#long gone is the time i took my time to research every one of the singers that participated

[withahappyrefrain]

First off, this was beautiful. The relationship between Bradley and Smart Aleck is so amazing but also so realistic. Like their conversations are similar to ones I've had with my own husband. The chemistry is off the charts and I simply cannot get enough of them.

Also them being domestic?!?! Getting ready for a vacation?!?! My heart my heart!!

And now for my ramblings below:

But honestly it's so realistic that he fell asleep I don't blame him

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

IM ALREADY CRYING 😭

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

SIRRRRRR THE SWITCH??? from needing to cuddle her to THIS? Deceased.

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

I love them so much they're too cute your honor 😭😭😭

That tattoo gets me Everytime my heart breaks every time

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Him making her an audiobook I'm dead. Not just because that's hot as hell, but also the fact he wants to do research into the dynamic and make it right/good for her????? Like???! Bradley Bradshaw, the man that you are!!!

God, he would love missionary for how close it lets him be. A romantic at heart! I love him. Also love how he's obsessed with her tits like yes girl, get it!

This fic is making me feel much better about gaining some weight, thank you for your service

She's dimming the light?! Baby girl he loves you, he loves your body!!! 😭😭 I feel for her, I feel her so hard. Also I really love that you gave her a struggle that so many of us have gone through. Like your insecurities don't just magically vanish when you're in a loving relationship, it takes time and work and I know Smart Aleck will get there!

Stop shaking the thought away Bradley! God, he's so close, so freaking close to figuring it out!!! And in a way I like that it takes him time because that's realistic but I still want to shake them both

Her not knowing what to wear 😭😭 God this is hitting me so hard. And Bradley is just trying to be supportive!! Honestly surprised I haven't cried yet because I feel her so much

You've also convinced me that yes, Maverick is Bradley's dad. I love that smart Aleck has a relationship with him as well!

Bradley's right, if I met a 30 year old man who went by Teddy, it would be an immediate red flag. Also the way he's so protective of her and Amelia?! My heart can't take much more Jordan 😭😭

THE PHONE SEX?!?!?! JORDAN ELIZABETH (idk your middle name, I'm just inserting one bc holy shit that was hot and entirely too short God, do they need a third??? Asking for a friend).

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

THE WAY HE IS SO DESPERATE AND NEEDY FOR HER JORDAN I AM FERAL. FERAL!

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

OH MY GOD ITS THIS SCENE THE ONE YOU TALKED ABOUT

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations.

Jake, that sounds like a personal problem my dude.

Hi, can I personally slap her mom?? Smart Aleck, Bradley loves your curves!! 😭😭I need the next part, I need Bradley to remind her she is more than her body, that he loves her no matter what size she is!!

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

--------------

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

--------------

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

-------------

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

-------------

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

--------------

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

--------------

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[bubblegumr1ck]

My tic (singular for now, let's hope it stays that way) is annoying me, so you know what. Curse be upon ye. I now headcanon that Rick and Morty both have tics.

Rick's vary wildly and every time he "fixes" one another one develops. They couldn't possibly be caused by his stress or anxiety, no—he's convinced they're all caused by his implants and that he can eventually fix them all. He's forever stuck in the denial/bargaining phase until he sees Morty struggling too and feeling othered by Rick's efforts to "fix" himself.

Rick's tics mostly include jerking motions, weird leg/arm movements. This sometimes includes violent actions like punching; not so bad when he's out on adventures or by himself, but terrible when he's sitting at the table with his family eating breakfast or dinner. More rarely is he affected by making repetitive sounds or consistent facial tics but when those happen he isolates himself more.

Morty's tics are caused by his anxiety but no matter what he does they never really go away. Loud lights, sudden sounds, and caffeine tend to trigger them.

Morty's tics are facial. Eye-flinching, grimacing, the works. One time, it looked like he was winking at Jessica and Brad wasn't very happy about that. Over time he's gotten better at disguising them, but they still make him feel awkward.

Once Rick accepted that ticks were just a fact of life and started supporting Morty, they both felt much less alone.

[flemingology]

Hey could you maybe do a fic about reader and alexia on christmas eve where reader is very pregnant and the baby is due in a couple of weeks but it comes early (christmas eve) and there is a lot of stress and drama of course being mainly from alexia and the baby is eventually born on christmas! maybe include alexia’s family and some of the barca girls in some way? Sorry it’s so long😭

christmas came early ─ alexia putellas x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: christmas eve unexpectedly brings you and alexia the gift of new life

warnings: pregnancy (symptoms), labour (not descriptive at all lol), very fluffy

wc: 4k

a/n: i wasn't too clued up on writing labor, so i didn't. i didn't want to make it unrealistic and i was gonna get mad as hell at myself if i tried and i couldn't get it how i wanted. i hope you enjoy tho!

“Be careful,” Alexia hummed against your lips, giving you another kiss after claiming 4 times that the previous one was the last one. “I will. We will. I promise.” Your fiancée tentatively crouched down and put her hands protectively on the side of your growing bump. “Be nice to mama,” she said softly, her eyes flicking towards yours as she spoke to the little wonder growing inside of your belly. “She’s making sure you’re gonna be all strong and healthy when you’re born in a couple months.” The Spaniard finished with a soft kiss against your belly, hoisting herself back up and tenderly pressing her lips against yours. The last one, she promised, again.

You’d never get used to the sight of Alexia speaking to your bump, speaking to the little life that was growing inside of you and that was going to make you mothers. “Chop, chop. Don’t be late. I love you.” Alexia hummed in mock annoyance, but turned on her heels and stepped towards the front door. “I’ll be back for dinner. I promise.” She blew you one final kiss and then set off to the training grounds.

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, it was like someone flipped a switch within Alexia. She had always been quite protective over you, way more rooted in jealousy than she'd ever like to admit, but since you were carrying her baby, she took it to another level. Not only that, she was also preparing for motherhood like she would prepare for football games. She researched, took classes, watched youtube videos and read articles with great interest and attention, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the day your kiddo would arrive.

Part of Alexia's overprotectiveness was also rooted in the struggle you'd gone through in trying to get pregnant. Your IVF journey hadn't been the kindest on either of you. Failed attempt after failed attempt, you were nearing the brink of giving up, but on your 4th attempt it had finally stuck. You couldn't nearly express the joy that overcame the both of you, the realization dawning on you that you were going to become mothers. Together. A childhood dream that was finally coming into fruition, with the love of your life.

The first couple months, though, were hell. Headaches, dizziness, cramping, food aversions, backaches, nausea, vomiting, swelling, itching – you name it, you had it. It felt like life punching you in the face for having wished so bad to get pregnant, you had to deal with all the consequences now. Still, you took it in your stride as best as you could. You kept going to work for as long as possible (until Alexia could no longer be convinced to allow you to go), you stayed on top of your part of the chores at home, you still went to all of your wife's football games, all whilst trying to get used to and accommodate for the little life that was growing in your belly. Symptoms be damned, you were finally pregnant and you wouldn't let anything ruin your happy, little pregnant bubble.

Now, with the due date nearing, Alexia was very reluctant to leave you for training every day. You assured her time and time again that you were going to be fine, your mum and Eli both had their phones on them at all times for if you were to call with an emergency. A well-packed hospital bag had been sitting by the door since a couple weeks (way too early but you gave in when Alexia had been pacing around the house for the best part of an hour instead of sleeping), so you were good to go to the hospital if necessary. The staff at Barcelona kept Alexia's phone with them at all times, so that a potential call wouldn’t go lost in an empty dressing room.

Christmas was nearing, though, and even though your wife was reluctant to agree, you'd invited Ingrid and Mapi over for a Christmas dinner. You were still a couple weeks from your due date, so you assured her you'd be fine. You opted to stay at home rather than going out, Ingrid and Alexia deciding they would cook the meals for the evening so you could lay back and relax. There were a couple times in the running up to the holidays that Alexia tried to convince you to blow off the plans you'd made, but you insisted you didn't. As much as you couldn't wait to meet the little baby growing in your belly, you didn't want to miss out on your final Christmas Eve with just your fiancée because of her stubborn overprotectiveness.

–

Alexia got up with the reflexes of a cat when the bell rang, glaring down at you as you also tried to get up. You didn't fight back and plopped yourself back down on the couch, too tired and too big a belly to really argue her point. Preparations for tonight hadn't been smooth sailing, in all honesty. You'd been hit quite bad with some of the third trimester symptoms lately, especially the Braxton Hicks had majorly upped in frequency. They were very short, only mildly uncomfortable and infrequent as you started to get them, but now only three weeks from your due date, the tightening sensations in your uterus lasted longer, were more painful and came in a steady frequency.

Your fiancée uncoordinatedly ran around the house all afternoon, trying her best to balance preparations for Christmas Eve and a very pregnant, slightly annoyed girlfriend to the best of her abilities. She managed, though, and you never really doubted that she wouldn't. If you had to describe your lover in one word, it would surely be determined. Whether it came to football, or taking care of you, or arranging your shoes on the shoe rack with meticulous, millimetered precision – she didn't do things half-assed. It was all or nothing for the Spanish midfielder.

The table was set, wine was cooled (lemon water for you, seemingly your latest craving), some preparations for dinner had started, presents were on the coffee table, soft music was playing from the speakers around the apartment, the mood lights were on, Alexia did good. More than good, and it settled half your nerves for the evening. You hated that you couldn't help her, that you were bound to the sofa. But even if she allowed you to help, you would probably not be able to find the energy to get up and run around the place.

You heard some muffled voices coming from the hall, moving to sit slightly more upright, but you got caught out by another Braxton Hick. You winced slightly and rubbed your hand over your swollen bump, closing your eyes and trying to control your breathing.

"Amor, are you okay?" Alexia's worried voice rang through the living room as the three of them entered the living room. You took another deep breath before replying, the contraction easing away as you finally sat up a little more. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Ale. Just another Braxton Hick." You mustered up a small smile, and if Alexia sensed the worry in your expression, she didn't say anything about it. They'd been more frequent than ever before today, and it was worrying you slightly. You tried to push away the thoughts, though, excited to celebrate Christmas Eve with your fiancée and two of your best friends.

The night went on smoothly. Conversation flowed easily, as it always did between the four of you, and Ingrid and Alexia cooked up a delicious meal. The girls each made a dish from their respective home countries, Alexia making Catalan escudella – a meat stew with sausage, and Ingrid made pinnekjøtt, lamb prepared in a way that you tried your best to remember, but couldn't try to remake even if you tried. The table was filled with all kinds of deliciousness, and you felt genuinely happy. The Winter holidays had always been your favorite period of the year, so to be celebrating it with some of the most important people in your life, felt great.

It wasn't until later that evening that you all found yourself on the sofa again and got to opening presents. You all promised one another that you wouldn't go overboard with anything, but no one wanted to come up empty-handed. Mapi gifted you and Alexia a tiny little Barcelona shirt with your fiancée's name on the back, a baby Adidas tracksuit and then also some scented candles and incense sticks for around the apartment. You and Alexia bought Mapi and Ingrid a gift card from this art store they'd been wanting to buy something from the past couple months, and a couple bottles of fine Spanish wine.

The four of you lounged on the sofa, enjoying each other's company as the evening ticked away. You were taking a moment to yourself to appreciate your surroundings; your cozy apartment made even warmer by three of the most important people in your life, with a little baby growing in your belly, that'd been growing safe and healthy inside of you for the past 37 weeks. The warm laughter of your fiancée rang through your place and you felt fuzzy inside, taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment. Your state of bliss got abruptly interrupted, though, by another Braxton Hick. Or so you thought. Your wince didn't go unnoticed by your invitees, their conversation quieting down as they glanced over at you. "All good, baby?" Alexia said softly, as she put a hand on the small of your back.

You were about to tell her you were fine, that it was probably just another practice contraction, until you could feel something warm and wet between your legs. You thought you were imagining things, but it was there. It was definitely there. "Ale," you breathed, trying to compose yourself before you set off the whole house with what you were about to say. "I think my water broke." You opened your eyes just enough to see how Alexia's widened, her mouth opening and closing a couple times, seemingly rooted to her spot on the sofa.

"Joder," she murmured, "you're not due another three weeks!" You winced as another contraction came, doubling over to the best of your abilities with your pregnant bump in the way. "Vale, Alexia, do something!" You heard Ingrid say, ushering your fiancée to stand up and get the hospital bag. "Come here, love, I'll help you stand up and we'll get you to the car." Ingrid's soothing voice grounded you slightly, and you looked up at her with a worried expression. "I'm not due another three weeks," you mumbled. "That's okay. Your baby has been growing fine as it should be, so this won't be a problem. Three weeks isn't all that bad. You'll be fine. But you have to go to the hospital, okay? Take my hand." You did as the Norwegian told and gripped her hand like a vice, not missing the wince shooting across her face but not bothered enough to care. You stood up with Ingrid's aid and looked at the wet spot on the sofa, another confirmation that you really weren't imagining things. Your baby was on its way.

Ingrid led you towards the front door of your apartment while Mapi called the elevator up, the both of them wanting to get you downstairs and in the car as quick as possible. You heard rummaging around behind you, probably Alexia rushing around the place trying to get everything that was necessary.

She had never been as nervous as she was now. Not during Champions League finales, not while taking game-winning penalty kicks, not at the World Cup, no. Nothing would ever compare to the stress she felt right now. The hospital bag that had been sat at the door for weeks seemingly didn't have everything, according to Alexia's thoughts (it definitely had way more than necessary, but you didn't have the heart to tell her that), so she haphazardly threw in some more stuff that she could find around the house. Why you'd need a cutting board, she doesn't know. She still threw it in there. A mop? Probably handy for something, no? She threw the door to your apartment closed behind her and rushed downstairs, Ingrid and Mapi already helping you in the car as she threw the bag in the trunk and rushed over to the driver side.

"Stay with her, Ingrid," Alexia said. "Hold her hand in the back seat, por favor." Your fiancée's voice was laced with worry, but you couldn't find it in you to try and console her. You knew she didn't have to rush like was doing right now, it was going to be hours before you'd actually go into labor, but the contractions were getting more frequent and were definitely getting more painful, leaving you speechless and crushing Ingrid's hand. Mapi sat next to Alexia in the passenger seat and you were slowly realizing that probably wasn't the best of ideas, the two women both as nervous as each other and not helping one another in the slightest at calming down.

The ride to the hospital was less than smooth, and you could hear Ingrid scolding Alexia every couple minutes for her driving. She was speeding, definitely also crossed a red light, traffic fines be damned. You arrived in 12 minutes, 5 minutes less than it'd took the last time you practiced the drive to the hospital. Alexia stepped out of her driver seat and rushed to the other side of the car, helping Ingrid with getting you out of the backseat of her car. "Lean on me, amor, it's not far, okay?" You were relatively sure you would be able to keep yourself standing, but the idea of leaning your body weight into your fiancée was to enticing to turn down.

Once you were inside and registered, everything went by in a flurry. You were led to a room where you'd have to wait until you had enough dilation to actually go into labour. You went from contraction to contraction, each one getting worse than the other, up to the point where you felt like you had to get your baby out. They had completely dropped, and you could feel them pushing against your underside. The waiting felt endless, and you felt like an eternity went by until you were finally cleared to go into labour. It had been an eternity to be fair, having had to wait the best part of 5 hours.

Alexia stayed with you during labour, whispering words of affirmation and motivation in your ear whilst you worked your way through birthing your baby. It was rough, painful, hard, it was ugly. You screamed, cried, yelled, you got angry, but it was all for a good cause. You were pretty sure that you bruised Alexia's hand as you held it through it all, but not a fiber in your body could be bothered with anything but pushing the human past your lips out of your belly into the world.

At 4:03am, you finally did it. You felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had successfully birthed your little baby, and they were healthy. Alexia got to cut the umbilical cord, something she felt quite apprehensive about, but an experience she wouldn't want to trade for the world. "Mi amor, you did it, look at him." Alexia leaned her forehead against yours as the nurses were cleaning up your son, preparing him for some skin-to-skin contact in a couple moments. You closed your eyes and breathed her in, a small smile forming on your lips despite the heavy exhaustion that rested on your limbs. "Sorry about your hand," you whispered. "No sorry. I'll let you bruise my hand a thousand times if that means we get to have a healthy son."

You felt an overwhelming sense of gratification and love as Alexia pressed a tender kiss against your forehead. You stayed like that for a couple moments, until the nurses finished cleaning up your son and waddling him in a little blanket. Now came a time what they called the golden hour, a critical moment for the newborn and their mother to bond. Your son was softly placed on your chest, your hands being guided to support him and his head appropriately. He stirred a little, but seemed to find a comfortable position to rest in, and seemed to fall asleep quite quickly. You felt tears well up in your eyes at the perfect sight in front of you. Finally, after trying for so long, you had a perfectly healthy baby laying on your bare chest. It was yours. Yours and Alexia's.

You cradled his head and kept him close to you while he slept, your fingers trailing across his tiny body. "He's so small," you whispered. You looked up at Alexia when you didn't get a response, noticing her sitting on the chair next to your bed, with unshed tears in her eyes. "Oh, baby," you cooed, holding out your unoccupied hand for her to take. She intertwined her fingers with yours and brought your hand up to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it. "You did it," she mumbled, repeating the same words from before. You chuckled. "Yeah, I did," you spoke softly. You stayed in silence for some time until your son started to stir a little. The nurses had said that he'd probably not be able to sleep for too long before he'd have to eat.

