across your knuckle, "we got allll the time in the world to make it fit, don't we? and, heh, i don't think our audience really minds, do ya'?"

you scowl at the reminder of the clattering skulls still chittering away, mindlessly thrumming in the walls of this stupid cube. but you're never one to complain when faced with a site such as this, gojo wrapping long fingers against his cock to glide the head through your syrupy folds. the wide, throbbing head snagging at the sopping walls of your entrance. all while you pull him in closer, nails already beginning to tear lightly at his back.

"kiss m-me, 'toru."

gojo looks up from where he seems mesmerised, taken by the sight of your glossy folds seem to welcome his cock's touch, "what was that, sweetheart?"

"kiss me," you gasp, feeling him press further against you, the tip running circles right over your clit, "when ya' put it in, please."

despite the fact that he was previously nose-deep in your cunt, not five minutes ago, and the fact that he's been pawing your clothes off in a cursed prison realm with no shame, now it seems like you've truly stumped the man. rendered him speechless and flushed, as he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

"awh," gojo murmurs, "pretty girl wants me kissin' her, fuck, ya' don't know what you're asking. or how much y'ruin me," he's taking your mouth into a heart stopping kiss, searing before he breaks away to press light pecks to the corner of your mouth, "hold on, biiig stretch for m'now, but i've got ya', just — ohhh."

gojo feels his own thoughts dissipate as he's pushing into your cunt. every previous subconscious worry of what on earth he had gotten himself (and you, when that fuck-ass clone showed up on the train platform) falling away as he's left with only you. just you, and this maddening cunt that he's ready to call home. forever.

"s-s-so tight," the strongest stutters, "fuck" his hands already pulling at your thighs to spread them wider, so he can bully more hot inches in, just so he can hear the smack! of skin against skin.

you're squealing, digging sharp tips of your nails into faint lines that are definitely gonna' paint his back, "eeh, it's b-big, 'toru." it feels like he's truly split you open, and well, fuck, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't pleased at how you finally got the strongest sorcerer spitting cuntstruck praises into your mouth.

you whimper, the sound falling softly from you as he bottoms out, and chuckles, swiping a slick thumb over your chin, "see? we really did it together, heh," like he's awarding you some participation in a teamwork exercise, "i'm all up in ya' and her," he's patting at your abdomen, right where you know there's a soft divot, a bulge that curls upwards.

the thick, hot tip of his cock pressing messy kisses to your inner walls, throbbing and pulsing. each vein bulging within you, "y'gonna cum in me, right, 'toru? gonna' finish right in —"

gojo stares at you, bewildered for a split second, like you've truly shocked him. blue eyes wide and expressionless for a second, before something far more pained crosses his face, tongue poking out of red, kiss-bitten lips.

"satoru?"

the strongest sorcerer snaps, pushing himself upwards, and dragging you up along side him, rough palms coming up to tug at your thighs, your calves. pulling them over his shoulders, a reverent kiss pressed to your ankle as gojo snarls, "ya' got no idea, do ya'? talkin' out of your slutty cunt, not even knowin' what you're doin' to me? huh?

gojo's now pressing down into you, with such force that it makes your thighs ache and smart, but you can't even bring yourself to care. practically folded in half neatly in a brutal mating press as his cock rummages inside you at a snappish, crazed pace. as though he's desperate to find where he can push into you the most, to have the leaky head kiss at the entrance of your womb.

and oh, gojo's enjoying the view. thinking that he's content with being faced with the bounce, and jolt of your chest against his, the way that your lips part and flutter around each muffled whine and cry of his name. the hazy glimmer that falls over your cockdrunk expression, like he's the only one for you. his own thighs ripple and bulge with each snap, cock pulsing into the depths of your core. kissing your cervix over and over in pleasurable stings.

"sweetheart, fuck," gojo's gasping, tugging at your lips. you don't miss crystalline droplets pooling on the edges of long, white lashes. the shuddering breaths that he takes into his lungs as you've practically snatched his mind and rationality away with the tight heat of your cunt, "n-never felt like this before. ya' drivin' me mad. fuck, fuck, oh, this pussy was jus' made for me, hah."

in the dim glow of this accursed place, the sheen of his eyes seems all the more intense. storm clouds gathering and parting all at once, striking electric sparks that leave you breathless. he's moving at a pace so feral that you can feel tight, heavy balls smack against your ass. desperate to empty themselves into you, just as you had begged.

"gonna' cum, pretty," gojo whines into your panting mouth, eyes fluttering shut as a tear or two streaks away from his waterline, "jus' snatching me so fuckin' tight."

you hammer your hips up to meet his, to feel that delicious tack of his sticky groin against yours, every kiss of pre-cum glistening in your cunt, "don't miss."

"when have i ever m — ohhh, fuck. fuck, 'm -"

yeah. you don't let him finish. clenching around him tight enough just to remind him who's got who wrapped around their finger. sending gojo hurtling towards a heart shattering climax, pumping every divot of your drooling pussy with shades of white and cream. endless streams of milky, translucent seed making its home deep within you. all while you cry out, harshly digging into his back and pulling the strands of his silver-streaked undercut.

"takin' it all, 'm pumping you s'full, sweetheart," gojo whines, mewling as he slaps a hand between you two, roughly pawing at your thigh to push your leg higher up with one hand, giving him enough space to rub tight, tremouring circles over your clit. slapping and sloshing the mess around even more as your mouth falls open.

he's still shooting into you, and you don't have to look down to predict the sticky, glossy mess that must be painted over your cunt now. right where gojo's hand must be dripping in your release, making you sink your teeth into the side of his neck. stars streaking across your vision as all goes black momentarily, but he doesn't let up on your poor, throbbing clit.

"hah, 'm so full, satoru," you groan out, pressing a limp hand to the bulge right over your groin, right where gojo's eyes are trained, his cock still sputtering out the desperate release of his cum into you, and the white-haired man moans. loud, like you've truly undone him.

the overstimulated sting is giving way to another shattering, sharp climax that washes over you once more, as quickly as it came, leaving your heart thumping and your lungs weak, locking your ankles once more around gojo's neck, wresting on his shoulders.

you limply paw at his jacket, tugging at the stiff collar as gojo sighs, content like a cat that's finally been able to bask in the sun, "feelin' more alert now, huh? got any fresh ideas on how to break this thing?"

gojo gives you a lazy, droopy look. eyes half-lidded as he barks a faint, incredulous laugh, "fucked any smart thoughts right outta' me, sweetheart. besides," and now he's flipping the two of you around again, so you're perched once more in his lap.

smacking and squelching in the pooling mess of your shared release, as gojo grunts, lifting the jacket from his torso. revealing an expanse of delicious washboard abs, and mouth-watering, flushed pectorals, "i don't think we're runnin' outta' time here, may as well make the most of it."

[carebearbussy]

𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙚!

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖!𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 '𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣' '𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚', 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.6𝙠

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

"I am so fucked" is something that immediately ran through your mind.

But as you were walking in the spaceous courtyard, you couldn't help but practically float to the source of that amazing smell coming from one of the estates many kitchens in the hallway.

You walk into the kitchen, head peeking curiously at Uraume cooking some soup in a large pot ,following Lord Sukunas request. This was your favorite, and he knew this very well.

Ever since you had moved into his large estate, your life has drastically changed. You were a normal person, with nothing remotely special about you. But you had Sukuna whipped. You were Sukunas favorite, which also automatically came with being the biggest gossip of the Heian Era. Everywhere you look, people would make assumptions about you and your status with the lord. Ever since your arrival, there was no more need for concubines. And it made them furious.

A group of concubines walked past you while you were peeking in the hallway, the ladies snickering to themselves and bickering about you for the 1000th time. You could even call them obsessed with you.

'i really don't get whats so special about her.'

'she's just some high class whore that happened to get lucky.'

'she must be some sort of witch.'

Are some of the things they would say. But as they walked by, one of the woman came up behind you and bumped right into your back, muttering an 'oops' before quickly giggling and running off. You went lunging forward, as your leg tripped, causing a large bleeding bruise. Uraume immediately ran to your side, quickly residing besides your shaking body.

"shiiitttt-" you muttered as you looked down at your leg, while Uraume held it up with their hand. "Don't move." they said as ice started forming around your fragile leg. You winced and whimpered in pain, as blood began trickling down your leg to your feet.

"Please don't tell Lord Sukuna... he cant know about this-" you say, as if thats the most important thing right now. "Y/n. You know I must inform him. That would be going against his wishes." Damn, you knew they would say that. You'll just have to try and hide your leg for as long as possible. But what that entirely possible? Considering he always had somebody watching you when he was not, and the fact that he can basically know for certain when something is wrong.

You knew how he would react, and that he would go overboard and blame it on those girls. And you took pity towards them. While they did practically vomit in your presence, you didn't want to be known as some prissy complainer.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You had convinced Uraume to leave your side, as you layed in your futon, trying to distract yourself from the pain. Sukuna had granted you the privilege of sharing a bed with him. He was currently busy (as so you thought), with fornicating with important business matters. So what better time to get better than now? You had all day to yourself in your mind.

You toyed with your thumbs while staring at the ceiling. Due to the status your leg is in, your options of keeping yourself busy are quite limited. While your glad Sukuna doesn't see you in your current state, you wished he was here keeping you some sort of company.

Being Sukunas favorite came with its perks, but one of its downsides was being pretty lonely. People were scared to become close to you, due to Sukunas tendency to kill people on sight when it came to you. You are always being targeted, and people don't want to fuck up their chance at life.

You were lost in your own thoughts, when suddenly the sliding door slams open, with enough force to cause an earthquake. By the look ok Sukunas face, you could tell he was furious. Not at you, but to whoever did this to you. Next to him was Uraume, looking as unbothered as ever. They were holding a tray, consisting of soup, water, towels, and a mochi a servant picked out at the fancy market per Sukunas request.

"Show me your leg, woman." Sukuna demanded, making his way towards you on the bed. He sat next to you, as he tried pulling the covers out of the way, but glared at you when you tried to stop him. "Why must you resist? I already know what happened. Hurry up and show me."

Your felt your eye twitch, as your body stiffened at his gruff words. "Nothings wrong 'kuna. What are you talking about?" You say, as you look him into the eyes, but failing to do so fully because of how intimidating he got when he was mad. Sukuna let out a guttural sigh, looking over at Uraume. "Hold her down." He says to them. "Understood." As Uraume made their way over to you, holding your hips down with their hands. Sukuna pulled the covers off of you and you could see his eyes widen upon looking at your injury.

"The fuck is this?" He exclaims as he looks down at your leg. You look away in shame, as the blood dripping down your knee hits the mattress, and stains the white satin bedsheets a deep crimson. He then looks back up to you, looking for answers.

"Who did this." "...." you don't respond. "I said, who did this. Don't make me repeat myself." "it was the blonde girl... I dont remember her name all too much..." you say, as you look away from him. But his upper hand grabs hold of your chin, forcing you to look in his direction. You can clearly see he doesn't know who your talking about, not bothering to remember the looks and names of other woman, besides you. That was something Uraume had told you, and every time you think about it, it makes you warm up inside.

"Fuckin' hell woman... you're gonna be the death of me someday." He says, with genuine concern for your leg. "Uraume, run her a bath feed her, and get some of the nurses to take care of her. I have something I need to do." He says, as he gets up from the bed, quickly giving your already messy hair a ruff. As he stands int he doorframe, he gives you one last glance before leaving, leaving him with the last word.

You stare dumbfounded into your own thoughts, until your snapped back into reality by the sudden realization... 'holy shit, is she in danger?' But those thoughts are also occupied by Uraume lifting you up into their arms, and carrying you to the warm, steamy bath that usually accompanied you and Sukuna. But since he was busy doing god knows what, you were alone with Uraume and two other handmaidens.

As they scrubbed your body in the giant tub, you fell into your own thoughts. You tried to relax deep into the water, but the wooden walls ran thin in the estate, cauing you to overhear something you wish you hadnt.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

"My lord! Please, I apologize for my actions!" The girl had exclaimed. She was begging for her life at this point. Sukuna, as well as three butlers had the poor girl surrounded. She was on her knees, kneeling all the way to the floor, with her hands pressed firmly against her face. All she could do was pray that her life could be willingly spared.

"What is the meaning of this? You think its all fun and games around here, but you are simply wasting my time. It shouldn't be on such trash like yourself." He states firmly. Hearing Sukuna call her trash got to her head, and drove her deeper into a state of despair.

"You are merely incompetent, easily replaceable." Sukuna says as he kicks her head, with a harsh 'thud'. The girl grabs hold of Sukunas feet, as she rests her forehead onto his left. "Please! Ill take one hundred lashes! Just please don't kill me, i'm still so young-" "Tsk, i've heard enough." He says as he slashes the woman across the back, leaving her killed in a blink of an eye.

"Take care of this, I cant have somebody like her be around Y/N."

As he gestures the butlers to carry and clean the residue up, he walks towards your room, head held high, and feeling proud of himself. He doesn't feel the need to impress you, but he had to admit he felt really good right now. Not at killing the woman, but at the idea of your reaction. Will you be concerned? Happy? Angry? Who knows, but it always ends the same.

He walks into your shared bedroom, not even knocking, as he stares at your sleeping form, and sees your cute little silk pajamas. God, you were adorable. But he would swear on his life to never truly admit that. Your chest moves up and down as you are in dream land, your shirt riding up to reveal your stomach.

"Brat, wake up." He says, which immediately waking you up from your sweet dreams. You shoot your head up, as Sukuna glares daggers into your eyes.

"You awake now? Good. I slayed that brainless, ignorant woman."

He says, no feelings behind his words, as he slowly crawls his way up the bed, eyes still locked onto yours. He looks you up and down, seemingly staring into you, making you feel exposed.

"What did you do?"

"Thats not important right now. But I think I know what is."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

[grandline-fics]

Nightmare Wedding

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: slight angst and some insecurities but with comfort and happy endings in all

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri | Law, Zoro | Luffy, Usopp

WORDS: 3,014

A/N: I loved this idea and couldn't help but do another. Of course as soon as I posted the last one an idea for Ace finally came to me. Added Ace and Kid for @breadlover6969 and Mihawk, Shanks, and Katakuri (who also won the poll) for @kabloswrld

Hope you all enjoy!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

Ever since you and Ace became a couple, Ace noticed that he slept amazing when you were beside him. The nights you had to sleep apart however, brought restlessness, sometimes strange dreams that left him feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all, but it was worse when he had to suffer through nightmares. Tonight, he reluctantly went to bed while you had to stay in the infirmary while you recovered from a sickness. It was just a precaution to avoid you infecting the others but Ace needed more convincing than the others. He didn’t care if he got sick and would have risked it but you managed to talk him around, promising it would be just one night and it would make you feel better to know he was safe and healthy. Reluctantly he climbed into the bed and pouted at your empty side until his eyes grew heavy and sleep claimed him. 

“Ace how do I look?” You asked him in his dream and he broke out into an overwhelmed smile, taking in your breathtaking appearance. You were all but glowing, dressed for a wedding; your wedding. Slowly he reached out to cup your face before taking your hand to playfully twirl you and take in your outfit with growing appreciation. Unable to hold back, he pulled you into a tight hug. “You look amazing, you always do.” He whispered, pulling back to see your eyes light with joy as you you looked down at your outfit, smoothing the fabric into place. 

“I’m glad. I hope Marco thinks so too.” You beamed up at him, unaware of Ace’s expression dropping into one of confused dread. Marco? What did Marco have to do with it all? He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when you quickly took his hands into yours and leaned in with an excited smile. “Ace, will you walk me down the aisle? It’d mean so much to me!”

“B-but…aren’t you going to marry me?” Ace asked with a frown, his heart sinking when you tilted your head in confusion before laughing. 

“Ace, don’t be silly!” You grinned, giving him a playful shove. “You know I’m marrying Marco, come on I can’t be late!” Before he could react, you grabbed his wrist and hurried down a corridor that seemed unending. Finally the corridor shifted to reveal a filled room, your hand was no longer in his and you stood with Marco at the altar. 

His stomach lurched and Ace let out a yelp as he landed on the floor of his room, tangled in the bedsheet and head swimming as he tried to let his brain catch up with the fact he was awake and what he’d just witnessed was a horrible dream. Scrambling to his feet, Ace bolted out of the room and hurried to the infirmary, hearing the sound of you coughing when he neared the door. Quietly he entered and walked quietly to your bedside. “Ace? You should be in bed.” You told him weakly. 

“No, I should never have let you talk me into leaving you.” Ace said as he climbed into the bed with you, pulling you close to let you rest against him. His fingers lightly moved over your back, soothing your aching body while also finding your presence soothing him from the nightmare he’d had. “We’re a team right? Through thick and thin…sickness and in health.”

“Aren’t those wedding vows?”

“Are they?” Ace asked innocently but you could hear his heart pick up speed slightly. “Must have been a coincidence…”

SHANKS

Before meeting you, Shanks never saw himself as the settling down type. He was more than content to live his days exploring and enjoying himself with a lover in every island should the mood take him. Then you came along and changed his life in every wonderful way imaginable. You were the adventure he’d been missing and hadn’t even known he was searching for. He couldn’t imagine ever being apart from you. You might have fallen for his charm and flirtatious smile first but he fell for your warmth and beautiful soul so much harder. 

So when he dreamt of himself standing at the front of an altar, he knew you would be the only other possible person his subconscious would conjure to join him. Shanks felt excitement gather in his chest and then in a blink he saw Beckman appear beside him. “This is a big thing, Captain. You sure you can go through with this?” His right-hand man asked with a grin before continuing. “I mean you’ve never preformed a wedding ceremony before, will you be able to handle it?”

Shanks felt his excitement fizzle out and it was quickly replaced with confusion and apprehension. Yes, as Captain he would be the one to marry members of his crew but he couldn’t possibly be the one to get married and preform the ceremony at the same time. It didn’t make sense and as much as he wanted to know, he dreaded what the explanation would be because he already knew it wasn’t going to be something he’d like. “Benn! Shanks!” 

Both heads turned and Shanks’ chest felt like it was going to explode with adoration and pride as he saw you hurry to them. He waited for your hands to reach for him but instead you merely smiled at him and hurried to Beckman’s side, eagerly letting his arms wrap around you and hold you close. “Sorry I’m late but we can start now.” You beamed, your gaze settling on Shanks’ face expectantly. “Whenever you’re ready Captain, I can’t wait to marry this man!”

