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cherriegyuu · 6 months

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lens of ice | yjh | two (final)

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, these people are just in soo love, smut word count: 17k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, masturbation (f) a/n: i can't belive i actually managed to finish this one! i started to write it maybe in october and it took me forever but here it is. again, thank you to @ressonancee for giving me the idea and putting up with my shit💓

part one || part two (final)

The thought of going back on your word crossed your mind, truthfully. You weren’t even sure why you said yes to dinner with Jeonghan in the first place.

It was a recipe for disaster. It was the only way you could possibly describe the situation, to begin with. The flirting had gotten out of hand, to the point where Seungkwan was already angry and had said “if he grows balls big enough to ask you out, please say yes, this tension is annoying”. Vernon had agreed.

When you heard that from Seungkwan, you thought that he was crazy, that he had completely lost his mind. While it was safe to say that you had developed a crush on Jeonghan, something completely inappropriate in your work, it was hard to tell where he stood.

You liked to think that from day one you were able to say what was on Jeonghan’s mind. You had been able to say that he was holding back on his answers and you called him out on his shit, something that proved to be very efficient, because after that he started to answer all of your questions with honesty. Or at least, you liked to think that he was.

It never really crossed your mind that Jeonghan might have some sort of interest in you. You thought that he was flirting more for sport than for anything else.

The rumors ran around, about how he was sort of a player but he was careful not to date any other skater. Not to create a sense of discomfort, someone had said on a forum online.

It was something that you had yet to ask him. About his love life. And there were two main reasons for that: 1) you didn’t know if it was something that he wanted to talk about and unless he had a wife or a serious girlfriend, it mattered very little to the documentary; 2) you didn’t want to know the answer.

It had never happened to you like that before. You had done so many interviews, went to many places, met so many different people, and not a single one of them was able to captivate you quite as Jeonghan had.

You knocked on the door and waited. A second later, Jeonghan opened the door. You had grown too used to seeing him in comfortable clothes, shirts that were way too big for him, sweats. The only piece of clothing that showed any shape of his body were the pants he used to practice and even then, everything was hidden under a large hoodie.

The man in front of you had tailored pants and a dress shirt on, the sleeves folded back, revealing his arm.

You cleared your throat, suddenly unaware of what to say.

“I was thinking you had given up,” he said with a smile, almost uncertain.

You shook your head immediately.

“There was a lot of traffic today, it’s a friday after all”

It was indeed friday but there wasn’t as much traffic as you made it seem. The truth was that you were late to leave your apartment. Just as you were leaving you got cold feet and sat down on the couch for about twenty minutes, wondering if you were doing the right thing.

What if whatever happened that night, let it be good or bad, affected your job? Realistically speaking, there was no way that it wouldn’t. If it turned out to be a bad date, then things could get awkward. And if it turned out to be good you simply wouldn’t know how to handle yourself or him.

“Sorry that I didn’t take you out, out. And this is all that I had to offer”

He took a step to the side, giving you enough space to walk in. Although you had been to his home many times and sort of knew how it looked from the heart, it felt different to walk in without having Seungkwan and Vernon at your back, carrying one too many bags of gear. The place looked all too different and familiar at the same time.

“No, this is great actually” you smiled at him.

Your smile grew bigger once you saw the table he had set. The room was half lit by candles, in the center of the table was a small vase with fresh flowers, the city behind the window a perfect canvas. A bottle of wine waited for the two of you and the plates, delicate porcelain, were set. Instead of sitting opposite each other, Jeonghan made it so that you were both facing the window.

“You said you liked the night view,” he said while scratching the back of his head.

You turned to him, smiling, wanting to reassure him that it was perfect.

“I really do,” you said softly “Did you cook?”

The apartment smelled heavenly. It was the smell of homemade food if you still even knew what that was like. At least you had never ordered food that smelled like that. Maybe ordering was something that you weren’t that good at, or maybe Jeonghan was just one of those people who went above and beyond even when just ordering.

“I did,” he said proudly “I don’t know if it tastes good, but I followed the recipe to the T”

He pulled the chair out for you, his smile sweet while he watched you.

The little butterflies on your stomach found life again, suddenly floating around. You wanted to face-palm yourself. Just a few months before you thought the worst about Jeonghan and suddenly there you were, saying yes to a date with him, your heart hammering inside your chest.

