#just long enough that you have to remember how to draw them when they show back up

[gravegoer]

DADS FRIEND SEVIKA.... need her... sneaking around w her and stuff , possibly hcs

Secrets 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

i keep saying this but this is one of my favorite tropes... your age gap with her i tried to make somewhat reasonable so its not too extreme, and NOT ILLEGAL , and yes this is hcs kinda i guess. summary: sevika is your dads best friend, and your secret gf...

masterlist , mild nsfw

Sevika never had feelings for you up until the day you got back from collage. You seem to have matured more, at least in her eyes. But to your dad, you were still his little girl.

That's why she felt guilty for the thoughts she was starting to harbor for you. She supressed them as much as she physically could, but the way you looked at her and interacted with her made it near impossible.

The way you brought her water when she was all sweaty and dirty from helping your dad work on his car, your soft eyes meeting hers with a smile on your lips. It was so innocent yet you were drawing her in perfectly.

When you sat on the counter of the kitchen, engaging in conversation with her and your father she eyed the way your plush thighs contrasted against the marble.

You knew she liked you, and you felt the same way, for a long time actually, even when she didnt spare you a glance.

So you made sure to hug her a little tighter, and a little longer before she left. Looking up at her through your eyelashes, and delivering an innocent peck on the cheek.

At family gatherings you would let her pull out your chair for you, making sure she noticed the curve of your ass as you sat down.

Finally, she had enough.

When you were helping her bring boxes into the attic you had your back almost flush to her as you bent over to set down a large box.

"You know what you're doing"

Sevika grunted, pulling you into her warmth and slamming her lips into yours. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when you didn't bother retaliating and pulled her in closer.

The only thing that was holding her back is the scorn of your family. What would they think?

But it obviously wasn't holding her back, as for the next few weeks before you could speak to her in private again, she was always shooting you small glances and smirks.

And of course, you always returned them, brushing a hand down her toned arm when your dad wasn't looking, then switching to a firm pat when he turned around.

About three weeks later was the first time you guys could converse (kind of) privately, away from the rest of your family. She had told your father that she wanted to take you out on a 'girls' night.'

You knew better.

Your face flushed red when she asked right in front of you, knowing your dad would happily agree, overjoyed that his best friend and daughter were spending more time together.

To your surprise, she did take you out, on a nice dinner. You talked for a long time about your feelings for each other, it was mostly Sevika nodding and grunting in agreement. (Sometimes face palming at your eagerness.)

She took you to her home, more specifically, her room. She showed you what you were missing out on in college.

Sevika's hands are definitely more experienced than the women you were with previously, her calloused palms circling your hips and tracing your inner thighs.

You rode her thick thigh as she pressed a finger to your clit, cooing into your ear. She helped you ride out your orgasm until your head was resting on her shoulder, eyes slipping closed.

Sevika pushed your head back.

"Have to get you home at the curfew your dad set, yeah?"

You groaned, remembering your dad wanted you back by 11 PM for dinner. Your whole body protested as she lifted you from your position, helping clothe you.

You felt like a newborn deer, just learning how to walk, as you limped to the bathroom to freshen up.

When you finished, you came back to Sevika on the edge of the bed, her legs spread, and a cigarillo between her scarred lips.

You almost jumped into her lap at the sight before she got up, putting a hand on your waist to lead you to the door.

When you got home, you headed straight to your room, unable to look your dad in the eyes so soon. You could hear his and Sevikas' conversation.

"Yep, took good care of her alright."

From then on you both vowed to never let your family find out, not anytime soon anyway.

When nobody was looking, she would deliver a smack to your butt, but you were unable to do anything when she immediately delved into conversation with your father.

Sometimes, she slept over if she stayed a little too late, and you would visit her in the guest bedroom, trying your best to stay quiet. (Her hand is always over your mouth)

She slings her arm around your shoulder, and nobody thinks anything of it, but you see her small smirk.

When Sevika's fixing your sink, you sit on the counter above her while she lays on her back on the floor, reaching up to fiddle with the pipes. You can't see her upper half, but what you can see is her V line peeking out from under her shirt.

If she saw you bringing any friends over, she would raise an eyebrow before you reassured her with a wave and smile.

But she would still hover around the door of your room to make sure.

Your father trusts you going over to her home, so you linger there often, a lot of your clothes and other items litter her bedroom and bathroom

She appreciates the constant reminder of you.

kinda short??

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @archangeldyke-all @kylorey25 @sylencr @jinxjinxjinx12 @morphids @aizawasbaeee @ariya13 @tiyawnyana @n39ro-chann

[uhdrienne]

'tis the damn season

🍂 feat: old flame!lee jihoon x actress!reader

🍂 genre: sfw, fluff, angst, exes to lovers, city to town life

🍂 wc: ~8.5k

🍂 summary: an actress yet to make it big in the city, you return to your hometown for christmas for the first time since leaving. seasons have changed, along with life as you know it. jihoon, however, has not, and as you spend the festive season with him this year, you struggle to get past what your life could have been if your decision had been different.

🍂 author's note: merry christmas! nothing like a christmas story to really feel the season <3 there's another note right at the bottom if you'd like to know how the story came about... but meanwhile, enjoy the story and as always, let me know what you think 🎄

T h i s Y e a r

The trees outside the window pass in a blur. Your manager glances at you from the passenger seat, and you notice it from the periphery of your vision.

"You're excited to go home for Christmas, no?"

"I am," You reply, but your voice, try as you might to make it sound enthusiastic in the spirit of the festive holiday, your voice comes out hollow, empty.

Your manager clicks his tongue. "Then try to sound like it. Your parents would not be happy to see how sullen their daughter has become."

"Nothing has happened to me, Ray," You murmur. "I just... going home after so long..."

"That happens to every star I work with," Ray remarks. "Always so jarring for them to go home."

"Other stars, yes," You reply quietly. "I...am not one."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't!" Ray chirps. "You just haven't bloomed yet. Remember the feedback about your role in 'Blacklist'? The papers praised it."

"It was just a cameo, Ray. And it all died down within a week," You remind him, not unkindly, as you are still appreciative that he wanted to compliment you. "I think the agency wouldn't lose out if my contract isn't renewed."

"Nonsense!" Ray declares as the car pulls onto a familiar bridge. Up ahead, you see old thatched roofs, the houses looming larger as you near the village. "I will talk with them, see what auditions we can put you up for. You're talented, just undiscovered."

You chuckle. "Thanks."

"Have a good Christmas break, Y/N," Ray says comfortingly, as the car finally pulls to a stop in front of your front door. "It's the season to be with your family. Don't think about work."

You nod, beginning to clamber out of the car. "You too, Ray. See you in a couple weeks."

As the car finally pulls out of the cobbled path, you gather your belongings about you, and look up at a shout of your name.

"Dad?"

"My dear girl!" Your father enthuses, drawing you into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, sweetie. Oh, you've lost weight, haven't you?"

"Hm? No, not that much," You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to eating my body weight in Mom's food, though."

"She's more excited to have you home," Your father laughs. "You coming home has been all she can talk about nowadays. I think Mrs. Lee and Jihoon have had enough--"

Your blood freezes at the mention of that name. "What?"

"Mrs. Lee and Jihoon, of course."

"O-Of course." You stammer. Thankfully, your dad doesn't pick up on it as he relieves you of your luggage.

Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Lee Jihoon.

A big oak tree, an old swing, two children perched upon it, side by side.

"I'm gonna go to the big city one day!" The young girl whoops.

"For what?" The boy asked.

"To live! Mom says there are tall buildings and cars and big shops. Wouldn't it be so fun?"

"Sounds boring." The boy yawns.

"I'll bring you along!" The girl says obstinately. "I'll show you how fun it can be."

"Fine," The boy replies, swinging his small feet back and forth. "Let's go together when we grow up."

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Come on! I think your mother's going to freak herself out if we don't start going over."

"Coming!"

"I still don't get what you're doing in that grotty town."

"It's my hometown, Rina."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot you came from a forest." Your (kind of) friend's voice drawls on the other end. "I'm off, I have a YSL fitting in like twenty minutes. I'll catch you soon if you decide to leave, yeah?"

"Okay, b-" The line beeping cuts you off. You lie back on your bed, massaging your temples.

Your mother had laugh-cried her way into a hug once you made it through the door, lamenting how hard it was to see her star daughter these days. It was all you could do to bite your tongue and avoid correcting her.

You were not a star. Not at all. While your friends in the industry had piles of scripts waiting for their perusal and selection, you simply accepted whatever you got.

You didn't miss the poorly concealed smiles of mock pity directed at you when everyone shared about their recent works at afterparties. But you knew you always did your best at every role you got, no matter how small they were. Yet... there were moments when you wondered if hard work truly surpassed luck and star quality.

Your muddled mind shifts back to the setting in the kitchen as happy voices and laughter drift upstairs. The look on Jihoon's face when you made eye contact for the first time in almost three years stops you in your tracks.

He looked as relaxed and calm as ever, dressed in a comfy-looking sweater and loose pants. Nursing a cup of coffee with his mother in your kitchen where he'd been countless times, he still resembled the young man you'd left behind.

But gone was the softness in his eyes from when you last saw him. Replacing it was a certain coldness, a tough look you couldn't place. That look had only intensified as he took you in, dressed in a thick fleece coat, black pants, and boot heels to match. He had nodded his head to you in greeting, but it had lacked warmth. Understandable, really.

You had flounced upstairs after the necessary greetings, citing a large load of luggage to unpack as your excuse.

A knock on your door makes you flinch. You open it, and pause at the person standing outside. "...Jihoon."

"Your mom says to come down. She says the food's almost ready and you look too thin."

"Right. Right, I'm coming."

He shrugs and then turns away. His footsteps draw away from your room.

You pinch colour into your cheeks, the way you did when things got too hard, and brace yourself.

Jihoon was staying for dinner.

"So tell us what you acted in!" Your mom says cheerfully as she heaps food onto your plate. "I keep wanting to keep up with your shows, but it's strange, I haven't seen them on the main channel. Are they on streaming platforms or something?"

Your face falls slightly. She was right, half right to be precise. Your shows rarely ever made it onto mainstream television. And if they did, your roles were usually so small you'd just appear onscreen once. With that, it was borderline impossible for you to appear on Netflix.

Your dad rolls his eyes. "It's Christmas, dear. We should give her a break. Why, she came home to see all of us! We know how busy she is."

You shoot a grateful glance to your dad, which he returns with a wink as he raises his glass of wine. "Cheers to that."

As everyone at the table raises their glasses to meet in a sweet clinking sound, and your lips meet the rim to drink, you almost forget the way Jihoon's eyes strayed away from his plate to you when your mother brought your job up.

You're about to wash up when your father enters your room.

"Dad!" You smile, slightly buzzed by the wine and the relaxation you felt, now that you were getting used to being home. "What's up?"

I just thought I'd check in on you before we turn in," He opens his arms, and you gladly step into them. He hums as he pats your head. "Are you getting used to being here? I know it's very different from the city, but.."

"I love it, Pop," You interrupt, understanding his worry. "Nothing can really beat home, right?"

"Right," He murmurs, and he coughs to mask up a suspiciously quick sniff. "Right. Well... sleep early. Tomorrow we'll go on a stroll, and see all the stuff you've missed. We can go visit Jihoon, if you want."

"Jihoon?"

"Yeah! He's got a big truck now, helping out with the family courier business... I heard he wanted to go to the city, but he's a good man, staying back here to help his parents."

You steel yourself to ask, "Did he ever say why he wanted to go to the city?"

"Hmm... he told your mom he wanted to go find an old friend when she asked. But, I suppose that can wait for him, since he hasn't mentioned leaving at all for a while."

You only hum in response.

"He didn't show it much, but his mother says he became much more quiet after you left. You two must have been really close, huh?"

The closest in the world, you wanted to tell him, but your own mouth just couldn't utter the words.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Flowers? For me?"

"Don't make a big fuss,"

"Tulips and baby's breath! Damn, you know the way to my heart. Hold on, I'll find a vase."

"Be quick. I'm taking you somewhere and we can't be late for it."

"Is it a reservation outside the town? Jihoon, I told you that breakfast place is so expensive for absolutely no rea-"

"It's not a reservation. I've already decided, we're going to the 24-hour diner since you said you like their waffles. Somewhere else."

"You're turning red. What's up?"

"The sky. Now hurry up."

He ended up bringing you to see the sunrise. He kissed you on the cheek in the backseat of his father's (much smaller back then) truck and when you got home close to noon, he brought you to the door, stumbled out a shaky and rushed "I like you", and squeezed your hand when you smiled at him.

It was the first of many dates, snuggling on the couch, overdramatic arguments about whether Rose let Jack freeze, and above all, the first moments of a lifetime spent together. You both knew it was a given.

T h i s Y e a r

"Uncle," Jihoon greets your father before his eyes land on you. His mouth tightens.

"Hi," You say meekly, feeling like the seven-year-old girl who would hide behind her parents to do introductions on her behalf. He doesn't respond, simply lets his eyes pass over you and back to your father.

Your dad doesn't seem fazed, as he remarks, "Cleaning the truck, Hoon? It's a good brand you've got there. Impressed whenever I see it."

Jihoon lets out a polite laugh. "Yes, well... I thought I'd invest in a good one since it'll be used for a while."

Your father turns to you. "Have you ever sat in a truck?"

You shake your head no. You never got to do that on set either.

He claps his hands. "Wonderful! Jihoon agreed to bring you out on a spin around the town. I have to pick up some things for your mom for Christmas Eve, you know how she gets. And I didn't think you'd want to spend your holiday grocery shopping with me. I'd feel at ease if Jihoon is here."

Your face tightens. "What do you mean?"

Jihoon clears his throat. "Uh-"

"You two were inseparable," Your father explains cheerfully. "Nothing like a good catch-up! Jihoon, drive safe, yeah?"

And then he's backing down the walkway, waving to you both. And now it's just you and your ex-boyfriend.

Jihoon looks away from you. "Get in, I guess."

And you do. No matter what Jihoon said, it always had a magnetic effect on you. Even if that same voice is now laced with unfamiliarity and slight coldness, you wouldn't say no to him.

Soon enough you're cruising through the small town, Jihoon's eyes trained on the road. As he slows down at a red light, you hesitantly ask, "How is everything with you?"

"Fine," He answers curtly, with no further elaboration.

Well. You can't say you were surprised.

You swallow and lean back into the seat.

"It's a nice truck," You remark lamely, in a desperate hope of starting conversation. "Your dad finally decided to get a new one?"

"It isn't my dad's," Jihoon replies, monotone still. "It's mine."

"Oh."

You should have known. The truck was much larger, its seats bigger than what you remember sitting in countless times as a teenager when his dad would pick you both up from school or to each other's houses.

After a short silence, you ask once more, "Where are we going?"

"To the coast. Your dad said youmissed the place."

"That's nice," You murmur back, emotions already deflated.

Of course, it had to be the coast. He brought you there to see the sunrise, and that was where you'd finally made it official. Clearly, the memories were just as raw for him, as you noticed him physically gritting his teeth as he stopped the truck.

"We don't have to go there-" You begin, but he cuts in stiffly. "I'm bringing you here to kill time while your dad does his stuff. Don't be mistaken."

"Right," You clear your throat awkwardly. "Of course not."

You're wondering how painful it would be to throw yourself out of the truck in embarrassment when your phone rings. It's Ray, so you mumble a quick "sorry" to Jihoon, who doesn't react, and pick up.

"Ray?"

"Hey, Y/N. How's the holidays so far?"

"Good? What's up?"

"Um..."

"Ray," You tease slightly, "You never call just to ask about my holidays. What's going on?"

"So...I just got back the results for your audition for 'Freak Show'."

"How is it?" You ask, breath caught in your throat. "Ray?"

A heavy sigh comes across the line. "I'm sorry, sweets. I know how much you wanted this role."

Your heart drops, and so does your expression.

"I'm trying to at least get you a supporting role since you liked the script so much, I'll let you-"

"Ray." You take a soft breath. Ray's voice halts. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"But-"

"Please... just forget it," You almost sound like you're begging. "I can't sit through doing another role no one's even going to remember. I've worked my ass off, Ray, I've gone for thousands of auditions for the past seven years, and not once have I ever gotten a callback for a lead role. I even tried to re-audition, but that damn assistant director spread the word of my so-called 'desperation', my fucking ex-manager did that stupid interview with the TV, and I ended up nowhere!"

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry," You sigh immediately, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry about that. I'm really thankful that you help me, always. Without you, I might have been entirely jobless and the agency would have fired me."

"Oh, hun," Your manager murmurs comfortingly. "Like I said, you're a good actress. Really good. It's just a pity things went south and you met that assistant director who wanted to screw with you. Otherwise, you'd be on the front pages everywhere now."

"I...It's fine. I'll live. Just, Ray..."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Rina and the rest if they call to ask, okay?"

"Your friends..?"

"Yeah. I... I want to tell them myself." More like no, you never want them to know. You can already see the fake disappointment on Rina's face when she whips her phone out to tell the chat made up of almost twenty actresses.

Ray agrees, and he tells you again not to stress too much before cutting the call. You lean against the cushion of your seat, closing your eyes, and when someone clears his throat you flinch. "Jihoon. Sorry."

He doesn't respond, simply looks at you as if you're a stranger, and you swallow nervously. "My manager called," You explain feebly, not that he even asked.

He nods once. "I heard." His eyes aren't exactly angry, they are still slightly cold, but there's something in them that seems more curious now.

You rub your eyes to snap yourself out, and you muster a smile at him. "So where are we going?"

"To get food," He replies. "That hot dog truck you liked a lot back then is here today, my dad told me."

"Oh, that's okay--"

"Don't eat hot dogs anymore?" He asks wryly, as he puts the truck in reverse and starts parking.

"Of course I do," You reply immediately, folding your arms. "Are you mad? Giving up on snacking?"

A flicker of a smile appears across his typically stoic face before he schools it and reverts to his stern expression. "I wouldn't know. You're stick thin, anyone would think you gave up fast food."

"Well. That just comes with exercise and occasional diets. And I'm not as thin as you say," You murmur. "But no. I wouldn't give up late-night cravings. My manager's one of the nicer ones."

Jihoon snorts slightly as he turns the engine off. "Thank goodness for that, I suppose?"

You shrug, and motion for him to lead the way to the hot dog stall as you climb out of the truck. You follow him down a rough patch of grass and rocks, all while he maintains a healthy distance. The sun warms your skin, and you breathe in the fresh, salty coast air.

"I'm sorry about the role, by the way. You must have worked extra hard for it," Jihoon says suddenly, hands in his pockets as he walks next to you, now back on solid ground, and you turn to face him, your face colouring in... embarrassment? Shame? "You heard my manager?"

"No. Just you, I put the pieces together."

Oh. "Right."

"Is it not...going well?" He motions with his hand vaguely. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Jihoon," You stifle a reluctant laugh. "You can ask."

He stays silent so you continue. "I'm not getting any lead roles, only minor ones even if I put everything I have into it..." You sigh. "My friends don't really mention me, or they make little remarks about my rejections. As an adult, you'd think I shouldn't be bothered, but it just... it gets loud sometimes."

A few moments pass, your sneakers shuffling through the sand, when Jihoon finally says, "They don't seem like friends to me."

You let out a half-chuckle. "That's how showbiz is, I guess."

"No," Jihoon disagrees. "It doesn't matter if it's the industry or not. Friends are here to lift you up, not celebrate your downs. They shouldn't be doing that to you."

He goes silent after and as you get nearer, the food truck coming into view, you mull over what he just told you.

"I guess you’re right," You finally concede after a small pause. "They really shouldn't."

He says nothing more about it, and simply exchanges swift greetings with the stall owner, who seems to know him well. You try to smile weakly at the owner, but with your emotions still running high, you can only hope it doesn't come out as a grimace.

He gets hot dogs for both of you, and you look on gratefully and with a little surprise as he reels off your order word for word: a large hot dog bun with mustard, ketchup, and extra grilled onions. He gets a soda for each of you too, and you almost groan in satisfaction when the food is done. He looks on, looking slightly amused when you dig in.

"Not your usual fine dining concept, sorry." He says as he watches you take a big bite.

"Are you kidding? Way better," You mumble through your mouthful, and he snorts before taking a bite himself.

Just like that, the tension from earlier dissolves into something a little softer, a little gentler.

"So," Jihoon says later, as you're polishing off your soda. "What's been up with you these few years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't come back to visit your parents. They don't say it, but they get really worried when you don't call."

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows at you, prompting you to go on.

"Life gets in the way." You explain, resigned. "I want to call home too, but I'm either fighting for roles that I know I'll never get or I'm trying out for more auditions. Plus, the past few years weren't a good time."

"Why?"

"Old manager," You reply, frowning at the sheer memory of the mess you engulfed yourself in two years ago. "Put me on stupid diets for no reason and when this assistant director snitched on me for being 'desperate for roles' when I tried reapplying, he gave a secret interview to the reporters."

Jihoon scowls slightly. "Right. I heard about that. Prick." You laugh out loud. "Yeah. A real prick."

"And then?"

"Not much else. I was trying to clear my name, and by then I wasn't getting that many roles either."

Jihoon doesn't say anything, and you steal a glance at him. He looks... conflicted would be a good way to put it. Like he doesn't know what to say or do.

Before you can think of something to say, anything to dispel the sudden tension, he suddenly gets to his feet. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay... is everything alright?" Was that your imagination, or did he just clench his teeth?

"Fine." Yup, he was definitely gritting his teeth. You're beyond perplexed. But with how angry he already looks, you're not sure you want to aggravate him further, so you get up, toss your cup into the bin, and follow him back to the truck.

The whole journey is spent in silence, and a lot of uncertain glances from your end.

When he drops you off at your home twenty minutes later, he doesn't say anything as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Jihoon?" You ask, turning to face him in the seat.

"Yes?"

His face freezes slightly when you tell him, "Thanks for today. I had lots of fun."

He swallows nervously, evident in the bob of his Adam's apple as he shrugs. "No problem."

"And…um… thanks for still remembering my hot dog order." You say softly, before turning to climb out of the truck.