"I think he's hungry, Ale." The brunette perked up and stood from the chair, accompanying you by the side of the bed. "Want me to call a nurse? Or will you manage yourself?" You contemplated the options. "You should call a nurse. Just to be sure." It didn't take long for someone to arrive in the room, and she assured you that you did the right thing by calling someone over. With the help of the nurse you unbuttoned the hospital robe further and helped your son settle against your exposed breast, guiding his head to your nipple. He latched on immediately, and an unfamiliar feeling overcame you as you felt his little mouth sucking on your nipple. "Are you okay, bebé?" You nodded, relaxing a little deeper into the bed and holding your son tight against you so he could nurse. Alexia watched on in awe as you fed your newborn baby. She was amazed by everything that was happening, by her child, by you. More tears welled up in her eyes as she watched you nurse him, feeling overwhelmed by the love for her newfound family. She cupped the back of your head with her hand and guided your face towards hers, locking gazes. "You're incredible. Te amo." You smiled brightly at your fiancée and responded, "I love you so much."

The rest of the night went on smoothly, and by the time the clock hit 5:30 you were all settled again. Your son had nursed perfectly, settling some of the nerves you'd had around the whole feeding process. The nurse assured that everything was fine with him, and also gave the okay to Alexia to take him from you if she wanted to. She hesitated, worried that she in some way would break him if she took him away from your chest. "Bebé, what if I drop him?" You withheld a chuckle, quickly realizing that she was being way more serious than you thought she was. "Alexia, you won't drop him. I promise you. You're going to do so good." You tried to reassure her, but her eyes were still laced with worry as she leaned over to you. You let her take him from you, guiding her hands and arms to support his body and his head appropriately, and then she was holding him. She was holding him. In her arms. He slightly stirred, both you and Alexia holding your breath as he let out a little cry, but he quickly settled against her chest, breathing out a deep sigh.

You stared at the scene in front of you like a lovesick puppy, and you weren't sure anything in your life would ever top the way you felt right now. In front of you was your fiancée, soon-to-be wife, who was holding your son, your little wonder that you had the privilege of carrying for the past 37 weeks. In this moment, you couldn't imagine that you ever even contemplated giving up on your IVF journey. Then you wouldn't have had the pleasure to extend your family of 2 into a very happy family of 3. "He's so perfect," Alexia whispered, carefully not to wake up your son. She softly traced a finger over his face, his tiny nose, down to his tummy. "So small." She continued her path down to his legs and then his sock-covered feet, admiring the way they both fit right into her hand.

"Want me to call the girls over?" You questioned softly, not wanting to ruin the moment, but Alexia had told you earlier that Mapi and Ingrid were still waiting in the waiting room and you didn't want to hold them from any sleep any longer than you had to. They were professional athletes at last, and even though they were on a break, it wasn't the best for them to be out of their sleep rhythm for this long. "Sí, you can call them." You did, and it didn't take much longer than a minute for the two girls to enter your room.

You met their gazes and noticed how tears welled up in both their eyes, seeing their ever so stern captain holding her son with so much love and adoration in her eyes. "Dios mío, es tan pequeño," Mapi whispered, slowly inching closer to where Alexia was stood, close to your bed. You could see the tiredness etched across their face, but neither Mapi nor Ingrid would've missed this moment for a lifetime. "What's his name?" Ingrid asked, her gaze pointed towards you. "James."

You and Alexia had disagreed on everything until you found the name you eventually agreed on. She didn't like what you liked, and you didn't like what she liked. But when you stumbled across James, a Hebrew name with Greek roots, the equivalent of Jaume, your minds were made up.

"James", Mapi whispered, leaning over your son and softly tracing along his nose with your finger. "He's perfect, wow. Congratulations to both of you. You're going to be amazing parents."

You soaked up the love from the moment. The clock was nearing 6 now, and you were beyond exhausted, but the sight of your fiancée cradling your son close to her chest is what kept you going. Your little Christmas miracle. You wouldn't change it for the world.

[haikyu-mp4]

Yoga partner

word count; 667 – pregnant!reader

You were a few months pregnant and every time you felt like you were adjusting to the size of your bump, it seemed to get bigger. When you found out you were pregnant, your husband, Bokuto Koutarou, had been moved to tears and there was no lack of support from him so far through the pregnancy. That’s why you weren’t afraid to communicate your troubles to him as they started plaguing your mind.

As it got more difficult to adjust to your body changing, the two of you sat down to research pregnancy activities. And then Koutarou got bored of researching, so he ended up asking someone on the team who had kids instead.

That’s how he learnt about pregnancy yoga. There were classes specifically for pregnant women, and in his excitement, Koutarou had signed you up and encouraged you to go. However, now he was looking at you with a subtle pout as you leaned on the kitchen island, not feeling as sporty as you wished you did.

“I don’t want to go. What if all the others are used to it and do super well while I can barely do anything?” you complained, pouting right back at him. This made him huff, resting his arms on his hips. Then his eyes lit up again. Oh no, an idea.

“Maybe I should go with you!”

Next thing you knew, Koutarou was helping you out of the car, adorned in the gym wear he had that most resembled yours in colour. You were laughing softly, holding his hand as he babbled about how excited he was.

When you walked inside, your laughter died down as you scanned the room. A lot of moms-to-be were staring cautiously, first at you and then at your husband who smiled and waved. You felt the anxiety creep back into you as you whispered your husband's name to alert him, but he took no notice.

“Hello, ladies! Ready for a good workout?” he called out, and it didn’t take long before the moms melted for his personality (and looks probably, but you tried to ignore that for now). In the end, he wasn’t allowed inside the class because of the women's comfort, but he gave everyone encouraging high fives while the trainer led them inside the little gym. Before closing the door behind you as you were last, you turned to him and pulled his shirt down so you could kiss him fiercely.

“That’s for being such a perfect man. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Koutarou was thrilled to see the glow back in your cheeks when you came back out. He had gone for a jog around the neighbourhood but made sure he was back before you finished. When you walked out of the class, you were conversing happily with another woman before bidding her goodbye. You made new friends! Even though you were still shy, you had asked to exchange numbers.

All of this was possible because your husband encouraged and supported you. You truly were blessed to have him and he reminded you every day how lucky you were through this constant support.

Now you even bring him into the living room at least once a week so the two of you can do pregnancy yoga by following some videos you found on YouTube. It’s great fun and Koutarou proudly documents it in the workout journal they fill out for their trainer.

7 pm Pregnancy yoga

Iwaizumi tilted his head at him curiously after looking over this month’s notes. “You’re not supposed to write your wife’s workouts.”

“We’re doing them at home now, too. Feel like it’s doing great things for my bum,” he answered, one hand on each asscheek for emphasis. Iwaizumi already regretted asking about it. Atsumu slapped one of Koutarou's hands off from behind him before staring at his butt and humming.

“Not bad. Maybe we should all do it.”

To say the least, Koutarou is very dedicated to being with you every step of the way.

masterlist

[cherriegyuu]

lens of ice | yjh | one

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part word count: 12k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓

part one | part two (final)

The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.

Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.

"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"

Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice. 

Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.

"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"

The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.

"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists" 

"When can I have the surgery?"

You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.

"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"

Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.

"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"

That was enough to get your attention.

"Why?" 

Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.

The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.

"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"

It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.

"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"

Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.

"Well, good luck to you"

"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"

You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.

"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"

"Nothing will change" 

A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.

"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"

Jihoon simply shook his head at you.

"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"

With a salute Jihoon left.

"Fuck"

You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock. 

"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.

Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"

Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.

"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"

Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.

"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"

Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.

"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.

A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium. 

And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan? 

"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed" 

Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.

"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"

Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him. 

"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.

With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you. 

"Will you need to film my family?" 

"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life" 

Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.

"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"

You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so. 

Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.

Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second. 

In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.

And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.

“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.

“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.

“Fine”

“Just fine?”

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.

“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”

Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.

Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.

Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.

“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.

You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.

“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.

You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.

“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”

“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”

Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.

“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.

You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.

“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”

The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.

You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.

You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.

The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.

And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.

Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.

"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.

You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"

Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.

Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.

Option b was actually the only possible choice.

“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”

Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.

“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.

“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.

You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.

“What if I say something and regret it later?”

It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.

“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.

“Can we throw it all away and start again?”

Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.

“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.

“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”

With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.

Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.

“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”

“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”

He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.

“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”

“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”

He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.

“No, the ultimate goal is to win”

As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.

You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.

“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”

“Hi”

The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.

His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.

“Can we film it?” You asked.

Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.

For Jeonghan, that was never the case.

Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.

Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.

As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.

“You said you would film anything and everything.”

You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.

In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.

“Do you think it’s important?”

You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.

“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”

“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it

You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.

Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary. 

You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either. 

While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten. 

It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that. 

However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?

You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him. 

It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain. 

Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes. 

"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?"  someone asked. 

You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you. 

"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed. 

"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?" 

"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?" 

"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?" 

The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.

Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him. 

You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head. 

“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried

“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad. 

That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you. 

“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse. 

“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”

By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot. 

The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake. 

As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.

The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.

Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.

Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.

What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.

You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.

In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.

You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.

Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.

You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.

It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.

"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”

You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.

Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?

There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.

It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.

That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?

Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling. 

It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua. 

It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments. 

His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little. 

“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.

Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels. 

“I think she will,” Jeonghan said. 

Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit. 

“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”

Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough. 

“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”

“Am I not a real person?”

The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.

“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment

“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”

Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.

“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”

Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.

“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”

After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.

Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours. 

The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much. 

It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics. 

And he only had one change left. 

So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted. 

He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked him.

Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because. 

However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring. 

He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself  In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.

“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”

You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.

“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”

He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore. 

Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.

“Do you think I can still do it?”

There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see. 

Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment. 

“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”

You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way. 

Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.

"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan. 

He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it. 

Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.

"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile. 

"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"

Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin. 

"Come on, humor me"

You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.

"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”

Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.

Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.

Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.

It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.

“Where did you see those pictures?”

“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”

One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.

He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.

“I thought we were getting to know each other”.

Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.

There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.

And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.

Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.

“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.

You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.

“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”

Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”

You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.

In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.

The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.

For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.

You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.

It was become just you and your job.

Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.

“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”

You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.

He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?

Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.

He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.

Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.

Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.

“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.

He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.

"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.

Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.

"I realized I don't know anything about you"

You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.

"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"

He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.

At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.

"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.

"Whatever you want to share"

The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.

"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"

You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"

For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.

You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."

You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.

Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.

"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"

You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"

You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed. 

Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.

So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.

Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.

"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.

Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.

Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.

"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"

Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.

"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"

The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.

You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.

"You have to rest"

You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.

“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”

Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.

Finally, you were alone.

“You have to rest,” you said again.

You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.

“I need to get it right”

"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"

A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.

"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”

You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else. 

“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours. 

“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”

You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around. 

So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land. 

Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him. 

“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing. 

“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.

You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.

But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.

You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.

“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”

You saw it and shook your head again.

“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.

Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.

“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”

“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”

You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.

From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.

With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.

He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.

“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”

Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.

With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,

“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.

Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“I won’t let you fall”

The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you. 

You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.

When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink. 

“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”

Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course. 

His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”

The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.

“I think we should stop here”

You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.

You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.

"I thought that…"

“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.

You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.

But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.

Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.

"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”

You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.

“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”

Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.

“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”

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[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part two

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to an end.

warnings: none besides being slightly unedited.

word count: 1.4k

4 months later 

Dearest Wynnie Lara,

I hope you are doing well, we miss you very dearly in the Night Court but understand you leaving after such harsh things were spoken to you. I wanted to invite you to Nyx’s first birthday celebration. He does miss you so much. (As do we).

After finding out what Azriel and the other two had said to you I almost blew up their homes with the help of my sisters. 

Elain misses you very much, even though she writes letters to you weekly, you and her seemed to help each other heal after everything happened to you both. She won't tell anybody where you have gone so I will be handing this letter to her in hopes it reaches you. 

We miss you so much, and I hate that the boys said those harsh things to you for no reason. You are not a bother, or suffocating, you light up every space you go into which is so refreshing, I do not want you to feel forced to come home (Nesta feels otherwise, she misses you so much she almost started a war with another court in search of you.) But we do want you to know you do have a home here. No matter what. I know Rhys feels devastated with how the situation turned out, even though it is partially his fault.  I want to make it clear how sorry we are for their actions and that we adore you. 

Lovingly, 

Feyre

I crumple the edges of the letter with tears streaming down my face, with a shaking breath I fold the letter gently and put it back into the envelope. I set it with the piles of letters Elain has sent to me on my coffee table. I wipe my face and head over to my rough looking door of the tree house that I am living in and latch it. This area of the Autumn Court has always been on the poorer side but it was home. Growing up with no family and moving around as a fairy was never safe, so before Amarantha’s reign I settled in this area of Autumn. 

Having not been to this home in two years it took a while to get it back into shape, cleaning and removing critters that have turned it into their home while I was gone. I have wind chimes and wards surrounding this home just like my other one, the difference here though is the Autumn wind is much more soothing for me then in any other court. It’s almost like my soul knows it's safe here. 

I have my wind playing soothing music with the small instruments placed around the open room. Candles lit and windows open for the utmost ambiance while I research different wind patterns.

I hear one of my chimes go off near the front door that catches my attention, I get up from the table and walk back to the door.  Frantic knocking is what I hear once I get to the door itself, I rip it open to see what is wrong. 

“Miss Wynnie!” with a sob, and I look down to see one of the kids I help take care of from the children’s shelter near my tree house. Little antlers poke through his red hair, and tears stream down his tanned face as he launches towards me. 

“Oatie what is the matter?” I say and crouch to his level. I put my hands on his shoulders to sooth him and look him in the eyes.

“Those mean guards are back at the shelter, they are demanding more money.” Oatie is a twelve year old boy who had to grow up quickly due to being an orphan partially under Beron’s rageful reign, but he was still a gentle soul. Things have started to get better slowly with the new High Lord, but it is a slow process when the court has so much hate built in. 

“Okay sweet boy, it’s going to be alright. Go curl up on the couch with a book and some tea and I will go take care of this okay?” I tell him with a soft voice. He nods and heads off that way. Once he is settled on the couch I fix my dress, and re-braid the two long braids under my bob and fly off the balcony.

When I arrive at the shelter there are two guards yelling at the volunteer on duty at the shelter. With a burst of wind I separate them from the worker, and land in front of them. I motion for the worker to go inside.

“What is the issue here?” I bark at them, their heated eyes turn to me.

“They owe us money for protection.” The one on the right says with a grunt.

“That’s your job. The High Lord literally pays you to protect the people. So that was the wrong answer, do me a favor and try again.” I say while rolling my eyes and shifting my weight to one hip. 

“You bitch.” One says and I let out a laugh with a clap of my hands. I know I probably shouldn’t egg them on but it’s so easy. As I am about to respond they both seem to stiffen and look behind me.

“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady.” I turn to face the new voice, which belongs to High Lord Eris, who recently has had his hair trimmed since the last time I saw him. 

“She is barely a lady, my lord.” One said with a snicker. I respond with a glare and a large gust of wind knocking them both over.

I turn to face Eris completely and give him a graceful curtsy grabbing the edges of my green dress. To which I receive a sucking of the teeth sound from him.

“Wynnie dear, stand up please. You don’t have to bow to me, we are old friends.” He says with a soft smile. The two guards seemed to have disappeared leaving the two of us alone. I straighten and glow a soft pink with a cheeky grin say,

“Yes, well, I have to show my respect My Lord.” He chuckles and makes a small lunge toward me, so I float backwards and he narrowly misses me. 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me sir.” He grunts a small breath and lunges towards me again. And I am suddenly reminded of when we were younger.

“Eris! Where are you?” I yell knowing he is hiding behind one of the trees with his hounds. 

“Got you!” I hear from behind me and feel my waist being pulled into someone's chest. I look up over my shoulder and see Eris with a wide grin. I pout at him. 

“That’s not fair.” I whine. “You know I am afraid of your pups, they think I am a big bird waiting to be hunted.”  He laughs in response. 

“I would never let them hurt you Wynnie Lara, I would never let anyone hurt you.” He said softly. “You are my only friend in this wretched court. I will burn it down to protect you.” 

“Eris that is sweet but, you are an heir would that not be counterproductive?” I ask teasingly but my skin glowing a bright warm orange with endearment. 

“Not for you Wynnie.” He says.

“I can’t stay in this area long, but I did want to invite you to dinner soon.”  He tells me when we both are sitting on the forest floor. Me on a rock with my wings glowing and him leaned up against it. My hands naturally find his hair and gently run my fingers through it. 

“I would love to.” I tell him, “I might visit the Night Court here soon.” I say with a whisper.

“Oh?” He asks me softly.

“Nyx is turning one and I miss the girls a little bit.” I responded.

“Yes, that's understandable. I still am beyond livid for how you were treated there.” He says back with a huff. And I laugh a little, “You and me both.” 

“I will have to send you with a gift, hmm?” He tells me. 