With one of his hands still on the back of our chair, Jeonghan reached for the bottle of wine, pouring some of it into the glass in front of you.

You expected him to sit by your side but he took a step back, making a turn to the kitchen. You started to get up to follow him, but Jeonghan came back and pushed you onto the chair again.

“Let me help you,” you laughed, looking up at him.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose at you and shook his head.

“You stay right here. I’m just going to bring the food out”

He squeezed your shoulder before moving to the kitchen.

You rested your chin on your hand, looking at the city in front of you. There were very few parts of town that had such a beautiful view, not that you were one to enjoy looking at lit-up buildings. But maybe it was the moment, it was the way the way your skin tingled where Jeonghan’s fingers had touched you. You pressed a hand to your chest, urging your heart to calm down a little.

You liked to think that you were only feeling that way because it had been a long time since you had dated someone, since anyone had shown real interest in you, since you wanted to get to know someone past the work environment.

There was a little movement to your right before Jeonghan came back into the room. He set the dish in front of you and while you weren’t too sure what it was — it looked like some kind of stew — it smelled and looked amazing.

“I have to admit that I don’t usually cook a lot, or at all most times” he laughed “Most times someone comes in and cooks enough for a week or two, following the diets I have to be on. So all I have to do is take it out of the freezer and eat”

You watched as he set the dish in front of you, steam coming out of it, and put some on the place in front of you. He did the same for himself before finally sitting by your side.

“I never saw someone around here, besides Joshua”

You took a sip of the wine before taking the spoon in your hand.

“She usually comes when I’m out for practice, or in these past few months…” Jeonghan was in the middle of his sentence when he saw your writhed face “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with both hands, trying to hold back your laugh.

Jeonghan looked at you, laughing too, but he was in complete disbelief.

“It can’t be this bad” he reached for his spoon.

You were already laughing when Jeonghan started to cough, taking a large gulp of the wine. How had he managed to fuck up so bad was beyond him. He followed the recipe to the details but somehow it tasted bitter.

“Did you taste it, at all?”

“I… no?”

He groaned when you started to laugh at him again but somehow ended up right along with you.

“I swear I followed the recipe,” he said again.

He wanted to have a nice date with you and get to know you better. Although it wasn’t going exactly as he had planned, seeing you laugh like that, so loudly and carefree somehow made it all worth it. Jeonghan made a mistake that he shouldn’t have, one that with someone else would have turned the night into a complete disaster but with you, it became something to laugh about.

And Jeonghan loved the sound of your laugh. Since he met you on that first day, he wondered what it would be like to hear it. You had gone off on him, baring guns in both hands, your hostility screaming at him the entire time.

He had done his best, or at least he thought he did. However, on the very next day, you called him off on his shit and said that the footage they had was unusable because he hadn’t been honest enough.

Jeonghan hadn’t been honest enough with anyone, ever. He wasn’t even sure that he was honest with himself. He always worried about whether or not he was able to move forward. Pushing forward was one thing, actually living was another one, entirely too different.

Throughout most of his life, Jeonghan only knew how to push forward, like a bull. The world around him mattered very little, the people around him mattered even less.

Somewhere along the way, Jeonghan became all too obsessed with numbers and the love he had for the sport became a shadow. Even then, when he was doing everything in his power to make it to the next Olympics, his last, he wasn’t really sure it was something he still wanted or if he was doing all of that simply because it became second nature to him.

Skating was like breathing but it had become awfully painful to do so.

And then you came in and for the first time, he wanted to impress someone. Who he already was, or the version of him he showed, did nothing for you. You looked bored most of the time. Talking with Seungkwan about it had made things clear in his mind. And he felt it in the way the original direction of the documentary had changed.

It wasn’t just about the sport anymore, how he was healing to make it to the competition. It truly became about him.

“Maybe something was rotten, don’t worry about it” you patted his hand, reassuringly.

Jeonghan saw a chance and he took it, holding your hand. For a second your fingers stilled in his, your eyes a little wide looking back at his. He almost pulled away from you, his dropping a little when you didn’t seem to want his touch.

Then your eyes grew a little softer and ever so lightly you held his hand back.

