#meis triumph

[littleeyesofpallas]

[ljxlj48]

My Duty As Princess

Chapter 1

Lee Jeno x fem reader

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, epilogue

Genre: arranged marriage au! royalty au!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 15K

Author's Note: Is it stupid to be posting this again? I have already done a rewrite of this story once and now i'm posting another rewrite? idk if this doesn't go well I guess i can always delete it. I also have started taking down some other stories, mainly because they horrifically bad, like it was just bad writing lol. I also want to redo all my work posted on here, but that's gonna take time. So we'll start with this story again lol. hugs and kisses to anyone reading <3

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The journey from the northern airstrip to the Northcy palace was grueling: a ten-hour flight followed by an hour-long car ride. By the time Princess (Y/n) arrived at Norhall Palace, it was the middle of the night. The grand halls of the palace were eerily quiet, and the only ones there to greet her were queen Jaeyeon and four maids. The lack of fanfare was a stark reminder of the tension that still lingered between the two kingdoms.

“My dear, you must be exhausted,” the queen said warmly, though her tone carried a regal authority. “Please, come inside.” The queen was a striking figure—tall, slim, and impeccably dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit paired with a flowing white coat that brushed the floor. A delicate silver crown rested atop her head, but her presence alone would have been enough to command respect. She carried herself with the grace and poise of someone born to rule, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. With a gentle wave of her hand, she led the princess and her entourage inside.

The queen and her maids escorted (Y/n) to her chambers. “You may freshen up,” the queen said, her voice calm but firm. “When you’re ready, one of the handmaids will inform me. I’ll ensure you’re served a proper meal before you rest.” Her words were polite, but there was an underlying formality that reminded (Y/n) of the delicate situation she was in.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” (Y/n) replied with a respectful bow, masking her unease. As the queen left, (Y/n)’s two maids helped her undress and prepared the bath, while two of the queen’s maids stayed to assist. Outside the chamber doors, two guards stood watch, their presence a silent reminder that, until the marriage was finalized, she was still in enemy territory.

After her bath, the princess stood before an ornate mirror, her reflection staring back at her with a hollow expression. Her thoughts drifted to home as her maids, Fei and Mei, moved quietly around her, helping her dress. The twins had been by her side for as long as she could remember. Though they looked nearly identical—with the same sharp features, dark hair, and graceful movements—their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Fei was practical and no-nonsense, her hands steady and her words few, while Mei was warm and talkative, always quick with a reassuring smile or a gentle joke. Both were only a few years older than the princess, and they had become her maids when she was just ten years old. Over the years, they had grown into more than just servants; they were her confidantes, her protectors, and the closest thing she had to real friends. They had been there for her through every triumph and every hardship, and now, even in this foreign palace, their presence was a small comfort in an otherwise unbearable situation.

The queen herself escorted the princess to the dining hall, her steps measured and deliberate, as though every movement was calculated to remind the princess of her place. The hall was vast and cold, its high ceilings and ornate decorations doing little to dispel the suffocating sense of isolation that clung to the air. A single long table dominated the room, but only one place was set—a stark, unspoken reminder that the princess was alone in this foreign palace, surrounded by strangers who saw her as little more than a political tool.

“Please, enjoy this meal before you retire for the evening,” the queen said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of authority. The meal before (Y/n) was lavish: roasted meats glistening with glaze, steaming vegetables arranged like works of art, and freshly baked bread still warm from the oven, all served on fine bone china plates. Yet, the opulence felt like a cruel joke, a blatant display of excess that only highlighted the suffering of her people. How could she sit here and eat while her kingdom starved?

“I shall have meals prepared for your maids and guards in the servants’ hall,” the queen added, her tone dismissive, as though the matter were already settled.

The princess turned sharply to face the queen, her voice firm despite the knot of anger tightening in her chest. “They can dine with me.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “It is not proper, Princess (Y/n).”

The princess opened her mouth to argue, to fire back with another sharp retort, but a subtle movement caught her eye. Fei, standing silently nearby, gave the slightest shake of her head. Her eyes, steady and unwavering, reminded the princess of the delicate balance she had to maintain. Listen. Follow. Obey. The words echoed in (Y/n)’s mind, a bitter pill she had no choice but to swallow.

“You are right, Your Majesty,” the princess said, lowering her head slightly in a gesture of respect that felt like a betrayal of her own pride. “I apologize.”

The queen watched her carefully, her gaze sharp and assessing, as though she were weighing the princess’s every word and gesture. “I have made arrangements for your maids in the servants’ quarters,” she continued, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “And your guards will stay with the other soldiers in the dormitory.”

(Y/n) forced a polite smile, though it felt like a mask cracking under the strain. “I thank you, Your Majesty, for your hospitality,” she said, bowing again, the motion stiff and unnatural.

“I hope you rest well, Princess,” the queen replied, her voice firm and final. With that, she turned and left, her entourage trailing behind her like shadows. The princess stood frozen for a moment, watching them go, before finally sinking into the chair at the head of the table.

Alone in the cavernous hall, (Y/n) picked at her meal, her stomach churning with a mix of hunger and dread. The silence pressed in on her, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware against the bone china, a sound that seemed to echo endlessly in the empty room. Her mind raced, torn between anger and fear. Anger at her parents for forcing her into this arrangement, anger at Northcy for its role in her people’s suffering, and anger at herself for feeling so powerless. Fear, too, gnawed at her, fraying her nerves. Fear of what the future held, fear of the man she was being forced to marry, and fear that all of this—her sacrifice, her pain—would ultimately be in vain.

She stared at the food before her, her appetite gone. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the table, mirroring the darkness creeping into her thoughts. She clenched her fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. This isn’t fair, she thought, the words burning in her mind like a mantra. But fairness had no place in this world, and she knew it. All she could do was endure—for her people, for her kingdom, for the slim hope that this marriage might bring them peace.

-

As the queen made her way to her chambers, she found her son pacing restlessly outside her doors. His hands were clenched into fists, and his expression was a mix of frustration and defiance. “My boy,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “it’s very late. You should be asleep.”

“Mother,” Jeno said, stopping abruptly. He turned to her maids, his tone sharp. “Leave us.” The maids hesitated, glancing at the queen for permission. With a slight nod, the queen dismissed them, and they retreated down the hall.

Once they were alone, Jeno followed his mother into her room, his agitation palpable. He moved to the tea set on the side table, pouring a cup for his mother with practiced ease, though his movements were stiff with tension. The queen sat gracefully, watching him with a knowing gaze as he began to speak.

“Do you truly expect me to marry that girl, Mother?” Jeno asked, his voice rising slightly. “An alliance could be negotiated without marriage. She offers nothing of value to our kingdom or our family. There are plenty of women within the council—women of influence, women who understand our ways—who would make far better brides.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I barely want to marry at all, let alone to a stranger. You can’t seriously think this is good for anyone.”

The queen sipped her tea, her expression unreadable. Jeno’s complaints were not unexpected, but they still grated on her patience. She remembered Princess (Y/n) well—a sharp, observant child she had met years ago during a summit to discuss the war. The girl had been no older than nine or ten at the time, but even then, she had carried herself with a quiet dignity and wisdom far beyond her years. The queen had seen something in her then, something that had stayed with her ever since. (Y/n) was only three years younger than Jeno, and the queen had no doubt that she would grow into a formidable leader. Marrying her was not just a political move; it was an opportunity to unite two kingdoms under a shared vision.

“I do expect you to marry her,” the queen said, her voice steady but firm. “And I do believe she will be great—not only for our family but for Northcy as well. So, I expect you to be up early tomorrow, eager to meet the princess and make a good impression.”

Jeno stared at her, disbelief etched across his face. “Mother, you can’t be serious. You want me to wine and dine Princess (Y/n)? The stubborn, headstrong princess who doesn’t even care about her own title? She’s not exactly the type to play along with your plans.”

The queen set her teacup down with deliberate precision, her gaze sharpening. “I am entirely serious, Crown Prince Lee Jeno,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “And I expect you to be at breakfast tomorrow, prepared to meet your future bride. There will be no complaints, no resistance, and no disrespect. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeno flinched at the use of his full title. He knew what it meant when his mother addressed him so formally—he had crossed a line, and there was no room for negotiation. He clenched his jaw, his pride warring with his sense of duty. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, Mother,” he said grudgingly. “You’ve made yourself clear.”

“Very well,” the queen said, standing to signal the end of the conversation. “Good night, my son.”

Jeno bowed slightly, his movements stiff with suppressed frustration, before turning to leave. As he walked out, the queen watched him go, her expression softening for a moment. She knew this was not easy for him, but she also knew it was necessary. Jeno was young and impulsive, but he would learn in time. And Princess (Y/n)—well, she was exactly the kind of woman who could challenge him, temper him, and help him grow into the king he was meant to be. The queen only hoped Jeno would see that before it was too late.

-

The sun rose bright and early, casting a golden glow over the Northcy palace courtyard. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Princess (Y/n) made her way to the pavilion where breakfast was set, her small entourage trailing behind her. Fei and Mei, her twin maids, walked a few steps behind, their movements synchronized and unobtrusive. Though identical in appearance—both with sharp features, dark hair pinned neatly back, and hands clasped respectfully in front of them—their personalities were worlds apart. Fei’s expression was calm and composed, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential threat, while Mei’s softer demeanor showed in the way she occasionally glanced at the princess with quiet concern.

Leading the way were the princess’s two personal guards, Chan and Hyunjin. Chan, the older of the two, walked with a confident stride, his broad shoulders and steady gaze making it clear he took his duty seriously. His uniform, though immaculate, bore subtle signs of wear—a testament to the years he’d spent protecting the princess. Hyunjin, taller and more lithe, moved with a graceful precision, his sharp eyes darting around as if expecting danger at every turn. Both guards refused to leave the princess’s side, their loyalty unwavering even in this foreign palace. Despite the alliance between the kingdoms, old grudges and lingering tensions made them wary. They knew better than to let their guard down.

“People will gossip if you two don’t leave me be,” the princess said, her voice light but tinged with exasperation as they approached the pavilion. Her lips curving into a faint smile, as Chan glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to breakfast without an armed escort.”

Chan’s expression remained serious, though there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he met her gaze. “My princess,” he said, his voice low but firm, turning to face forward again, “we’d be executed if anything happened to you. Following you wherever you go is the best way to ensure that doesn’t happen.” His tone left no room for argument, though the princess knew it came from a place of deep loyalty—and something more. Chan had joined the army at 18, risen to become her personal guard by 20, and somewhere along the way, his devotion had deepened into something unspoken. At 24, he was as much her protector as he was her friend, though neither of them dared to acknowledge the unspoken tension between them.

Hyunjin, ever the pragmatist, added with a smirk as he too glanced back at the princess, “Besides, who else is going to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet?” The princess shot him a mock glare, though the corners of her lips twitched upward. The banter was familiar, a small comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar place.

Fei and Mei exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing, their loyalty to the princess evident in the way they adjusted her shawl or smoothed a stray strand of hair without being asked. The five of them—princess, maids, and guards—had spent the past three years practically inseparable. They were more than an entourage; they were a family, bound by duty and shared experiences. The princess was rarely alone, save for the quiet moments in the dead of night when sleep finally claimed her.

As they reached the pavilion, the queen rose gracefully from her seat, her presence commanding immediate attention. Dressed in a flowing gown of deep emerald green, her silver crown catching the morning light, she exuded an air of regal authority. Her sharp eyes softened slightly as they landed on the princess.

“Princess (Y/n),” the queen called, her voice warm but carrying an undercurrent of formality. “Come, dear. Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair beside her, then glanced at the princess’s entourage. “You may dismiss your guards and handmaids. They can take their meal in the servants’ hall.”

The princess hesitated, her gaze flickering to Chan and Hyunjin, who stood like statues at her sides. She opened her mouth to protest, but Fei’s subtle shake of her head stopped her. The queen’s tone, though polite, left no room for negotiation. With a small nod, the princess turned to her guards and maids. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gratitude and reassurance. “I’ll be fine.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, but he bowed slightly. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Hyunjin gave a curt nod, his sharp eyes lingering on the queen for a moment before he turned to follow Fei and Mei as they retreated.

The princess took her seat, her posture straight and her expression composed, though her hands clenched subtly in her lap. The queen’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, assessing, before she smiled and gestured to the lavish spread before them. “I hope you’re hungry, my dear. We have much to discuss.”

Breakfast passed in a blur for the princess. She spoke only when spoken to, and even then, her answers were brief and measured. The king, seated at the head of the table, was a striking figure—tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that bore the weight of years of ruling. His silver-streaked hair and sharp, calculating eyes gave him an air of authority, but his demeanor was reserved, almost distant. Though he was polite, his kindness felt formal, lacking the warmth of true welcome. The end of the war had not erased decades of tension, and the king had more pressing concerns than making small talk with his future daughter-in-law. Between planning the wedding and solidifying the fragile alliance between the two kingdoms, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Jeno, seated across from the princess, was uncharacteristically quiet. He picked at his food, his usual confidence replaced by a tense silence. It was clear he didn’t want to risk angering his mother, whose sharp glances in his direction were enough to keep him in line. An outburst from Jeno would only provoke his father, and no one at the table wanted to witness the king’s temper. The queen, ever the diplomat, tried to steer the conversation, her voice light and encouraging as she asked questions and made comments to fill the awkward silences. But her efforts fell flat, met with stiff replies and forced smiles. The meal dragged on, the clink of silverware against porcelain echoing in the heavy air, a stark reminder of the unresolved tensions simmering beneath the surface.

When the king finished his meal, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The sudden movement prompted everyone else at the table to rise as well. “I have pressing matters to attend to,” the king said, his voice clipped and formal. He turned to the princess, his expression softening slightly, though his tone remained distant. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess (Y/n). I look forward to getting to know you better.” He gave a brief nod in her direction, a gesture of respect that felt more obligatory than genuine.

The princess responded with a graceful, deep bow, her movements precise and regal. The queen and Jeno followed suit, bowing their heads as the king strode out of the room, his presence lingering like a shadow even after he was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind his father, Jeno seized the opportunity to escape. “I also have matters to attend to,” he said curtly, already turning to leave. His tone was dismissive, his body language tense, as if he couldn’t wait to put distance between himself and the awkwardness of the breakfast table.

But before he could take more than a step, the queen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Jeno,” she called, her tone firm but not unkind. She paused, letting the weight of her words settle, before adding, “You should show the princess around.” Her voice softened slightly, though the underlying expectation was clear. This wasn’t a suggestion—it was a command.

Jeno froze, his back still turned to the table. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, but then he exhaled sharply and turned back around, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Mother,” he said, though the reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

“Jeno can show you around the palace,” the queen said, wearing a tight smile.  Silently hoping that none of this will be in vain.  “It will help you become more familiar with the palace and with the prince.”  

“Yes, your Majesty,” the princess said in the most neutral tone.  The princess bowed again this time to the queen, before she turned to follow after Jeno.  

The princess followed a few steps behind Prince Jeno as he led her through the palace, his gestures half-hearted as he pointed out random objects and rooms. “That’s a vase from the southern region,” he said, barely glancing at the ornate piece. “And over there’s a painting of some ancestor no one remembers.” His tone was dismissive, his words clipped, as if he were going through the motions of a chore he deeply resented.

Jeno’s appearance didn’t help the awkwardness. He wore a simple pair of black dress pants and a light blue button-up shirt, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows. His black hair was tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed, and his overall demeanor suggested he’d rather be anywhere else. The princess, in contrast, walked with her usual poise, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her expression calm but guarded.

They eventually entered a room that could only be the palace library. It was breathtaking, like something out of a storybook—walls lined with books from floor to ceiling, their spines a patchwork of colors and languages. The air smelled faintly of aged paper and wood polish, and the quiet hum of the space felt almost sacred. The princess couldn’t help but drift toward the shelves, her fingers lightly tracing the spines of the books. Some were written in an ancient Modian script, a language so old it was nearly forgotten. The sight of it stirred something in her, a connection to her homeland that felt both comforting and painful.

Jeno leaned against a nearby table, watching her with a mix of curiosity and irritation. “You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, as if he were testing her.

The princess paused, her hand still resting on a book. “I was raised to only speak when spoken to,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but firm. “My father was… keen on traditions.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Traditions?” he echoed, his tone laced with mockery. “Something like women are only meant to be child-bearers?”

The princess stiffened, her hand dropping from the shelf. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. It was no secret that the Modia royals were deeply traditional, but the way Jeno said it—with that casual, almost mocking tone—felt like a deliberate jab. She held his gaze for a moment, the tension between them thickening, before she replied, her voice steady but carrying a quiet challenge. “Traditions can be… complicated. But they don’t define everyone who follows them.”

Jeno’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, he looked almost surprised. The awkward silence returned, heavier than before, as the two of them stood there, the weight of their roles and the expectations placed upon them hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

The rest of the tour was met with silence; Jeno continued to point out things to the princess, though she didn’t respond nor show any interest.  Jeno led her back to her chambers and bid her a farewell until the evening meal.  

The prince wanted to smack himself for his comment.  His mouth was moving faster than his brain at that moment.  He didn’t want to make such a horrible first impression, but it seems the damage has already been done.  

After the doors closed, separating the princess and prince.  The princess couldn’t help but let out the most exasperated sigh, the usual regal composure slipping away.  As she sunk down onto the couch that laid out in the front room.  Fei and Mei had already been in the room, preparing clothing for the evening meal. They exchanged a quick glance, noticing the tension in their mistress.  

“How was the tour, Your Highness?” Mei asked cautiously as she set down the tea tray in front of the princess on the coffee table.  

The princess groaned, sitting up to face her maids.  “Awkward.  Infuriating.  Take your pick.”  The princess picked up the cup, sipping the tea as her brows furrowed.  She thought back to the prince’s comments.  “Prince Jeno is truly…insufferable.  He made no effort to give a proper tour.”  The princess set down her cup, her posture straightening, “which was fine, I did not want to be with him either.”  She huffed, “but then he decides to speak to me and to what?  To mock me.” 

Fei, who had been folding a shawl, paused and turned to face the princess, her sharp eyes narrowing.  “Mock you, Your Highness?” 

The princess sighed, “he made a comment about Modian traditions–asking if women were only meant to bear children.”  The princess looked down at her lap for a moment, before returning Fei’s gaze.  “Could you imagine, me, reduced to nothing more than someone that bears children.” 

The princess stood up from her seat, her face harding with resolve.  “I will not be reduced to just his bride.” 

“Of course not, Your Highness,” Fei spoke with the same resolve clear in her tone.  “You are far more than just his bride.  Your strength, Your intelligence, your dedication to your people… these are things he cannot take from you.” 

“I know,”  the princess said, as she felt a tear slide down her cheek.  How she desperately missed home.  How she desperately wanted out of this marriage, this alliance, this palace, this country.  Only a day here and she could feel it building up in her.  Her disdain would drown her, if she didn’t find a way to win.  “But I feel so alone.  I feel so helpless.” 

“You’re not alone your highness,” Mei spoke softly, moving to stand with the princess. “We are right here and we’ll be right here, always.” Both girls looked at the princess, as they stood with her.  Silent reminders that the princess is not alone.  

“Thank you both,” the princess said with a smile.  “You two will be the only people to ensure I remain sane.”  

“Who says you’re sane now?” Mei asked, with a smirk, causing the princess to scoff.  Her smile growing as the tension begins to ease.  

“You best bathe before dinner,” Fei spoke up.  The princess simply nodded her head, a bath at this time sounded nice.  As the maids helped her prepare for the evening meal, the princess felt a flicker of reassurance.  No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she wouldn’t face them alone. And that night as she lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling above, she made a silent vow: she would not let Jeno—or anyone—define her worth. She was a princess, a future queen, and she would rise above this, no matter how difficult the path might be.

-

After her arrival the days began to blur together as winter approached, its icy grip tightening on the Northcy Kingdom. A month had already passed since the princess arrived, and the once-mild chill in the air had deepened into a biting cold. Being so far north, the kingdom was no stranger to harsh winters, and soon the landscape would be blanketed in snow—a phenomenon the princess had never experienced. Coming from Modia, a tropical paradise where the sun kissed the earth year-round, she had initially been excited at the prospect of seeing snow for the first time. But now, as the temperature dropped, she found herself shivering under layers of wool and fur, unprepared for the relentless cold that seeped into her bones.

The princess’s days were filled with a whirlwind of duties, as were Jeno’s. As Crown Prince, Jeno was already an active member of the council, immersed in the intricacies of governance and statecraft. His role required him to understand every facet of ruling before he could ascend the throne, and his days were a relentless cycle of meetings, debates, and paperwork. The princess, meanwhile, was tasked with familiarizing herself with her new home. She spent hours with the queen, learning about the kingdom’s departments, its noble families, and the labyrinthine politics of the Northcy court. It was a stark contrast to the Modian system she had grown up with.

In Modia, the council consisted of ten high houses, though only three held real power. The other seven were little more than figureheads, their influence symbolic at best. Northcy, however, was a different beast entirely. Jeno’s future council would include eighteen noble families, a royal advisor, two “special members” whose roles were unclear, and a general who held two votes—a detail that baffled the princess. The terminology alone was overwhelming. What Modia called “high houses,” Northcy referred to as “noble families.” The sheer volume of information was staggering, and the princess found herself buried under endless stacks of papers, trying to memorize names, titles, and alliances. The queen, ever gracious, guided her through it all, explaining that it was her duty as queen to oversee the budgets and entertain the noble families—a responsibility the princess would soon inherit.

Despite their shared obligations, the princess and Jeno rarely crossed paths. Their interactions were limited to formal evening meals with the king and queen, where conversation was polite but strained. Jeno was often quiet, his attention divided between his food and his thoughts, while the princess maintained her composure, speaking only when addressed. The tension between them was palpable, a silent reminder of the forced nature of their union.  The princess began to wonder if this is all her life in Northcy would amount to. Endless studies and forced meals with the man that was supposed to be her husband. 

One evening, as the family gathered for dinner, the queen broke the silence with a surprising suggestion. “Jeno,” she said, her tone light but deliberate, “why don’t you introduce (Y/n) to your brothers tomorrow?”

Jeno nearly choked on his drink, his eyes widening in surprise. The princess, too, was taken aback. In all her years of studying Northcy’s history and politics, she had never heard mention of Jeno having brothers. The official records stated clearly that King Lee Donghae and Queen Lee Jaeyeon had only one child: Crown Prince Lee Jeno. The queen’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

“Very well, Mother,” Jeno replied after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. He avoided the princess’s gaze, his expression unreadable.

The princess’s mind raced. Brothers? How was it possible that Jeno had siblings, and why had they never been mentioned before? The Northcy court was already a maze of secrets and power struggles, and this revelation only added to the mystery. She glanced at the queen, who was calmly sipping her tea, her face betraying nothing. The king, seated at the head of the table, remained silent, his sharp eyes fixed on his plate.

As the meal continued, the princess found herself unable to focus on the conversation. Her thoughts were consumed by questions about Jeno’s brothers—who they were, why they had been kept hidden, and what their existence meant for her future. The differences between Modia and Northcy had never felt more pronounced. In Modia, transparency was valued, and the royal family’s lineage was a matter of public record. Here, in Northcy, it seemed that even the most basic truths could be shrouded in secrecy.

The princess’s unease grew as she realized just how little she truly knew about the kingdom she was about to call home—and the family she was about to marry into.

When dinner ended, Jeno rose abruptly from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor. The sound cut through the lingering silence like a blade. “Princess,” he said, his voice firm and carrying an edge that demanded attention, “allow me to escort you back to your chambers.” His face was a mask of neutrality, carefully composed, but his eyes betrayed him. They burned with something unspoken—anger, regret, or perhaps a flicker of vulnerability. If only the princess could decipher the storm behind those dark, piercing eyes.

“Of course,” the princess replied, her tone calm and measured as she stood, offering a graceful bow to the queen before following Jeno. She kept a few steps behind him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her posture regal even in the face of his abruptness.

The queen watched them leave, her gaze lingering on the doorway long after they had disappeared. A small, hopeful smile touched her lips. Perhaps this was the beginning of something real. Perhaps her son was finally starting to accept the weight of this alliance, this union that would bind their kingdoms together. She dared to hope that he was growing up, even if just a little.