When you get to your front porch, and then climb the stairs to your room, you look out the window.

He's still there.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"Did you just say you're...leaving?"

"I got the audition. It's my big break... if I don't take the chance now, I might not ever get to. It's my dream, you know that."

"What else?"

"Huh?"

"Your dreams this, your big break that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

"...What can I say?"

"What do you mean, what can you say? What about us?"

T h i s Y e a r

The next morning arrives in the form of your mother standing over your bed. “Hey, darl, wake up!”

“Mhmm?” You mumble from under your covers and you hear her chuckle before she peels your blanket back.

“Jihoon’s mom is coming over to help with Christmas Eve dinner,” she explains. “But I totally forgot about the school donation.”

“School donation…?” What is she talking about?

“Oh! Right. So we donate a bunch of food every year to your old school. You remember it, right? Near the Methodist church?”

“Yeah,” You yawn, stretching up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“They pass it to orphanages for children who don’t have Christmas dinner this season. I’ve had it prepared since this morning, but with Jihoon’s mom and the dinner, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by the school,” She looks regretful. “Would you mind helping with that, dear?”

“Sure,” You reply, cracking your neck. “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, mom.”

“Thanks, hun,” Your mom says, looking relieved. “It’s quite a lot. We had lots to give this year. Mrs Lee said she’d send Jihoon to help you.”

“Huh?”

“I wouldn’t send you into the cold holding tons of heavy bags!” Your mom fusses. “Wash up and eat before you go — your dad got the most amazing bread yesterday.”

After she leaves, you sit there, wide awake.

Jihoon is coming.

That fact alone has you hurrying to tidy yourself for god knows what, even applying a bit of mascara and lip gloss to salvage your face.

Your phone pings as you start tidying your table, and you look at Ray's name popping on the screen.

"Remember your audition and screen test with the director of 'Who Knows Why'?" The text reads. "He's making the final decision for the female lead of his new holiday film. This guy has high standards and his films are very popular, but he likes picking new faces over the same old stars. A few of your friends are in the choices too, but...I just have a feeling this could be it. I'll let you know again. Happy holidays!"

You sigh. Who Knows Why made headlines for weeks when it hit the cinemas, critics and film connoisseurs alike singing its praises. Unless a miracle selected you while you were sleeping, you very much doubted you would make it past.

By the time you get downstairs and have a few pieces of the toasted bread — which is amazing, all warm and toasty and fresh — the doorbell rings, and your mom rushes to get the door.

“Mrs Lee!” She exclaims, hurriedly ushering the other lady into the house. “Thanks for coming by today.”

As the two exchange pleasantries, Jihoon steps into the house, removing his boots and smiling slightly when your mother coos over him too.

He merely nods in acknowledgement when he sees you. The contrast makes your stomach clench slightly.

“Ah, Jihoon,” His mother says. “Make sure to help Y/N with the bags of food, yeah?”

He simply nods again, a soft “okay” escaping his mouth, before he approaches you.

“Let’s get going,” He says conversationally.

“Okay,” You reply nervously. He raises his eyebrows as he walks to the heaping table.

He picks out most of them. Especially the biggest and bulkiest ones.

It’s fifteen minutes later when you’re walking down the path when he breaks the silence. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You ask. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Nothing. I thought with the role thing… never mind.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, you’d barely thought of it since the hot dog outing. “Uh… I mean, what’s past is past, right?”

“I suppose.” He replies, non-committal.

And there it goes again. The choking, awkward silence that just doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter what either of you.

There’s a bit of fuss when you reach the school, what with all the grunt work passing over the food and making sure the right people get the right things, and that provides a little relief, at least for an hour or so.

After it’s all over, you find yourself at the school gates where you first met Jihoon, with the very same man, now twenty years on.

“It hasn’t changed much,” You observe.

Jihoon shrugs. “I guess. It’s like very little time passed.”

That roadblock comes back.

You swallow. “Um, Jihoon.”

He makes a humming sound in response.

“Are we…okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You admit, pulling at your sweater. “You seemed angry when we were out the other day and…”

“I’m not mad.”

“Right.”

You're not convinced.

“I’m really not.” He insists, although you haven’t even said anything to contradict him.

“I know. You said so.”

“Well, you sure don’t sound like you believe me.” He says, rather scathingly.

You shoot him a quizzical look. It was a choice between acting dumb or admitting that after all this time, he could still read you like a book.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” He laughs bitterly. “You never do, anyway.” He turns away as he says this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, slightly affronted.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” He says in a sudden show of annoyance. “Not even one call all these years, and when you finally show up back here, I find out how shit your so-called dream life has been. But I don’t know! It could just be me.”

“Jihoon-”

“And I’m just thinking, you gave up all of this?” He waves his arm outward. “You gave up everything back here… for what you have now? Was it even worth it in the end?”

“I thought that was what I wanted.” You try to answer, but it comes out pathetically. He was spot-on.

You left your family, your home, the love of your life… for something that ended up being unworthy in the slightest.

And you were now reaping the consequences.

“I…” Jihoon rubs his face, his anger now cooled into something like resignation. “You made your choice. I get that. I’m trying to understand. I just… I don’t know why you thought the life you have now, with fake friends and unnecessary drama, was better than peace.”

"It wasn't that I wanted to go through all of that... I --"

He stares at you, waiting for you to go on. But it's as if someone has sealed your mouth shut, as nothing escapes it.

T h r e e Y e a r s A g o

"You won't even bother trying? Will you fight for us?"

"How can I? The agent made it clear... once I step out, dating is out of the question.."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave for some big city, and I'll just be stuck here, waiting for someone who's already made her choice?"

"Jihoon, I... fuck, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All of it. I let you down."

Never had you seen your boyfriend regard you with as much disappointment as he did now.

"You did, Y/N. You really did. God, I thought--I thought we mattered more than those billboards."

"Jihoon-"

"But there's no point, right? You already made your decision. You don't intend to look back at all, do you?"

"I-"

Jihoon sighed, and bent his head in resignation, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally raised his head. "Then why are you still here?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't hold you back. Go on."

Silence, the raging kind that had never once blossomed between you both, took over.

After what seemed like an eternity, your mouth opened.

"We... we leave on the 17th."

He doesn't look up from his lap as you exit his room, down the creaking stairs of his family home for the last time, and you come face to face with his mom.

"Chase your dreams, dear," She'd said, clasping your hands, although you thought you saw unshed tears in her eyes as your own streaked down your face. "Come home and visit us sometime. Jihoon will be okay."

You did leave on the 17th. Jihoon turned up with his parents, and as his mom kissed you on the forehead and gave you her blessings, his gaze stayed on you, but he didn't step forward to say goodbye.

He kept looking on as you climbed into the car, and in the rearview mirror as it pulled away, you thought you saw him start to raise his hand in a momentary wave.

But then he was far gone behind you, and now you only had the road ahead for company.

T h i s Y e a r

The truck ride back is silent again. Jihoon doesn't even look in your direction, except to check his blind spots and adjacent lanes. Your mind is equally messed up, thinking about everything he said to you.

Was he right? Had you lost your way, and bargained everything you could have lived with, in exchange for friends who couldn't care less about you, and a career akin to a peakless, uphill slope?

Finally, when the silence becomes a thick, choking fog, you finally speak up. "Jihoon?"

He glances to you for a fraction of a second. "Yes?"

"If..." You struggle to find the words. "If... I hadn't made that choice..."

His head turns to you fully, his gaze now sharp. "What?"

You have to plan out what you want to say, word for word, before you go on. "If I chose to stay back then... would we have lasted? Would we have..."

Jihoon turns back to the road. "Would we have stayed together? Do you want my honest answer?"

You nod imperceptibly. "More than anything."

"We would," He says quietly, but with no hesitation as he makes a left. "I would have told you that we should set up a joint account and plan for a home together in maybe three years. I would've told you that we could go on weekly grocery runs and start thinking about moving in together. And I probably would have told you that I love you."

You freeze.

"It sounds unnecessary and stupid, but I don't want you to burden yourself with that, now," He says, sitting back and looking straight ahead. "I know you don't belong here, or to me, anymore. That's life, and we all move on, one way or another. Plus it's Christmas, and you're here now, so.... you should enjoy it before you leave."

And that's that. Just a reminder for you to enjoy yourself before you inevitably have to go. None of you need to speak to know that the conversation is over.

The drive resumes in silence.

You can't sleep. You've tossed and turned a million times, head pounding with exhaustion, but something's just stopping your eyes from shutting. Unfortunately, you know exactly why.

Jihoon's there in your mind. Sometimes the calm, steady person he's always been, sometimes a roaring, dark figure glaring at you the way he did when you said you were leaving.

Around two in the morning, you finally sit up. You have to go to Jihoon. You don't know what you're going to say, but if you don't find him, he will never stop haunting you.

You slip on a warm sweater and shoes, and gently close the front door behind you. The village is truly ready for the festivities, all twinkling golden lights and lightly falling snow. But none of that matters as you pad through the white fluff towards Jihoon's home.

When he opens the door, he's dishevelled, but doesn't show signs of having just woken up. "Uh... it's two a.m...?"

"I know it is," You say apologetically. "I'm sorry. I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ah. I see."

You're beginning to regret this. Maybe you should've thought this through. "Look, it's okay, I'm really sorry for bothering you--"

"Guess that makes two of us," He says conversationally, as if it isn't the dead of night. "Come in. It's cold."

You wait for him to walk in before following him into the house. Try as you might, you just can't shake the feeling of nostalgia that rushes through you as you walk around the house you've visited a million times.

You know that his favourite grey mug is on the cabinet shelf above the sink. The earl grey cookies he can't live without is on the counter. The stairs still creak a little when you step on the floorboards nearby. You know him and everything that belongs to him. You know it all.

You take a seat at his table. "Will your parents be upset that I came at this hour?"

He eyes you wryly. "You know silly questions get silly answers."

You know your question is nearly pointless. You've left late, slept over, even gotten drunk in this house and his parents still doted on you nevertheless.

You shrug. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

He hums as he reaches for a hot cocoa mix. "Then my answer is no. Nobody's upset."

Five minutes later, he places a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of you and sits down.

"So, bad dreams?"

"Huh?"

"You said you couldn't sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. Not really bad. Just... disturbing."

He raises his eyebrows. "I think that's the same thing."

"Dreams are like... like movies." You try to explain, a smile forming on your face. "Bad dreams are horrors and thrillers. Disturbing dreams are more like... like they could be any genre, but some parts and some scenes affect you more."

"Right," He says. "So Titanic was disturbing, then?"

"Very!" You blurt before you can stop yourself. "Because it still confuses me to this day, how on earth didn't Jack fit on the door?"

He breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. "It confuses me how you compare dreams to movies. They're in two complete worlds altogether."

"Admit it. It's a good analogy."

"It is," He admits. "I didn't think of that before."

You look at him, and you wonder how you can continue the conversation from here. He sits there for a few more minutes and stands up. "I'll go set up a room for you. It's snowing pretty badly, and you'll be soaked through if you walk back. I'd drive you, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to see anything."

He starts to leave the room, and you grab his arm. "Jihoon."

He looks down at your physical contact point. "Yes?"

"Earlier, when you said...when you said that movies and dreams are in two different worlds."

He looks at you. Staring unblinkingly, eyes never avoiding yours. He seems just as about to ready to confront this truth as you are.

Your dream was the movie screen, and his dream was you. Two completely, otherworldly different ones, but dreams and wishes nonetheless. Maybe now that you were once again back where you started, they could finally align.

"You weren't just talking about actual dreams, were you?"

Jihoon stiffens and steps back. "We're not doing this again."

"No, wait --" You say, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts. "I'm not going to make you tell me anything. I just want to know if you meant something else."

Jihoon swore he would give himself a pat on his back as he leaned down to look you square in the eye. "And if I said I did?"

You swallow and look at him. Your heart is pounding, and all logical thinking has been long thrown out of the window. "I'd thank the heavens for bringing me home."

His mouth finds yours and you pull him down to meet you more. It's not a cold war anymore. It's no longer a battle to see who can withstand the silence better.

And there is no more silence, you realise, because Jihoon is sniffling and your cheeks are stained with two warm droplets. "Jihoon?"

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, making no effort to withdraw. "I couldn't help it. I...I missed you. Not just this," He squeezes your hand which has somehow intertwined with his, and you squeeze back with the little strength you can muster. "Just...you. Drinking hot chocolate in my kitchen in the middle of the night, being within two streets' distance of me... eating hot dogs in my truck and sending food when Christmas comes."

You blink back tears. "I'm sorry for missing out all these years."

"Don't be sorry," He replies, imperceptibly softly, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "Just be with me."

You spend the night. And the night after, and the one after that.

The next three days pass like a fever dream. You go skating at the outdoor rink with Jihoon, laugh at how he wobbles his way to you like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time, drink hot peppermint tea at a market stall after dinner, and let Jihoon tuck you into his coat on the walk home.

You didn't want this to end. No matter what. Ray hadn't yet gotten back to you on the audition results, and you decided to take it as a no and move on, just as you always did.

Of course, life always found a way to rear back and bite you hard, as your phone rings. With gloved hands, you pull it out of your coat pocket to see Ray's name again.

"Ray!" You chuckle, a little heady and happy from the day's events.

"So someone's having a good Christmas," Ray teases. "Well, my friend, it's going to get a lot better."

"What?" You ask, your boots crunching to a stop. Next to you, Jihoon also stops walking, his eyes wholly on you in concentration.

"The director of 'Who Knows Why'," Ray says, poorly concealed excitement in his voice. "He called me today, said he wants you to take the role! Your friends didn't get it even though they're so famous, and guess what? You did."

"Ray." You say, firmly. "Repeat that."

"You. Made. It. Out of over 100 actresses. I'm not joking!"

You freeze, look up and lock eyes with Jihoon, who raises his eyebrows in question.

"Oh, my god," You say, and it all comes out in a rush. "You're...you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Ray promises. "So, when can I come pick you up? Day after Christmas?"

"Ah." You hesitate. The filming would involve you....leaving. And if you were to stay and prepare for press tours, interviews, meet-and-greets... when were you returning?

"Can I call you back? I'll check..."

"Sure, hon," Ray replies cheerfully. "Go tell your folks the good news! They're gonna be thrilled."

You laugh weakly and then hang up. Then you turn to your lover (is he?).

"So, what was that about?" He asks, resuming the walk.

"I..."

At his concerned look, you finally sigh. "I got a lead role. In the film of a really popular director."

"That's amazing....oh." His face falls as he comes to the conclusion you fear. "Does that mean...you have to leave, don't you?"

You take a soft breath, shuffling your feet back and forth nervously. "I suppose so. I...I have to."

And to make matters worse, your phone pings with a text, your face souring as you read her message. Then, Jihoon watches as you put your phone back in your coat without another word.

"Who is that?" He demands. He knows he sounds like a little child, but he doesn't stop himself. He doesn't like the bitter expression on your face and that's all he knows.

"A friend." You reply.

"Real friend or...?"

You sigh and fish your phone out and pass it to him. He reads the simple "Fuck you" message from Rina, and undiluted anger crosses his face. "What the-"

You shrug. "She was probably one of the actresses hoping to be selected. Not much I can hide from you now."

He chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, we're not hiding the fact that you have to leave in maybe three days. Back to people like this-" He gestures to your phone. "- and who knows what else."

"I'll try to come back often," You say, although it doesn't seem convincing in the slightest. Jihoon doesn't buy a word of it either, judging by his expression.

"Really?" He says. "You haven't even been able to find time to come home for years now. I know you've gotten your big break and I'm happy for you, but... I don't know what to do if you leave for years on end again."

"I'll try to shuttle back and forth," You insist. "I have to."

"Well," Jihoon says, still looking at you doubtfully. "Don't make it an obligation."

"No, let's talk about it," You insist. "I just...I've never gotten a lead role before. It's not just... it's not just a role I can give up right away."

"Well, then choose. Tell me what you want." He replies, disappointment crossing his face.

"I...I haven't decided yet." You say lamely. "I need...I need a little more time to think."

He simply continues looking at you, before turning away and pacing back and forth. All you can do is watch him helplessly. "I just don't want to think about when this...will be over." Fling? Relationship?

It's as if he already knows what you're thinking about as he smiles sadly. "See, you don't even know what label to put on us."

"I just don't like when it has to be one over the other." You say, hugging yourself and staring at your shoes. "I've missed you. You know I love you and I want to continue seeing you, but I can't just give up on what I've wanted for so long."

But Jihoon is already shaking his head and starting to walk. "It doesn't have to be one way or another. Because I think you've already made your decision. I'm taking you home."

And it was happening all over again. Days had passed with no interaction with him, and even on Christmas Day itself, he was nowhere to be found.

Too fast, the evening when Ray came to pick you up loomed near. Your father helped you pack, but behind the reminders to bring your makeup bag and home slippers was a tinge of sadness. Your old folks didn't even know when they'd next see you.

When Ray comes out of the car to pick you up, out steps another lady with him, who nods to you in greeting.

"This is Rachel, the producer for the movie," Ray explains. "Since it’s gonna be a holiday romance-comedy, she wanted to visit your town to see what it looked like in Christmas."

You smile, and nod eagerly. "It's beautiful. You won't regret it."

Rachel smiles back, then speaks to Ray. "You guys stay here. I'll go take a quick walk and be right back."

As she leaves, you look at Ray. "Can we talk?"

Ray raises an eyebrow. "What about?"

"I... was wondering." You say. "I have a bit of a predicament at home. I'd like to stay longer. Could you maybe...push for the filming to be delayed?"

Ray looks surprised. "You want to wait?"

"More than anything."

A smirk starts blooming on Ray's face. "For a guy?"

At your delay, he slaps your shoulders. "Great! So, is the lucky guy totally alright with your job? That's a good man right there."

"Actually..."

You sprint towards Jihoon's house. Your attention is fixed on trying not to fall flat into the snow and to get to him as quickly as possible. Other townspeople are gawking, probably wondering why someone is in such a hurry, practically flying down the street.

At his door, you start knocking hard. His mom opens the door, and to your dismay, she explains that Jihoon hasn't been home since the morning.

"Maybe he's at the coast," She suggests, and you have never set off so fast before.

You implore Ray to drive you, and despite his reservations, a call from Rachel confirms that he has enough time to bring you there in his car for you to find Jihoon.

“So I’m now a party who can help you find the love of your life,” He teases you. “What do you owe me if this works out?"

"I'll make sure I land another film after this."

"You're on."

Ray barely puts the brakes on before you're opening the door. "I'll see you in a bit!"

"Should I prepare tissues?" He calls back. You pray not as you frantically scan your surroundings for a familiar, dark-haired man.

And like the heavens are answering you, you find him. Sat upon the roof of his truck, staring out at the coast at the setting sun.

"Jihoon?" You call as you get nearer to him. The man freezes, then turns slowly to face you. "I thought you were heading back. Why are you here?"

"To talk," You say softly, trying to catch your breath. "I... I think we left some things unsaid."

"No," He disagrees, crossing his legs over to face you while still sitting. "I owe you an apology."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have tried to make you choose me over your dreams. I know how hard you've been working, and you're finally getting to your peak... I should have supported you. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"No," You insist, waving your hands. "I made that mistake first. Years ago, when I decided to leave, I didn't put you in front of my thoughts. I....I thought we'd be okay."

Jihoon shrugs and gives you a sad smile. "I'll always root for you. So... no hard feelings. Go ahead and shine. I promise we're okay. I'll never have bad feelings for you no matter what happens."

You shake your head. "That-"

"Y/N!" You hear Ray calling for you. Seriously? At this moment?

"What?" You hiss furiously.

"Check your phone!" You hear his hushed response.

"Later!"

"No! Now!"

You sigh and pull it out at his insistent glare, and when you look down at the message, your eyes light up. You shoot him a quizzical glance. Are you serious?

At his frantic nod, you turn back to Jihoon.

"You should go," Jihoon repeats. "They must be waiting for you."

"They are," You nod. He nods back, eyes not leaving yours.

"See you in a bit."

He cocks his head in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" You smile a bit at his nonplussed expression.

"The filming location shifted."

"What?"

"I'll be here, apparently. For the next half a year, or so. The producer decided this place must be too good to pass up."

His jaw drops, and he slides off the truck, as if his surprise disabled his sense of balance. “You’ll be… here?”

“For a while,” You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t beating fast and hard. “So, if… if you still want to talk, and maybe spend spring together… I’m down.”

He drops himself off the vehicle and his boots hit the ground with a crunch. “Say that again.”

You smile and take a few steps towards him. “I’m here for spring, Jihoon. And the seasons after that…we’ll figure it out one at a time. How does that sound?”

He lets out a laugh then, choked up but ecstatic. He makes sure, steady steps towards you, arms open in welcome and love, and as you step into his warmth, you let out a relieved, happy sigh and look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Jihoon.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

N e x t Y e a r

"I forgot how cold it can get every time," Jihoon hisses as another gust of wind hits.

"It's worse in town," You tease. "I barely feel anything now."

"Yes, yes, you with your big girl city habits," He shivers. "I'll pick that bone with you once we get home, I swear."

"I'm looking forward to it." You chuckle, and he squeezes you tight. As resigned as he is to the eccentric habits you picked up in the city, he's just happy you're here to spend this Christmas with him. And the one next year, and the one after that.

Home. Our home. You were a part of his home, and him yours.

Yes, you thought, even as you leaned against him and felt him wrap his coat around you despite knowing you weren't cold at all. As long as you were with him, you were home.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e:

merry christmas eve! i hope you enjoyed this story every bit as much as i enjoyed writing it 🎄 i started thinking about this close to october (because i missed my eras tour experience so much 😭) and wondered if anyone would like a crossover between seventeen and tswift!! so here goes, in time for christmas and your spotify wrapped, 'tis the damn season 💌

🎼 refer below for the fic playlist (with lots of svt, taylor swift, and sweet, romantic christmas tracks)

taglist: @jeonghnie

f i c p l a y l i s t :

'tis the damn season -- taylor swift

mirrorball -- taylor swift

lover - taylor swift

paper rings - taylor swift

daylight - taylor swift

new year's day - taylor swift

ours - taylor swift

i love you, i''m sorry - gracie abrams

risk - gracie abrams

all my love - seventeen

falling for you - seventeen

headliner - seventeen

lie again - seventeen

second life - seventeen

to you - seventeen

my santa claus - jessie james decker

glow - brett eldredge

all i want for christmas is you - michael buble

kiss you this christmas - why don't we

take me home for christmas - dan + shay

[ya-zz]

Ramattra Drabble

Wherever the omnic went, there was always a book in his hand or under his arm. At first, you thought it was just some reading material, but as time went by, you concluded that it wasn't a novel of some sort, but rather a notebook.