“I really wanted to have a nice dinner with you, though”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cute pout.

“Maybe we could order something?” you pointed at the wine in front of you “In my experience, wine and pizza are a great combo”

You were the first one in the office, which was a first for you. Not that you were someone who was constantly late. It was just that you were usually the last one to leave.

However, sleep wasn’t something that came to you. You were too giggly, your mind wandering through places that normally it didn’t so you thought that working a little was maybe a good idea to take your mind off things.

Not things. Someone.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Despite the initial accident, the night had been nothing but perfect. When was the last time you had fun? Actual fun, not the kind you sort of force yourself to have not to bother others, or to try to fit in some sort of situation.

The night with Jeonghan had been so easy. Conversation simply floating around you. You didn’t feel like you were there to interview him or to be interviewed. You were just talking, getting to know each other in a way that was so entirely different from how things had gone between the two of you until then.

Jeonghan, you learned, was a menace in school and with his sister, always playing pranks and still somehow managing to get away every single time. I could make such an innocent face and everyone would just fall for it, he said at some point. There was no hint of regret in his voice and his eyes were filled with mischievousness while he talked.

“There were these kids who made fun of me because I was a small kid. I tried to let it go but it went on for months. One day,” he said smiling, the memory of the day still completely fresh in his mind “I was already angry that I couldn’t make a move, I don’t even remember what it was, to be honest. They kept picking on me, saying these snarky comments so I waited. One of them left his bag behind, with his skates hanging off of them. I filled both of them with boiling water. I still remember his mother screaming at him”

You gasped, sort of laughing but also a little bit in shock at the mind of a 9-year-old. But awfully dangerous too, for both of them.

“What if he put the skates on?”

It was hard to mask the horror in your voice

“It was after practice, while we waited for our parents to pick us up. He left his skates back and went to play because his mom was late. I just wanted to ruin his skates, not for him to get hurt. I took his takes to the kitchen, poured the water in, and let it sit there for about ten minutes before I put his bag back where I found it”

Your laugh was too spontaneous and Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh along. Since the moment he saw you for the first time, he thought of you as beautiful but watching you laugh, so openly and carefree was breathtaking. His heart behaved in a way that he didn’t see coming.

“I think we need to send you to a doctor because I refuse to believe you’re normal”

Suddenly just holding your hand wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to know what it would feel like to press against yours and have you want it too. His mind, he had decided long before he even met you, was the kind that liked to play tricks. So maybe it was playing a trick and it came up with the thought that you wanted to kiss him too. Maybe he was imagining that your eyes moved from his eyes to his lips from time to time.

He wanted to make the first move, he knew that if he didn’t the chance of you doing it was very little. At the same time, he was scared that it might push you too far. You had gotten surprised enough when he held your hand.

Realistically he knew that it wasn’t much but the two of you worked together and there was still so much more to do, the Olympics were still months away. And although you weren’t going to see each other every single day in those months, you would still have enough meetings.

So what if he read it all wrong and things suddenly became awkward again? The last thing he wanted to do was go back to how it was when you first time. You had been cold and distant but for an entirely different reason.

“Jeonghan?” your voice had been the quiets he had ever heard from you “It might be the wine talking so if I do say something weird please blame it on the alcohol and tomorrow we pretend that I never said anything at all”

He looked the the two bottles already empty and the third one by the middle. It was, indeed, a lot of wine.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed, eyes closed for a second before finally looking at him again.

“I need you to kiss me, okay?” you said exasperated “Because if you don’t I don’t think I…”

Jeonghan’s lips were on yours before you even finished what you were saying. He hoped that it was along the lines of I don’t think I will.

Your lips, he decided right then, were his favorite thing in the entire world. He loved that when he pressed harder you made way for him, your lips parted to give him full access. Your hand moved from his chest, up to his shoulder, and then the nape of his neck, lightly tugging at his hair. And when you let out a small whimper on the back of your throat he swore his entire world almost became undone.

The night had turned, somehow, into a make-out session. The two of you ended up on his couch, hands all over each other and bubbling laughter. And you refused to complain. It was everything you wanted and then so much more.