As the princess followed Jeno through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, she noticed something was amiss. He had taken a wrong turn—one that led away from her chambers. “Your Highness,” she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “This isn’t the way to my quarters.”

“Indulge me,” Jeno replied curtly, not bothering to look back. His tone left no room for argument, and though the princess’s instincts warned her to tread carefully, she followed him nonetheless. She had learned to pick her battles, and this was not one worth fighting—yet.

Finally, Jeno stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface carved with intricate patterns of vines and crests. He pushed it open and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter first. The princess hesitated for a moment before stepping through the threshold, her breath catching as she took in the sight before her.

The grand hallway stretched endlessly, its polished marble floors gleaming under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that hung like frozen stars from the vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined with towering portraits, each framed in ornate gilded wood that shimmered like liquid gold in the warm light. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and the faintest hint of oil paint, a testament to the centuries of history preserved within these walls. It was a gallery of power, of legacy, of secrets.

The princess’s eyes were drawn to the portrait closest to the door. It was a stunning piece, the brushstrokes capturing every detail with breathtaking precision. The subject was a young boy, no older than eleven or twelve, with dark black hair that contrasted sharply against his pale skin. His eyes, though painted, seemed to hold a depth of emotion that transcended the canvas. The princess stared at the portrait, her heart skipping a beat as she realized who it depicted. It was Jeno—Jeno as a child.

She turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the portrait, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken words.

“My brother’s portrait used to hang here,” Jeno said finally, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. He still didn’t look at her, his eyes locked on the painting of his younger self. “It was a portrait of his mother holding him as a baby. It hung here for years, a reminder of his place in this family. Until the council decided he wasn’t good enough to be the heir.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “They decided I should be Crown Prince instead. Not because I was the oldest son of the king. No, because I was the only son of the queen—the true queen.”

The princess’s breath caught in her throat, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on Jeno as he continued.

“Do you want to know how old my brother was when they stripped him of his future?” Jeno’s voice cracked with anger, though he kept it tightly controlled. “Fifteen. Fifteen years old, and they told him he would never be king—not because of anything he did, but because of who his mother was.”

“Your Highness,” the princess began, her voice soft but steady, though she wasn’t sure what to say. How could she respond to such raw pain, such anger?

Jeno finally turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Tomorrow, we’ll have lunch with my brothers. And then, Princess, you’ll understand why I can’t forgive the council for what they did.”

The princess nodded slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t know what to expect, but one thing was clear: the Northcy court was far more complicated—and far more dangerous—than she had ever imagined.

-

The next morning, the princess’s thoughts were consumed by Jeno’s revelation. Three brothers. How could she have spent an entire month in the palace without ever seeing or hearing about them? They had never joined the family for meals, never appeared in the halls, never been mentioned in passing. It was as if they didn’t exist—and yet, Jeno had spoken of them with such raw emotion. The mystery gnawed at her, making it impossible to focus as her maids helped her prepare for lunch.

“The prince said he has three brothers,” the princess murmured, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Fei knelt at her feet, lacing up her boots, while Mei stood behind her, tying the delicate bow at the back of her dress. “Three. And I’ve never even seen them.”

“You mentioned this last night, Your Highness,” Mei said gently, her fingers deftly securing the bow. “And again this morning.”

“And early this afternoon,” Fei added, glancing up briefly before returning to her task. “You’ve been… preoccupied.”

The princess sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I know. But he didn’t say much—just that there are three of them. He only talked about his oldest brother, how he was stripped of his title at fifteen by the council. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mei said softly, her tone tinged with sympathy. “You’ve told us.”

The princess blinked, turning to look at her maids. “Have I really talked about it that much?”

Fei nodded, her expression kind but firm. “You have, Your Highness. It’s all you’ve been able to think about since last night.”

The princess turned back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with a furrowed brow. “It’s just… it’s been a month. How could something like this not have come up sooner? How could I not have known?”

Fei stood, brushing off her skirts as she met the princess’s gaze squarely. “Perhaps there’s a reason for that, Your Highness.”

“A reason?” the princess echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. “What reason could there be?”

Fei hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You’ve said it yourself. In all your studies of Northcy, there was no mention of any brothers. Clearly, they were meant to be kept a secret—not from everyone, but from you.”

The princess’s breath caught, the realization hitting her like a cold wave. “Because I’m still the enemy to them,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll always be the enemy to them.”

“We’ve been enemies for nearly a century, Your Highness,” Mei said gently, stepping forward to adjust the princess’s sleeve. “It’s going to take more than learning their ways to move forward. Trust isn’t built overnight.”

Before the princess could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room, cutting through the heavy silence. All three women turned toward the door, their movements freezing for a moment. The princess’s heart quickened. It had to be Jeno, coming to escort her to lunch. The moment she had been both dreading and anticipating had arrived.

Fei and Mei exchanged a quick glance before Mei stepped forward to open the door. The princess straightened her posture, smoothing her dress and lifting her chin. Whatever awaited her at lunch, she would face it with the grace and poise expected of a princess. But as the door creaked open, revealing Jeno’s tall, imposing figure, she couldn’t shake the unease that coiled in her stomach. The secrets of the Northcy court were beginning to unravel, and she had a feeling that lunch would only bring more questions than answers.

The prince stood on the other side of the door, his expression unreadable, his posture stiff. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt tucked into black tailored pants, his attire simple yet commanding. His thoughts churned, a storm of doubt and reluctance. Is this the right time? he wondered. Should she really meet them now?  He understood the necessity of the princess becoming acquainted with his family, but this felt too soon, too personal. It was as if she were stepping into a part of his life he wasn’t ready to share—a part he had kept guarded for years.

“Shall we, Princess?” Jeno’s voice was cool, detached. He didn’t step into the room, didn’t cross the threshold. Instead, he remained in the hallway, maintaining a deliberate distance, as if to remind her—and himself—that this was merely duty, not choice.

The princess didn’t bother with a verbal response. Instead, she offered a graceful bow, her movements fluid and regal, before stepping out of the room. Her maids lingered behind, their eyes following her with quiet concern. As she joined Jeno in the hallway, Chan and Hyunjin fell into step behind her, their presence a silent but unwavering reminder of their loyalty.

Jeno noticed them immediately. He turned, his sharp gaze flickering to the guards trailing the princess. “You can dismiss your guards, Princess,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “They don’t need to escort you to lunch. I can handle that.”

The princess stopped,  the heels of her boots clicking softly against the marble floor. She turned to look at Chan and Hyunjin, her protectors. Chan’s jaw was clenched, his hands flexing at his sides as if ready to draw a weapon at a moment’s notice. Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze locked on Jeno, assessing him like a threat. The princess had to suppress a smirk. Her guards didn’t trust easily, and they certainly didn’t trust Jeno.

“I think it gives them peace of mind to follow, Your Highness,” the princess said, her voice calm but laced with steel. She tipped her head slightly, a gesture of respect that wasn’t quite genuine. “If you don’t mind, I would like them to stay.”

Jeno studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “It is your decision, Princess,” he said, his tone clipped.

The words stung, though Jeno hadn’t intended them to. Her decision? When had anything ever been her decision? From the moment this alliance was proposed, her life had been dictated by others—her parents, the council, the queen. Even now, as she stood in this foreign palace, she was a pawn in a game she hadn’t chosen to play. The bitterness of it burned in her chest, but she kept her face composed, her posture regal. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here, not now.

“Shall we?” Jeno repeated, gesturing down the hall with a sweep of his hand. His tone was polite, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. He was as uncomfortable with this as she was, and that knowledge gave her a small, grim satisfaction.

The princess nodded, falling into step beside him. Chan and Hyunjin followed a few paces behind, their presence a silent but potent reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in this. As they walked, the weight of Jeno’s words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. Her decision. The irony of it was almost too much to bear. But for now, she would play her part, even if it meant stepping further into a world that seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length.

When they arrived at the dining hall, Jeno placed a hand lightly on the small of the princess’s back, guiding her toward the table with a formality that felt performative and distant. Chan and Hyunjin remained at the entrance, their sharp eyes scanning the room as they took up their positions. They were close enough to watch but too far to hear much, a deliberate arrangement that left the princess feeling both guarded and exposed.

As they approached the table, Jeno began the introductions, his tone clipped but polite. The first to rise was the oldest brother, Taeyong. He was tall and lean, with a striking handsomeness that commanded attention. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes gave him an air of authority, but his smile—wide and almost childlike—softened his presence, making him seem approachable despite his imposing stature. “This is Taeyong,” Jeno said, his voice neutral, though the princess noticed the faintest flicker of respect in his eyes.

Next was Mark, the second brother. He was closer in age to Jeno, with pitch-black hair that fell slightly into his round, expressive eyes. His features were softer than Taeyong’s, with small lips that curved into a shy smile as he nodded in greeting. There was a quiet intensity about him, a sharpness in his gaze that suggested he missed very little, even if he chose not to speak much.

Finally, Jeno gestured to the youngest of the three, Donghyuck—or Haechan, as he was often called. His tan skin and round, cherubic face set him apart from his brothers, his puffy cheeks giving him a youthful, almost mischievous appearance. But it was his energy that truly stood out; he radiated a brightness that seemed to light up the room, his smile as warm and inviting as the sun itself. “We call him Haechan,” Jeno explained, his tone softening slightly, “because his personality is as bright as the sun.”

The princess studied each brother in turn, her mind racing to piece together the dynamics of this family. They were so different—in appearance, in demeanor, in the way they carried themselves—and yet there was an undeniable bond that tied them together. She could feel the weight of their shared history, the unspoken tensions and loyalties that shaped their interactions. This was more than just a family; it was a puzzle, one she was only beginning to unravel.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the princess, repeating her bow as always.  She could hear the faintest chuckles as she moved. 

“Jeno,” Haechan whined, “don’t make her perform such formal greetings.” 

The prince could feel the heat of irritation rise through him. He was not making the princess perform anything. 

“Princess (y/n), you don’t need to be so formal. It’s just lunch with family,” Taeyong spoke, his tone light and breezy.  His suggestion felt like a trap to the princess. Something to make her show her cards. A way to get her to prove she isn’t good enough. The princess was all too cautious. “Let’s sit.” 

The prince pulled out the chair for the princess. Although some would think his action was kind, the princess felt the action inauthentic. The prince had just been raised to be a gentleman regardless of feelings. 

The meal carried on with an unexpected ease, the conversation light and filled with stories of their youth. There was no talk of weddings or alliances, no probing questions about the princess’s knowledge of her kingdom or theirs. For the first time since her arrival, the atmosphere felt almost… normal. Like a simple lunch between brothers, free from the weight of politics and expectations.

The princess watched Jeno closely, struck by the change in him. In all the meals they had shared, she had never seen him smile—not truly. But here, surrounded by his brothers, his demeanor shifted entirely. His usual guardedness melted away, replaced by a warmth and ease she hadn’t thought him capable of. The difference was stark, almost jarring. It was as if she were seeing a completely different person.

“Princess,” Haechan’s voice cut through the laughter, pulling her from her thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, his bright eyes curious. “Do you have any siblings?”

The question hit her like a physical blow. Her utensils slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against her plate. The sound echoed in the sudden silence that fell over the table. The princess felt the color drain from her face, her hands trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. The memories rushed in unbidden—her sister’s laughter, her brother’s mischievous grin, the emptiness that had followed their loss.

“Haechan,” Taeyong’s voice was sharp, a low growl that carried the weight of authority. He didn’t need to say more; the name alone was a reprimand. Haechan immediately shrank back, his cheerful demeanor faltering under his brother’s stern gaze.

“I did,” the princess said finally, her voice soft but steady. She stared down at her plate, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look up, meeting Haechan’s apologetic gaze. “They have passed.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of her words settling over the table like a shroud. Taeyong was the first to speak, his tone measured and diplomatic, though his eyes held a flicker of genuine sympathy. “We are sorry for your loss, Princess.”

Jeno, who had been unusually quiet, spoke next, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had a sister,” he admitted, his words surprising even himself. It was a part of his past he rarely acknowledged, a wound he kept carefully hidden. “She too passed.” His eyes met the princess’s, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between them—a shared understanding of grief, of loss, of the scars that war leaves behind.

The princess held his gaze for a heartbeat longer before turning back to the table, forcing a small, fragile smile. “Please,” she said, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of pleading, “let us discuss happier things.”

Taeyong nodded, his expression softening as he offered her a reassuring smile. But beneath his calm exterior, his thoughts churned. He knew about the princess’s siblings. He knew how they had died—during the war, likely as a result of his own campaigns. As the general of the Northcy army, he had overseen countless battles, each one leaving its mark on both sides. The irony wasn’t lost on him; here he sat, sharing a meal with the woman whose family he had helped tear apart, all in the name of an alliance that was supposed to bring peace.

The meal resumed, the conversation gradually returning to lighter topics, but the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the fragile threads holding this alliance together. The princess’s smile never quite reached her eyes, and Jeno’s laughter felt forced, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them both. For all the warmth and camaraderie at the table, the shadows of the past were never far away.

As the meal drew to a close, the brothers exchanged their final remarks, the warmth of their camaraderie filling the room. Taeyong stood abruptly when his phone buzzed, his expression tightening as he glanced at the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping away to take the call. When he returned, his face was clouded with irritation. “I have to leave,” he announced, his tone clipped. “There’s an issue at the stables that needs my attention.”

“Let us come with you,” Haechan suggested eagerly, already on his feet. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “We can take a ride after you sort it out. It’s been ages since we’ve all ridden together.”

Mark nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. “The first snow is supposed to fall today,” he added. “It was our tradition to ride during the first snowfall.”

Jeno, who had been quietly observing, stood as well. “It would be nice, Taeyong,” he said softly, his voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. The princess watched the exchange, struck by how much the brothers seemed to cherish these moments together. It was clear they didn’t get to spend much time as a family anymore.

Taeyong hesitated, his brow furrowed as he weighed the request. “I’m not sure…” he began, but Haechan cut him off, his voice tinged with playful whining.

“You never see us anymore,” Haechan said, pouting slightly. The princess noticed how Taeyong’s stern expression softened at his younger brother’s words.

Mark stepped closer, his head tilted in a gesture of quiet pleading. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something together, Taeyong,” he said, his tone gentle but insistent.

Taeyong sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he relented. “Fine,” he said, though his voice still carried a note of caution. “But no promises that this situation will be resolved quickly.”

The brothers’ faces lit up at his agreement, their smiles bright and genuine. The princess couldn’t help but feel a pang of warmth at the sight. It was a rare, heartwarming moment, one that reminded her of the family she had lost.

As the brothers began to gather their things, the princess stood, preparing to excuse herself. She dipped into a deep bow, her voice soft but formal. “It was a pleasure to dine with you all—”

“You’re not leaving now, are you?” Haechan interrupted, his tone incredulous as he turned to face her.

The princess felt a flush rise to her cheeks, caught off guard by his directness. “I… yes,” she stammered, unsure how to respond.

“You have to come with us,” Haechan insisted, his enthusiasm undimmed. “We’re going horseback riding. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know how to ride,” the princess admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan waved off her concern with a grin. “It’s fine—you can ride with me,” he said, reaching out to take her arm. Before she could protest, he had linked her arm with his, pulling her gently but firmly toward the stables.

The princess stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his forwardness. She glanced at Haechan, searching for some explanation for his behavior, but he simply looked happy—genuinely, uncomplicatedly happy. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time, and it left her momentarily speechless.

Jeno, however, was far from pleased. He watched the interaction with a growing sense of unease, his jaw tightening as Haechan led the princess away. He didn’t like the idea of her being dragged into this—into his life, his family’s traditions. It felt like an intrusion, a boundary being crossed too soon. And he especially didn’t like how Haechan had handled it, pulling her along without a thought for her comfort or consent. It was disrespectful, and it grated on him more than he cared to admit.

As the group made their way to the stables, Jeno lingered behind, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and resentment. He didn’t like any of it—not Haechan’s impulsiveness, not the princess’s presence, and certainly not the way this alliance was forcing him to open parts of his life he’d rather keep closed. But for now, he had no choice but to follow, his steps heavy with reluctance as he trailed behind the others.

Taeyong could see the frustration etched across Jeno’s face as they walked to the stables. It wasn’t hard to miss—the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders were stiff, the storm brewing in his eyes. Taeyong understood why Jeno felt this way. This wasn’t the life Jeno had envisioned for himself. He was angry—angry at the council for forcing this title on him, angry at his parents for forging this alliance, and, deep down, angry at himself for being born into this role. Taeyong wished he could ease his brother’s anger, but he knew Jeno would have to come to terms with his circumstances in his own time. Acceptance wasn’t something Taeyong could force on him, no matter how much he wanted to.

When they arrived at the stables, a man dressed in the crisp uniform of a palace guard approached Taeyong and pulled him aside. The princess watched, along with the other princes, as Taeyong listened intently to what the guard had to say. She didn’t mean to stare so openly, but her curiosity got the better of her. Prince Haechan noticed her focused gaze and leaned closer to her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Wondering who that is, Princess?” Haechan asked, his voice low but playful.

Before he could continue, Jeno cut in sharply, his tone firm. “Haechan.”

Haechan rolled his eyes, unfazed by his brother’s reprimand. “She’s going to find out eventually, Jeno. She’s your fiancée, after all.” He turned back to the princess, ignoring Jeno’s glare. “That’s Johnny,” he explained. “He’s the head palace guard. He oversees all the guards stationed here at the palace.”

The princess listened carefully, grateful for the information. It was rare for someone to offer her insights so freely, and she clung to every word. Still, she felt like she was being handed puzzle pieces without seeing the full picture. “I still don’t understand,” she admitted, her brow furrowing slightly. 

Haechan smirked, a hint of pride in his expression. “Taeyong is the General of the Army. He’s in charge of every guard, soldier, and officer in Northcy. They all report to him.” He paused, letting the information sink in. Slowly, the princess began to connect the dots, though many questions still lingered.

Jeno, however, wasn’t pleased. “Haechan,” he said again, his voice sharper this time. He knew the princess would eventually learn all of this—she was going to be part of the family, after all. But he wasn’t ready to share so much about Northcy, about their family, or about himself. Trust didn’t come easily to him, especially not with someone who still felt like a stranger.

Meanwhile, Taeyong finished his conversation with Johnny and glanced back at his brothers and the princess, who were waiting patiently. Johnny had informed him that some of the palace guards were unhappy about sharing their dormitory with the princess’s guards. Taeyong sighed, his tone firm but calm. “They’ll have to deal with it for now. There’s nowhere else to house them at the moment.”

“I’ll do my best to make them see reason, sir,” Johnny replied, though he knew any complaints would likely fall on deaf ears.

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, dismissing Johnny with a nod. He turned back to the group and gestured to the stable hands to prepare the horses. The princes’ faces lit up at the prospect of riding together, their excitement palpable.

“Princess,” Taeyong called, his voice cutting through the chatter. She looked up at him, her expression attentive. “Tell your guards that we’ll be riding up the trail about half a mile north,” he said, pointing toward a clearing in the distance. “The ride will take about an hour and a half. They can grab lunch while they wait for you.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” the princess replied, bowing slightly. A grateful smile touched her lips as she went to relay the message to Chan and Hyunjin.  Chan didn’t like leaving the princess alone with strangers.  However the princess argued that it was important to build relations with each of the princes and this was a good opportunity.  Chan’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, something the princess was all too aware of.  “I’ll be okay, I promise,” the princess said softly, her words meant to ease Chan’s mind.  

“I’ll kill anyone who hurts you,” Chan said, the sentiment tugging at the princess’s lips to form a smile.  

“I know.” 

“We’ll see you after the ride, your highness,” Hyunjin said, as he and Chan both bowed to the princess before turning to leave.  

The stable hands were busy preparing the horses for the princes. Taeyong’s horse was a majestic white stallion, strong and sturdy, with an air of calm elegance. The moment the horse saw Taeyong, its ears perked up, and it let out a soft whinny of recognition. It was clear the two shared a deep bond. Mark’s horse was a sleek black mare, its coat as dark as midnight, with a proud, regal bearing. Haechan’s horse was a chestnut brown, its coat gleaming in the pale winter sunlight, reflecting its rider’s lively energy.

Jeno’s horse, also white, stood out in a different way. While Taeyong’s horse exuded serenity, Jeno’s had a colder, more distant demeanor—much like Jeno himself. It was a beautiful animal, but there was something guarded about it, as if it mirrored its rider’s emotions.

 The brothers began mounting their horses with practiced ease, their movements smooth and confident. Haechan turned to the princess, a playful grin on his face as he reached out to help her onto his horse. “Ready?” he asked, his tone light and teasing.

But before the princess could respond, Jeno stepped between them, his presence sudden and commanding. “The princess will ride with me,” he said, his voice firm but calm. He didn’t look at Haechan as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the princess instead. There was no room for argument in his tone, though the tension in his shoulders suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the decision himself.

Haechan blinked, surprised, “why? She doesn’t want to ride with you.” 

“People will talk,” Jeno huffed, “if they see her riding with someone who isn’t her fiance, they will talk and we don’t need anyone talking right now.” 

Haechan smirked, stepping back, “very well brother. Apologies princess.” 

The princess hesitated, her eyes flickering between Jeno and Haechan. She wasn’t sure what to make of Jeno’s sudden intervention, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. There was something in his expression—something she couldn’t quite place—that made her nod silently in agreement.

Jeno extended a hand to her, his movements deliberate but not unkind. “Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll help you up.”

The princess took his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she stepped closer to the horse. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the cold air and the distant chatter of the others fading into the background. It was a small moment, but it carried a weight neither of them could fully understand—or perhaps didn’t want to.

“Hold onto this part of the saddle,” Jeno instructed, his voice steady as he guided the princess’s hands to the leather grip. He helped her onto the horse, his hands firm but careful as he gently pushed her into place. The princess settled on the horse, her breath catching as she realized just how high off the ground she was. The horse shifted beneath her, its powerful muscles rippling, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the saddle.

Jeno swung up behind her, his chest pressing lightly against her back as he adjusted his position. The closeness felt strange to the princess—intimate in a way that made her pulse quicken. She wasn’t used to being this near to him, and the warmth of his body against hers was both comforting and unnerving.

“Keep your hands here,” Jeno said, leaning over her shoulder to point to the reins. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he noticed her tense posture. “Don’t tug on this part,” he warned, giving the strap a gentle pull. The horse responded immediately, taking a step forward, and the princess let out a small gasp, her body jolting slightly.

Jeno chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. It was rare to see the princess so unsettled. She was always so composed, so regal, that her reaction was almost refreshing. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, his tone lighter now.

“Are we ready?” Taeyong’s voice cut through the crisp air, commanding attention. He sat tall on his white stallion, his posture every bit the general he was. Without waiting for an answer, he gestured toward the trail. “Let’s go.” His horse moved forward with a graceful stride, leading the way.

Jeno glanced down at the princess. “Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now. She nodded, her grip tightening on the saddle as the horse began to move. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the ground was soothing, but the princess still felt uneasy. Being this close to Jeno, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back, was unfamiliar territory. It felt like they were playing roles in a performance, one without an audience. She couldn’t help but wonder: if they weren’t royals, if they weren’t bound by duty and expectation, could they have been friends? Could they have laughed together like companolns without the weight of an alliance hanging over them?  If they weren’t born to opposite sides of a war, would things between them be different?

“Race to the top?” Haechan’s voice broke through her thoughts, his tone brimming with excitement as they began to climb the trail.

Mark shook his head, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “We can’t. The princess is with us.”

Haechan grinned, undeterred. “You’re only saying that because you know you can’t beat me,” he teased, making exaggerated chicken noises. The absurdity of it caught the princess off guard, and a genuine laugh escaped her lips—a light, melodic sound that surprised even herself.

Jeno stiffened slightly behind her, caught off guard by the sound. He hadn’t heard her laugh before, and he hadn’t expected it to be so… enchanting. It was a small, fleeting moment, but it lingered in the air like the first notes of a song.  

“I would totally beat you to the top,” Mark shot back, his competitive side flaring up.