“That would be very kind of you, my lord.” And in response I get him standing up and pinching my sides. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” I say in between giggles. 

“Alright Wynn. I will send a letter for dinner when you return. Be safe and have a good night.” He tells me with a pat to the head and soft voice. 

a/n: soooooooooooo what do with think???

I am a sucker for soft Eris omggggg. Please if any questions please let me know!

I am trying the taglist I hope it works lmao

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor

[morganas-pendragons]

ease | celebrimbor

honest to god, I got this concept in the shower and it would not leave me alone. the prompt was found in the depths of the celebrimbor x reader tag (disclaimer: I am not a Tolkien reader, but I did grow up watching the movies and have done some research into the Silmarillion as I've been watching ROP) and this was born.

I've just found out some of the fates of these characters and I kid you not... I have a full fledged idea for a Celebrimbor/OC fic if my brain keeps this up

set during s2 of ROP, light spoilers ahead

prompt is here / this reader is a half-elven female who is gifted with magic. like I said, I am new to writing for this verse, so please be gentle.

***

You don't remember much about how you ended up in Middle Earth. There are glimpses, sweet fragments of memories that surface every now and again, but that is simply all they are. Glimpses of a time that has long come and gone.

Glimpses of who you were gone with it, like the receding tides of the ocean drifting further and further away.

The one thing you do remember with astounding clarity is your arrival to Eregion. You remember the front gates and how tired you were, and more importantly, you remember Celebrimbor. His complete and utter astonishment at your arrival was puzzling.

You didn't figure out why until later.

"Forgive me, but my healer tells me you have difficulties with remembering where you came from," He's standing in front of you where you sit in the healer's chambers of Eregion. You're surprised that they even let you in. Maybe he took pity on you. "Your injuries are minimal given how long he believes you were out in such conditions. Given your physical attributes, I would say you are at least Elvish. That would explain some of this. Do you remember your name?"

You didn't. The only things you had to remind you of who you were was the cloak around your shoulders and the circlet in your hair. A fine thing, crafted from what Celebrimbor later told you was pure silver.

"No...." You shake your head and wrap your arms tightly around yourself. He can't help but soften. You seem very lost. Celebrimbor is not one to take in lost souls, but there is something about you that draws in rapt fascination, and he is not willing to turn you away.

"You are no threat upon us. Now come. Let me introduce you to the great kingdom of the Elven smiths."

He extended his arm to you hesitantly. You found yourself taking it, staring up at him through a curious gaze as he dove into the histories of Eregion.

Weeks passed. You noticed the longer you were present in Eregion and in the forges that Celebrimbor was very particular about who was allowed to remain in his presence for long. There were his smiths, and his servants, but there were very few who were truly allowed to know him on a more intimate and vulnerable level.

You found yourself wondering why.

On a quieter day in Eregion's forges, you venture out of your room in search of Celebrimbor. Most of the staff is familiar with your presence by now. You've heard the whispers. They wonder how a forsaken Elf has managed to find her way into their King's good graces after such a short amount of time.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd arrive. Come. I have something to show you." Celebrimbor greeted. You followed him around the edge of the forge to a table in the center of the room where a familiar silver circlet sat. Your eyes widened. You had been wondering where it went. "I was given enough moonstone from a recent discovery to restore your circlet and add a singular gem to the center. What do you think?"

Again the eyes and ears are drawn to the pair of you. You can feel their questions burning through the air: Why her? Why is she in his good graces? What does a forsaken elf have to give to the Lord of Eregion and the Master Smith?

"Might we have a moment in private?" You ask. There is no hesitation in his response. Celebrimbor dismisses his smiths, and in mere minutes, the two of you are alone. He seems perfectly content to be with you where no other eyes can see. "I don't understand. We've only just met, and I don't even know who I am, but here you are reforging and creating something so beautiful for a stranger," You pick up the circlet with delicate fingers, turning it over to gaze at the gem in the center. It's a very delicate design that incorporates much of the Elvish culture within it. "Why?"

There's a beat of silence that you interpret as apprehension. Answering this question requires a certain sense of vulnerability that he so often shies away from.

What he does instead surprises you.

''Because," Celebrimbor's voice drops to a whisper as he settles the delicate circlet in your hair, and you can't help but smile at how gentle it is. "You are.. different."

That's all he leaves you with. You're left to wonder what about you is different. What about you puts him so at ease.

***

Celebrimbor had not told anyone outside of Galadriel, Elrond and The High King what was known of your origins. What little the two of you could come up with about them. All the five of you are aware of is that you hold a great power with magic that brings the skill of healing and persuasion of any life form, and that you fell to Middle Earth within its vast oceans and found yourself destitute mere miles away from Eregion.

"It's almost like your coming was a sign."

Your visions turn out to be correct, much to your horror.

After Gil-Galad and Elrond’s departure, you find yourself lingering in your chambers with your circlet poised in your hands as you internally fight through all the evidence you have lingering in your head. Celebrimbor doesn't know what to make of it, and neither do you.

That turns out not to be your concern once you see him trudging past your bedroom, muttering to himself in Sindarin as he attempts to massage his shoulder with his hand.

"Celebrimbor?" You call, mindful to call quietly so that his smiths and the staff do not hear you. He always hears you. Always has, always will. "Are you alright?"

His aspect says one thing, but his eyes say another. "There is always tension that builds within the muscles and tendons of the body after working vigorously in the forge. I am just stiff. It is not a concern you need to bother yourself with-"

You raise a brow at his veiled attempt to console you. It doesn't work. Glancing over your shoulder, you quickly follow on his heels to his chambers where you slip inside just before he can shut the door.

He freezes. The two of you are alone. Properly alone.

"This is quite.." You falter in search of the right word. "If anyone knew I was in here, it would arouse suspicion. I can tell you're in pain. We both know that you cannot alleviate that on your own." You pause to interject, "Only if you truly want the help. I would be happy to serve."

Realization dawns in his eyes. Neither of you are properly aware of how close you really are to each other, much less the fact that your hand is pressed against his heart. It flutters under your touch.

He's nervous.

Your creased brow softens when Celebrimbor winces again at the turn of his head, and your eyes focus on his neck. "I am in a great amount of pain," He confesses quietly. It's quite a feat for him to be so willing to be vulnerable with you. Especially when you have yet to see him ask for help from anyone else, including Galadriel or Gil-Galad. "And I would be much appreciative of the help."

Celebrimbor would never admit it out loud, but something swelled within him at the sight of your smile as you rushed back to your chambers to gather the oils you had stored there. He had come to care for you a great deal. That was dangerous. There was too much at stake with his House and his past... A past that he would rather never speak aloud for fear of having to truly relive it.

"You'd be more at least if you lie down," You remark softly, laughing as his eyes snap open in alarm. "The oils only work with skin contact. Are you okay with that?"

It takes him a moment to realize what you're doing: You're both asking for his consent, and you're giving him the opportunity to say no. It's just another thing that draws him to you.

You turn away to grant Celebrimbor a modicum of privacy while you prepare yourself and the oils you brought. By the time you turn around, you nearly drop the vials. You should have assumed he'd have scars. That there would be old burns and far more muscle that he could hide under those robes.

The only piece of clothing he was wearing covered very little.

"Celebrimbor," You whisper. He cannot help the shiver that runs down his body when your fingers come into contact with his spine. It has been centuries since he had last allowed himself to be touched, and to be touched in such an intimate and positive way was foreign. "Are you in pain?"

You already know the answer to this question. He lays down on the bed and tucks his hands under his forehead. There's several moments of silence that pass before you hear him murmur, "I have been in pain for quite a long time, nin tinu. There has only been one thing that alleviates it."

The Sindarin that rolls off his tongue rings clear in your head. My star.

"What eases your pain, My Lord?"

Your oiled fingertips, doused in lavender oil, have just made contact with his shoulders when he answers: "You. It has been you from the moment you entered my gates, and it will be you for however long you remain here, if you wish to remain here in Eregion with me."

You mull over his words as your fingers travel his skin. You mark your touch with firm yet gentle presses against the valleys of his back, dragging your fingers across raised scars that arouse much curiosity within you. Celebrimbor melts into the bed beneath you as he allows himself to absorb a touch he had not realized he craved so deeply for an entire lifetime.

"You have introduced me to such a peace since I have been here. A peace that comes from being in the presence of people who truly care about you, of people who truly want the best for you. That's why you have not told anyone of my heritage. That is why you keep me so close to your side. To protect me.” Your ministrations have had their desired effect, because the moment you dig your fingers into where he'd been trying to massage earlier, it elicits a low groan from his chest. "Never has this destitute elf felt such peace as I have learning and living with and from you. I would be honored and privileged to remain in Eregion."

He's thankful in that moment that his face is hidden. Celebrimbor grimaces as tears prick the back of his eyes, blurring the sight of the blankets beneath him. He'd never experienced something as trivial as being loved in such a gentle, genuine manner.

"Dorth... nev na nin."

Again it rang clear as day. You were realizing the longer that Celebrimbor spoke in the Sindarin tongue that you were most definitely familiar with it.

He's asking you to stay with him. Permanently.

"Roll onto your back," You whisper. He complies with ease, showing you a stunning shade of hazel in the eyes that look back at you. "I-"

It's right there on the tip of your tongue as fingers stained with lavender oil linger right at the hair on his temples. You know you have been drawn to him since you arrived. It's not the hesitation in confession, it's in his response.

His lips part of their own accord as you bend your head to press your forehead against his own. You both want to kiss the other, and badly, but this act alone is intimate enough. It is too soon.

"Don't say it. Not yet." His breath fans over your face as he shudders, eyes flickering upward to meet yours through the hair that veils your face. "Just let me..."

Celebrimbor parts your hair to tuck it behind your ear and lifts his head just enough to graze his lips against your cheek. It's barely a kiss, more the ghost of a kiss then anything, but the way it puts your body at such ease speaks more then a real kiss could've.

His heart is pounding when he meets your eyes.

You're laughing when you part. He doesn't know why. What Celebrimbor does know is that the stiffness in his muscles is gone, replaced by an inexplicable warmth he's never quite felt before.

The shade of your eyes has been illuminated by a silver the same color of the jewel in your circlet, which is now glowing from where it sits upon your head.

He'll have to question that later.

"Why are you laughing? It's quite inappropriate to laugh in such a circumstance-"

You press your fingers to his lips. Celebrimbor is blushing so hard you're sure that his cheeks will stay that color for the rest of the night.

"If you wanted to get unclothed in front of me to have me touch you, all you had to do was ask."

[mournings-stars]

What's ur take on vox aftercare imagines? :3

tell me why i was so in love with this ask, wrote a whole fic and literally forgot to post it omg ANYWAY i love vox with aftercare cus that television does NOT know what he’s doing

yes he’s used to having to reign in val but convincing someone to not be criminally insane and telling someone they did a good job is a tad bit different yk (LMAO)

i doubt he’s ever actually received aftercare or given it before getting into an actual relation(situation)ship so he fumbles with it at first

he’d definitely get the hang of it tho! like i think in private he’s a very doting s/o (in his own way) like he gives you the princess treatment all day every day (as long as no one else is there to see it)

so i think despite that he kinda lacks in the aftercare department cus he literally doesn’t know it exists until you try to initiate it

anyway for this lil blurb my idea was that reader and vox have been hooking up for a while and have gotten closer (it’s not like vox would let just anyone sleep in his bed) so here u go

Vox would really try to give aftercare. Every time since you started spending the night, he’d clean you up and change the sheets. He’d get you something to wear before he took care of himself, and made sure you had anything you could physically need, but that was it. He wasn’t good at the rest of it. He didn’t think to get you tea (especially because he didn’t even like “leaf water”) or a warm blanket, he didn’t think to tell you how he was feeling or how well you did, and he certainly didn't tell you if he needed anything.

No one, before you, had ever even introduced the idea of aftercare. There was a night where you sleepily told him how well he did, and he told you to “go to sleep if you want to stay here tonight,” but you said, “I have to make sure you’re alright first,” like he was ridiculous, laughing as you kissed his shoulder.

“Of course I’m alright… Are you?” He asked awkwardly, thinking you were trying to hint that he’d done something wrong, maybe hurt you.

“Mhm. Just cold.”

“Then… use your blanket?” He pulled his sheets over you as you groaned, shaking your head at him. “What?”

“Nothing… Nothing.” You tucked the blankets over you, turning away from him as you shut your eyes. “Night.”

And it took him hours to fall asleep. Not only was he utterly confused by you, but he had a very needy feeling in his chest. He had half a mind to check and see if he was hard again, because he certainly didn’t feel it, but that was the only thing that made sense.

That is, until he looked at you, tucked into your blankets and finding himself thinking he would be much warmer than some stupid blanket. Why the fuck were you holding on to a blanket and not him—?

And then he had to pause and collect himself because who the fuck gets jealous over a blanket…?

He gently and reluctantly woke you up, feeling bad for it when he watched you blink your eyes open groggily. He came up with something arbitrary, “you’re pushing me off the bed, pretty.”

“Mmm, sorry,” you mumbled and scooted over. He took the opportunity to scoot closer, gently grabbing your waist to pull you against him. You turned toward him, assuming he wanted something else and sleepily bringing your mouth to his neck.

“As much as I like ‘sleepy sex’,” as you called it, “with you, I just want to — hold you.” You didn’t miss the way his screen glitched when he spoke, and he didn’t miss the smile that came to your face before you went back to sleep.

But of course all the niceties were gone the next day when you left before he woke up, which you always did because that was the agreement you had — but surely that didn’t mean things had to be the same in the bedroom.

So he started researching and apparently, “why the fuck is my… partner… being so nice after sex?” Was a commonly searched question in Hell, as it populated almost immediately after he typed “why.”

That led him to trying, really trying, to give aftercare. The first time, you were shocked, telling him you’d clean up, but he insisted and you relented. You let him do what he wanted, thinking he might just be in a mood, but when he very awkwardly asked if you were alright, you realized what he was doing.

“Why don’t I make us tea?” You suggested, getting up from his bed after he’d given you something to wear. “Is that alright? Or, do you want me to keep you company?”

You were much more attentive, and you always knew what to say. That alone made an error appear on his screen, but you didn’t joke or say anything about it. “That’s fine,” he finally brought himself to say.

“Alright. Be right back.” You gave him a smile, gently squeezing his hand as you passed him by and went to the kitchen.

He wanted to tell you to be quick, as he suddenly felt very lonely when he lost the feeling of your hands on him, but he stopped himself.

As if you read his mind, you came back very quickly, also bringing a bowl of fruit with you (and hot water with lemon and honey for him because, again, leaf water). “Blood sugar,” you said, making him laugh.

“So, you like to eat after…?” He concluded, because “blood sugar” was certainly not a valid justification in Hell. You nodded and he did the same in return. “What else?”

“What else, what?” You asked as you sat next to him in bed after setting the tea and fruit on his nightstand, tucking your legs beneath the covers.

“What else do you like… after?”

This time, you didn’t ignore the error screen, taking it as him pushing for too much. “Don’t worry about that — it’s more about what you need… Like, you like to cuddle,” his screen glitched as he cleared his throat, “because you need a little bit of comfort. I don’t need much; maybe, just, something to wear and sleep — but I’d rather not sleep alone.” He nodded along. “I’ll get everything I like; tea, fruit, whatever.” You gave him a very sweet smile, but he understood you were telling him to not ask any more about what you liked — or, he thought he understood that you didn’t want to get personal. “What do you like?” Then you caught him off guard.

No one had ever prioritized what he liked — or, rather, needed after sex before now, and he certainly never wanted to tell anyone. Who knows how they’d use it against him? But you… you just felt genuine.

[weenwrites]

hiiiii! I was hoping you could do headcanons for the decepticons (any of your choice) and how they would react to finding out that a young human has somehow got onto the nemesis (nobody knows how and nobody ever will🥸) and started causing trouble, like stealing stuff for their little hoard and drawing on the walls. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, but I hope you do 😊

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]:

Soundwave

As the "eyes and ears" of the Decepticons, almost nothing escapes his watchful gaze, save for you. He doesn't know how you've managed it, but you've gone ahead and made yourself a cosy little home somewhere within the confines of the ventilation system and even mocked him with these nonsensical scribbles on the walls.

He doesn't miss the way vehicons poke fun at him now that a pesky little human has somehow slipped his watch, and though you prove no serious threat to them, even Megatron finds himself a tad disappointed with the blatant deterioration in Soundwave's skills. First a human, then what? Are they going to start missing Autobot intruders stalking the halls?

Soundwave resolves to handle this himself, as now he has a personal vendetta to deal with on top of proving himself still worthy of his position to his lord and master.

Megatron

He's found humans to be quite the interesting bunch, a true mixed bag. On one hand those pests that the Autobots risk their lives to protect have been one of the biggest pains to the Decepticons, but on the other hand, CYLAS wasn't all that impressive once he ran out of assets to use. Yet you've proven yourself to be resourceful, relying only on your own skills to evade the watchful eye of one of the most skilled members of the Decepticons.

Were you on the Autobot side, you could've proven to be a concerning inside-threat, and that's where it hits him. Weaponizing a human in a more under-handed manner is something the Decepticons haven't tried yet. He issues word to the entire Nemesis to capture you upon sight, yet he's not exacting holding out hope that no one's killed you yet, nor is this idea of his worth getting too excited for.