You had asked him about it multiple times on various different occasions but he never opened it up to show you. In fact, he never spoke about what was inside of it.

Figuring that it was something to do with his work, you stopped asking, admitting defeat and dropping the subject entirely.

There had been days, however, that he would leave it on the table or on the counter but he always came back within minutes to retrieve it, not leaving you with enough time to sneakily flip through the pages.

But you respected him. You trusted him. You wouldn't actually bring yourself to do it, no matter how much it gnawed at you. It was important work, so you thought. Maybe he'll show you when he's achieved what he needed to.

Months went by before the book was even mentioned again, but it wasn't you who sparked that conversation. It was Ramattra.

"You have wanted to see what was inside of here for so long." He looks down at the book in his hands before glancing back up at you, optics studying your face. Confusion but also curiosity. His arm extends outwards, book between his fingers as he holds it out to you.

"You're finally letting me look?"

Ramattra nods once before speaking. "Yes. Though, it will not make sense at first." He watches as you take the book, sitting down beside him so he can watch you turn the pages.

He wasn't wrong. Omnicode and equations riddle the first set of pages, scribbles of what you assume were weapon ideas and snippets from newspapers of world-wide events. It wasn't entirely what you were expecting.

As your fingers flip over to the next page, things start becoming a mess. Equations are scrapped, red and blank ink hiding what was once written and some pages were crumbled, seemingly from a small fit of rage where he scrunched the page.

"What is all of this?"

"That is not important." He silent urges you to keep moving ahead in the notebook and when the next few pages are turned, his systems momentarily freeze. His optics were locked onto your face, studying your features.

"Ramattra...?"

Amidst the omnicode, small sketches of you fill the page. At first, it was just one or two that fit the spread but as you continue to turn the pages, the sketches become larger, filling the pages entirely. Various angles and poses, sometimes when your back is turned, others when he's been sat directly across from you and you didn't even realise.

The omnic couldn't find the words, his vocaliser emitting a small hum of static. His hands that rest on his knees begin fidgeting, pulling at the soft fabric of his pants or rubbing the metal joints of his knuckles.

You can feel your heart fluttering, chest growing warm with what you believe is affection. The parts of you that you hate, he's sketched so perfectly. You're seeing yourself as he sees you.

"How long has this been going on for?"

Ramattra realised he never even dated them, but his memory serves him well in remembering the first time he sat there and sketched you. "Since the start of the year."

"And you've done so many-" You keep your eyes glued to the pages, admiring each and every single sketch. Some in pencil, some in pen.

"You are too beautiful not to draw." He chuckles when he sees the flush that instantly appears on your cheeks and he couldn't stop himself from bringing his hand up to cup your face.

You had reached the final page of the notebook, noticing how the final page was yet to be filled. Looking up at the omnic sat next to you, you're about to speak before he cuts you off.

"I was saving that page for now, if you would let me?" He watches as your eyes widen and that flush only deepens. The timid nod from you causes the omnic to tilt his head, his systems warming up.

His hands retrieve the book from you as he watches you get comfortable on the sofa. Before he starts, he hears you speak up.

"Thank you." You can sense the confusion so you elaborate. "For showing me. I didn't expect any of this."

"Thank you for being a perfect model." He chuckles along with your nervous giggle.

He admires you from the opposite end of the sofa, the way your eyes glittered in the light of the room, the flush that still painted your cheeks and the soft smile that graced your face.

Now knowing that you're aware of what he's been hiding all year, it causes his systems to heat up, fans whirring loudly in the otherwise quiet room. He speaks, a hint of sheepishness in his tone as he begins, pencil scratching at the final page of the book.

"You are the definition of beauty, you know?"

[bleaksqueak]

I drew so much of Gwennebat for the last chapter that now I miss drawing her lmao

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [11]

Vlad is planning something big, something powerful and he’s using his wealth and connections to make it happen. Danny realizes that his parents' tech and his friend's aid isn’t going to cut it, and brute forcing the matter as Phantom is just going to ruin his reputation permanently.

What he needs is another different fruitloop, and thankfully for him the world is pretty damn full of them.

but he needs a very specific fruitloop, the one with a big company, advanced high end tech, so much money they don’t really know what to do with it and preferably they gotta be an absent figure, because Danny is on a mission, he’s not looking to get a new parent (he has his own)

and after some searching he finds his guy

Oliver Queen

Now he just needs to get in on that, and he decides to do that by using what little he managed to remember from Vlad’s “you will be the heir of Dalv,co” rants and Sam’s ideas on environmentalism. cause Queen apparently cares a lot about giving back to the little guy.

Which is great! very important, even if his business kinda suffers from how he goes about it (but Danny can help with that! somehow! he’ll figure it out, can’t be that hard) 

We can’t all be Brucie Wayne, but we certainly can try.  

So anyway, shouldn’t be too hard, he’s got some history in the field of environment stuff what with the whole purple back gorilla thing.

and Ollie takes one good look at this smart enthusiastic black haired blue eyed teen and is like, “oh neat! my very own Tim Drake Wayne” and he just goes with it.

Danny’s hidden power of drawing in rich people is truly something to behold…

Oliver is more than happy to just let Danny do whatever he wants as long as it doesn’t break the law or look bad on him, and no drugs, he was very clear on that.

and Danny is like great, I can now work on undermining Vlad and ruin his plans!

but then… Dinah…

“Oliver Jonas Queen!”

oh shit, full named…

“You are not going to do a repeat of Roy!”

Dinah is very effective, and the whole thing starts small enough.

Oliver personally shows him around in the company, makes sure to introduce him to the important folks.

that evolves into occasionally checking up on him, making sure he takes the appropriate amount of breaks.

then he takes him to a baseball match, he had multiple tickets… would have been a waste to refuse.

Then Dinah insists he tags along for dinner in a restaurant (there were some others, it was actually not awkward at all somehow, quite nice really), this grows into dinner at the penthouse.

It's when Oliver expresses the desire to teach Danny archery, telling him there are a lot of things in the sport that are also applicable to business stuff that Danny comes to a sudden and violent realization.

He's being parented!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[biscuitdragonwithastick]

Minotaur Ranch

cw: cnc, dubious consent, monster fucking, bestiality(?)

Based on the Eggpregtober Fic 3

I keep imagining what it'd be like to work on a Minotaur Ranch.

The beasts mostly keep to themselves, grazing the fields and laying around in the shade. They can act real cute with you sometimes. Nuzzling into your palm when you scratch their head just right. Mooing impatiently to be let out after being cooped up at night. It's easy to forget they're running on primal instinct until one shoved you against a wall and rips through your pants.

That's when you remember the rules of the ranch: Don't pet the Minotaur, Don't feed the Minotaur, and Don't ever present your ass to a Minotaur.

You hadn't thought these rules were that important.

How could you have known that petting and rubbing their bodies with soothing touches would be seen as an act of submission. It never would have occurred to you that feeding them a bit of your lunch every once in a while would be seen as a sign of courtship.

And when you turned around to pick up some equipment off the floor, how could you foreseen that the bull behind you would take it as a sign you were in heat.

Muscular hands hold you off the ground. As your legs dangle below you, you feel the wet muzzle of your Minotaur lick into your neck. It's meant to be a soothing gestures as he lines his bovine cock against your opening, but all you feel is terror at the rough fucking about to take place.

You've seen the ways the Minotaur's fight each other in the fields. It's part of their DNA to show dominance to the weak. You've heard of monster "bitching" before, and you know it's supposed to be an act of ferocious claiming meant to humiliate a subservient other.

You close your eyes, waiting for the pain of being split on Minotaur cock, but instead yelp as they pull you up further off the ground and lick you. Their tongue is long, wet and thick, thicker than a human cock. You can't help but moan as it breaches your hole. That only seems to encourage it, roughly thrusting it's tongue into you as deep as it can go. You writhe in its grip. At the angle its holding you, you can look down and see its tongue pushing your skin taut.

Once it's satisfied you've been opened enough it moves you down, back over its cock and thrusts inside. It doesn't hurt. It's so gentle with you, fucking you like it knows you weren't built for the full force of a Minotaur's strength. You clench down as you cum from the treatment. It bellows loud and low at how good you feel.

It fucks you against the wall like that. Slowly rocking forward into your human frame You can't help but imagine if you had been any other Minotaur. Would it have fucked you harder? Or was Minotaur mating far softer than you gave them credit for? You'll have to answer those questions later. Right now, you just want to focus on your next orgasm.

You know its close when it starts to breathe heavier and thrust a little faster. Wet slapping sounds fill the air as its balls hit your thighs. In one final thrust, it groans and hot cum fills you. You can feel its balls draw up behind you. You didn't realize how long a Minotaur could cum until minutes passed and you were still being filled. Most of it has pooled between your legs and onto the floor, but your bulging tummy is aching from what little can fill it.

But you love it. You loved being bred by your bull. You wished you could be fucked over and over again just like this.

As it pulls out of you and holds you limp in its grasp, it hands you over to another Minotaur. The whole herd had watched you be claimed, now they think your a mare in heat. You can't blame them. As you spread your legs for the next bull, you think about how good it is to work on a Minotaur ranch.

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Lay Claim (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: The return of Agatha's ex stirs up feelings in you that would rather have been left in the past.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, a few swear words, angst, mommy kink kind of

When you were told the Witches Road would show you your deepest fears you’d been expecting something like clowns or zombies or the inescapable plod towards death. What you weren’t expecting was Agatha’s ex to show up and stir up all kinds of feelings. That was not the kind of fear you were thinking you would be shown.

Watching Agatha and Rio interact, you felt a pit in your stomach. Turning your gaze down to your bare feet, you scowled, not wanting to keep watching, not wanting to keep feeling. Your silence was all encompassing, not able to even feign interest while this show was going in front of you.

An arm wound through yours, startling you. Glancing up, blue eyes were staring out at the coven you’d unwittingly joined, lips pressed together.

“The universe is conspiring against me,” Agatha said, a displeased growl of a voice.

“Oh please. I doubt the universe is even thinking about you,” you replied.

She rolled her eyes but her lips pulled up into a small smile. The flutter of your heart shouldn’t have been your response, but anything that give her some modicum of entertainment always did that to you. You liked being able to make her happy, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“You can’t trust her,” she said, lowering her voice, eyes trained on Rio.

“I know,” you replied, a sick twist in your gut.

You’d met Agatha long before she’d gone after Wanda and gotten caught in Westview. Back then, it had been the fluttering beginnings of romantic feelings. Soft glances, fingers brushing together, soft whispers over spell books late at night. Right on the precipice of something more, you’d teetered for months, waiting for one of you to make a move. And then she’d disappeared.

When she’d walked into your shop with a teenager in tow, you’d been completely caught off guard. Your heart had thudded once, twice, in your chest and you’d had no words. But you’d shown up to her house at the allotted time. Of course you had. It was still a case of when she told you to jump, you asked how high.

After so many years apart with no word from her, you were jumping pretty fucking high to be with her again.

“She’ll hurt you for her own sick gain,” she said, her eyes still locked on the other woman.

Rio turned, looking over her shoulder at the two of you. The wink she gave only made your jaw clench. Those brown eyes lazily dragged from Agatha to you, her smirk settling deeper on her face before turning back to looking forward.

“You assume I can’t take care of myself,” you said, knowing you didn’t sound pleased.

In your peripheral vision, you saw her head finally turn towards you. Those brilliant blue eyes were like a ghostly caress, sweeping over you before settling on your face. She lent closer, her breath ghosting over your skin. You fought against a shiver, knowing there was no way to hide it with her so close.

“Can you?” she asked.

You turned towards her, nose almost brushing hers.

“Just because I’ve never fought you before doesn’t mean I can’t,” you said, “I’m not the one who had her powers taken. I didn’t choose to take such a big risk and ended up losing it all.”

“No need to be mean, kitten,” she said, lips pouting and like a moth to a flame, your gaze focused on them.

“Isn’t there?” you asked, your eyes meeting hers again.

She didn’t give you an answer, only drawing back far enough that the two of you weren’t sharing the same air. You glanced away, finding brown eyes watching in interest. Turning to stare out at the trees, you ignored that probing look from the only person you refused to give your answers to.

“I remember you talking more,” Agatha said as if you hadn’t been difficult, “a real chatty Cathy.”

“It’s been years. People change,” you said with a small shrug that she must have felt through the arm still wound around yours.

“I didn’t think you would,” she said.

“Why?” you asked, not sure what you were hoping to get from her.

“Because I liked you how you were,” she replied.

“But not now,” you said, hating that you’d asked in the first place.

“I’m still deciding,” she said, almost distantly, like the answer didn’t matter.

The answer definitely mattered.

Later, walking beside Jen, you were doing your best to not look at Agatha and Rio again. Snipping at each other, the animosity a front for unspoken sexual tension, you were finding it difficult not to listen in. It was making your skin itch.

“So you knew Agatha before all this?” Jen asked.

“Uh huh,” you said, still watching the two of them bickering.

“What was she like? When you knew her?” she asked.

“Uh… kind of similar to how she is now,” you replied, dragging your gaze away from her, “a liar, manipulative, but so much fun. She was my best friend.”

You glanced back to her, finding blue eyes already there to meet yours. The moment stretched and you felt yourself trembling. Forcing yourself to look away, you found Jen watching with interest.

“But that was years ago,” you said, waving off the pit in your gut, acting as if it no longer existed.

“What happened?” she asked.

“What always happens. She disappeared into the night,” you replied.

“So what? She dropped you without warning?” she asked.

You narrowed your eyes at her, considering her for a moment. She was still looking at you expectantly. You wrinkled your nose and sped up, leaving her behind without an answer. The weight of a heavy gaze stayed on you, longer than you were expecting. You refused to meet those eyes again, hating every second of what you were feeling. This was not what you’d signed up for.

Except it was.

“So what made you agree to this little adventure?”

You’d been so caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t realised that Rio had fallen into step beside you. You glanced over then away again, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“All encompassing power,” you replied.

“Ha, right,” she said, “I’m sure that was the incentive that had you joining this band of merry men.”

“What other reason could I have?” you snapped, immediately regretting it when you saw the lick of satisfaction passing over her face.

“Perhaps you feel a sense of loyalty for a certain beguiling witch,” she said.

You scoffed, hoping to cover up the exact reason.

“Or maybe,” she said, drawing even closer, breath ghosting over your ear, “you just want to please mommy.”

You jerked back, snapping your head around to look at her. She was grinning, delighting in your heated cheeks and thudding heart. Her hand slid along your lower back, curling around your hip as she tugged you closer. Your breath was a shudder and your skin felt on fire. Brown eyes rested on your lips for just a moment before finding yours again. You didn’t even realise the two of you had stopped walking.

“Is that why you’re doing it? Are you hoping to be mommy’s special girl?” she asked, voice lowering into a whisper.

You pressed your lips together, eyes darting up, searching for someone, anyone, who could interrupt this moment. Blue eyes flashed and you felt your breath catch.

“Take your hands off her,” Agatha growled.

“And why would I do that?” Rio asked, head rolling in the direction of the other witch.

“Because I told you to,” she said.

“But she’s such a pretty pet,” she said, looking back at you.

Her nail trailed over your lip, a threat held in the gentle touch. You shoved at her, only to find her pressing you closer, chest to chest, caught up in her arms like twisting vines. She drew closer, the scent of wet dirt and rotting leaves invading your nose.

“Stop,” Agatha said.

“No one lays claim to her,” Rio said, lips almost close enough to brush yours, “she’s free game.”

“I claim her.” Agatha’s voice had hardened.

The small noise you made was embarrassing. So close, there was no possibility Rio had missed it, probably locking it away to use against Agatha at a later date. But to hear those words after all this time… You hadn’t been able to stop yourself. Rio released you, stepping away with a small shrug.

“If you say so,” she said. Agatha snatched at your arm, steering you away from the other witch. Your jaw clenched but you let her, like a toy won in a game of tug of war between two toddlers. Ignoring the audience watching on, she strode off, leading everyone further down the road.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered under your breath.

“Yes,” she said, her voice still hard, “I did.”

You didn’t argue, letting her continue to steer you with the strong hold she had on your arm, just above your elbow, fingers digging in hard enough to make you wonder if there would be bruises there later. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, you thought.

She kept silent until you made camp, another day on the road leaving you weary. The flickering fire crackled, the voices of the women familiar in ways you hadn’t experienced in such a long time. Agatha sat beside you, silent and brooding, shoulder brushing against yours. Across the fire, Rio was watching with dark eyes and darker smile.

It felt as if you were turning into a pawn in a game of power you had never agreed to play.

When it came time to lay on the bed of leaves, you curled into a ball, your back to both women. All you wanted was a moment to yourself, the roiling in your stomach and the burning in your veins toxic, making it impossible to forget the jealousy you’d been grappling with this entire trip. This god forsaken trip. You squeezed your eyes closed, willing yourself to sleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, the sky never changing from perpetual night. Soft fingers were gently stroking through your hair. Your forehead was gently resting against the side of a warm thigh, your body curled towards the woman you’d missed more than you’d admitted to her. Your unconscious mind had sought out what you hadn’t let yourself want in your waking hours.

Keeping your eye closed, you pressed your face against Agatha’s leg. Her fingers stilled for a moment before continuing. It was soothing, her touch something you’d missed for so many years.

“I missed you,” you whispered, still soft with sleep, not quite able to stop yourself.

“I know you did, hon,” she said, still carding her fingers through your hair.

You sighed, knowing that was probably the best you were ever going to get from her. You shuffled away, dislodging her fingers. Sitting up, you plucked leaves from your hair, letting them flutter back to the road. She reached out for you but you shook your head.

“Don’t,” you said, “this is… I can’t do this.”

Scrabbling to your feet, you looked down at her. The expression on her face was hurt and confused before the mask slammed back into place.

“Fine by me,” she said, “if you can’t do it then you can’t do it.”

“Fine,” you said.

You spun on your heels and strode off, giving yourself the chance to calm down. The ache in your chest was only growing the more time you spent with her and you were certain it was going to end in heartbreak. For you, specifically. Even if she had done that whole claiming thing with Rio.

Which, you weren’t going to lie, was still making your knees weak when you thought about it.

Shoving your fingers through the front of your hair, clenching your fist, you stared out at the road. You should have never agreed to join Agatha’s coven. You’d known it was a bad idea even as you’d shown up to her house. And yet here you were, like a love sick puppy, unable to say no to her.

“Just to be clear, what is the this you can’t do?”

You jumped, spinning around. Agatha, in all of her witchy glory, had managed to follow you on silent feet.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” you admonished, your heart beating too fast in your chest.

“I see your perceptive abilities are still the same as ever,” she said.

“You know what? I take it back. I wish you’d left me alone,” you said.

“You don’t mean that, hon,” she said.

“I do,” you said, “because then I wouldn’t feel like this and I could have continued on assuming you’d just grown tired of me instead of whatever is going on now.”

“You thought I’d grown tired of you?” she asked.

You glanced up, finding those blue eyes staring at you with such intensity it made you shiver.

“We argued about you going after Wanda, but you went anyway and when you didn’t come back I just assumed…” you said, trailing off.

“That I was finished with you,” she finished for you.

“I mean, now I know that wasn’t it, and don’t get me wrong, I want to crucify Wanda for what she did to you. But then on the other hand, it hasn’t exactly been the way it was before you left,” you said.

“I’m glad you recognise you’ve been acting out of character,” she said.

“Not me,” you snapped, “you. You’ve been all mooney eyed over Rio. Lingering glances and stolen looks and bickering all over the place.”

“Careful, kitten. You’re sounding jealous,” she said, taking a swaying step closer.

“Say’s the woman who was ready to throw down with a woman who simply touched me,” you said.

“She was doing a bit more than touch you,” she scoffed.

You closed the gap with her, both hands grasping her face. Her own hands came up, fingers curling around your wrists in a tight grip.

“Don’t throw stones in glass houses, Agatha,” you warned, pulling her closer.

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmured, making your heart ache, “before that bitch put me under her spell, when I was there in Westview getting ready to take her magic. The entire time I wished you were there with me.”

“And now? Do you still wish I was with you?” you asked.

“More than anything,” she whispered.

“And Rio?” you asked.

“Can burn in hell,” she replied, “and if she touches you again she won’t be making it to the end of the road. You’re mine, pet, and only mine.”

“As long as you know I claim you too,” you said.

She lingered, a hair’s breadth from your lips. With your hands still cupping her cheeks, you closed the distance, kissing her the way you’d spent so long dreaming of. It wasn’t the stuff of romance, soft and sweet and butterfly inducing. She kissed you like she owned you, possessing you. You dragged her closer, pressing your body to hers, wanting to feel every inch of her.

The kissed deepened. Heat spread through your veins and you moaned, hands sliding from her cheeks to her hair, tangling your fingers in it until it pulled. Her teeth sunk into your lower lip. You whimpered into her mouth, clutching tighter, not caring how needy you were being. You’d waited long enough for this. You weren’t about to play it cool enough for her to think she’d made the wrong decision by kissing you.

She dragged herself away from your lips, eyes darkened and lips kiss swollen, a flush high on her cheeks. You thought she’d never looked so beautiful, nor more desirable. She was the kind of temptation that had your knees growing weak.

“I bet you’re not wishing I’d left you alone now,” she said, but the breathless note undercut the cocky attitude she was trying for.

“Shut up,” you laughed, pulling her in for another kiss.

You didn’t know how much time passed like that, losing yourself in her. But when you returned to the fire once more, you curled up beside her, head resting in her lap, letting her fingers run through your hair once more. It was the best you’d slept in quite a long time.