“We all know my horse is the fastest,” Jeno interjected, his voice carrying a lightness the princess hadn’t heard from him before. It was a side of him she didn’t know existed—playful, almost carefree.

“Prove it,” Haechan challenged, and with that, he urged his horse forward, darting up the trail with a burst of speed.

“Cheater!” Mark shouted, spurring his own horse into a gallop as he chased after Haechan.

Jeno leaned closer to the princess, his breath warm against her ear. “You better hang on,” he warned, a hint of mischief in his voice. Before she could respond, he flicked the reins, and the horse surged forward. The sudden acceleration made the princess gasp, her heart racing as the wind whipped past her face. The world blurred around her, the trees and sky becoming a streak of colors as they sped up the trail.

Taeyong brought up the rear, shaking his head at his brothers’ antics, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. He urged his horse forward, joining the chase with a steady, controlled pace.

The princess clung to the saddle, her breath hitching as the horse’s powerful strides carried them faster and faster. The wind was cold against her cheeks, but it felt exhilarating, freeing in a way she had never experienced before. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t thinking about alliances or duties or expectations. She was simply living in the moment, feeling the rush of speed and the warmth of Jeno’s presence behind her.

Jeno’s laughter rang out, deep and unrestrained, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. It was a laugh she hadn’t heard before, one that felt rare and precious. Without thinking, she laughed too, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her. It was wild and unrestrained, a reflection of the freedom she felt in that moment.

The trail stretched ahead, the brothers’ shouts and laughter echoing through the trees as they raced toward the top. For the first time, the princess felt a flicker of something she hadn’t known she was missing—joy, pure and unburdened. And as the horse carried them forward, she couldn’t help but hope that this feeling, this fleeting sense of freedom, might last just a little longer.

As they neared the top, clearing up ahead, Taeyong seemed to move faster towards them.  He confidently maneuvered his horse around them all.  Pulling ahead just before they reached the top.  It was clear then speed didn’t matter nearly as much as strategy.  As the princess and prince Jeno reached the top, the horse slowing down as they reached the clearing, she could feel the cold seep deeper into her.  She could feel herself begin to shiver.  

“This isn’t fair,” Haechan huffed, as he reached the top last.  The other brothers chuckled watching the baby pout about not winning the race.  

“That’s what happens you cheat,” Mark retorts back. 

“Shouldn’t have challenged us, if you weren’t confident in your abilities,” Jeno teases, adding salt to the wound of Haechan's hurt ego.  

“Look at this view,” Taeyong said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe as he dismounted his horse and walked toward the edge of the overlook. The other brothers followed, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The vista before them was breathtaking—rolling hills, dense forests, and the distant glimmer of the city, all bathed in the pale winter light. It was a sight that could make anyone pause and marvel.

Prince Jeno dismounted his horse, his movements deliberate as he glanced at the ground. His eyes traveled upward, taking in the princess’s boots—elegant but impractical for the muddy terrain. “Stay on the horse,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “The ground is muddy from the melted snow. I don’t want you to get dirty.” His words were casual, almost dismissive, but they sparked a flicker of irritation in the princess. She wasn’t some fragile doll to be coddled, and his assumption grated on her.

Jeno led the horse closer to the edge, positioning it so the princess could take in the view. The landscape stretched out before her, vast and beautiful, but her mind was elsewhere. The prince’s unexpected kindness felt… off. It didn’t align with the cold, distant man she had come to know. Was this a genuine gesture, or was there something more behind it? Her thoughts raced, replaying every interaction from lunch to this moment, searching for hidden meanings. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not even for a second.

Jeno noticed the way the princess stiffened at his suggestion, her posture rigid and her expression guarded. He hoped this ride might help soften the tension between them, might show her that his resistance to the alliance wasn’t personal. If they had met under different circumstances—if they hadn’t been forced into this union—he wondered if things might have been different. But those were thoughts he kept to himself, buried beneath layers of duty and pride.

The winter air bit at the princess’s skin, sharp and unrelenting. She shivered involuntarily, her arms wrapping around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Jeno’s gaze flickered to her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Are you cold, Princess?” he asked, his voice softer now.

Before she could respond, he was already shrugging off his riding jacket, the one he had worn since they left the stables. “It’s quite alright, Your Highness,” the princess said quickly, her tone polite but firm. She didn’t want his jacket, didn’t want this sudden closeness. The ride had already felt too personal, and this—this was crossing a line.

“You’re shivering,” Jeno said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He swung back onto the horse behind her, his movements smooth and practiced. Before she could protest further, he draped the jacket over her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s not thick, but it’ll help,” he added, his tone matter-of-fact.

The princess hesitated, then reluctantly pulled the jacket tighter around her. It did help, blocking the worst of the wind and trapping what little warmth her body could muster. She hated to admit it, but she was grateful—not just for the jacket, but for the way his body heat seeped into her back as he settled behind her. It was a small comfort, one she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Let’s head back down,” Jeno called to his brothers, his voice cutting through the crisp air. The others nodded, mounting their horses and preparing for the descent. Jeno’s arms brushed against hers as he reached for the reins, his proximity sending a jolt of awareness through her. She told herself it was just the cold making her skin prickle, but deep down, she knew better.

As they began the slow ride back, the brothers fell into easy conversation, their voices carrying over the crunch of hooves against the frozen ground. They reminisced about past rides, their laughter ringing out in the quiet winter air. The princess listened intently, her mind working to piece together the fragments of their shared history. Every word, every anecdote, was another clue to understanding this family she was being forced to join.

But even as she focused on their stories, she couldn’t ignore the warmth of Jeno’s body behind her, the way his presence seemed to fill the space between them. It was a strange, unsettling feeling—one she wasn’t ready to confront. For now, she clung to the reins, her walls firmly in place, even as the lines between duty and something more began to blur.

As they approached the stables, the princess spotted her guards waiting in the distance. Her eyes immediately locked onto Chan, and her heart sank. The tension in his jaw was unmistakable, his posture rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Even from afar, she could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She had never seen him look like this—so raw, so hurt.

When they reached the stables, the stable hands hurried out to take the horses. Prince Jeno dismounted first, then turned to help the princess down. As her feet touched the ground, she shrugged off his jacket, the fabric slipping from her shoulders like a barrier being removed.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, her tone poised and regal, but distant—so distant it felt like a wall had been erected between them. She turned to face Jeno and his brothers, offering a graceful bow. “Thank you for the ride. I must be on my way.”

No one argued as she turned and walked away, her guards falling into step behind her. Jeno watched her go, his thoughts a tangled mess. He had expected to feel relief as the distance between them grew, but instead, he felt… unsettled. Confused. The sight of her walking away left an uneasy feeling, one he couldn’t quite explain.

The princess kept her head high as she walked, her steps measured and deliberate. But once they were far enough from the stables, she reached for Chan’s hand, her fingers brushing against his in a silent plea for comfort. To her dismay, he pulled his hand away, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying the storm within him.

“Chan, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t punish me for that.”

Chan remained silent, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. Hyunjin walked a few paces behind them, his presence a quiet reminder of the boundaries they couldn’t cross. The tension between Chan and the princess was palpable, a heavy weight that neither of them could bear to address—until now.

When they reached her chambers, Fei and Mei were already inside, preparing her evening attire for dinner. The princess, acting on impulse, grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him into the room. She ignored the startled looks from her maids, dragging him past them and into her bedroom. The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the world.

“Chan,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as she turned to face him. “Please, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t think playing happy couple with the prince would hurt me?” Chan shot back, his words sharp and biting. He knew they were unfair, but the pain in his chest was too much to hold back. 

“This is what’s expected of me,” she said, her voice rising in desperation. “I have no choice!”

“No,” Chan growled, his voice low and strained. “You’re expected to marry him, not fall in love with him.”

The words hit her like a slap. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you say that?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How could you think that? I’m in love with you.”

Chan’s resolve wavered, his chest tightening as he looked at her. He wanted to turn away, to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back. But she reached for him, her hands gripping his arms as if she could anchor him to her.

“Don’t do this,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“My princess,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “you know we can’t.”

“No, Chan, don’t do this to me,” she cried, her hands moving to cup his face. Her tears streaked down her cheeks, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Don’t punish me for loving you.”

“Do you think me walking away is meant to punish you?” he asked, his voice raw with emotion. “Do you think this is easy for me?”

Before he could say more, she pulled him closer, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and longing. It was a kiss that carried years of unspoken feelings, of stolen glances and hidden touches, of love that could never be. When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.

“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll tell them the ride made me sick. Stay with me, here in this room, just for tonight. Let us pretend, just for one night.”

Chan closed his eyes, his heart breaking as he gently pulled her hands away from his face. “You know we can’t, my princess,” he said softly, his voice thick with regret. “We can’t.”

“Chan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she watched him step back, putting distance between them.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” he said, his voice breaking as he turned and walked toward the door. He paused for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob, but he didn’t look back. “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room, her heart shattered into pieces.

Back at the stables, the princes were ensuring their horses were properly cared for when a palace servant approached. The servant bowed deeply before addressing them. “Crown Prince Lee Jeno, General Lee, Prince Lee Mark, and Prince Lee Donghyuck, your presence is requested by the king.”

Mark’s face immediately showed panic. “Father wants to see all of us? This can’t be good.”

Haechan, ever the optimist, waved off his brother’s concern. “Oh, come on! We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Really? You’ve caused no trouble in the past day or two?” Haechan was known for his pranks, and Jeno wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

Haechan grinned and gave an exaggerated bow. “I promise, my future king, I have caused no trouble within the palace walls.” He knew addressing Jeno like that would annoy him, and he wasn’t wrong. Jeno immediately chased after him, the two brothers tussling like children.

Taeyong sighed, stepping in to break it up. “Hey, quit fighting. Do you want to keep the actual king waiting?”

“No,” both Jeno and Haechan muttered, their heads hanging low as they reluctantly stopped. Together, the four brothers made their way to see the king.

When they arrived, they found their father and Jeno’s mother waiting in the king’s private drawing room. The room was simple and understated, more like a cozy lounge than a formal royal space. Behind a shelf of books was a hidden door that led to the king’s private office—a place no one but the king and his personal butler, Jung, were allowed to enter. Not even the queen or the princes had ever stepped foot inside.

“Your Majesties,” Taeyong greeted, bowing respectfully. The other brothers followed suit, staying silent as they waited for their father to speak.

“You requested our presence, Father?” Taeyong asked, standing tall and meeting the king’s gaze.

The king nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. I have an announcement to make. After Princess (Y/n) and Jeno’s marriage, I am considering stepping down as king.”

Jeno’s eyes widened in shock. “What, Father?!”

The king continued, his tone calm but firm. “Yes, I will step down from the throne after your marriage, Jeno, and you will be crowned king. But before that, I want to make Mark and Donghyuck full members of the council.”

Jeno was still reeling from the news. “Father, stepping down? No king in the history of our kingdom has ever done that. Is that even possible?”

The king’s expression didn’t waver. “If it’s not possible, I will make it possible.” He handed Jeno a stack of papers, which the other brothers peeked at curiously. “These are the accords of the alliance. The Kingdom of Modia will be transferred into our control as a territory of Northcy. However, this transfer will only happen once you ascend the throne.”

Jeno’s frustration was evident. “Father, you can’t be serious. You want me to take the throne early just to assume control of a kingdom that shouldn’t be ours?”

The king’s gaze hardened. “Jeno, this is reparations for the war. And let’s not forget—Modia will fall without this arrangement. This is as much for their sake as it is for ours.”

Jeno stood his ground, his voice firm. “Father, no. You can’t justify taking over another kingdom just because of the war.”

The king rose from his seat, his presence imposing as he placed both hands on Jeno’s shoulders. His grip tightened, a silent reminder of his authority. “My boy,” he said, his voice low and warning, “you’d do well to watch your tone with me.” He paused, then turned to Taeyong, changing the subject. “I’m sure you have much work to do, Taeyong?”

Taeyong nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, Father. The plans to withdraw soldiers from the front lines are underway. I leave in a few days to oversee it personally.” He gestured for Jeno to follow him, and the two left the drawing room together.  Mark and Haechan stayed to talk to the king further about their own assignment.  

Once they were out of earshot, Jeno turned to Taeyong, his face filled with worry. “Taeyong, I don’t want this. I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to get married.  This isn’t fair, nor is it right.”

Taeyong placed a reassuring hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Jeno, you’ll make a fine king. Don’t worry so much and the arrangement will help Modia as well, if it didn’t they wouldn’t have agreed. And the princess is a beautiful girl. What’s the problem with marrying her?”

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The problem isn’t her. The problem is marriage itself. I don’t want it—not now, at least. I want to marry someone I know, someone I love, not someone Father and Mother forced upon me.”

Taeyong understood his brother’s frustration, but there was little he could do. Jeno’s duty as the only male heir of the true king and queen was non-negotiable. Before Taeyong could respond, a maid approached, calling him away for another matter. Left alone, Jeno stood in the hallway, his thoughts swirling with doubt and dread.

That evening, during the quiet hum of the evening meal, Prince Jeno found himself watching the princess. His gaze lingered on her as she ate, her movements graceful and deliberate. He wondered if she knew the full extent of the accords binding their union. Did she understand what this alliance truly meant—not just for them, but for their kingdoms? For a fleeting moment, he even wondered how she felt about it all. Did the thought of Modia falling under his control pain her? Did she resent him for it? The questions gnawed at him, but he kept them locked away, his expression unreadable.

The princess, meanwhile, was lost in her own thoughts. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and questions—love and duty, politics and alliances, right and wrong, truth and lies. She was beginning to realize that this union would cost her far more than she had anticipated. It wasn’t just her freedom at stake; it was her identity, her people, her very sense of self. And if she wanted answers, she would have to fight for them.

When the meal ended and the princess returned to her chambers, her thoughts refused to quiet. As her maids helped her into her sleeping attire, she couldn’t shake the memory of something Jeno had mentioned during lunch. “Mei,” she called suddenly, stopping the maid mid-motion. “Fetch my robe. I want to go to the library.”

Fei frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. “Your Highness, it’s late. Surely this can wait until morning?”

“No,” the princess said firmly, her mind racing. “The prince mentioned something today—something I need to understand.”

“What was it, Your Highness?” Mei asked as she helped the princess into her robe.

“He mentioned a sister,” the princess said, her voice low. Both maids froze, their eyes widening in surprise. “And he said his older brother has a different mother. Who’s to say the others don’t as well?” Her expression was a mix of confusion and determination as she tried to piece together the fragments of information. “And the oldest brother, Taeyong—he’s the general. In my studies, I learned that the general holds two votes on the council. One as general, and one as prince.”  The last sentence she said softly as if it were more for herself than for her maids. 

The princess stopped abruptly in the middle of the dimly lit hallway, her thoughts clicking into place. “Your Highness?” Mei asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“Prince Taeyong,” the princess murmured, her eyes narrowing as the realization hit her. “He was stripped of his title as crown prince, so he became the general instead.”

Fei and Mei exchanged a glance, their concern growing. “Your Highness?” Fei prompted gently.

“I think,” the princess said slowly, turning to face her maids, “I think I’m beginning to understand Prince Jeno’s anger toward the council.” Without another word, she continued down the hall, her maids hurrying after her.

When they reached the library, the princess pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. The room was vast, its towering shelves filled with books and scrolls that held the secrets of Northcy’s history. She moved quickly, scanning the titles for anything that might shed light on the royal family’s past.

“I’ll prepare some tea,” Fei said, knowing this would be a long night. “And I’ll inform Chan and Hyunjin of your whereabouts. They won’t be pleased to find you out of your chambers so late.”

Mei nodded, a hint of amusement in her voice. “They’ll want to stand guard, no doubt.”

The princess raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be fine. We’re still within the palace walls.”

Fei sighed softly, her own smile faint. “I’ll let them know.”

“Tell them not to come,” the princess added, her tone firm but kind. “They deserve a proper rest. Just inform them where I am so they’re not worried.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fei said with a bow before slipping out of the library.

Hours passed as the princess pored over books and scrolls, her determination unwavering. The information she found was fragmented, never quite enough to answer all her questions. Mei and Fei, seated nearby, began to yawn as the night wore on. They exchanged tired glances, wondering how much longer their mistress would keep them up.

“Your Highness,” Fei said finally, breaking the silence. “It’s late. You should return to your chambers.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mei agreed. “It’s not proper for you to be out like this.”

The princess smiled faintly, her eyes still scanning the pages before her. “Go, both of you. Get some rest. Tomorrow is another day. I’ll return to my chambers shortly.”

“Your Highness…” Fei began to protest.

“Don’t worry,” the princess said, her tone gentle but firm. “I’ll be fine. Go—that’s an order.”

Reluctantly, the maids bowed and left the library, their footsteps fading into the silence.

More time passed, the princess growing more engrossed in her search. She was so absorbed that she didn’t hear the library doors open or notice the soft footsteps approaching.

“It’s late, Princess,” a voice said, cutting through the quiet.

The princess jumped, her heart racing as she turned to see Prince Jeno leaning against a bookshelf. He was dressed casually in a white compression shirt that clung to his torso, accentuating his athletic build, and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he, too, had been unable to sleep.

“Your Highness,” the princess said, standing quickly and bowing.

Jeno waved off the formality. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked, his gaze drifting to the books and scrolls scattered across the table. His expression softened as he realized what she had been studying—his family’s history, their lineage, their secrets.

“You won’t find her in these,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something the princess couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” she replied, though her heart was pounding.

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My sister,” he said, his voice low. “She died young. She was born sick and passed away before she turned ten.” He looked down, his shoulders tense. “The council thought her existence was a weakness. They erased her from the records—no birth, no death. As if she never existed.”

The princess’s heart ached for him. The idea that the council could so callously erase a child’s life, all for the sake of maintaining an image of strength, was horrifying. “Your Highness…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the walls between them seemed to crumble. He took a seat at the table, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. “Ask me anything, Princess,” he said. “for Tonight, I’ll give you the truth.”

The princess was stunned. She searched his face for any hint of deception, but all she saw was sincerity. For tonight, at least, it seemed Jeno had decided to forget she was the enemy. And so, with a deep breath, she began to ask her questions.

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(First Kiss Edition!)

(Not my picture!)

(I thought this song was perfect for this, I remember watching this in the movie theaters way back when, loved it and still do. The first time I saw a representation of some of my culture on that scale, such an underrated movie.)

- In any situation you guys are in, working together or having two different jobs? I don’t think it’d be a surprise when I say the first kiss happens very early into the relationship and they’re the one to initiate it.

- No coaxing or dancing around the subject, you’re getting kissed like three days into the relationship tops.

- If you guys work for Overwatch together, and y’all won a particularly rough mission after going back and forth with the enemy, emotions are high as the celebration of the triumph proceeds.

- It happens so suddenly, like you’re next to Venture, happy as a clam after putting your all into your fighting. Then, out of nowhere, you’re getting grabbed and pulled into a sudden and passionate kiss that leaves you stunned and flushed, silent as a church mouse when they pull away.

- You know that one scene in ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ Where Roger kisses Detective Valiant as if his life depended on it? It’s along the lines of something like that.

- You probably said something like, “I could kiss you right now!” After they saved you from getting pulverized and in their mind they went “Bet”.

- Trust me, they’re also kind of surprised that they actually did it—

- Time freezes for a moment as y’all kissed cause the team to go silent before an uproar from the particularly positive teammates— Causing even more cheering, especially if you have someone like Reinhardt on the team, he’d hype you guys up so much.

- That or if you guys are archeologists or simply have different jobs from one another it’s more private and Sloane can try to convince you that it was on purpose. But in Overwatch? Fuck no lol.

- The whole roster was like 80% sure you guys were a thing, but that went up 1000% when Sloane kissed you as if they needed it to breathe.

- Spreads like wildfire and by the end of the day everyone knows you guys are a couple, and a rather cute one on top of that.

- At least you guys don’t have to tell everyone that you’re a thing now.

- It makes Venture a little sad. They were planning something big to announce it cause they felt like it needed to be as special as they think your guys’s relationship is. They were biting back the urge to brag about it for 72 hours (the longest time they’ve ever kept something like that to themselves besides their feelings before you guys were a thing), all for naught.

- Reassure them it isn't a big deal and that if they look at it from a different perspective, the first kiss was a great way of doing it.

- They’ll spring back up when you say that, saying something like “Oh I planned to do it like that anyways!”

- You know, like a liar.

- Besides that little hiccup, it was a great first kiss, they wouldn't have it any other way.

- As one might expect, everyone has different views on the matter, with the positive ones that are like “Aweee look at them go!” And think it’s cute: (Ana, D.Va, Junkrat; a mix between neutral but more positive nonetheless, Kiriko, Lucio, Lifeweaver, Illari, Mei, Mercy, Reinhardt, Sigma; same as Junkrat)

- Neutral, like, “Oh, cool, congrats Ig”: (Brigitte; a bit more positive but still neutral, Baptiste, Bastion, Cassidy, Echo, Genji, Hanzo, Junker Queen, Orisa, Symmetra, Torbjorn, Solider 76, Roadhog, Sombra, Sojourn, Winston, Zarya, and Zenyatta: same as Brigitte but a bit more happy)

- Then the negative, the “I don’t need to know about about that you keep that to yourself”: (Ashe, Doomfist, Moira; sassy about it, Mauga; He’s like an annoying older brother that is constantly trying to embarrass their younger sibling— That sibling rivalry between him and Venture is wildddd, Reaper, Ramattra; a bit more neutral, Wrecking Ball; Blunt and mean about it too lmao, Widowmaker; graduated with her master’s degree in the art of being a hater).

(FINALLY! On the last scheduled headcanon post! Yippeee! Hopefully I’ll now be able to get some requests from y’all now that I’m done with this last one!)

[theonlyonesora]

Chapter 5: Golden Year (2006)

.

The air in 2006 carried a vibrance that could only exist in fleeting moments of youth. Kyoto’s skies were a brilliant shade of blue, dotted with lazy clouds drifting past the warmth of a sun that bathed the Jujutsu Tech grounds in golden light. Laughter echoed through the courtyard as a group of students reveled in the unspoken camaraderie of shared struggles and fleeting triumphs.

The haunted house was their challenge, a mission meant to test courage and skill. The dilapidated structure loomed ominously in the distance, ivy snaking through shattered windows like the fingers of ghosts long forgotten. Dust motes danced in the faint light that filtered through the cracks of rotting wood. This was no place for joy, yet here they were, young and brimming with a sense of invincibility that could only belong to students who believed they could take on the world.

Yuna and Utahime had ventured ahead, daring one another to brave the shadows. Their laughter had faded to silence, replaced by the unsettling creaks of an unstable floor and the whispers of the past that seemed to cling to the air. When the structure gave way, time itself seemed to pause.

Gojo, ever the confident, was the first to arrive. His silhouette was framed by the glow of an afternoon sun slipping into twilight. He peered into the gloom, calling out. “I came to save you two. Are you crying?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes betrayed concern.

Utahime’s furious reply came from under a pile of rubble, her face dusted with dirt but her spirit untouched. “Shut up, Gojo!” she snapped, her anger lending her strength to free herself.

It was a chaotic rescue, filled with bickering and teasing. Shoko and Mei Mei joined soon after, their relief palpable as Utahime and Yuna emerged bruised but smiling.

“Here, let me help,” Shoko said softly, dusting off Yuna’s clothes with tender care. “Thanks, Shoko,” Yuna replied, her voice warm.

Meanwhile, Mei Mei was determined to get her hug from Geto, who tried to sidestep her affection with little success.

“Stay still, Suguru,” Mei Mei teased, wrapping her arms around him.

Gojo leaned against a broken beam, his grin unfazed by the chaos. “Utahime, I’d say you owe me a thank-you.”

“I’d rather thank Suguru,” Utahime retorted with a sly smile.

Yuna smirked, stepping closer to Geto and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Too bad for you, Utahime. Suguru’s already mine.”

.

The group, now reunited and relieved, decided to head into the city for drinks. The walk was filled with laughter, their steps in sync with the rhythm of a friendship forged through fire. Gojo led the way, his white hair catching the dim glow of streetlights as they neared their destination.

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was warm, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses creating a soothing backdrop. Yuna and Geto sat close, their shoulders touching.