Leaving had been so hard. All you wanted to do was to lose yourself in Jeonghan and all that he was and that silently promised to be, even if it was just for one night. You had to force yourself to leave and Jeonghan didn’t make it easier for you. If anything, he did his best to make it as hard as possible.

He went down with you, and waited for the cab by your side, your hand tucked inside the pocket of his jacket while he played with your fingers.

“You could let me take you back” you looked at him, eyebrows raised “I don’t mean driving but I could get in the cab with you and then come back”

“That’s just a waste of time. I’ll text you once I get home, I promise”

It was clear that your answer wasn’t the one he wanted but it was the only one he was going to get. He pulled you closer to him while you waited for the cab. The position was awkward you didn’t want to move, not in the least.

You were there for a couple of minutes before the taxi finally pulled up by your side. Jeonghan opened the door for you and waited for you to get inside.

“Sir, I may not look like it, but I am crazy. So I hope you can get her some safe and sound”

The driver looked at you from his rearview mirror, eyes wide.

“He really is” you played along “He once threw hot water at a kid”

Jeonghan laughed, a little too hysterically, too much wine you were sure. He stuck his head through the window and quickly kissed you.

“Seriously, text me as soon as you get home”

With a groan, you hid your face in your hands, knowing fully well that the warmth in your cheeks didn't come from the weather but from the memory of Jeonghan. You laughed a little, remembering how you had to assure the driver that Jeonghan wasn't actually crazy and that he had never thrown hot water at a child. The man didn't seem to believe you but that mattered very little.

You were overflown with a sort of happiness that was new and also so very scary.

That giddiness was something you always wanted to feel, but never actually got around to it. Your previous boyfriends, not that there were many of them, never really managed to get that much of a reaction out of you. That was not to say that you didn’t like them at all, because you did. You wouldn’t have stayed with them for a second too long if there were no feelings at all involved.

Your feelings for them, however, were so small compared with the way you felt about Jeonghan. It was one date, just one night, and it felt as if your entire life had changed in a way you thought that there would be no coming back from.

“You’re early,” someone said behind you.

You felt as if your soul had just left your body when your entire body jumped at the new sound. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you failed to notice Seungkwan walking in and of course, Vernon right behind him.

“Jesus, what the fuck” you ran your hands over your face before turning around to face him.

Like most mornings, Seungkwan had a coffee in his hand and his phone in the other one. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him without a coffee in his hands. You weren’t sure how someone could drink so much coffee and still function but then again, he was drinking iced americano most times and the coffee in there had so much water that you were sure most of the caffeine was deluded so…

“So…” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

God, you hated the fact that he knew. Behind him, Vernon also had an expectant face. Of course, he too wanted to know. The problem was that you didn’t want either of them to know. It was something you wanted to keep to yourself, locked behind countless doors. And maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky enough you’d get to savor that feeling again if a second date with Jeonghan ever happened.

“Do you want to go over something or we can just… you know, work?”

“Aaah” he complained, carefully setting his coffee on his desk before spinning your chair until you turned to him “You can’t leave me in the dark like this”

“Us, actually,” Vernon said, doing the best he could to hide his smile.

You had always thought that Vernon was someone who was on the quieter side of the world. Mostly he kept to himself but when paired with Boo Seungkwan? The man could be just as troublesome as the other one. Pair that with the fact that both of them were good friends who often went out together and you’d get yourself a perfect mix for a gossip disaster.

Seungkwan, as the one who is so friendly everyone just wants to spill their deepest secrets because he looks like someone who’d always offer crazy advice.

Vernon, as the quiet one everyone wants to tell their secrets because he looks like someone who’d keep all of them just to himself.

The one thing everyone seems to forget is the fact that those two are friends and they talk. Hopefully only amongst themselves but you weren’t willing to bet on it. There was no way you’d want people to know that you went out with the one person who you were working with. The celebrity, most of all.

“I’m not saying a word” you just shook your head and moved away from him "We have a lot of work to do, so get going".

“You’re not saying a word about what exactly?” Jihoon said, coming up from behind Seungkwan.

The younger man looked somewhat in distress, his eyes wide going from you to Jihoon, then back to you again. It was at that moment you realized that he had never really crossed your mind, in any way while you were Jeonghan, ever. He wasn’t even an afterthought or anything of the sort. He wasn’t even your boss. Jihoon was no one.