Shockwave

You may have gotten a little too cocky. Shockwave may lose himself to his research and projects at times, but the moment he's aware of his surroundings it doesn't take long for him to pinpoint what's out of place. One of his rotary carvers are missing, one of the vent covers are missing a few screws, and that drawing on the inside of one of the table's legs isn't as discreet as you'd think.

It's clear there's a pest running amok. Nothing worth reporting to Megatron, and nothing to linger over for too long. He simply rigs one of his tools with a rudimentary trap, not his best work but it's not as if you're worth anything fancy. He leaves it out and walks away without sparing it another thought.

You were none the wiser and practically fell straight for it. It looked unassuming too, it looked as if it had fallen off the edge of the table and he had forgotten about it, so no one could really blame you. But the moment the trap was sprung, your limbs were bound yet no one came.

The other Decepticons know better than to poke and prod around in Shockwave's laboratory, or anywhere he turns into his general working area. And Shockwave was either busy with a long-term project that would take days to complete, or just knew to spend his time on more productive pursuits than checking the trap every now and then. Either way, it took around 2 days before Shockwave came to check on his trap.

Even upon seeing that he caught something, he paid you little mind, let alone acknowledged you in the slightest. He simply shoved you into the hands of some vehicon and asked them to "dispose of the waste in the incinerator".

[melancholiaincarnate]

yours, now and forever

a regency era kento nanami longfic

「 in which ᵎᵎ 」 kento nanami is a fool with his words, and you can't seem to get on his good side.

「 words ᵎᵎ 」 many. (12k)

「 author's note ᵎᵎ 」 wow okay, so. this is my baby. it has gone through many versions, many rewrites, and now it's moved blogs with me. if you know my old blog, you know what fic this used to be, and i felt as if it were wasted on that fandom. without that fandom though, i wouldn't have found my closest friend and idea gremlin, @zooone. thank u to my zone. thank u to my proofreader @egglain who took the time to research my historical inaccuracies and then deal with me even as i proceeded to ignore them. anyways, heed warnings etc etc, this is NOT historically accurate, nor is it very good, but i love it. if the people demand, there will be little drabbles about their lives bcus i am not ready to give up regency!nanami just yet :DDD

「 tags n warnings ᵎᵎ 」 no smut deal with it, lottts of angst, major character death, historical inaccuracy, satoru gojo being a little bitch, satoru gojo matchmaker arc, kento nanami is a little ooc, everyone is a little ooc, nanami somehow became choso and yuji's guardian??? choso uses itadori last name, yuko ozawa mention?!, lots of angst, reader is a bitch if you squint, pining!!, bridgerton/pride and prejudice inspired :D

it’s beautiful this time of year. you’ve always loved the springtime, not only because of the warmer air and the fresh scent of flowers, but because it meant you were traveling up to the ton. 

the ton was one of your favorite places, if not favorite, to ever be. as much as you loved your father’s estate in the countryside– complete with its own stables, riding grounds, and grandoise library– nothing compared to stepping outside the door of the town manor stepping outside the door of the town manor to the bustling carriages and people laughing in the streets. the feeling of the sun shining down on you and casting gorgeous shadows of the leaves was incomparable.

springtime was the social season - when every family who meant something in society flocked from their vast country homes to the smaller, (yet just as grand), manors that lined the streets of london. 

social season also meant that you would see friends and family that you barely saw otherwise. each year, as your carriage pulled up to the manor, you could see the figure of your favorite younger cousin. even from quite a bit away, your excitement was infectious and you could feel it bubbling in your own body. 

this year was no different. as soon as the carriage pulled to a stop, you were bounding out, (nearly tripping on loose pathing), and bombarding your cousin with a tight embrace. 

“oh nobara,” you exclaimed, leaning into your cousin, “it’s been so long. my god, you cut your hair!” your mouth widens in surprise as you bring a hand to twirl the ends of your cousin’s hair. A

“over the winter i have discovered an affection for shorter hair. i saw a girl with it in a town i visited and i decided i must attempt it for myself.” nobara beams, “it looks gorgeous on me, does it not? i am sure to capture attention!” 

there was a glint of anticipation beyond measure in nobara’s eyes. this year, nobara would be making her debut at the first ball of the season, where she and other debuting ladies would announce themselves as open candidates for matrimony. 

the tradition was as follows: each lady, upon turning eighteen years, would make their entrance into society, and find themselves a husband. it would be done so via a series of balls, in which the ladies would dance with men who approached them, and be courted by men for four months before they were offered a hand in marriage. nobara, being from japan and having to find a companion to travel to london with, would be debuting herself a little later - at her current stature of one and twenty.

according to nobara, she had spent the entirety of last year taking notes and writing down tips from older ladies in a small pink journal - all so that she would find a perfect match in her first year. she was entirely too determined, you thought.

most ladies, if not all, find their match in their first season. there were some unlucky ones who took two, and even three. they were generally looked down upon by society, and nobara would be damned if she didn't get her husband her first go-round the ton.

you, on the other hand, were completely comfortable without a husband. you found the whole courting process tedious, and thought it a waste of time to spend hours at tea parties and balls flaunting off to men who simply see you as nothing but a warm bed to come home to at night. unfortunately, this would be your last year of freedom, so to speak. ladies around the ton were beginning to imply, (more like shove in your face), that you needed to be married soon, as it was quote unquote improper for a lady approaching five and twenty to be unmarried. 

you took pride in your family, especially your father, and if he were to somehow lose out on business prospects or be shunned from society simply because you did not fancy any man in london, you would feel most guiltily. he had done nothing but provide for you; how awful it would be to outcast one’s own family for lack of a suitable marriage. 

“cousin?” nobara cocks her head to catch the eldest’s attention, “you are always so far away, even when you are standing right in front of me. please, cousin, enlighten me. what is on your mind that has you so troubled?”

you simply smiled and shook your head. “i am only mentally grieving the loss of my freedom, nobara, and nothing more. you know i am not as eager as you are to be wed, and yet, the general populace are starting to talk. as much as i may protest, i fear that within the next two seasons– nay, one– i must procure myself a match.” you sighed, lacing your arm within your cousin’s as the two ladies entered the manor. 

they enter the drawing room and the scent of fresh flowers wafted in the air, a vase full of fresh lilies on the table by the door. the drawing room had alabaster walls, green accents, and was complete with gorgeous chestnut furniture commissioned by your father from a local carpenter after your mother had mentioned an affinity for the look of chestnut. the tables were recently polished, and sat right in the middle of a small side table were scones and tea.

“oh cousin, you are always so dreary!” nobara sighs, having a seat on the sofa. “pass me a scone, will you? i am starved.” upon your completion of nobara’s request, you sat down at your own small table, where your father had left a newly bound journal for you - complete with a small sprig of baby’s breath tucked in between the pages as a marker. 

although your father was often physically absent due to business travels, he was certainly not emotionally absent. he made sure that his daughter, no matter your age, was properly taken care of and had everything a young lady could possibly ever ask for. 

you didn’t mind his frequent absences though. you enjoyed your own company, and had no problem finding things to busy yourself what with your insatiable curiosity. you’d beguan reading more intensive books at ten, playing the pianoforte at twelve, and sewing at fourteen, though you’d stopped once you began pricking yourself too often. recently, you had picked up drawing, and you wanted to head to the markets sooner rather than later to pick up a brand new journal and some charcoal pencils.

tuning nobara’s drawls about the season out, you spoke. “nobara,” you asked, twirling the baby’s breath around in your fingers, “i am going to take to the markets if you would like to join. you would be agreeable company.”

“sounds wonderful!” nobara beamed, standing up quickly, “i need to pick up some new ribbons anyhow, the first ball is only a mere three nights a ways. i must begin preparations!”

upon hearing your cousin bring up the ball yet again, you could not help yourself as laughter bubbled out of your throat. you shook your head, grabbing a small shawl and wrapping it around your shoulders, before setting out the door to the market, nobara in tow. 

the market was an average place. everywhere you looked were small shops lit by candlelight and newsboys trying to hustle a pound or two by selling the latest society papers.

there were, of course, girls –-- with their corsets tied a little too tight and their legs crossed gracefully as they sat on park benches underneath lacy umbrellas. with girls, came men, who were seeking to start the season early as they paraded downthe side walks with an air of pompous grace, their eyes manically searching for the girl they were to court.  

“humourless morons in my opinion,” you scoffed as you watched a man procure a smushed flower from the back of his pocket and present it to a lady - the same man who, moments earlier, you’d watched do the same to another, only to be rejected. “not an ounce of shame behind their actions. it is honestly a mystery to me how they manage to get away with such behavior. do women not see? or do they choose not to see simply because they are deluded with silly fantasies of marriage?” 

“you need to watch your tongue, cousin,” nobara teased, her eyes also wandering and scouting for a possible match, “for one day, one of these morons will catch your eye.”

“in some other world, yes,” you laughed, shaking your head, “but in this one, i have yet to find one man who possesses the ability to be both aware of himself, and of the world, and i doubt i ever will. london is full of nothing but raffish rakes.”

after mingling amongst the patrons for an hour or two, the girls return home. nobara’s hands are filled with pretty ribbons and hair pins, while your hands are quite empty - save for a journal and a pair of charcoal pencils. 

as soon as you arrive back at the manor, you bid goodnight to your cousin as night has settled its way into your bones. you hadn’t slept in your room at the ton manor in almost a year, and so the minute your skin feels the soft silk of the sheets and the pillow that has been kept well fluffed, sleep weighs your body down. 

the next three days go about the same. you spend ample time in the drawing room with nobara, occasionally making a journey to the park to people-watch and draw while nobara converses.

you’re sitting in the park, your charcoal pencil composing a beautiful illustration of the landscapeand its nature. nobara is sitting next to you, a cross-stitch project in your hands when a girl runs up to them, one you both recognize, and the girl looks quite roused.

“you will never guess who is slated to visit.” the girl, a longtime friend of yours named yuko ozawa, is laughing. “the itadori’s and their guardian, kento nanami! they have not been back to london in ages! and,” her voice drops, as she looks around to see if anyone is listening, “rumor has it - the two eldest, yuuji and choso, are looking for wives. oh! and how could i forget! they are hosting a friend for the season. there are varying reports - some say it is lady ieiri shoko, but most believe it is lord satoru gojo, and my, he is wealthy.” she giggles, “i do not want after the wealth though. i have heard that the youngest itadori, yuuji, i believe, is around my age and is quite handsome.” she smiles, mischief dancing in her eyes, “hopefully, they attend the ball. oh! i must go home and start preparing. i do hope to see you there tonight?”

“we will be in attendance,” nobara confirms with a soft look and somehow, yuko’s smile brightens. 

“magnificent!” she laughs, “i will see you there! best of luck to you nobara, and you,” yuko turns to you, “i will not wish luck for, as i know you will not be courting.”

“i am glad you know me so well, friend.” you smile, and yuko laughs. 

“right, well. i shall see you two later.” yuko bids her farewells, and nobara turns to you, eyes dancing just as brightly as– if not more than– yuko’s.

“did you hear that, cousin?” her voice is filled with titillation and glee, “the itadoris, and their friends too! i am sorry to interrupt your art, but we must go and dress! one of us,” she smiles knowingly at her cousin, “might catch the eldest or,” mischief sparkles in your eye, “lord gojo’s attention.”

“and it will be you, dearest nobara. once they lay eyes upon you, they will be smitten for the rest of their lives.” you shut your book carefully, tucking the charcoal pencil behind your ear as you stand.

nobara does the same, dusting the dirt off of her dress as the two of you grasp arms and walk back home.

as soon as you arrive, nobara is sent into a frenzy. questions like, “should i wear this dress?” or “which pendant matches better?” are echoed down the long halls of the manor, making their way to your ears.

you’ve already picked out a dress, and compared to the dresses other girls will be wearing tonight, it’s rather, well, plain. a pale pink base with barely visible white lace decorating the front, and a white ribbon tied round your waist. your hair is tied into a neat bun, with your neck and face accentuated with a matching pearl necklace and set of earrings. after almost six seasons of watching, you know your ensemble will attract the least attention, and allow you to stay in the shadows as you please. you’re content with your look, and that is all that matters to you. 

nobara, of course, the very meaning of elegance, was dressed beautifully. her jewelry was polished perfectly and light bounced off of it like a mirror, while her dress was a gorgeous deep blue that made her face pop.

the ball was not short of ladies dressed similar to nobara - their faces shining with bright smiles as they fanned themselves lightly. it was the beginning of spring, after all, and the weather was beginning to heat up slightly.  people danced in the middle, soft giggles from girls wafting through the air. it was the first ball of the season - girls needed to make an impression. 

you watched from the sidelines, carefully cradling a small cup of champagne, until suddenly, the entire room went silent. it was odd - never in your life had you’d heard a room so silent, especially one that was just bouncing with life only moments prior. 

you saw the crowd parting for a group of people, and though you couldn't see all of them, you saw one particularly tall male. you craned your neck to get a look at the rest, and their prestige only clicked when they were announced to everyone.

“lord choso kamo,” the steward of the household pointed to a raven-haired boy with a frown, “lord. yuuji itadori, ” a fair-skinned, pink-haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “lord kento nanami,” he was rather stoic and tall with gorgeous blonde hair,  “and lord satoru gojo.” a couple inches taller than kento, he had a prideful sort of look about him - one that caught the attention of every lady in the room.

as soon as the announcement of their arrival finished, the ball was back into full swing, with girls being twirled and spun around, and laughter dancing through the air. the small group of four separated, with the two younger men immediately finding themselves dance partners, and satoru entertaining himself with the women that flocked to him. his blonde friend seems to have his own fair share of admirers, but for some odd reason or another, he is ignoring them. 

it was the eldest of the group though, that tall blonde one, that caught your attention. you cannot decide whether it’s his handsomeness, or if it’s the displeased look on his face, but something about him makes you peel yourself off the wall and out of the shadows.

 for the first time in your life, a man has intrigued you.

people are bumping into you, but you weave yourself right through expertly. right as you reach the two men though, a drunken man pushes you, and you trip over your own feet. fortunately, there’s a pair of strong arms that wrap around your waist, preventing your fall.

“are you alright?” the voice is hiding its laughter, and you look up to find a quirky smile paired with a the most crystal blue eyes. “i must say, you would have taken a rather nasty fall if i were not there to catch you.” he helps you regain your footing, and as soon as you recognize him, you bow.

“lord gojo.” you murmur, downcasting your eyes towards his unnaturally shiny boots. “my apologies, sir.”

“no need for such formalities.” the man laughs as you raise your head back up to meet his eyes. “it was simply a mistake. drunken men, yes?”

“oh, nothing unusual.” you titter, “take a walk around the town at night, and i bet you would be penniless if you had to give me a dollar for every drunken man you saw. it does not take away from the charm though, oh not at all,  especially with the way the pond in the park glitters at night.” your eyes sparkle with a certain fondness that does not simply pass the man behind satoru. kento’s fist clenches at his side, and he takes a breath, his stoic demeanor returning instantly. 

“you speak of the town as if you have grown up here. am i correct in my assumptions, miss?” satoru’s voice is enchanting and it’s obvious his friend is hanging on your every word. his mouth parts slightly as if he were to speak but you begin talking again and he shuts his mouth obediently. 

“you would be partially correct. i spend my warmer seasons here, and the colder ones on my father’s estate not too far from here. i do consider this my home though.” memories of you underneath your father’s arms as you strolled around the town come flooding back to you, and your heart fills with warmth. 

satoru is quiet for a moment. as he goes to speak, a new song begins, and he looks at you sheepishly. kento’s fist clenches at his side. “forgive me if i am too forward, but would you like to dance? i may not be the best but you draw my curiosity.” 

you duck your head with a smile, and bow, “of course, my lord.” 

as the two of you take hands and begin waltzing around the room, you lock eyes with satoru’s companion. he  has his head cocked and is looking at you with a look you cannot place, but that you assume is nothing other than pure curiosity. his hands are crossed against his chest, and he is still blatantly ignoring any women that come to his attention. you decide then that you must ask him for a dance. your curiosity is insatiable.

the dance comes to an end, and with a reddened face, satoru gives you a bow. “i do hope to dance with you at least once more before the night ends, if you are not opposed of course.” his eyes are sparkling and you think to yourself that he is quite handsome.

“i am not opposed, my lord. come find me whenever you see fit.” with that, you bow, give a heart-melting smile, and find your way through the crowd towards the itadoris’ guardian.

he seems shocked–, no, confused–, as to why you’re approaching him. “lord. nanami.” you curtsy. you receive no greeting back– - not even an acknowledgement of your presence. he simply stares down at you with blank, cold eyes, the complete opposite of satoru’s. “i just had the pleasure of dancing with your companion. he is a wonderful dancer, i must say. do you dance, mr. nanami?” 

“no.” 

“oh. i see. is there a particular reason?” your hands have come to play with the pearls on your neck, a nervous tick of yours. it’s becoming awkward to keep standing here while this man blatantly ignores you.

“because i do not.” his voice is stern, and finally, he makes eye contact with you. “i do not dance, and if i did, i would not dance with you.” his words are harsh, and you cannot help the sneer that graces your lips.