The next day, no one mentioned the change between the two of you, but they didn’t have to. It was obvious. Agatha had laid claim to you and you, without any argument, had laid claim to her too.

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ the little things ! ↳ logan howlett x reader

logan had a way of doing the small things that stayed with you long after they happened. he wasn’t loud about it, didn’t make a point to draw attention to the little ways he cared. it was just him - instinctive, unthinking, like it was in his nature to keep you safe, to look out for you.

he wasn’t big on sharing food. if someone reached for his plate without warning, they’d get a glare sharp enough to freeze them in place. but with you, it was different. the first time it happened, you’d both been at a diner, seated across from each other in the worn booth. logan had ordered a burger, the kind stacked so high it looked impossible to eat, and he’d slid the plate toward you without a word.

“what?” you’d asked, eyebrows raised.

“just try it,” he said, like it was obvious, like handing over the first bite of his food was the most natural thing in the world.

hesitant but curious, you picked it up, taking a bite. the savory, smoky flavor hit your tongue, and you let out a soft hum of approval. logan’s lips twitched in what could almost pass as a smile, and only then did he take the plate back and dig in.

after that, it wasn’t unusual for him to set a piece of his food aside for you. whether it was the first bite or the last, it was always yours if you wanted it. sometimes, it was subtle - a quiet gesture that didn’t need words. you’d catch him slicing off the end of his steak and sliding it onto your plate, or nudging the last fry your way like it wasn’t a big deal.

“you don’t have to do that, you know,” you’d said once, picking up a bite of his food and holding it out toward him instead.

logan shrugged, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “yeah, but i want to.”

simple as that.

then there were the moments when you leaned into him. you tried not to make a habit of it - logan wasn’t exactly the cuddly type - but sometimes, it just happened. like when you were showing him something on your phone, leaning closer to let him see the screen. at first, he stiffened slightly, his shoulder tense beneath you, but after a second, he relaxed, his attention fixed on what you were pointing out.

it was the same when you took photos together. logan wasn’t a fan of pictures, often grumbling about how he didn’t see the point, but when you insisted, he’d give in. and without fail, your head would rest lightly against his shoulder. he didn’t say anything about it - didn’t move away or complain. he just let you stay there, his presence steady and solid beside you.

you remembered the first time you kissed him on the nose. it had been spontaneous, a playful moment when you couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. logan had blinked, caught off guard, before pulling back slightly.

“what was that for?” he’d asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“not sure,” you replied, smiling up at him.

he’d muttered something under his breath, shaking his head, but there was no missing the way his mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. after that, it became a quiet ritual. sometimes, he’d lean in close, and you’d take the opportunity to plant a soft kiss on his nose. other times, he’d catch you off guard, brushing his lips lightly against yours or returning the favor with a quick, almost shy kiss on your nose.

logan had a way of looking out for you without making a big deal about it. it showed in the way he’d zip up your jacket if you forgot, his hands rough but careful as they tugged the zipper into place. or the way he’d button it up if you were too cold to manage it yourself.

“you don’t need to baby me,” you’d said once, your words teasing even as you let him fuss over you.

he’d given you a pointed look, his eyebrows raised. “just makin’ sure you don’t freeze. you’re welcome.”

it wasn’t just the little things he did for you - it was the way he made you feel like you mattered. like keeping you safe and comfortable was second nature to him.

you first noticed his habit of guiding you to the inside of the sidewalk during a late-night walk. the streets were quiet, the air crisp, and logan’s hand brushed against your wrist as he gently moved you to the safer side of the path. it was such a small, simple thing, but it made your heart ache in the best way.

“you don’t have to do that,” you said softly, glancing up at him.

logan’s gaze flicked toward you, his expression unreadable. “yeah, i do,” he replied, his voice low and firm, like there wasn’t room for argument.

after that, it became second nature. you didn’t even think about it anymore - logan’s hand would find yours or settle lightly against your back, steering you without a word.

it was the same when he dropped you off anywhere. he never drove off until he was sure you were safely inside. it didn’t matter if you were just running in for a second or if you told him not to wait - he’d still sit there, engine idling, his gaze fixed on the door.

one night, you turned back to wave at him after unlocking the door, only to find him still parked in the driveway, his silhouette barely visible through the windshield. you felt a warm rush of affection at the sight, and when you made it inside, you peeked out the window to see his truck finally pulling away.

logan didn’t talk about how he felt, not directly. but in the small, quiet moments - the gestures that seemed so effortless - you found pieces of his heart. and maybe that was what made them so meaningful. they weren’t grand or showy; they were just him, offering his care in the ways that mattered most.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[iateyourparents]

hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple

deaf, mute and blind | j.g.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader

summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.

warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)

an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!

pictures are from pinterest :)

“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.

“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.

“Today I’m gonna torture my guests… No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but…they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”

“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.

“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”

You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.

“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”

You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.

“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.

“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.

Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.

“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.

“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.

When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.

She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.

You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.

You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.

Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.

“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.

Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.

“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.

“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.

Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.

When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.

Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.

“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.

You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.

When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.

Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.

You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.

You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.

“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.

Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.

“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.

You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.

Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.

Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.

“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.

Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.

“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.

“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.

“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.

“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”

“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”

You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.

“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.

“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.

[finelinefae]

reaching out [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: just one moment out of very many of tennis!h pining over y/n before they teamed up.

word count: 5.5k

contains: enemies to lovers, pining h, angst, abusive parents, mentions of physical abuse, tennis rivals, fluff

a/n: very first tennis!h blurb omggg - i missed my babies so much!! For those who don't know, this is a blurb for my tennis!h series which you can read here !!

. . .

Harry stretched his legs, working his calf muscles, as people settled into their seats in the stands. Today was a big day, one that had drawn a large crowd, but he paid them no mind. Performing in front of a big audience never shook Harry’s confidence. When it came to tennis, his focus was entirely on the game.

It was the county cup semi-final. Harry had competed in the same event last year, finishing in second place behind Henry Waver, who took home the gold before heading to rehab a month later for using performance-enhancing drugs. Harry had come a long way since then, and he was determined to make it to the final and claim first place.

Some might have thought Harry no longer needed to compete in these smaller events, given his path toward qualifying for the Olympics, but he couldn’t stay away. Maybe it was the rush of winning, or perhaps the quiet focus that settled over him when the game began—just him, his opponent, and the swift rhythm of the ball being hit back and forth between them.

He walked over to his bench, some people cheering as he walked onto the court. He was wearing all white, a towel around his shoulders and his racket bag hanging from his shoulder. He reached for his water bottle, pouring it into his mouth. 

His eyes scanned the growing crowd, but there was no sign of his parents—not that he had expected anything different. He caught a glimpse of Mitch chatting with a few girls from their year group on the stairs, but Harry's focus shifted immediately to the center of the stands, only to find it empty.

A frown tugged at his lips, the first sign of emotion since this morning. He glanced around, searching for the one person his heart longed to see, but before he could spot her, his coach clapped him on the back.

"Remember what we worked on yesterday—don’t overstep the baseline and make sure to follow through," his coach muttered, his tone more routine than encouraging.

Harry barely registered the words. He shrugged off his coach’s hand, distracted. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled, his mind still preoccupied with trying to figure out why she hadn’t shown up yet.

The opposing crowd erupted into cheers as Lionel Boyce stepped onto the court, raising a hand to acknowledge their applause. Harry barely spared him a glance. He had crossed paths with Lionel plenty of times in his tennis journey and knew the truth behind the polished exterior—Lionel was an arrogant opportunist, desperate for sponsorship deals.

Harry took a swig of water, his grip tightening on the bottle as he set it down and reached for his racket. The game was drawing closer, but the empty seat in the center of the stands—the one he had been watching all afternoon—remained vacant. His chest tightened at the thought of someone else filling it. He wasn’t sure how he’d play with a stranger sitting there instead of the person he was hoping for.

The umpire climbed into his seat, and the announcement for the game’s start echoed across the court. Harry felt a firm pat on the back from his coach as he stepped forward.

“Go show him what you’re made of,” his coach said with a nod.

The crowd erupted as Harry walked onto the court. Most of the cheers came from the Crestwood supporters, and while it wasn’t the loudest reception, it was enough to steady his nerves.

Across the court, Lionel sauntered into position, basking in the applause. Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as Lionel flashed his best grin to the crowd. He didn’t miss the way a group of girls in the front row seemed to swoon, whispering excitedly among themselves.

The umpire adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, play shall begin. First set—Harry Styles to serve."

Harry stepped into position at the baseline, gripping his racket tightly. As always, he raised it and pointed toward the center of the crowd—a ritual that steadied his nerves and granted him good luck for the game.

But this time, his breath hitched.

There she was, sliding into the seat he’d been watching all afternoon. Y/N.

Her eyes found his almost instantly, and for a fleeting moment, the world around him fell away—the roaring crowd, the pressure of the match, even Lionel’s smug presence on the other side of the net. It was just her, sitting there with that familiar stoic expression.

A small smile tugged at Harry’s lips. She was always like this at his matches, focused and intense, watching every move with the same concentration as if she were playing herself. Her unwavering focus sent a spark of determination surging through him.

He adjusted his stance, exhaling slowly as he prepared to serve. With her gaze burning into him, he played to win the entire thing. 

. . .

Mitch had thrown a party to celebrate Harry’s victory over Lionel, just as he always did whenever Harry won anything. It was a tradition Harry had grown fond of, even though he often found himself dreading the expectation to win every time he played. Victory wasn’t typically celebrated in his world—it was expected. But his friends? They always found a way to make a big deal out of it, and Harry appreciated that, even if the attention wasn’t his favorite part. Being around his friends was.

Harry stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of something he couldn’t identify. Mitch was across the room, chatting animatedly with Sarah. Harry was pretty sure Mitch had been infatuated with her ever since she’d transferred to Crestwood four years ago. Watching them, he wondered if Mitch would ever work up the courage to act on it.

He couldn’t help but glance around, hoping to spot someone else. He knew Sarah’s best friend and roommate might be here, too, but there was no guarantee. Unlike Sarah, who thrived on Crestwood’s social gatherings, her quieter counterpart was more selective about where she spent her evenings.

“Hi, Harry.” He turned to see Astrid approaching, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin glowing with a fresh tan from her recent holiday in the Maldives. He’d only known about it because his mother, after scrolling through Facebook, couldn’t resist mentioning it during their last phone call.

“Hey, Astrid,” Harry said with a polite smile. He didn’t mind her company, but unlike most of the guys in their year, he didn’t feel attracted to her in the same way they did. Sure, she was stunning—legs for days, an effortless smile—but their shared interests barely went beyond tennis and the fact their parents were friends. Friends who, annoyingly, had been dropping hints about the two of them dating for as long as Harry could remember.

“Congrats on the win. You were amazing out there,” she said, her voice smooth and practiced.

“Thanks. I heard you did well at the Championships the other week,” he replied. He hadn’t actually seen her match but knew through their coach that she’d won.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to qualify for the Australian Open,” she said, her grin widening.

Harry nodded, letting the conversation drift until his gaze caught something—or rather, someone—in the living room. His heart skipped a beat.

There she was.

Her smile lit up her face, radiant and warm, eclipsing even the moonlight streaming through the large windows. Her hair spilled to one side, leaving her neck bare, and she was wearing a sleek black maxi dress paired with chunky heels—an outfit so out of the ordinary for her that it was almost disarming. Harry’s eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, but he didn’t care. He’d been hoping she’d come.

His smile faltered when Adam appeared beside her. Harry’s stomach tightened at the sight. He knew Adam had a soft spot for her—he’d admitted as much—but assured everyone he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Still, seeing them together made something uneasy churn in Harry’s chest.

“Harry?” Astrid’s voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she’d been saying. She followed his line of sight and spotted Y/N. Her tone shifted, tinged with something that wasn’t quite approval.

“Oh, Y/N’s here,” Astrid remarked flatly. “I’m surprised after…everything.”

Harry’s head whipped toward her, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, her surprise seeming genuine. “One of my friends was at the Country Club a couple of weekends ago. She got lost trying to find the bathroom near the pool and overheard her dad yelling at her—apparently for getting a bad grade on her report card. She said he slapped her.”

Harry’s stomach dropped, cold fury replacing the unease. “He what?”

Astrid shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ve always thought her family was messed up. My dad had a horrible experience at their Country Club—almost sued them after Mom got food poisoning there.” She kept talking, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore.

His attention snapped back to Y/N, watching her closely. Something was different. To anyone else, she probably seemed the same, but Harry knew her too well. He noticed the way her fingers twisted together, fidgeting nervously. Her smile, though bright, didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her makeup seemed heavier than usual; she rarely wore much or applied it sparingly, but today, it looked as though she was trying to mask something—maybe a shadow or imperfection on her cheek, though he couldn’t be sure.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. If what Astrid said was true, there was no doubt in his mind—he’d track down her father and make him regret it in ways that didn’t bear sunlight. But first, he needed to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. The problem was, Harry knew her well enough to realise she wouldn’t just open up if he asked. They weren’t even friends. In fact, Harry was pretty sure Y/N didn’t like him at all. 

It wasn’t really a surprise, considering how they’d met—and the fact that he’d spent most of his days tormenting her just to get her attention. It was childish, he knew, but it was easier than admitting how much he actually cared. And he did care—more than he should, more than she probably realised. Beneath all the teasing and arguments, she mattered to him. So, if she was hurt, none of that other stuff mattered. He just needed to make sure she was okay.

When Harry saw Adam walk away, he seized the opportunity to sneak in. As if she could sense his presence, Y/N looked up, her smile immediately fading, and her jaw tightened. Harry couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. There was something exhilarating about her reaction, the way she shifted from neutral to visibly irritated, even if it was driven by nothing but disdain for him.

“I’m surprised you were willing to show up, love,” he said, his voice carrying the familiar, mocking tone.

Y/N’s eyes flashed with irritation at the nickname, her posture stiffening even further. Harry had always loved calling her that—it was almost like a reflex, especially since she absolutely hated it. He relished in the way she bristled, every time.

“Not so willingly, as a matter of fact,” she shot back, her arms folding across her chest. “I’m only here because Sarah wanted me to come.” She still hadn’t taken a sip from her drink, Harry noticed, as if it were some kind of shield between them.

“Excuses, excuses.” He clicked his tongue with a grin, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “What did you think of the match?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his question. “You care what I have to say?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

“No,” Yes. he replied, his eyes gleamed with a spark of challenge. “But I know you’ve got something to say anyway.”

She gave him a wry smile, the faintest hint of a laugh on her lips. “Well, it wasn’t one of your best, that’s for sure. Your tracking was terrible. You were lucky Lionel cared more about his appearance than his technique.”

Harry couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped him. He knew she wasn’t wrong—tracking had been off, and Lionel had certainly played a little too carefully. The dig was unsurprising to say the least but he took it all on board.

“You always have such charming critiques, don’t you?” Harry smirked. “Should I be worried about your career in commentary?”

Y/N’s replied, the sarcasm was back in full force. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stick to calling it how I see it. You wouldn’t last five minutes with me in your corner, would you?”

Harry leaned in a little closer, their banter familiar and comfortable despite the tension. “You’d be too distracted by my charm to focus,” he said with a grin, savoring the challenge in her eyes.

Y/N scoffed but couldn’t entirely hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Right. I think you’d find me too busy pointing out all the flaws you refuse to see.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away, the intensity between them palpable in the silence that followed.

“So,” Harry started, the tone shifting slightly, more serious, “what else? What else did you think of the match?” He genuinely wanted to know—part of him knew her critique might actually help him. But the other part of him just liked the way she made him think.

Y/N seemed to hesitate for a split second, the walls she kept up around her cracking just enough for him to notice. “Your footwork was off, too. You were slow on some of your returns, and—”

Harry laughed, cutting her off. “I thought you said you weren’t a fan?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not. But I’ve watched enough matches to know when someone’s not giving it their all.” Her gaze flicked to his eyes, sharp and clear. “And I know you can do better.”

Harry’s smile faltered, something unspoken passing between them, something that felt almost like respect. He had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the match anymore.

“Well,” he said after a beat, straightening up, “I guess I’ll have to show you just how much better I can be, then.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away, her lips pursed as if she were weighing her options. Finally, she shrugged, that same familiar look of defiance in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on her for longer than he intended, “What about you?” He took a sip of his drink. 

She frowns, “What about me?”

“I haven’t seen you training recently,” He said. 

Y/N’s expression faltered, her eyes flashing with something like hurt or fear. “I haven’t had time.”

“What do you mean? I don’t think I’ve spent a day where I haven’t seen you on the court.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he studied her. There was something about the way she shifted on her feet, the subtle way her fingers tightened around the cup in her hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d sensed something was off, but hearing her say she didn’t want to talk about it made his curiosity spike. It was rare for Y/N to hide anything, especially from him. He’d spent enough time observing her—dissecting her every reaction, every word—to know when something wasn’t right.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, leaning forward, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because he knew she wouldn’t believe it—not after everything.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Harry thought she might brush him off entirely. Instead, she let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Since when?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. She was right—he had never given her much reason to trust him. But right now, as much as it pissed him off that she was shutting him out, he couldn’t help but feel... protective. There was something going on with her, something more than she was letting on, and it was like a switch had flipped inside him.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer now, “I’m not gonna push you, but if something’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. You know that, right?”

Her eyes finally met his, and for a brief moment, Harry thought he saw a crack in her tough exterior—a flicker of vulnerability—but it was gone in an instant. She shook her head, her gaze hardening.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Harry didn’t buy it, and he didn’t think she expected him to. He knew he was on dangerous territory—one misstep, and no doubt she would lash out at him for putting his nose into business that was nothing to do with him. But something in him refused to let this go. He couldn’t just sit there, watching her shut him out.

“Come with me,” he said, motioning for her to follow him, the command in his voice surprising even him.

Y/N glanced at him, confused, her arms still crossed defensively. “What?”

“I’m taking you outside,” Harry said, already standing and grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. He could tell she was about to protest, could see the hesitation in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of something—determination, maybe, or a mix of things he couldn’t quite name. “You need a break. You’re tense as hell, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Harry cut her off. “Trust me. It’ll be good for you.”

For a moment, Y/N seemed like she might just walk away, but then she sighed, as if giving in to the inevitable. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”

Harry smirked, fighting the urge to laugh. “No promises,” he teased, already walking toward the door.

Outside, the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the empty tennis courts. Harry tossed her a tennis racket, watching as she caught it awkwardly. He was doing this for her—for whatever was weighing on her, for whatever had her retreating behind that wall. He wasn’t sure if tennis was the right call, but it was something he knew they both shared, something that might bring down some of her defenses.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious about this?”

“Dead serious,” Harry replied, stepping onto the court. He grinned at her.

She hesitated before stepping onto the court, but when she did, Harry could see a flicker of something else in her—the tension in her shoulders loosening, just a bit. She wasn’t fully on board yet, but the corners of her lips twitched upward, and that was something.

They began to rally, hitting the ball back and forth with the kind of casual ease that came from years of practice. Y/N’s form was sharp, fluid, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed, as he always was. But it wasn’t just the way she played that had him captivated.

It was the way she laughed.

The sound was light, unguarded, a sound he hadn’t heard from her in so long. It was like the weight of everything had lifted for a moment, leaving behind only the carefree side of Y/N he rarely got to see. She had a natural smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made them sparkle with a mischievous glint. Harry couldn’t look away.

Her laughter filled the air, echoing across the empty courts, and for a fleeting second, everything felt right. Harry’s heart skipped in his chest as he watched her, the way her eyes shone with a genuine sense of freedom. It wasn’t just the way she looked in that moment—it was how she felt, and how much he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He had always known he had a thing for her—he didn’t even try to deny it anymore. But this was different. He wasn’t just in awe of how she looked, or the way she challenged him to be better—he was infatuated with her.

The thought hit him hard, and he tried to push it aside, to focus on the game. But with every smile, every laugh, Harry found himself falling deeper, in a way that he couldn’t control. There was something about her—the way she made everything feel effortless, the way her presence seemed to fill up the space, making everything more vibrant. She was everything he wasn’t—bold, unafraid, untouchable in some ways. And Harry was starting to realize how much he wanted to be the one to reach her.

When Y/N hit a particularly good shot and spun around with that radiant smile, Harry felt a flutter in his chest. He swallowed, his throat tight, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being this close to her without completely falling apart.

“You’re not half bad,” she teased, breathless from the rally.

Harry grinned, the praise warming him in a way he hadn’t expected. “I know. You should be honored to play with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

And there it was again—her laugh, the way she made everything feel lighter. Harry caught himself smiling at her, not the cocky, playful smile he usually wore, but something more sincere. Something that spoke volumes of how much he was starting to feel for her—how much he had already felt.

They rallied for another few minutes, the sun dipping lower as the evening air turned cooler. But Harry wasn’t paying attention to the time, or the way the game was unfolding. All he could focus on was the way her hair caught the last of the sunlight, the way her eyes gleamed with happiness—and how damn beautiful she was.

“You’re good,” Harry finally said, his voice quieter than usual, almost like a confession.

Y/N gave him a curious look, then smirked. “You finally noticing?”

He wanted to say more, to tell her exactly what he was thinking—but it would only complicate things. Instead, he just nodded, watching her carefully, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’ve always noticed,” he said, his voice a little too soft, betraying the quiet ache he felt inside.

Y/N paused, her expression softening for a brief moment before her usual mask of sarcasm slipped back into place. “Well, I’m glad you finally decided to admit it.”

The smile she gave him in return was genuine, full of warmth. And for a moment, Harry forgot about the rest of the world, just watching her, heart in his throat, wondering how he had gotten so lucky—and so lost in someone who would never even look at him the same way.

Y/N took a few steps back, wiping a hand across her forehead, trying to shake off the intensity of the game and the weight of the conversation that had been hanging between them. Harry still stood there, watching her, his breath a little heavier from the rally but his focus unwavering. It was as if he was waiting for something to break, for her to say the words he didn’t want to hear but somehow feared.