With a jolt and gasp, Shanks woke to the calm, dark silence using the sound of the gentle waves hitting the side of the Red Force to help calm his breathing. He glanced to down to see you curled up on your side, your back against him and your arms loosely but just as possessively wrapped around his arm. Shanks let out a small huff as he silently laughed at his stupid mind for conjuring such a ridiculous scenario. Rolling onto his side, Shanks pressed a kiss against your temple, stilling when you began to shift. You turned as you began to wake, curling into his chest and let out a sleepy smile when his now freed arm tightened around you, keeping you close. “Everything okay?” You mumbled. 

“Never better.” Shanks affirmed with a smile, pressing another kiss against your cheek. As much as he knew it was a ridiculous dream and that things between you both were beyond amazing, Shanks considered that maybe he was worried in some part that someone may take you from him someday. “Promise me you won’t marry Beck, okay?”

“Why, you wanna marry him?” Even half-asleep you were still able to make a joke and help your lover relax. 

“The only one I want to be committed to is you.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise?”

“I do.”

MIHAWK

“Clown, what is the meaning for all of this…fanfare?” Mihawk asked, looking around the extensibly decorated circus tent. Brightly coloured ribbons adorned the ceiling, flowers were displayed in grand, flashy, and quite simply ostentatious arrangements that just screamed ‘Buggy the Clown.’ None of it was to Mihawk’s taste but it was clear the clown was up to something. The figurehead of Cross Guild spun around, dressing in a bright suit and his painted smile, spread wide in triumph. 

“Mihawk! So glad you’ve arrived. We were worried you were going to miss the festivities. They’ll be writing about this in the papers for weeks.” Buggy declared with a laugh, allowing his hands to detach from his arms to gesture widely as confetti seemed to rain down from nowhere. Mihawk’s eye twitched at the useless theatrics, he’d asked a question and wanted an actual answer. Thankfully he didn’t need to repeat himself because Buggy cleared his throat and stepped to the side to show the altar Mihawk could have sworn wasn’t there before. “It’s my wedding obviously.”

A wedding? This was the first Mihawk heard about it. As far as he knew, Buggy hadn’t had a serious relationship in a long time, certainly not serious enough to warrant a wedding. So who was the clown’s secret betrothed? The answer came instantly when he heard footsteps behind him. Mihawk turned and did a double take when he saw it was you. The look in your eyes was filled with so much excitement and joy they practically sparkled. He began to reach out for you but you slipped past him and continued with conviction until you were proudly beside Buggy. Disbelief gripped Mihawk at the scene in front of him. No, this was impossible. Letting his instincts take hold, he reached for Yoru and charged for Buggy. 

“Mihawk, no!” You pleaded, stepping in front and stopping his attack mid-swing with just your voice. “Please it’s my wedding day. Promise there’ll be no fighting. For me okay?” Mihawk snapped awake immediately and let out a sigh of relief to see he was in his own quarters and not a garish decoration in sight. Despite having slept, the nightmare he was forced to endure had left him exhausted. Part of him was reluctant to try and fall back to sleep out of worry of what other hellish thoughts his mind would conjure for him. 

With a sigh he reached out your side of the bed and only now he noticed it was empty. Yet it was still warm, you’d only just risen but it was still late at night. Just as he was about to rise and search for you, the door opened and you silently crept in, pausing to see Mihawk was awake and watching you. Now seeing you had no need to be stealthy you smiled and walked back towards the bed. “I was getting a drink of water. Did I wake you?”

“No, love.” Mihawk answered, holding out his arms to pull you close against him, his eyes closing when your fingers slipped into his hair. “Had an awful dream you married the clown and wouldn’t let me cut him to pieces for it.” 

“How strange…” You mused with a yawn. “Although I’m not opposed to the idea, truth be told.”

“Marrying the clown?” Mihawk leaned back to look at you, unable to hide his disgust as the images from his dream came flooding back. 

“No!” You laughed pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Marrying you. Although people consider us married anyway.” Mihawk chuckled, it was true. Mihawk supposed now that it had been properly brought up, it was worth considering to finally propose. His golden eyes observed you carefully and saw your eyes were growing heavy. That was a conversation best saved for the morning. 

KID

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Kid shouted as he looked at you standing hand in hand with none other than Strawhat Luffy, both of you dressed very clearly for a wedding. At his outburst you both turned to look at him in shared confusion. “Him? You’re seriously going to marry him! He’s a moron!”

“Only sometimes.” You shrugged before smiling dreamily at the Strawhat pirate. “He’s also super strong, and funny, and he’s King of the Pirates now so-”

“What? No he’s not!” Kid argued angrily trying to charge forward but every step he took kept him firmly on the same spot. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be happening. You were with him! You had no interest in the pipsqueak Captain of the Strawhats like that. You weren’t as shallow to only be with something because of their title, you weren’t like that. You saw the good in people, you’d seen the good in him and you loved him. Of that much Kid was certain of. This just had to be some awful dream. He just needed to wake up and everything would be okay. 

“Kid!” Kid jolted upright with a yell meeting your bewildered gaze. “What is it? You were calling my name over and over. Are you okay?” You hesitated from touching him as out of fear he was still clinging to the nightmare he was waking from, not wanting to overwhelm him but you had to speak to him, to reassure him your were here. You watched as Kid steadied his breathing and reached out towards you with his good arm. Quickly you took his hand into both of yours and guided his fingers to rest against your collarbone so he could feel your steady heartbeat under your skin and feel the rise and fall of your chest, hoping he would copy the steadied breaths and calm. “I’m here, we’re safe in our room. What do you need?”

“Kill Strawhat.” Kid ground out tightly as he calmed, his fingers flexing around yours just a little tighter to ground him in the reality. Finally he let out a long, heavy sigh and shook his head. “Nah, he’s not worth my time. Just need you babe.” You let out a sigh of your own, soft and relieved to hear him speak and inched closer, smiling when his hand moved up to curl behind your neck and thread into your hair, pulling you in for a soft and gentle kiss. Parting he lay his forehead against yours, finding his ability to be vulnerable around you to be proof of the love you both shared.

“Promise me, even if that little runt becomes King of the Pirates and asks you to marry him, you’ll say no.”

“Kid, you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You reassured him softly. “Don’t care about titles or any of that stuff but if you want to give me a ring and let me call you husband if it makes you feel better we can do that?”

“Did you just half-ass a proposal to me?” Kid asked with a grin, all worries from his dream vanishing instantly. 

“Not at all, Captain. Was just letting you know you can half-ass propose to me if you want.” With a laugh and a playful shove, Kid considered taking you up on the offer but now he had to wait for a while so that when he did propose, it would seem like it was all his idea.

KATAKURI

Another tea-party, another celebration filled with people and a feast of the finest food imaginable. Katakuri stood firmly in place, watching all of the guests and his family occupy the space, prepared for anything to happen. Like everything else, nothing would escape his sight and nothing would ruin his mother’s carefully planned party, he always made sure of that. Across the large garden he caught sight of the extravagant mountain-sized wedding cake and now he felt confused, he hadn’t known this was a wedding. Curiously he looked around, searching for his siblings to spot who would be the bride or groom. But then that thought went out of his head when he saw you of all people standing at the altar at the top of the cake. 

His heart all but skipped when he saw you but that led him to become even more confused. If you were up there and waiting to get married, why was he all the way down here and standing watch? He was madly in love with you and you loved him, so why were you both apart? Then you turned to face someone who was on top of the cake with you. Katakuri watched in dismay to see his brother Perospero take your hand in his and grin at you. Behind his thick layers of his scarf wound around the lower half of his face, Katakuri’s lips curled in a tight snarl and he gripped his arms tightly to control the mounting anger. Why was this happening?

From behind him he heard his mother’s loud laughter, delighted by the ceremony taking place on the cake she couldn’t wait to devour. Katakuri lowered his gaze and took a deep breath, of course. Big Mom did enjoy arranging marriages for her children and this was clearly one of her arrangements but he couldn’t help but feel the pain of how you’d been taken from him and he couldn’t do anything to intervene. Worse still, you didn’t even look like you wanted him to be in Prosperous place. 

Katakuri woke instantly, his eyes snapping open and his mind clearing just as fast. As though sensing the change in his body, you stirred from your comfortable place on his chest. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned, Katakuri’s hand fell over your back, making sure to keep you comfortable knowing that your mind was still hazy and body was still heavy as it clung to the need for sleep. If he reassured you all was well quickly, you’d fall back into your own pleasant dreams in no time. “Kata…what’s the matter?” You mumbled, managing to crack your eyes open slightly to look at him. 

“Just a bad dream. I’m fine now.” Katakuri informed you simply, never needing to lie to you. 

“Hm, what kind of dream?” You asked, absently running your fingers over his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat that always lulled you to sleep.

“Dreamt mother had arranged for you to marry Perospero.” He explained, rubbing your back in response to your soothing touches. “I could only stand by and watch.”

“Sorry you had to dream such a thing but don’t worry that won’t happen.”

“If mother demanded it, I couldn’t fight against her wishes.” Katakuri mumbled, feeling his own mind grow hazy once more as your radiating warmth was coaxing him to sleep. He blinked when you abruptly pushed yourself up to frown at him in the dark. “What?”

“Katakuri…we’re already married.” You reminded him, lifting your hand to show the band of metal on your finger glinting in the moonlight. With a tired, amused huff at your husbands momentary lapse in memory you flopped back down onto your husband’s chest. 

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[gyuswhore]

Cherry Picker [1]

«« "Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't." »» 

Choi Seungcheol x reader | part of the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios!

Part 1: 19k | Part 2

warnings: Hockey player! Seungcheol, figure skater! reader, *deep breath* ENEMIES TO LOVERS, angst, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], toxic friends, cheol has anger issues, kkuma appearance, @miniseokminnies makes also makes a fluffy appearance, injuries, mentions of blood, smut tags in the next part

synopsis: Cherry Picking [ice hockey]: a manoeuver in which a player, the floater, literally loafs (spends time in idleness) or casually skates behind the opposing team's unsuspecting defencemen while they are in their attacking zone. There wasn't much you counted on in life; just your skates, your drive and how it felt to win. And of course, your local ice rink, that is now being colonised by an obnoxious hockey team in all their big, loud, stinking glory. Neither does it help that one particular red donned specimen forgets to leave his cherry picking on the ice.

[a/n] (it's a long one but PLEASE read) : ITS HERE FINALLY this was an extremely bumpy ride and I wouldn't have finished it without all of my friends who quite literally kept me going. I know I made an update saying this was gonna end up being 20k max but it turns out my yap-itis is for life </33

the posting schedule for this fic is going to be a little less predictable, I will try to get part 2 out asap but I do not currently have a date for you.

big thank you to @highvern for betaing and making me feel better about this fic, @amourcheol for talking me out of meltdowns multiple times and for giving me some really good scene pointers, @ugh-yoongi for being so patient w me and explaining how ice hockey works with so much patience. ty to @the-boy-meets-evil @tusswrites @lovetaroandtaemin for also proof reading for me 🥹

HUGE thank you to everyone at @camandemstudios who agreed to be part of this collab and being part of the journey as we grow 🫶 please check out the collab masterlist linked above, there's already so many amazing fics posted ready for you to read <33

that being said, I know more about figure skating than I do about hockey, but even so there are defo some inconsistencies in terms of accuracies in this, please bear with me 🫶 remember to reblog or send me an ask telling me your thoughts, id love to hear what you guys think 🥹 masterlist

“CAN I HELP YOU?”

“I’m sorry,” you gravel out. 

“Sorry isn’t gonna give back my hour and thirteen minutes.” 

The strap of your gym bag cuts into your bare shoulder where the collar had slipped, the tight threading sure to leave a scratch by the time this is bound to be done. You’d managed to avoid coach Carroll’s morning cornering for a couple months, going above and beyond by showing up to the icy rink before she could even pull up in the parking lot in her blaring red Porsche, let alone before her ten minute meditations in her cream coloured seats. 

“There was an accident on the highway. Truck tipped over.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Carroll points.

“Illegal truck, I guess.” 

Teeth to tongue, you know you’ve done it. 

She’s in her usual tracksuit, green today, that contrasts her bright red hair in its tight curls. Her glasses are her sensible Ralph Laurens, eyes piercing through the tinted lens as she holds her chin in her hands. Silent, calculating. 

“Fine. Change.” 

Your legs want to give out before you can even get your skates on. 

There were many things Isabella Carroll was good at. The industry would have one of them be a good coach; one of the most expensive, the one that squeezed the life out of her students to inject into the golds, silvers and bronzes they would then bring her on an equally diamond encrusted platter. 

She has also mastered the art of impeccable dressing downs. 

The fact she chose to skip out on verbally humiliating you meant you’d managed to strike that cord. She might be leaving in the next 45 minutes, but she has a very particular way of stretching the minutes into years. 

Like a whipped horse, you scurry into the locker rooms, skin crawling. Your gym bag is positively launched into your designated locker, shoes kicked off as you attempt to stick your right foot into your skates, narrowly missing your heel as it grazes right past the toe pick. 

You slow down after that, not needing a scar on your heel to match the large one on the side of your calf. 

By the time you jog back out, unzipping your jacket to throw onto one of the benches, coach is on the ice, following Marina who zips around on the other end of the rink in her step routine. 

It’s difficult to not rush through your warmups when you’re already late, your splits hardly pushed out as you pray all that running around in the desolate locker rooms was enough to stretch everything out. 

There’s a crash on the illuminated ice as you slip off your skate guards, Marina already practising her Salchows. “You’re in the air for enough time, why can’t you rotate?!” 

Right blade first, you step into the cold encircling, gliding into the centre to begin making your usual rounds around the circumference.

There’s a positive screech of your name from across the ice, wind blowing in your hair as you turn to look. “Do I need to hire someone to hold up your free leg? Fix it, girl!”  

Holding your left leg more taut, you attempt to transition into a jump and spin. You fail, landing on both feet. Somehow, falling on your ass felt like a better conclusion to that arc. 

“Wonderfully executed! Let’s try both hands on the ice too next time, really complete the contemporary finish,” coach hollers out to you as she continues to follow Marina at the same time. 

Trying again, you manage to land on your outer left blade. You receive no comment. 

You try the jump again, pushing into a sit spin. 

The momentum is enough to begin the familiar slack in your scalp, your bun loosening its grip on your hair. Biting your tongue would be dangerous right now, but you would if you could, especially considering the ramifications of your hair coming undone in front of her. 

The crouch as you spin burns your thighs like you’re being branded, pulling yourself back up as you finish abruptly. Still no comment, the unintelligible string of nagging coming from the other side of the rink. 

Marina stands hands on her hips, breathing so heavily she’s nearly heaving. Her blonde hair is loosening far worse than yours, strands framing her face. Coach Carroll waves her hands and shakes her head so quickly you wonder how her glasses haven’t flown off. You didn’t get to see what cardinal sin Marina committed to warrant this reaction, but you feel better knowing she’s exhausted enough to let her insults swim past. 

Ten seconds is enough to catch your breath, moving to do something busy enough to avoid another being screamed at across the ice, again. 

By the end of the remaining forty five minutes, you realised your punishment was also punishing Marina. Coach Carroll remained tailing Marina as you attempted to do everything that would please her, far away from her. Not a direction, praise or neutral comment in sight or sound, sealed with her always expected retorts. 

She leaves without a word, leaving you scrambling to the benches for a seat. Putting your skate guards on is torture, your legs refusing to pull up to reach them. You hardly notice Marina slam down into the seat beside you to mimic you slumped down and head lolled back, eyes closed to the bright ceiling. 

“These skates are gonna kill me,” you whine once you’ve caught your breath, unlacing them to inspect the blistering damage. 

“They’re brand new, what did you expect?” she retorts, moving to sit up straighter. Of course, you were grappling at straws expecting anything akin to sympathy from Marina. 

It was your misfortune that the day you had to break in your skates was the day you’d be late, your heavily bandaged foot still aching as you sit idle. 

Your lungs are still burning when you pull yourself back up, knees buckling the absolute slightest bit as you attempt to take the first baby step back onto the ice. 

“We need to get back to it,” Marina says, and you have half a mind to bite that you were up before her. 

She’s faster at slipping off her skate guards though, and you watch her back as she glides back onto the ice. You follow suit, trailing her as you speak. 

“Hey, I’m sorry Carroll was on your ass because of me. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, I overslept.”

She turns to look at you, ghost of a smile on her face. “Time to go old school I guess, I think my brother left behind his old alarm clock from college.”

“I guess—”

“Besides, I needed that. Wouldn’t have known my Salchows were sucky otherwise.”

She doesn’t let you respond and you’re left to watch as she takes off to warm herself back up. 

Strange as it was, you’ve found her behaviour simply doesn’t affect you anymore, choosing to take her as she was. She pushed you to be better, to work harder. Even now, as your ankle burns and your hip screams, you brace yourself into another axel entry, trying your hardest to keep up with Marina. 

It’s another couple hours when Marina leaves for her second appointment with her personal trainer, leaving you alone. 

It’s less crowded now, despite the head count going from two to one, but you appreciate the alleviation as you continue to practise for the rest of the morning. The rink feels more vast and your hip has stopped its incessant aches. 

Having finished a run through of your routine without music, you move towards the sound booth to turn on the tail end of your track, skating back to the echoing rink to brace yourself for the next four agonising minutes. 

You’ve adjusted your starting position about ten times by the time the silence of the song restarting settles. And then it begins, soft piano as you push yourself off into the throngs of this hellsent routine. 

It’s muscle memory by now, but your stomach lurches before you push into a jump anyway. There isn’t much time to ponder when you’re midair, tight yet contorted, trying to land on the right side of the blade. But there’s a phantom pain in your right ankle, right when you’re at the point of your arc, and you feel the all too dreaded panic flood in. 

You land on both feet, less than ideal but with no one to watch the fail, it was better than falling on your ass. There’s been worse outcomes, so there’s little you can do but continue into the step sequence. 

Trying to shake off that bout of panic, you briefly wonder if the music suddenly had more bass than you’d last checked. Perhaps you just hadn’t been practising like you should, but you make a mental note mid-spin to listen to the track again later tonight for any tidbits you’d missed. 

Your heartbeat is trying to accommodate more air than you can let it, especially as you feel the pulse in your ears quicken as you approach your final jump sequence. The music is louder yet muffled all the same, there’s an incessant banging that you can’t figure out is from your head or a corrupted music file. But you find that sweet spot, deciphering through the ruckus in your brain, and you jump. 