“such pleasant words.” you retort with a bite, “it clearly appears you enjoy your solitude, so i will leave you be. good day.” you huff, your pride wounded. kento, on the other hand, takes a step to follow you, but then returns back to his post, watching your figure practically stomp away from him. you berate yourself for even thinking about dancing with him while similarly, he berates himself for his sharp tongue. 

you stand off to the side, fuming, as nobara gracefully steps beside you. “you danced with lord satoru, cousin, so why do you seem so down?”

“his companion,” you shoot a glare at kento, the ice in your eyes fading to confusion as you realize he was already staring at you, “is an impolite arse with no home training. i do not care how much wealth he boasts for it means nothing if he is rude to every person he comes across. for heaven’s sake, nobara, he didn’t even look at me for half of our short-lived conversation!” you are vexed, and as kento watches you recount the tale to your cousin from across the room, he cannot help but feel slightly remorseful for his actions. 

the guilt rises to his throat and nearly chokes him to death once he sees your rant interrupted by none otherthan satoru gojo. he feels ill, he thinks, as he watches your scowl lift into a smile at the sight of his friend, and his friend’s equally bright smile as he takes your hand and youproceed to the dancefloor. 

kento turns away, clenching his fist at his sides, and instead decides to take a walk around the grounds and sulk in the byproduct of his social ineptitude.

“miss,” satoru asks you as the dance ends, “i was wondering if you would be home tomorrow, so i may call on you. our dances this evening were wonderful, and i would be most grateful to get to know you more. of course, it is your decision. if you do not want to see me, i shall oblige.” he gives you a smile, and suddenly, the idea of marriage does not sound too horrible to you. not if it is him, at least. 

“do not sell yourself short! i would be nothing but honored to receive you at my home.” your features soften. “it would be my pleasure, truly.”

“magnificent!” satoru laughs, his chest bursting at the prospect of getting to know you more. “i shall see you tomorrow, then?” 

“tomorrow, my lord.” you bow, and he shakes his head.

“please, miss, the formalities are not necessary.” he reminds you as you both approach nobara, where you are waiting by the carriage. “miss.” he gives nobara a bow, which you return, and then he stands regally again in front of you. “it was a pleasure getting to know you today. i look forwards to our visit.”

his excitement was unmatched. the next morning, as soon as the clock hit a decent visiting hour, his presence was announced at your manor. 

he looked nervous, almost, but his look of anxiety was quickly swept away by a bright smile. “miss.” he bowed, “i am here, as promised. thank you again for having me. it was wonderful to meet you last night.” nobara gave a small knowing look to her cousin, and then promptly escorted herself out of the room.

nobara would only be gone from the room for a mere few hours– - as satoru had said, he had business to attend to. he did not leave without extending a dinner invitation for that evening, inviting them both to the itadori’s’ manor.

you accepted with a bright smile and a curtsy, but the minute you heard his carriage begin its venture down the road, you groaned loudly.

“i cannot– - he is– - i cannot.” you tried to gather your words, but couldn’t. “i do not think i will be able to sit at a dinner with kento nanami and not watch my tongue. he is … there are no words to describe him. oh, this is going to go horribly. absolutely terribly, nobara.”

“tell me, why do you care if it goes horribly?” nobara asks, not looking up from her cross-stitching. “i thought you were not looking to marry this season.” there’s a teasing lilt behind the words, and it makes you roll your eyes in displeasure.

“you are so attentive, nobara.” you sigh, fiddling with a pillow on the couch. “i … i am not enthused by the idea… but i am not completely… opposed to it.” you know you’re lying to yourself and your cousin– - you’ve always been severely opposed to marriage, but there was something so captivating and appealing about lord gojo that made you even the slightest bit open to the idea. 

“falsehoods.” nobara scoffs. “you have said since we were little that you hate marriage! just admit it,” nobara simpers, “you have grown affections for satoru! and after only one dance, my god! if i had known it was that easy, i would have set you up to dance ages ago!” 

“i have not,.” you huff, giving nobara a pointed look. “who is to say that i am not just utilizing the man and his wealth for a nice dinner? i am positive the food tonight will be like nothing either of us have ever had, and a singular dinner will not guarantee his affections for me. i am sure he will not offer his hand in marriage immediately.” 

“you speak so lowly of men, my dear cousin. they are but fragile and sensitive creatures, and they fall hard.” nobara tuts, finally putting down her cross stitch to look at you. “you are playing a dangerous game and i do hope you will know when to end it.” she sighs, “i only wish for your happiness, but not at the expense of others, and especially not one as sweet as lord gojo. please do keep that in mind.” with that, nobara leaves. 

as the clock ticks on, and time moves closer and closer to the hour when you are supposed to arrive, your anxieties grow. nobara was right - you are walking a thin line, and could hurt a good man in the process, but your heart just isn't in it the way you think it's supposed to be.

you watch the townsfolk through the carriage window as you think. people have always described love to be this beautiful thing. your own father would tell stories about how he felt like he could not breathe when he was around your mother. you were only so averse to love because of the way your father described it– - overwhelming and smothering. your father would say that he felt like he was being strangulated every time he was apart from your mother, and the thought of that just was not appealing to you. you wanted to be your own person, not bound to a singular person for a source of air, and especially not bound to a pompous, arrogant man.

the books, though…, they described love as some fragile glass knickknack that needed to be cradled gently or else it would crack. 

you did not want love if it was similar to asphyxiation and you did not want love if it was delicate and dainty. you wanted a love that you did not have to stifle yourself for, and you were positive you would never find it. everyone fell hard and fast– - but you thought love at first sight was ridiculous. how were you supposed to decide based on one look– - one dance–, that this was your life partner?

nobara, of course, knew all of this. she was not lying when she said she wanted the best for her cousin and whether or not that was marriage was up to you. nobara could sense the yearning though. she could see the lingering glances at happier couples and the hesitance behind every step you took away from men who approached you. she has taken peeks at the novels her cousin picks up from the market– - all romance novels. she knew her cousin wanted nothing more than to love and to be in love, but she also knew her cousin was a stubborn woman and would not settle for anything less than exactly what she wanted.

you spoke of an ache in your chest to nobara often. you both attributed it to the loss of your mother, but the stars knew better. the hole in your heart was an ache for love– - pure, genuine love–, and whether or not you liked it, the stars would deliver it to you in the form of one kento nanami. 

your attention focused from your wandering thoughts to three figures standing by the entrance to the itadori manor. lord gojo, with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, and the two itadori’s at each side.

“you made it!” satoru is at the carriage door immediately, helping nobara out gently, and then you. “you look wonderful, i am so happy you are here. it is not my home, of course my home is a day's journey away, but the itadori’s are lovely hosts!” he smiles, his enthusiasm palpable and his love for the itadori’s clear. 

it's endearing to you, and you find a small smile creeping itsit's way up your face. “the manor looks lovely so far, my l-satoru.” you stop yourself, remembering the man’s wishes from the night before.

“i am unsure if you were properly introduced to the itadoris.” he leads you gently to the boys, who are making conversation with nobara, “this is yuuji,” he points to the boy with pink hair, “and this is choso.”

yuuji shakes his head, and then glances at his hand. “i hope… i hope you enjoy your day at our manor.” he smiles brightly, putting his hand down quickly. in a flash, you could see words were written on his hand and you suppress a giggle.

“our guardian, kento,” the thought of that man makes your chest tighten with upset, “is in the study. he says that he hopes you and your cousin enjoy the grounds and he will try his best to be present at dinner.” choso’s voice is bland.

“but if you ask me, he will not be there. he never is.” yuuji huffs, turning his back to the group. “i will be in the parlor with the piano, if you will excuse me.” 

“excuse him,” satoru laughs awkwardly, “the boy has got a bit of a temper.” 

just like his guardian, you think.

“would you like a tour?” choso asks softly, saddling up to your side. “i do not mind showing you around, i actually quite like this manor compared to our other one. it has more life in it.”

“i feel the same way about my manor.” you give him a soft smile, “i would love a tour, choso. satoru, choso is going to give me a tour around the grounds if you do not mind.”

“no, of course not!” satoru grins, “i had some work to finish before dinner any way, i was hoping the boys would entertain the two of you. i am sorry, i invited you over too early,.” he gives you a bow, “but i swear to you i will be right by your side at dinner. you have my word.”

“i trust you.” your eyes soften and you feel a sense of warmth wash over you at his promises. there has never been a man so thoughtful towards you, and yet, nobara’s words ring in your head.

you walk through the halls with choso as he shows off his art collections that hang on the wall. the boy has an affinity for art, you find out. at some point, they come across yuuji playing the piano rather beautifully in the parlor, and nobara disbands from the tour to go listen to yuuji playing. eventually, you find yourself at the library with choso. it is a tall room in the middle of the manor, with books lining every corner of the room. some old, some new, and others clearly loved. at one end, a window covers the entire wall, looking out onto the gardens. 

“kento's collection.” choso says with a smile, “he has been collecting since …” he trails off, “since he was a boy.”

“it’s beautiful.” you murmur. it’s true. in the spaces where there are not books, there are beautiful paintings, depicting nature at its finest. landscapes with flowers, oceans with boats floating atop them, and in the middle, the centerpiece, a garden filled with an assortment of gorgeous flowers. 

your eyes wander around the room. his collection rivals your own back at the estate, and you’re surprised that someone would have more books than your father. 

“this must have cost a fortune.” your hands run across some of the books nearest to the door. these are the ones that look as though they were brought recently, and you notice a copy of a book you own on the shelf. 

“kento has a way with words,” choso chuckles, “half of these, actually–, most likely more–, were bartered or traded.” 

you hum. “i will agree. though, not positively.” you smiles, “your guardian shared some… choice words towards me regarding a dance last night.”

“did he say something of offense?” choso frowns, “my apologies. my guardian is, well, not the best, i shall say, at using his words properly, despite his affinity for writing. i am sure he did not mean it.”

you don’t want to hurt this poor boy’s opinion of his guardian, and so you keep your mouth shut. “i will take your word for it, choso.” you pull out a book, caressing the pages carefully in your hands. the smell of old book hit your nose and you felt as though you were back at home in your father’s library.

“if you would like, i can leave you here until dinner. i am sure kento will not mind. he never really comes out from the study any way, so you will be completely undisturbed.”

twice now, the boys have mentioned kento's frequent absence. 

you ponder it for a moment, before smiling and nodding. “that would be wonderful. thank you for your hospitality, choso.”

“it is my pleasure, miss.” he gives you a bow, and shuts the door softly, leaving you to explore the room on your own.

you immediately head towards the couch situated by the window. there are books stacked upon the floor and on a nearby table, and you step around them carefully so as to not disturb them.

a book at the top of a stack by the couch peaks your attention. it's worn and has obvious signs of wear, but that only warms your heart as it means the book has been loved. you grab it, immediately becoming immersed.

you don’t notice when the door opens, and watching you curiously from the doorway is kento himself. 

leaning against the doorframe, he clears his throat. “and may i ask what you are doing in my personal library?” he looks a lot more relaxed than he did at the ball last night and you cannot tell if it is his attire or the fact that he is simply in his own home. he's dressed casually, with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked. his hair is slightly messy, and he's got a pair of round glasses on. despite your dislike for the man, you think he looks quite handsome.

“oh, mr. nanami.” you close the book carefully, setting it to the side, “my apologies. i did not mean to intrude. lord gojo invited my cousin and i over for dinner but he had some work. choso showed me around the manor and told me i could stay if i wanted. if you would like me to go though, i will.” you stand, smoothing out your dress, but he shakes his head.

“no, it is quite alright. you may stay.” he leans off the wall and shuts the door carefully behind him. “it was simply unexpected. that's all. i am not used to having visitors who are interested in my library.” as he approaches you, he notices the book in your hands. “you have a fondness for poetry?” 

“i do.” you smile, “i do not write myself– - no i could not use such eloquent words–, but i cannot help but enjoy them.” 

“one of my favorites too.” he murmurs, bending down to grab the book you were reading off of the couch. 

“i could tell. it is well-loved. you ought to buy yourself a new copy, mr. nanami.” you laugh lightly, “the words are fading.”

“do not tell me what to do with my own possessions. you have no right.” his head snaps up, “i have changed my mind. take your leave.” his voice is rigid and there’s a palpable anger behind his words.

“i- my apologies, mr, i-”

“out. i am not asking.” he orders, pointing a finger towards the door. 

“i am sorry.” you mutter once more, before practically flying out of the room. the door shuts with a thud and he closes his eyes, biting his lip as hard as he can. he thinks he tastes blood. 

he sinks onto the couch with the poetry book gripped tight in his left hand. with a small sigh, he turns the book to the side, running his finger along the barely visible “‘y.h.”’ engraved on the spine. it was so small and so worn out that one wouldn't notice it unless they knew it was there. he blinks away the tears and swallows down a lifetime’s worth of regret, opening the book as his fingers trail along the first stanzas of the first poem. he isn't reading– - he knows this book better than he knows himself– - this book is an extension of himself. he couldn’t ever bring himself to replace it for it would be as if he were replacing his own flesh and blood.

kento is late to dinner but the evident shock at his arrival on both yuuji, choso’s and satoru’s face tells you enough. he spares no one a glance, not even his own wards, and seems ticked off that the conversation at the table dwindled. 

you catch the side glances that yuuji and choso throw at each other, and you turn your body towards nobara, who is seated right beside you.

“he looks miserable.” you remark quietly, shoving the peas on your plate to the side. you were not a fan of peas, nor kento, but you would have to tolerate both it seemed.

“he always looks like that.” nobara replies back smoothly, “in the past four- and- twenty hours we have known him, i do not think i have ever seen a different expression on his face.” you let out a little giggle, turning your attention back to the conversation that was at hand. currently, yuuji was enthralling kento with a story of this young woman he had danced with last night.

“she  was absolutely stunning.” he sighs, “and yet, i am afraid i do not know how to capture her affections.” “what is her name?” kento takes a sip of his wine, cocking his head. “i would like to put a name to the woman you have not quit babbling about.” “yuko.” even saying the name causes the boy’s face to erupt in a smile, and you cock your head. “yuko?” you hum, “i have a friend named yuko about your age. say, i think your beloved yuko might also be mine.” “really?” his eyes sparkle, “you are friends with my dear yuko?” he gives you a quick description of the girl, and upon confirmation that they indeed share the same yuko, he leans in to the table. “do you know what she likes? what can i do to gain her admiration? what do you recommend to gain one’s affections?” 

“dancing.” your eyes flit quickly to kento who lets out an unamused snort. you were not going to remark, but his reaction irked you. “even if one’s partner is a discourteous soul.” 

“and what if one’s partner is just barely tolerable?” kento places his fork down, giving you a nasty look.

“well then,” you clears your throat, “everyone has their own interpretation of ‘barely tolerable’ and mine is sitting in front of me.”

satoru clears his throat, the tension between the two of them becoming suffocating. “well,” he smiles, “maybe you should call upon yuko tomorrow. invite her to dinner. and you, of course,” he turns to you, “are welcome to come tomorrow as well, since you are acquainted with yuko. oh, and your cousin as well!” 

“i appreciate the invite, my lord,” you wipe off your face with a small napkin that was provided, “but it seems as if i am an unwanted guest. i would absolutely hate to intrude on the itadori’s’ home for yet another anotyour day, especially considering the animosity i have been shown by their guardian.” you smile sweetly towards kento, who feels his chest constrict. “i would be delighted to have dinner again with you though, and so i am instead offering to return the favor and host you, yuko, yuuji and choso at my home tomorrow.”

the fact that you purposefully left him out causes kento to slam his fork down in anger. the plate rattled, and he nearly tips over his wine glass. “you are in my home, and i will not stand for your intolerance. i do not care if you are a guest under satoru–- you will respect me.” his voice is low and he is looking at you with a look his wards haven't seen since they were entrusted into his care.

you scoff, “i refuse to show respect to someone who has treated me with such contempt. i have been nothing but courteous to you, and yet you still find it in yourself to be ill-mannered. bless satoru’s soul because quite honestly, i am shocked you even have friends.”

“you are undermining me in my own home, and i do not appreciate it.” he hisses, “you become upset at my rejection, intrude upon my own personal library, and then proceed to invite every person i hold dear to me and exclude me.”

“i undermine you?” you laugh dryly, your eyes squinting at him, “you are delusional. you are the one who sits here and belittles everything i say, even if not directed towards you. though,” you stand, smoothing down your dress, “i suppose it is to make up for your lack of charm. lord gojo,” you bow, “i really do appreciate your hospitality. the same goes for you two,” you gives a soft smile to the boys, “but unfortunately, i am incredibly uncomfortable. nobara and i will be leaving now. thank you though, and my offer for tomorrow still stands.” nobara scrambles to bow to them, and you both leave. you waste not another glance at kento, your chest full and clenched with anger.

“i have plenty of charm, i just do not wish to waste it on a woman as average as you.” he shouts after you. as your footsteps recede, he shoves his own chair into the table, causing it to shake, and he retreats to his office, his fists clenched at his side.

the manor door closes noisily, and in the aftermath of their altercation everyone remaining at the table heard the slam of his study door and the simultaneous rumbling of your carriage pulling away out of the roadway. 