“I went on a date last night, that’s all”

It was as if you were the one entering the ice, the one who was being watched by so many eyes. Instead, you were one of the people watching. Your legs were shaking up and down, up and down, and there was no real way for you to stop it from happening. You felt as if your future was the one in line, not Jeonghan’s.

To you, the only real consequence of him not making it was that that documentary would be canceled, for him it meant that everything he had worked for was lost and his last opportunity would never come.

So, the reality of it was that you were nervous for him. Because you had finally gotten a real glimpse of Jeonghan and you knew how much it meant to him, all of it. He downplayed it, yes, but it was on everything he didn’t say.

You could see it in his eyes whenever he mentioned figure skating, which was surprisingly very little when you didn’t have a camera on his face. It was clear in the practiced every single movement with such care, always aiming for precision, in an almost healthy way.

Jeonghan downplayed it a lot but the sport meant everything to him.

You sat in the bleachers, Seungkwan to your left and Vernon to your right. The three of you hadn’t gotten permission to be closer to the ice, or anywhere near really. Athlete after athlete performed, every single one of them doing so well that you felt your heart start to beat in a mismatched way.

Your stomach was tied in knots, a lump on your throat as if you were about to spill your guts out at any given moment. You were too nervous and you hated it. Because if Jeonghan saw you, which you doubted, you wanted him to see someone who was confident and sure that he was going to do well, not someone who looked like she was about to faint. I will find you in the crow, he said the night before.

“You look like you’re the one about to be evaluated,” Seungkwan said.

He patted your hand, which unknowingly gripped your thigh as strongly as you possibly could, your knuckles turning white.

“How did he do this for so many years?” you whispered

The question was more to yourself than to Seungkwan.

In one of the many conversations, you had with Jeonghan, coming to mind.

“The worst part of it all is being compared to other people,” he said, eyes distant, as if his mind was taking him to somewhere he didn’t want to be but at that moment he didn’t have a choice “Because what if I’m having a great day but the other isn’t? What if I had more chance to practice than others? What if I have an injury and the other doesn’t? We’re never on the same scale”

He looked troubled, eyes brows furrowed. You took his hand in yours, your fingers massaging his palm. His eyes looked a bit clearer when he turned to you but still, there was so much vulnerability in them. For a moment it was like seeing the same boy from the videos, someone who seemed powerful but was still so scared.

And ultimately that’s what it was. Fear.

It was his last chance and he was scared if might fail. Jeonghan wasn’t too sure that he could live with himself if he did.

“Truth is, there’s never going to be a scale. Ideally, it would be great but that is not the reality of it. I think your best should be enough, always. You’ve doing everything you can and we can all see it” you scooted closer to him on the couch, resting your shin on his shoulder “To me, you’re the best in the entire world, ever. It’s not much, I know, but I hope you know that I will unconditionally root for you”

Maybe it was unfair for Jeonghan to think like that, but for the first time in many years, he truly felt as if someone was by his side. You held his hand because you knew that he was scared, you cared and the reasons were yet unknown to him. Either way, he was going to hold onto it.

“I think that for people like us it sounds excruciating, but I bet he’s used to it” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back.

He hates it too, you wanted to say to choose to stay quiet. If there were things Jeonghan wanted to keep a secret, even if it was opposite to what you were supposed to do, you would keep your mouth shut.

Even before the screams, you felt something swift in the air and it could only be described as Jeonghan. It was as if the air suddenly turned electric and his present, all on its own, larger than the small arena you were in. When you finally saw him, the air got stuck in your lungs.

On a daily basis, Jeonghan was an extremely handsome man. Almost inhuman and unfair to others around him. But that day, while he walked in, he was indescribable. Nothing about him was normal.

It was like seeing a work of art in motion as if a painting on display in a fancy museum had come to life and was walking among the mere mortals of that gymnasium.

Jeonghan wore blue, a color that you discovered was his signature. In every competition he participated in, even as a child, Jeonghan wore blue. Whether it was the entire outfit or just some detail. He always wore blue.