She didn’t look at him for a moment, her eyes scanning the ground like she was trying to find some way out. But then, when she spoke, her voice was softer than usual, almost reluctant. "You were right earlier... about me being tense," she said, barely above a whisper.

Harry tilted his head, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. His heart rate picked up, and he took a tentative step toward her. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, clearly at war with herself, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. But Harry could see the way her fingers curled tighter around her tennis racket, the way her shoulders were drawn up protectively.

“Something happened... with my dad,” she finally admitted, the words slipping out in a rush, like she couldn’t stop them once she started.

Harry’s chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, unwilling to push her too much. "What happened?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes redder than usual, her face more vulnerable than he'd ever seen it. "He... slapped me," she said, the words a simple admission but heavy enough to make the air around them thick with tension.

The air in Harry’s lungs seemed to stop for a moment. His chest tightened, fists clenching at his sides as the words echoed in his mind. Slapped her.

He was careful not to let the anger build, though it was hard. The thought of anyone hurting her—let alone her father—lit a fire of fury inside him, but he knew he couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when she was looking at him like that, so fragile and raw.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost as if he were afraid the words might break something inside her. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, her lips trembling slightly. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured, her voice thick with something he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry replied quickly, his gaze steady. He took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m angry, though. At him. But I’m not pitying you, Y/N. You’re... you’re strong. You don’t deserve that. You never have.”

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to steady herself. Harry could see her fighting it—fighting the tears, fighting the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

“I got a low grade on my report card this semester,” she whispered after a beat, her voice so small it almost hurt to hear. “My parents think it’s because I spend too much time playing. They threatened to stop funding my schooling if I didn’t quit. Not that I’m going to quit, but I have to lay low for a while.”

Harry’s heart broke at her words. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, the thought of her in such a difficult situation, but he forced himself to stay composed. She was so strong, but there was only so much someone could take.

“Does he…” Harry hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to speak, but he forced them out anyway, “Does he do that often?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak but paused, her gaze dropping to the ground for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, and Harry felt that pit in his stomach grow deeper with each passing second. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“It wasn’t the first time,” she said, her voice faltering. “But he doesn’t do it often.”

Harry’s eyes darkened with barely-contained anger. His hands clenched at his sides, a reflex he couldn’t control. “Y/N, he shouldn’t be doing it at all,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and tight. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her, but something held him back. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he didn’t want to push her further away.

“No man should ever lay a hand on you,” he added, his voice raw with emotion. “Not ever. You don’t deserve that. No one does.”

Y/N stayed quiet for a long time, her face a mixture of exhaustion and something else Harry couldn’t name. She looked up at him, eyes glistening, but there was no hint of softness in her expression. She had her walls up again, already rebuilding what little had cracked.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Harry,” she said firmly, her voice regaining some of its usual sharpness. “And I don’t need you to protect me. I’ll deal with it.”

Harry’s chest tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But you don’t have to do it alone,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice softer now. “I can’t just stand by and pretend like nothing’s wrong. You shouldn’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She shook her head, but this time, there was no bite in it—just a sad resignation. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, her eyes darting to the side. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected. I don’t want your help. I just want to get through this on my own.”

Harry could feel the walls she’d built between them—walls made of pain and pride—climbing higher, and the instinct to break them down was strong. But he knew, deep down, he couldn’t force her to open up, especially not when she wasn’t ready.

“I’m not trying to save you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just here. Whenever you need someone to listen, or... whatever else you need. Just know that.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but he could see the smallest tremor in her shoulders as she exhaled. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

“I don't need help,” she said, her words like a wall being slammed shut. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need anyone to try and fix me.”

Harry’s heart dropped, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. But he understood. She was trying to keep control of a situation that was already slipping through her fingers. And maybe she wasn’t ready to let him in, no matter how much he wanted to be there for her.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the weight of his emotions slipping through despite himself. “I just... I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and guarded. “I don’t need help but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry’s chest tightened, but he didn’t let his gaze drop. “Alright,” he said softly. “But I’ll be here. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N didn’t respond, and Harry didn’t push. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, looking at her, wishing he could say more—do more—make her feel safe, but knowing it wasn’t his place to force anything. For now, all he could do was wait.

And somehow, that felt worse than anything.

“Want to go another round?” Harry asked, his voice lighter, searching for a way to ease the tension.

“I think we should probably head back. Sarah might be looking for me.” Y/Ns expression softens.

“Right” the last thing Harry wanted to do was leave this pocket of space they were in together. He savoured any rare moment of time he had with her alone and this was one of them.

They walked side by side, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken truths. As they approached his flat, Y/N glanced at him, her voice quiet but firm. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. I don’t want you to look at me differently just because I couldn’t defend myself against my dad. I’m strong—it just… it caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Harry stopped, turning to her with an earnestness that made her chest tighten. “Y/N, this doesn’t change a thing. Not about how I see you, or what I think of you. You’re still the strongest person I know.”

Her lips quirked in a small, tentative smile. “Good,” she said softly. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, “And you better win the final.”

Harry chuckled, his own smile breaking through. For her, he would.

For her, he’d do anything.

. . . 

Harry walked into the school the next day with his tie askew, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his white t-shirt underneath, and his blazer slung casually over his shoulder, hooked with his middle finger. He had no particular reason to look so disheveled—he just liked the chaos it seemed to cause.

As he passed Mitch’s locker, he caught sight of Y/N walking down the hallway. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, like she was in her own world, but Harry couldn’t resist. He flashed a smirk and called out, “Hey, love.”

She immediately paused and turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, then the corner of her lips twitched slightly, but her eyes were all ice.

“Seriously?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, seriously,” Harry teased, not backing down. “You got something against me saying hello?”

“Not really,” she replied dryly, her arms crossing over her chest. “But I’m guessing you’re doing it just to get a reaction.”

“You know me too well,” Harry said with a grin. “But still, can’t help it. You just look... irresistible when you’re pissed off.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement hiding beneath the irritation. Without saying a word, she lifted her middle finger and gave him a quick, deliberate flip-off. Then, as she turned to walk away, she allowed herself to smile, just a little—just enough for Harry to catch it.

He watched her walk off, his smirk fading as something tighter, warmer, filled his chest. He had always loved the way she carried herself—so confident, even when she was annoyed with him. He liked that she never made it easy. But right now, as she walked away, all he could think was how much he was falling for her.

"God," he muttered under his breath, watching her disappear down the hallway. "I’m so screwed."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud IX

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: After the preseason against Barcelona

Someone is watching you.

It's nothing you can prove, of course. It's nothing you really care that much about either.

You've just managed to draw against Barcelona in a preseason friendly. Of course there would be someone watching. A lot of someones actually but you don't find yourself minding too much as you head over to your parents.

They're on the far side of the pitch, waving to the very few Spanish Bayern fans that have come out to watch the team play.

You wiggle your way between them and Magda's arm automatically comes to rest on your shoulder. She angles her face towards you slightly, a smile on her face as she presses a quick kiss to your hairline.

Pernille takes your hand on the other side and you smile at her, leaning your head against her shoulder.

It feels good to demonstrate your skills.

In front of your new teammates. In front of your new manager. In front of Barcelona, to make them worry when you're on the pitch, to show them they aren't as bulletproof as the fans think they are.

But, right now, all you can do is smile as your sign things for the very few Bayern fans that have come over to watch your team play for them.

"You did very well today," Pernille says to you, squeezing your hand softly.

"Enough for a lamb?"

"You know the rules," Pernille replies with practiced exasperation," You'll have to really impress. Show me you can really care for one."

You huff, putting on a bit of a show.

This is a practiced dance between you and Pernille, a more playful back and forth now that you've moved to Germany. Pernille pretends that she's more opposed to getting a sweet lamb than she actually is and you pretend to be more annoyed than you actually are that you're being refused.

"Oh come on, Pernille!" Magda says from your other side," I really think she's deserved it!"

Magda's also apart of all this teasing. She backs you up, insists that you've already proven yourself despite having never had a pet in your life. The extent of your animal caring abilities is filling up the bird feeder in the garden.

Of course, you've also got that little binder you made a few years ago with how to take care of lambs and sheep and when to sheer them and what to feed them and how you can make them happy.

Pernille had made you make it after she realised you were serious about raising a lamb for yourself.

You update it every so often, just to show her that this isn't something that you've forgotten about.

Arms close around your waist and you shriek as you're lifted into the air.

You can hear Pernille and Magda laugh as you're hoisted up and you flail your legs around when you're airborne for too long.

"Frido!" You shriek," Let me down!"

Frido shakes you, using her height difference against you before unceremoniously dumping you onto the ground.

You roll onto your back, panting with a smile as you look up at her. "That was mean."

"What has the world come to?" She asks no one in particular," That an aunt can't pick up and shake her little niece anymore?"

"I'm not little."

She grins down at you. "I remember you before your growth spurt," She says," You'll always be my little niece."

Frido offers you a hand.

You take it and pull her down.

She shrieks at the sudden force of your pull and falls onto the grass next to you.

You laugh, letting Pernille help you up and dust the dirt off your shirt.

Frido does the same with her own clothes, flicking a stray piece of grass at you that you bat away easily.

"Good game," She says, ruffling your hair," You had us on our toes."

"Just..." You glance behind you, feeling that same prickly feeling of eyes on your back," Just wanted to impress."

"Well, you certainly did that." Frido leans closer, like she's about to tell you a secret. "But I don't think it's just on who you wanted to watch you."

She jerks her chin over your shoulder and you follow her gaze.

Alexia Putellas is by the bench, talking and gesturing wildly over at you to the new Barcelona manager. You don't quite remember his name but you know what he looks like and even from this far of a distance away, you know he's looking straight at you.

"Best hope Bayern put a big price on her release clause," Frido says to your mothers and you feel Magda freeze behind you.

Her mouth dry, she speaks. "What?"

"Just saying," Frido laughs," A performance like that? In preseason? At a club she's just moved to? You and I both know she's a talent. Alexia doesn't really enjoy talents like that outside of Barcelona."

Magda pulls your back against her front, arms hanging over your shoulders. "They can't have her. She's a minor. They need our permission."

"She'll be eighteen soon," Frido reminds Magda.

"Still. They can't force her to come. I won't let them. I just got her back."

"We just got her back," Pernille corrects.

"Besides," You laugh," Momma won't even let me get a lamb yet. I don't think she'll be too happy sending me off to Spain."

Frido laughs, ruffling your hair again. "I think you'll find Barcelona can be quite persuasive when they need to be. How else do you think we got Ewa with us?"

"Dumb luck?"

Frido gasps dramatically. "You know what, young lady? Come here!"

She reaches for you and you duck out of the way, sprinting across the pitch out of her reach.

"You're getting old!" You shout over your shoulder, ducking and weaving through players and staff alike. "Aren't you meant to be a professional athlete?"

You jump over a crate of drinks as Frido trips over them.

You laugh, leaving her in the dirt as another hand reaches for your own.

"Aren't you tired?" Ingrid asks you," You've just played ninety minutes."

You know Ingrid quite well considering you've never played on a team with her.

Pernille and Frido have introduced you two a lot over the years. She's nice to see, someone who is not family but just as nice as them.

"I'm never too tired to humiliate Frido," You answer, turning to look back as Pernille helps Frido up while Magda howls with laughter.

Ingrid rolls her eyes fondly at you, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face.

"Have you met Esmee before? I can't remember."

Either way, Ingrid introduces you to Esmee, who seems nice enough, if a little shy. You can imagine you and her getting on once you're both settled with each other.

"Of course, you know Mapi a bit and this is Aitana. Aitana, this is y/n. She's Magda and Pernille's daughter, Frido's niece."

"Daughter?" The look Aitana wears on her face is one you're always used to when regarding your parentage.

"Adopted," You confirm with a nod. It's always better to explain now than have to deal with the awkward questions as people try to tread around the minefield that's your family situation.

She nods once before speaking. "Do you want to swap shirts?"

"Oh! Er..." You glance behind you where your family is (thankfully) keeping their distance. Still within earshot but not enough to invite themselves into the conversation.

Both of your mothers stick their thumbs up at you.

"Yeah...okay, then."

Like you thought, you and Esmee do get on. You reckon that you wearing a Barcelona shirt (Aitana's Barcelona shirt, you think in the back of your mind) must have settled her a bit. Familiar people with the one unfamiliar one wearing a very familiar colours.

She's nice and speaks well and you almost forget about the prickling feeling of someone watching you until that someone is right behind you.

The little circle you've found yourself in opens up and Alexia Putellas slides into the now empty spot next to you.

Magda moves to approach as well but Pernille holds her back by the back of the shirt.

"Pernille-"

"Let her deal with it," Pernille says," However she wants to do it. We can't coddle her for her whole life."

Magda pouts. "We can try."

"Magda," Pernille continues," She's much more capable than you like to think."

You hope that your eyes aren't as wide in shock as you think they are. it would be embarrassing for Alexia Putellas to remember that expression as the one you wore when you first met her.

"You had a good game," She says to you and you feel your throat go dry.

You force words out anyway. "Th-Thank you."

"A great game, actually," Alexia continues," You're very talented."

"Thank you."

You feel like a broken record, incapable of saying nothing but the same thing over and over again.

"How long have you got on your Bayern contract?"

"Two-Two years."

"Two years? Not three? Or four? For someone of your talent..."

"Oh, er, well, it's meant to finish the same time as my mothers' do."

"Harder and Eriksson's kid, aren't you?"

"And Frido's niece," Ingrid puts in and Alexia nods.

"I thought so. She's never had anything but compliments for you. You used to play for Arsenal as well, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you joined Sweden for their Euro qualifiers as well. It's nice to see that young talent is being fostered so well."

You laugh a little awkwardly. "Oh, well, I'm not really anything special."

The look Alexia gives you makes it clear she thinks differently. She doesn't refute your claim though, just purses her lips in thought.

"Barcelona has always been good at noticing young talent and putting our faith in them."

"Oh?"

She smiles at you. "Just something to think about. Have you got the same managers as your mothers?"

You nod. "Yeah, Morsa...Er...Magda and I have the same person."

"Excellent." She claps a hand down onto your shoulder. "You should probably warn them about something coming their way soon after that performance today. I hope to see you on the pitch again soon."

With that, Alexia Putellas walks away, right back down the tunnels and you're left hopelessly looking back at her.

You turn back to the little group around you, a group that your family has finally joined again.

"Sorry...What just happened?"

Frido laughs, a casual arm flung over your shoulder.

"That was Alexia speak for 'Barcelona will be trying to buy you from Bayern soon'."

Magda swears. "For fuck's sake!"

[nezuscribe]

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you have everything you could have asked for in life. a beautiful home in greenwhich, just far away from london so that you don't have to mingle with city life, but close enough to be surrounded by the ton. a library with all the books you could ask for and a friend you care for dearly. all except for the man of your dreams, who just so happens to be your best friends brother. worst of all, he only sees you as such. his sisters best friend. (bridgerton!au)

warnings: 18+ mdni, gojo doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, slight angst (with comfort), smut, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (happy ending)

word count: 17.3k+ (i have no idea how)

note: yes, this is inspired by penelope and colin. yes, i know that colin isn't a viscount. their story is coming out later than expected so i took matters into my own hands. tysm @jadeisthirsting for beta reading! (if you saw this the first time no you didn't, i hope tumblr doesn't glitch out again)

jjk masterlist

You had a great life, as far as it went. 

You were born into a wealthy family, far more wealthy than they deserved to be. You had maids at your beck and call and did not need to worry about the future as long as you acted correctly. You had book upon books, as many as you could dream of, so long as you didn’t bore your mother too much with them. You had any sort of food you could dream of and you had the most caring friend in the world who loved you very much. 

Honestly, what more could a woman ask for?

“I say we move the whole ordeal to Friday, seeing how Satoru is only arriving on Wednesday. But my mother insisted that we keep in on Thursday because the rest of London just couldn’t wait to see my dashing brother…” Lily continued her furious rant as she paced back and forth the vast expanse of your family’s drawing room, shaking her head in clear frustration. 

“And you want it to be a day later…because…?” You sipped quietly on your tea, trying to keep your smile at a minimum. It was hard not to get giggly when Lily’s face got red and her eyes bugged out of her sockets. For such a pretty girl it tended to shift her features whenever she got angry or annoyed. 

“Well, he’s going to be tired!” She stopped her pacing as she stared at you with her mouth a bit open as if it were the most obvious answer, “And whenever Satoru is tired he’s so difficult to deal with. He’s going to want to talk about his travels for at least three days before he’s ready to mingle with the rest of the works!” 

You nodded heavily, showing her that you were completely on her side. 

“Has he written to you?” She asked and then quickly shook her head, despite the fact you were going to answer with a quiet yes to her question. He had written you a few letters, all of them stashed in your vanity as you read over them, each going over his travels, sometimes sending you little knick-knacks he saw. 

“Not the point. What I’m trying to say is that my mother always goes over the limit with how much she welcomes her children. And Satoru for that matter! Christ, he’s twenty-five and unmarried!” 

You wanted to sink into your seat in embarrassment. You were only so much younger and had never had even an interaction with a suitor before. 

Life was great, for the most part. 

As much as you couldn’t complain, there was a small matter at hand that was growing increasingly more alarming the more the years went on. 

For as long as you could remember, you and Lily were set on never getting married. Ever since she read that one Jane Austen book she was hellbent on independence and no men. You tagged along, seeing how that was a better excuse than admitting no man had even asked you to join him to be his partner to dance before.

Lily didn’t seem to care much for this. While she was set on her celibacy pact, she had been approached before. It doesn’t change much, but it did at least show her that somebody wants her. You were either such as a spinster or married to some ancient man your mother had to dig out from some corner of the market. 

“And Satoru…” Lily rambled on, but all it did was remind you of an even worse fact. 

You were terribly in love with her brother. 

You have known the Gojo family for ten years, five months, twelve days, and two hours, and you have been in love with Gojo Satoru for ten years, five months, twelve days, and thirty minutes. 

Their family had immigrated from Japan months before the oldest child was born, but they had only moved to Greenwich ten years, five months, and ten days ago. You met them only two days later when you accidentally wandered into their gardens, unknowing that a family had just moved in. 

The first time you met that particular Gojo, you were thirteen and facing serious issues with yourself and your own family. You wanted to move to America in hopes that the boys over there would fancy you more and your mother forbade it. Satoru laughed when he saw your horrified face popping up from their blackberry bush, definitely not expecting to see anybody there. 

“Hello there,” the stranger called out. You thought he was a grandfather with the way his hair was artic white, but he only seemed to be a bit older than you the closer he got. 

“I’m not stealing from you I swear!” You cried out as you let the blackberries tumble out of your stained hands. You cannot be taken to prison, you simply wouldn’t survive. 

“I can see that.” He crossed his arms as he tried not to laugh at the way your dress was stained a dark blue color. 

He introduced himself, and Lily, and soon, you and the girl were attached at the hip. 

It didn’t help that as kind and as charming as he was, he only saw you as his sister's closest friend. It also didn’t help that every other woman in high society seemed to be in love with the man and it certainly made it so much more horrific that he seemed to have his eyes on everybody else but you. 

He, much like his sister, was averse to the idea of marriage, but for a completely different reason. 

He seemed to despise the idea of being committed, which is most likely why he had been traveling the entirety of Europe and Asia for the past year or so. Despite his mother’s frantic worrying about setting him up with a respectable lady, he pushed them all aside and fled (in some sense) and will be making his grand appearance a couple of days from now. Everybody is chattering with excitement. You’re trying not to fill with total impending dread. 

It had already taken everything you had to pretend that he didn’t exist and that he had simply disappeared, and you knew your wretched mind would fall for him just as quickly as it did the first time around when you were set to see him next week. 

“...and, are you even listening?” Lily asked, her voice garbling back to life as you snapped your eyes back to hers, covering your mouth with your teacup as you insistently nodded, trying to keep your smile from faltering as she squinted her eyes to look you over and see what was wrong.

“I’m totally in tune with you Lils,” you insisted, nibbling on a cookie to help you with nausea which only seemed to make it worse. 

“Hm,” she grunted, not seeming to believe you but not truly caring as she continued, “And thank the heavens you’ll be there beside me, for who knows what would become of me in such an unruly crowd of men and women just waiting for my brother to make his entrance. I’d lose my sanity.” 

Yes, you thought, how lucky. If only love worked that way, of ignoring it until it faded. If only.

“I’ll be there.” You promised. 

For better or for worse, you’d be there. 

---

The ball was just as you had imagined it. 

Extravagant, elegant, large, and incredibly crowded. 

One of the perks of being an outsider in these sorts of scenes is you didn’t have to dance anymore (no matter how much it stung the first time around getting used to this fact). 

Lily was off somewhere, being forced to socialize. Your other sisters were also lost in the crowd, either dancing or being swooned by a potential match. 

You were yet to see the man of the hour, but then again, so was everybody else. He was either hiding away or being swallowed whole by the hoards of people eager to get a glimpse of him. 

Not that you wanted to see him, of course. Just curious. 

The food was, as always, a bonus. Nobody was going to judge you for scarfing anything down when you had begrudgingly sworn off marriage, and perhaps one of the good things about Lily's pact was that you didn’t care much about the public eye anymore. 

“Please, at least act like we’re not starving you.” Your mother pleaded, unfortunately, stuck to your side for the night as she eyes you and your plate. 

“I’m trying my best,” you reasoned, making sure you didn’t drop anything on your dress. 

“The Viscount is coming tonight,” she tried to think and you snorted, earning some distasteful looks from the widows around you. 

“And he’s just dying to see me, I suppose?” You rolled your eyes at the idea, to help the sting from your own words. It was better to be rationable than to be delusional. 

“Well it doesn’t hurt to-”

“Try?” You cut her off with another laugh as you chew on an eclair, “Might as well. Right after the Princess introduces herself I’ll go up.” The two of you eye the girl in the diamond-encrusted gown with an equally bright tiara on her head. Your mother gave up the argument. 

For the last couple of days, you have been at a mental war with yourself. On the one hand, it surely must mean something if he wrote you letters. On the other one, he wrote it to his entire family and he probably views you as such. No matter how much you want to pretend that the Gojo cares for you, it won’t be in the same way that measures how much you care for him. 