It happens again, the strange ache in your ankle that should be long gone, and just like that, all that panic you shook off in the interim comes hurtling back. The world’s gone silent, blaringly so, and for some heaven known reason, you’ve closed your eyes.

You aren’t so lucky this time round, landing directly on your back with a spectacular crash, the ice cutting cold through your thermals as you slide in the direction of your epic fall. Eyelids opening, they’re met with the spotlighted ceiling, head cushioned by the hard plane of ice beneath you. 

The pain in your ankle’s escaped like a fugitive, done it’s damaged and left you crumpled on the floor. The adrenaline is rushing just enough to keep you from identifying any other awakened aches, but you have a sneaking feeling your hip is going to hate you after this. 

You’re still laying flat on the ice when you realise you're laying in mostly silence. Your music is off, and has been since you came to on the floor. The banging, you realise, wasn’t just in your head either. The unmistakable reverberation of the locker rooms is loud and assuming, noises rattling all the way out onto the echoing rink. 

It takes the strength of a village to pull yourself up, but you do it anyhow, ignoring the blatant protests of your mind and soul as you squint across the rink to the sound booth. 

As you skate towards the gate, you assume it’s Hansol trying to get your attention by disrupting you mid session, but the figure shuffling into view is telling you otherwise. 

It isn’t anyone you know, clearer as you grow closer to the gate. It’s obvious he’s the culprit that turned off your music, your laptop shut and the wire to the speakers disconnected from the port. 

You stare at it pointedly as you grapple for your skate guards. 

The man does nothing but remain with his hands in the pockets of his bright red hoodie, hovering over your laptop as he watches you struggle with your skates. SVT stitched onto the back in black. He’s as blank faced as ever, a stark contrast to your heavy breathing as you come round. 

Standing up straight, you dart between your laptop and this person, waiting for an explanation that seems to be lost in the void. You’re still heaving slightly, scowl forming on your face as this strange man offers you nothing.

“Um, did you—”

“Yeah. It’s four,” he responds, like it was supposed to explain enough. 

“And that means…?”

“We have the rink reserved.”

“But it’s Monday,” you respond. It sounds stupid, but it meant something. The rink was reserved on the weekdays for coach Carroll’s mentees, the weekends for the public. 

This man and his big brown eyes gaze directly into your soul as he responds, “And that means…?” 

You’re sweaty and tired, your feet ache with about five new blisters from the last time you checked, and you’re sure you need to get your hip checked out. Perhaps that’s why there’s this unreasonable surge of irritation that rises in the back of your head, irrational and half blinding. 

“That means—”

“Seungcheol! Get your ass in the locker room before I drag you in there myself.” The voice that rings out is heavy and has you flinching, the man’s order echoing from somewhere in the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. 

The man you assume is named Seungcheol begins to walk away from you without a word or gesture, and you can only blink at his retreating back. 

“Hey! Do you mind not touching my stuff next time round?” you call out as a last ditch attempt to have the last word. He turns his head to you, eyebrows raised and a smirk of mild disbelief growing on his face. Nothing is said as his head turns back to the front, strutting into the tunnel.

He lets you have your last word as he walks away, your gaze the same shade of crimson as his retreating form. 

“AND THEN—THESE—HUGE dudes with fucking botox or fillers in their shoulders storm out—”

Your vent is interrupted by Lorelai who’s burst out laughing mid bite of her sandwich, “What?”

“Botox!” she muffles a shriek through a full mouth.

“They were shoulder pads or something, you get it!” 

The air in the outside seating of this cafe is stellar, the perfect in between you wait for all year. The parasol above you is enough so you don’t have to squint your eyes in the late afternoon sun, the wind perfectly paced in a breeze. Your own sandwich remains untouched, the bread gone stale as you pick at the corner of the crust. 

“Apologies,” she yips. “So you're saying we’re being partially colonised by hockey players?”

“I don’t know! Was it a one time thing, a weekly thing? It can’t be a weekly thing, Monday afternoons are routine practice days.” 

“The routine you’ve been practising for the past year and a half?” 

“I can’t afford getting rusty.” 

Lorelai drops her head like she’s had enough, “Maybe these hockey jocks are a blessing.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Hey, do you want cake, they have cheesecake, I could get some!” 

“Lorry!”

“Okay,” she huffs, dropping back into her seat with blown cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

Lorelai has a sense of humour that took you more than enough time to decipher, but that wasn’t nearly the first thing you noticed about her. She was beautiful, even more so with the sun gracing her like a loving embrace. The highlights in her otherwise dark hair make the hazel of her eyes pop like two perfectly welcoming cliffs to jump off from. She was the definition of spunk and valour, yet graceful in everything she does. Even now, as she picks up her smoked turkey on honey oat, complete with every fixing and condiment on earth, you question how she can wrench her mouth open to take a reasonable bite; but she does, not a crumb out of place. 

“I have to share a rink with dudes whose hockey sticks are gonna make craters in the ice, why are you not mourning with me?”

“Pretty sure your toe picks do the same thing.”

“Lorelai!” 

“Not the government name!” she wails as though woefully wounded. 

“You’re impossible.”

“Carroll didn’t hate me for no reason.” She smiles in her pride. 

Lorelai’s competitive skating career came to an end sometime last year before the Grand Prix, a decision she announced gracefully with the words BITE ME etched with sharpie on her brand new competition skates. It was difficult to erase the mental image of the scarlet of Carrol’s face when Lorelai marched in with her hair chopped so short it’d be impossible to pull into a bun, marked skates in hand and a mask of determined rebellion on her face. Of course, the whole ordeal could’ve been an email, but it simply wouldn’t have been Lorelai. 

“It’s not like you were trying very hard to please her,” you grumble, nibbling on a fry. 

“Why would I try pleasing that woman?”

“For one thing, your sponsors were paying a bucketload so you could have her.”

“I didn’t want Carroll as a coach. Ever. I wanted Jameson. The only reason they put me with Carroll was because they were putting you and Marina with her.” Her voice is hard, eyebrows raised the slightest bit. 

“What does Jameson offer that Carroll doesn’t?!”

“Oh! I don’t know, let’s see,” she raises her voice as her sarcasm begins to simmer with a lethal edge. “Maybe the fact that an hour training with Jameson doesn’t feel like the subjected wrath of a world war two dictator!”

“Carroll is not that bad!”

“God, you become more like Marina everyday.”

You frown, “What does that mean?”

“It means—!” Lorelai pauses to close her eyes, and you can almost hear her counting in her head. “It means nothing. Eat your sandwich before the bread starts molding.”

“Ew.”

Lorelai smirks. “Bite me.”

You attempt to channel some of that Lorelai energy when you get to the rink past noon on a weekday. You hope you’re reasonable in your hope that Hansol will be in his office as you walk towards the door. 

Three rapt knocks before you hear a muffled voice telling you to come in. The door creaks when you open it. Loudly, might you add. 

“How long is it gonna sing every time I come in here?” you grimace. 

Hansol looks at you from behind his laptop with a tight smile. “For as long as I keep forgetting to oil the hinges.”

Hansol, for as young and qualified as he is, is only the rink manager because his family owns the place. Having graduated the year before with a shiny new law degree, he opted to take a break from moving forward with his career to “slow down” as he put it. The rink was as slow as it could get for him, betting the only important thing on his laptop screen currently was solitaire. 

“Did you also forget that I have the rink during the day on weekdays? 

“Ah. You’ve encountered the hockey team.”

“Yes. They turned off my music mid routine.”

“They're only here till the renovations in their home rink are done, we’re the only other rink in town that’s closed to the public on weekdays.” 

“But they’re cutting into my practice time?” you add, brows furrowed. 

Hansol opens his mouth before closing it again, eyebrows raised. “You clock in here five days a week, ten hours a day.”

“And?”

Hansol huffs out a breath. “Listen, I know you and the other skaters like having the rink to yourselves, and I’d be happy if it was always just you guys. Trust me, these jocks are impossible to clean up after, let alone deal with. Between the launch pad calibre noise and the stupid plastic barriers I have to put up on the railings, I’d love for it to just be you guys. But the only times you officially have the rinks booked is in the mornings when you’re training with coach Carrol, the rest of the week is technically up for grabs.”

“Let me book the rest of the slots then.”

“SVT’s already booked most of the remaining hours.” Hansol’s voice is sympathetic, but his words seemed final. You aren’t sure how bad your face was contorted, because suddenly he’s adding, “But hey, you can look at the leftover hours if they work for you.”

He pulls out the roster on a tablet before handing it to you. It only takes you a minute to scroll before you realise the only viable options were past 10 PM. The rink closed at 11. 

You sigh, shoulders visibly sagging as you let out a bated breath of tension. “It’s fine.” You hand the tablet back to Hansol. “I’ll figure it out.”

Turning on your heel, you make a move to leave the premises. Hansol calls out your name. 

“I’m sorry. Really.” 

You muster a smile, one that you cannot feel the slightest bit. “It’s alright.”

“Only a few months.”

Something in your smile sours, and you nod absentmindedly. “Only a few months.” 

THERE WERE OTHER WAYS the universe could have let it happen, someplace where you might have forgiven yourself. Someplace you had reason to be. 

You were accustomed to physical exertion, how could you not be when you were what you were, but hiking on an incline was never something you fancied yourself with. Gyms and coaches and paved running trails are nothing like rocky terrains and steep mountain paths with no guide but a mobile map. 

The semi finals had passed you by, handing you a gold medal along the way as you thrust yourself into bliss. It was a job well done, so much so that you allowed yourself a weekend of something other than skating rinks and training sessions. So many nights that you can hardly remember, yet flash like lightning under your eyelids. Where you sobbed into your pillow and cursed yourself for ever having the gall to take a step back, to be so arrogant and blustering to announce yourself away from the thing that should’ve mattered the most. 

It only took one tiny crater in the path to twist your ankle so hard you crumple to the ground with a scream you cannot remember. More hands than you have holding on to your searing ankle, like they were holding it together with nothing but their palms and fingers. Lorelai was talking, and talking and talking, but all you could hear was the roaring question in your mind. 

Why did you bring me here? 

Six weeks. 

You watched with your own eyes as the Grand Prix final shuttered away on a reel, like you were watching a movie from an age you could not visit. 

Six weeks. 

Marina sat beside your bed and said words you’d never forget. 

“I’m sorry, but…this is your own fault.”

Six weeks. 

Lorelai wept, and said the same words for an entirely different reason. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault, it was my idea.” 

Six weeks. 

Carroll kept face, but you could see past the mask. A sigh that said more than any words of reassurance. Disappointed but not surprised. 

Six weeks you were bedridden with an ankle that refused to support your weight on the surface area of your bare foot, let alone on the 3/16th of an inch on a blade. 

Bedrest, meds, physical therapy, and still. The ache in your ankle follows you like a ghost haunting you of your worst mistake. 

It was your fault. You chose to put whimsy above everything you laboured for, for years and years. You chose to look past your shortcomings like they would not become your achilles heel. You chose to get on that trail. You chose to walk out on crutches.

You, who could land a jump on a fraction of an inch of steel, could now barely stand on her own two feet. 

You’d decided on that day, that you were as pathetic as they come.

IT WAS THE MOST natural decision to drag Lorelai out of where she rotted in bed to come with you to the rink. 

“You want me to fight them?” She’s wearing her Winnie the Pooh fuzzy pyjama pants and a university hoodie on top, her short hair concealed in the hood she’s pulled up. “They are hockey players. We are twigs!” 

“Lorry. Have you ever thrown a punch in your life?” you ask her as you pull your hair back into a loose bind. 

“No?” 

“Then why on earth would I ask you to fight goblins triple our size?” 

Her mouth is gaping in disbelief. “Why am I here then?” 

“You,” you start, grabbing your skates and moving out of the locker rooms. “Are gonna sit pretty in that sound booth and make sure nobody touches my laptop.”

“…you realise Hansol has security cameras right?”

“Are you planning on robbing my laptop?”

“No. Although it does have nice specs.” 

You ignore her as you walk towards the benches. “That stupid hockey team needs to know I have reinforcements of my own.”

Lorelai stands there, brows furrowed and in clothes that drown her. She glances down at her outfit and then back up at you. She deadpans, “This is the most unthreatening I have ever looked.”

“Just—” You stand up too quickly and feel yourself wobble. The railing is hardly a foot away, your hand moving over to grab it. Except your palms feel nothing but the flat of something smooth and hard, fingers bumping into the feeling of something unfamiliar. 

You manage to find your balance with a yelp, immediately snapping up to see where you missed the railing. The railing was still there, perfectly within arms reach. There’s a glare in your vision, like looking through a screen. Higher and higher, you realise quickly that you’ve been looking through a clear barrier so high up you can hardly find where it ends in its erect standing. 

Lorelai speaks up first, her voice resonating loudly, “Isn’t that supposed to be on the other side of the railing. Stupid, stupid Hansol.” 

It looks like it stretches throughout the circumference of the rink, wrapping whoever’s inside in a giant plastic fish bowl. 

There’s a clench in your jaw you can’t control, something a little more than annoyance building in your senses. It should be an easy thing to ignore, especially regarding its practically invisible nature, but its presence is all you can think about, even as you step your right blade onto the ice. 

Skating towards the middle of the rink, you feel claustrophobic. 

“Woah! You look like a zoo animal,” Lorealai adds unnecessarily. 

“Just play the track,” you grumble. 

“There should be a don’t tap on the glass sign,” she says, voice muffled as yells from the benches. “You already look like a weasel, can’t have confused people in the stands.” 

“Lorry!” 

“What?” she yells, her voice muffled as she yells from the benches. 

You curse the plastic that cages you as you yell louder, “Play the track!” 

Lorelai nods and makes a noise of understanding, and you watch her as she disappears into the sound booth. 

Taking your starting position, you wait for the quiet lull of the track before the beginning of the unmistakable piano; the low tremor in the beginning existing to prepare you to jump into the routine. You stand there with your arms out like a swan, waiting for your cue that won't seem to arrive. 

You almost yell out at Lorelai again before you suddenly hear the resonating shrill of the piano notes, startling yourself out of your first push. It’s fine, you’ll recover. You’re distracted by your staggered start and it’s enough to have you miss your first jump. It’s fine. You’ll recover. 

By the time the four minutes are up, you’ve missed two of your five jumps, a spin gone wrong, and nearly crashed into the plastic barrier. Not to mention, the aches in your body are enough to seem impossible to geographically pinpoint. 

It’s pointed, the way you make a beeline for the benches, refusing to look at Lorelai. You can almost imagine her expression, the poker face she has when she’s trying to think of ways to structure her next words nicely. 

“What was that?” she deadpans, voice a little far away. Your body hurts enough to take your focus away from her. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I thought your ankle was fine now?” she asks. 

You grit your teeth. “It is.” Lies. The way it was hurting you right now was making sure to remind you of that. 

“You know, you did pick back up a lot earlier than we thought—”

“I said I’m fine, Lorry,” you snap. “Now can you please play the track again.” 

You finally look up, and she looks like she wants to say something. But you’re on the ice before she can. 

You adapt to the excess muffle of the plastic barriers, ears straining to hear the beginning of the piano before you jump into the choreography smoother than last time. This time round, it’s better. The pain in your ankle and the budding one in your hip is apparent, but it’s suddenly easier to drown it out. Focusing on the music, keeping your centre of gravity, pushing into your jumps and spins with enough vigour to hold to what you are. 

Another four minutes pass and it’s over. Immediately, you swing over to the soundbooth to find Lorelai, only to find her joined by an extra set of people.

Impossibly, your blood runs cold. 

There’s a sneaking suspicion you know who it is despite the two men having their backs turned to you, especially judging by the obnoxious red jackets they have on. SVT. You can hear Lorelai speak indecipherably, her voice stern. 

“And you are?” one of them asks. You don’t recognise him, but you do the other one. The one who turned your music off the first day him and his team stepped foot in here. 

“Lorelai!” she yells it for no reason. 

“Gilmore?” The one you recognise snorts. Seungcheol, that’s what they called him the last time you saw him in the sound booth. 

“I’m worse,” she states. 

“Lorry?” you interrupt, arms crossed and gaze directed at her. 

“Lorry?” The one you don’t recognise says. “Like a truck?” 

“You think you’re funny?” Lorelai takes a step towards him, a fair attempt to look threatening if it weren’t for her very unthreatening attire. 

“Oh look at her pyjamas! It’s Pooh bear, Cheol,” he exclaims. That seems to irritate him. 

“Can you replay the track, please, I have to smooth things over,” you intervene. In your mind, ignoring their presence in your space was the best solution, refusing to give them a way to merge into your lane. 

“Woah, we have the rink booked today,” Seungcheol stops you. “4:30.”

Snapping around to find the clock on the adjacent wall, you read the time. “4:17. You can wait.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And thirteen minutes makes what difference?”

“You said 4:30. It is not 4:30 yet.”

The other one thumps him on the back, all smiles. “We can wait, right, Cheol? Besides, we have to put our skates on.” 

His gaze is hard and doesn’t leave yours. “Fine.” 

You break away first to find Lorelai still in the same position, staring at the exchange. You ignore the two men that stand there and address her, “Play the track.”

Before the music begins, you glance back to the benches where the two men have seated themselves, apparently strapping in to watch you. You dig your nails into your palm to reign yourself back in. No point in getting upset. 

The piano begins, and you're determined to not mess up. Especially not right now. 

It goes well for all of 45 seconds, you're hitting the right beats, you feel like water. But then the first jump comes along and you see a flash of red from the stands. An irrational feeling hits you as you push into the first jump, it’s enough to make you stumble when you land. You manage to not fall, but it’s obvious you’ve messed up. 

Somewhere beyond the music you hear a distinct, “Solid 4!”

It distracts you again, and you miss a move. Somehow your second jump ends up worse, and you feel your bottom hit the hard ice. 

“8 point 5! Nice!”

It doesn’t take long for you to realise what they’re doing, anger crashing into you like a flash flood. Scoring your falls? You’re determined to make the next jump combination. You make it fine, but your quad Salchow turns into a triple. The oafs are too shallow to notice, so you hear no jeer. 

But you know that you messed up the only quad in your entire program. 

The last jump goes from a triple axel to a double, and you want to break something. 