“What drink would you like, Yuna?” Geto asked, his voice soft but steady. “A Yamabuki,” she said with a faint smile.

As the drinks arrived, Geto leaned in, placing a light kiss on Yuna’s cheek. She blushed, her happiness radiating. Across the table, Gojo groaned dramatically.

“All this sweetness is making me want to throw up,” he muttered, earning laughter from the group.

Yet, not all hearts were light. Utahime’s gaze lingered on Yuna and Geto, her smile forced. Mei Mei nudged her playfully, but the sadness in Utahime’s eyes spoke of longing she couldn’t quite hide.

“She’s still holding onto her crush,” Gojo whispered to Yuna, who frowned.

“I thought it’d pass after we started dating,” Yuna murmured, her voice tinged with guilt.

“Utahime’s stubborn,” Gojo said. “She’ll come around, eventually.”

The night continued with teasing and lighthearted banter, a balm for the soul. Yuna kissed Shoko on the cheek, earning a shy smile, then turned to Gojo, planting a kiss that turned his face a brilliant shade of pink. Finally, she kissed Geto, their affection drawing playful groans from their friends.

“Let’s go home,” Yuna said softly.

As they left the bar, the streets glimmered with the light of neon signs and stars barely visible in the city’s haze. Yuna and Geto walked hand in hand, their love a quiet force that steadied them. Gojo, Shoko, Mei Mei, and Utahime followed, their chatter filling the air like music. Though Utahime trailed behind, her footsteps slower, her heart heavier, the night ended as it always did—with the unbreakable bonds of a friendship that, even through jealousy and heartbreak, stood firm. For in their shared past, they found the strength to face the uncertain future.

[verylongsillystring]

‧₊˚ ⋅ 신호를 보내

forty one winks 마치 morse code 같이 ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

SOUL II SOUL (소울투소울) also referred to as SIIS (에스투에스), is a five-member girl group under big hit music and hybe. siis consists of; son jiwoo, yurina, emerald, choi jihyun and mei. they made their official debut on april 3, 2022, with the debut extended play ‘to my soul’ and the lead track ‘soul to soul’.

souliisoul 의미 . soul ii soul represents the intertwine of souls who come together to create one harmony which is reflective of the group’s mantra to spread and touch those with the ambition of their dreams. the name, ‘soul ii soul’, acknowledges the individuality of each member whilst simultaneously expressing the representation that comes with being a group package.

souliisoul 팬들이 ♡ 이유 iyu (an abbreviation for i, you, us); meaning ‘reason’ in korean, is souliisoul’s official fandom name. iyu represents the cause for the group’s ongoing perseverance, existence and the reciprocated dream between the five members. between siis and iyu, so long as they’re united, their dream may be kept safe.

souliisoul 컨셉 . siis’ concept touches all aspects of a fractured soul, picking up the pieces in order to determine oneself and find true meaning to the outside world. their concept depicts growth and human nature, leaning into the triumphs and trials of adolescence into adulthood and the general struggles of life. soul ii soul does not withhold itself of any specific conceptual ideas or sounds, branching out and exploring the true meaning of a kaleidoscope which perfectly defines the art of human.

debut ep ‘ to my soul ’

⌗ 01 thorns : ambient

⌗ 02 soul to soul : electropop / eurodance

⌗ 03 cherry picking : nu disco

⌗ 04 forget-me-not : r&b / alternative

⌗ 05 영혼 피어나다 (bloom) : hyper pop / ballad

[rc-appreciationweeks]

💕 Thanks to this blog for hosting the event with Faye, and thank you Faye for participating!! I would absolutely love a short date fic with Kazu from Legend of the Willow where he and Mei are walking among the cherry blossom trees in bloom 🌸 Thanks again, and happy Valentine's Day! 💕

Hello there, Kazu is wonderful

Mei was waiting. She was good at waiting. The sun was shining and her small umbrella protected her from its scorching rays. Around her, the pink petals of the cherry blossom trees floated through the air.

”Patient one…”

The sound of Kazu’s voice made her turn.

”Hello.”

”Did you wait for me long?”

She looked down and smiled.

”No longer than I expected.”

The ninja looked boldly at her, unable to decide if she was teasing or chastising him. Instead, he made a move to walk. She followed.

Together they walked down the path between the long row of trees. The wind was blowing from east, the scent of the flowers caressing Mei’s cheek and filling her lungs.

”You should not have to wait for me. If I’m not there, it is my loss, not yours.”

Mei didn’t know what to say. She glanced to the side, hoping to see Kazu’s profile, but caught his eyes instead. She looked away immediately.

”In many ways, you are like a cherry blossom yourself, blushing one.”

He held out a hand in the wind.

”To watch you is to witness a triumph of nature. Something so majestic, yet delicate…”

Petals danced around you, landing on his palm at times before flying away.

”You envelop me, touch me, fleetingly at times, but always there, dancing…”

When a bright pink and perfectly shaped petal touched his palm, he closed his hand around it.

”Sometimes, I have to be quick to preserve the moment. To capture your essence for myself. Selfishly holding on to the feeling you’ve evoked inside me.”

Mei followed his hand with her eyes. Kazu caressed the flower carefully and then placed it between the layers of his clothes, next to his heart.

[leajdh]

Gold rush

Chapter Five: You who shimmy shook my bone, leaving me stranded all in love on my own.

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS: https://www.tumblr.com/leajdh/722300699873083392/all-chapter-of-my-satoru-gojo-x-reader-fanfiction?source=share

Suguru was right. 

The people love us. The picture he took yesterday of Satoru and me went viral. Not even ten minutes after it was posted on Satorus instagram page, it had over 20k likes and over a thousand comments. Surely some comments were negative but that was predictable and mostly they were genuinely nice. We got a whole lot of comments telling us that we are perfect for each other, which is such an internet thing to say, because they don’t know anything about us other than we are both skating on ice. Well, certainly this is enough for the public to think we are compatible. 

We had a good run since the picture was taken. I don’t feel awkward or nervous around Satoru anymore. Against my better judgment sleeping with him really helped. I can look at him without having the sudden urge to run away and hide. 

And I like to look at him, especially when he is training with his focused face, listening to everything Mei Mei screams at him, but still completely absorbed in his flow. I have only watched him train for about thirty minutes, however I was hooked by his movements. The itch to watch him far longer was there, but I didn’t want to come across as if I have any kind of interest in him outside of our contract. 

The way I smiled at him in this goddamn picture was enough to set me off. 

I slept with him, I smiled like a simpleton at him and now I even enjoyed him playing Ice Hockey, the sport I hate more than anything. 

I had to press on my mental brake. Falling for him isn’t an option. After all, I still have my doubts about him. I can’t throw them all over board because we had sex. He is ever so unpredictable and arrogant and just not the one for me. 

At least social media proved itself useful in my dilemma. A user posted an edit of the way I glance before I step on the ice followed by a clip of Satoru doing the same. Once we are on the ice, knowing something is there to win, we both look and act the same. 

Maybe that’s what fascinates me when I watch him train. It is like looking in a macabre mirror, seeing another person as infatuated as myself with being the best. We have the same fixed stare, head slightly tilted downwards, looking up between our lashes and noticing everything around us without losing our center. Shoulders and back straight and neck long. The perfect posture, even while stepping and sliding on the ice.

I wish to know if his heart has the same beat as mine in these kinds of moments. Strong enough to feel it pulsate in my ears, feeling the blood flow hot up and down my carotid artery, vision focused but also blurry from the frenzy. 

The emergence of goosebumps all over the skin, not enough for others to notice, but just enough to feel it happening out of fever and being filled up with enough adrenaline to knock out a thousand men, but just enough of it to calm one maniac. 

I realized from the moment he blackmailed me with this video of us, we are cut from the same cloth. 

Since then I was on the lookout, my guard up to the moon but he still managed to slip right through and got the upper hand over me by noticing one of my weaknesses. 

How I am actually really insecure whenever I am not on the ice. 

How fragile my self-perception is. 

How important the voices of others are. 

How my life is one big ongoing performance. 

I let him see a glimpse of the real me and in return I got nothing. All I know about him, I can read online. Just some standard information. Granted our contract was formed because he wants his popularity back. Something that seems important to him. Nevertheless Suguru was the one who told me the resentment of his fans affected Satoru. It wasn’t Satoru who openly claimed and explained it. 

He doesn’t let me in and it pisses me off. 

I don’t want him to win. When we will walk out of the contract, I want to have the upper hand.  

Should we be a team? Absolutely. 

Are we both team players? Absolutely not.

Well, I know I am not a team player. He should be one as the captain of an Ice Hockey team, but I have the eerie feeling just for our state of affairs, he won’t be one. 

I need to get the control back or at least a draw. 

But how?

Think, think, think.

Totally lost in my thoughts upon creating a counter strike, I notice the big, gloomy figure behind me first when an arm like a tree trunk hovers over my head to grab something from the supermarket shelf I stand in front of. Irritated by the close proximity of this random person showing up right behind me, I quickly turn around and stare up at a man, who grins like the devil himself. He isn’t looking at me, staring at the grocery he wants from the shelf but that grin. 

I know it is for me and strangely I have the feeling we met before. 

“Well, excuse me”, I mutter, finding it troublesome to have someone in my personal space. 

“You’re excused”, he answers, still not looking at me while examining the ingredients of the product he just grabbed. I feel a shiver down my spine from how low and thorny his voice is, but I try to not get too alarmed as I roll my eyes at his answer. With an offended side stare, I take a step to the side. 

He is tall, not as tall as Satoru but broader, taking up more space in an uncomfortable manner. His arms and even his face are crested in thick, black tattoos. Maybe he has some more all over his body but I won’t ever be able to tell. Sharp facial features with a strong jaw and menacing warm eyes with a reddish hue to them. With his wide smirk still plastered on his face, I shortly doubt myself that the man next to me is human. The teeth are barbed and massive like ones feline predators have. 

“Loser.”

As soon as he adds this word, my head snaps back up. 

Oh my fucking god. He is real.

The memories of him hit me like a ton of bricks.

Tokyo, Japan, my first world championship.

The year before I won second place at the junior world championship, ending my streak of first places. 

It was devastating. 

Surely once being second place isn’t the end of the world, but the media at that time was harsh and brutal on me, maybe because I never lost and they finally saw a crack in my perfect facade.

I was 16 and read articles saying from now on I will only get worse. 

And I wasn’t even at the Olympics. 

It felt like my entire career had no meaning and I should just quit altogether. The questions I got asked ripped me mentally into pieces as I answered them with a fake smile, ready to cry once the cameras were away. Mei Mei and my mother tried to cheer me up, telling me not to listen to such bullshit. 

Figure skating is one of the most competitive sports. Each year the athletes are getting younger and breaking more limits and record after record.

Time doesn’t stop for anyone and it certainly doesn’t for athletes. I was crying for 2 days in my room calling myself old and worn-out.

Truly the joys of being an athlete. 

I refused to step on the ice for over a month until my mother had enough and took my phone and computer away, forcing me back on the rink. 

For her there wasn’t any other outcome. One day I would win gold in the Olympics. 

Her dream for me.

But for that dream to come true, I must skate again.

And I did, reluctantly. 

As if I ever had a choice in this matter. With an overly ambitious mother and my competitive mindset which was thrilled into my head as soon as I took my first step on the ice.

However, let's go back to the World Championship. 

All eyes were on me and I felt it in my strangled veins. I was never so nervous and insecure on ice before. 

I’m never insecure on ice. Skating is like breathing for me. 

And who would ever be insecure about breathing?

You get time slots when you can enter the rink for training before the competition. I waited for my turn at the lobby, getting myself warmed up. Championships lure all kinds of people into one place and mostly other athletes. It is good press to be interested in other sports and showing support, but most athletes do it for a bit of media coverage in between their seasons. 

I used to love watching swimming competitions, always finding it nice to see the contrast from ice skating. 

Hard ice against soft water. Coldness against warmth. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to see other athletes or just random celebrities in the hall. 

I remember him. As tall as in the present but not as broad. Younger but still sharp features and already tattoos on his arms. Overall an extremely good-looking man. 

He talked with reporters, grinning mischievous. 

I was amazed like most of the other girls. 

To be honest, to amaze me at that time, you just had to look at me at least once and open a door for me. Both things he did.

My seventeen years old brain was going haywire and you can definitely blame my mother for it. I barely had any time for friends, so meeting boys wasn’t even a theme to begin with. The only talk I really had with her was when I got my period and she instantly made an appointment to get me an IUD.

Her dream ended with her pregnancy. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to me.

Granted, I never questioned her. For me it was normal to concentrate all my energy on skating. 

Mei Mei always told me ‘now you are a figure skater and when you retire you will be a human again’.

Insane, right?

But I lived by that statement, focusing on skating entirely.

Just not on that day. I watched him like a hawk, walking around with a dozen people around him and taking picture after picture. 

Just who was he?

I couldn’t google it because my mother still had my phone and asking wasn’t in my repertoire. 

He noticed my glances. It wasn’t like I was subtle with it. I did everything to occupy my mind with something other than skating and losing again. 

On the outside I seemed cool and collective, Mei Mei and my mother truly thought I was over the Junior Championship, but mentally I was a sinking ship, just one more crash against an iceberg away from becoming a wreck. 

And just a few hours later I became one. 

On that day less than 24 hours before the competition. I was on the ice, going over my routine.  

I fell, not once, not twice, I fell so often I stopped counting. Mei Mei screamed at me, my mother completely shocked on why I performed this way. 

Reporters aren’t allowed on the tribune while athletes are training in their time slots but people with VIP-passes can enter and he seemed to have one. He watched me fall and fall again with that creepy smile on his face. I tried to blend him out and it worked. 

Like I said before, glances don’t bother me. I am used to being watched. Only Satoru managed to make me giddy.

Not even twenty minutes into my training I fucked up my signature triple axel, bending my ankle so hard I could hear my ligaments snatch, overstretching to the maximum. I was lucky they didn’t rip. 

I bit my teeth hard together and managed to leave the rink, stomping past Mei Mei and my mother, who wanted me back on ice. They didn’t know about my ligaments, just thinking I landed poorly but if I could still skate, it wasn’t so bad, right?

Right.

Telling them with gritted teeth that I need some time for myself I went into my locker room, where I just sat down and stared at the wall for minutes, emotionless. 

The blood pulsating in my feet, I knew once I put the skates off it would be bad. With shaky hands I opened them and stared at my ankle. Swollen already and I knew it would bruise. 

My mother would not allow me to skate like this. She is strict but not a lunatic. If I land one more time incorrectly without the ligaments fully healed, they will snap completely and my career is over. 

But I needed, no, I wanted the World Champion title.

Now or never. I didn’t want to wait another year.  

Another year would mean one year older, one year nearer my retirement. 

I wanted to cry but nothing came out. 

Eventually with an injury like this, I must have accepted that my career was ending. 

I just wasn’t good enough for the Olympics.

There is no shame to it. A lot of athletes never make it.

I instantly kick these thoughts in the butt. No, it isn’t over. I can do this. I will not fall tomorrow at the competition. I will win. I can take care of my ankle after the competition. It will fully heal. 

I knew it. 

It was nearly 10 years ago, so I don’t quite remember how long I was alone with my thoughts as the door opened and someone stepped in. I remember I sighed, madly trying to hide the swelling with a towel thrown over it. I expected my mother or Mei Mei to be the ones bothering me, but it was him with a big fat grin sitting on his face.

Throughout the conversation we were going to have his grin stayed on, sometimes fading or growing. But one thing is engraved in my brain like an antibiotic resistant parasite. His first words to me. Simple, but so world shattering to me. 

“Hey, Loser.”

He called me what I was truly thinking of myself at that moment, but never dared to acknowledge. 

Nevertheless I couldn’t believe someone would call me that. Before I even had the chance to tell him to fuck himself and get lost, he kept on talking. Along the lines of he knows torn ligaments when he sees them happening.

Staring him down I should have told him to leave my cabin, instead I said: “They aren’t torn, just on the edge of it.” 

I removed the towel and leaned over to my bag, taking out sport tapes. With a smile I babbled more to myself: “I had worse.”

Confidence is the key but my act didn’t work on him. He just leaned against the wall in front of me, not believing a single word by the way he looked at me. 

As I started to pull my legging up and begin sticking the tapes down, he clicked his tongue in disbelief. 

“By the way this is a private cabin.”, he ignored my words and with two big steps, he was right in front of me, taking the tapes out of my hand and muttering curses to himself. 

Mercilessly he grabbed my lower leg and stretched it out, my feet staying on his hard chest. It hurt like hell and I yelped, which gained me a side eye and something along the lines of ‘stop being a fucking pussy’. 

Usually I would say something snarky back, but I didn’t dare with him. Instead I just murmured: “I know how to tape myself.”

He only snorted mockingly at that and started to tape my ankle. If this guy is one thing, it definitely isn’t gentle. He applied the tape with such force, it felt like he wanted me to bruise even more. Still, I bit my teeth and let him do it. In between taping he started to talk to me: “I had the same thing once, so I know what to do.” 

My ankle was covered in tape in the pattern of a spiderweb. He talked to me like a ruthless trainer, who ignores the health of his athlete. 

“Keep the ankle cold under any circumstance, even if it feels like dying or you don’t feel anything at all.” 

Then he took a normal bandage and wrapped it around, tightly, telling me not to open it until after the competition. It will swell even worse and probably needs more time to heal, but at least I could be on the ice. 

Then he told me the same truth I already knew. 

“If you fall, it is over”, he snickered: “maybe it would be better anyway. To just end your foolish career.”

I knew, if I fall with this injury, it is truly over. Knowing it is one thing, but hearing someone else say it out loud shook my back into reality. 

“I won’t fall”, I told him without a doubt in my voice, ignoring his mean remarks. Bare teeth blinded my eyes as he laughed. 

“Just making sure you know your fate.”

Asshole.

“Why even help me if I will fail?”, I bit back. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I like being surprised.”

What a fucking weirdo.  

He pulled out his wallet and showed me a pill, asking if I already had my urine test. I nodded and looked skeptical at the pill. I do a lot of things to win, but I don’t take drugs. Seeing my suspicious scowl he told me: “It’s just a heavy painkiller.”

My scowl deepens. Painkillers are allowed, so why would he ask about my urine test?

He could read my mind like an open book.

"Prescribed.”

If they find a substance from a prescribed pill in my urine, I would need a doctor's note, so his question made sense. 

Well, that certainly didn’t sound better, and fine, I trusted him with my ankle but I wouldn’t take a pill from him. For all I knew he could be lying and giving me drugs. He rolled his eyes as I didn’t take it like I am stupid or something for not trusting him. Quite the contrary, I thought I was pretty smart for it. 

So I asked him: “Who are you even?”

All I got was a doubting laugh with furrowed brows like I am a fool for not knowing him. Based on my confused face he understood quickly I really had no clue and a devious smile grew back on his face. 

“I am.. Yuji.”, he states with a pause in between like he forgot what his own name is: “I play for the Japanese national basketball team.”

Nevertheless I was hesitant. Surely he was tall enough to be a basketball player but why was he here? 

Duh, why did I go to the swimming World cups? To be seen. 

Still I wouldn’t take a pill from him. 

I crossed my arms like a sulking child and shook my head. 

The air around him switched. To be honest he wasn’t in a friendly mood to begin with but now it changed drastically. 

He explained why he was even here to begin with. How he extra came for me to the Championship and how it was such a pain for his team to get him a VIP-pass.

All that for me to be a pathetic loser, who falls. He criticized my speed, my jumps and my overall form. It was like talking to all my worst critics combined. He didn’t sugarcoat one bit. His words were brutal and unforgiving. 

How he gave me a chance to get my title back and get Gold again, just for me to not accept it. How much he hates wasted potential and I am the embodiment of it. A silly little pathetic loser, blessed with genetic talent but no drive. 

I pushed myself up, feeling a slight sting in my leg, but didn’t mind. 

How dare he? He doesn’t know shit about me. As if his fucking pill would be my path to Gold. No, I didn’t care about the pain, I could ignore it. 

But I couldn’t ignore his attitude anymore. What did he even want from me? He didn’t know anything about me. We never talked before, nothing. I was angry. Angry at him and angry at me for allowing him from the beginning to talk down to me.

“Get the fuck out of my cabin!”, I hollered, but he didn’t move, smiling like my anger meant nothing to him and rather amused him, if not turning him on. 

“Or what?”

Yeah, fuck that or what? Honestly there was nothing I could do against a guy like this. I bet even if I hit him, it wouldn’t affect him, probably again just turning him on. 

“I will make sure they take your VIP-pass away”, oh my god, that was pathetic. Looking back I cringe at myself, but that’s all I could do. 

Another deep laugh.

“Do it, this whole thing is a waste of my time anyway. I thought I would see some great talents, but all I see is a whiny slut.”

I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was just angry.

“I am a lot but not whiny.”

“No denying on the slut part, I see.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t even have my first kiss at that time, but he didn’t have to know. 

“It’s not worth commenting”, I fired back. 

Suddenly everything happened so quickly, I barely had time to register anything as he grabbed my jaw with his large hand and squeezed my cheeks together. 

“I bet it turns you on being called all these degrading words”, he lowers his face to mine, nose on nose with a demonic grin plastered on his face. 

I’m a winner. Degradation doesn’t turn me on. It makes my blood boil. Sadly wrath and lust often go hand in hand, but I would never let him know. 

“I beg to differ”, I tear my face out of his grip. 

“Then prove me wrong, loser.”, his grip traveled to my throat, holding me in place, not wanting me to look away from his challenge. I didn’t waver my glance from his dark eyes. 

He leant in closer to my face, waiting for me to break away first but I kept my eyes on him, even as his lips nearly brushed mine. 

Never in my life was I more happy to be interrupted by my mother as we heard a knock on the door. Slowly, still with a wide smile on his face, he let go of me like nothing happened and put the pill in my hand. In a swift motion he walked to another exit like he had no care in the world while I was frozen into place. 

My mother came into the cabin and talked to me, but I didn’t listen. All I had in my mind was him and how to prove him fucking wrong. 

And I did, I won Gold the next day.

With the worst pain ever in my leg I stood on the pedestal, waving with a bitter smile into the camera. 

I saw him during my performance but not at the award ceremony. 

Who is the loser now?

I bet he thought I couldn’t bring it. Wanted me to fall and fail, crying on national TV over my career ending. 

Wrong slut, motherfucker. 

However as soon as I was backstage, my leg gave in. My mother caught me and Masamichi carried me to a private cabin. 

I didn’t take his pill. I didn’t need his help. 

I won on my own. 

When my mother took my skate off my foot I screamed, nearly blacking out. Mei Mei looked at the bandages around my ankle.

“Who did this?”, she asked furious, now understanding why I didn’t let them near my skates to fix them before my performance.

“I did it.”

“Don’t lie to me, you idiot!”

My mother proceeded to unwrap my ankle, feeling like she skinned my foot alive. 

“This is a military binding technique! It is made to stabilize a dying foot so the soldier can move forward.”

“It did the job”, I muttered back in a delirious state of pain.

“You are so stupid! It is for a dying foot! With this technique they don’t want to save the foot, they just want stabilization for a moment before it will be amputated!”

I didn’t really register her words, all I had in my mind was the Gold medal around my neck and the cold metal against my chest as I fainted.

I woke up in the hospital, my foot held up by some strings and tubes pumping a liquid into it. 

The pain was bearable, but my foot felt heavy and numb. 

I looked over and saw my mother sitting in a chair. She didn’t look happy like most mothers would be once their child woke up after fainting. 

“What the hell did you think?”

I thought nothing to be frank. I did as he told me and it worked. It worked perfectly. I won Gold. My lucky streak would be back. 

“I did what I had to do to win”, I replied.

“You could have not only lost your career as a figure skater, you could have lost your foot!”

“But I didn’t.”

“Don’t act smart with me now!”

“I am the world champion, mom.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do, you only ever cared about that.”

“That is not true.”

I stared at her with a tired but fierce expression. If she wanted to tell herself that, she could do it. I wouldn’t stop her. Making herself feel like she was the mother of the century. 

If I had shown her my foot, yeah, she would have said no to the competition but I would have gotten the silent treatment for weeks. 