“I’m going to get some more of these macaroons, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself as your mother pressed her lips into a thin line, wanting to push you to dance but knowing no amount of persuading was going to change your mind when it was already set on something. 

Wading through the dense crowd was certainly a feat, but you did it nonetheless. From the dessert table, you could barely make out the pop of chartreuse that was Lily's gown, and you wondered how much longer until she’d be free to giggle and gossip with you. 

Your eyes scanned over the little sweets carefully as you mentally weighed which one would taste good and which one would be a surprise in the kindest sense of the word. The colorful ones were often pretty but they tested either too bland or too bitter and the ones with caramel side sugar tended to be too sweet. All the good macaroons with the pistachio filling were gone, which was odd because you could only count on your fingers how many people aside from you tended to favor that one. 

“Looking for something?”

A green macaron was held in front of your face, slowly forcing you to turn your head in its direction as it began to pull away from you

Him. 

“Oh!” 

Oh? If only you could hit yourself in the head that would be great. 

“Oh?” Gojo chuckled, his brows pinching together in slight confusion at your reaction as his lips threatened to pull into a teasing smile, “I haven’t seen you in a year and that's what you’ve got to say?”

You try not to let your heart flutter at his cheeky manner as you roll your eyes, your smile growing as you take him in. 

He’s gotten taller if that was even possible. His hair is still as white as it was, and it seems that no amount of sun was going to change that. He’s gotten a little bit tanner, no longer that frigid pale hue to his skin that made you worry he’d drop dead at any moment. He’s unfortunately more muscular, which just means you have to cast away the scrawny image you’ve made in your mind in hopes that he’d come back anemic. 

His eyes are just as captivating as ever, blue and inviting. His jaw is sharper and yet he has no facial hair on his face. Which you prefer on most men but you’re glad he’s never given into that trend. 

Most importantly, he still looks like that boy you fell in love with so many years ago, and no time away would ever change you at your core. 

You try to not let your neck prickle with heat as he seems to assess you the same way you're doing to him, try not to feel self-conscious as his eyes roam over your features. Sure, a person can change in a year, but you wouldn’t bet you’ve changed that much that would warrant this amount of staring.

“So…?” 

“‘Toru, hi!” You snap out of your state, watching as his face picks up and breaks into a grin as you set your plate down somewhere, seemingly now realizing that Satoru is here and in front of you, “My, you’ve grown so much!”

“Really?” He looks at his torso and his arms as if he can’t believe it. 

“Well, a bit,” you curse at your awkwardness as he cocks a brow, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of my element tonight. I apologize for my earlier reaction.” You duck your head down for a second as he waves it off, hopefully not offended. 

You’re glad this little table is tucked away in an alcove away from most of the public eye, and the only people around the two of you are older people and the people standing outside in the gardens. Either they don’t see the man or they’re being somewhat human and granting the two of you some privacy. 

“Apology accepted, but not needed,” he teases, patting your shoulder affectionately as you try not to act as if that single touch made you reconsider the idea of marriage. 

“How are you?” He asks after a beat, not affected by your out-of-character attitude as he tilts his head to the side. 

“As good I could be,” you offer him a wink that came off as an elongated blink, “Whatever Lily filled you in on has most likely happened to me too.” He chuckles, his laughter the sound of melted honey. 

Fuck, you’re never going to get over him. 

“And you? How were your trips?” You egged him on, eyes tracing him, watching as some pink dusted over his cheeks. 

“Boring. Couldn’t wait to come back.” He says, but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. Mixed with the way he couldn’t contain his bits of laughter, you laughed alongside him. 

“I’d believe it if not for your tan and newfound outlook on life, or so it seems from how Lily describes it.”

“She exaggerates everything,” he waves it off, and you wonder what that double-edged sword implies. 

“I-”

“He’s here!” You hear a loud voice cut you off as the two of you look over your shoulder to see his mother leading the awaiting princess and her train to where the two of you are standing, “He seems to be getting warmed up with this fine lady!” She says your name as heat rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

It was only seconds before you were surrounded by men and women you had never seen before, all hanging off of Satoru’s words as he scrambled to answer all of their questions. 

And so it begins, you say to yourself as you push away from them, going to find Lily as you wonder why you even try. 

You miss the way he calls out for you, quiet enough so that nobody else hears it, but loud enough that his chest tightens in confusion at the sheer desperation of it. 

---

“I despise men!”

You’re at the Gojo estate for once, and Lily has started a new tirade that has lasted for the last hour. 

“What brought this on?” You press, exchanging worried glances with Satoru and her younger sister as she groans, jamming her palms into her eyes as she vehemently shakes her head. 

“Does this,” she shoves her hand, more importantly, her ring finger without a ring, in front of your face, “Look like I’m keen on getting married to you?”

“No….?” You mutter, scared of what she would say next. 

“Does it look like an invitation to barge into my home?”

“Not exactly,” You say, earning a sympathetic look for Satoru as she glares at him. 

“Does it look like I want to get frisky in the broom cupboards?”

“Christ! Lily, your sisters here!” You shout, jumping to cover the young girl's ears. Lily waves it off and Satoru just chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes as you usher the girl out of the tea room as you slam the door shut. 

“This certainly beats the beaches in Venice,” Satoru says as you near the table again, winking at you as you laugh quietly. 

“I’m so glad I’m not getting married. You should be too,” she points her finger at you as you look up at her, “Men are nothing but evil, money hungry, sex driven-”

“Charming, majestic-” Satoru talks over her as she talks even louder. 

“Dirty animals!” She finishes with a cry. 

You and Satoru share a glance as you try to laugh. She’s not wrong, far from it. The majority of men in this place needed to be sent back to their creator, but Lily had a vein in his forehead that was protruding at an odd angle. 

“You laugh now, but you’ll be thanking me fifty years from now.” She warns as you nod, acting totally compliant with her. 

“You’re still with her on her no-marriage pact?” Satoru asks as he stands up, walking past Lily as he looks out from the window, seemingly admiring the gardens outside. He glances over at you as you sink into the satin cushions beneath you. 

“Yes,” but your answer came out shaky and unsure. 

“Of course she is,” Lily answered for you with a definite nod, “And besides, she’s the luckier one. It’s not like any man has even asked her to marry anyway.” She says jokingly, shoving a biscuit in her mouth as she plops herself down beside you, nudging your shoulder with hers as if it were the funniest thing in the world. 

You wish the sofa could swallow you whole. 

“Hey,” Satoru turns around, brows furrowed as he looks at his sister, but the door opens before he can finish his sentence. 

“Miss Gojo,” their butler, Fred, who you’ve known since you’ve known Lily announces for her as he stands at the foot of the door, “Your mother has requested your presence in her quarters.”

Lily stands up with a groan, wiping the crumbs off of her dress as she makes sure there’s nothing around the corners of her mouth. 

“I’m needed elsewhere,” she pats your arm caring for it despite having her words wanting to make you plummet yourself off of a cliff, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You give her a weak goodbye, watching as she leaves with the door shutting behind her as you sit up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave yourself. 

You stand up, careful not to make any eye contact with Satoru out of sheer embarrassment as you smooth out the wrinkles in your dress, hoping the silence would suffocate you faster than it would him. 

“Lily talks too much sometimes,” he finally says, stepping away from the window as he takes a two closer to your direction, before passing, “I’d apologize on her behalf but I’m pretty sure she’s already forgotten what she’s said.” He tries to lighten the mood and bless his soul, but you can already feel your spirits for the day sour. 

“It’s alright,” you promise, though he seems to disagree but you continue anyway, “I know her, she doesn’t mean it.” Still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, a part of you chides. 

“Are you leaving?” He asked, taking another tentative step forward. 

“I was planning on it,” you say with a little chuckle, hoping that your eyes watering up wasn’t too noticeable, “Is that alright with you?”

He looked at you with his bright eyes and just blinked, taking a while to reach his senses. 

“Y-yes! Yes, quite alright. Let me just get my coat…” He muttered, brushing past you as you quickly tried to reject his incoming offer. 

“There’s no need!” You run a bit to catch up to him and his fast pace, “My house is barely two skips away,” you lamely joke, hoping he’d give it up. You wanted to wallow in your self-pity on your walk home, not have to converse with the one man who’d inadvertently give you more to pity over. 

“Not a chance,” he argued, draping the coat in question over his arm, “What sort of person would I be if I let you walk out alone?”

Any other person, you wanted to say but stopped yourself. 

“I don’t mean to bother you…” You wrong your hands in a nervous state, eyes darting everywhere but his. 

You were trying to work on your silly crush this past week, which had unfortunately ramped up ever since he came back. In response, you worked out that the best solution to getting over it was to act like he didn’t exist and ignore him whenever possible. Clearly, it was working out completely in your favor. 

“Not a bother at all.” He insisted, linking his other arms with yours as you jumped a bit in surprise. He was forward, if anything. 

“Fred,” he calls out, getting the butler's attention as you try to hide yourself away, “Tell my mother I’ll be back in a bit.” The man just nods, opening up the front doors as Satoru leads the two of you out. 

The sun was out and working away, which didn’t help with the heat already prickling away through your skin. The Gojo estate was large, but hidden away, and for that you were glad. You could only imagine the gossip that would arise if certain ladies in society were to see you (helplessly) draped over the bachelor's arm. 

“Are you enjoying being back here?” You asked, trying to exert your confidence when you were feeling anything but. 

It’s not like you were unsure of yourself at most times, it’s just that when you’re around the one man you’ve been in love with since childhood and he feels nothing of the sort, you can’t help but be more conscious over everything. 

Satoru looked at you, shrugging as he pursed his lips, thinking of an answer. 

“I missed it,” he says, “But I mainly came back for my family and my friends and well…” He trailed off, chewing on his lip as he waved off his thoughts as if it didn’t matter, “Nonetheless, now that I’ve been around them, I remember why I wanted to leave.” 

And sometimes, despite him not wanting to, made you feel as if you were the most important person he’s had the pleasure of talking to, when in reality that’s just in his nature. 

“Is Lily pestering you too much?” You tease, a little smile on your face that wrinkles the edges of your eyes. He simply stared at you again, his eyes bright. 

“That,” he playfully tugged on your arm, “And the fact that my mother has bombarded me with the idea of marriage. And Luke is having troubles with his fiancé  and Annie doesn’t want to learn to read…it’s all just very chaotic.” He finished with a tired laugh, as if that’s all he could muster up. 

“Seems like a normal day in your house, if I’m being honest.” You lament, kicking a pebble with the point of your shoe. 

“I guess so,” he heaves a sigh that comes out dramatically, “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve put up with it all these years.”

You scoff, digging your elbow into his side a bit to show that you were offended by his statement. 

“Your family is perhaps the closest thing I have to a second family!”

“And who says family can’t get on your last nerve?” He argued, and that shut you up. He was, indubitably, correct. 

“Yes, well,” you stumble to find some reasoning and he laughs seeing you falter, knowing that he got you cornered, “‘Toru, you are simply a horrible influence to be around.” Is all you can come up with, and despite the severity of your words it only seems to spur him on even more. 

“And yet you can’t seem to get enough of me, can you?” 

You almost stopped in your tracks, your heart seizing in your chest as you try not to fumble up your well-made facade of indifference. 

All you could remember upon his statement were the words he spoke so long ago, not knowing you’d heard them. 

“Charles, you don’t get it, I don’t want a wife!” Satoru exclaimed as he snapped at his friend. It was a gala held at the queen's palace and you had strayed too far away from Lily and found yourself hiding behind a wall as you eavesdropped on the conversation. 

“Not even the Princess?” Another man pushed as you heard Satoru let out a heavy sigh. You peeled around to see him pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t want to be tied down. You saw what happened to my parents.” He argued. A part of you sympathized with him. 

“Well,” you could make out this voice as his younger brother, two years older than you he went to thinking, “What about that friend of Lily’s? She seems nice enough.”

The hair on your arm pricked upwards. Surely they couldn’t be talking about you. 

“Who?” Satoru asks and his brother says your name in a hushed whisper, as if you held more weight in your title than the Princess did. 

“Her? No, absolutely not,” he said with such disgust that his friends thought he was joking, “You’re out of your mind if you’d think I’d want to court her.”

Your heart, full of love and hope and dreams cracked, crumbled in your chest. And you left, running away because that’s all you knew how to do and sobbed your eyes out to Lily, stating that you heard somebody talking bad about you, refusing to admit that it was her own brother that was causing you to break in front of her. 

A part of you felt pathetic for still caring for him after that night, but there’s not much fight in you when it comes to the people you loved. You pulled away, sure, and stopped your lame excuses of flirting, but you never stopped. He never found out that you heard, so he continued as your friend and you continued as the shameless woman. 

“Right,” you swallow thickly, glad that your estate is now growing closer and closer, knowing that you feel sick and can’t handle it anymore, “Thank you so much for your help, but I’m sure I can make the treacherous journey on my own now.” 

You wring your hand away from his arm, you smile wobbling as you tip your head in his direction, watching him try to make sense of your quick change in nature. 

“Let me take you up to your door,” he started but you raised your hand to silence him, shaking your head. 

“That would be too much to ask for. I will leave you here…um, Satoru,” you say politely, not noting the way his jaw clenched at your sudden formality when addressing him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

And you left quickly before he could say anything else. You must stay focused on the reality of your situation;

Your best friend's brother just simply wasn’t in love with you. 

---

“Miss,” 

You perked up from your chair in your quaint little library, setting your book down as you watched one of the maids, Ella, politely calls from the door. 

“There’s a gentleman outside calling for you.”

Your brows furrowed as you found a marker so that you don’t lose your place and purse your lips together in questioning. 

“Do you know who…?” Your head cocked to the side as you stood up, walking near her as you wondered if it were that delivery boy who said he’d come with the new copies of the Brontë books you’d been eyeing for the past month. 

“It’s the Viscount Gojo, miss.” She said simply. 

Your face dropped, and you watched as confusion spread across hers. 

“Him? Here? Did he say what was wrong?” You began to rustle around, trying to find something to throw on top of your slip. 

Did something happen to Lily? Did she run away? Was their mother in trouble? You could recall her telling you that her head was aching, could something serious have happened because of that? Christ, you should have told somebody about it rather than comfort her and make her tea. Was he leaving again? Perhaps-

“He said he wanted to see you miss, that’s all he told me.” She seemed apprehensive, judging your face to see if you were maybe feeling ill due to your reaction. 

“Um, alright, just,” you hurried around, trying your fastest to get to your room, “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes! Don’t tell him I’m preparing myself, just say that I was discussing matters with somebody!” You call out as you sprint across the halls, not hearing any confirmation as you lock yourself in your room, ransacking your closet to find something not too flashy but not too boring. 

It took a good four minutes just to find a suitable dress and another five to make your face and hair look presentable enough as you scampered down the stairs only to find said Viscount waiting in the foyer. 

His face turned to yours as he heard your heels clicking on the marble, growing into a bright smile as he dipped his head down to greet you. 

“Hello,” he said your name with that smooth voice of his as he took his jacket off and kept it on his arm, “I’m sorry for turning up on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” you try to catch your breath for the first time in the last ten minutes as your chest heaves slightly up and down, “No problem at all. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He takes a second to respond, eyes scanning your features, your clothing, your chest as it tries to catch a solid breath, and you feel yourself look down to make sure there aren't any noticeable wrinkles in the fabric. 

“I, I just wanted to drop in. See how you were doing.”

You tried not to look even more startled, but your brows creased once again as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek. 

“I’m quite alright…thank you…?” You couldn’t look that out of the ordinary, right?

“Good, that’s good,” he watched as you finished your descent down the stairs, slowly coming towards him as you waited for him to finish, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation with…?” Ella did give him a name you wanted to guess. 

“Lord Cornwallis.” You finished for him, not knowing why that was the first name that came to your mind. It was true that he had been here yesterday, but you didn’t talk much to him in his brief visit. 

“Lord Cornwallis?” Satoru repeated back in shock, his brows shooting upwards as he did nothing to hide his outburst. His face quickly turned into one of disgust, which accurately represented the emotions you felt yesterday when you eavesdropped on the conversation he had with your mother behind closed doors. 

“Yes, you just missed him. He went out through the back door,” why were you making this web of lies even bigger? You have no self-control, do you?

“What was Cornwallis doing here?” 

You but your tongue, having to come up with a lie or tell the truth as to why he had visited yesterday. Either way, both options turned out with horrible results. 

“He asked for my hand.” The truth it was, then. 

His brows seemed to disappear into his hairline as his jaw slacked, mouth wide open. Damn your mind, you should have just lied. 

Lily was wrong in one thing, perhaps. You have gotten a few marriage offers in the last three years, but by all men who were older than your grandfather. You hadn’t even told Lily about them and now you were telling her brother. 

“I…” Satoru couldn’t even find the right words to say. You wanted to bury yourself in a hole. 

“…Cornwallis? Isn’t he-”

“Pushing ninety-nine? Yes.” Nobody was sure of his age, and ninety-nine was perhaps even being too generous. Everybody knew that Cornwallis was simply ancient. 

“Did I save you from the conversation at least? I must say, if there was any man I would wish ill upon, it’s certainly him. He’s a lying old cheat.” He tried to joke again but you swallowed thickly. Perhaps if he came at the same time yesterday he might have. But he didn’t and you had to sit through an hour of him pleading with your mother as the two of you just stared in abject horror and surprise. 

“Yes well, thank you…for doing that.” You lied, cleaning your teeth together as you tried to smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings as you came up closer to him, desperately hoping to change the topic of the conversation. 

“Is everything alright with Lily?” You asked his eyes that were focused on the floor jumping to yours as your lips parted, worry still clear on your face. 

“Yes, of course, I just wanted to ask a favor of you. But, judging from your encounter with men today I would understand if this is pushing it,” he cut right to the crux of the matter. He seemed nervous, which was an odd emotion to see on a man otherwise very confident and sure in himself. It unsettled you. 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to find his words and continue. You could make out the slight blush on his face, the pink hue that spread across his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He was, by all means, the cutest person you’ve ever seen. 

“My mother's holding another ball, two weeks from now, you see,” his lip caught between his teeth, “And she’s been bugging me about having a date for the night. She wants to appease the rest of the gentry, I suppose. Would you, by any chance, like to be that?” 

You stopped computing his words. 

“...It’s honestly just to get her off my back. And you wouldn’t have to stay with me the entire evening, you could do whatever you’d like after we get some of the necessities over with. Lily was the first who suggested the idea, she said you wouldn’t be doing much other than gossip with her. Of course, if you don’t want to I certainly won’t force the idea, but it’s merely a suggestion.” His blue eyes, ever so convincing and round and caring bore into yours, and despite your better judgment you find yourself nodding. 

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you say a bit breathlessly, completely forgetting about Cornwallis and the way you were debating it and the fact that this means nothing at all, and would most likely cause you more harm than good. 

His nervousness washed away into a big smile, and you cursed yourself at the little flicker of hope you felt deep in your soul as he scrambled to find the right words to say to thank you. The flood of gratitude and appreciation stabbed deeply into your heart as he kept repeating friend, but you were too hopeful for love. 

Your mother always said that loving would always be your greatest weakness. 

---

You should have said no. 

The amount of eyes that were focused on you was enough to make you nauseous, and you couldn’t get sick for you hadn’t had anything to eat today with how hurried everything was. 

Your arm was draped around Satoru’s, and he held tightly onto your hand. He was the image of luxury and charisma right now, and if you were in the crowd looking as he made his way through the crowd you almost would have wanted to bow. 

Time came by a lot faster when you were totally freaking out over it, and before you knew it, you were put in a dress you hadn’t even picked and corseted to the heavens. Your hair was done with extra detail, and they even went as far as putting some Swarovski’s into it so that when the candlelight hit it, you’d sparkle twice as much. 

Satoru, ever the gentleman, had picked you up from your estate as he walked you to their home amidst all the chaos of getting ready for another ball. In all honesty, you have no idea how their mother manages to keep her sanity through all of this.

You were still a bit giddy from your earlier interaction with Satoru, although it didn’t do much to calm your nerves now. 

“I’m sorry for taking so long!” You had said as you rushed down your stairs, careful not to trip over your train as you put your earrings in. Ella said that he was waiting for you downstairs, you just underestimated how early he’d be. 

“Don’t apologize…” He had turned around from admiring a painting, his eyes widening a bit when he saw you. He quickly shut his mouth, but you had already gauged his reaction. You tried not to let it get the best of you, but you could have sworn he blushed more often than usual when you interlinked your arm with his.

“You’re cutting off my blood circulation.” He whispers in your ear as you try to smile, your eyes nervous as they dart around the room. How could it be even bigger than that last ball? Did they suddenly meet thirty new people? 

“Maybe you could cut mine off.” You snap back through your teeth, your hand gripping his wrist as tightly as you could. 

“How are we supposed to dance if one of us is dead?” He grumbles back, putting on a little grin as he makes eye contact with his mother, and then goes back to whispering, “It’s just one song and you’re done. You’ve done this before.”

You wanted to shove him to the ground. 

“No, I haven’t!” You say loud enough that he hears but try to mask it so that nobody else does, “I told you yesterday this is my first time dancing with somebody!” As embarrassing as it was to admit, right now you couldn’t be bothered to care as he led you to the middle of the room, standing in first position as you two waited for the orchestra to begin. 

“Are you saying I’m your first?” He teased, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he watched you grow mortified, rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting way as his means to apologize. 

You wanted to go ahead and argue but the cello and violins started and you were whisked away by his calculated movements, and the only thing you could do was follow in his lead. 

The two of you practiced a bit in the days leading up to this, but it was a lot different when your only crowd was Lily and her constant whining about how boring it was. 

Now, with everybody staring at you and him, it was far more daunting. 

“Don’t look at the ground, look at me,” he whispered in your ear, smiling when your eyes traveled to him. He tried not to crack when he saw the pure loathing and hatred in them, but at least you were looking up and not at his shoes. 

“‘Toru I’m never doing a favor for you again, you owe me.” You groan, letting him twirl you around in a circle as some of the ladies give a polite clap. 