The song ends, and you know you have another nine minutes left to yourself, but all you can think about is getting out of the vicinity as soon as possible. Away from all of the eyes that are trained on your hunched form. 

There’s nothing you know about Seungcheol, and yet, the thought of him even looking at you right now is unbearable. Twice you fell, countless times you failed. 

Lorelai says nothing while you pack up, and nothing as you leave the rink. 

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, CENTER,” LORELAI reads aloud from your bed with her mouth still full of salt ‘n vinegar chips. 

“Perfect, he already thinks he’s the center of the universe,” you grumble from your position on the floor of the bedroom. Your foam roller feels like heaven under your calves, but the position is beginning to cramp. 

“Surprised you haven’t heard of him, he’s half a celebrity.” 

You turn to her, “I have two gold medals and five podiums for every major skating event.”

“Do I ask for your autograph?”

“He’s not special.”

“Hm. His skill and popularity would beg to differ.”

“Why are you so hellbent on liking him?” 

“Because he’s cute,” she grins wide. “Although the other one was cuter, very angel-like. And he liked my Pooh Bear trousers. Can’t find his name on the team roster though.”

“He was wearing the same stupid jacket—”

You’re cut off by a gasp, a loud one at that. “He coaches the babies!” 

Her face is contorted into something between an “aw” and a sob. 

Lorelai’s phone is dropped dramatically on the bed as she thrashes on your made (now unmade) bed. You swipe the phone and read. His picture is there, the name Yoon Jeonghan, Junior League Coach.

“Good for him.”

“He just got five times hotter,” she states like she’s out of breath. 

“Give it another meeting and he’ll give you five other reasons to hate him.”

“God, you’re so negative,” she huffs. 

“They’re hogging my rink!”

“It is not your rink.”

“It’s as good as!”

“Whatever.” Lorelai rolls her eyes and sets back on the bed, no doubt searching the man up by name. 

“Ow!” you yelp as you stand up from the ground, ankle twisting slightly in the process. 

Lorelai jumps. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumble quickly, hoping she’d drop it. But she catches your lingering stare on your bad ankle. 

“It’s still hurting, isn’t it?”

“I just twisted it weird,” you defend, walking to pack up your foam rollers. 

You’re met with silence, but you know she’s thinking. Lorelai speaks, “Maybe you should skip out on the shelter today.”

You snort, “Why would I do that?”

Once, sometimes twice a week, you’d volunteer at the local pet shelter. It wasn’t hard work, mostly taking the bigger, more energetic dogs for their runs because it seemed you were the only one who could keep up with their stamina. And now Lorelai is trying to take that away from you. 

“I saw how you struggled at the rink today, there’s not a day you don’t rest. Like, actually rest.”

“That has nothing to do with me struggling!” you retort. 

“What is it then?” she asks, sitting up straighter, defiance in her gaze. “What is it that’s making you skate like you bought your first pair yesterday?”

The irritation is growing into something hotter, her defiance pushing you into a corner. 

“I know what you want to hear from me.” Your voice is shaky. “I’m not going to say it.”

“Because it’s not true? Or because you’ve been convinced it’s not?” 

You know what she’s talking about, and you know you’ve been avoiding the topic like it’s the plague. The ache in your ankle comes alive, and in that moment, you cannot tell if you’re imagining it or not. 

“Convinced by who?” you snap, shoving the box of foam rollers under your desk. 

“Does that have to come from me too?” 

“Lorry, I don’t know what you want from me!” 

“I—”

There’s a knock on your door, loud and demanding. Wrenching it open, you find Marina behind it. 

She has a frown on her face. “You’re still here? I thought you were running with the dogs today?”

“It’s none of your business if she goes or not, Marina.” Lorelai’s tongue drips with venom most commonly reserved for her most hated people. 

Marina, still in her workout clothes and duffel bag, furrows her eyebrows. “Who shoved a pole up your ass?” 

“I’m leaving in five,” you hiss, before making a motion to close the door. 

When you turn around, Lorelai is still on your bed, hands in fists like she’s holding herself back. There’s more behind her eyes than you could even consider unravelling. 

She leaves before you. 

THE ENTIRE WAY TO the rink was just one constant string of prayer. 

All of them go unanswered when you walk in to find the rink full of hockey players in red and black gear. 

The only thing you can do is curse under your breath, only watching frozen in your tracks as a million players skate across the rink passing and yelling at each other. No one you recognise, their helmets and gear eluding any semblance of individuality. 

Where you stand, a little ways away from the plastic screen and the benches, a dark circular puck suddenly slams directly into the boundary at eye level. On instinct, you flinch at the loud bang, half expecting to get hit. 

When you open your eyes, somebody’s skating up to the boundary, and you lock eyes through the cage of his helmet. 

Your blood is suddenly charged with something electric, fingers curling into fists on instinct. 

Suddenly, all that rings in your ears is the distinct jeers of numbers over the muffle of plastic as you continue to fall, and fall, and fall on the cold, unforgiving ice. The amusement in your failure, the joy in your defeat. 

Spinning on your heel, you stalk to Hansol’s office. 

In your blinding anger, you take a wrong turn, looking up to realise you’ve walked into the locker rooms. You’re one step into the men's locker room when you come back to your senses, startling yourself once again as you spin back from where you came, only you’ve been caught. 

For all the luck you’ve received in this life, it seems to opt out at that exact moment as you hear the unmistakable noise of a herd of ogres walking in, the glare of red on the walls surrounding them. Frozen in your spot, you can only grip the straps of your duffel bag harder, tense up like you were preparing for impact. When they turn the corner, the brilliant idea of simply walking towards the women’s locker rooms befalls you. But it’s too late. 

Seungcheol saunters into the hallway, leading the pack. 

His helmet is in his hands instead of on his head, revealing a sopping mop of hair drenched in what you can only imagine is sweat. He’s laughing at his teammate who’s making futile attempts to escape his own helmet, not noticing you in the way. 

Until he does. His smile fades immediately, eyebrows raised as he registers you in the doorway. You feel his gaze on you for a few silent moments, his teammates shushing at the shift in the air. Seungcheol opens his mouth, and you already know all that’s going to leave it is dung. “Didn’t realise the rink had a vacancy. Do I need to show you my ID to take a shower?”

A rustle of chortles and chuckles flitter from the group. “Go ahead. I don’t need an ID to tell you need a shower.”

Somebody ooh’s, despite it not being your best work. You suppose it was your delivery that did it. Deciding to continue riding that high, you simply turn towards the women’s locker rooms, refusing to give Seungcheol the luxury of your eyes on him.

Hurtling into the women’s locker room, you throw your duffel bag somewhere you’ll regret and crumple into one of the seats. You count to ten, attempting to take the image of Seungcheol out of your brain. 

It was difficult to rile you up to this extent, a trait you needed to possess if you were to be coached by Carroll in any capacity. There was so much you heard from her mouth, swallowing it like a prescribed pill and nothing more. Take what you were given, because it was given by the best, bought for you by the best.

Yet for some reason, Seungcheol manages to irk you in ways you previously have never encountered. Irritating people come and go, but you doubt you could place him as something as simple as just irritating. His presence felt like an intrusion, his air was thick like a concentrated gas. Everything he’s said to you so far has come from nothing but disdain and condescension, his haughty personality the only takeaway when he enters a room. 

You’re still in your outdoor shoes and jacket by the time twenty minutes are over, coming to a conclusion as you get up from the empty, soulless locker room. Hansol is in his office when you make the formality knock before barging in. His head is on the desk, like he’s asleep. It takes him a second, by he lifts his forehead from the papers on the tabletop to regard you at the door. You hear him sigh. 

“The hockey team’s done. It’s two.”

“I wanna book a slot.”

“The rink’s empty you don’t—”

“Let me book the slot, Hansol.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re turning out worse than those baboons,” he curses before setting his forehead back onto the table. “Write it on the sticky note, I’ll put it in the schedule.”

“Now. I wanna book a slot for right now,” you grit. 

Hansol whips his head up again, eyes wide like he’s holding himself back, nodding furiously as he pulls his keyboard towards himself with an unnecessarily aggressive tug. “Fine. 2:16 till closing. Enter. Print. Here.”

He hands you the printed receipt of your slot, ripping it from the printer tray as he does it. You take it from him in the same vigour, hardly a thank you as you spin on your heels and walk out the door. You stop for a minute, turning back around to yell into the office. 

“Go home if you’re just gonna nap on your desk!” 

Not waiting for a response, you stalk towards the locker rooms. Within minutes you’ve tugged on your skates, laptop and shoes in each hand as you emerge out the tunnel to the rink. 

The ice is empty, mostly. Placing your laptop in the sound booth and your shoes under the benches, you step foot on the ice. They’re there, on the other end, sitting on the cold ice with their jerseys still on, eating what looks like cups of dippin dots. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan, you remember from Lorelai’s squealing, either don’t notice you on the ice, or simply choose not to. Because it’s easy as you skate up to them, gaining speed from across the rink, you slide to a stop, sending a perfect spray of ice from your skates, directly into their ice cream cups. 

Seungcheol’s full spoon hangs mid air, halfway to his mouth, now garnished with ice shavings. 

“Thought you’d have the respect to keep the dippin dots out of this,” Jeonghan comments, disbelief in his eyes as he looks up at you. 

“Ice is booked.” 

“What time?” Seungcheol asks. Your gaze flickers to the left side of his face, a nasty bruise blooming purple and blue that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“2:16. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past.”

“You’re only one person.” He’s significantly more annoyed than when you saw him outside the locker rooms just minutes ago. 

“And?”

“And…you have about 97% of the rink to yourself.”

You raise your brows, hands on your hips. “But I booked 100% of it. So I’m gonna need that plane of ice you’re currently sitting on.” 

“What if I don’t move?” Seungcheol presses. It’s menacing, the way he looks at you, like he’s a lion only waiting to be provoked. Maybe he’s already halfway there, because it sure looks like it. 

“We’ll find out another day,” Jeonghan sings before you can snap back, grabbing onto the collar of Seungcheol’s red and white jersey to yank him up. He continues to glare as he obliges with his friend’s tugs, nearly as angry as you are. “Let’s go, sport.”

You watch as they walk to the exit of the ice, realising they’re wearing their shoes instead of their skates. 

Jeonghan calls from the benches, right before he and Seungcheol move out of view. “Trash those for us, would you?” 

Their half eaten dippin dots cups, with the ice now melting on them remains on the floor of the rink. Once again, the unexplainable urge to kick something befalls you, hearing them laugh and talk from far away as they exit the rink behind their long gone teammates. 

You give in, swinging a leg over to kick the cups and spoons, dippin dots and plastic scattering across the ice. It’s another sprawl of mess you’ll have to clean up, but it feels good to ruin something of his, no matter how inconsequential. The empty rink encourages you, needing to scream so loud the plastic barriers crack and break. You know it’s impossible, but that doesn’t stop the urge. 

You channel it into the most aggressive warmups on ice you’ve ever done. Your spins are faster, your jumps higher. But this also means you crash heavier, fall harder. It’s then, sitting on the bench to take a break, breathing so heavy you can hardly sip your water, you find an unmistakable headline on your browser home page. 

Everything stops. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed center may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

BEFORE EVERYTHING, BEFORE YOUR ankle, before it began to feel like your world was crumbling at your feet, came the scar on your leg. 

In hindsight, it feels like it was the very thing that set the ball rolling, the beginning of your demise. 

Coach Carroll was only on her first handful of sessions with you, Lorelai and Marina, all of you still learning her quirks and expectations as a coach. 

It happened when you were on the sidelines, hanging over the boundary as Lorelai handed you a water bottle from the benches. Marina was practicing her routine, taking up most of the ice as Coach followed on the side. It seemed unclear, to this day, whether you’d drifted inwards on the ice as you sipped from the bottle, unaware. But when you felt the hot searing pain in your calf, there were only two people on the scene. 

Marina skated past, her free leg in the air, meeting your calf as she skated past, effectively slicing into your leg in a deep gash. Blood was wiped off the ice, your leg bandaged and wrapped. Not without Coach and her comments, of course. 

You heard her berate Marina from the other room, for moving closer to the boundary than what was required for her routine, heard the way she gave her the blame. And then she round up on you. 

“Idiot! No reason to be on the ice when you aren’t practicing, did you want it to be your ankles too?!” 

It was the first time you realised that Carroll was beyond your perception of the word demanding, her gaze remained in a high place, no regard for what it took to get there. Even if it meant destroying her skaters. 

Marina apologised. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t see you there, I would’ve dropped my leg—”

“It’s okay, Marina. Really,” you smiled through the still aching wound. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

She smiled a little too, “Lesson learned, I guess. Don’t loiter on the ice.” 

It was difficult to keep the smile from fading as you heard her say that.

“What shit apology is that?!” Lorelai yelled as soon as you mentioned it to her later. You cringe as you realise what slipped, and to whom it slipped to. 

“It’s the best I’m gonna get from her, Lorry. Honestly, I don’t care.”

“You’re out of service for a week till that slice heals and that’s all she has to give you?” 

Lorelai is breathing heavily, mostly because she’s been practicing her triple axels for her routine, but also because she’s extensively heated for you. You watch her from the benches. 

“Lorry,” you sigh. 

“Listen, I wanna win too but—”

“Are you trying to say she did it on purpose?” you ask. 

“No! Let me finish, woman,” she snaps. “I wanna win, you wanna win. We’re doing everything we can because we want to win—”

“So this was a subconscious attack?” you interject. 

“Fuck this, I’m leaving,” Lorelai begins to skate backwards and away, leaving you on the bench. 

“NO! Wait, okay, I’m sorry I won’t interrupt.”

“Too late.”

“Lorry! Lorelai!”

It wasn’t until you were back in your shared apartment, Marina out doing whatever while Lorelai hijacked your bed that she got to finish her sentence. She was rubbing ointment on a bruise while you changed the  bandage on your calf. 

“Her need to win is ruining her. And it’s like she’s taking us down with her. I know she doesn’t mean it like that, doesn’t want to hurt us. But she thinks this kind of hurt is good, if it’s the kind of hurt that pushes you to win.”

You cringed at the sight of the wound, still red and ugly. 

“She might not have meant to hurt your leg, but—don’t loiter on the ice? Really?”

“She only meant it as a reminder.”

“Exactly! You don’t need that reminder because I think you’ve learned better than anyone else to not stay on the rink when someone is practising. A couple weeks ago she made some stupid comment because I left the gym early. Nothing inherently rude, she’s never actually rude. But it was pointed anyway. I’ve been up since six in the morning I think I deserve slacking off a little, it was nearly midnight for fuck’s sake!” 

Cleaning the wound was taking everything you had, the need to hiss at the contact of the wet cloth was near abominable. 

“Her…her perception’s a little warped. But her heart’s in the right place!”

Lorelai had rolled her eyes, screwing the cap of her ointment tube back on with unnecessary force. “I never said it wasn’t, just—stop defending her! I’m sorry but half the reason she continues to act like this is because you listen to her.”

At that moment, you felt a little offended. Of course, Marina had her moments where she’d say something a little less than healthy, especially coming from a friend. But you’d always thought you handled it better than most. 

You met Marina when you were still only splotchy faced preteens, during a competition where she came second and you came third. She’d been skating for longer, so it was expected, but you also couldn’t conceal your surprise when you’d found the state of her later on. You were ecstatic simply because you managed to make it to the podium, but it seemed Marina’s tears held another thought process for her. 

You found her crying in the locker rooms later on, her coach who looked like she…should’ve been comforting her, but it was more like a stern talking to, to suck it up and work harder next time round. 

When you tried to help her, out came words you felt oh so strange coming from a stranger. “What do you know? You came third!”

It hurt. Possibly the first genuine stab of the feeling you’d ever felt. In the following weeks, when Marina apologised and you’d begun to build a friendship, you felt something peculiar. Practice sessions on the ice became harder, your two hour sessions were suddenly extending to four, sometimes five hours a day. All of it, your own doing. 

It was subconscious when it was happening, the silent tug of You came third! What you first considered an achievement became an intermediate step. 

If there was anywhere that you’d pinpoint the shift, from when figure skating went from fun to a responsibility, you’d pick that exact moment. When someone congratulated you later on, it wasn’t a big smile and a thank you.

“I only came third.”

Your calf healed and all that was left was a scar, but there in the discolouration of your skin, also lay a realisation. 

SEUNGCHEOL HOSTS ABSOLUTELY ZERO thoughts in his mind as he shoves the collar of his hoodie over his head. Slamming the door shut on the rest of his red SVT paraphernalia, he makes quick work of his hair, shoes on and out the door within the minute. Jeonghan is still fast asleep when he leaves, mouth open and drooling onto his pillow when Seungcheol walks into his room to let him know he’s leaving. 

Jeonghan might tag along to practice for the fun of it despite leaving his competitive hockey career behind him, but his distaste for 6 AM practice remains forever unchanged. He’d see him later though, on the rink lingering once the sun is higher in the sky and Jeonghan deems it less of a sin to be awake. 

Seungcheol leaves without a response from his friend. 

By the time he gets to the rink, most of the team has already geared up. The locker room is splotched with red, moving towards the back of the room to get to his own locker. They weren’t assigned, but he liked to have his claim. He had one in the old rink, the one locker everyone knew was his. And now he has one here, despite the temporary nature of the ordeal. The rest of the boys know to steer clear, as does he for the others who have their lucky spots. 

Mingyu bumps into his shoulder when Seungcheol is looking down, immediately whipping around to bow a full ninety degrees. He’s laughing as he apologises, not really sorry, but Seungcheol is too exhausted to humour him too much. 

He’d been up playing games all night, under the covers in the dark, his phone brightness up too high and his eyes too wide open. He could feel the regret when his alarm blared while it was still dark outside, his eyelids stuck together, refusing to open. It cost him fifteen minutes of warming up, but he’d make it somehow. 

Seungcheol can hear coach Mason’s booming voice from outside, moving closer and closer to hustle the rest of the boys out onto the rink. He shoves his foot into his skates, making sure all that’s left is to lace them up. 

“Look alive, boys! I want you on the ice within the minute,” he booms into the locker room. 

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. When he gets up to leave the locker rooms, his hockey stick and helmet in hand, he’s the last straggling few to leave. Chan earns himself a hard thump on the back from Coach as he scurries out. 

There’s a hand on Seungcheol’s chest as he’s about to exit, Coach stopping him from leaving. 