Like getting an injury is my fault. For her it would be. 

Because how dare me to fail her dream. 

She put so much energy into me. Imagine it all failing.

What a waste of time. All for a loser like me.

Certainly I have shown in this performance I am not a loser. My performance was worthy of the Olympics and I would go to them the coming year and win Gold too. 

I am a fucking winner. The whole world is going to know my name.

Everything felt unreal. My career wasn’t over. If my foot wasn’t going to fully recover my mother would have told me instantly instead of trying to lecture me. 

I softly chuckled to myself, thinking about him. At this moment of delusion I truly thought I owe this motherfucker my career.

“Right now you look just like your father”, she said quietly: “I don’t recognize you.”

Still in my trance I tilted my head to my mother and just sputtered: “At least I am not a loser like you.”

The moment I said it was the moment I regretted it. Before I had the chance to apologize, she was out of the room, leaving me alone. 

No, I was wrong. I didn’t owe him my career, he only took part in creating a new part of my personality. An irrational and cruel one. 

He made me the cunt I am. 

For years I thought he was a ghost I created myself. Like part of my hidden personality came out the moment I nearly gave up and brutally dragged me back on the ice. 

To kick me even harder at my lowest point and either leave me there or make me get back up. 

I never apologized to my mother, but I got my phone and computer back and she acted like nothing happened, training me for the Olympics once my foot was back to normal. I lost two months of training because of my injury and the binding technique, but it didn’t matter. I knew whatever would come in between the Olympics and me would be demolished. I was never going to give up. 

He was a mystery I didn’t want to solve. I could have googled him, but I didn’t. I liked the idea of him just being a weird imagination of mine to get back on track. 

But now he is standing next to me in the cereal aisle of a small town supermarket and I am sure he is not a projection of my mind. He is real. 

“I know you are but what am I?”, I croak back, my voice lost in my throat. 

“You are witty, I will give you that.”, he chortles, cracking a smile: “But I take it back, you certainly aren’t a loser.”

“So don’t call me that.”

“Pet names take time to form, I wasn’t expecting to meet you here in the middle of nowhere. So I don’t have one up my sleeve.”

Me neither to the meeting part, but why does it feel like he is lying. Like he knew I would be here. 

“How about my real name?”

“Nah, way too impersonal.”, god, the way he is so presumptuous is kind of alluring in the best way possible. Must be me, I seem to have a soft spot for cocky bastards. 

“Well, we aren’t exactly friends.”

He turns with a full on grin to me, the one I dreamed about for months. The one I see in my mind before entering a competition.

“You are right.”, he added my name: “But I will still think of something new, something fitting.”

I can’t fucking wait for it.

“What would you say is the perfect gift for an old friend you haven’t seen in a while?”, he drags me out of my empty thoughts: “Not for you. You stated we aren’t friends, right?”

“Right”, I stutter back: “I guess it depends on the friend.” 

I try to act nonchalantly, but I feel like failing.  

That answer earned me a slight chuckle from him. I decide it would be best to ignore him and just continue my purchase, walking down the aisle, but the looming shadow doesn’t leave me. 

“A friend who isn’t a friend at all.”

This sentence piqued my interest. 

“Still not for you”, he adds, but I wasn’t even thinking that. 

“Then why buy a gift?”, I ask, allowing him to keep the conversation going as he walks through the fruit section with me. I am glad we are in a public space filled with people. Alone with him again, I would not survive. 

“Just for courtesy. He had a rough time”, subtle information but nothing sturdy to grab onto.

His grin is going to kill me. I feel like a flight animal in the headlights of a predator. 

“Wine always works”, I answer politely and curse myself still giving him partially my attention. 

The curse of being a woman, always civil to uncivil men. 

A loud laugh echoes through the aisle before it abruptly ends, his sharp teeth still showing. 

“Not a bad idea, but alcohol isn’t his thing”, he states: “anymore.”

I frown but end up not thinking further about his oddity as I see a box of chocolates and instantly think of Satoru. How he asked me for a ‘thank you’ card and a box of chocolates for his ‘help’. A dumb tease from his side but in my head the cogs start to turn. 

Round and round for a counter strike. I place the box in my shopper with a grin similar to the one from him. 

Fuck, he really created a part of me. 

“Chocolates always work as well”, I babble back, before turning serious. “What brought you to this city?”

“Oh, just a quick stop before visiting my friend, who isn’t really my friend.”

For whatever reason the way he talks and acts is enthralling. I know he isn’t a good person but he has a certain aura that not a lot of people have. A confident one, but ready to be able to back it up. I should have googled him. I should have to see if he has some achievements to back up his brash attitude towards me all those years ago. 

I can’t shake off the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“Seems like fate that we meet again”, if it is even possible his grin got bigger. 

“You also thought it would be my fate to fall and call quits, but here we are. Coincidences happen.”

Yes, our meeting years ago and now, they are just coincidences. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Oh, little devil I don’t believe in just coincidences.”

“Don’t call me that!”, I turned sharply around to him. He holds up his hands in a mocking way.

“Calm your tits.”

“Why did you call me that?”

“Because you are a bratty, little devil”, I ignore the sexual undertone in his words. It clicked instantly like finding the right puzzle piece. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”, I ask, taking another step back. He steps forward, looking down on me.

“Nah”, he chuckles roughly: “I am not into Ice Hockey.”

Fuck, I can’t tell if he is lying or not. He is as unreadable as Satoru. He is so indifferent, so detached, it is hard to see what his intentions are. For a second I just want to yell at him: ‘What do you want from me!?’ but I calm down and just continue my purchase, feeling his presence still in my neck.

“Mind if we take a picture together?”

I turn towards him, looking him up and down with my eyebrows pulled together. He laughs lightly, sounding friendlier. 

“Against whatever skepticism is playing in your head, I was always a fan of you.”

“You had a great way to show your support”, I instantly built my guards up around him.

“I think so too”, he ignores my obvious sarcasm. 

That fucking evil grin again as he pulls out his phone and hands it to a lady next to us, asking her to take a picture. Before I even register it, he is next to me, slinging his massive arm around my shoulder and yanks me towards him. Looking up he has a big grin on his face while I probably look startled as hell. 

Everything just happens so fast again, like I am back in the cabin. I couldn’t even agree as he took the phone back from the lady.

“Thank y-”, he starts, but I butt in: “I didn’t ag-”

“You smell good, what’s your perfume?”, he interrupts me too. I’m too confused to finish my other sentences as I just ask: “Why?”

“That friend, who isn’t really my friend, has a new girlfriend. I want to give her something too.” 

I tell him the perfume I use and walk straight to the register, just wanting to get away. He should have fucking stayed a ghost. 

I don’t try to gnaw on it too much as I put my groceries down. Eyeing a ‘thank you’ card, I quickly put it next to my groceries.

“Got a boyfriend?”, he asks without giving me a second look as he puts his stuff on the conveyor belt too.

“I actually do”, I snarl back, not amused at all by his behavior. I should have never answered his questions in the first place, just acting like I have no idea who he is. On the other hand it is hard to overlook the person who played such a big role in my career. 

He could have been the ending but he was the crucial part to my new beginning. Because of him I had the chance to retire when I wanted to. Two Olympic Gold medals. I ended my career in the best moment, at its peak. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”, I state affirmatively. 

“Someone I would know?”

What kind of dumb question is that?

It seems more likely that he isn’t believing me and just wants to make sure I am not lying. 

I owe him a lot in a cruel way, but I would never fall so low to ever date him. Regardless, I have a contract with Satoru and I will not waver. 

For the time being Satoru is my priority. 

At least this question gives me a little relief. If he doesn’t know about Satoru and me, he really isn’t an Ice Hockey fan. Good, one less worry.

“Well, can’t tell if you know him but Satoru Gojo”, I mutter, hoping it will be enough to get him off my back and leave me alone. I give the cashier my card and pay for my stuff. 

“It doesn’t ring a bell”, he laughs, his eyes following my every move. 

“Then you must live behind the moon”, I retorted and grabbed my groceries.

“Maybe, or he isn’t just that important”, he says with a shrug: “anymore.”

I foolishly neglect his reply and just walk out of the store towards my car. All I want is to get away from this person. From my past. 

Once I sit in my car, everything comes crashing down on me. My hands shake and I feel panic rising inside of me. I shouldn’t drive in this emotional state, but I need to leave the parking lot. Away from him. Far away and praying that I will never see him again. 

My mothers words come back into my brain. I could have lost my foot. 

Because of him. 

He is dangerous. 

In the end I will never know if I had made history at the Olympics if I had told him to fuck off and leave me alone, not skating at the world championship. No one will know. By all means I could have recovered out of my insecurities alone and won a year later. Everything is possible.

But I did what I did and he did what he did. Risking your own career is one thing, but being a driving force in risking others, problematic. 

Additionally to his acting of ‘fixing’ my ankle, his words were a big part in my win too. His degradation towards me made me want to prove him wrong. As soon as I stepped on the ice I wanted him to look at me and see me win. 

Full circle back to my weaknesses. I care too much about what people think of me. It shouldn’t have mattered what an unknown man claims about me. 

Yet it did to me. 

Cut that crap! I will change. This is my second new beginning. 

With that I start my car and drive off, not looking back. 

I arrive at the rink hall, taking my groceries with me as I walk to the front door. Seeing Satoru waiting for me from afar makes my heart flutter. 

I am safe now from the ghost of my past. 

He grins widely, nothing evil behind it. Just Satoru. 

I step towards him, he takes my bags from me as I don’t stop getting nearer. Pressing my face in his chest, I sling my arms around him and just breathe in. He never saw me as a loser. He always treated me like an equal. 

“What’s wrong?”, he lightly chuckles and puts one of his large hands on my head, patting me like I have seen him pat my cat Todo. His chest quakes from his laughter and it feels good. It feels safe. Satoru knows me and at least some of my weaknesses and he is still here.

“I just saw a ghost”, I mumble, which earns me another quiver from him. 

“A ghost?”

“Yes, but he is gone now and will never come back.”

“Did you fall on your head or something?”

Slight concern is in his voice. I look up to him with a cheeky smile. 

“I got something for you”, taking a step back, I grab my bags from Satoru and rummage inside of one of them. It is too full, so I take a pack of baby carrots out and hand it to him to just hold while I keep on searching.

“Wow, I love baby carrots!”, he says with way too much enthusiasm. They aren’t his surprise, but I couldn’t resist my next tease: “Why, do they remind you of something?”

He laughs and we both grin at each other. 

“I don’t have a baby carrot and you know it”, he adds: “As I recall it, you were afra-”

“Yeah, yeah I know! Don’t remind me, idiot.”

Satoru would love nothing more to remind me again of our night together, but I 

keep him quiet by switching the baby carrots in his hand with a box of chocolates. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but the baby carrots are for the kids later.”

“Kids?”, he frowns and looks at the new item in his hand. His brain is rattering to figure out why I give him chocolates. 

“Yeah, the skating students you happily agreed on training for me. Did you forget?”

The frown on his face deepens and soon enough he groans. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

“You promised.”

“Lie, I never did.” “Well, you said to Suguru that you promised me, so it is kind of a promise.”

Another groan, which makes me feel flustered, growing a bit hot in certain areas.

“Suguru and I will be there too.”, a small smile forms on his lips. 

“Fine.”, he pouts and rolls his eyes, but I know he is just acting bothered: “But if you leave me alone for one second I will be mad.”

“I would never.”, I reply with a soft nod. 

I take the ‘thank you’ card out of my bag and his brain is catching up to the premise. His pout turns into a knowing smirk. 

“Do you have your wallet on you?”

He knows what I want. 

“Always”, he hands me a pen out of his pocket. I open the card and go behind Satoru, using his broad back as a table to write on. He is nice enough to lean slightly forward as I scribble something down. I put the card into the envelope and 

wet the glue strip with my spit to close it. Once I am finished I hand it back to him with a big smile.

“Thank you, partner”

He is all smiles and dimples as he takes the card from me.

“It was my pleasure”, he sticks the box of chocolates under his armpit and rips the envelope open to read my message. 

Dear Satoru,

thank you for fucking my insecurity away ❤️

Sincerely followed by my signature autograph.  

By the way he looks at me, I am one more step closer to finally get him to open up to me. A step closer to get our situation ruled out as a draw.

He puts the card back into the envelope and looks at me with tomato red cheeks. I gasp at this sight. 

I managed to make the Satoru Gojo speechless with his own shenanigans! The ‘thank you’ card and box of chocolates were his idea after all.

“I got you blushing!”, I can not not make him even more embarrassed. This is the chance of a lifetime. I will wallow in it like a piggy in fresh mud. 

“Shut up”, he turns his face away, but I take his beautiful face in between my hands to make him look at me. 

A mistake because from the way he looks at me, he got me blushing now. I feel like in this moment we are just one more heartbeat away from kissing each other but as if god sent an angel to save me from my disgrace, the front door swings open and Suguru emerges. I let go of Satoru and took a step back, looking at Suguru now.

“There you are”, he nods at Satoru, not noticing me at first. I have never seen such an expression on Sugurus face. A grimace, a pissed off grimace.

“We need to talk.”

The last twenty minutes I spent on the tribune, next to Shoko as we watched Satoru and Suguru hammer pucks into the goal. 

“Men”, Shoko sighs next to me: “Can’t handle their emotions so they have to act them out.”

I agree with her. 

The situation they found themself in isn’t ideal but I don’t get the fuss. Toji Fushiguro didn’t sign an extension contract for the Rangers. It was a surprise but they could have seen it coming. Greedy athletes always change their team, especially if money is on the line. And if I learned one thing about Toji during my research, he loves money.

Surely losing a player is always shitty, but I looked into the entire team. There are so many good other players. He won’t be missed. At least I thought so, but as I voiced it Suguru looked at me with an offended glare and said I have no idea about Ice Hockey, so I kept my mouth shut from that point and just let them work it out on their own. 

It was better anyway to stay out of this, because my father decided to make Toji an offer of a lifetime and he will be playing for the Devils from now on. Once Suguru mentioned this to Satoru, I got the death stare, like I have something to do with the shit my father does. 

So I banished myself on the bench next to Shoko, now watching two grown men trying to see who can destroy their ice hockey stick the fastest. 

“Want something from the vending machine?”, Shoko asks me.

“Nah, I’m good, but here”, I hand her my keys: “Just open it and take what you want.”

“You will never get those keys back.”, she declares and I one hundred percent believe her. “I will not forget about them.”, I respond with a light smile, but she just waves me off and walks away.

As I watch them play or whatever the hell they are doing, I regret not unfollowing Toji on Satorus account in first place. 

With a big stretch I get up and decide to finally intervene. They could do this for hours to no end, but in around two hours ten kids will be here for their skating course and I can’t have two sulking men train them. 

I step on the ice being totally ignored by the two of them. Granted, I am the enemy right now, well, I have half the DNA of their enemy. 

“Does it really matter that he left?”

Both of them tilt their heads to me with an annoyed expression. I hold my hands up in defense.

“Like, is he stronger than you?”, I ask Satoru.

“No.”, a prompt answer.

“So it doesn’t matter.”, I get eye rolls from them - synchronous. 

“Ice hockey is a team sport.”, Suguru tells me like I don’t know. 

“Okay, and? What about the others? Aren’t they good enough?”

“That’s not the-”, I don’t let Suguru finish.

“Hakari never missed the goal, Higuruma always has a solid strategy, Kusakabe has one of the greatest defenses, Ino is an allround talent, Choso never misses a pass”, I pause, but add: “And Nanami just won the award for best goalie.”

They are a lot more players, but I decided to just go with the main ones. Both Satoru and Suguru stare at me like I am a freak.

“You learned about the team?”, Satoru asks, astonished.

“Yeah, for you”, I answer and oh boy, I didn’t mean for it to sound so tender, even corny. 

“I mean, you know I should kind of know your team, right? Like it would be weird if a reporter asks me something and I have no clue, right?”, too many rights. I cross my arms and act nonchalant, looking everywhere but at Satorus plaguing and all-knowing grin. Suguru just peeks between Satoru and me before rolling his eyes but with a small smile. 

“Anyway”, I try to get back on track: “Both of you are so occupied at being mad at a person who left your team for money, that you are the ones acting like Ice Hockey isn’t a team sport.”

According to wikipedia Toji is one of the best Ice Hockey players alive right now, but I certainly don’t need to mention this right now. 

“You are right, we don’t need him to win the Stanley cup”, Satoru announces after a while of skeptical glimpses between Suguru and himself. 

“Still he knows all the weaknesses of our team members”, Suguru thinks out loud: “and he knows the relationship between you two is fake.”

Shit, I forgot about that part.

“But like every other teammate he had to sign a document, he isn’t allowed to disclose that.”

“Come on, Satoru, don’t be dumb. He will never publicly state it but he will tell his new team and they will do anything to use it against you.”

“Let them try”, I chirp in: “we are smarter than them.”

I will end up regretting these words.

Satoru seems confident as well, giving me a thumbs up with a big smile. Only Suguru isn’t convinced.

“If everything goes down”, I skate to him and take his stick: “I can always take Tojis spot on the team.”

I hit the puck and scored. 

“Natural talent”, Satoru grins.

“Yeah, sadly it is in my blood”, I shrug my shoulders, looking at his beaming smile. I am glad I got them to stop overthinking. At least for now. If they want they can have a sleepover and keep sulking the entire night. For now I want them to be ready for the skating course later. 

As I was thinking of a way to cheer up Suguru, Shoko shrieks from the tribune. We all looked at her like she got bitten by a spider. 

“You gotta be kidding me!”, see, I will regret my words.

“What’s up, Choco-Shoko”, Satoru skates towards the brim of the rink, followed by Suguru and me. Normally Shoko would glare daggers at Satoru for this name, but she is too occupied staring at her phone. 

She alters her stare and looks with an open mouth at me before stuttering: “I have a girl problem.”

“A what?”, Suguru asks confusedly, staring at Satoru, who seems as perplexed. 

“I need you, now, outside”, she points at me and I just comply, stepping out the rink and stomping behind her with my skates still on. As soon as we exit the rink hall and enter the corridor, she turns around and holds her phone too close to my face to see. 

“Can you explain this?”

“Shoko, I can’t see anything like this”, I push her hand down and focus on the screen. 

It is a picture. 

Not any picture. 

It is the picture from the supermarket.

The picture of Yuji and me. 

The ghost isn’t gone. 

But they don’t know anything about my past with him. For what it looks like he is just a fan taking a picture with me. 

“What’s the problem, Shoko? He just asked for a picture in the supermarket”, I tilt my head, acting confused and certainly I am a bit. 

“You know who this is, right?”, she proceeds to press the phone again in my face.

“Shoko, stop”, I take a step back: “again, he was just asking for a picture. I didn’t ask for his ID or anything.”

Why do I have the feeling I made a huge mistake. 

Why can’t this ghost stay in my past? 

Shoko looks at me like I am a pink elephant wearing a tutu. 

“You really have no idea?”

“No, I told you, he just asked for a picture.”

Who the hell is he?

Yuji, the pro basketball player. Did he have a scandal I don’t know about and taking a picture with him wasn’t a good move. 

Well, lack of knowledge doesn’t save you from backlash, but Shoko acts like someone posted a video of me skinning puppies alive. 

“Short and sweet, this is Satorus mortal enemy on and off the ice.”

Shoko explains dryly: “And you better run, because if Satoru sees this, he will use your bones to make a new Ice Hockey stick.”

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Mortal enemy?

On the ice?

That motherfucker is an Ice Hockey Player!

I grab her phone and click on his profile. 

Sukuna Ryomen. Not Yuji.

Ice Hockey. Not basketball.

Center player for the New Jersey Devils. No fucking way.

What kind of fuckery is this? 

I feel like the last few days I got way too many situations like this, where I just get thrown under the bus, but this, this is next level shit. 

He lied to me years ago and kept the lie running. 

Well, I decided to play in his cards by not googling him. 

Keeping him a mystery, a ghost. 

Great idea, now he is back and alive, ready to jump me like a lion a gazelle. He kind of did that already. 

I don’t care about Satorus hatred against him. For now.

All I think about is why he was at the stadium years ago!?

Was he sent by my father? According to his profile, he was already playing for the Devils at that time. 

What is doing on? 

The binding technique, the unknown pill. 

Sabotage.

He truly was there to sabotage me. To end my career. 

One hundred percent did my father send him. 

I was getting more and more media coverage at that time. After all, I was a candidate for the Olympics. My father got asked more and more questions about me. He surely knew how to ignore them, but they must have bothered him. So much so that he sent someone over to sabotage my career. To end it and then he would have never heard of me again. 

It all made sense. 

But his little trick didn’t work, it did the opposite. 

Oh, he must have been so pissed. So pissed seeing me win and a few weeks later announcing that I will be skating for the Olympics. 

Definitely a vein popped in his forehead. 

The door swings open loudly as it crashes against the wall.

“Here we go.”, Shoko takes her phone out of my hand and steps backwards, seemingly wanting to escape whatever is coming our way.

Satoru with his head tilted forwards, angry like a bull seeing red. 

Fitting, I have a red pilates set on.

Behind him Suguru tries to entangle Satoru in a conversation, but it doesn’t work. Satoru stops right in front of me and I would do everything for him to just scream at me and get it over with, instead he is so calm. 

Calm like the sea before a tsunami.

“What is this?”, he shows me the same picture I just saw a second ago on Shokos phone.

“Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? You took a cute little picture with Sukuna. Anything else I need to know?”, he gestures with his hand fastly, something I have never seen him do before: “Like have you given him a quick update on how my recovery is going or I don’t know, fucked him.”

I was expecting a lot of accusations but fucking him. 

“Satoru”, Suguru chimes in, in a warning tone, but even he is looking at me like I did skin puppies alive.

Satoru ignores him completely, just staring at me. His height was always intimidating but now it is fucking terrifying.

But I am too stubborn and actually really hurt by his accusation, especially the last one. I will not allow someone to talk down on me again. I have changed.

“Yes Satoru, right between the bananas and the apples in the fruit aisle”, the moment I said it, the moment I regretted it. Satoru is so irrational right now, he would take everything seriously. He snorts with a menacing smile forming on his face. 

“I see, no denying.”

Different approach. 

“Listen, I just told Shoko I had no idea who he is. He just asked me for a picture.”

There is no reason for me to tell him about my past with Sukuna. It has nothing to do with Satoru and the situation I am in. I will keep it to myself. I see no sense in telling him about it and making him probably even angrier for being so foolish to not looking more into that guy who nearly ended my career. 

This is a conflict between my father, Sukuna and me. No need to drag Satoru into this. 

“How stupid do you think I am?”, Satoru replies, not even listening to me: “I fell for your little act of having no clue about Ice Hockey because it made sense, but now it is just getting ridiculous.”

That hurt like hell, worse than my foot inside the binding. 

Yeah, my life is a performance and I act like people want me to. 

But I never acted when it came to Satoru. I tried in the car on our first meeting, but he saw right through me and since I was always myself around him. 

“I was never acting around you and you know it”, tears start to sting in my eyes. 

This is all a big misunderstanding and it could be solved so easily if he just listens. 

“I just want you to tell me the truth and stop wasting my time.”

“Oh, you want the truth? I will give you the truth”, neither Satoru nor I should talk to each other right now. We are too emotional when it comes to the other person, but I am so hurt from his ignorance towards me. How can he not believe me? Whatever rivalry is between Sukuna and him, it goes deep. 

“Even if I was that evil mastermind who lured you into a trap.”, well, fuck I lured him into a trap once, but he did it too! He isn’t a saint either, but to accuse me of working together with a member of my fathers team is too much: “What could I have told Sukuna about you, huh? How all I know about you is readable on your fucking wikipedia page? Because you certainly didn’t tell me anything half the planet doesn’t know about you already!”

I keep holding eye contact with him, even when I feel the tears flowing now. “How I only saw you train for like thirty minutes and I have no idea about your progress? I never asked you or anyone else about your recovery or training plan or I don’t even know what. I have no idea who you truly are.”

He doesn’t answer me, just keeps meeting my eyes, like trying to find something in them so he can doubt me again. 

He doesn’t want to trust me. 