And then, like a moth drawn to a flame, Jeonghan's eyes met yours and he smiled. A different smile than the one you had seen him give so many times before. It was more natural, even sincere. You wanted to have smiled back and waved at him, but it was as if your entire body was frozen and any movement was impossible. And maybe you didn't want even more attention focused on yourself. The people sitting next to the three of you were whispering among themselves, so the last thing you wanted was for them to find out that that beautiful smile was directed at you.

"I don't know what's going on between you, but if someone smiled like that at me, right in the middle of the arena, with dozens of people watching, I'd get married immediately" Seungkwan didn't share the same feeling of remaining still and silent, but at least he was polite enough to whisper at your side.

A whimper escaped your mouth, but you chose not to say anything else. Because, in truth, you didn't even know what was happening between the two of you. There wasn't a conversation, a simple "yes, we're together", but whatever it was, however long it lasted, you were willing to enjoy every second of it.

Jeonghan positioned himself in the center of the ice, eyes closed, and took a deep breath, once, twice. The first chords of If I Could See You Again sounded through the scattered speakers and a new and completely unknown feeling spread throughout your body. Pride, perhaps.

One after another, Jeonghan executed the moves with precision, almost exactly like he had done in training. You couldn't tell if the differences were good or bad, which could take or add points to the total.

Almost at the end, with just a few seconds left until the end of the short program, Jeonghan lost his balance. Not to the point where he fell, but enough that he had to touch the ground to stop himself from falling. The three of them said, in unison, "shit", Seungkwan making a crying sound in the back of his throat.

With one last turn, the performance came to an end and the song ended. Even with the mistake, the crowd exploded in screams and applause. The famous rabbits and stuffed animals were thrown towards Jeonghan. Following the people around you, you also stood up, clapping your hands.

Your heart begged Jeonghan to look in your direction again, even for a second. Jeonghan raised his head and the smile he gave was that rehearsed one, that you had seen many times before and that wasn't even remotely real. The irritation at his mistake was clear in his eyes, but no one seemed to notice.

He bowed to the judges and the audience behind them, sliding across the ice to catch one of the swooping rabbits. Finally, he turned towards you, his eyes immediately meeting yours. Throwing all caution out the window, you said "you did well" without making any real sound and hoped he understood.

Despite the bad taste in his mouth, left by his complete inability to complete the performance without mistakes, Jeonghan felt as if the hand that was squeezing his heart loosened when he looked at you. He waved once more to the audience and skated to the exit. His coach was waiting for him. The man's face was a strange mixture of relief and frustration.

"You did well," he said, even though the words were the same as yours, the intention was completely different "It wasn't such a serious mistake, so it shouldn't have too many points deducted. If it goes well tomorrow, we can advance to the world championship"

Jeonghan nodded. He didn't need to hear that, he knew, better than anyone, what was at risk and what he needed to do.

A performance without errors, that's all he needed.

At the request of Jeonghan's coach, there was no filming after the performance.

"He can talk about everything tomorrow. Now he has to focus on the free program"

You had no arguments to argue and you didn't want to either. Filming was, by far, your last concern. All you wanted to know was if Jeonghan was okay. You spent hours debating whether to call him or not, and in the end, you decided not to.

The big truth was that you had no idea where the lines were, which ones you could cross, and which ones you should religiously stay behind.

Therefore, you chose to send a text. Are you okay? was all you ask. Then you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and waited.

You didn't know what to do if Jeonghan would respond, or if he was concentrating to the point of not going near his cell phone - which was probably a good idea.

Jeonghan had the fourth-best score among short programs. Seungkwan explained that despite the mistake and the near fall, Jeonghan had moves that were considered difficult to execute and those were worth more points and he was precise in almost all of them, which resulted in him having a good score.

"If he hadn't made any mistakes, it's possible he would have come first," he commented, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Seungkwan was easily a fan. He didn't make the slightest point of hiding it. You weren’t one at first, you knew the bare minimum about skating, but as time went on, as you got to know Jeonghan, it was completely inevitable.

"I'm sure he can do it" Seungkwan assured.

The phone vibrated at first and half a second later the screen lit up and Jeonghan's name shone on the screen, a photo of his smiling face above his name. You hadn't uploaded a photo when you saved his contact, but you were sure who the culprit was.

"When did you put a picture of yourself on my phone?"