He looks up, expecting a hard look from Mason, ready to hear a mildly violent threat about being late to call time again. Except Seungcheol finds him with his own gaze on the floor. 

“Rink manager said I could use his office. We should talk there.”

Seungcheol could’ve said he knows what this was going to be about. The game last weekend had less than ideal results, not because they didn’t win, but more so because of the WWE level brawl that went down in the benches during one of the intermissions. 

He tenses, but it was more like he was squaring up. His shoulders are hard, his grip on his hockey stick tighter. Of course, he wasn’t about to swing at his coach, but one could say it was simply a subconscious response. 

The entire walk to the office, Seungcheol thinks of new ways Coach could address his issue. But the gist was always simple. 

Choi, stop fucking fighting. 

He’d usually just rip Seungcheol a new one in front of the boys, berate him and verbally throttle him in the hopes that he’d keep his anger under check. But as they turn towards the door to the office, Seungcheol has to remind himself that this was a first. Being led aside, like he was being led into some formal meeting. 

A plea deal, perhaps?

Choi, what is it going to take?

The office is barren, hardly looks like it’s used with how sparse the equipment is. The amount of dark brown gives it enough warmth to not make it look like some sick form of solitary confinement. That doesn't stop Seungcheol from feeling a hint of pity for whoever has to work here. There’s no nameplate. 

Coach doesn’t take a seat, opting to lean against the table in front of him instead. His arms are folded, and he’s not looking him in the eye. A crawl of suspicion creeps up Seungcheol’s neck, as though in an attempt to ambush him. 

It’s silent in the room as he waits for Coach to speak, refusing to be the one to break it. 

When he does speak, it’s not in his usual Coach voice. Without the built in bass and tremors he was born with. 

“There’s no easy way to break this,” he starts, eyes drifting up to somewhere on the barren walls. “But I’m gonna try my darndest.”

Finally, he feels Coach’s gaze lock with Seungcheol’s expecting pair. 

“They wanna drop you.”

“What?”

Coach squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s recalibrating. “Your contract is up by the end of the season. And the tie wearers and the shoe shiners don't wanna re-sign you.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean don’t wanna re-sign me, on what grounds?!”

“You’re temperament—”

“I’ve scored at least two goals for every game you’ve put me in, I’m your most consistent player!”

“They have no qualms with you when you’re on the ice.”

Seungcheol knows where this is going. He knows what knocked up alley this is turning to and he hates it. “Which is all that should matter.”

“In most cases.”

“Is this about last weekend? You didn’t hear him, he deserved more than a broken fucking nose—”

“I didn’t need to hear him, because I know. I know he’s a jackass, I know they’re all jackasses! They know that too. You need to learn to let things go, let them chirp—”

“He was coming on to my mother!” Seungcheol bellows, now properly angry. He remembers the guy’s name, Jason or something. 

“His coach came onto my entire bloodline when we were young, this is Kim’s strategy! You’re playing right into their hands like a dog! For fuck’s sake, Choi! Punching someone in the chiclets isn’t always the answer!” Coach Mason is shaking his hands in front of him like some violent prayer. 

Seungcheol drops his hockey stick and helmet, mouth open as he huffs and puffs. He wants to pace, wants to point his fingers at Coach and make a few threats of his own. 

“Just���”

Seungcheol rounds up on him. “Seungkwan punched a guy in the mouth. Wonwoo kicked one in the balls.”

“Seungcheol. This is becoming nearly. Every. Single. Game. Not the occasional tousle we can pull people out of. You can’t keep sending people to the hospital, it’s a wonder nobody's pressed charges yet!”

“So that’s it? I’m being punished because some dick runs his mouth?” 

“This is about you, Seungcheol. You need to get a fucking grip. You’ve started picking at your own teammates, shoving Mingyu around—seriously?”

Seungcheol’s mouth opens but nothing leaves it. He ends up gaping like a fish. 

For all that it was worth, for everything he’d been through, Seungcheol always assumed his seat was safe. Always assumed he’d have the position he does. Because he showed results, won them nearly every game and put up a damn good fight in the ones they didn’t. 

Seungcheol knew he was an asset, but not for one minute, stop to realise that this was all

conditional. 

For everything he did for this team, for every fiber of his being he poured into its chalice, they were spitting it all right back into his face. Chewed and warped and rid of anything worth salvaging. 

The red in his chest, back, stomach, spelling out the unmistakable letters of his team. The red in his helmet that rests beside the red in his hockey stick. 

“Listen, as much of a pain in the ass you are, you’re good fucking player. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters. But it’s not up to me, so we need to work around that. They’re worried about the repercussions of your behaviour. And you are gonna make sure you keep yourself in check.” 

Coach walks closer, finger digging into Seungcheol’s chest through his jersey. “I want no more fights, no more kicking and punching and swearing no matter how much that motherfucker deserves it, I don’t care. Do whatever it takes. God knows I’ll never forgive you if you make me agree to those prissy hands in suits.”

Coach left Seungcheol in the barren office, stepping over his stick and helmet as he exited the room, leaving him alone. His fingers flex under his gloves, like he’s trying to remind himself to stay in the moment. His exhales are stronger than his inhales, his vision blurring as the desk turns into two, and then disappears for a second. 

He can hear the distinct sound of the puck slamming into hockey sticks. Practice had started. By the time Seungcheol walks out, he’s the last person to go through the mandatory drills. 

The rink is mostly empty as the team gears up for a practice match, leaving Seungcheol enough reign to slam into every puck like he had some personal vendetta against every last one. It’s one after the other, sent directly into the open net, waiting. 

Practice goes fine, as good as it could go with the scrambled eggs that had become of Seungcheol’s mental state. He found himself whipping his head around to Jun when he fumbled an assist, face scrunched under his helmet as he prepared to send him to hell in a handbasket. 

He sees Jun physically tense up in defense, and the insult (for once) dies on Seungcheol’s tongue. 

“Just—keep up, alright,” he says instead. His tone is empty, and on a downward slope. 

If anyone finds it odd, they don’t say. 

It’s a couple more hours of passes, assists and hollers across the ice, regrouping the teams every so often to keep the rotation consistent. 

Over here, everyone is in red, everyone is on his side. The bleachers are empty, devoid of spectators to watch him lose his cool on anything. But he thinks of the way Jun recoiled, like he was preparing for the worst of his teammate’s words. He and Jun are friends. 

Somewhere amidst his thoughts, the puck flies directly into Seungcheol’s face, banging into the cage of his helmet with a noise that resonates across the rink. He’s startled enough to skate back a little, not before hearing another resounding thwack! from next to him. The puck rebounded from his helmet and hit the plastic barrier with a noise that had everyone looking over. 

Skating up to where the puck fell back onto the ice, he looks up to where it hit the barrier. 

Through the plastic he sees…you. You're staring at the same spot he is, where there’s a slight mark from the force of the rubber. 

And then your eyes drift up, locking with his own. 

Like every other person he’s around, he watches you tense up. But it’s laced with something more than just bracing for impact. 

It’s apprehension, your form turbulent and agitated. It’s all he can see when you spin on your heels and walk away in the opposite direction from him. 

The all too familiar irritation sparks in the back of Seungcheol’s mind, as it does when you’re around. All he does is slam his stick into the ice with force, pushing the puck back into the middle of the rink. 

They’re nearly done by that point, and he finds that Jeonghan has graced himself in the benches. He’s wearing his old jersey, likely because he doesn’t want Coach to notice him and accuse him of distracting his players. 

Jeonghan would’ve gotten away with it anyway. 

Seungcheol tells him to wait up, walking towards the locker room with the rest of the rest of the team to wash up. He finds some reprieve in Seungkwan’s attempts at fumbling with his helmet, letting out a laugh as he fights with it. Looking up as they take the turn towards the locker rooms as a group, he somehow finds himself in your presence, again. 

It’s the same thing, like you’ve been connected to a faulty circuit and you’re trying not to show it. You look like you want to say something but all Seungcheol can do is send a snarky remark of his own. 

Even as you walk away after the ordeal, he feels anything but settled. 

It’s like the world has it out for him, because as he opts to stalk back to where Jeonghan was, forgoing a shower, there’s only another calamity waiting for him. 

Jeonghan is in the rink, sitting on the ice with two cups of what looks like dippin dots. He looks up when he hears his treads on the ice, having taken his skates off already. Seungcheol crumples to the ground and on the ice next to his friend. 

The first words he utters are the only ones that’ve been on his mind all day. “They want to drop me.”

Jeonghan only grimaces in response, only running his hands through his hair as he sighs loudly. “I know. I heard.”

Seungcheol perks up, head lifting from the ice. “...How?”

That’s how Seungcheol has Jeonghan’s phone so close to his face he’s hardly an inch away from the screen. He reads and reads and reads. And his blood boils and boils and boils. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed centre may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around though, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

Of course, to add to the absolute media pandemonium, you had shown up on the rink itself after Seungcheol had to read through the entirety of that stupid article. Jeonghan was smart to pull him away from the situation before he wrapped both his hands around your neck in an ultimatum. 

The way you stood there, hip popped like you owned the damn place, face haughty and demanding. You stood while they sat, looking down at Seungcheol like he was some pesky ant. There was nothing he would’ve rather done in that moment than swing his leg clean across your ankles, and watch in delight as you crash onto the ice in front of him. 

“What the fuck is her problem?” he grits as soon as he’s in the locker rooms. Collecting his things to leave and take a shower at home. 

Jeonghan walks behind him, hands in his pocket in idleness as he watches his friend pack up. He’s humming a tune that’s possibly too familiar to Seungcheol. “Hm. She does seem a little wound too tight.”

“Wound too tight?! I’ve seen her thrice just today and every single time she looks like she wants to skin my fucking hide!”

Jeonghan only snorts. “Thing two isn’t any better. She’s cute though.”

Seungcheol whips around. “Who gets that territorial over a sound booth?!”

“Down, boy,” Jeonghan soothes, half in jest. “Surprised she isn’t here today either.”

“Yeah, you’d like to see her.”

“I would, actually, yes. What was her name?”

“Something to do with a train or a bus or something—”

“Lorry! Right,” Jeonghan furrows his brows. “I don’t think that’s her real name.”

Seungcheol throws his duffle bag over his shoulder as he motions he’s done. “I don’t think anyone who actually loves their child would name them after a bus.”

Jeonghan halts in his steps. “My dead dog’s name was Lorry.”

Seungcheol is extra nice for the rest of the way home. 

SEUNGCHEOL CAN'T SLEEP.

His dreams are full of voices, of every single teammate he’s ever had. The junior league, his high school team, up to his college team, and finally, his team right now. 

They’re all murmuring like they were paid to do it, uttering the same things, over and over. He doesn’t belong here, they don’t want him here, he doesn’t deserve what he has. 

And with the way his heart is racing when he jolts awake, cold sweat and all, he realises he’s kicked his blanket off of him sometime during the night. He looks over to his alarm clock that glares bright in the dark of his room; 5:08 AM.

He doesn’t need to be up, but it seems his own subconscious has given him a good enough scare to make sure every last essence of sleep escapes him. He lays on his back, catching his breath like he just ran a marathon. 

Seungcheol hasn’t woken up from a nightmare like this since middle school, one that knocks the breath from his lungs and fills his head with all the horrible things in the world. With every moment that passes after that conversation with Coach Mason, his ordeal becomes increasingly real. 

In that moment, laying in his bedroom, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above, he wonders if he’s made the right choice to come this far. 

With all the confidence he’s exuded, the thought is downright terrifying. 

Seungcheol was a difficult child. Too much energy, too much to say, too much to do. His parents didn’t know the first thing about hockey, just that it involved enough hitting and running and practice to let their son let out all that pent up energy, so maybe, just maybe, he’d sit still and do his homework. While they attempted to sign him up at the local rink, he was already zooming out towards the benches to see the fabled giant block of ice his parents told him about. 

And there it was, just like in the movies, a giant expanse of ice that made him shiver even in his thick Winnie The Pooh puffer vest. There’s sounds, loud ones, of deep clacks that echo across the rink. It seems to be coming from the dozens of people skating on the rink, decked out in red gear. 

SVT, he reads on their jerseys. 

His mother chides him for straying when they finally find him near the gate, watching the team practice. The rink manager is there as well, showing his parents around. 

“The SVT’s practice here and have a junior league too, but I’m afraid it’s full. But our coach is great too, I’m sure he’ll do well.”

Seungcheol’s parents didn’t mind, but he wanted those jerseys, wanted his name in red splashed across his back as he glided across the ice. 

It didn’t take long for his coach and his parents to realise that putting him in a helmet was a good idea. He was smoking the rest of the kids from day one, his balance on the ice better than any other his age, his hold on a hockey stick like second nature, his aim as he hit his first puck, dazzling. 

As he got older, entering his preteen and teen years, he had another realisation. That he was as horrible at school as he was good at hockey. 

“Perhaps you should take a break from hockey,” his high school guidance counsellor had said. His grades were displayed in front of her like a case study, the hopeless clear in her intermittent sighs and the occasional purse of her lips. “Utilise that time to fix at least one of your grades. Pour all your eggs in one basket.”

The thought was absurd. No, he would not be dropping hockey when it was the only thing that pushed him to wake up in the morning. 

He’d felt the tremble of irritation rise in himself, sitting there in that office. It angered him, made him feel like his success was measured by a criteria not made for him. He had said nothing as he slipped out of chair and left the room. 

The day before his graduation, sweat dripping onto the ice as he sent free pucks into the net, he was missing more than he was getting in. It was making him more mad than it should, hands shaking with fury as he berated himself for not being able to succeed in something so simple.

His last puck was before him, and he swung his stick harder than ever and watched as it flew directly into the net. The sound is louder than usual, resonating across the rink. Seungcheol looked down at the detached pieces in his hand and quickly realised that he’d effectively broken his hockey stick.

It wasn’t expensive, so the quality wasn’t nearly what it should be, wasn’t nearly as durable. But this was new to him. He’d never broken a stick before. 

Anger. Perhaps that was what he'd forgone, perhaps that was what he needed. To get on his knees from his back, to get on his feet from his knees. 

When he graduated the next day, Seungcheol knew what he was going to do with his life. Finally had an answer for the infinite questions about his future. 

Hockey. Seungcheol was going to play hockey for the rest of his life. He was going to get into SVT, he was going to become the best player they’ve ever had. He was going to make more money than what he would have as a doctor or a lawyer or whatever else the entire world wanted him to do instead. 

Seungcheol was going to be on the ice wearing red if it’s the last thing he does. 

That’s what pushes him out of bed at 8:45 in the morning, his dream that was once in his hands now flitting through the gaps of his fingers. 

The anger that pushed him here, was now pushing him out. 

He packs his things and leaves the house, welcoming the cold of the outdoors. 

There’s the distinct sound of blade cutting through ice when he gets nearer to the rink itself, a shout of a shrill voice he can’t decipher. Official practice doesn’t start for another couple hours, and he doesn’t remember Coach Mason cutting the pitch in his voice for anything ever. There’s only one other person that could possibly be gracing the rink.

Seungcheol finds three people on the rink. The bright red curly mop of hair catches his eye first, her arms folded over her green puffer jacket, apprehension in her entire posture. He assumes this is your coach. 

There’s a blonde one breathing heavily as she straightens out of a spin, listening to the coach as she shakes her head violently as she speaks. 

Seungcheol finds you a little ways away from the pair, practising jumps. 

He doesn’t emerge into the benches, remaining in the shadows where he wouldn’t be so blaringly obvious. There’s no reason for him to hide, but he doesn’t think of this as hiding. 

Seungcheol watches for the next few minutes, watches you make most of your jumps, fall for some. Your coach shouts for particular names for jumps, something about axels and lutz’ that he can’t tell the difference from when put into action. At least he thinks that’s what you’re doing. 

And then he hears it as your coach moves closer to the barriers. “What’s gotten into you? Keep acting this stupid and I’ll excuse myself from the job, I have better people to coach.”

Her tone, her words, the sharp edge of her tongue, it’s all triggering a very specific part of Seunghceol’s brain. 

“Is it your ankle? Because if it is, then I’m here to tell you to get out of your own head. Your ankle is fine, you wouldn’t be able to get on the ice at all if it wasn’t.” 

There it comes. Those words aren’t directed towards Seungcheol, nor could they apply to him in any capacity. But the way this coach is speaking is making him irrationally angry. 

“Are you gonna keep pretending you have a handicap? Because if you are then I have no work here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

For whatever reason, the sound of you apologising makes the fire rage doubly. It’s enough to blur his vision, enough to make him question what on earth this coach could have on you to let her speak to you in that way. 

The choice words are already in his head as he claps back in his own head, like he was the one at the receiving end. 

He doesn’t stay, disappearing even further into the tunnel to where the locker rooms are. He doesn’t understand why he’s huffing and puffing as much as he is. All that occupies him is what possible reasons you could have to just take it lying down. 

Seungcheol’s phone vibrates in his pocket, slipping it out to realise it’s Jeonghan. 

He picks up, and barely has time to say hello before his voice perks up from the other line. “Where are you?” He sounds like he just woke up. 

“I’m at the rink.”

“Why is your angry voice on?”

“My angry voice is not—” he begins to grit, seething, but closes his eyes and takes a moment. “I’m not mad.”

“Do I need to sing?”

“No, you do not have to sing—”

“Everything is honey—”

“Jeonghan, stop!”

“—everywhere I see—”

Seungcheol hangs up before he can go on. To his utmost irritation, he feels significantly calmer. 

The rink is devoid of your red headed coach when Seungcheol makes his way there after a few minutes. The blonde one is nowhere to be seen, leaving you alone in the rink as you skated across the expanse. He only watches as you land the couple attempts at jumps, the ice breaking ground in a spray every time you put pressure on your blades. 

Seungcheol is just standing there, blank faced with an empty head. His mind was quiet for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing there, standing idle as he follows your figure around the rink like a fixation point. 

The sound is more consistent, less of the loud jabs of hockey sticks meeting the ice, more constant lines of scraping as you migrate across the rink. The speakers boom no sound, but the musicality in the noise of the ice is enough to imagine a rhythm. 

No part of him desires getting on the ice to oust you out, no part of him wants to touch his hockey stick that sits in the locker room. He doesn’t need extra practice, not with hockey at least. 

And when you notice him, unmoving in the benches, he watches as something hard overcomes your expression. You skate over, and he keeps his gaze fixated on the ice.

Skating up to the gate, he sees in his peripheral vision as you slip on your skate guards, stepping out into the real world. 