I thought about trust a lot. How I have trouble trusting Satoru, but I kind of disregarded that he might feel the same way about me. Not fully trusting me and with a situation like this. I would have probably reacted the same way. 

One thing is clear, he is hurt as well. 

“Okay, this is getting out of hand”, Suguru steps in between us, tearing our staring contest apart. 

“Both of you need to calm down! Whatever Sukunas intention was by posting this picture, he would probably have a big, fat grin on his face seeing you two go against each other!”, Suguru takes a deep breath. I look at Suguru but I still feel Satorus penetrating stare at me. 

“Toji surely told them about the contract between you two. Sukuna will do everything to throw you off course, Satoru”, he touches Satorus shoulder to get him to listen. 

I hear Shoko sucking in a breath and underlay Sugurus comments: “Suguru is right, it seems like he tries to get under your skin. Sukuna will do everything to keep you from performing your best. I mean he tried a similar play between Suguru and you years ago.”

I give Shoko a questioning glance but she just shrugs her shoulders. Whatever, I know nothing about Satoru anyway, why should it matter what happened years ago between the three of them. 

Yeah, whatever!

All this talk about being a team and partner, fuck it. I don’t care. I was never part of his team to begin with. 

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

But I do care.

The contract means as much to me as I thought it meant to Satoru. It is my chance to come to terms with all that happened in my life. 

My absent father.

My overzealous mother. 

My madly ascent as a figure skater. 

Maybe I should just really call a therapist. 

I should turn around and leave, never looking back and forget the time we had. Just go into my room and lay in my bed, figuring my life out on my own. 

However in the end I am not a quitter. I signed this contract and I will do everything to keep it running. 

Everything is one big misunderstanding and I need to bash this in Satorus head. Of course my feelings are hurt because I feel like I have shown him parts of me no one knows and he didn’t give me anything back. 

But there was a reason why he wanted me as his fake girlfriend. Me and no one else, because we understand each other on a level most can’t relate to. I need to break his walls down, one by one. 

I like to think I had harder challenges. 

Satoru exhales, taking in what Suguru and Shoko said. He rubs his hands over his face, pressing his finger into his eye sockets. 

“I didn’t m- I need a minute”, with that he just leaves, walking to the locker rooms. 

Silence between the three of us. I know Suguru will be the first one to say something, probably telling me to give Satoru some time and everything will work out after a rational talk. 

Not this time, Suguru. This time I will do it my way. 

Without another word I follow Satoru, Suguru calling me from behind to let him be. I don’t listen as I keep walking, storming into the locker room.

“I said I need a minute”, Satoru groans loudly, probably thinking I am Suguru by the way his voice sounds. 

It is like a Deja Vu from another point of view. How he is the one sitting on a bench, mind going haywires and just done with the world as I storm into the room with one thing in mind. Getting him back on track. 

I’m Sukuna and Satoru is me from all those years ago. 

Well, it is debatable what Sukunas true intention was by getting my ass back on the ice, but I know what mine is.  

“Hey, Loser”, I chuckle as I lean against the wall in front of him, looking at him with a grin plastered on my face.

I will use the same tactic Sukuna used on me. I will use Sukunas own weapon to get his mortal enemy back on track, but I will make it better. 

The pure degradation from Sukuna made me go mad. I mean I nearly lost my career alongside my foot. What I would have needed, was a slap in the face to wake up and a gentle kiss after to make me realize I have worth. 

Degradation and praise. 

My weapons are better.

“What did you call me?”

“Want me to repeat it?”

“Yes, say it again”, his voice is so low, I start to get goosebumps and regret my plan. Maybe it doesn’t work on Satoru. Maybe we aren’t as similar, but I remember being mad at Sukuna too, I think I was only more bewildered because I didn’t know him. 

“I said you are a loser”, my confidence slips a bit and he can see it. 

I hate how easily he reads me. 

“Care to elaborate?”, he grins back and yeah, this isn’t going the way it did with Sukuna and me. This bastard is enjoying this.  

I seem to have forgotten that there is one big difference between Satoru and me and this is confidence. 

My confidence outside the rink is all fake, while his’ never leaves. He probably never thought of himself as a loser.

“It is just a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

Laughter from him, but if you listen closely you can hear the difference between his real one and this one. 

I can pick up a bit of sourness. 

My words got to him. I mean it is probably the first time ever someone talked to him like this. Someone he cares about. 

Tell me what you want, but I know he cares at least a tiny bit about me. He has to for our contract to work. 

“I’m still waiting for the elaboration, princess.”

 I want to roll my eyes. Not even five minutes ago he accused me of being this evil mastermind and now he acts like nothing happened between us, like he can just call me princess and get away with it. 

Okay, I will let him get away with it, but just because I have a more important mission.

“You got all unreasonable and threw a fit because I took an innocent picture with a man I didn’t know was your self-appointed mortal enemy. Hard to believe this is how the legend Satoru Gojo behaves.”

His eyes darkened and I think I overstepped slightly. Well, there is no turning back now. 

What's said is said. 

“You complain about not knowing me, but once I show you a side of me, you complain even more.”

“That’s not what I was complaining about and you know it.”, I sigh and change the theme, because I don’t want to start a discussion about this. 

This conversation is about him, not about my hurt feelings. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to believe this is the real you”, I walk over to him and kneel down in front of him, looking up to meet his damning eyes.

“I don’t believe it. You are smart, smarter than most people I know. You think ahead for your five teammates and know your opponents by heart. You are the fastest, strongest and most versatile player in the NHL. And you are funny and kind in your own way, so don’t tell me the way you just acted out there is part of you. Whatever your issue with Sukuna is, he uses your hatred against him to bring out a part of you that isn’t you. An irrational and cruel loser.”

Sukuna did the same to me and I didn’t even know him prior to that. He made me irrational by playing with my insecurity of losing and made me cruel by the way I ended up talking with my mother. 

All these were my actions and I’m to blame for it, but everything would have turned out differently without him. 

He didn’t make me the person I am today. I will not give him that. The irrational and cruel side he handed me will be bashed once and for all.

I won’t give him credit anymore for giving me my titles. He isn’t the reason I made it to the Olympics. I could have done it on my own, because deep down I had all the strength in myself I needed. I am not a loser.

“Did you google my stats?”, is all he says to me after I told him a lot of nice things about himself. 

“Had to, it is not like you ever told me about yourself or your team”, my mouth turns into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry, I saw red and I overreacted. Suguru, Shoko and you are right. He wants to get inside my head to mess with me.”

“He is afraid you will come back stronger than ever and beat his ass”, now I smile at him and I get a harumph back but with a light smile playing on his lips. 

I would give everything to see him all smiles and dimples again, but it might take time. 

He takes my chin in his hand and looks at me with his intense eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, can you forgive this irrational and cruel loser?” 

“I only see a rational and kind winner in front of me, but sure.”

“You will be the death to me”, he laughs and I’m glad I got the smiles and dimples faster back than expected. 

“Come here”, he slaps on his leg and helps me get back up to sit down on his lap.

A small voice in my mind tells me to ask him if he was jealous of Sukuna in this picture. The fucking part in his accusations was rather random and I first thought it was to just randomly hurt me, but maybe there was a bit of jealousy. I should ask him, tease him about it, but it is going well now, I shouldn’t test my luck. 

Even the best players run out of it and I tested the limits with Satoru enough for one day. 

He pulls me closer and slings his arms around my back, pressing me to his chest and oh, his crotch. 

“I can’t believe you are hard right now.”

I don’t know why I said that outloud but I did. Nuzzling his head into the croak of my neck, he breaths in my hair and chortles. 

“Believe it, it’s the stress.”

“So you are hard 24/7?”

“Only when you are around.”

“You are such a smooth talker”, I giggle and hate myself for the way I react. 

“I think red just turned into my favorite color”, he pushes my hair back to get access to my neck, kissing it softly. I feel his fingers linger on the hem of my tight shirt, ready to pull it over my head.

“Then I should better keep it on so you have more of it.”

He grunts and bites me lightly in the shoulder, sending goosebumps down my spine.

“Let me take it off, okay?”

Instantly I want to do nothing more than nod my head, but a thought crosses my mind. 

“This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Another grunt. 

“Please don’t tell me you were serious with the one time thing”, he leans back from my neck and looks at me, waiting to accept a rejection. 

I actually was, but now I am not anymore. The problem lies somewhere else. 

“What if someone comes in?”

“A big surprise for them”, he grins widely.

“Not funny”, I roll my eyes: “I’m serious.”

“You are always too serious”, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“And you aren’t serious enough. Suguru could come in and catch us.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I punch his shoulder lightly.

“It does! I don’t want him nor anyone else from the team to know about this”, I wave my finger between Satoru and me back and forth. 

“Not to break your little bubble, but they already know”, I stare with a shocked expression at him, ready to punch him for real this time. 

If he dared to-

“You weren’t exactly quiet the other night and the walls are rather thin.”

Now I wish he would have told them instead, that would be way less embarrassing. I grumble in my hands, hiding my face out of sheer mortification. Satoru just laughs, as always and grabs my hands, pulling them off my face. “It is fine.”

“It is not”, I pout. Is today my personal humiliation day? A new holiday I didn’t know about.

“It really is, princess.”

I didn’t want anyone, especially Suguru, to know I had slept with Satoru. It comes across as extremely incompetent regarding our whole contract. Our entire relationship should have stayed professional. I don’t want to know what Suguru is thinking of me. He had the most trust in me and I ended up sleeping with Satoru not even a few days into the contract. 

I’m weak. At least when it comes to Satoru. 

Wait.

This is the chance. A draw!

There is no insecurity for him to fuck out of my mind. He wants to hook up with me out of sheer fun? Lust? Whatever it is, it will create the draw I so desperately want to have. 

I want to be on equal terms again. 

“But we don’t need to anymore, you know. No more insecurity inside my head.”

Well, no more insecurity regarding looking at him and being close to him. 

“I know, but I just want to be inside you”, he looks at me with a small, pleading pout: “No, I need to be inside you.”

I exhale a steamy breath. He is again at the hem of my shirt, pulling it slightly up, rough fingertips traveling over my skin. 

“Don’t make me beg, unless it turns you on, then I will gladly beg”, his mouth is against my jawline, leaving a trail of kisses and small bites.

I nod and reap a ‘tz’ from him. 

“Give me a clear yes or no.”

I shouldn’t.

“Yes”, and his lips are suddenly on mine, just leaving them for a second as he pulls my top over my head. 

With slightly cold hands he squeezes my breasts, a moan escaping my mouth, which he catches with his. He rolls my already hard nipples between his fingers before choosing the one on the left side to close his lips around and lick. I whimper and lean my head back, giving him even more access as his now unoccupied hand enters my waistband. 

“Angel”, he whispers in my ear: “Get up for a second, we need to get rid of your pants, okay?”

He talks to me like I am slow on the uptake and at this moment I feel like it. I’m in a delicious delirium as I stand up and hold myself up on Satorus shoulders. He gets rid of my pants, not we. In a swift motion he brings me back on his lap and kisses me again, his tongue asking for excess to enter my mouth and I let him with a small sob. I want to open his pants, but he grabs my eager hands quickly. 

“I know we don’t have a lot of time, but you need to be a bit prepared, okay?”, again he talks to me slowly and I just nod, not knowing why we need to be quick. 

…

The skating course!

Dragged out of my delirium I look around for a watch. Satoru catches me scowling and states: “Don’t worry, we still have enough time.”

I pucker my lips for a second but I ended up trusting him, not wanting to call it quits now. 

And no, this isn’t just about me wanting this to. This is all about getting equal again. In my head I mentally make the note to let this really be the last time. After this Satoru and I will just be partners like we are in a law firm. 

Before I can even write the note mentally down, the thought is gone as he wets two of his fingers with his tongue before stuffing them inside my mouth too. I twirl my tongue around them too as he pulls them back out with a blop. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and slightly lifts me up as I kneel on his lap. 

Then he creeps his fingers at a slow pace up and down in between my fold to gather slick. I lean forward and lift myself a bit more up to give him better excess. Steady but so, so, so slowly he enters me. His thumb is drawing soft circles on my clit while he starts to move his fingers in and out. So slow like we are in no hurry, like he wants to torture me. 

“Please Satoru, faster”, I cry in his ear.

“Nah, angel”, he presses a kiss on my temple.

“This is your punishment for taking that picture.”

I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook about this picture so quickly. 

“Please, I had no idea”, I groan frustrated and sling my arms around his neck for support as I start to move my hips, trying to create speed and friction on my own. My plan failed as Satoru keeps my hips in place with his other arm around my waist now. 

“Should have thought about that before taking a picture with a random man.”

He can’t be serious, right?

How am I supposed to know Satoru has a mortal enemy out there, who out of nowhere appears in front of me at the supermarket. 

Sukuna called it fate, but what was it really?

With a light bite in my cheek, Satoru brings me back to the present as his fingers once again enter me lazily. 

“This is unfair”, I complain against his neck, thinking if I touch him more it will make him more excited, giving me what I want. 

My hands wander under his shirt, along his hard abs to his nipples, stroking them slightly. That move earned me a rough exhale from him between shut teeth. 

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Everything, I will promise you everything”, I am so desperate to get off. I can feel the coil inside me building up but it isn’t going to snap at this slow pace.

“Whatever happens between us, never fuck Sukuna, promise.”

Again his insecurity when it comes to Sukuna and me. Is it really a jealousy thing? I can’t imagine Satoru ever being jealous of someone. 

“I promise, really, I will always be on your team even if you don’t want me to.”

He looks at me with an amazed grimace before locking our lips again, finally speeding up. The lazy circles on my clit turn into rougher ones as his fingers pump into me. I breathe heavily into his shoulder as my legs start to quiver and the strength to keep them up tardily leaves me. 

He knows exactly where my weak spot is, as he supports my weight with his muscular arm, hitting the same sweet spot over and over again as his fingers work their wonders to make me cum. The coil that was built on at the slow movements, quickly grows bigger before it explodes and I cum undone around his fingers. My walls pulsate around his fingers as he lets me ride my orgasm out on them. 

I’m out of breath but I can’t wait any longer. I want him inside me right now. With shaky hands I open his pants and lift myself up on my wobbly knees to pull his pants down. His erection springs free and yeah, no baby carrot. 

Nevertheless I am still intimidated but I had him already in me and I survived it and even better liked, no loved it.

“Slow down, partner”, Satoru yelps out of breath as I position myself on top of his dick. 

“No.”, I kiss him and sink down on him, feeling my walls painfully stretch around his massive girth. He leans back, pressing his back against the wall for support and giving me time to adjust and do everything at my speed. His eyes are closed and I know he wants to do nothing more than move his hips at an incredible pace to drill into me.

But he is patient as I slip slowly down his cock, letting out small whines, each one making his cock flutter inside of me. Once I am all settled down, I take a short breather adjusting myself.

Soon enough I start to roll my hips to let him know I am ready. His reaction was immediate as he grips my hips hard, boring his fingers into the soft flesh on my stomach and just fucks raw into me. I gasp and tears escape my eyes at the sudden rough friction. My eyes roll back as he lets go off my hip with one arm, laying it now flat against my back and gripping my neck from behind. Hand in my hair to keep me steady as he slides his dick in and out of me with loud groans. He has to use a lot of strength to not keep me from falling off his lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not breaking a sweat over this. His tongue moves from my shoulder to my neck, up my jaw to my mouth where it means mine. 

I’m so full of him I feel everything so intense that it is mind numbing. Whenever his white pubic hair meets my clit, it sends a shiver down from head to toe. 

“Maybe I will just mark you”, he bites into my lip before kissing me again: “Making it clear who you belong to.”

He lets go of my hip and grabs my jaw between his long fingers to make me look at him.

“Would you like that, angel? Letting everyone know you are mine?”

I nod and babble a few yesyesyes.

Surely this is all filthy sex talk, right? He doesn’t really mean it. I am not his. 

“I could cum on your face and make you walk around like that or fill you up with so much of my cum your birth control fails and you will be round with my baby.”

Whatever he wants, he can have and I make sure to tell him that as I wail into the palm of my hand to keep myself quiet. 

This time we aren’t team players as we both chase our own release. His thrusts get sloppier as he supports my legs with his hands so I don’t break down on him. My chest is pressed against his, since I lost the power to uphold my body on its own. Before I lose my strength completely I climax and my head falls heavy on his shoulder as I start to see stars behind my closed eyes. 

“No one fucks you so good.”

I’m not sure if it was a statement or a question, but I can’t speak anyway, so I just nod against his hard shoulder.

Feeling my walls open and close around his dick, Satoru slides one more time fully into me, his pubic hair chilling against my clit again as he fills me up with his warm sperm, twitching inside of me until he is completely milked.

My head is resting on his shoulder and he is resting his’ on mine. 

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but after a while Satoru slaps my ass, making me jolt. 

“Time to get ready, can’t let them kids wait, right?”, he pulls me up, his dick slipping out of me, suddenly leaving me feeling empty and abandoned. Carefully he carries me to the side, my naked ass on the bench now as he gets up and pulls his pants up. He picks up my clothes and grabs a few paper towels from the shelf, placing all next to me on the bench while I am still in a state of trance. He smirks at my fucked out gooey form and slicks my hair out of my face. 

“I need to discuss something with Suguru. I will be back once the course starts.”

For a second it looks like he is leaning in for a kiss, but then he retracts and pats my shoulder like we are buddies!? As if his dick wasn’t a few seconds ago getting freaky inside my bowels. He turns around and leaves without saying another word or waiting for a response. 

I got my draw. 

But with the worst outcome possible. Being left alone, naked, with his cum leaking out of me and nothing has changed, I still know nearly nothing about him. 

Sukuna is his enemy, but why exactly does he hate him so much? It can’t be just that he is on an opposite team. 

And what does Suguru have to do with this? 

I lied to all of them. I told them I had no idea who Sukuna was. 

Well, that’s actually true to an extent, but I didn’t mention our past. 

If Satoru can have his secrets, I can have mine too.

As long as they don’t come back and bite me in the ass. 

[ultraviolet-psyche]

Love how today's episode goes into the stigma of pop idols being at an older age and having children. I especially love how at the end, when Miiko comes clean about her true age and circumstances, her fanbase continues to support her, and they realise they have new reasons to appreciate her now.

I also think this episode really demonstrates how Miiko and Kano's mother are foils to each other. Both of them are involved in the idol industry in some way. Miiko has her shortcomings as a mother, but she's well aware of that and she strives to improve for the sake of her daughter, because at the end of the day, she loves Ariel with all her heart and she would do anything for her. Kano's mother on the other hand doesn't seem to have that unconditional love for her daughter. I'm sure we'll learn more about her relationship with Kano in future episodes, but we know that it's quite a rocky one.

I also think it's really cool to have a well-developed mother character who is more than just a mother, who has her own triumphs and struggles just like anyone else. Honestly, I didn't expect to ever see Miiko ever again, let alone see her be in the spotlight for an episode, but she's officially one of my favourite characters now.

Also it's just so sweet to see Mei and Ariel bond over their love for their oshis. It's so cute.

And the kiss from last episode was briefly acknowledged haha. Poor Kano, she looked so flustered!

[minban]

wipe that cute, smug look off your face. / miyumei ❤️ what a cruel world it is when no matter what he does kazuya can't even fake sulking at mei for more than 2 seconds, let alone actually be mad at him 😭

@yeonban / the can't-stop-flirting list

"you think i'm cute?" mei asks instead of wiping the smug look off his face, enjoying how easy it is to tease his sweet wonderful boyfriend should mei be in the mood for it. he presses himself against kazuya, hugging him with his arms wrapped around his boyfriend, soaking up the warmth that feels as if it were liquid affection beaming onto his skin. with full confidence that kazuya would not push him away, mei leans his head against kazuya's shoulders and smiles. teasing his boyfriend is one of his all time favorite past times, but simply holding onto each other like this just about triumphs anything else that mei could imagine doing.

"i think you're cute too," mei giggles as he brings one of his hands up to pinch kazuya's cheeks. the action brings a wonderful shade of red to his boyfriend's face, and mei can't help how he leans up on his toes to leave a kiss right over the very spot as a silent apology. right here, pressed against his boyfriend, is right where he belongs. mei can only hope that kazuya feels the same way. "c'mon, stop sulking." mei unwraps his arms around kazuya so that he may grab his hands, softly tugging them. "we can go practice for a bit if you want?"

[cuchufletapl]

how to speak (modern AU)

Triple drabble for Edling Week 2024. Day 5: beauty / kismet / triumph / horizon.

@edling-week

AO3

They spend the last days of June togther, but they don’t do any of their previously planned stuff. Sprawled on the sofa, they play Mario Kart, not bringing the matter up, the fan whirring at top speed. Ed loses with a blue shell yell of rage, and Ling’s Princess Peach crosses the finish line laughing.

“Rematch?” Ed offers, but Ling declines.

They leave the controllers between the cushions and get out to the veranda. Summer is plucking out the few flowers left in the unkempt garden. I don’t know how to do this, says one of them. I don’t either, says the other. It’d be nice if things didn’t have to be this way, but c’est la vie.

Ling is leaving the day after tomorrow. His exchange studies program only lasts one year.

“Are you done packing?” Ed asks, crouching on the grass, shredding a poppy.

“I’ll start tonight.”

“And what if you run out of time, moron.”

“Hey.” A friendly tap with his foot. “You can’t speak like that to the 150cc podium king.”

“Only three out of five times!”

Ling laughs. The cicadas get frightened and quiet down when they hear him, and the sudden absence of their song falls over the boys like a heat wave blanket. Sighing, Ed stops pretending to be so terribly annoyed at losing on the Wii and stands up. He sticks his hands in his pockets, all nonchalance.

“You know that place Al talks about sometimes?”

“Where he took Mei on their first date?”

“The river pools with the tiny waterfalls, yeah. It’s pretty beautiful. And you can jump into the water from like eight meters high.”

“Mm-hm?”

“When you come back, I’ll take you.”

Ling smiles and takes one of Ed’s hands out of his pocket to interlace their fingers.

“Deal.”

[ancientforgcd]

Kiana metas i still have in my drafts

“The World Moved On Without Her” → She saved everything, but now there’s nothing left for her to do. No battles, no purpose. Just silence. And no one knows what to say to the hero once she’s not needed.

“Every Victory Cost Her Something” → Nothing she’s done came clean. Every win left a scar. Every triumph took something from her.

“Her Friends Got to Heal. She Had to Keep Going” → Others broke, paused, took time to recover. Kiana kept walking through the fire because no one else could.

“She Forgave Everyone But Herself” → She made peace with Sirin. She let Mei go. She let Himeko rest. But she still can’t look in the mirror without feeling like she should’ve done more.

“Kiana Doesn’t Want to Be Respected” → People call her ma’am. Captain. Herrscher. She hates it. She just wants someone to talk to her like she’s still the same girl.

“Kiana Is Proof That Survival Isn’t Always Victory” → She made it. She's alive. But that doesn’t mean she won.

“Kiana Doesn’t Know If She’d Do It Again” → She saved the world. But if she had the choice, knowing what it cost, would she still pick the same path?

[gentlehousenicole]

UPDATE: These headcanons are now out of date given the plot details revealed in v.1.4.

----------------------------------------------------------------------- Something I really like about the current (likely) Void Hunters is the role they play in the story and within their respective factions.

Miyabi is set up as this mysterious badass who goes up against Nineveh singlehandedly, but we soon learn she's a complete dork who tries and hilariously fails to pass on “sage wisdom” to Phaethon and Zhu Yuan. Officially, she's the head of Section 6, but she's lazy and in their episode we find out it's really Yanagi who's that team's effective leader, and the only one who can keep them even quasi-functional. She's the one who “Virtual Revenge” is about. Miyabi, by contrast, just hangs back and conserves her energy for the really big fights. Her possible parallels and looming conflict with Phaethon, however, are tantalizing.

Lighter is introduced early in the Sons of Calydon story, but we don't actually learn anything much about him until long after Chapter 4 has concluded. He has this epic story of triumph, tragedy, grief, acceptance and moving on to a new life, but it's all told in aside comments, flashbacks and paratext, Even today he's fighting a one-man war against the enemies of the Sons of Calydon that nobody on the team (save probably Burnice, because Burnice is probably some kind of Elder God herself /lh) even knows about, because their story isn't about him. Lighter is almost the definition of “Hero from Another Story”.