“Name your price.” He egged you on, bringing you back flush against his chest as his hand found purchase on your waist. 

“Not money,” you grumble, eyes twitching as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, you’ve always wanted to dance with him, sure, but not under these circumstances. 

“Books?” You consider it but shake your head. You deserve something bigger for what you’re putting yourself through. Shocking enough, after being a wallflower for so many years, you weren’t handling being in the spotlight too well. 

“I’ll think about it. But it has to be big.” You warn and he lifts up his pinky on your waist to show you his unbridled loyalty to keeping true to your words.

“Where are you going after this is done?” He spins the two of you around, and you watch as more couples rush around the two of you. It’s less stressful when others are dancing, but you still feel tense. 

“I’m probably going to stay with Lily outside.” He seems to deflate a little, though he still stands tall, his suit never crinkling through his movements. 

“No more dancing?” He teased but you vehemently disagree with the idea. 

“Never again.” It’s not as though you hate it, in fact, a younger you would have been jumping with glee to be able to dance with Satoru. But after years of growing accustomed to watching rather than participating, you can’t grow out of that habit. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the Princess herself as she looked at you with pleading eyes. 

“Would you mind if…?” She motioned to Satoru and then to you. You barely noticed the number coming to an end, and the rupture of applause was the last thing you heard before you scrambled away from him. 

You didn’t even notice how he had held onto your hand tighter, not wanting to let you go.

“O-of course, your majesty.” You winced at your select choice of words and how you said her title almost as if you questioned it. 

“Thank you.” She mumbled and for somebody of such high regard, you wouldn’t think of her to need to plead with somebody, especially you, to be able to have a dance with Satoru. 

Your job for the night was done, successfully might be too loose of a term, but finished nonetheless. You chose not to look back at Satoru, knowing that the wide grin he’d save for the girls he was interested in would only twist that knife deeper into your heart. 

You were a sadist in the most pathetic way possible.

You waved goodbye to Satoru as another number started again, and tried your best to get away from all the twirling bodies as you headed out to find Lily. 

It didn’t take long until you found her trying to weasel out some information from her brother, tapping him repeatedly on the shoulder as he tried to fight her off. 

“…what did you hear, what do you know?” She pressed as he groaned, obviously trying to have a private conversation with the lady next to him. 

“Nothing Lily!” He locked eyes with you as he almost begged silently for you to take her. 

“Lily, I’m here. We can go now.” You looped elbows with her as you dragged her away, giving her brother a quick smile that said you accepted his gratefulness. 

As you walked through the stone path in the garden, she muttered dejectedly about how she was just about to get some good information out of him. 

“How was dancing with Satoru?” She finally asked after a while. The two of you weren’t alone, but far less crowded than it would if you had been inside. 

“Stressful, but the song was short so I wasn’t needed for too long.” You tell her honestly. If there’s one thing you can’t do with Lily it’s lie, for she’ll sniff out of you the moment you come up with it. 

“You look flustered.” She noted, looking over your face and the sweat that dotted over your cheekbones. 

“You dance in a sweltering room like that with the entire ton looking at you and try not to get flustered.” You reasoned and she seemed to buy it. It wasn’t a total lie, but a stretch of the truth. 

“You know,” Lily had terrible balance and often collided with you as she walked, “I was talking to my mother and despite her insistent warnings, I think we should make it official.”

“Make what official?” The lights from the candles above you illuminated her face and she had that look of mischief that either excited or frightened you. 

“That we plan to be unwed.” She grinned cheek to cheek and all you could feel was that same wave of nausea that had been prickling at you since the start of the night. This was the last thing you needed to hear about right now. 

“They’re going to think we’re either lunatics or lovers.” You say with a sullen and heavy sigh, looking up at the sky in some sort of desperate manner as you wait for some sort of angel to save you from this conversation. 

“And what’s the issue with that? Let them think. You have always said you’ve wanted this, so let’s let the world know.” 

Something you wish Lily was was to be more aware. As loving, thoughtful and caring as she was, she never seemed to pick up on the little things. For one, you doubted she noticed just how quiet you got whenever she brought up this conversation. You’d give her the benefit of the doubt and say that you rarely talked much when it came to marriage, but that was just so that you could save yourself from the ongoing embarrassment of never having experienced love or some sort of feeling that somebody would feel towards you to genuinely want to be your husband. 

Not only that, but far from Lily's point of help, is the fact that ever since Satoru has been back, your childish feelings have come flooding right in with him. No matter how many tea sessions you have with Lily and have him sitting in the background, either reading the morning's paper or jotting things down in his journal, it always spins to him sitting right beside you as you talk about anything under the sun. 

And while you know your hopes of marrying him are just too far-fetched, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Something Lily just hasn’t ever been able to pick up on when around you. Which is shocking, seeing how the only novels you’ve read for the majority of your life was centered around such a topic. 

“Listen, Lily, I’ve been thinking,” you pause for a second in your place, staring at the pebbles arranged in the formation of a star as you swallow your bile, “That maybe…” 

You were nervously wringing your hands together, a sign that Lily knew all too well. She could read you like any of her books, and she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with a shaky hand as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“No,” she dug the finger into your chest, “You’re thinking of breaking up the pact?” It comes out breathless. Her soft curls of white that had been done up beautifully were slowly falling down as she shook her head in pure shock, not giving you a chance to talk. 

“I mean this is just brilliant. Brilliant! What am I supposed to do now, go out into the world alone as a spinster?” 

You stuttered, your fingers interlaced with one another as you tried to calm her down from causing a scene. Trying to shush her came to no avail as you wring your hands away from her, acting as if your touch was burning. 

If the Gojo’s were anything, it’s overly dramatic in places where dramatics were certainly not needed. 

“Please be rational,” she urged you as she clutched onto your wrists, suddenly pleading to you with her wide eyes, “The season is almost over and you haven’t had any offers. Sooner than later we’re going to be thirty, then forty, then fifty, and husbandless. We should say it now so that it doesn’t come off as a pathetic cry to hold onto what little decency we have in the future!” 

Christ, you hated that she was being somewhat logical. But her rationality stung, the way melted wax does when it burns the skin. She didn’t know just how much she was hurting you, and you doubted she ever would. 

“Look, I know I’m probably not going to be offered a chance at marriage, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least try.” You try to reason with her as she sniffs, her eyes squinted as she looks at you in anger. 

“This was our pact and you’re going against it! What’s next?”

You were going to argue that this pact was only made on the basis of her having too much champagne to drink and you being sullen over her brother, but you were cut off from getting the chance to do so. 

“What’s your issue?” 

You turned around at the familiar voice as you saw Satoru nearing you, Lily continuing her rant as she seemed to completely miss that her brother was coming towards the two of you. 

“What?” You felt overwhelmed with having two Gojo’s corner you, both rather angry from the looks of it. 

“I know that this isn’t your scene but you said you’d be my date. You don’t have to dance with me, but at least be there.” He looks like he’s seething, and you’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s jarring, to say the least. 

You feel like your head is about to explode. 

“I just-”

“....and my mother was only more confident in the idea if you were doing it!” Lily exclaimed, causing you to look back at her as she urged you to think about it. 

“...my mother has given me at least twenty women to mull over in the last twenty minutes. It would have been none if you just acted as my date for the night!” Satoru’s voice rose, and you felt like your heart was going to actually stop. Your head was spinning, your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hear anything besides a loud ringing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry but-” The two of them talked over you, so stuck in their own worlds that they didn’t notice the tears pricking at your eyes or the way you seemed to be short of breath. It would probably be one of their greatest flaws, never noticing something until it was far too late. 

“Stop!” You cried out, earning some looks from the people around you as you rubbed at your forehead, already feeling it ache under your touch, “Please! Listen, just for a bloody second!” 

You took a deep breath and began. 

“I’m a fucking romantic Lily, and nothing’s ever going to change that! I always have been! And I want to get married, I just agreed to your pact because I know I’m probably never going to get that chance! And god, how can your only takeaway from reading Persuasion be to abstain from marriage?” Your nose crinkles in anger as you turn around to point your finger at her brother's chest, watching as he takes your reaction in obvious surprise. 

“You!” You cry out and he almost backs away, “I was trying to give you some courtesy by leaving! God forbid you gave anybody the idea that you were courting me!” You quickly wipe at your eyes but it does fuck all of hiding how you truly felt as your lips wobbled.  

“Why would…?” He's breathless, no longer angry, just utterly confused and a wee bit frightened. 

“We both know you’re too good for that. How’d you phrase it, you’d be out of your mind if you did such a thing?” You throw his own words back at him, and you watch in some sort of mixture of triumph and heartbreak as realization washes over his features. 

He finally remembers. 

“I…” he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair as it fell out of his face, rubbing at his jaw as you looked at you from beneath his lashes, “I didn’t…” but he can’t finish his sentences and instead stops, sharing an unreadable look with his sister as they then look at you. 

“I’m going home.” You say after a beat of silence, breathing deeply through your nose as you look away from the two of them. 

“Let me-” Satoru started but you raised a hand to stop him. 

“I think I’d be better off alone.” You snap, nostrils flaring as you shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to stop the already impending migraine that is about to come. 

For once in your life, you didn’t care about the eyes boring into your back or the way that whispers flew around you and twisted around your throat like a vine. You were glad that nobody else other than the servants was home as you ran up into your room, locking everybody else out as you sobbed into your pillows. 

---

The days following your (well-deserved) outburst were more than rough. 

To your knowledge, Lily has visited a total of ten times in the past five days, sometimes twice in the same one, while her brother has visited a grand total of zero. You didn’t expect much from him, but this really cemented your quickly growing disdain. 

Your mother informed you constantly that she was trying to put out the fires from that night but you couldn’t bring it to feel too bad, after all, you were glad that you didn’t say anything more drastic. 

“This is just so unlike you!” She cried, shaking in disappointment as you munched on some sweets you nicked from the kitchen. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “I’m so proud of myself.”

She just throws her hands in the air as a sign of utterly giving up and storms out of the room, most likely to meet with somebody else to “clean up the mess.”

She was right for some part, you can’t remember the last time you actually told somebody how you were feeling. It’s not healthy on your end, but growing up with three older sisters who always got it their way meant that you had some lack of backbone. 

Lily and Satoru, as much as you cared about them, didn’t live like that. Their mother loved them all equally and she made sure that all of their voices were heard. She was always making sure that their priorities were met and she never made them feel inferior. 

Which somehow, didn’t pass on to you. 

Loving the way you do got tiring when you got nothing back, and giving everybody your all when nobody seemed to notice it felt as though you were alone in a world full of people who cared for each other. You’ve read the books and heard the stories, but you eventually realized that it simply just wasn’t in your cards to be dealt the same thing. 

They cared, you know they did. But sometimes, it felt like they expected your care in order for them to show it to you. 

“Miss?” you heard a faint voice and a knock at your door. You sat up from your slump as Ella slowly came inside, shutting the door soundly behind her. 

“Did my mother ask you to make sure I haven’t flung myself off the balcony?” You dust away any crumbs from your pull over as you stare out the window. 

“I’m making sure you didn’t.” 

Your head snapped over at the familiar voice only to see Lily standing at the foot of your bed, looking out of place with her bright purple dress. She looked like she was teetering back and forth between staying out and sprinting away, and you admired her courage after how many times you’ve turned down her offer. 

You glared at Ella but she was no longer there, leaving you and Lily alone. 

“You’re just in time then.” You say blandly, standing up from your bed as you make the covers and are careful not to come too close to her. She seemed to notice. 

“We can’t go about this forever,” she stated, rounding the corner of your bed as she took three steps forward while you took one back, not wanting to be cornered again the way you were that night, “This silent treatment is killing me.”

“Then die,” you don’t mean it and she knows it, but her face wobbles for a second and you watch in horror as tears spring to Lily's eyes. 

The last time Lily cried the two of you were fifteen and her brothers had effectively ruined the singular dress she had actually been looking forward to wearing by staining it with ink. You spent at least an hour calling her down and trying to rationalize with her until you finally gave up and offered to cut holes in all of their suits. 

You’re not sure you could do that now. 

“I’m sorry!” She sprung herself forward at you with full throttle as she hugged you tightly, “You’re right! There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic!” You don’t know what to do as you stand there in shock so you awkwardly pat her back, her long white hair never loose so you’ve never really seen it to its full extent. 

“My brother and I have been at war with each other trying to put the blame on somebody else but I’m sorry! You of all people deserve to find love,” she looks up and her eyes just look like oceans and it’s unfair how pretty she looks when she cries because you just look like a mess, “Please, please forgive me.”

You look as she refuses to pull away from you, clutching desperately onto the thin fabric of your nightgown that your mother reprimanded you for not getting out of, and slowly feel your hands circle around her back as you pull her into a hug. 

“Honestly,” you shake your head as she looks up at you, cheeks rosy with streaks of tears and her lip wobbles violently, “I’m probably going to be on that pact ten years from now. But I just-”

“Want to try!” She finished your sentence for you, something the two of you always prided in being able to do, “and that’s respectable too!”

You try not to smile but the corners of your lips tug upwards as you nod, Lily waiting with bated breath as she scanned your reaction. 

“Don’t ever treat me like that again, you hear me?” 

She vehemently nods, pulling away as she wipes at her eyes, holding out her oinks finger as she waits for you to latch on. Sure, it was a childish way of making a promise, but Lily was never the serious sort of person. If anything, this is the most you’ve ever seen her apologize about something. 

“I promise with the depths of my soul. If I do, brand me with an iron.” Your eyes widen as you go to disagree but she won’t take it. 

“I swear.” She repeats gravely. 

You look at her pinky for another second before you bring yours up, not believing that this is still how the two of you go about making amends. 

“Alright then,” you heave a sigh, “I forgive you.”

Her face breaks into a wide and toothy smile as she pulls you in for a tighter hug, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as she pulls back away. 

“You’ll never regret this, I swear,” she looked radiant, but quickly stopped as she looked down at the ground, trying to gather her thoughts on how to break the news to you, “Now, be prepared for another one.” 

You blink slowly, brows furrowed in confusion as you lean on your bedpost, arms crossing as your lips purse. 

“What?” 

She almost looks ashamed again, looking at the clock on your wall. 

“My mother’s invited you over for dinner. Get ready to see the other Gojo.”

---

Your mother, as difficult as she was to deal with at most times, somehow understood the concept of showing off through a good wardrobe. 

You wouldn’t put any bets on the fact that if your outfits were significantly better you might have had at least one man approach you in all these years, but it certainly could have been a possibility. 

The cut was lower than all your normal dress, and with the help of your corset, pushed the sisters up a considerable amount. 

The color was the most flattering you’ve ever seen, and through the utilization of crystals and diamonds encrusted in the fabric itself, it shined perfectly when the light hit it. 

For the first time, you were glad your mother picked out your outfit. 

Unfortunately, the outfit gave you only so much confidence. When you walked into the Gojo estate, thankfully with Lily on your side, all the memories from that night came flooding back and your stomach flipped upside down. 

You were glad that Lily was seated next to you at the dinner table as well, but it didn’t help that Satoru was seated in front of you, glaring daggers into your face as you tried to avoid looking at him. 

“Now, you didn’t tell me about your plans for the next year, with the season already coming to an end.” Their mother, bless her heart, asked as she loaded some peas into her fork, looking at you with her kind eyes as you struggled to think of a good enough answer. 

“I’m planning on taking a marriage offer up, actually,” you say, trying not to look at Lily for you knew she was already giggling.

In the past five hours, you filled her in on everything, and she decided the best way to get Satoru to say something was if you went with the idea. 

“Oh?” You watched as she perked up in interest, as did the rest of the Gojo family. An offer? 

“Yes,” you nodded, “Lord Cornwallis, actually, if you’ve heard of him?” 

Lily was gleaming as she saw her brother clench his jaw as he stared at the side of your face that was still looking at their mother. 

“L-lord Cornwallis?” You felt bad for lying to her, but you could just come back later and say you’ve changed your mind, “He must be at least-”

“Ninety-nine?” You answered for her as her cheek warmed, “Some say he’s just in his prime, yes.” 

She drank some of her wine. 

“Isn’t that desperate?” Satoru finally said and you heard a loud clatter from the end of the table as their mother angrily sat her cup down, glaring at her son. 

“Satoru!” She exclaimed, the rest of the girls and boys watching in tense silence as they waited for your reply. 

“It’s alright,” you shrugged, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, “And yes, it could come off as desperate. However, I would rather go to a man who finds no problem in courting me rather than somebody who’d tell the whole world just how much it would disgust him to be seen with me.”

You could swear you heard a tooth crack. 

“I’m sorry, am I missing something-” One of the brothers piped up but Satoru acted as if he hadn’t heard him. 

“Well if that man were drunk out of his wits-”

“Then he let his sober thoughts reign free.” You finish for him, nostrils flaring as Satoru twisted the ring on his forefinger back and forth. 

“Again, Miss Gojo, I’m simply thinking over his offer.” You finish, seeing how she could barely take her eyes off of her son as she blinked towards you, giving a shaky smile as she nodded. 

“Of course, there’s no…no problem in that.” She swallowed uncomfortably, as did everybody else. You peeked over at Lily to find her just as you suspected, beaming with silent joy. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I think my dress has come a bit undone. I’m going to call for somebody to fix it.” You say, excusing yourself as you try to go ahead with the plan you had set in the first place. 

“Make him mad, really mad. Say something about Cornwallis, he despises him,” Lily muttered, sitting cross-legged on your bed as she urged you to listen to her directions, “Then excuse yourself. Say you’ve got to use the privy or something, doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, listening intently as she laid it on thick for what she had been picking up on for the past couple of days. 

“Go upstairs and find his room, you know where it is. Be quick with it too, but there’s this box on his desk that’s full of letters. I swear on my Austen collection that there is a letter with your name on it.”

You felt your heart tumble. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, glancing at the clock to make sure you wouldn’t be late to dinner. 

“Positive. And I’d get it if I could, but he’s so secretive with his room that this is probably the one time it’s going to be unlocked. He’d never suspect anybody going snooping at this hour.”

You grinned, knowing that if you finally got that little something to use against him, he’d have no choice but to grovel at your feet for the rest of his life. 

You quickly scampered up the stairs, telling one of their mates that you’d be able to fix your dress on your own and that you’d be stashed away in Lily's room for the time being, and mentally times yourself as you quickly paced through the halls, looking for the familiar dark oak that would be Satoru’s room. 

Just when you were about to get lost in their maze of a house, you stopped triumphantly behind the last door at the end of the hall, staring deeply at it as you weighed your options. 

You quickly caved, slowly reaching out to the doorknob to see if it was locked. 

It swung open, and you let out a sigh of relief and looked around a final time to make sure that nobody had followed you before you fully let yourself inside. 

It was dark, and you left the door slightly open so that the light from the halls could sleep in a bit, and you went to work on locating the box on his desk that Lily had described to you. 

You squint your eyes, wincing as you bumped into furniture as you made your way to the corner of the large room, blindly reaching and grabbing for anything on the mahogany desk that would resemble a box. 

You let out a sound of triumph as you found a square-shaped glass-feeling thing filled to the brim with papers, holding it upwards to the sliver of light as you quickly ran through the letters with your fingers and you tried to find one with your name on it. 

They seemed like they were all unsent, with many of them labeled to his mother or siblings, and a few to his friends, but you didn’t find any of them labeled to you, and you quickly felt your heart and hopes sink. This was taking far too long.

Just as you were about to give up, you passed a smaller shaped letter with cursive that looked familiar, in the sense that you had seen it addressed before, and pulled it out only to see your name staring back at you. 

A part of you almost wanted to sink into the chair behind the desk, your heart beating rapidly in the small vastness of your ribcage as you held it back up to the light, seeing a note tucked neatly away through the transparency of the envelope. 

Your nimble fingers went to rip the seal of wax off, but stopped as the door swung open. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru stood at the doorway, blocking the rest of the light as his shadow cast over you. 

You dropped the letter, quickly hiding it behind your back as he stepped in, getting closer to you as you abruptly stood up, trying to come up with a feasible lie as you rounded away from his desk, trying to get away from him and his massive build. 

“Oh?” You looked around as if suddenly realizing this wasn’t the place you were supposed to be, “Is this not Lily’s room? Silly me, I couldn’t make it out in the dark. I’ll be leaving now if you’ll excuse me…” You turned around, brushing past him but stopping when you felt his long fingers circle your wrist, turning you around as his eyes squinted. 

“Bullshit,” you flinched, never having heard him curse before as his hands felt around yours, finding the letter you were doing a terrible job of hiding, “You know this house better than your own. Why the hell are you in my room?” 

You didn’t say anything as he brought your hand out from behind your back, opening up your closed fist with much ease to reveal the crumpled-up envelope. Your chest heaved up and down, waiting with bated breath as he stared silently at the letter. You balled your fists back up again, stepping away from him as he followed you quickly in your footsteps. 

“Give that to me y/n,” his voice was low and commanding, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before, and if you weren't in your rebellious mood (and somewhat in your independent, not totally in-love-with-him mood) you would have caved, but you shook your head, looking behind you as to make sure you didn’t back into his bed frame. 

“It’s got my name on it.” You argued, knowing it was a terrible excuse, and you watched him chuckle darkly, knowing that you had no good reason for being in his room and sifting through his letters. 

“And yet it was in my room, in my letterbox, on my desk.” He snapped, eyes a deep blue and different from the usual lightness they carried. He wasn’t joking and he wasn’t lying, he needed that letter back. 

Which just made you want it even more. 

You didn’t know what to do, so the only logical thing in your sporadic mind was to shove it down your dress, hiding it in your chest as Satoru watched your movements like a hawk, not saying anything as you defiantly showed him your now empty hands. 

“Get it now Satoru,” you challenged him, not realizing you had backed up into the wall until your head lightly bounced off from it, wincing at the sting as you looked back behind you. 

He didn’t say anything, and it seemed like his mind was running as quickly as it could as he tried to deal with whatever it was you were doing. Instead, he just three more languid steps forward, nearly face to face with you as he stared down at you, eyes darting from yours to your lips and chest. 

Under any other circumstances, you would have felt like shedding your clothes off from how heated you felt under his gaze. Here, your only resort was to keep them on, to see what was so important about that letter. 