“i have lost my appetite.” yuuji mumbles, “please excuse me.” yuuji quietly tucks in his chair and leaves the room.

“as have i.” choso follows, leaving satoru alone in the dining room by himself. 

there’s a silence that follows, one that satoru does not like. satoru does not like silence much to begin with, but this one is heavier. this one was a direct cause of his actions. he leaves the dinner table, choosing instead to retire to his room for the night. in all his years of friendship, he has never seen kento so upset with a person, and he would hate to continue distressing his friend, especially considering the hardships the man is facing. on the other hand, there was a look in kento’s eyes that he could not place. it wasn’t hatred or disdain, and it bewildered the hell out of satoru. he saw the same look in your eyes too.

last night at the ball, you weren’t walking over to talk to him. no, of course you weren’t. his friend was spacing out and staring off into the distance, and when he followed his eyes, they were fixated on you. you were looking back at him with the same intensity, and then, both of their attentions were grabbed and pulled away. satoru noticed, how despite the many beautiful girls approaching kento, that his eyes kept wandering to that shadow, silently pleading for it’s attention. twenty minutes later, it was gone from the wall, and another two after that, satoru caught you from falling.

satoru had known from the very start that you were not into him and that your affections lay with kento. everything he had done was calculated from the minute he had asked you to dance. positioning you in kento’s line of sight so you could see each other while you danced, asking you to come over for dinner, and even choso’s manor tour. he’d specifically instructed choso to take you to the library and leave you there, as he knew midday was when kento decided to leave his office and head there. 

he had everything planned out perfectly. what he hadn’t counted on though, was kento’s pure stupidity. 

upon being seated in his office chair, kento picked up a quill, shuffling through the stacks of paper as he searched for a blank one. there, he scrawled a journal entry. his friend, haibara, had suggested a journal back when kento was a teen, though he’d had filled the pages of the journal haibara gifted him long ago. 

his journal was normal teen angsts that he entered in frequently,  but nowadays, his entries were far and few between, scribbled upon waste paper scrambled on his messy desk and then shoved into the bottom drawer, never to be read again. 

his quill moved faster than the words could process in his brain. kento had not felt any emotion in a long time, and now this girl–, you–, had brought upon more than he knew how to deal with. his eyes droopy and tired, kento abandoned the page as he stumbled his way up to the bed, disregarding his formal wear and simply passing out on his bed. 

surprise is kento’s first thought of the day -  most nights are spent pouring over documents and estate affairs in his office. most nights are spent half-slumped into his office chair until he hears yuuji and megumi chasing each other around the halls. but tonight, he'd woken up in his own bed, so he decides to savor it, before he must get up and bear the responsibility of his world on his shoulders. 

it’s then, when kento is enjoying the feel of his downy mattress and not of his hard wooden chair, that it gets sent. satoru  hadn’t planned to find his note, truly. he had gone into the office to wake kento up as he had done every morning he stayed with the itadori’s’ and when he opened the door, there was no kento. 

he was gone. and so satoru walked over to the desk, his eyes squinting at a note written on yellowing and half-ripped paper. it was in kento’s messy chicken-scratch, and after a quick read, satoru shoved it in his pocket anyways and exited the room, sealing it with the itadori family crest and sending it off with the rest of the post for the morning.

you receive the letter mid-day during your afternoon tea with nobara. the two of you hadn’t spoken about the quarrel between your and kento, and you were grateful for it. nobara instead spoke about her suitors, providing you a nice distraction from the anger, and slight regret, that bubbled in your chest.

“a letter for the miss.” your butler states, entering the room. it’s placed on the table next to you, and you pick it up gingerly, frowning at the state of it.

“if it could even be called that.” you mumble, “the paper is eons old.” you recognize the crest immediately, as it had been adorned around the manor you had spent time at yesterday. an ugly feeling claws its way up your throat.

“what is it?” nobara peers curiously, but you hold it away, hoping that satoru had just used their stationary and that it was not a letter from kento.“hey!” “give me a moment, i am reading, nobara.” you hiss out as you run your fingers along, squinting to read the handwriting. 

it has been ages since i have written, and unfortunately, as all others, .i am writing in a state of great frustration and  vexation. her recent behavior has been most unbecoming, and i cannot help but feel incensed by her actions. how could she be so rash... so .. thoughtless in her choice of words? i suppose she has every reason to, though. i have not been the kindest man. then again, when have i ever? 

and yet, despite this soul-encompassing anger, there is a sense of admiration. i cannot tell if it is admiration for her sheer audacity, or admiration for the lady herself. her fiery spirit and unyielding determination are truly remarkable, and i cannot help but be drawn to such a force of nature, as much as i would like to deny it. 

perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists. there is just some thing about the way that she carries herself. despite almost every interaction we have had being negative, i have left each one with a tightening feeling in my chest. 

i believe it is regret. it’s a feeling i am used to these days. the other night i could not sleep, how could i? i’ve treated her with such disdain that if my mother were still alive im sure she'd scold me. 

yet i cannot stop thinking of moments ago. it was the way she simply just disrespected me in my own home, without a care in the world, and looked so utterly ethereal doing it. her beauty makes me stupid and loose with my tongue.

she insulted me and she did it with grace and a bewitching voice. there is just something about that girl that i cannot forget and i -

it cuts off there, the quill mark running off the page indicating that his hand had slipped. without another word, you fold the letter, holding it neatly in your hand as you walk out of the manor, ignoring nobara’s calls. 

the itadori manor was across town, about thirty minutes walking. you had left without a coat and it was cold, but you pursued on, the hand holding the paper trembling. you needed an answer.

you made the walk in twenty and your knuckles rapped upon the door loudly. a butler opened and after a quick explanation of your business, you made your way to kento’s office. you slammed open the door and surprisingly, based on the way the boys speak of him, he was not in his office.

you were going to talk to him one way or another, and you wandered your way around the manor, angrily stomping. it was only when you’d made your way back to his office that you bumped into him. he had clearly just woken up and had haphazardly dressed himself. his hair was messy and he looked sleepy, but you did not care that you were probably going to bother.

“what is your issue?” you hiss, stepping towards him. “have i done something to offend you? am i just that awful of a person that you deem it necessary to toy with me?” “what- what are you talking about?” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, “and why is my office door open? was this you?” you ignore the question, instead unfolding the paper from it’s crumpled home in your pocket. “perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists.” you read, your voice wavering not once despite the shaking of your limbs and your heart.

his own heart stops. it stops beating completely and kento is pretty sure that this is what death feels like. “how did you get that?” his lip wavers, despite the rigid tone that escapes his mouth. “where did you get that from?”

“oh so now you are playing games with me?” you scoff, throwing your hands in the air, “seriously! you are a joke, kento nanami.” “is that why my office was open?” his eyes squint, and he looks terrified for a moment at his next thought. “did you go through my things?” “of course not! you sent this to me, did you not? stamped with the itadori seal, am i wrong?” you shove it in his face and you’re right, of course. the letter is stamped. “i am just wondering. why? why me? why did you choose to amuse yourself by picking on me? there are so many other women who would die for any attention given by someone of your stature, and yet you choose to belittle me!”

“it was not my intention, you have to believe me.” he sighed, adjusting the glasses that sit low on his nose, “i might as well be honest.” he clenches a hand by his side before taking a breath. “the first good thing you have done ever.” you scoff, and he bites his lip. he decides looking anywhere but your face would be a better choice at this time, so he settles his eyes on your collarbone.

“i was a fool. i will admit my faults, and there are many–- too many to name. believe me when i say this, i have never been more enchanted to meet a person in all my miserable years. i blundered, my jealousy overcoming me at the sight of you dancing with satoru and i continued to make a laughing stock of myself with each interaction. please, this is no scheme or ploy as you may think, i am genuinely and utterly enamored with you. there is no reason i should have treated you the way i did, but you make me absolutely stupid.” his chest is heaving, and you can see his hands shaking by his side. “please, i know this is sudden, but i would like to court you–-”

“you are a madman.” you whisper, cutting him off. “you are stupider than i thought you were if you think that for one second i am going to believe any display of affection from you, no matter how wordy. you have done nothing but make me feel as though i am nothing to you, and for that, you are the last man on earth i would ever marry. you are arrogant, disrespectful, and most of all, you have no empathy for the feelings of others. i would rather bring shame upon my family before i accept any proposal from you.” 

it’s silent between the two of you. he’s finally made eye contact - and you’re breathing just as heavily as he is. your lips are parted, and so are his, and he is fighting the urge to lean in right then and there.

the moment is ruined when you crumple the note in your hand and place it on his chest. he comes up to grab your hand, holding it close to his chest as he grabs the paper. his hands are warm, and they fit perfectly around yours. you both realize it. 

part of him hopes that you will take back your words, but it is far too late for that. it was too late for him the minute you asked him about dancing. 

“have a good life, lord nanami.” you say nothing else, dropping your hand and turning on your heels away from him. 

he takes a step. kento wonders if you would take him if he chased after you and begged you on his hands and knees. 

it’s silent after that. his ears are ringing and his chest is hot and burning in the spot where your hand just rested. he feels his heart sink to his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in years. it’s not disappointment and it’s not regret - it’s a yearning and a longing for something he won’t ever have. 

he needs to talk to his friend. it’s not a want, but a need. his friend would know what to do. he always did. within fourty minutes of your departure, the boys, satoru, and kento have packed up, abandoning the manor as quickly as they came.

the boys were quite prepared as they knew their guardian so well. it was not the first nor the last time that their guardian would relocate them in hopes of escaping whatever it is he seems to be running from. they had not even unpacked their bags, simply shoving the necessities back in and looking solemnly as kento took his own horse, not even riding with them. 

kento arrives far earlier than the carriages do and without another word, he hands off the horse to a housemaid and stalks off. he does not care that he has not eaten today or that it looks like it is going to rain; he needs to talk his friend. 

when kento was thirteen, he and his friend explored the woods behind their house together in an attempt to soothe kento's fear of the woods. for as long as he could remember, kento always had a fear of the unknown, and the sprawling landscape behind their house certainly did not help.

kento entered the woods hand in hand with haibara. haibara was explaining the different trees and flowers they saw, right until they stumbled across a small clearing, barely big enough for an outdoor lunch. it was right off the beaten path and was only a five minute walk from the forest entrance. 

he remembers being excited that this was the only spot not covered with grass - as there was only a small little circle sprawling with magnolia flowers. his friend said that it was beautiful that in the woods kento had found so scary there was a small, serene place with beautiful flowers. 

“if you had not come in here with me, neither of us would have stumbled upon this.” haibara had smiled up at him that day, “see, kento? there is beauty in this forest you fear.”

kento laughed and called it cliche and predictable, but now as he sits in front of haibara's grave in the middle of these magnolia flowers, he knows his friend lied. there has been no beauty in anything since his friend died, and everything to him has been unknown. kento’s been living in fear. 

upon entering the tiny field, there was one stone carving in the middle. kento sits right next to it, pulls his knees to his chest, and despite the neck pain that ached, he placed his head on the stone.

“hello, my friend.” kento begins, “i am sorry i was gone for so long. we went up into the town for the spring season. it was all satoru’s idea of course, you know him, and the boys were excited– - so i had to. i have done nothing but disappoint them and i hoped i would regain their favor by bringing them to the ton.” he sighs, his breath shaking. “i met a girl there. she is intelligent and gorgeous and kind. i know, i know, i always told you i would never marry and i would travel the world alone and explore. since you- since you left, i have had to reconsider. the itadori’s’ were placed in my care and .. and so- so, i thought it would be a good idea to socialize and get myself out there. i will need a wife eventually.” his voice cracks, and kento removes his head from the stone placing it in his knees as he cries. “the first time i met her, she was standing on the wall and she looked so, so beautiful, but of course-” he lets out a hiccuping sob, “she was not interested in me. who would be?” he laughs dryly, “i was… upset, and i said somethingsome thing that i did not mean and my pride would not allow me to apologize. the next time i saw her, she had your book in your hands. your favorite. sometimes i wonder why we did not bury you with it. i saw her and i got upset and i insulted her and at dinner i did it again. then, i confessed to her and she rejected me, and god, it is the worst emotion i have felt since you died. i feel sick and it hurts and i just,” he whimpers, “i just wish you were here still, haibara.” 

there is silence. of course there is. he is talking to a stone.

“i really, really messed it up, and i wish i could take it all back because she is absolutely wonderful.” he sighs, “of course, it is much too late for that.” still, silence. “i must get going, there is much to do.” he stands up and sighs, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly. “i will come to visit you again soon.”

true to his word, kento visits his friend everyday for the next week. some days he talks to him and tells him how choso and yuuji are doing, others he sits there and cries, and few times he has brought paper out to write.

there are hundreds of speeches he has written out and almost sent to you, expressing himself, and all of them have ended up crumpled and thrown into the trash. you asked him to leave you alone, and as much as it is killing him, he would rather die lonely than face any sort of argument with you again.

he decides he needs a weekend away, so after packing his bags and leaving the boys in the care of satoru, he sets off to a small cabin his father owned in the woods not too far from the estate. far enough that he'll be left alone, but close enough that if needed, he can return within a day.

yuuji, yearning for yuko, sends a letter the week before kento leaves. it asks her to come over, and yuko would have agreed almost immediately if not for the fact that she needs a chaperone.

you refuse immediately. “no, yuko, my answer is final. i refuse to visit the itadori’s’. please, forgive me.”

“please, friend.” she pleads, “no one else is available and yuu said that kento would be going on vacation! you would not even have to deal with him, please.”

“you are sure kento will not be there?” you raise a brow, the idea becoming a bit sweeter now that kento is not there.

“i swear. look.” she holds out yuuji’s letter, pointing out where he mentions kento’s absence. 

yuko’s eyes brim with hope as you reconsider. “fine. i will go with you, but just for the weekend.”

you arrive friday evening, when the sun has set and dinner has been served. kento had just left that morning according to the boys, so you will be free of him and his incessant behavior.

some small part of you ached though, for their constant bickering. the look in his eyes when he'd told you he loved you has haunted you, and caused many sleepless nights.

 you’re beginning to wonder if you had made the wrong decision. 

he was wealthy, sure, but one could tell he cared for his wards. he was intelligent and he had an affinity for the arts, and was well-spoken. but does any of that really outweigh his behavior? you wonder.

it was as if your thinking about kento summoned him. 

“oh. hello.” his voice sounds strained and you turns around to find kento standing there, his fists clenched at his side. “i was unaware you would be here.”

“i did not mean to intrude. yuuji and choso told me that you were gone for the weekend. i will make haste and leave as soon as i can.” you stand up, dusting off your dress. “my apologies, mr. nanami.”

“kento.” he clears his throat, “please. just call me kento. you do not have to leave, either. i was going for a walk around the grounds before i retreat to my office. i will be out of your way, as per your wish.” he takes a small bow, refusing to meet your eyes. “it's.. pleasure … it's a pleasure to see you again.” he stutters, and then turns away quickly.

“mr. nana–- kento.” you reach out to tap his shoulder, and the jolt through his body does not go unnoticed by you., “may i walk with you?”

he looks nervous, and his eyes flit around. “of course. i was going to.. visit my friend. i am,” he gulps, taking a deep breath, “i am sure he would love to meet you.”

“oh.” you smile softly, “i have not seen him around, though, i have only been here for a day.”

“i have told him much about you.” his voice is soft, as the two of you begin your walk. you are so close in proximity that your hands keep brushing together, and everytime they do, you watch his breathing seize.

you think you have killed him when you grab his hand and he stumbles over his own footing. “we should– - you should not be holding my hand, you are.. you are eligible and i- i am not courting you and–-”

“do you want me to stop?” you ask softly. in response, his hand squeezes yours softly as if to say, ‘please don't let go.’

you walk in a comfortable silence for another couple of minutes, hand in hand, before reaching the small magnolia field. 

“here we are.” he clears his throat, letting go of your hand. “my. .. my friend. i know, it is embarrassing that i speak to a gravestone, but. .. i have no one else to confide in.” he looks for any worry or fear in your face, and he finds nothing. nothing but compassion and kindness.

“i do not think it is silly.” you smile softly, “i think it is perfectly alright. that is your friend, after all.” you crouches down next to the stone, brushing your fingers over his name. “haibara. it is very nice to meet you, mr. haibara. there is no doubt in my mind that you were an excellent man.”

“you are going to dirty your dress.” kento frowns, “you do not have to sit.” his heart is pounding a million miles a minute, and he thinks it could not be any louder. he is sure you can hear it. 

“nonsense.” you smile, waving him off. “it would be rude of me to stand and speak to him.” 

watching your speak to his closest friend’s gravestone with such compassion makes him tear up. he knew that he loved you for a reason, and the fact that you started speaking to haibara with no questions asked simply hammered it home for him.