“You don’t have the rink booked, I checked,” you huff, moving to find your things on the other set of benches. 

Seungcheol’s jaw tenses. “I don’t want the rink right now.”

“And yet the ghost loiters.”

“I’m here to tell you to start filling in the stupid craters your skates make in the ice. The guys keep tripping.” 

“You big hockey thugs getting defeated by a toe pick?” 

Seungcheol turns to finally look at you, and you look nothing as graceful as you did on the ice. He wants to scoff. 

You continue, “I have to deal with your stupid barriers fucking up my sound system. I think your guys can deal with a couple digs in the ice.” 

“Great, we’ll just lose a couple teeth, who really gives a fuck.” 

“If this is about giving fucks,” you get up from your water break, leaving the bench. “Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't."

Seungcheol’s entire being is ablaze. He reshuffles his footing. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” you repeat, voice moving a pitch higher. “My fucking problem is that you and your overgrown posse of baboons drop in here out of the blue and then act like you own the damn place!”

“Right, because it’s your name on the fucking lease. Excuse us for trespassing on public property!”

You’re yelling. Seungcheol is yelling. It’s either that or the hollow of the rink is now carrying your voices farther out. 

“I’ve had enough of you acting like you don’t take up this entire fucking space!” Your arms wave wildly, gesturing to the large area of the rink. “You’re everywhere, all the fucking time, it’s sickening!”

“Everywhere, huh?” He takes a step closer to you. And then another. He revels in the sight of your face turning a splotchy red. “Thought I was only a bother on the ice? Where else have I been plaguing you in mystic hallucinations?”

Seungcheol’s eyes give away nothing but provocation. He knows he didn’t start this, but in the true essence of who he is, he would be the one to end it. 

It’s clear you’re taken aback. At this moment, he’s the closest he’s ever been to you. But it’s for nothing if it isn’t to press on you further, to tower over you and your outburst. 

“Get your head out of the gutter, you brute.”

“Then is it not me taking up all your space?” he asks. “Because there’s three feet of air between us, and yet the least in our very short time together.”

He watches as you take a small step back.

“So where else have I been any closer, so consistently, if it wasn’t part of your imagination?”

There’s a certain kind of venom in your stare, in the sneer that lifts your mouth, enough to ensure that it’d render him six feet deep. But he lives in reality, so he deems it safe to take another step closer. 

“You’re a screw up,” you almost whisper. Appalled and scandalised. 

“So I’ve been told,” Seungcheol breathed. “But something tells me we’re not so different in that department.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that I’m all you can think about,” he says, eyebrows raised. “That feels like a lot. You’d agree, because everywhere, all the fucking time is a lot.” 

Seungcheol has hardly finished his sentence before he feels the light breeze of you gathering your few things, shouldering him hard and walking away from him. Into the tunnel, into the locker rooms, into hell, wherever it was that you ended up by the close of the day. 

He isn’t afraid to admit that he stumbled.

LORELAI HAD MADE IT quite clear that any figure skating talk was off the table, and talk surrounding Marina even more so. You tried not to point out the obvious predicament, but the fact that you lived with Marina did not affect her demand. 

Miraculously, not talking about skating or Marina was the most free you’d felt in ages. It was mildly embarrassing in the beginning, when on a run with Lorealai who was also helping out at the dog shelter, because you realised all you talked about was, maybe not Marina, but definitely a lot of skating. 

You slow down a little to give Kkuma a couple minutes to breathe, but Lorealai is still running at her pace with her significantly more energetic husky, Bennie. 

“Stay there, I’ll catch up!” she yells over her shoulder as she takes the left around the block to circle back. 

You oblige, moving to a walking pace as Lorelai appears from behind you after a couple minutes. She slows to a jog and loiters around you for a minute, you increase your speed to match hers. 

“Jeonghan…” she pauses to take a breath. But your interest is piqued, especially if she was talking about the same Jeonghan you were thinking about. “Jeonghan invited me to the game this weekend.”

Hold. 

“What?” you snap.

“Game. This weekend,” she huffs, still breathing heavily. 

“Like, a hockey game?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“No, for disney on ice,” she announces. “They’re doing beauty and the beast, Jeonghan’s the beauty, Seungcheol is the beast. It’s a whole production, really. Real good stuff.”

You can only roll your eyes at the elaborate sarcasm. She continues, “Of course, it's a hockey game! What else do they do at that rink all day?”

“Gosh, sorry,” you frown. “Since when do you talk to Jeonghan?”

She looks over, wicked smile on her face. “Since I found him on Instagram.”

“You followed him?”

“No, why would I do that? Bumped into him at the gym a while ago, and we went out for coffee afterwards.”

Nothing of the ordeal is making sense, your brows still knit together and your mouth downturned in confusion. 

“Catch you in a minute!” she yelps as she takes off into a run again, Bennie right next to her as she circles round again. 

The few minutes that it’s just you and tiny Kkuma are flooded with questions. How did she just bump into Jeonghan? Lorelai hardly goes to the gym. Asking her to come to the hockey game? 

And then worst of all. 

Are they dating? 

By the time Lorelai is back, she’s out of breath again, and fully unequipped to answer all of the questions you shoot at her like rapid fire. 

“Why were you at the gym? He’s a junior league coach, he’s not even gonna be playing!”

“God!” she groans, heaving. “Slow…down.”

“Fine!” You stop in your tracks entirely, to which Lorelai is happy to oblige as she crouches with her hand on her knees. Bennie tugs at her leash, the big bounding ball of fluff ready to race the winds again. 

You count to ten, hands on your hips as Kkuma lets out a small, confused yip now that you’re completely idle on the track. 

“Talk.” 

With an all too dramatic flip of her short hair, she pulls herself up and into an explanation. “I couldn’t tell you because we weren’t talking when it all happened.”

It’s true, it did take a while for you to go back to normal after that run in with Marina in your bedroom. You suppose it won’t be happening again with the new no-Marina-talk rule, since she seemed to be quite the common factor in many of your rifts over the years. 

“I went to the gym to blow off some steam—don’t look like that, I’m being serious!” 

You make an attempt at fixing your face as she continues. 

“He saw me first and came up to say hi. Went our separate ways but once we finished up he asked if I wanted to grab a coffee since we were both done working out.” 

“And you said yes?”

“I said yes. Because he is cute, and I had been stalking his very public Instagram and it was just the perfect opportunity!” 

“So you’re dating?” you ask sharply. 

“I don’t know.”

“He asked you to the game?” you point out. 

“Well, yes, but he hasn’t asked me asked me.” Somewhere in her voice there’s the tiniest hint of disappointment. “Besides, he said to bring you as well.”

“Fuck no.”

“Come ooon! Jeonghan’s gonna be in the benches and I don’t know anyone else there!” she whines. 

“Hey, we should switch dogs!” you announce as you yank Bennie’s leash out of Lorelai’s hands, stuffing  Kkuma’s leash into her free hand. 

You take off into a sprint, and Bennie is happy to keep up with you as you quite literally run away from the situation. Lorelai is yelling your name, her annoyance abundant. 

Ignoring her is easy. Just the thought of walking into one of those games is enough to force a scoff, to watch your rink inhabited with like minded buffoonery as they ruin the bleachers and the ice. 

By the time you make it back, the hilarity of the situation hasn’t left you. And it seems neither has Lorelai, who remains standing with Kkuma at her feet, waiting to trap you. 

It’s the easiest thing to do, to turn right back around and circle the other way. 

“You can’t run away from me forever!” she shouts behind you as you disappear again. 

Maybe you couldn’t, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“You can’t run away from Seungcheol forever! Quit pretending like you aren’t dying to fall into those giant arms!” Lorelai has a very specific talent of injecting all the drama in the world in the tone of her voice. She’s sure to utilize that skill as she hollers after you. 

That seems to do it for you, slowing down, half ready to whip around and holler a profanity or two right back. 

You’re more triggered than usual, but mostly because all the jab does is remind you of the last time you saw him. The arrogance in his demeanor, the way he belittled you with just his eyes, the shadow of his towering frame, caging you like a lost animal. 

You hated it. Despised it. Despised him. His disgusting innuendos, the all so misleading innocence on his face as he cornered you with both his body and his words. 

Lorelai could deal you whatever card there was tied up her sleeve, but getting you anywhere near the rink for the game this weekend was going to require more than just dessert bribes and sweet talking. Dragging you by the ankles could be a possibility, but all for naught when you dig your nails in anyway. 

It was impossible. Not doable. Non-existent in the cards of your destiny. A repelling force. 

So why, would one ask, were you decked out in the most  heinous red scarf with the letters SVT stitched on like a warning, sitting in the bleachers and looking down at the same rink you practice your spins and jumps in everyday? 

Neither you or Lorelai could answer that question, both your stories as blurry as fog as to how either of you managed to get you in that fabled seat. 

You could see the exact place you and Seungcheol had your last showdown, the opposing team in black now occupying that side of the benches. The thought puts you in an impossibly sour mood. It’s not like Lorelai could say anything about it, half because she knows you’re one snide remark away from jumping into the merch table, and half because she was too busy making heart eyes at Jeonghan who’s just spotted her in her seat. 

“I’ll be back,” she informs haphazardly as she positively bounds down the steps to the end of the bleachers, where Jeonghan waits for her. The people in their seats shuffle, annoyed at the overenthusiastic fan who practically slides down in front of their legs towards the railing. But Lorelai couldn’t care less, not with what stood beyond that very railing. 

Tearing your eyes away from the lovebirds, you take in the hustle and bustle of the pregame happenings, most of the bleachers in disarray as they humour the merch stands and the food stalls. The rink smells different because of it, both the added number of food trucks and drink stands, but also with the amount of people that occupy the expanse. 

The only times you see the rink this packed is when you’re too wracked with nerves to notice anything other than your own two feet. Hands wringing and head spinning, the chaos of the world is nothing against the pandemonium in your mind. You’re usually wearing a sparkly dress that glitters even from the very last row of bleachers, hair taut and makeup caked on like a layer of icing. 

Taking your time, you let your eyes flit over all that you forgo the other times. The stands are a mix of red and black, and so are the benches and ice that are occupied by men in full hockey gear. 

You’re too high up to make out the names on the back of all those jerseys, let alone a face underneath the already concealing helmets. The problem is forgotten when you feel the weight of two hands slam against your folded arms, tugging you out of your seat like it was stolen property. 

“Jeonghan said we could sit closer to the benches downstairs!” Lorelai is frantic, like this wasn’t a matter of reserved seats but the last plane to leave hell itself. 

“Lor—” Finishing a sentence when she’s in this state is a luxury you learn quickly to live without, because all that concerns her right now is getting closer to the man that seems to have enraptured her like never before. 

It’s disgusting. But you follow her anyway, down the steps that you nearly eat shit on, gracefully of course, because what figure skater doesn’t fall with an epic crash worthy of an Expendables cameo. You stabilise yourself enough to get to the seats Lorelai is talking about, and sure enough, Jeonghan would barely have to get on his tiptoes to hoist himself into the bleachers altogether. You question the safety of the context but decide that it wasn’t your problem if someone decided to pounce on one of the players. 

Besides, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t revel in the absolute scene of Seungcheol getting jumped by an over-passionate fan. You’re suddenly very grateful for the front row seats. 

There’s a bucket of chicken tenders and fries in your lap out of nowhere, matching the one in Lorelai’s hands. “Also Jeonghan?” you hum as you inspect the sauce options. 

“Mhm, he’s friends with the vendor outside,” she grins. 

You narrow your eyes at the revelation, finding it utmost strange how close he seems to be with nearly everyone. “Why is he on the benches, again?” you ask. 

“Because—” she draws before you cut her off. 

“Friends with the coach?”

“How’d you know?!” she exclaims. Her attention is diverted as the speakers suddenly boom with something other than generic pop music. So is yours, when you hear a deep baritone of a commentator’s voice carries throughout the rink. 

The shuffle around you is suddenly doubling in speed, everyone getting into their seats. You look over in front of you, where the benches are in an equally panicked shuffle. You spot Jeonghan easily, mostly because he’s one of the few in the vicinity without a helmet or what looks like a giant space suit. The next thing you note is the person he’s talking to, his back turned to you, but familiar all the same. 

CHOI, 95, reads his jersey. Automatically, your jaw clenches.  “Don’t look over there!” Lorelai chides, grabbing your jaw and moving it to force you to rip your eyes away from him. 

“Lorelai, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but unlike your boy toy, he’s actually gonna be on the ice,” you verbalise through clenched teeth. 

“Don’t look at the ice,” she blurts. 

Rolling your eyes, you only listen as she realises what she’s said. “Okay, um, look at Jeon instead! Or Kim, or Boo, just. For god’s sake, there’s fifty other players on the ice, just don’t let one of them ruin your night!” 

“I’m fine,” you grumble, sinking into your seat. 

It isn’t long before your eyes trail over anyway, and Seungcheol still doesn’t have his helmet on. You can see his face now, and he looks like he’s mad at Jeonghan about something. 

Inevitably, your mind wanders to the fated article that somehow made its way into your recommended, the certainty it put in you that Seungcheol didn’t stand a chance in his team anymore. It seemed true enough, his anger, that he continues to display, seemed to be his default emotional setting. 

Your hockey knowledge was subpar at best, but one thing you did know was the aggression factor of the sport. Of all the things that could cut his career clean down the middle, this was the last of your guesses.  

Even now, as you watch him absentmindedly point and jerk like his supposed friend had managed to bring him something that was personally offensive, it’s all connecting too well. 

But when you snap into reality, you realise very quickly that he was pointing…at you. 

Seungcheol is mad that Jeonghan (effectively) brought you to the match. 

A chortle of disbelief is quick to make itself known, wanting to yell across the throng that you were every bit as upset that he was in your vicinity too. It also brings you satisfaction, a pure grain of hope, that maybe this would be enough for him to completely fuck up on the ice today. 

You say a quick amen before the baritone of the commentator makes itself known again. The echo is too much for you to decipher what’s going on, but you have your answer when you watch the reds and the blacks form what looks like a line across the width of the rink, right in the center. 

You don’t register when the puck landed, or if it was always there, just that the loud clacks and bangs are in tandem with the cheer from the crowds. The puck is an impossible commodity to keep up with, even with just your eyes. It appears for a moment before it’s lost again, shooting around in your peripheral vision like a pesky fly you can never get a hold of. 

“What is happening?” you whisper to yourself. 

Lorelai answers anyway, snorting, “Fuck if I know.”

The numbers on the lit screens are doing nothing to help out your predicament, too much happening for you to even begin to deconstruct. You choose to lay back and enjoy your chicken tenders and fries, complimenting the sauce choices to Lorelai along the way, who continues to calibrate her attention on the man that remains in the benches. Jeonghan looks over periodically to send her a wave and a blinding smile. 

You’ve made a good enough dent in your chicken and fries bucket by the time it’s intermission, about ready for a drink by now. Lorelai makes herself useful and runs down to get you both something, mostly because Jeonghan was now more focused on the team that’s huddled around one another, another man you assume is their coach huddled right with them. 

The scores are 2-2, as provided by the person behind you who was apparently sick of your placid obliviousness. It did feel slightly awkward to be the only person not as excited to be front and center, so you remind yourself to thank him profusely. 

Your attention drifts back to the benches, inevitably as you’ve been so unfortunately placed to be able to breathe down the player’s necks. They’ve dispersed from their huddle, but are not yet on the ice. They’re sitting down, catching their breaths, drinking from water bottles. On the other side, the opposing team, a sea of black and white flooding their own end of the benches. It’s a sinking colour, not an ounce of depth in the shade. It’s taking over the benches. 

Except it’s the players that are moving, like they’re diffusing into the scarlet territory. 

You watch, as one player in black moves his mouth, speaking, upturned and eyebrows cocked. It’s clear he’s gone well past enemy lines, the front lines suddenly at attention. There’s not much you can make out, nothing much besides the very haughty expression on the player’s face. His eyes are covered by the sweaty mop on his head, but you don’t need to see them to find the malice that infiltrates his entire stance.

The scene, where both sides seem to be closing in on each other, has you automatically sitting up straighter. The air is going static, especially as you realise the player's mouth is moving faster as he jabs at — Seungcheol. 

They’re fighting, only verbally for now, but it’s undeniable the way the heat grows by the second. All you can see is the back of Seugncheol’s jersey as he begins to step back from the ordeal, like he was fighting the urge to take a step forward instead. 

Jeonghan’s hand is on Seungcheol’s elbow, and one glance at the rest of the players on this side shows every last one on edge. Their coach is nowhere to be seen. 

But he doesn’t stop talking, still standing in their territory. He yells something loud enough to hear the pitch of his voice, but not nearly enough to understand what he’s saying. 

You could see it on the player’s face. Hook, line and sinker. 

It happens so suddenly. Seungcheol surges forward like a dart, something flies out and hits the player square in the face. 

Seungcheol had spat his mouth guard into his face. 

You gasp out loud as you register what’s happening. The player removes his hand from his face, and for some reason, emerges grinning. 

Seungcheol swings first, his fist rising and coming down on his cheek with a sound you can hear. You feel nauseous. 

It’s pandemonium. You can see Jeonghan practically on top of Seungcheol, a number of other players attempting to get him off the man he continues to grab and shake up like a fugitive. The other player is throwing his own punches.

For one, horrifying moment, the force of the punch pushes Seungcheol’s face towards the stands enough to let you get an eyeful. All you see is red, beyond just his jersey. His mouth is full of blood, the front of his jersey dripped with it, his knuckles clustered with it. 

The hand clasped around your mouth is your own, eyes blown in horror. 

All around you, the world has their phones out like it was some show meant just for them, like this was exactly what they came here for. 

It’s sickening. Sickening. 

You brave another look, and they’ve been yanked off of one another. Seungcheol is being pushed down the tunnel and away from sight. Jeonghan has his hands clutched around Seungcheol like he’s nearly ready for another outbreak, his face grim. 

Your eyes keep away from Seungcheol’s face on purpose.  “Goodness, what is going on, I could barely get through the crowd,” Lorelai’s irritated voice infiltrates your ears, and you’re immediately brought back down to earth. 

Arms full of more snacks and drinks, it only takes her one look at your rattled self to know. 

“What happened?”

“I…they were…fighting. I don’t know, it just—Seungcheol was throwing punches and there was…blood, so much blood.”