Jeonghan felt relief wash over his body just hearing your voice, knowing you were smiling on the other side. He was able to take a deep breath for the first time since the morning.

He couldn't quite understand how he had gotten into that situation. He couldn't even pinpoint a catalyzing moment, the moment he realized something was changing. One moment you were just someone he had to work with and then you became someone he longed for. There was no middle ground. It was like someone flipped a switch in his mind and his heart, as he could finally just be. No strings attached, no fear.

With you, he was simply Jeonghan, the person. Not the athlete, not the guy who appeared on television now and then. He was just another guy, with a normal job, a normal life. There are many normal ones, Jeonghan, yours may be different from mine and that's okay, you said it once.

Maybe that was the moment he realized he was in love with you. Maybe perceived isn't the right word, but it was the moment he allowed himself to feel.

"It's an inconceivable fact that you don’t have a picture of me on your phone"

You laughed at it and he wished he could be close to you. He wanted all your moments, no matter how small and bad they were, to be engraved in his mind.

"My phone has a password," you said. Your tone wasn't reproachful, you weren’t irritated. If anything, you were happy to be talking to him, that he was in your life.

"Your birthday isn't a very clever password," he said, laughing.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but the answer was pretty obvious: Seungkwan.

"Are you okay?" you asked, tone cautious. "No pain?"

You hated having to change the subject so abruptly, hated that you were the one changing the light tone of the conversation. But you had to know, you had to ask.

It was a second, nothing more than that, that turned on a warning light in your head. Jeonghan was sitting, waiting for his score announcement, when his face quickly contorted. It was there and then it wasn't. But you had seen that scene before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Yes, I am," he said, still trying to keep his tone light.

"Jeonghan..."

He wondered when you were able to understand that he was lying. It didn't really matter. Jeonghan liked knowing that you knew him well enough to know the difference. It was the first time anyone cared enough to understand.

Jeonghan realized that by your side, he experienced many firsts.

"A little discomfort, but I told the doctor" he was quick to say, knowing exactly what was coming next "I have ice on my foot right now. I can compete tomorrow, it won't be a problem"

He wasn't lying. He felt the discomfort after his body cooled down and told the doctor. Maybe it was in the hopes of having a fair reason to give up. He had never talked about being in pain so quickly.

"I'm not confident" he admitted "It's like I was 12 again, in my first competition. I think I was more confident before, to be honest"

He lay down on the bed, staring at the hotel ceiling. It was a simple beige ceiling, hideous, but somehow, it gave him some peace of mind.

“You did really well in your first competition,” you said, hoping that would somehow help him.

Jeonghan just hummed in response but stayed quiet. He had too much on his mind, you knew. It was the shadow of a possible new injury, the idea of not being well enough to perform the movements easily, and the fact of not being confident. Everything had turned into a big snowball and he no longer knew what to do with all these problems that seemed unsolvable.

"Do you remember that day, when you were training and everyone was around? Even Jihoon showed up to watch, which was quite strange by the way" Jeonghan said yes, quietly, which was enough for you to continue " You weren't confident that day either and asked everyone to leave"

"Except you," he said.

"Yes, except me" you smiled, the memory still fresh in your mind, as if it had happened the day before, and not months before "We were there for another half an hour and you didn't make a single mistake after getting it right. I know it's harder now, that you can't kick all those people out of there, but you can imagine that it's just the two of us again. I told you before and I can tell you as many times as you need to hear, I'm rooting for you unconditionally"

Jeonghan sighed, his body finally relaxing completely.

"You could be more eloquent in your cheering," he said, his tone mocking.

"If I'm too eloquent, we won’t use Vernon’s videos," you said laughing.

Your laugh, Jeonghan decided, was the eighth wonder of the world. It was his choice and the only right one among all the possibilities.

"You could at least smile"

"That I can do"

You sat in the same place as the day before, the only difference was that Seungkwan was on the left and Vernon was on the right. But you were in exactly the same place as you promised Jeonghan you would. Not that you exactly had much of a choice, it was assigned seats, but at least you were lucky to have the same ones.

Also like the previous day, Jeonghan was the last to compete. You watched them all carefully, trying your best to spot mistakes, but you could only see the obvious ones. When, for example, the athlete who was in second, taking into account only the short program scores, fell. You knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't contain your squeak of joy. Both Seungkwan and Vernon laughed, but you knew they shared the feeling.