“i am only here for a day or two more,” kento is thrown out of his thoughts by your voice, “but i must say this estate is lovely. i do not even think my home rivals this.” you laugh, and the sound flutters in his stomach, “it is gorgeous.”

there is silence for a moment as you looks up at kento. he's standing over you with his fists clenched and in near tears and you just shake your head. “you should be very proud of kento.” you says loud enough for him to hear, as you make eye contact with him, “he is doing a wonderful job raising yuuji and choso. you have a wonderful friend.”

kento turns his back from you, but you can see the shaking of his shoulders and hear him clear his throat.. “my apologies, please, excuse me.” he sniffles, “i am a little overwhelmed.”

it hits you now. kento has every reason to be as cynical and as rude as he is– - life has not been goodwell to him. he has grown up without a mother, and halfway through his life his father passed, and then his closest friend. add to that two wards that were thrown on top of his responsibilities and you have one struggling kento nanami.

“he is a wonderful man.” you project your voice so you can still hear him, “and i have been entirely nonsensical about him.” 

“pardon?” his voice cracks, making him cringe, but you still looks at him with that same soft expression. he is glad you cannot see his face right now, for all you would see is his despair. 

“i was wrong about you.” you stand, placing a hand on his shoulder. his back is still turned to you, and you respect his space, staying out of sight. “i was entirely wrong.” 

he closes his eyes and prays– - prays that this means what he thinks it does. “three words from you will silence me forever.” he whispers brokenly, “if you are not going to say it and mean it, please, just say it once so that i may replay it in my head for when you are gone.”

“i cannot.” his shoulders fall and his stomach sinks. you slides your hand down his arm to reach his hand, and  you squeeze. “i refuse to be the first time i declare my affections for you to be said to your back.”

he whips around almost immediately, and standing on your tiptoes, you cups his face with both of your hands. your thumbs wipe the tears from underneath his eyes.

“hello, handsome.” you smile and his head leans into your hand as he laughs with a little sniffle. “your smile suits you. i wish i could see it more often.”

he tries to duck his face away where you cannot see but you keeps it sturdy in your hands. “do not shy away from me, i want to see your face. there you are.” you smiles., “i apologize for my misunderstanding of your character. i said some harsh things that i am realizing now that i did not mean, and i am hoping you could forgive me. i am pleading.”

“you do not have to apologize. ever. it is my fault for being immature. my answer remains the same as it did a few weeks ago– - if you will have me, then i will be yours. no-now, and forever.” he rushes his words and you let go of his face with a nod and he blinks at you, his face swelling with joy. 

“it is a deal, then.” you laughs, “forever is quite a long time though, kento. 

“it will not be nearly enough time for me to spend with you. there will never be enough time.” he lifts your chin up to look at you. “god, you were plucked out of my dreams and put into my arms. i am the luckiest man on earth.”

you swat his arm gently., “you are magnificent with your words when they are not shooting to kill,.” you say lightly. your cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling, but you do not care.

“my words will be soft and sweet for you, always,.” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ears, “from this point on.”

“i was just about to mention how they have not been in the past.”

“and for that, i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” he kisses your hand, and keeps eye contact the entire time. “every minute of every day. i love you.” 

there it was.

“i love you,” he kisses your knuckles, “i love you,” he kisses your palm, “i love you,” up your arm, “i love you,” on your left cheek, “i love you,” right cheek, “i love you,” nose, “i love you.”

and finally, his hands coming up to cradle your head, he presses a promising kiss to your lips.  “i love you. forever.” 

[felixtrash469-blog]

Professor Hatake x reader

Parings: Hatake Kakashi x reader

Reader Gender: They/them pronouns - AFAB

Genre: Smut - Minors do not interact

Other: University AU (Separated into years), Alpha Kakashi, Omega reader. Professor Kakashi, Student reader, Slight breeding kink, Marking, F/N (First name) over Y/N (Your name) used

Kakashi organized his papers that were strewn across the desk. He sighed, lining them up and preparing for the staff meeting. He made his way down the hall to meet with the other professors. Wandering in, only slightly late, he watched all eyes flick to him. Iruka gave him a disappointing look as he took his seat beside him.

“Now that all professors are present, let’s discuss the students. Is there any trends, concerns or issues arising?” Konoha was a small university, consisting of only 50 students in each year. This cohort of professors taught the 3rd years in their respective subjects, Iruka focusing on history, Gai in Physical education, Orochimaru in chemistry, there were more teachers, but he didn’t interact much with them. Kakashi himself taught biology, with a focus on how each of the different special gendered possibilities interacted with each other. A special interest of his was guessing which category each person fit into, Alpha, Beta or an Omega. Kakashi himself, being an Alpha could normally sense when other alphas or omegas were on heat, but there were no other known signs on how to tell in current research. His eyes swept the table, Iruka was a beta without a doubt. He’d known the man long enough to know he’s never gone into heat; he had barely taken a sick day. Gai was also an alpha, taking off 2 weeks every six months. Tsunade was… looking at him angrily.

“If we may steal just a moment of your attention, it would be greatly appreciated Kakashi.”

“Of course, the question?”

“The student F/N L/N has been missing for a week and hasn’t informed anyone. Do you have any idea of their whereabouts?”

“I can’t say I do, sorry.”

F/N L/N was an average student in his class. Not the best but far from the worst. Mostly came in and did their work before leaving for the next class. It wasn’t unusual for a student to take a day off here and there and not inform anyone, but a week without telling any professor was cause for some alarm. The students were adults, in their 20’s; by this point, they could handle their work fine. The greatest concern was that the majority lived alone and if they got hurt, they had no one to help them.

“Who has the least amount of classes for the day?”

Every professor around the table mumbled out their remaining classes. Kakashi was the only one without classes. Tsunade didn’t hesitate.

“Kakashi, come to my office after this meeting. I will provide you with F/N’s address and you are to go check on them and ensure their safety. “

There goes his afternoon. The one day he has a free slot to mark papers, taken by Tsunade’s wishes.

The meeting continued without further discussion on Kakashi’s behalf. There were no trends or concerns in his class, he wasn’t even sure why he had to attend these meetings. A better use of his time was to work on the next topic for the class.

Once the meeting had concluded, he followed Tsunade to her office. She shuffled around through the student paper, attempting to locate F/N’s file. She finally placed a file on the desk, a small picture of F/N on the front. He had to admit, if they weren’t his student, he would have found them at the very least, slightly attractive. Tsunade copied down the address on a sticky note, handing it to Kakashi.

“Just go make sure they’re okay. You can have the rest of the day off. Consider it a thank you for checking on them. Pack up and head over now.”

“I’ll tell you how they are on Monday.”

“Sure, have a good weekend Kakashi.”

Kakashi reviewed the note on the way to his office, it wasn’t far, a 20-minute walk, if that. At least he got an early Friday out of it.

Kakashi packed up his things, looking over at his half-written work. The work for the next lesson sat, glaring at him. ‘The effects of marking on Omegas’. An important topic for anyone looking to go into the research of alphas and omegas. Kakashi would have to finish it Monday, possibly read up on sources over the weekend to reference.

It wasn’t as if he had marked anyone himself. Most of the sources he read explained it as euphoric, a once in a lifetime feeling that could never be replicated. It was apparently something that came on instinct to mark when either the omega or alpha was in heat. Kakashi had specifically avoided that. He would never sleep with someone when they were on heat, after all, it could bring on his own. On his own heat, he would lock himself away. Marking was a bonded for life sort of deal, not something he was interested in.

As Kakashi walked towards his student’s house, he reviewed the topics he had covered so far. Most were surrounding the mating ritual research or lack-there-of. It was still so under researched. Lost in his thoughts, he had finally reached his destination. Walking up to the door, he raised his hand to knock.

There was a sweet smell drifting in the air. The smell was hard to explain. When F/N opened the door, the smell hit him like a ton of bricks. The pheromones of an omega, something he had smelt before but never this close. Kakashi could feel his instincts igniting at the scent.

“Professor Hatake?”

You stood in front of him. Your face was flushed and your lips looked unbelievably glossy. You stood in front of him in a long t-shirt and what he would hope was panties underneath.

“H-hello F/N. I just came by to check on you and make sure you’re okay.”

Your eyes looked glazed, and you seemed completely out of touch with reality. There was no denying that you were in heat. Kakashi tried to advert his eyes.

“’s okay, professor, you smell really good.”

You were definitely out of it and too far gone to think straight. Kakashi could feel his pheromones start to build as he stood in your presence. He had to leave, his heat would come on quickly standing in your presence and he could already feel the rush of lust heading straight down.

“Yes, well, now that I can see you’re safe, I should take my leave.”

You stepped out a little from behind the door catching his wrist. The jolt of excitement it sent through Kakashi was dangerous.

“Professor, why don’t you stay a little while?”

Kakashi looked at you, your eyes were half lidded now, a desire filled gaze looked down at the connected hands. You tugged Kakashi back a little, the smell from your apartment hit him again. He was losing all sense and allowed himself to be tugged into the apartment. He knew he fucked up when the door clicked behind him, but he had lost all will to fight against it.

You sat Kakashi on the couch, sparing only a single moment before seating yourself on his lap. Kakashi couldn’t stop looking at your face, your perfect lips, just begging to be kissed. Your eyes and the way they trailed down his body, almost filled with excitement when you saw the tightness of his pants.

“Forgive me professor, but I can’t help myself.”

You reached down, pulling down his mask and connecting your lips. The session between you two became a heated mess of tongues as you eased themselves to sit on top of Kakashi’s dick. He could feel your wetness soak into his pants. Kakashi grinded up into them, making you moan into the kiss. Finally pulling away for air, a trail of saliva connected your lips. Kakashi went straight for the neck, kissing and sucking on your sweet spots. Hands started to wonder and Kakashi gripped your right breast, feeling the smooth skin under his hand. The nipple was unbelievably hard for him, he knew you were horny, but he didn’t realise you were this desperate.

Kakashi broke away from your neck, seeing the red and purple forming where he had been a tad rough. He flipped their positions so that you were laying on the couch. Kakashi removed both of their shirts, finally getting the perfect view of your breasts. Kakashi didn’t waste a second, dipping his head to suck on your nipple. He reached his hand up to play with the other while you mewled underneath him. He could feel his dick twitch in anticipation at what was to come. He could only imagine the pre-cum that was leaking out of his throbbing erection. Kakashi released the nipple from his hand, chuckling a little at the annoyed noise you made. His hand trailed slowly down, slipping past the elastic of your panties. He could feel how wet you were for him. His hands hadn't yet found their way inside of you and they were already slippery with your arousal.

When Kakashi finally slipped a finger in, he heard a groan of pleasure. He moved his mouth to the other nipple, leaving a trail of saliva before slipping another finger in. He pumped slowly in and out at first, his fingers curling while inside, trying to find the perfect spot. That didn’t last long as you started grinding on his fingers, trying to gain more friction, more movement, more of him.

“Patience baby, I promise to stuff you full of my cock soon.”

Truthfully, it was taking everything in Kakashi to not just do it now. His heat response had kicked in enough that he needed to fuck you into oblivion but not enough to forgo ensuring you were prepped enough to handle him.

Removing his fingers, he scissored them, watching as your arousal connected between the two digits. Kakashi brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste so good F/N. If you feel even half as good, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you all night.”

Kakashi reached down to remove your panties, sniffing the pheromones off them before flinging them away. He didn’t hesitate, moving to free his erection next. He watched a little as you sat up, eyeing his dick as it sprung free. Kakashi removed the rest of his clothing before spreading the pre-cum over his length. He knew he was decently sized, a bit on the girthy side and he could see in your eyes the excitement build.

Kakashi moved his length between your folds, gathering your arousal before lining himself up. When he finally thrusted in, he lost all control. He pounded his way in, all the way to the hilt. He could just hear you moan mix with his own. Kakashi wasn’t escaping this, he was going to keep fucking you until he knew you were pregnant with his child. Until you were so filled with his cum that you became swollen.

Kakashi started moving and he was sure he was seeing stars. The way your velvety walls suck him in and clenched around him, the sound of your arousal coating his dick, creating a squelch every time he moved back in. He was sure this was heaven. Kakashi reached down to your clit, thumb rubbing in circles as you squirmed underneath him. The pleasure was almost unbearable, the mix of all the sensations drove him wild. When you reached up and dragged your nails across his back, his body reacted pleasingly.

Kakashi couldn’t stop himself from thrusting, pulling out to the tip and going back into the hilt. The thrusts were hard and fast. He used his free hand to pin your hip to the bed to stop you from moving. Your walls were clenching more, and he could smell how close you were to climaxing. Kakashi moved his thumb faster on your clit and when he felt your walls fluttered and clamp on his dick, the urge to mark you came. Kakashi had never felt like this before, he wanted it forever. He was so close to cumming, you were under him, begging for more, a steady flow of ‘don’t stop’ and ‘fuck me harder professor’ spilling from your lips.

“’m going to cum. I’m going to fill you up with my seed. You’re going to get pregnant for me. Is that what you want baby? You want to carry around your professor’s baby?”

Kakashi heard you choke out a ‘please Kakashi, fill me up’ between sobs of pleasure. At the sound of his name, he was cumming. He pushed himself in as far as he could go, making sure that his cum reached your womb. Kakashi slowed down slightly to milk himself inside you. In a moment of weakness, he reached up to your shoulder, biting hard and pushing out pheromones. He was still riding his high, too engrossed to care that he marked you.

Even after cumming, Kakashi still wasn’t satisfied. He was still rock hard. Seeing his mark on your shoulder only pushed to further his need to breed you like his perfect cum slut. You also continued to rock your hips against his, begging for a round two.

Kakashi happily obliged, fucking you again and again. Time wasn’t a factor of consideration, the only need Kakashi had was to continue filling you to the brim with his seed.

When Kakashi finally gained some control back over his body, it was morning. His mind was foggy and his mouth was dry. The nausea raised in his throat not long after, he struggled to get out of bed and make it to the attached ensuite. His legs felt like jelly, the only way he could hold himself up was by leaning on the sink. Kakashi dry heaved but nothing came up. Looking in the mirror, he had purple blooming across his skin. He had fucked up. He had royally fucked up. You were his student. He fucked his student.

The dizziness set in and he made his way back to the bed he woke up in. No more then two minutes later, there was a small knock at the door before it opened. Your head popped through. When you saw him, you brought a tray of food and water into his view.

As much as Kakashi was thankful for the water and food, he could see the purple marks moving up your neck from under your clothes.

“Are you feeling better Professor?”

Kakashi nodded, unsure of his voice.

“Can I ask a couple of questions? Like when you got here? Or why you came?”

“I came Friday to check up on you as you hadn’t been attending classes. What day is it?”

“Sunday.”

Two days. Two fucking days. He had lost control of himself for the whole weekend. He knew that being in heat with an omega could be bad, but he didn’t expect this bad.

“Um, professor? I have one more question.”

Kakashi raised his eyes to you, prompting you to speak. He watched as you rolled down the neck of your shirt to expose your shoulder.

“Is this a- um- a mark?”

Kakashi had severely fucked up this time. There was no going back. A mark. For life. The pheromones in that would make them bonded for life. All the research papers told him he would never be able to fall out of love with them once the mark was placed and the feelings grew. He’s fucked. He fucking came in them. How would he explain this to the school? How would he explain it to their parents.

“Professor, your breathing has gotten pretty bad. Did you need some water? What’s wrong? Is it a mark?”

Kakashi nodded. He watched as their face faltered before dropping. He watched as they went through the motions of acknowledgement, feeling everything in a mere 30 seconds.

“Well, I suppose there’s worse people to be bonded to, right Professor?”

At least he knew they could see the bright side.

“I hope you keep that same positivity for when the baby comes F/N.”

“The w-what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I was bored and decided to write this, I am getting back into writing after a 5 year break, so I apologise if it isn't the best. I appreciate all support. Requests are open if you did want to request something.

[visceralcoma]

So I've been replaying the "Inner Demons" quest for Lucanis. I wanted to collect as much from it as possible for...reasons. All the notes that are "Thought Fragments" and all the echoes we hear as we travel through it. And I got different echoes the few times i played through it and I don't know if there are more lines, feel free to add more but these are the ones I gathered.

Echoes:

Calivan: Useless. All of this. Utterly useless.

Zara: Promoted from flying vermin to malicious spirit. Whatever will you become next, I wonder?

Illario: How long are you going to keep doing this?

Venatori: You should be grateful to give your life to the magister’s research, what an honor!

Zara: Envy is the rarest of all demons. And most challenging to cultivate. The conditions must be perfect. Illario: Cousin stop, you can’t dwell on this. It’ll drive you mad.

Calivan: Couldn’t you simply die already? This experiment has gone on for far too long.

Zara: What trouble you’ve been.

Illario: I get one of you back, only to lose the other.

Illario: Caterina was First Talon. This is Crow Business. We can handle it.

Venatori (lady): When the demon emerges, let me have his entrails, my lady.

Illario: If I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to do this anymore. Zara: What are you hiding, little demon?

Illario: I can’t believe it. You’re home.

Venatori: Ah yes, the Crow. You will learn to regret your crimes against the Venatori.

Thought Fragments:

With Caterina

She gave that ring to my mother. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina… (So few of us left…)

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed… (All I have left…)

…but we’re more like brothers. Caterina took us both in…(All we had left…)

With Lace

I shouldn’t have let myself fall asleep. This was my mistake… (Spite is here.)

If I cannot stay in control…(Spite is waiting.)

You’d have to kill me…(And Spite would die.)