She’s gotten a grip on your hand, her fingers warm under your cold, shivering ones. “Do you wanna leave?” she asks slowly. 

One look over her shoulder is enough to tell you it’d be impossible. Everyone was too excited to care to cater to two people going in the opposite direction of the action. So you tell her there was no point, and you attempt to calm your racing heart as she sits next to you. 

Snagging one of the packs from her mountain of snacks, you rip it open and let the sickly sweet smell infiltrate your nostrils. Popping one of the confections in your mouth, it’s hard to not make a face. It’s the sourest thing you could’ve picked, the tartness enough to distract you from the outside world. Eyes scrunched closed, you swallow the rush of saliva to ask Lorelai what the fuck she brought.

You chortle, and it has Lorelai looking over. “Whoops! That one’s mine.”

She snags the bag from your loosened grip, replacing it with a tamer bag of original flavoured potato chips. The chips are trying, but there’s not much you can do besides wait for the residues of the godawful candy to subside. 

The ordeal seems to have calmed you the slightest bit, finally able to turn back to the ice. The rink is back to being occupied, players from both ends pouring onto the ice. You note a minor shoulder shove at the gate, but look away like it’d stop the calamity from intensifying. 

The game ensues as normal, but you note the blatant absence of CHOI in the sea of red and white jerseys. You don’t mention it, and neither does Lorelai. 

You’re about to burst by the time the finals moments are upon the game, the overtime minutes beginning to tick as the crowd grows restless by the second. With the little you’ve managed to grasp, you’re sure that SVT is only one goal away from the overtake. It’s making you nervous, like you’re waiting for your own score to be announced after a free skate. 

The puck is a mere percentage easier to navigate after a couple hours of keeping after it; it skips between players you’re beginning to recognise from the back of their jersey. Kim, Boo, Wen, Kim, Lee. The opposing team intercepts for a moment, and you find yourself letting out an irritated shake of the shoulders. Back to Kim, Lee, Lee, and then, right into the net. 

The jittering crowd suddenly went so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

And then the world around you erupts. It’s impossible to classify the sound as cheers when racketeers off your entire being like an unearthly sound, the stands on their feet hollering and screaming and yelling at their players that are fighting to keep their new overtake in the final seconds before the game officially ends. 

And when it does, you’re sure you need to get your ears checked out. 

Looking over, you catch Lorelai’s eye, and you can’t help but laugh. A delightful laugh that releases itself in the midst of the chaos of red, scarlet and cherry. Somebody’s thrown a red blanket over you, another has begun to hand out congratulatory cherry lollipops (you pass, but Lorealai would be damned if she did), people are hugging each other so tight and you get the inkling they’ve only met each other today. 

The ice is one giant dogpile, red on red as they suffocate one another in celebration. 

Perhaps you didn’t realise how important the game actually was, or maybe every game is like this, loud, proud and exultant. You find yourself imagining how they feel. 

The lost feeling of bouquets and flowers whisked in your direction, stuffed animals and hundreds of other things that scream adoration as your performance comes to a close. It’s a physical manifestation of an adoring crowd, as though making it tangible makes it a little more real. 

The rush, you can feel it resonate off of the scarlet side of the benches, and it’s enough for you to realise that yes, this was an important match. For them anyway. 

The way out of the rink is reasonably packed, but you manage to squeeze through the doors and towards where Lorelai had parked with fewer than expected obstruction. “Thought you might wait to see Jeonghan before we leave,” you hum as you walk to the parking spot. 

“I was going to, but he’s probably dealing with what happened,” she utters slowly. A flash of red at the mention, gone as soon as it came. Lorelai adds with a little extra pep to her voice, “It’s okay! I’ll send him a text, we were planning on dinner tomorrow anyway.”

The side eye you send is met with a light shove. “This one seems serious. Dragging me here for his sake and now dinner with him?”

Lorelai was infamous for taking it excruciatingly slow, the time between the talking stage and the first date stretching for months. She claims it’s to make sure she's not roping herself into something she’d regret, which you’ll admit has seemed to work out in her favour. Her last relationship lasted years before Josh had to move away. 

Jeonghan seems to have her under some warped spell, because Lorelai was hurtling into this relationship like a too compressed cannon ball. There was nothing you knew about Jeonghan other than his friendship with Seungcheol, his position as junior league coach and his habit of loitering on the ice; which means there wasn’t much opinion to be had on the whole conquest. Regardless, you decide to caution her some other day, when she’s not glowing and over the moon like a robust teenager. 

Slipping into the passenger seat, you slump like never before, already dreaming about the bedrotting session you’re about to have; glorious enough for the books. 

“Do you wanna grab food and rot on the couch?” she asks. 

“You’re still hungry after all that?” you huff, your mouth still flavoured with artificial sweetness paired with the savoury of the chicken and fries. You pull out your phone for the first time in nearly three hours, the home screen alarming full of missed notifications. Text messages, mentions and phone calls. For whatever reason, you swipe right past and open your browser. 

“It’ll take about an hour till we’re settled, should be hungry enough by then,” she comments, a gentle growl coming from beneath you as the engine comes to life. 

Somewhere between the lines of the seatbelt sign pinging, and the radio blaring itself into the space, you’ve read a headline that’s enough to halt your world. 

“There’s this new Chinese place that opened nearby here. Or this Persian restaurant but it’s like 20 minutes in the other direction. Or do we just do soup—”

“Lorelai.”

She turns to look at you in the passenger seat, seatbelt alarm still dinging as you remain with your seatbelt off as she pulls out of the parking space, like the official soundtrack to your doom. She brakes, hard. Lorelai is always Lorry with you, her full name only ever when you’re feigning irritation. 

There’s nothing irritating about the situation, but everything is wrong with it. 

It’s like you were in the benches, taking punches while simultaneously throwing a few yourself. You’re out of breath still seated, your skin tingles like a million arachnids crawling under your skin under your layers. You’re in the eddy of a horrifying whirlpool, that’s pulling you down, down, down, down, down, down—

!HOT TOPIC!

FIGURE SKATER OR FIGURINE? NOTHING GRACEFUL ABOUT Y/N L/N’S FALL FROM THE PINNACLE OF THE SKATING WORLD. Read from the Source!

From a pocket princess, to a rising star. From a rising star to the top of the world. From the top of the world to… a bottomless hell? How did Y/N L/N end up here? 

It’s nothing new that L/N’s presence was notable during the flashy ISU Grand Prix held in Beijing last year, the podium notably shuffled as a result. The skater’s ankle injury was never awarded a career ending title, but with the way her comeback remains as foggy as it did since the initial announcement, one must begin to wonder if we’ll ever see L/N on the competitive ice again. 

Or perhaps she’s simply lost her spark? 

Trusted sources report that L/N’s sponsors are growing weary of her extended vacation, and are just about ready to pull the rug! In addition, sources also report her floundering lack of consistency in practice sessions on the ice, her condition beyond someone as onerous as even Isabella Carroll to manoeuvre into success. Talk about futile! 

Now, we’re all hoping that our glittering gold medalist is only a victim of mindless chatter, however, we must concede, neither we nor our sources are holding on to too much hope. 

Keep on the lookout for more updates from us on our fallen (?) star!

[a/n]: hehehehehe remember to reblog and tell me your thoughts

[eleu22]

You guys do not appreciate Gaz enough so I’m here to sell him to you

this shit is important so yall better read

I truly don’t understand the lack of Gaz love -

ok well

I do at some level

I think the argument usually levied against his character id that he’s boring

but beautifully stated by tumblr user mockerycrow in their character analysis of him

CHARACTERS DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A TRAGIC BACKSTORY TO BE INTERESTING CHARACTERS

press keep reading to fall in love with Gaz

Who is Gaz?

I’m going to start out with who Gaz is as a character

morality

Gaz is someone who has a strong sense of morality and struggles with the balance between doing the right thing and doing the morally right thing, there’s this debate between long-term morality and situational morality that Gaz struggles with

look im maybe not the most linguistically talented person on earth so im just gonna throw in a few quotes which i think gives Gaz

Gaz is someone who admist chaos and war is trying his best, trying his best to be a good person, to be reliable and to do the right thing

if thays not lovable idk what is

relationship to price

ok so i think this aspect of Gaz’s character is what people tend to focus on

and as much as the omg price’s son shit is cute i think he’s become a vehicle for people to emphasise price’s daddy factor (which like dont get me wrong keep up the good work)

but i think theres so much more to that

i forgot who wrote this but someone said something about Gaz trying to follow in impossibly large footsteps and i think thats so accurate

going back to Gaz’s struggle with morality there’s so much untapped potential in the idea that his idol, may not be an amazing person, having to come to grips with the idea that Price, his role model can look at a woman and child as interrogation leverage is something that i think people need to look into more

OK so now

Untapped Potential

so here are somethings which i

idk if this is like the correct phrasing

headcannon? idk i just think these are parts of Gaz’s character which could be rlly interesting to explore

ahem

yes Gaz is a good guy, but that doesn’t make him passive Gaz has shown moments of anger, like in the interrogation with the butcher when he lunges at him or when him and price first meet

i think the fact that Gaz is so calm and collected but has these moments are cracks in the facade he creates

i believe personally he has a lot of repressed anger whether it be at the world, at himself, at his captain hes an angry dude hes just better at keeping it under wraps

and i know we don’t really have many details on his backstory but cmon there’s no way u sign up for a job like this and don’t have any issues whatsoever

i think this quote is so good for this because he’s harnessed his anger, it’s what makes him good at his job, a knife, a weapon

i think another interesting concept for Gaz is guilt

the fact that he cares about whats right and wrong how does he feel going to sleep at night? do these things haunt him? is he irredeemable?

i think its like that one quote “the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t. My guilt does not purify me.”

Final Thoughts

anyways guys thanks for coming to my ted talk

i know this was really messy but i just want to encourage some Gaz love because i think he’s a really interesting complex character who we just need to dig a little deeper into

i hope this incites some more gaz love

THANK YOU 😳

[mytherapyisreading14]

Magic Tricks

Summary: You are celebrating Henry’s birthday but when Spencer shows some magic tricks, his hands quickly become a distraction to you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, kissing, dirty talk, hand kink, praise kink, choking, oral sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all)

Word Count: 3,5k

Authors Note: This is the first time I wrote smut, so please let me know if I forgot any warnings/ if there’s anything to improve! Hope you enjoy :)

It's a sunny afternoon, the garden is full of life and everyone came to celebrate Henry's birthday today. Henry is currently sitting on a small wooden bench surrounded by his friends while Spencer shows them his favorite magic tricks. He lets cards slide through his fingers, pulls handkerchiefs out of the air and amazes the children - especially Henry, who sits there with his eyes wide open almost the entire time.

"What do you think, Henry? Ready for something you've never seen before?" Spencer stands in front of the boy and raises his hands, which start to intertwine in a fluid movement. “Yes, definitely!" Henry says enthusiastically.

Spencer quickly brings one of his hands down and pulls a glittering ring out of the air, which immediately appears in his other hand. "Look here, Henry, it's really easy,” Spencer says with a wink. “Wooooow!" the children shout in unison and Henry claps euphorically.

You, sitting next to Penelope on another bench, are also completely fascinated - but you're not just looking at the ring or the tricks. Your gaze keeps wandering to Spencer, to his hands to be precise, which performed the magic with such precision. It's not just the art of magic that captivated you, but also the man himself.

How skillfully his fingers move, how naturally he juggled the small objects - all of this makes your thoughts drift away. The fact that you’ve been in love with him for years now makes it even worse. You imagine how his hands would touch you, how he would hold you when...

You suddenly hear your name and flinch. You didn't even really hear him talking to you, as your thoughts were far away from the magic trick. "Are you even listening to me?" Spencer asks. "Why are you staring at my hands all the time?" You freeze. Suddenly you are so aware of the situation that you almost feel like everyone in the circle is watching you.

Your cheeks turn red. "Uh... I... I just wanted to know how the trick works," you stammer. Penelope, who is sitting right next to you, couldn't help but giggle and whispered to you: "Sure, that must have been the reason..."

"Yes! Exactly," you answer way too quickly. "I... wanted to find out how you did it!" Spencer looks at you for a while, then nods. “Sometimes, it's better if you don't understand the trick," he says with a mysterious smile. "Otherwise the real magic is lost." You try not to blush any more. "Of course, that's true," you murmur and try to relax. Penelope, who is watching the whole situation with a grin, giggles quietly.

Spencer turns back to his magic tricks, but his gaze keeps wandering over to you. You try to look away from his hands now, but unfortunately it's all to no avail. You find yourself looking at his hands and your thoughts wandering in another direction, and Penelope, noticing this, nudges you teasingly with her elbow. "Looks like our genius is enchanting you even more today than usual," she says.

To get out of the situation and keep a clear head, which is never possible around him, you stand up. "I'll get a drink," you mutter. "Good idea," Penelope says with a cheeky grin as you walk towards the house. The other children are busy watching the magic tricks again, but you can't shake the thought of Spencer.

His hands, which unleashed the magic so precisely and elegantly, preoccupied you much more than you would like to admit. You wonder what else he could do with those hands - if it wasn't just about magic tricks.

Spencer, who is busy with the children and their enthusiasm, casts a quick glance at Penelope, who looks at him with an amused smile. He goes over to her while the children continue to marvel and chat. Spencer casts a glance in the direction you went and then wonders if he missed something. “Tell me, Penelope,” Spencer begins, “do you also think she was acting a bit strange just now?”

Penelope laughs. "Oh, come on, Spencer. She was completely distracted." Spencer raises his eyebrow. "By my hands?" he asks, now slightly amused and curious. "Why?" Penelope looks at him and then grins widely. "Well, because she... watched pretty closely how you used them. She was completely fascinated," she explains.

“Fascinated?" Spencer repeats, now even more confused. "And what's so fascinating about that?" Penelope shakes her head and laughs softly. "Come on, you genius, do you really have no idea?" She clicks her tongue and looks at him with an expression that was almost too good-natured to be serious. "Um... no, not really," Spencer replies, looking at her confused. "Explain it to me."

Penelope raises her hands in an innocent gesture. "You're a genius, you should be smart enough to figure that out on your own." She winks at him and then stands up. "I'm going over to the others. Use your clever head properly," she says and then walks towards the house. Spencer ponders, the explanation has triggered something in him, but he still can't quite figure out what exactly Penelope meant.

Then he decides to tell Morgan - who is standing on the other side of the garden - about the previous conversation. He had no idea what had just happened, but something told him that he had to understand it. He walks quickly towards Morgan, who is just getting a beer from a cooler.

“Hey, Morgan," Spencer says, stepping next to him. "You didn't happen to notice what just happened, did you?" Morgan looks at him with a grin when he hears the question. He laughs quietly and takes a sip from the bottle. "Yeah, I noticed. She couldn't take her eyes off you the whole time.”

Spencer suddenly feels a little embarrassed. "What exactly do you mean by that? She was just a little distracted by the tricks. That's all." Morgan raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head, still grinning widely. "So you're really the only one who doesn't notice, huh?" Morgan asks. "Notice what?" Spencer replies. "Well, if you don't understand..." Morgan says, laughing again. "She's in love with you, pretty boy. That's what's going on."

Spencer is so surprised that he just sits there speechless for a moment. "You really think she's in love with me?" Morgan laughs again. "Um, yeah? Have you never noticed how she acts when you're around? How nervous she gets?" Spencer blinks as he thinks about it. He actually hasn't noticed that you sometimes act differently around him.

He thought about the tricks and the magic all the time, but never about the fact that you might be interested in him for another reason - something much more personal. He tried to push the thought away, but something inside him wouldn't let it go. He wanted this - you - for years and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up now. This has to be a misunderstanding, there is no way you are actually interested in him like that.

Deep down, he's wondering if he was really that blind. And what if Morgan was right? What if you actually feel more for him? He looks around again, glancing at you. Spencer puts the thought aside for now - but he knows he can't shake it off so easily. He feels like he can't ignore the whole situation any longer. After talking to Morgan, he realized a lot of things, but he really needed to talk to you to understand them. He has no idea how you would react.

You, on the other hand, try to avoid Spencer for the rest of the evening. You can't be near him without imagining what his hand would feel like around your neck or between your legs. But since Spencer is so popular with the kids and they can't get enough of him and his magic tricks, it's fortunately easier than you think to avoid him. But you still often feel his gaze on you and it makes you nervous.

Later that evening, after most of the guests have already left, you help JJ bring in a few glasses and bottles. You are just about to go back outside when Spencer comes towards you. "Hey," he says, but before you can even reply, Spencer pulls you aside and into the small guest room at the end of the hall. The door closes behind you and the atmosphere in the room is suddenly much more intimate.

“What's wrong?" you ask, still a little confused because he took you aside so suddenly. "You avoided me today," he says. You avoid his gaze so he doesn't see that you are blushing again and start babbling. "Henry and his friends were so impressed by you and your magic and it's his birthday, I didn't want to disturb you. JJ also needed help and I agreed to do that. We were both busy, so it's clear that we don't run into each other that often," you explain hastily.

“That's not true. You deliberately avoided me. And your mind was somewhere else. As if something was distracting you,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “Why don’t you want to tell me what distracted you today?” he asks, looking down at you. Your heart is beating faster and faster and you are a little overwhelmed by the whole situation.

You didn't expect Spencer to confront you with it. "Now you’re quiet. That's uncharacteristic of you. I think I'm making you nervous," he says. "I...uh," you start, but you're unable to form a sensible sentence. "I was just talking to Morgan and… now I know why you were looking at my hands like that." You look at him questioningly. "What?"

"You were looking at my hands," he says, "because you're in love with me." A laugh escapes you. Your reaction leaves Spencer startled, his voice suddenly uncertain. "Why are you laughing?" he asks, and for a moment he looks as if he's not sure what to make of it. "Is it because I'm wrong? I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable -"

But before he’s able to continue, you quickly grab his arm and pull him towards you. Your lips meet his, and for a moment everything else is forgotten. The kiss is gentle and at the same time full of emotions - as if you want to tell each other everything you never put into words. When you pull away from him, you look deep into his eyes and whisper “Morgan is right... I'm in love with you."

Spencer stares at you for a moment, as if to make sure he heard you correctly. But before he can say anything, you quickly add, "But that wasn't the only reason I was staring at your hands," you tell him. "No?" Spencer raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What was the other reason?" he asks, and you can see in his eyes how eager he is to know. "I want to know."