Jane straight-up abandoned her identity and sense of self to become this unknowable, mercurial force: She slips so effortlessly into whatever undercover identity and personality any given mission requires of her, because we learn next to nothing about the “real” Jane, and even when we do the shadow of the unreliable narrator is inescapable. The hints we do glean indicate she's been through quite a lot, and is fighting for justice her own way on her own terms. Jane doesn't seem to have much Love for Public Security, if any at all, and isn't an official PubSec officer. She certainly seems commanding, inspiring and experienced, however.

Qingyi is one of the oldest, wisest and most experienced people in New Eridu, but openly serves as the apparently-young Zhu Yuan's subordinate in an interesting inversion of Miyabi's relationship with Yanagi. Zhu Yuan relies on Qingyi's wisdom and guidance to help her make decisions, yet it's Zhu Yuan who gets all the accolades, fame and attention. Not that she doesn't deserve it, she's clearly gifted, incredibly competent and professional, but it's almost like Qingyi doesn't want the spotlight on herself for some reason. To her, it seems more like she views her role as helping Zhu Yuan be the hero New Eridu needs her to be.

Nicole is one of the first characters we meet in the game and somehow seems to be involved in every significant event in New Eridu's recent history...And yet isn't it interesting she tells us nothing about herself and doesn't appear to have a story of her own? She's the leader of Gentle House, but Anby, Billy and Nekomata are much more prominent in the game's events: Chapter 1 is effectively a character study on Nekomata, while Billy's ties to the Sons of Calydon make him central to Chapter 4 and Lighter's side stories. The game also really seems to want us to Love Anby, with her as the tutorial character for numerous in-game mechanics, her combining traits of both Kiana and Mei from Honkai, her movie obsession ("Who better to pair up with Phaethon?") and the fact she's ZZZ's official mascot. Billy, Anby and Nekomata are also prominently involved in Chapter 3. Nicole, by contrast...Pops in every now and again to give Phaethon a plot-important quest and/or MacGuffin (usually in timed events), and quite literally sits Chapter 3 out.

Even in terms of gameplay these characters play curious roles: Lighter and Qingyi are Stunners and I like using them to support Burnice and Zhu Yuan, respectively (though they can certainly also both hold their own). Jane, being a lone wolf, can easily carry a team in battle despite being an Anomaly-class, but is helped by having people who can back her up and compound her status effect skills. Nicole is quite literally a Support character, and while she is always my leader she plays best on my teams when she can fire the opening shot, swap out to a dedicated DPS character and then pop in and out now and again with artillery fire to keep the rally going. Remarkably, and tellingly, Nicole's best teams are with Jane and Qingyi...But only if Zhu Yuan is also with them.

Why is this? I think it's because it's a manifestation of Zenless Zone Zero's core theme: Dealing with the pain and grief of nostalgia for an idealized past we cannot return to (and it's debatable whether or not it even existed to begin with). The Seven Great Void Hunters were the heroes of a previous generation; an entire era ago, as General Falkenhayn tells us in “Where the Miracle Began”. They've all had their stories, and the game we are playing now is not about them. It's the job of those who are left to help build the future by mentoring and guiding the next generation of heroes to come into their own and help build New Eridu once more.

That's a theme and archetype that resonates with me on a deep, personal level, and is part of the reason I wanted to make this blog for Nicole.

Nikola.

[skellebonez]

Lost To The Flames

The first fic for @lunar-wandering's Monkie Destiny Challenge! I am doing 8 prompts per "week", sometimes using both prompts per day and sometimes just one. This one includes:

Beginning/End, Fire, Patience, Thief (sort of), Shatter, Fear, Truth, Mountain/Chains

AO3 Link!

Sun Wukong remembered how most of his reality ended: in a burst of green flame and a laugh of triumph that quickly turned turned into screams that “this wasn’t part of her Destiny”.

Sun Wukong remembered hearing this from far away, like he was trapped in a glass bowl. Not quite able to do anything about it and yet wanting to all the same. And then he was moving. And then everything was in perfect sight and all too clear.

And then he felt the flames.

He still felt the flames.

He would always feel the flames now.

He sort of remembered a time where the flames didn’t burn his skin, when he still had fur on his entire body. It didn’t matter that large chunks of it were gone now, he would still be warm in this world without it. And there was some relief from the burning, thanks to Lao Tzu.

Quite frankly, Sun Wukong was amazed that man didn’t seem to hold a grudge after he ransacked his lab all those centuries ago. But maybe that was him expecting the worst. Or maybe Lao Tzu was able to see the bigger picture and recognize than some old grudges were pointless to keep in the state of the world as it was now.

It was… gone.

Not entirely, of course, but the world as it was… the mortal world, at least, was gone. Destroyed in that burst of green flames of the Samadhi Fire than Mei wielded against her wishes.

It wasn’t Mei’s fault.

If there was only one truth all the survivor’s agreed on it was that it wasn’t Mei’s fault.

No one expected her to control it, not after that.

Macaque blamed the Lady Bone Demon. Why her specifically and not the Great Sage, who stood by and watched it happen in an instant, Sun Wukong did not know.

The celestials (most of them) blamed Sun Wukong.

He couldn’t exactly argue with them. He blamed himself after all.

Not that they wanted to (or could) do anything about it, now that there was almost nothing outside the Celestial Realm to protect now. Even a good portion of that had been lost to the flames, chunks of it far from the Jade Emperor’s palace still burning even decades later.

Sun Wukong wondered if MK would blame him too. But he could no longer ask.

MK hadn’t been awake for a long time, trapped in some kind of… not exactly a coma. A sort of limbo state. Alive while completely unaware and asleep, requiring nothing to sustain him. It was a mystery that no one could quite solve. Was it the power of the fire? Was it something else? No one knew for sure.

No one was even sure this was all the fire’s doing in the first place.

It was so… odd. Yes, the Samadhi Fire was said to have the power to destroy reality. And clearly it destroyed parts of it. But there was something else to this, almost like some element of chaos added to the mix that almost changed things. Maybe it was Mei’s own will and control of the fire, maybe it was something else… but some things survived. Some changed.

Not everything was gone. Just most of it.

Most of the mortals were killed, which was something to be expected, but many somehow survived. The ones important to Mei or farthest away from it all.

And they seemed trapped in time.

Sun Wukong supposed that if the fire could destroy reality, destroying the passage of time wasn’t out of the question.

It did mean that MK, should he ever wake, would be spared waking to learn that his friends and family had passed over the 100 years since the calamity. But it also did mean the mortals were getting… antsy.

Sun Wukong watched on from his position in the Celestial Realm, as Tang and Pigsy went through the motions of gardening on their little outcrop of spared land. Every day it was the same. Wake up, breakfast, garden, check on their friends, have lunch, evening activities, dinner, sleep. Pigsy had taken up attempting to invent new types of food while Tang, no longer able to only keep up his scholarly activities due to boredom, had taken to writing.

Sandy made to sail off every few months, see how the rest of the world fared and bring back what he could. He had become a very accomplished tradesman in the meantime.

The Demon Bull family had taken to housing travelers and refugees from the calamity. It seemed to be an unheeded calling they had missed before. Red Son…

He helped when he could.

But he was almost always with Mei.

No one had the heart to tell him to leave her be.

Sun Wukong sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When had he last slept? He couldn’t recall. He didn’t exactly NEED to sleep that much given his immortality. Besides, he would rather keep up with his new position.

Oh the irony…

He once rebelled against this realm for giving him a made up title and a low ranking job. Now he had a job that meant nothing, gave him no real duties, and another made up title that gave him one of the highest ranks.

Perhaps it was Erlang Shen trying to avoid a second Havoc event. Or, perhaps, he felt pity for Sun Wukong and wanted to make him feel special.

Either way, Sun Wukong’s job was to observe and document the mortal and celestial realms. That was it. He was given the title of Observer of the Calamity, a title that meant nothing at all. Erlang Shen claimed it would give him a ranking just below himself, the new Jade Emperor, and would put him as a sort of advisor role to him. One of the highest ranks in the entire Celestial court.

It meant nothing.

A lot meant nothing now.

Outside the fire that still burned under his skin.

“You should go to them,” a voice suddenly called out behind him. Sun Wukong would have jumped, had he not expected this voice like clockwork. Nezha continued, laying a gentle hand on the sage’s shoulder, careful to avoid a burnt patch of skin. “You know you’re not obligated to trap yourself here.”

“I know,” Sun Wukong said, barely looking away from the realm. He did reach out, patting the Lotus’s Prince’s wrist with his tail to acknowledge the touch on his shoulder. His hands were busy writing everything down. They ached horribly. “But-”

“Please,” Nezha asked softly. Too softly. Sun Wukong missed the days when he would grow mad at the elder, when he would snark and scream and berate him. Now he just looked at him with pity. It was worse than hate. “Visit them. You deserve SOME freedom from your duties. It would be good for you all.”

“Wow,” Sun Wukong said with a heavy laugh. “Never thought I would hear the Lotus Prince himself ordering his superior to take a break.”

“Asking,” Nezha corrected. “As a friend.”

Well… how could he say no to that?

Sun Wukong sighed, standing with a stretch.

“Only because a friend asked me,” he said. “I… have been meaning to visit Mei this year anyway.”

“I feel like…” Nezha trailed off. “I feel like today is the day to go. I don’t know why. I just do.”

“Even if it’s just her talking to me? That would be enough,” Sun Wukong said with a nod. Mei had not talked to him for multiple yearly visits, too busy in her focus to even recognize his presence. It was apparently like that for most of the year, according to Red Son. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and SOMETHING will change this time!”

“Let’s hope,” Nezha said with a smile.

Sun Wukong did not expect the hug he was assaulted with as he made to leave his observatory… but he would be lying if he regretted letting go of his friend to leave.

Even the pain of contact on his burns meant nothing against the first contact he had in the last month locked away of his own will, mental chains in a new mountain of his own making.

~

He tried not to think of the screams.

Not to think of the fire.

Not to think of Mei weeping over MK’s body.

Not to think of the shard of ice or crystal or whatever it was that the Lady used that jutted from his chest, tinged in a red that shouldn’t be there.

Not to think of how badly he wanted to destroy the Lady Bone Demon before Mei took that honor for herself.

Not to think of the look of fear and then the smile on MK’s face as he assured them he would be ok.

Not to think of everyone screaming as Mei screamed, the fire burning harder and brighter and then everything… burning.

Not to think how, out of everyone there, only himself was burnt by the flames as he made to grab Mei to stop her, and how his hands ached and burned and how she looked at him in anger and sadness and then regret when she registered what she did.

He tried not to think of any of this as he neared the site of the world’s demise, only three figures in sight among the still burning flames. Two sitting and one laying down.

Perhaps one day things will change.

Perhaps one day MK would wake from his limbo slumber.

Perhaps one day Mei could finally, properly, rest for more than a couple hours at a time.

Perhaps one day they could all be together again, Sun Wukong finally counted in their group as a friend properly.

Perhaps one day he would be able to visit Mei without the fear of her disappointment in her lack of progress rebuilding the world (though he could see how she had improved so much little by little and would tell her every visit).

Perhaps one day they could both smile at each other and mean it.

As the three talked amongst each other, the first time all three had been able to in years, unbeknownst to them all a fourth’s hand twitched.

[monsieuroverlord]

Full June Solicits are up!

source here

Lots and lots of Blood Hunt-related series.

X-Men #35 -- supersized special issue featuring writers: Gerry Duggan Kieron Gillen, Al Ewing, Chris Claremont, Jed MacKay, and Gail Simone. Artists: Philo Noto Mark Brooks, Joshua Cassara, Lucas Werneck, Jerome Opena, Walter Simonson, Leinil Francis Yu & more

Main cover by Pepe Larraz

"THE END OF AN ERA – UNCANNY X-MEN #700!

All good things must come to an end, and as good of a thing as the Krakoan era has been for mutantkind…its time has come at last. The tragedy and triumph of FALL OF THE HOUSE OF X, the madness and mystery of RISE OF THE POWERS OF X…they have all come to their end and led to this moment that will change the future of mutantkind for years to come. Written and drawn by an all-star cast of writers and artists who have shaped the Krakoan Age, this is one milestone no X-Fan will want to miss! Also featuring a story of family by X-Men master Chris Claremont…and a glimpse of things to come!"

Ultimate X-Men #4

writing, art, and cover by Peach Momoko

(I spy a little Rogue on the cover!)

"NEW MUTANTS!

• Hisako and Mei’s classmate, Nico Minoru, has figured out that these two girls possess unusual abilities…

• But they’re not the only ones!

• Hisako’s world gets a whole lot bigger in ULTIMATE X-MEN #4!"

X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #1

written by Steve Foxe, art by Netho Diaz, cover by Dotun Akande

"For centuries, Apocalypse tested the mutants of Earth to guarantee that only the strong would survive. Now, as he takes his throne on Arakko, another must rise in his place and ensure the mutants of Earth do not grow weak in his absence! Twelve mutants chosen from the X-Men’s greatest heroes – and villains – will compete for the honor, but only one can become…the HEIR OF APOCALYPSE!"

X-Men '97 #4 (of 4)

Written by Steve Foxe, art by Salva Espin, cover by Todd Nauck

"SINISTER SECRETS COME TO LIGHT!

As the X-Men gather to celebrate good news, some of their most dangerous foes show up to crash the party – and strike a deadly blow to mutant/human relations in the process! The official prelude to the hit new Disney+ TV show reaches its explosive conclusion here, setting up key plots that will play out in the seasons ahead!"

[wonderlandleighleigh]

I’m winning you a stupid stuffed animal… no I don’t care how much money it takes

Mei can't help laughing. "Joel. I don't need a stupid stuffed animal."

"Yes, you do."

"I promise you, I don't."

"You do!" he cries as he winds up to throw the ball at the glass jars.

Mei huffs and turns to Midge as she walks up, holding onto Lenny's arm as they share some cotton candy. "Can you please convince him that I don't need a stuffed animal?"

"Nope," Midge tells her. "Short of yelling 'fire' or telling him you're pregnant again, you're fucked."

"Shit," Mei huffs.

"Ha!" Joel cries in triumph. "Victory!" he turns to Mei, presenting her with a large, red bear.

Mei sighs heavily. "Fine. It's cute."

Midge giggles and turns to Lenny. "Win me one."

"If you wanted an athlete you should have stayed with Joel," Lenny jokes lightly. "Here, have some more cotton candy, and I'll buy you a bear later."

"My hero," she smirks.

[leajdh]

Gold Rush

Chapter One: You did it to me like you’ve played this game before 

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS:

The sweat is dripping down my face. I brush it off with the end of my sleeve. Breathing heavily I try to regain focus on the clock hanging across the rink. Shit, it’s after 10pm already. 

When I’m on the rink, I sometimes forget the time, especially when no one's eyes are on me. It’s not like I’m not used to being watched. I had countless tribunes full of people watching my every move since my first competition at the young age of six. And don’t get me started on the millions of people who watched me compete and win in the Olympics. Two times. First at 18, then 22 and now at 26 a new girl took my place on the Olympic team. I still land all my jumps, I would even argue I’m better than I was at 22, but I quit competition skating. I lived my mothers dream two times. I think that’s enough. 

Wishing I could say, I want to fulfill my own dream now, I skate off the rink and put the protection covers over the blades, stomping to my bag where I change into sneakers. As I tumble over the tribune I notice the lights in my uncle's bureau are still on. He told me he had a meeting but I didn’t think it would take that long. 

Walking past the long hallway, I see my medals and goblets shining inside the glass cabinets. I’ve wasted my entire life on the rink for some bright metal things and titles people seem to care about, but I don’t. I used to though. I loved the competition, I loved the crowd cheering for me, I loved to win, always pushing myself past my limits so I would be the one holding Gold in my hands and see my mother smile.

But then on the night as I came back home from the Olympic Games with medals around my neck, I started to panic. I did it, I reached the life goal, again not only once, I did it twice. My entire life I was so focused on ice skating, I didn’t have a plan of what I would do once I achieved this longlife goal. Most girls my age are getting their life started, while I feel like mine’s already over. I have no plan and worse, no motivation to change it. Everything I had on my mind for the last 4 years felt dull compared to competition skating. I tried being a coach, but it made me feel stuck even more, so I quit that too. My old coach Mei Mei said I’m being unreasonable and my self-pity is unbearable. I know I am. Thousands of young girls wish they were in my shoes. And it made me feel ungrateful and straight up horrible, but once I realized being a champion wasn’t my own dream to begin with, it was my mothers all along, I can have as much pity for myself as I want.

Now I only skate for myself, with a blank mind, no goal to reach. Just for me. 

I was about to approach uncle's door to check on him, as it swung open and a skinny, dark haired man with big glasses stepped out. He doesn’t notice me while shaking my uncle's hand before turning around, walking towards the exit. Hearing my uncle’s tormented sigh I startled him by quickly stomping over. 

“Jesus, oh! Don’t give me a heart attack! What are you still doing here?”, uncle Masamichi asks with his hand dramatically laying over his chest. 

“What do you think I’m still doing here?”, I ask him right back, knowing he can already tell. 

“Thought you only wanted to skate for an hour”, he says, giving me an intense look, which I ignore: “Long meeting, huh? What was it about?”

He knows better not to start a discussion with me about skating. He wishes I would still compete. For my mothers sake, but more so for mine. He sees me just living from day to day with no purpose. Figure skating gave me a purpose, but this chapter is over. At least he understood my reasoning, even though it doesn’t hinder him from telling me to compete again. I get it, the way he saw me my entire life. I was in skates before I could even properly walk. It’s in my genes, being the daughter of a figure skater and a NHL ice hockey player. Even though one is dead and the other one I only ever saw on the TV. I don’t know a lot about my dad and to be honest I don’t care to learn about him. He left my pregnant mom to play for the New Jersey Devils, completely cutting contact, only talking to her through a lawyer. He lived his dream while my mother scratched hers and handed it down to me. 

She was part of the Olympic team when she found out she was pregnant with me. Due to immense pregnancy symptoms she had to leave the team, and her dream, behind. 

A week after it was announced that I will be joining the Olympic team, my mother was killed by a drunk driver. He lost control over his car and hit her as she was jogging on the sidewalk. I was so devastated, I took all my grief into skating, knowing she would be mad if I didn’t give my all. With this way of coping with her death, I don’t think I ever processed it correctly, if there even is a right way to do so.

She never saw me standing on the pedestal. This thought haunts me in my dreams. Especially after accepting she wanted to live her dream through me. 

Uncle Masamichi took me in. I was 18, so neither my dad nor the state cared about me. Since the incident Masamichi not only manages the ski resort, he also took over my mothers job as the rink owner. Masamichi isn’t a fan of any sport that’s on ice, he prefers snow, but the rink is a huge source of income, particularly when the resort is empty in between skiing seasons.

“It’s actually good you’re still around. I need to talk to you”, he says and walks right back into his bureau. He takes a seat behind his desk and waits for me to sit on the used up couch right by the door. I don’t know why but I get nervous. Fidgeting with my fingers in one of the holes of the couch, I patiently await whatever uncle Masamichi wants to tell me. While peeling parts of the fake leather off, he finally speaks: “A NHL team wants to rent the rink for one of their players. He was injured and needs extra training to get back into the team before the next playoffs. I know you’re not a fan of ice hockey but they offer a lot of money which we could need.” 

Hearing NHL makes me sit up. Yasamichi respected my wish a few years ago to stop letting the local university ice hockey team play on the rink, even though it cut a big chunk out of his pockets. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, to see NHL coaches, managers and talent scouts walking in and out of my safespace, the place I feel the most connected to my mother. 

Especially after someone from the Devils visited to look out for talented players. Upon seeing the red logo on his chest and clipboard, I freaked out and pleaded with Masamichi to end the contract with the university. I was so panicked that one day I could walk into the hall and see my father standing there, on my rink, looking for new players. I’m pretty sure he would avoid this ice rink like a vampire shuns light, but right before uncle cut the contract with the university, my father retired as a player and went straight ahead to be a coach. Seeking talents is now part of his job and he loves nothing more than ice hockey. He would even face me for the benefit of his team. He doesn’t love me but by the few times I saw him on TV or heard him talk in interviews, I can tell he loves his team. 

I snip the fake leather on the floor and think about it for a few seconds. 

The last few years were hard. Shortly after my mother died and my father remembered that he has a daughter, his lawyer sent me a perfectly timed letter on my 18th birthday to inform me, he won’t pay alimony anymore. It was not like he gave me a lot anyway, but it still teared up the hole in our income more. If I had gone to court, I would have gotten an immense additional payment on alimony just by knowing how much my father makes a month and how little money he had sent me over the years. But I was too prideful and I knew I could make it as a figure skater. I started to work even harder, gained sponsors and of course made money from all the competitions, but the money is still tight, primarily because I don’t really have a real job and not knowing what to do with your life leads you to doing stupid stuff, like buying expensive clothes and renovating the entire resort out of nowhere. 

“Must be a shit ton of money they offered you, otherwise you would have never asked.”

“They seem really fond of this player, apparently he’s the one bringing the trophies home”, is all he says. 

“As long as he isn’t a Devil, I think I can handle it. How many times a week do they need the rink?”, I'm not happy about it, but I also have to realize that I’m in no position to disagree. Without my uncle, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head. 

“All weekdays, times open, depending on the progress they make. They will also sometimes be using our fitness center and stay in the resort. Everything about this is top secret. I’ve signed an NDA to even be able to have this meeting. I actually think I broke it by talking to you.”

I laugh: “Sounds like they don’t want publicity. Not like I will know him anyway, but what’s his name?”

I only know one name in the NHL and it’s my dads. 

He lets himself fall back into his chair and sighs again. By his reaction I can already tell, I won’t like where this is going. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

I don’t understand Masamichis grimace. I have never heard that name before. 

“Is he a Devil or why are you so shy about it?”, I snicker.

“Not even for a million dollars would I consider letting a Devil skate here. No, he’s a Ranger.”

A Ranger? I look confused. I would have expected someone from a team nearby but someone from New York City. The city that never sleeps. Sending a guy from there over to this town in the middle of nowhere sounds more like a punishment than help.

My interest in ice hockey is non-existing, but even I know about the rivalry between the Devils and the Rangers. They hate each other to the bone. This conflict and hatred is engraved in the teams for at least 50 years. Kind of crazy how rivalry can prevail for so long. 

But all I have to say is, whoever hates my dad, gets plus points from me. Even if they are ice hockey players.

“What did he do that was so bad, they must hide him here?”, it is starting to get amusing. I’m not really fond of having an ice hockey player on my rink but that he clearly fucked something up and is forced into exile, makes it a bit funny to me. Seeing me smiling like a little kid completely changes Masamichis expression. He gives me a sad look before turning his face away: “He drove under the influence and crashed his car into a guard rail. Luckily he only hurt himself, but you can guess how bad the media outcry was.”

I understand why he was so timid about it. A drunk driver took my mother from earth and now he wants to rent the rink out to one. 

“Is he clean?”, I ask, again sticking my finger in the holes of the couch. 

“It’s part of the contract. They assured me, he hasn't had a drop of alcohol since the crash.”

“I hope you bargained a good amount of money if he breaks the contract. I don’t trust people like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Ha, and you do?”

“No, but people deserve a second chance.”

I argue, ignoring the stinging tears in my eyes: “So moms murderer deserves one too?”

“I-”, he stops.

“Doesn’t matter, because he already got one from the court. Five years, and half of it he spent in probation. He has a daughter now, did you know this? With his wonderful wife. He sells houses and the one he lives in is even better than the one he puts on the market. Judging by the photos he posts on social media, his in-laws love him. Do you think they know he killed an innocent woman? With such big smiles for the camera they either don’t know or don’t give a fuck. At least I thought you gave one.”

“You should stop looking him up.”

“Imagine that Ranger killed someone. I bet on my life he wouldn’t even spend one second in prison.”

“I agreed to sign the contract and they have already settled into the resort. Tomorrow they come back to finalize it”, he completely ignored what I said. 