“I came to find you to apologize,” his voice is low and calm, his cool breath hitting your cheek as you struggle to keep your composure, “To be civil. To tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said that night.” 

Despite your mixed emotions, you felt your brows furrow at his select choice of words. 

“Are you here to tell me now that you actually meant every word?” You couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth, knowing that the answer would probably send you into a state you could never get out of as the person you’ve loved for the majority of your life confirms your biggest fears.

But shockingly, he just shakes his head, his lips pink and plush and you’ve never found yourself focusing on them more than you are now. 

If only you knew that he felt the same as he looked at you. 

“No,” he stepped closer, if possible, but still had room to shove him away. But you didn’t, not now, you couldn’t, didn’t want to as his nose nudged yours a bit, your lashes fluttering against your cheek as your lips parted, waiting for him to do something, 

“I’ll show you that I didn’t mean them.”

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs contracting as his face fell towards yours, your lips meeting ever so slowly as they finally landed on yours, soft and somehow delicate as they pushed against yours, finalizing the kiss as he began to move them. 

You’ve never kissed anybody before, often dreaming about it as you lay in bed hopelessly in love, but never thought you’d be here from the man you’ve imagined on the other side doing it with him. 

He moved slowly as if he knew that this was your first time, and you didn’t know how to handle your emotions as he angled his chin to get closer to you, his lips capturing you in such a heated and feverish pace that you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight as you thought back on it. 

His hands slowly came up to your waist, tugging you flush against his body as your hands somehow found their way behind his neck, finger curling into his long strands of arctic white as he groaned against you when you tugged a bit, the sound coming from deep within his chest. 

You were impatient, always have been, and it probably took him a little bit by surprise as you quickened the pace, hungry after so many years of starving for this as you pushed against him for more fervor, feeling him smile slightly against your lips as he met you in the middle, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as you whined slightly as the feeling. 

He nipped at your lips, his tongue poking out from in between yours, and you absentmindedly opened your mouth a little bit to make room for him, heart and mind working in tandem as he brought up a hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t hit the wall as he pushed against you. 

It was messy and hurried, and for once, it felt as if he felt the same you were feeling. As if he too wanted this, needed this more than air itself, and that thought alone made your mind stop functioning. 

Your hands moved from his neck to his chest, fingers clutching onto the satin fabric of his suit, wrinkling the fabric as your noses bumped against each other, sheer desperation showing from the two of you. 

“Viscount Gojo?” 

The two of you almost jumped at the knock that sounded from the door. 

“Your mother is asking where you are. She’s worried about the lady as well,” Fred didn’t peek his head in, and for that you were grateful. You were sure you looked like a total mess at the moment, but Satoru spoke, glancing at the door as he took a deep breath, almost as if it was his first time breathing in a couple of minutes. 

“Tell her that we’re working things out. It’ll take a bit more time.” His voice sounded steady enough, but from where you were standing you could see how swollen his lips were, the fact that they were red and glistening with sweat. His hand on your waist tightened as if he didn’t want to let you go, and your hand lay flat against his chest.

“Of course,” Fred answered, “Take your time.” He shut the door completely, and the two of you waited until you heard his footsteps becoming softer and softer until you could no longer hear them. 

You waited, looking in the direction for another second before you looked up at him only to see his eyes gauging yours for a reaction, somehow a storm going on behind them as he battled twenty different emotions. 

“I’m still hurt Satoru,” you whisper, his eyes never changing but his shoulders tense a bit as you drop your hands away from him, as if you were suddenly coming to your senses and realizing what you had just done, “I can't forgive you this easily.”

You don’t know how to handle your feelings sometimes, and sometimes they catch up to you later than they should. You could still hear his words from that night ringing around your mind and nothing was stopping it no matter how hard you tried. 

“Come get the letter when you’re ready to apologize with more than just your lips.” 

You look back up at him one more time before you push away, feeling him lightly move away from you to give you space as you smooth out the front of your dress, touching your face to make sure that none of the makeup and powder that was swiped against your face wasn’t wrecked as you left. 

You don’t look back as you left him silently in his room, shutting the door behind you as you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you went back down to dinner. 

---

A week passed since your night with Satoru, and you’ve come to terms with the fact that he regrets it. 

It hurts, it hurts even more when you convince yourself that he probably was trying to take pity on you and test how true his old words were, but you couldn’t spiral, knowing that it would cause even more turmoil. 

Lily came by regardless, under the impression that you and her brother made up and are on better terms, and you're in no rush to tell her the truth of what happened. 

She asked about the note, but you insisted that you couldn’t find it. She grumbled that he probably threw it away after she pestered him constantly about it. 

“What about Lord Balfour?” She was sprawled out on your bed, her legs crossed resting it up against the wall with her head at the opposite end, looking on a piece of parchment in which she had gone around asking for men looking for marriage (and a true romantic connection, she stressed). 

“Hm, too bald,” you said, sitting in your vanity, washing off the rest of the powder on your face as you dipped the soft cotton cloth back into the pitcher of water as you looked at her through the mirror, “Isn’t he a year younger than us?”

She pouted as she thought, looking back to her list as she crossed off that name. 

“Count Alexei?” She seemed to like this one and you set your towel down, trying to place a face to the name. 

“Isn’t he from Russia? Wouldn’t it be difficult for him to come back and forth?”  You asked and she nodded, although she seemed more sad that you didn’t want him. 

“Have you just gone around the ton asking if anybody’s looking for marriage?” You teased and she turned around, sitting up as she wiped the hair out of her face. 

“I take your journey to find true love very serious,” she argued and you snorted, knowing that it was a kid if that and the fact that she liked judging the men of the higher class, “Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not.” You turn around from your chair as you face her, urging her to continue. 

“Duke Cambell?” She looked up from the list with a raised brow, only to find you looking the same, taking more time to consider the name. 

“He explicitly stated he’d consider marriage? With me?” You tilt your head to the side. Surely it would be too good to be true. He wasn’t too pretty, nobody was like Satoru, but he wasn’t that bad to look at either. 

“He seemed quite eager about it, actually.” She said, and you smiled a bit, feeling like a silly schoolgirl with the way you ducked your head. 

“He’s a bit shy, isn’t he?” You said with a little giggle and she snorted, nodding as she circled his name and put a question mark next to it. 

“Just means he’s more apt to moan louder,” she said blandly and your mouth dropped, burrowing your face in your hands at her very open nature. Even after ten years it sometimes caught you off guard. 

“Lily!” You shouted, trying to hold in your laugh, and she just looked at you as if you should have expected this as she rose from your bed, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a frantic yawn. 

The sun had already set and she knew her mother would be expecting her to arrive soon, and you went to stand but stopped you. 

“No need to stand, I’ll bid farewell from here.” 

You rolled your eyes at her dramatics, picking up the cloth again as you dabbed at your cheeks. 

“I assume you’ll be here tomorrow?” Crossing your legs as she shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

“Yes. In fact, I’ll leave this prized list with you so that you can mull it over,” she walked over a bit and set it down on the top of your vanity, looking at you as she put a solemn hand on your shoulder, “Do think over Count Alexis. He is rather dreamy.” 

You chuckled, waving goodbye to her as she left the door with a litter thud, blowing kisses as you snorted at her exaggerated act, turning back around to your mirror as you wiped away the remaining bits of your makeup. 

You were already in your dressing gown, the material soft and light on your skin as you set the cloth back down, drying your face off with another one as you got ready to sleep. 

With meticulous care you took your earrings off and began to work on your necklace but struggled with the finicky clasp, your thumb slipping just as you were about to get it. You let out a quick groan of frustration, shutting your eyes as you tried not to lose your temper over a necklace.

“Do you need help with that?” 

You were getting better at controlling your reactions, but your eyes snapped over to the top of your mirror as he stood there, shutting the door behind him. Your hands fell to your lap as you silently seethed. 

Ella was never going to hear the end of it. 

You said nothing and he quietly walked over to where you sat with your back to him, opting to look at him through your mirror as his slender fingers slowly came up to your neck. 

“I’m getting rid of my maid.” You mutter eyes dropped to your lap as you try to control your breath as his fingertips touch your delicate skin, gingerly getting to work of undoing the clasp. He didn’t say anything and the only sound that filled the room was your slow little puffs of air, trying to get your pulse to stop from doing the strange rhythmic beating it always did when you were around him, as if he somehow became the conductor of your heart. 

You heard a small click and the necklace became undone, and he gathered it in his palm as he set it down next to your little trinkets, dropping his hands from your shoulder as his cerulean eyes found yours once again, and you looked away, his deep stare burning through yours. 

“Don’t,” his voice came out rough as if he hadn’t made much use of it for a while, “She’s always turned me away when I came asking for you. I weasled my way through her right now, almost blew my cover when Lily was leaving.” 

Oh.

“I’m over it.” No, you weren’t, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

You opened up the drawer to the left of you, moving some little cases of jewelry around as you found the letter you had hidden away as you brought it out, setting it on the desk as you stood from your chair, pushing it back in as you faced him, “Take it. I didn’t read it.” Despite how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to stoop that low and read through something he didn’t want you to see. 

He glanced over at the letter and then at you, taking the letter with careful movements as he found the letter opener scattered on your desk, ripping through the wax as he opened it up, passing the envelope back to you. 

“Read it.” 

You certainly weren’t expecting that. 

“What?” You couldn’t blink, looking at his outstretched hand that held the very thing that had been bothering you as if it was nothing, “I don’t-” 

“Go on,” he urged quietly, his voice caught in the back of his throat, “Read it out loud. Please.” 

You looked at him once more to make sure he wasn’t going crazy before you gently took it from his hands, your fingers brushing past each other as you opened it up, taking out the letter as you unfolded it, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the worst. 

“I’m terrible at writing letters, you should know,” you start, squinting as you move closer to your candle so that you can read it better, “And you should know that I’ve written this twenty other times. I have-

“Twenty balled-up pieces of paper next to me,” Satoru finished the sentence, not looking at the letter once as he read it from memory, “If only you could see the mess,” he paused, his hands shaking a bit as he continued, “I apologize for not sending as many letters to you as I should, but aside from my travels which have proven to do nothing other than make me regret leaving, I only have one other thing left to tell you. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I thought that it would do me some good to leave and get some time to think about how bad it would be if I said out loud that I was in love with the girl who’s my sister's best friend, but I’ve simply gone mad over needing to see you again. I’m in Paris, which is coincidentally the city of love but I’ve grown bitter and resentful over the fact that the woman I love is an ocean away from me. I can’t do it anymore. No, scratch that, no, I can’t do this other letter…” 

“...It’s too pathetic. You’re worth more than this.” You concluded, reading along because you couldn’t be yourself to look up at him, knowing that you simply would break apart and couldn’t take it as you heard the three words you’ve wanted to hear from the man that you never thought would say them. 

You looked at the paper, eyes scanning each word again as you let out a heavy sigh, feeling like you were living in a dream that was wrapping its arms slowly around you and whisking you away. 

“That night, I projected. I don’t know why I said what I said, I just know that thinking it over told me everything I needed to know and I acted like a coward and a fool and I hurt you when really, I love you. I love you, I’ve never stopped. I burn for you, and I always will.” He whispered, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he cleared his throat, wiping at his nose as he sniffled. 

You’ve never seen him like this, exposed and raw. But you knew that you mirrored his emotions, knew that you were in the same state that he was for he carefully brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping a tear away as he cupped your face in his hands. 

“I know that it would be too much to ask for your forgiveness, but please, I don’t know how much longer I can go without at least seeing your face, hearing your voice, your laugh, you’re kind, kind heart.” His hands trailed down your face, down your arms, and your waist, settling on your hips as he ducked his head downward, tears sliding down the curve of his nose as he did something unexpected. 

The Viscount Gojo Satoru began to kneel. 

You froze, looking down in shock as he bowed his head in shame and apology. 

“‘Toru, please, I,” your voice broke and you quickly wiped your tears away, taking his hands that were sprawled out across your waist as you held them, not knowing how to handle this display of vulnerability as you gently made him look up at you, “Just tell me one thing.” 

His thumb caressed the back of your hand, giving a soft nod as he whispered; “anything,” and his hand moved up your waist, holding your back as your hands unknowingly went to his hair, moving it away from his face as your fingers twirled and played with his white strands, basking in the sense of having him at his knees for you. 

“Why did you wait so long to come back?” Your voice is barely audible as it cracks, a year of missing him and ten years of longing for him coming out as he shakes his head, almost as if he was more remorseful about it than you could ever imagine, and he shifted so that he wasn’t resting on his ankles anymore, digging deep into his pocket as he brought out a little box. 

“I went back to Japan. I was trying to find this little ring my father gave my mother back when he started to pine after her,” he opened up the box, a delicately cut blue diamond rind resting on a thin gold band stared back at you, shining in the candlelight, “I wanted to give it to you as a promise…” and he trailed off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he suddenly became a bit embarrassed, pocketing the box again as he looked back up at you. 

“What was the promise?” You can barely hear your words over the thumping of your heart. 

He swallows, slowly coming to standing back up, never losing his hold on you, clutching onto your thin nightgown as if it was the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“That I’d marry you one day.” He whispered back, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want them to escape the vicinity of your room, this shared space between the two of you in which you stripped each other bare to the soul, only the find that they longed to be in each other's place even when they were miles apart. 

Just as he did so many nights ago, he leaned closer to you, giving you time and space to push him away, to yell, to scream, but you didn’t, nudging his nose with yours as your lips found each other, this time quick and rough and not wanting to be patient because there was no room for such a thing. 

He let out a small groan as you tugged on the hairs at the back of his nape, pushing you further down until your back hit one of your windows, feeling the cool night air from the glass as it traveled through the thin cotton of your slip

It seemed like something in him was finally let go, and you as well, and everything came tumbling down in the best way possible. 

It was so messy and rushed and desperate that you felt like you were going to faint, the air from your lungs being stolen by his hungry and greedy lips as he pushed back roughly against you, needing to taste you, feel you, or else he simply wouldn’t make it. 

Satoru tapped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso as you pulled away slightly, questioning him as he scoffed at your doubt. 

“I spent a year getting bigger and stronger for you,” he murmurs against your lips, “and the first thing you said when you saw me was oh. Come on,” he nipped at your lips, his boyish and charming smile growing when you whimpered, “Test me out.” 

You gave in, standing on your toes as you did what he asked, and you let out a little laugh of surprise at how he wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he smirked, going away from the ball as he led you to your bed, basking in the sound of your twinkling laughter as you admired him in all his glory. 

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you tease and he snorts, fixing your gown as he hovers above you. He was huge, so much bigger than you anticipated in your imagination, but it was so much better than you ever could have thought. 

“I’d never lie to you,” he promised, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips that left you breathless as he continued downwards, pressing kisses down your jaw, and your neck, spending time as he sucked at one of your vital points, enjoying the way you sounded like you had run a marathon. 

He looks stunning here; his lips look bruised and swollen, pink and wet with spit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body, and if you weren’t crazy about how he looked at you, you would’ve shielded yourself away in embarrassment. 

But he didn’t give you any time to think it over, pushing past your loose nightgown as he pressed delicate pecks to your shoulders and upper chest region, looking up at you to make sure it was okay to continue. 

You quickly nodded, eager to see what he was going to do. 

“Mind if I take this off?” He asks, tugging at the ends of it as you look at him from beneath your lashes, trying to feel indifferent as you shrug, but the way you smile giddily gives away just how badly you want him to. 

“I wouldn’t mind.” You help him move it upwards, your arms coming out from the sleeves as the chilly air hits your naked skin, and you suddenly realize just how out in the open you are compared to him. 

Out of second nature, you go to cover your chest but he tsks, gently pushing your hands away as he eyes your breasts, looking like he had just come back from staring at the sistine chapel with the way he looks at you. 

Your nipples harden from how cold it was, and he slowly dips his head down to one of your tits, kissing the soft and supple skin as he inches closer to your bud, finally latching his mouth onto it as you throw your head back, arching your back into his lips as he sucks like his life depends on it. 

“S-shit, ‘Toru, so good,” you mewl, wrapping your hands around his neck as he flattens his tongue against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive area as you whine even louder, not seeming to care if anybody outside your door could hear. 

His other hand lathes onto your other one, not wanting to leave her unattended as he pinches your nipple between his two fingers, twisting it just enough to make you shut your eyes at how good the attention feels. 

“Let me hear you,” he groans into your skin, looking up at you as you try to cover up your mouth with your hand, “I’ll stop if you cover up that pretty mouth of yours.” 

You simply nod, leaving your shaky hand to grip your bed sheets as he switches his mouth and hand with each other, giving you different sensations to wrap your hands around as you feel a deep part of your pulse, needing more of him. 

“‘Toru, please,” your voice comes out shaky as he releases your tit with a pop, his hands going down to hold onto your hips as you bring his chin up for another kiss of swapping spit with him, growing to appreciate the lewdness of it all as you lay feather light kisses on his jawline, feeling him shudder beneath you, “Wan’ more.” 

At any other time, he would have drawn this out, would have teased and prodded at you to use your words, to tell him where you needed him most, but he couldn’t wait with you, wanting to have a taste of you himself. 

So his wolfish grin comes back, his hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just above your mound as he cocks a brow at the way you seem to grow impatient, reaching the place you seemed to have in mind. 

“Here?” He asked quietly, his pointer finger moving to find your clit as you let out a quiet gasp, his expert fingers having nothing on your inexperienced ones. Sure you’ve touched yourself deep into the night when you made sure everybody was asleep, but it never felt like this. 

You couldn’t speak, so you nodded again, and that seemed to be good enough for Satoru as his finger moved down to your lips, a deep groan coming from within his chest as he felt how wet you were, and prodded his finger at your tight walls, slowly pushing past them as he seemed to be in a trance. 

You sucked him in so delightfully, pulsing against his as your slick stained his finger, making it easier for him to fuck you with a little bit more pace, careful not to hurt you, as he brought it back up to circle at your clit, trying to find what places you liked to be teased most. 

“O-oh my god,” your eyes rolled back in your head as his long find pushed back against your gummy walls, his other thumb finding your nub as you whined even louder, not used to feeling this good, spreading your legs out even further as you tried to make room for him. 

“There you go, s’perfect,” he said against your skin, dipping down as he moved a hand to keep your thighs further apart, “Mind if I have a taste?” And you were in another dimension, just cradling his neck as you pushed him to go further. 

He chuckled darkly, nearly going insane as he neared your glistening pussy, eyes growing dark as he moved his fingers away so that his tongue could have its turn, and you swore you almost came right there. 

He licked gingerly, savoring you first as he groaned, his thumb never giving up on circling and massaging your clit, but he began to eat you out as his life depended on it, licking and sucking like you were his last meal. 

“‘Toru, ‘Toru, fuck!” You screamed, biting your lip harshly as you kept your finger tight around his hair, “Don’t stop, please!” 

“F-fuck,” he murmured, coming up for a quick breath as he looked at you from his long white lashes, “Fucking kill me if I ever stop, okay?” 

He goes back in with the same amount of fervor, your chest moving up and down as you arch into his mouth, your jaw going slack as you quickly feel that rope in your stomach tightening, embarrassed at coming so early but knowing that there was no way you could stop yourself with the way he fingered you out at the same time he ate you out. 

“I’m yours,” he said against your skin, “I’ll always be yours.” It was out of place, but it seemed like he was branding it into your skin so that everybody else knew, knew that he belonged solely to you.

It was too much, and you felt like you were slowly losing your ability to think, talk, or do anything, and the only thing you could feel was him, and you felt it all coming to a crescendo as his mouth latched onto your clit, letting it all go as you came into his mouth. 

“‘M c-coming, mmmm fuck!” You couldn’t even believe the sounds you were making as you clenched around his finger, your essence coating his chin and hand as your legs were trembling, glad that he held a stable hand on your waist. 

You saw white for a couple of seconds, taking even longer to catch your breath, your tits rising and falling with each heave, and you suddenly felt like you came back down to earth, peeking out from an eye to see Satoru smiling down at you, his face soft and you whined in shock at what just happened, hiding your face into one of your pillows as he laughed lowly, the sound dripping down your ears like warm honey. 

“You just came around me, no need to be modest now.” He gently moved your face away from the sanctuary of your pillow so that you could look at him again, and he leaned down, pressing one final kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him as you let out a muffled moan. 

“How do you feel?” He asked as he pulled away, sitting on his haunches, letting you drape the blanket around your sweaty chest as you tried to sit up, shaking a bit as you tried to recover from your mind-breaking orgasm. 

“Good,” you say groggily, wiping at your eyes as you give him a lazy, languid smile, “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, chuckling as you nod, finding his hands as you play with his long fingers, and he lets you watch as you let them entangle with each other, somehow feeling more connected through this than the previous activity as you slowly pull him back down towards you, wanting nothing more than to curl into his chest. 

“Give me a second love,” he wanted the same thing, but he pulled away, “Let me clean you up.” 

You didn’t fight it and let him go, watching as he found the pitcher of water on your desk as he found a clean rag and wet it, coming back to your bed until his eyes caught something under the sheets. 

He picked it up, reading it as he sat down next to you, running the cold towel across your thighs as you let out a little whimper at the temperature. He pressed an apologetic kiss to your forehead as he turned the paper around in silent questioning. 

Your eyes widened, trying to take it away but he held it above your head. If you had more fight in you, you might have wrestled for it, but you gave up, letting him clean you up as he tried not to laugh at how measly it was. 

“I doubt Cambell would know how to make you come.” He finally says, throwing the rag away somewhere as you groan, pushing his face slowly away as you try to fight the giddy laugh that was going to bubble its way from your chest. 

“Stop! Lily was just trying to help!” You argue and he waves his hands, loosening the buttons of his tunic as he crawls in next to you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“It’s fine love,” he nestles his nose in your hairline, smiling when you hitch a leg over his, “You’re mine now.” 

You look up at him, tracing over his features with the light touch of your fingertips as he leans into your warmth. 

“Do you promise?” 

He gives a single nod, sliding the delicate ring over your finger, and closes his hand around yours. 

“Promise.”