With Neve

…there aren’t words enough to apologize…(I cannot be this.)

I was distracted. That cannot happen again. I need to get my head on straight… (I’m better than this.)

I didn’t want you to see that. Again…(I’m not this. I cannot be this.)

With Illario

What is he thinking? How am I supposed to deal with this… (What have you done?)

She came after me. She came after Caterina. She will come for you too… (Cousin, what about you?)

Scents:

And here are the scent Spite describes for us. Lace doesn't get a description. Spite also describes Neve's differenlty depending on whether Lucanis's relationship with her is Platonic or romantic.

Caterina: Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment.

Neve:

Platonic: Strangeness and charm. Something familiar and foreign at the same time. With a little guilt.

Romancing: Stomach churning excitement. Dread with a hint of hope. A long way to fall.

Illario: Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath. Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed.

[xiakato]

Interview with the Director(M)- NINGNING

“Took you long enough to get here,” The woman takes a sip from her glass, her office overlooking a beautiful mountain range in the valleys of Switzerland. 

“Giselle doesn’t like giving me the answers I want,” You sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. 

“She’s always been one to beat around the bush.” 

“Rather annoying, I had to fuck it out of her,” You sigh placing the audio recorder onto her desk. 

“Well if the stories I’ve heard about you are true, I can’t blame her,” The woman’s smile is captivating. Of course the low light that these women seem to rejoice in, added to the atmosphere nearly as much as their beauty. 

“You could see later, first and foremost it’s an interview my dear Ning Yizhuo.” 

“You’ve certainly done your research, even knowing that name I’ve long since forsaken.” 

“It was difficult, you’ve nearly scrubbed every record of your name besides one of course.” 

“My death certificate?” 

“Yes, why? Why go through all that trouble for everything else but leave that?” 

“Because Ning Yizhuo is dead to the world and anyone that may fall about the story of the Ning family, the family that was found dead in their home.” 

“Tell me about your family,” You pull out your journal, filled with the notes from the previous two interviews. The stories these girls hold you feel that they need to be heard. 

“Run of the mill family, I feel, well as run of the mill we could be for 1740,” She leans back in her luxurious chair, looking out of the floor to ceiling windows. The snow falling to the ground as if it’s a missing piece of a larger than life puzzle, “There were whispers, that my family was plotting to betray the Emperor, yet my family still tried and true. My father was a devoted man, my mother could care less, her only care was the children. Till a night such as this one,” she nods her head at the beautiful snowy night and the surrounding alps, “It was a cold night, the fire burned brightly. They descended about our house, blood lined the walls. The blood of the maids spilt in their living quarters sullied their footsteps. They dragged us out of our beds. The terror that encased my body, the tears that stained my cheeks. The cries of my family that fateful night fell on deaf ears as we were slaughtered one by one,” She pauses as a tear falls down her cheek, remembering that painful night of which changed her life, it haunts her, even now, tormenting her in her dreams, “I was left bleeding out on the floor, my vision slowly fading and that’s when I saw her. Skin was white as the snow that fell around her.”

“Is that how she got her nickname?” 

“You seem to know who it is already so yes that’s how she did get that name, Winter.” 

“What of Karina’s brother?” 

“Oh Sunwoo, a cutie, very diligent. He’s long since gone on to work for an unsavory group of vampires. One's hope is to turn the tide of the elders, hoping to get their hands onto power that is yet out of their grasp.” 

“What is this group?” 

She gets out of her chair, “Follow me,” You grab the recorder and follow, “The group is nothing less than a meager thorn in the side of the ones aligned with the elders. They wish to garner enough power and people that could use the power of elders, ones that aren’t an elder themselves. Much like you.” 

“What would they want me for?” 

“They seem to have found a way to extract the power of the hosts, killing them obviously. I heard recently that they’ve been rather busy. I could only assume they’re looking for you,” She opens the door to her bedroom, a lavish room decorated with black and red satin. 

“I see, well enough of them, how did you come to be in charge of this place?” 

“Elder Marius took a particular liking to me, he is long since dead. Watched him turn to ash.” 

“Thanks for your time Miss Ning,” You bow slightly to her and stop the recorder, turning on your heels to leave. 

“Where do you think you’re going manthing?” Her words stop in your tracks, “You seem to think you can just leave without giving me my payment.” 

“What sort of payment do you think you’re going to get?” You turn to look at her, your eyes falling to her perfect legs crossed as she sits on the edge of her bed. 

“The only thing of use that you can give, so strip,” She commanded, her eyes glowing under the light from the fireplace. You were hoping to avoid this as you didn’t want to fuck everyone you interviewed yet her you are pulling your trousers down. She gestures for you to get closer, you do without a second thought. Her soft and slender hand wraps around your cock, shivers run down your spine as you feel how cold she is despite being near a fire. She smirks to herself, “I see why Giselle decided to keep you around.” 

“She keeps more around for more than just my dick,” You tell her as you make her lay on the bed, hiking up her skirt making short work of her panties. 

“Rather confident about it, you should know by now anything that comes out of her mouth you can’t trust,” She chuckles which is replaced by a sharp inhale and a moan as you slide your cock into her, her tightness squeezes your cock not wanting to let go, “Fuck.”

You grip tightly onto her thighs using them as leverage as you thrust deep into her, she squeezes your cock at random intervals adding to your pleasure. Looking down at her, seeing her with that smirk etched on her lips. You part her lips with your thumb, her fangs grazing across it as you keep thrusting, getting her to feel every inch. Her legs wrap around you tightly as she reaches her climax. You slowly pull out as her juices cover the bed sheet. 

“We aren’t done here pretty boy,” She says between catching her breathing, she gets on her knees arching her back, spreading her ass, “Fuck my ass~” 

You don’t have to be told twice, as you push your tip into her ass, “So tight,” You continue to push deeper and deeper.

“No o-ne has fucked my ass since the 80’s, I had to do it myself~” She moans out as you bottom out in her tight ass, “Break me pretty boy, tear that ass up,” She smiles as she feels your cock piston in and out, “FUCK YES!” 

Her moans echo through the halls, the sound skin slapping against skin accompanies it. Your hand wrapped up in her hair as she takes your cock, her mind merely a blank slate. Her eyes glazed over as her ass was used just like she wanted. You pull out quickly, surprising her as she squirts adding to her puddle. Her whole body shakes as she looks back at you, ”You fucker.” 

“I’m only giving you what you wanted, remember that Yizhuo,” You pull her ass back up, spreading it, looking at your handy work. You smile to yourself as you slide back in with ease. She hasn’t recovered from her latest orgasm as you get back to your pace from before. You grip her hips tightly as you pound away chasing your own high using her like a sex toy. She digs her nails into your forearm. You go as fast as your own hips allow as you start to fill her ass with your cum. You keep going, you want to break her, and you will. Grabbing her other arm using them as leverage.

“FUCK FUCK!” She screams out as she starts to squirt as you rail her ass, making sure her ass will forever be able to take your cock whenever. Shooting another load into her, you finally let her go as she collapses on the bed, cum dripping from her ass. You catch your breath as you head over to your trousers. 

“Dirty slut,” You say getting dressed, and walking towards the door as she starts to giggle digging her fingers into her ass spreading it more. 

“Don’t you want to fill my ass more~?”

[markrosewater]

I'm fairly certain the "I have to draft Spiderman even though I don't want to" asker was talking about playing at an LGS or at tournaments. And I highly doubt the person running the store/event is going to forgo drafting that set when it is the latest set. One, because it's the latest set and most stores just run one (maaaybe two) drafts a week of whatever just came out, and two, because that set will no doubt be very popular. I don't think they would switch any of those draft events to an older set that'll certainly perform much worse because a single player doesn't like Universes Beyond. And yeah, I definitely wouldn't if I was in charge of scheduling drafts. So responding to them with a suggestion to play another draft format isn't really all that helpful, and I think their critique of your buffet analogy made a lot of sense in their particular case.

If you want to draft, you're most likely signing up to play the latest set. But there were drafters that didn't like the body horror of Phyrexia: All Will Be One or the cuteness of Bloomburrow or the modernity of Duskmourn. The idea that you're drafting a set that isn't your cup of tea from a flavor standpoint is something that drafters always deal with.

My point was that one of Magic's strengths is that there are many ways to play it. If you feel so strongly about a product (be it Universes Beyond or an in-multiverse Magic set) that you refuse to play with it, there are other ways to play Magic.

I'm not trying to come across as cold to the Universes Beyond dislikers. I do understand why Universes Beyond crosses a line for you. For a long time, I shared that line of where Magic creative should be. I'm really not trying to dismiss it. My issue is my job isn't just to make one subset of Magic players happy, but make all Magic players happy.

The problem is there's low cost to adding things. If there are things that a subset would really enjoy that Magic doesn't do yet, I can explore adding those things. There's a giant cost to subtracting things. Taking them away means no one gets to play with it.

Now, there are things that cross that line because they are upsetting to a high enough percentage of Magic players (ante, strong land destruction, Aftermath sets, etc.). But if I took away every aspect of Magic that a small subset disliked, there wouldn't be a lot left.

Double-faced cards would be gone, horror sets would be gone, cute sets would be gone, planeswalkers would be gone, "activate once per turn" would be gone. The list would go on and on. Anything you adore about the game, odds are there's someone else that hates it.

There's an audience, and a pretty big one (with a lot of enfranchised players in it), that wants Universes Beyond sets and cards. And that group mostly wants to play those cards in the formats they play. (In general, market research shows players want to play the cards they most prefer in the formats they most prefer.)

Yes, our buffet might have a Seafood night, where we focus on seafood, but the reason we do that is there are a lot of customers who will show up and eat the seafood. The buffet will still have other food, and you can eat a meal without seafood if you really don't want to eat seafood, but the banner up on the wall will say "Seafood Night".

[sufrimientilia]

The Director

humiliation | dehumanization | conditioning @augusnippets Day 16

cw: medical/lab setting, subject whumpee, captivity, see above

The operating theater was dim and quiet, free of machines and stainless metal trays and the buzz of nurses poking at every part of him. Maybe that was a good sign.

Although the observation deck overhead was dimly lit up as well. That definitely wasn’t.

He had been forced into some cushy padded chair. The researcher fussing over him was a vaguely familiar and unwelcome face by now, and most of the time she didn’t even bother speaking directly to him. “Director. I have been looking forward to showing you the progress we’ve made with this study. I think you’ll be… quite impressed.”

She was squeaky today, talking up to one big reflective wall. Like she had something to prove.

He pulled at his restraints. “Really chose your star student for this one, huh?”

“You’re aware of my efforts to achieve a state of neuroplasticity for our behavioral conditioning program,” the researcher continued unfettered, propping a halo-shaped machine right over his head. “Through exhaustive trials, I’ve finally achieved an inducible state of docility and submission. Each brain reacts so differently, but we are particularly proud of Subject 3B-167. He has taken to the induction very well.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He started fighting even harder. The padded cuffs always had such a distinct way of cutting into his wrists and ankles, raw and ragged even under layers of gauze. “I haven’t taken to shit! All you do is drug me and cut me open and act like a fuckin’ cu—”

The machine gave one shrill little tone and lit up with a ring of blue light. Every part of him locked up like it was electricity, a single lightning strike through every muscle, clenching and stretching his skin gaunt. It lasted only as long as the beep, and then he just went slack— limp and lifeless, eyes glazed, mouth dropping open under the blue haze.

“Initial findings are promising: we’re seeing a consistent reduction in resistance, with the subject entering a compliant state in under three seconds.” She flicked her fingers in front of his eyes. He didn’t even twitch. “His reactivity varies, but most cognitive faculties are effectively shut down.”

She flicked off the blue light. The subject jerked and shuddered hard, blinking like it was just an odd muscle spasm. And then he kept on fighting without skipping another beat, not realizing the gap in his efforts. “—cunt! You stupid cunt! What are you trying to—ghh-”

The light flicked on and he slumped under its glow. She pushed his head back against the headrest. “I’ve tested this across various states of consciousness, but the results are especially intriguing when the subject is under duress. It seems the stress amplifies the effectiveness of the trigger. We can achieve total behavioral suppression.”

She dimmed the light until it turned off. This time he took longer to snap out of it, blinking hard before pulling in a sharp breath. He exchanged her observant stare with a confused one before finally lifting his head. He looked around. “What… What the hell’s going on?”

“Repeated therapies make the subject highly suggestible and seems to affect memory retention. He doesn’t even remember most of the procedures.” She sounded amused here. “Each reset wipes the slate clean.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, lady?”

The blue ring. His pupils blew wide. His neck kept landing at an uncomfortable, awkward angle, and the researcher shoved his head back before he could drool all over himself. “His defiance is only a facade now. Gone in an instant.”

When the light shut off, it took a long moment for him to regain his bearings. His brow hardened— frustration, maybe, like everything was too slow to follow. “Why ‘m I…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He glared up at the researcher. “Just get it over with or lemme go, why are y—”

The blue light flicked on. Every part of him surrendered to the misty glow, eyes rolling upwards to give the halo a blank stare. “It feels good to obey,” the researcher said, following the same compliance protocols. “Resistance fades; obedience remains.”

Next time the light turned off, he barely woke up. He stayed slumped against the padded chair, dazed and confused, blinking owlishly at the dark ring hovering above him. “What ‘re you… doing…”

“Subject 3B-167. Follow my finger closely.” His gaze tracked a slow horizontal. Up and down. “Very good. Noted for compliance.”

“Wha’?” He weakly pulled at the restraints. “Mm not, n’no…”

A twilight haze of blue. His gaze roamed along the arc of it, enraptured and lost, paralyzed all over by the usual mantras. A subject’s identity is in their obedience. Obedience is his natural state. He exists to obey. Obey, obey, obey.

Eventually, the light dimmed all the way and the subject was still a drooling mess. He didn’t snap out of it, not even with enough prodding and pushing. He just mumbled out an incoherent string of sound and stared at the empty ring.

“From here we would move on to hypnotic conditioning. I find the subjects tend to be incredibly receptive in this state,” the researcher said, standing proudly next to her mindless subject like he was some pretty prototype. “My next phase will involve refining the protocols to ensure long-term compliance without the need for constant reinforcement. It will take time, but we're on a good track."

The microphone from the other side of the glass finally sparked to life, and it was with the greatest approval to be had from The Director: “Keep going. I want to see more.”

[is-nini]

RANDOM BRAINROT

18+ DNI MINOR

Imagine you and Alhaitham was chosen to be partners is researching about a specific type of flower.

You and him are pretty close. You two could've been closer if you didn't shy away every time he gets too close.

This flower that you and him is a very beautiful fuchsia red flower that spray out this pinkish pollen.

Imagine as you try to find out what it does, your mask slip and your nose is immediately in contact with the pollen. Alhaitham looked back after he noticed you not moving. After he look at your fallen mask, his heart rate increases.

He hold your shoulder and make you face him as your face turns red and little heart symbol slowly appears on your eye. Your mouth is opened and your eye is staring up at him full of lust.

Imagine you started to hug Alhaitham, clinging to him like he will be gone once you let him go. "Alhaitham -! Ah!" You moan out as you try to grind your clothed pussy to his thigh.

Imagine Alhaitham shocked as he try to keep himself in check because he is starting to looses his mind looking at your cute expression and pout, begging for his cock.

"y/n- ngh" he groan out as you slowly stroke your hand on his buldge. Alhaitham is confused on how to save you. It seems there's only one thing he could try ... And that is to fuck you.

Imagine he immediately pick you up and sat you up on the nearest table. He slowly pulls away your cute panties as a string of your wetness slowly disappears. He took a slick from your pussy and smear it all over. "Perhaps.. in order to save you is through fucking you" he muttered, but you listened and there is only one thing in your mind. "Haitham- f-fuck please! M-my pussy itches ahhhh I need your cock" You moan out.

He makes sure your pussy is prepared as he teased you. You whine and tremble as more and more wetness came out. He opened his pants and immediately trusted in his big cock deep inside you. "Ah-oh! Yes yes! Oh Haitham! Oh-!" You moan out. No coherent words came out of your mouth but Haitham doesn't care. He pinched on your nipple that is poking through your shirt.

Your back bend and out leg getting tense as a knot on your stomach started to form. You whine and cry louder as Haitham thrust getting faster and faster.

Once Haitham saw your eye, the love symbol is slowly disappearing, meaning that you have been fully conscious all this time, enjoying him. Your leg shakes as you squeal. Splashes of water squirt out of your pussy, all over him. As Alhaitham also nearing his end, he pulls out and let out one long deep grunt and squirt all over your body and stomach.

The both of you catches your breath as your body tremble, looking at him. "H-aithammm" you mumble before you're eyes went heavy and you immediately knocked to sleep. Alhaitham is still huffing and puffing for air as he comb his wet hair back with his hand.

He cleaned you up after cleaning his cock and putting it back inside his pants. He cover your body with his jacket and slowly pick you up princess style, getting ready to go to his bedroom. He took a glance at the flower. It has closed itself up.

He made a mental note that after the sex, the air is damp which might explain the flower closing again because the flower has a detection towards temperature. The hotter it is the better.

Alhaitham brings you to his house as he slowly prepared a food for you. All he need to do now is wait for you to wake up and the he could explain everything.