“So you actually don’t give a fuck about my opinion?”   

“I do care about your opinion but I need you to understand my point. He isn’t allowed to drink alcohol. They even took his license. His career will be over if he fucks up again. If we don’t agree on helping him out, we will just make it harder for him to redeem himself. And I know you don’t want to be the one who stands in the way of someone’s dream.” 

For a second I forgot who I was talking to. 

Of course my uncle wants to help him. Yet another young man, who came in contact with the law and needs guidance. Even before I was born, he took care of young juveniles. Keeping them off the streets, so they wouldn’t get stupid thoughts. He trained them not only in skiing, he listened to them and taught them morals. He definitely saved a few from ending up in prison.   

I stand up and notice immediately that I’ve created a huge hole in that couch. Plucking the fake leather off my fingers, I turn towards the door to leave. 

“All this drama for one player. Are you even sure it’s his dream or theirs?”

I walk out of the door without waiting for an answer, but I’m sure he hasn’t got anything to say. Taking out my phone to distract myself, I see messages from my friend Hime, pleading with me to get her a fatty burger with fries from Franks pub. She works at the resort as co-manager, but usually mixes the drinks behind the bar. We share a cabin on the outskirt of the resort grounds. 

I text her a thumbs up and she immediately sends a hundred hearts back. Jumping straight into my car, I call Frank to let him know I will pick up two burgers in twenty minutes. He huffs into the phone and hangs up. 

With my phone in both hands, I walk towards Frank's pub. On the screen thousands of articles pop up after I googled Satoru Gojo. About his huge accomplishments since joining the Rangers. After he graduated from UCLA, they immediately gave him a contract for a decade. Quite unusual but they didn’t seem to regret it. Since joining them, his team won three times the Stanley cup, and thereof two years in a row. Articles put words like ‘legend’, ‘the strongest’, ‘the honored one’ in front of his name. He has more sponsors than I have fingers, is the brand ambassador of Burberry and Dior and had a campaign with Patek Philippe. With over 50 million instagram followers, he is the most followed ice hockey player in history. And I understand why. He’s not only insanely talented on ice, he is absolutely stunning as well. Tall with broad shoulders covered in muscles, watercolor ocean blue eyes and hair as white as snow. In every single picture, even ones from the press, he looks handsome. Either way smiling brightly into the camera or ignoring them with a stone cold face. 

Then there are photos and videos of him leaving nightclubs, completely drunk, falling straight into a car. Each time a different beautiful girl is on his side. I start to read about the crash as I open the door to the pub. The crash happened four months ago. Witnesses saw him leaving a bar seemingly upset and one even tried to hinder him from driving off. In the crash he broke his left leg in three spots and bruised his chest, nearly breaking his thorax. The media said he was lucky he got away with a few bruises and a broken leg. Looking at his car, it was a total loss, so understandably they said that. But for an athlete broken bones can cost their career. 

I step towards the register right next to the counter where I wave over the barkeeper. They play a hockey game on one of the many TVs. I try my very best not to look at the screen in fear of seeing my father pop up. Frank walks out the kitchen with my food in his hand, in the background someone screams at the TV, clearly drunk. Frank just huffs and I smile, giving him twenty bucks. He hands me ten back, which I refuse to take. He just stares at me and I have no other choice but to take it.

“You are too good to me, Frank”, I say, grabbing the boxes. He just nods in agreement and wants to go back to the kitchen until a waitress stops him, telling him one guest can’t pay and she doesn’t know what to do. Looking away from Frank's annoyed face, I follow her finger, pointing at the guy. 

This can’t be real.

Pulling out my phone again, I open my last tabs and see the guy on all these pictures right in front of me. 

With a whiskey glass in his hand. 

And by the way he sways there is definitely no water in it. 

Frank goes over to him and I follow, a few steps behind, so I’m able to hear their conversation. 

“See, I forgot my wallet. You got paypal or venmo? Or apple pay. Scratch that, they froze my apple pay”, he slurs, sitting straddle-legged on a barstool. Frank only points at a paper on the wall ‘Only Cash or Card or Police’.

“Oh come on dude. Do you know who I am? I will give you an autograph. It’s five times worth the bill. I will even smile for a picture.”

Arrogance is the first thing that comes to my mind. And arrogance doesn’t work on Frank. Just as he motions the barkeeper to call the police, I step in with a plan.

“I will pay for it”, they all turn their heads towards me.

“I say it all the time, I have the best fans, and as it seems the prettiest too!”, he exclaims, staring me up and down with a big smirk printed on his face. I ignore his eyes looming over my body and answer with the most sarcastic voice ever: “Your biggest.”  

Not looking at him or Frank, I spin around to the waitress. She doesn’t question my decision and just tells me the price. 160 bucks, I nearly puked on the spot. 

“What the hell did he drink?”, I ask her, flabbergasted.

“Wanted the best whiskey we had. Drank half a bottle.”

“Frank, I didn’t even know you sell expensive shit like that”, Frank just jerks his shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t really call that expensive”, Satoru chimes in and I side-eye him to shut up. He holds his hands up in defeat but still smirks at me. Ignoring him again, I focus back on Frank.

“Can you please do me a favor and write it on a tab. I promise you, you will get the money back as soon as you open the pub tomorrow.”

He looks between me and Satoru, who just lets me sort his misery out. Frank doesn’t look happy at all, but he usually never looks happy. 

“Please Frank”, I beg and Satoru hiccups: “Please Frank”, mimicking my voice. Does he not know how much trouble he is in? I ram my elbow lightly in his rips to make him shut up, smiling still at Frank. He looks at me like he wants to read what’s on my mind, but gives up trying to understand my reasoning and nods in agreement. 

“Thank you Frank, you really are too good to me!”

It’s the first time today Frank says something to me: “For once, I am”, turning to Satoru: “Be a man and thank her.”

And he does, taking my hand and kissing my knuckle while looking at me with his unbelievable blue eyes. 

I nearly puke again, but I can’t lie either. He got me blushing.

“Let’s get out of here”, I quickly mumble, grabbing his hand and dragging him outside. I stop walking as I’ve reached my car. Abruptly I let go of his hand. He’s a bit wobbly on his legs, but not entirely wasted. 

All I need is a picture of him in front of Franks pub and I will have proof you can’t trust bastards like him.

“So you are my biggest fan”, he sings, leaning against my car door. 

“No I lied, I just don’t like unnecessary trouble”, I chirp, taking my phone out of my pocket. He laughs wholeheartedly and for a second I thought he’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.

Being completely enchanted by the way he laughs, I register way too late how he approaches me. I lose grip of the boxes I held with my left hand as he pushes me against my car. Before I can understand what is happening, he lifts me up with one arm underneath my ass, my back straight against my car window. 

And then his lips meet mine. Awfully rough and hungry for a first kiss. I taste the liquor on his tongue as he slips it past my teeth. 

My mind screams at me to stop this nonsense, but instead I sling my arms around his neck for support and to press his lips more against mine, digging my nails into his silky hair. 

It’s like I’m in trance. Everything is blank, there is only him. With his insane body, I definitely saw too many pictures of him without a shirt on and his gorgeous, gorgeous face. People would kill to be in my position.

Kill….

This word repeats in my head and only gets louder as I taste the liquor again. He breaks the kiss only to whisper in my ear: “Sadly I don’t have a condom with me, but my fingers will do the trick.”

I must have misheard him. There is no way..

Right in this second I feel his other hand enter the waistband of my leggings, his two fingers meeting my folds. 

It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice cold water over my head. I’m out of my hypnotic state and realize what the actually fuck I’m doing here. I push him away, making him trip over his own feet. He instantly lets go of me, but catches my arm right before I fall face first onto the pavement. Once I stand safely on my feet, I rip my arm out of his grip.

“Fuck, what was that for?”, he asks, holding his shoulder where I punched him. 

“Are you serious?!”, I scream, taking backwards steps away from him. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you for paying the bill”, he just argues, looking completely unbothered by this situation. I don’t even know what to answer. Why would he think that and even more so do it?

“First, I didn’t pay for your bill! It’s an open tab and you better make sure to pay him back! Second, why did you think I wanted to hook up with you?”

He strokes his shoulder: “To be honest I don’t know, usually that’s what every fangirl wants from me. And after I kissed you and you really got into it, I thought that’s where we were heading.” 

I want to protest, but I realize he’s right. I probably kissed him as needy as he kissed me. All I manage to say therefore is: “I just wanted a photo.”

He tilts his head amused to the side. 

“So you really are a fan!”, and closes the distance between us again. Taking my phone, he snaps a few pictures with his arm around my shoulders, smiling brightly in the camera while I can’t believe what is happening right now. 

He hands me my phone back and picks up the boxes for me. He pulls out a sharpie and scribbles his autograph on one box and hands them over to me as well.

“You have a pen on you but not a wallet”, is all I can say after a few seconds of silence. 

He snickers: “I usually don’t need my wallet. My signature gets me everything.”

“Not in this town”, I murmur, opening my car. 

“I figured”, he beams while helping me open my car door. 

“Sorry by the way for you know”, he mutters, scratching the back of his head.

“Please don’t mention it again. I want to forget it ever happened”, I say, putting the boxes on the passenger seat before closing it.  

“Ah, this hurts my ego!”, he states dramatically, holding his hands over his heart. 

I feel like Frank as I huff at him: “As if this would diminish your ego. Let’s be real here.”

“Of course, you are the first woman who ever rejected me.”

"Buhu, poor baby”, I utter, gaining a huge smile from him. I don't believe him as I’m ready to get into my car and drive off. 

I have everything I need. The pictures he took are perfect. His expression definitely looks drunk and Frank's pub is perfectly visible in the background. 

“Wait a second!”, before I could close my door, he stepped in between. 

“Thank you again, I will make sure Frank gets his money tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome”, I affirm, waiting for him to close the door. 

“What’s your name?”, he asks instead, still blocking the door with his large body. I just stare at him. Annoyed.

“My food gets cold”, is all I say as I pull the door handle towards me, giving him a wink to get away. 

“Jeez Louise, don’t do me like that!”

“You don’t care to know my name, so just spit it out! What else do you want?”

“A ride”, I knit my brows in disbelief: “to my hotel!  Not the kind of ride your dirty mind was thinking of!”

I pull the handle again, this time just to hurt him. 

“Aua, okay okay, sorry I will stop with these jokes!”

I look at him from under my lashes. God, I’m stupid beyond belief. I motion him to get in. Again giving me that big smile that makes me regret pushing him off me earlier, he walks around and takes a seat in my car. He tells me where he’s staying and I don’t even need GPS because it’s the resort I grew up in and the one I was actually planning on heading to. Driving out of the parking lot, I look over to him. He sits there, mansplaining with the food boxes on one of his thick thighs. Before I could even wish to switch places with the boxes, I remind myself who he is. An arrogant brick, who thinks he can get away with everything. And worst of all, he hasn’t learned anything from his crash. He still drinks. I can’t wait to show Masamichi all the evidence. I know it’s petty, but I don’t want him to ever put trust into ice hockey players particularly ones who drive under the influence.

He’s really chatty, telling me all the stuff his team probably put into the NDA Masamichi had to sign. He is an idiot, which is good for me but bad for him. He doesn’t have a clue about the owner of the rink he would be training in. Clearly he doesn’t care to know anyway. He has a whole team, who does everything for him. Why care to know about the small details. Again, arrogance. 

It seems like he doesn’t give a fuck about his career, no interest in whatsoever. 

I can’t relate to this mindset. In my competition days, I gave my all, looking up every detail. I was enamored in being perfect. 

And I was perfect until the very end.

“I still want to know your name.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“It’s dangerous to drive with a stranger. If I know your name, I will feel safer”, I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s grinning at me. I roll my eyes. 

“You weigh more than twice as much as me and don’t even get me started on our height difference. I think you could manage this stranger.”

I should be the one who’s afraid but weirdly enough I’m not.

“I could manage you in every way you want me to.”

I tilt my head towards him, giving him an irritated look: “Do you really want to walk?”

He shakes his head and gives me puppy eyes.

“One more joke like this and you’re out”, I mean but I sound way too unserious. He holds his hand against his forehead: “Aye, aye, captain.”

A few seconds fly by without a word being said. I enjoy silence, but with him, it feels weird. So I told him my name.

“What?”

I repeat it. 

“I heard you, but that’s a stripper's name.”

I punch him in his way too hard abs, more so hurting myself by doing so.

“Do I look like a stripper to you?”

“You certainly have the body for it.”

Not responding to his last sentence, I tell him that I’m a figure skater. I should have put ‘former’ in front of it, but in a way I’m afraid he would have asked me what I do now and I can’t answer that without feeling like a failure. It’s a stupid thought, but I can’t ignore it.

“Oh really, a cute little ice princess”, he snores. 

Of course, an ice hockey player like him wouldn’t take figure skating seriously. And I’m not arrogant enough to be mad at him for not knowing who I am and what I’ve accomplished. 

“Laugh all you want, you ice hockey players wouldn’t stand a chance on the ice without your protection gear. I’ve had harder wounds from being on the ice at the age of four than your entire team.”

“Woah princess, what’s up with your animosity towards ice hockey players? Did one dump you or something?”

“None of your concern.”

He starts to laugh again: “Come on. What did the big, bad ice hockey player do to you to make you hate all of us?”

I don’t care anymore, it’s not like he will remember it anyway. Gripping the steering wheel tight, I tell him: “My last name is Zenin.”

By the way he looks immediately at me, I can tell I don’t need to continue but I do it anyway: “I’m the daughter of, what is his nickname again?”

Satoru falls back into his seat and for a second he doesn’t do anything. I didn’t think he would be this shooked. It’s not a secret that he has a daughter in Idaho. I’m even mentioned in his Wikipedia article. And sadly he’s in mine too. 

“I fucking fingered coach Zenins daughter! I can’t fucking believe it! I have to tell my teammates!”, he shouts abruptly, taking his phone out. Thank God I’m a good driver so his scream didn’t startle me. 

“Don’t you dare! And you didn’t!”

“Princess, I can still smell you on my fingers, so -”, I push him against his shoulder before he continues. 

“Calm down, I won’t tell anyone. Pinky promise”, he stretches his arm towards me, giving me a chance to grab his pinky. I do it, just to get his arm out of my sight. 

However I feel his eyes on me for a good few seconds, giving me goosebumps all over.

“I guess I’m really drunk, because normally I would have noticed these eyes a hundred miles away. You have the same demolishing gleam in them.”

“I don’t look like him at all”, I say and I know I’m lying. He’s right. I have my fathers eyes. I’m a carbon copy of my mother but of course the most important feature of my face, my father had to ruin. Satoru is feeling my hostility against this theme and tries to cheer up the mood: “You’re right. If you would look like him, I can guarantee you, I wouldn’t have tried to fuck you.”

This is the first time I genuinely laugh at one of his jokes. I can tell he wants to say something stupid again, but he keeps it for himself, watching me giggle for a few more seconds. Once I calm down, he continues: “And I take it back.”

“What?”

“The sarcastic ‘cute little ice princess’. Imma be honest, my team and I watched you at the Olympics. And Imma be even more honest we prayed for you to fall. Nothing against you, it’s just we hate your dad and you winning would make him happy. Doesn’t matter, what I wanted to say is, we couldn’t take our eyes off you. You were breathtaking.”

I laugh again, partly because of this weird situation and not knowing how to take a compliment from him.

I’ve been praised my entire life. I know how to smile and what to say after receiving nice words, but giving him this phony act seems more than wrong. So I decided to just shortly acknowledge it and focus on something else: “Thank you, but just for your information my father couldn’t care less about me. He would have probably laughed with you guys if I had fallen.”

“He probably does care in his own way. He’s a prideful man with a passion for winners. And you are one.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I bet he would if I sent him a picture of you in a Rangers shirt on top of me.”

“You are disgusting. I hate that man but he’s still my father.” 

“What do you mean? You would be clearly on top of me so he could see the shirt and your face properly. It’s a good angle. I don't wanna know what your dirty mind was thinking again, but I’m down for whatever idea you prefer. The main point is, he will get mad either way.”, he looks up at me, grinning like a devil. 

Making sure no one is behind me on the street, I press the pedal to stop. We are in the middle of nowhere, only five more minutes away from the resort, but I couldn’t take it any longer. I glared over to him. I don’t even know what I feel. It feels like anger, but not about his nasty jokes. Anger that he thinks he knows more about my relationship with my father than me. Anger that he, who apparently can’t stand him, got to see him, talk to him. I shouldn’t feel upset about it. I’m fine with having no father in my life. Still tears begin to bubble up.

“Let me get this in your head. I could give everyone on your team a blowjob and he wouldn’t give a fuck. You know him as a coach, but I got to know him on a human level.”

He watches me, while readjusting the boxes on this lap. His movements look softer, more awake. He also lost the drunk gleam in his eyes.

“You’re right, I have no clue. I’m sorry”, he leans back into the seat again: “I always go overboard with things I do and say.”

“Like you did go overboard with the alcohol as you crashed your car?”, it is lousy, petty, even mean but he deserves it. At least that’s what I tell myself for being so vile. 

To my surprise he starts to chuckle.

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“You think it’s funny?”

“Fuck no, it’s not. But I don’t know how else to deal with it. It’s kind of ironic. I drank because of the pressure of being the best. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. My team and the fans put all their faith in me. I couldn’t make mistakes on ice, so I did them in my private life. Now I drink again to numb the pain in my leg, so I can be on ice again to fall right back into the pressure of being the best. Laughable, isn’t it?”

Deep down I curse myself for feeling a pinch of pity for him. I have never dealt with an addiction. I felt the pressure of being perfect, but I never felt the need to find an outlet other than excessive sport. I shouldn’t comment on it, but I often speak before I think.

“I know the pressure you’re talking about, I dealt with it too. But you know what you need to do with it? Keep it to yourself. Drink or take as many drugs as you like, but do it in your house. Don’t drag innocent people into your mess.”

Everything about me is icy; my voice, my glance. This conversation is intense for two people who literally just met. But he seems unaffected by it, which drives me nuts, because I’m clearly affected and I don’t want him to know that his shenanigans get under my skin.

It could probably only go this far because we share many similarities. We both are top athletes with pressure overflowing us. But I learned to let it all out in skating. Being honest with myself, I don’t know what it’s like to lose. I was always winning. If I’d fallen, I was right back up and on it again. I never had losing in my mind. I was only aiming for the stars.

“Oh princess, you are so wrong. I have a team to look after, you just have to look after yourself. If you fuck up, you lose for yourself. If I fuck up, my entire team loses. It’s not the same.”

“Then maybe you should get better teammates. Or are you just saying that, so you can shift the blame to someone else?”

“To be honest with you, I didn’t expect a passive-aggressive therapy session as I asked you for a ride. I had more something in mind like ending up at your place and taking a video of you while I fuck you from behind with a Devils shirt on.”

The realization hits me at this moment. For him this is all a game. He doesn’t care about what I think about him. 

I’m so naive.

I was thinking my words would have an effect on him. That he would really think about his actions and regret it. What was I thinking? 

I was thinking of giving him a second chance. I kind of liked him. I wanted to see something good in him. I was so blind. He’s pretty privilege in the worst form. He entranced me so much that I was ready to throw my morals out the window. 

He’s a stranger to me as much as I am to him. He probably planned on never seeing me again after fucking me. My opinion on him doesn’t mean anything to him. He just kept talking to me to get a tiny connection so I would sleep with him. He must think I’m crazy for getting so worked up while he’s chill.

But two can play this game. 

And I never lose.

It’s the first time since meeting me that he looks confused, because I didn’t immediately fire something back at him. Thinking back I should have let him get his ass busted by the police. Surely Masamichi would have heard about it and the problem would have been solved on its own, but I decided to intervene. Leading me to this mess of a situation. 

“What’s up with your weird obsession with my fathers team? Can’t play against them anymore, so now you have to use his daughter as an outlet for your frustration. Sad.”

I lean over to him and by the way he looks at me, he’s observing every little detail about me. So I give him a hint, a hint that will make him think he has won. Glancing to his eyes, lips, back to his eyes and lips again. The smirk that forms on his face screams triumph. It’s the same kind of smirk I saw in his picture right before he entered a game. His winner smile. He really thinks he won. 

Guess he had never played against someone so similar to himself. 

Too cocky to notice it. 

Didn’t his coaches teach him to never underestimate his opponents? 

Mine surely did, that’s why I will be winning.

My initial thought was, he would be laughing, in an arrogant, amused way, because for him everything is a game.

Instead he grabs me by my chin, forcing me to look at him. It hurts but in an exciting way. Keeping the play up I act like a deer in the headlight. Holding my breath and not getting a single word out, and to make it even better, I act like I have the hardest time looking in his eyes.

“I knew this would make you quiet for once. Now be a good little ice princess and let me fuck you.”

My lips meet his fast that I’ve anticipated. He doesn’t taste like liquor anymore, he tastes like himself. But I haven’t forgotten it. 

While he’s getting lost in our kisses, I open his seatbelt and throw the boxes in the back of my car and at this moment I know I've got him right where I want him. He’s putty in my hands. Clueless.

The realization will drive him nuts. 

Grabbing me by my hips, he pulls me over on his lap. It worked better than I would have expected. 

His huge hands wander all over me. From my neck, to my breasts down to my hips and ending up at my thighs, pulling me towards him without breaking the kiss. Learning quickly that not only his hands are huge against my body, as I press myself closer to him, I feel his likewise huge hard cock against my stomach. Before I could overthink it and let him win, he tells me, he’s tested and is negative. I tell him the same. One good thing about hooking up with an athlete. We get tested on the regular. I also add that I’m on birth control. 

“What a bummer, I would’ve loved nothing more than being the one who makes coach Zenin a grandpa.”

“Shut up, you’re killing the mood.”

“I killed it from the start and you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

I don’t answer him, but I also don’t need to. He’s back on me again. Kissing along my jawline, before he whispers: “Who’s your daddy, Zenin?”

Weird fetish, especially after he talked about my father so much, but I go with it, moaning his name loud into his ear as he grabs my ass with one hand. He just murmurs ‘fuck’ as I can feel him get harder and harder. 

It takes my entire willpower to not give in. He’s the hottest man I have ever seen and is ready to give me the night of my life. Again others would kill to be in my position. 

I didn’t plan for him to rip my tights open, but he does. I palm his cock with my full hand and still don’t manage to grasp his entire length with it. Fumbling completely out of breath with his belt, I slip my hand finally inside his pants, pulling his cock out. I know, if I just take a peek at it, I will give in. 

Letting his head fall behind at the headrest, he whimpers: “Better than my wildest dreams.”

He grabs my waist to align me perfectly with his cock which he lets me guide myself onto. I do as he anticipates, dragging his tip from my clit, down between my already wet folds and just right as I want to push myself down on him, I intervene.

“Wait, it’s so uncomfortable here, my legs already hurt so much from all the training. Can we go to the back?”

He stares at me like I had just asked him to marry me. 

“Don’t you dare ever accuse me of killing the mood.”

But in the end, he agrees and kisses me again. Of course he does, right now he would do everything for me. 

I climb over to my seat again, telling him I need to unlock the car, so he can open the backseat door. He puts his dick back into his pants, but leaves the belt and zipper open. As I watched him doing so, I’m glad I had the willpower to not look down as I was sitting on his lap. I would have folded. 

The first time ever I regret winning.

As soon as he got out and closed the door, I pressed a button, actually locking the doors. Trying to open the back door and it didn’t work, he looked perplexed at me.

Then the realization hits him as I smile, showing him my middle finger that transforms into a wave goodbye. To my surprise he starts to laugh, throwing his head back and hiding his face behind his hands. Before I kick the gas pedal and leave him behind, he glances one last time at me. Throughout the entire time I spent with him, I had a hard time telling what his expressions meant, so I’m not sure what this one is, but I would describe it as sinister. Like the smile he has before winning. 

But I didn't dwell on it for too long, because in the end of it all I left him hard, horny and dumbfounded with open pants. 

This time his actions had consequences for him. 

1:0

I still love winning. 

So much so that I can’t wait for the rematch tomorrow.

Even though it will be kind of boring, because of course the only possible outcome is

2:0