You can see the sparkle in his eyes, the mixture of relief and curiosity, and for a moment you feel your heart beating a little bit faster. There's something you haven't told him yet, something you need to explain to him. But the look in his eyes melts your nervousness.

"I was looking at your hands," you begin, "because you use them in a way I've never seen before. Your movements are so precise, so... controlled. It's not just magic, Spencer. I want to know what else they can do." Spencer is silent for a moment, and then you see a slight smile appear on his face. “So, you're looking at my hands because you want to know what else they can do?" he asks. "Yes," you answer quietly, "but also because I just can't get enough of you."

“I don’t want you to get enough of me. Ever. Because I am in love with you too. For quite a while now. Since the day you sat down on the jet next to me and challenged me to play chess, to be more exact,” he says and leans forward to kiss you again, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer.

A gasp escapes your mouth and Spencer takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss and explore your mouth with his tongue. You can feel the heat rushing through your body and you press yourself even closer against him, reaching for his hand. His eyes follow every move with a curious look. You take his hand and slowly guide it to your neck.

His mind slows for a minute and then he finally understands. “That’s what you‘ve been fantasizing about earlier. My hands exploring your body. Me choking you. Haven‘t you?“ he asks and you nod. His eyes darken and you can see the lust sparkling in them.

His hand now wraps around your neck entirely and he squeezes gently. “More,” you whisper. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer says with a concerned look on his face before he tightens the grip on your neck. “Yes Spence, of course,” you breath out before getting distracted by his hand sliding up your inner thigh.

His hand is now under your skirt, running over your panties. “Can I touch you?” Spencer asks and you pull him down by his tie to whisper in his ear. “Of course you can, Spence. I need you to touch me. I’ve been dreaming about this since forever. I’m all yours.” You kiss slowly down his neck, then nibbling on his skin to mark him with a hickey.

That’s all Spencer needs to hear. His hand pulls your panties to the side and he grazes your clit with his finger to tease you. “Spence, please. Touch me,” you whimper and he chuckles. “Someone’s eager. Fantasizing about my hands got you worked up, am I right, sweetheart?” he asks, finally touching your clit with his thumb. Your only respond is a moan and you press down on his finger to show him you need more.

“I barely touched you and you’re already soaked,” he says as he runs his finger through your folds. “Only… only for you, Spence,” you manage to say and slide your hands up to his shirt to open the buttons, taken off guard when he pushes a finger inside you. Your knees are trembling and you have to hold yourself against his body in order to stay up.

“Spence, that’s so - it feels so good… I - I need more, please,” you whine and he pushes another finger inside you. He reaches all the spots you never could and you’re a moaning mess, rocking yourself against his hand. “Good girl,” he praises you and it takes you off guard. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles. “You like that, didn’t you? Me calling you a good girl. So praise kink and hand kink, let’s find out what else you’re into.”

You didn’t expect to hear such words from him. He is always the sweet, gentle and unassuming genius when you are around him, but now, that both of you snapped, finally giving in into your desires, he shows you a completely different side of him, one you’re more then excited to discover. It turns you on immensely.

He squeezes your throat more and pumps his fingers faster, rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb and it doesn’t take long for you to come on his hand. You hold yourself steady against him with trembling knees while he is busy running his hands down your shirt, tugging at your bra and squeezing your breasts. You help him taking off your shirt while he’s guiding you to the bed.

He unclasps you bra skilfully and pulls down your skirt and underwear in one motion, before he pushes you down onto the bed. His gazes wanders over your body and he licks his lips. “You are gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says before he leans forward to kiss down your neck to your breast. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth while squeezing the other one.

You arch your back and slide your hands up to his shirt again to go back to unbuttoning it, after you got interrupted earlier by Spencer giving you so much pleasure that you were unable to continue your actions. You pull his shirt off and run your fingers over his body.

Spencer slowly kisses down your tummy now, reaching your inner thighs where he sinks his theeth into the sensitive skin, sucking the spot to leave a hickey there before he gently kisses it and leans back to admire his work. It earns him another moan from you and he and grins. “So you like marking me, huh?” you decide to tease him back. “You are in no position to tease, darling,” he says with a mischievous grin before he presses his mouth against your cunt, licking a strip up your folds.

Your hands reach for his hair immediately, pressing him closer to you while he devours you like a man starved. Your whimpers are music to his ears and he can’t get enough of you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he says before he dives back in. You lift your hips to press more against his mouth but he holds you down with his arm. “No, you have to stay still and take what I give you, do you understand?” he asks and you nod.

He shakes his head in disappointment. “Words, sweetheart,” he simply says and you need to concentrate to form a sentence. “I - oh… yes, I understand,” you manage to breath out and he goes back to eating you out, his grip firm on your hips to keep you still. You never felt this kind of pleasure and when you look down and see him devouring you completely, it becomes too much, you come again moaning his name.

Spencer comes up between your thighs with a satisfied smirk on his lips and you pull him down to kiss him again. You taste yourself on his lips and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hand slides down to his pants and you open them with shaky hands, pulling them down. “Need you now, Spence. Please,” you tell him. “You need me that badly?” You nod. “Yes, I want to feel you inside of me.”

He takes off his boxers and your eyes widen, he is bigger than you expected. You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding through your folds a few times to tease you. Then he pushes in and you moan his name. He claps his hand over your mouth to shut you up. “Shh, as much as I enjoy hearing you moan my name, you have to keep quiet,” he says.

From the lack of movement you are feeling right now you were sure he’s giving you time to adjust. When you feel ready you lift your hips to show him. He starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, hitting your G- spot with every thrust. “You feel so good, so warm and wet just for me,” he says and feels you clenching around him.

It feels even better than you imagined. He’s big, but it’s not uncomfortable and you want more. “Harder. You can - you can fuck me harder now,” you say and he chuckles when he hears how eager you are. He starts thrusts in and out of you faster, his hand wrapping around your throat again.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined every time you looked at my hands?” he asks, squeezing until you see stars. “Yes, oh god - Spence. Feels so good,” you moan, already feeling another orgasm building up, gripping the arm around your neck for support.

Spencer, who can feel how close you are increases the speed and thrusts even faster and deeper inside of you. Your body is on fire and when Spencer starts to apply pressure to your already sensitive clit, you feel like you’re going to explode. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come around my cock,” he says and his permission is all you need to let go.

Spencer fucks you through your orgasm, also close to reaching his own now. “Fuck, I need to come inside of you. Can I, Sweetheart?” he asks, his thrusts getting sloppier. “Yes, in- Inside me,” you say and he finishes a few thrusts later. When he pulls out you can feel his cum dripping down your thighs, but you don’t mind. He collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks you while he plays with your hair. “Yes, that’s was amazing,” you say and give him a peck on the lips before you cuddle closer to him, gently stroking his hair. He looks down to you. “Do you have to get the morning after pill? I can get it for you,” he says and you smile. “I’m on the pill, Spence, but thank you anyway,” you say and give him a kiss.

You stay in bed cuddling but after a while you speak up. “I would love to cuddle with you all evening, but I think we need to go back out soon, the others are probably already looking for us,” you say and he nods. “A few more minutes. I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he says and you smile. “I love you,” you say and he smiles back. “I love you too.”

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[katz-rambles]

Aphrodisiac sex with Viktor has taken over my brain. So I'm gonna write about it 🤭.

My first Arcane fic!! Wooo!! I hope I wrote his character well!

(nsfw, fem!reader, use of aphrodisiacs, alcohol mentioned, masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), dom-ish!reader, sub-dom!Viktor, Viktors a tease, friends to lovers?, I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

The night started out normal, enough. You went out with some friends for a nice girls night out filled with drinks and gossip, and it was an amazing night. You're relatively tipsy by the time everyone is ready to go home, it's about half past midnight, and the only thing you can think about is going to bed. That is until, about half way home. A sudden spark flows through your veins, creating a dull fog in your mind. Maybe you had a bit more to drink than you thought you did.

You've decided to walk a tad bit quicker to get home. A small apartment in the downtown of Piltover, it's a nice size and not too expensive, especially since you're sharing it, and the fact that there's only one bedroom inside just adds to the fact. You're just glad that Viktor doesn't mind sharing a bed.

You have to fumble with your keys for an embarrassing amount of time before you can actually unlock the door. It's silent inside the apartment, there's no sign that Viktor has already come home. Although, that wouldn't surprise you, ever since he and Jayce started to work on the Hextech, you've been seeing less and less of him in your shared apartment.

You push off a shower until the morning, it can wait a few more hours, it's too late. When you enter the bedroom, you almost scream when your eyes focus well enough to see someone sitting at the small desk in the room. So he is home, you rub your temples and sigh. He’s always staying up late. You don't want him to hurt his back, more than he already has, by being in such an awkward position all night. So you gently grab onto his shoulders to try and wake him up, his shirt has slipped and your palm rests on the bare skin, the warmth that comes from him could burn you. From such a simple touch that foggy haze fills your head once again, when Viktor is in a better position you'll get a drink of water. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and carefully shake him, a sad attempt to wake him. You would just carry him to the bed, you're strong enough, but you don't want to irritate his leg.

“Hey, Viktor.. are you awake?” You whisper, when you feel him stir. No response comes from him, but you're not going to give up any time soon. So this time you try a different method, you crouch beside him and lift up his head to try and see if he's awake, and he's not. Of course he's not. But you're determined to save his back from his hunched position. Each time you try something different and your hand makes contact with him, you can feel another spark flow through your veins and the foggy haze in your head gets stronger. Maybe this time you'll just splash him with ice cold water, but that'll probably give the poor thing a heart attack.

“Viktor, come on. You can't stay like this,” you groan and try to shake him awake, once again to no avail, and your feet are starting to ache from crouching in your heels for so long. At this point you're starting to give up, and you try to shake him one last time. Your hand rests on his waist this time, the other on his arm, you can feel the warmth of his body, along with his scent, a mix of oil, metal, and his shampoo that creates an intoxicating smell that you'll never get enough of now, from this position and, as much as you may hate to admit it, it sparks a dull throb in your core. “Vik.. please?” You shake him, trying to ignore the fire that's sparked inside of you, and this time he does wake up. A shallow gasp escapes from him as he pushes his head up and rubs the back of his neck. He lets out a low groan and looks over at you, the noise has you thinking about just how he would sound if you had your way with him.

This time it's his turn to shake you from your, not so innocent, thoughts, and he pushes himself up from the desk, now standing while you're still crouching. The position puts you at the perfect level that your thoughts start to wander again. “Just how much did you have to drink?” He chuckles as you stand yourself up, one of his hands reaches to press against your forehead, and it burns. You can't tell if it's him or you that's warmer, but the contact has a familiar pulse starting at your core. Just before he's able to say something you push his hand away from yourself. “Enough,” you reply, trying to shake the feeling away.

He scoffs and leans against the desk, and you can't deny how fucking hot he looks. His hair is messed up, his clothes have wrinkles in them, and his hands, god his hands, have traces of whatever he was using back at the lab on them.

You decide to take a shower now, maybe this way you can deal with the problem of your hormones raging like a horny teen. The warm water feels like it's been sent straight from heaven and down on your aching muscles, you can feel yourself relaxing under the water. You let your hand drift to your breasts and massage the flesh of one and then the other, feeling your nipples harden under your palm. Each touch you give yourself, you let yourself imagine that it's Viktor. You place your free hand over your mouth to silence your gasp when you push a finger inside your hole to find yourself dripping from such light touches. You curl your finger up to try and hit that one spongy spot inside you, and when you finally find it, you hope that your hand muffled the loud moan you let out. You slowly add another finger, wishing it was his instead of your own. You set a steady rhythm of your fingers, while grinding your swollen clit against your palm. You bit down on your hand in a sad attempt of silencing yourself, silently praying that the mix of your palm and the running water will be enough to not let your moans escape the bathroom. You start to speed up your fingers as you feel your orgasm get closer, desperately grinding against your palm for the friction you crave against your clit. Soon enough your orgasm crashes down on you, and you let out a loud moan. Now you're left panting from the aftershocks of your orgasm, yet even after that, the haze and pulse is still evident. Maybe you should just sleep it off.

The shower you had was relaxing and when you come out you find Viktor sitting up on the bed, with a book in hand. You crawl into bed beside him and lay your head onto the pillow, closing your eyes and relishing in the cold feeling of the fabric against your, still burning hot, skin. Even after a long shower the feeling hasn't stopped, and now being right beside Viktor, it's seemed to double. “Are you okay?” Viktor asks, when you lift your head up from the cold release of the pillow, all you can muster is a nod, if you open your mouth you're afraid you might just moan, you can feel his body heat from under the covers and his scent is evident in the bed. “I'm fine, Vik, think I just had a little too much to drink,” you laugh and rest your cheek on one of your arms, “but I'll be fine after a good sleep.”

Viktor sighs and lifts your face up, his hand holding your chin. He studies your face and you can feel your face heat up from his intense gaze. “Hmm, you don't seem fine. You're practically burning up,” he states. The way his accent sounds when he speaks has you clenching your thighs and hoping he doesn't see you doing so. He keeps your face in his hand for a few more seconds before he finally lets go, “maybe it was one of the drinks you had making you burn up.” He brushes some stray hairs out of your face and he shuffles so you're both laying down, he pulls your face closer to him and squints his eyes at you, before he can say anything else you pull him closer and kiss him, feeling his reciprocate the kiss just spurts you on more and you thread your fingers in his hair.

He rests a hand on the curve of your waist and when you feel it you pull away and feel yourself internally panic, “holy shit, I'm sorry. I have no fucking clue whats gotten into-” Before you're able to finish your scentance he pulls you back down and kisses you. His hand trails down your waist towards your thigh and he strokes the side of your thigh, occasionally giving the fat of your thigh a squeeze. “I told you. It was one of the drinks.” He mumbles against your lips and grabs your hip and pulls you closer, you take the hint and quickly climb on top of him, straddling his hips, and he groans when you grind down on his semi hard erection.

You pull away from his lips just long enough to tug his shirt off, quickly doing the same with your own, before connecting your lips again. You start to trail kisses down his jawline, towards his neck, leaving a kiss on his adams apple, and moving to the side of his neck to leave more kisses and occasional harsh sucks to form a mark, savouring the noises he lets out every time you do. Being careful to not hurt his leg, you move yourself down to trail your kisses lower and lower until you reach the hem of his pants. “May I?” You ask breathlessly and he chuckles, “you practically tore off my shirt, you think I'd say no now.” He scoffs, a teasing undertone to his words that causes the throb in your core to heighten. You pull down his pants and boxers to let him dick out, wrapping your hand around the base and giving him a few strokes before you wrap your mouth around the tip, licking up the bead of precum that's settled there. He groans and tangles his fingers in the strands of your hair, not pushing or pulling but just resting his hand there. You start to bob your head, making sure to tease the tip, relishing in the noises he's making, a mix of delicious groans and whimpers leave his lips and it spurs you on more. He thrusts his hips up and the tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag around him, his fingers gently tug on your hair and when you look up at him he lets out a loud groan. You use one of your hands to reach down and rub your clit, matching the pace of your fingers with the pace of your head. He thrusts his hips up again, this time a little rougher, and you know he's getting close. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he pulls your head off him. “No, when I cum, it'll be inside you.” He says, and you whine at the loss of friction when you pull your hand away from your aching clit. He pulls you to him and kisses you, savouring the way you taste and groaning when he tastes himself on your lips. You pull your pants off and straddle his hips again, lifting yourself up and lining his cock up. You give him a few strokes and slowly start to sink down.

The stretch is delicious and you moan when you've lowered yourself all the way. He brings one of his hands to your thigh and rubs it, you place your hands on his chest and start to lift yourself up. You whimper as you do so, adjusting to the stretch. A few seconds of just having his tip inside you, you lower yourself back down and repeat, slowly getting faster and rougher with each bounce. Soon you're riding him, one of your hands is on his chest, supporting yourself and the other rests on Viktors hand that's squeezing your thigh. You speed up a bit more and he groans when he feels you clench around him, his head falls back onto the pillow. His hand leaves your thigh and he brings it up and starts expertly rubbing your clit, for a second you find yourself jealous of his experienced fingers.

“Viktor! Fuck.. please don't stop!” You moan and clench around him, his hips start to rut up to meet your bounces. You both know that you're close and you know you aren't going to last very long. Your moans start to become more frequent and at a higher pitch, one of your hands leaves red scratches down his chest as you feel your orgasm get closer. Your nails dig into his skin and you bury your face in his neck, biting down on the sensitive skin when your orgasm hits you, your pussy pulses around his cock and with a few more thrusts up he's cumming inside you, his muscles tensing and he's moaning.

You both lay with each other for a few seconds before Viktor speaks up, “do you feel better?” He chuckles when you nod, you're still panting and you rest your forehead against his, a sheen of sweat on you both. You whimper when you push yourself up and feel his softening cock slide out of you, the globs of cum that drip out of you make you whine. He grabs your hips and pulls your pussy closer to him. “I can't have you dripping on the bed, we just changed the sheets.” He groans and pulls you so you're sitting on his face, his tongue lapping at your folds and tracing your clit. You can feel the vibrations of him laughing when you squirm on top of him, his hands have a tight grip on your hips, ensuring you don't move too much. You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging on it as you start to grind your hips on his face. He ravages you, eating you out like a starved man. The curve of his nose bumps your swollen and sensitive clit deliciously and you pull on his hair at the feeling, when you do he groans into your pussy. He doesn't slow down or even hint at stopping as you can feel your third orgasm of the night creep up on you.

“Fuck! Viktor.. ‘m so close!” You whimper and grind your hips down on his face, the obscene slurping noises that come from him just fuel your arousal. You tighten your grip on his hair and your thighs tense around his face as your orgasm hits, your squirming as he helps you ride out your orgasm. He laps up all of your juices until you're trying to push yourself off from sensitivity. “There we go,” he sighs when you move off his face, he has a sheen of your arousal around his mouth and he licks his lips and smirks at you, “now you won't drip on the clean sheets.” You laugh and he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you, you can taste yourself on his lips and it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

“How did you know it was the drink?” You ask him, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with each word that leaves your lips. “Aphrodisiac, it was easy enough to figure out when you came out of the shower. You're not as quiet as you think you are,” He smirks when you groan at him. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, one of his hands rubs your back, drawing random shapes and figures, and successfully lulling you to sleep.

[the-blaze-empress]

fuck i miss being in an orchestra