Everyone wanted Jeonghan to do well, of course.

Exactly like before, the world seemed to stop when Jeonghan entered. And this time he knew exactly where to look, where you were in the crowd. When he smiled and you smiled back, he felt like he had made the right decision at some point. Because, somehow, you were there and everything seemed like it would work out.

And even if everything went wrong, Jeonghan felt like he would be okay too.

You wanted to scream with the rest of the audience when Jeonghan took the podium in second place. You knew it wasn't what he wanted, but you also knew I wanted it more than he expected. But, as you had told him on the phone, if I were more eloquent, all the footage would be lost.

You excused yourself from Seungkwan and walked to the other side, where it was empty. When the silver medal was finally placed around your neck, you clapped and screamed like the other girls next to you. Jeonghan's free program was perfect, the deductions made by the judges, according to Seungkwan, made no sense at all - but you were sure it was the fan version of him speaking than anything else.

If it weren't for the lowest score from the previous day, Jeonghan would have been on the podium in first place. However, when he finished his presentation, he seemed to care little whether he had gotten a good score or the position he would get. He seemed satisfied with his performance. His smile as he bowed to the audience was genuine and joyful.

"Will you allow me to be honest?" Joshua said beside you.

You brought a hand to your heart, your body moving involuntarily away from him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You smiled and shook your head. There were a few times that your and Joshua's paths crossed. He was Jeonghan's childhood friend and would occasionally appear. You were so focused on Jeonghan and on his performance that you hadn't noticed that you hadn't seen Joshua on either day of the competition.

“Of course,” you said clearing your throat.

Joshua stuck his hands in his pants pockets, his eyes still focused on Jeonghan who was walking down the podium and returning to the locker room. He looked at the medal, a small smile on his face, almost completely covered by his long hair.

"I thought you would be a problem, but I'm glad I was wrong"

When Jeonghan was out of sight, you finally turned to Joshua. He seemed to apologize with his eyes.

“A problem,” you repeated, to make sure you weren’t hearing things.

He scratched his head and smiled.

"Yes, a problem. You have become a central point for Jeonghan in recent times, I thought you could be dangerous to reach the goal of the Olympics. But looking at him now, I think you were never a problem, but rather the solution"

It was impossible to contain your smile for the rest of the night. Everyone left together after the press conference, which for once was not a fiasco.

You and Jeonghan never told anyone else that you were together. You want to know for sure what it was. But when everyone arrived at the restaurant, the two of you, Seungkwan, Vernon, Joshua, and the coach, everyone just seemed to move in a way to let you and Jeonghan sit next to each other.

Every time he placed his hand on your leg, a new wave of heat spread throughout your body. You were sure that Jeoghan knew what he was knowing, that he knew the effect it had. When you looked at him, he was looking at you smiling. He looked like a naughty child, who knew he was up to no good and was just waiting for someone to show up and tell him off.

The coach seemed uncomfortable, and now and then he cleared his throat. He only knew the rumors about Jeonghan, he had never seen him with a woman before. Joshua acted as if it were just another day, something he was already used to. Seungkwan and Vernon exchanged looks and laughed, you were sure you would have to deal with them later. The teasing would be tireless and at this point, it would be impossible to stop rumors from spreading around the office.

The thought that others might know what was going on between you and Jeonghan didn't scare you, at least not the way you thought it would. You were afraid that people would think you were less professional because of this, and that you might lose credibility. But none of that seemed to matter.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. You didn't care if they knew because, at the end of the day, it was nobody's business.

You had made a name for yourself and it had nothing to do with your personal life.

And Jeonghan... he made you feel things you had never felt before. Your other boyfriends, as much as you liked them, didn't compare. The feeling you had for them seemed insignificant in comparison.

You wanted, as absurd as it might seem, to take care of Jeonghan. Not that he needed it, you knew he could manage just fine on his own. You wanted to be someone he could share his problems with, someone he could count on. You wanted to be someone who could be a safe haven, someone he didn't need to hide from.

And you thought, to a certain extent, you had become that person.

And without realizing it, even if unintentionally, Jeonghan had become that person for you too. When you had nightmares you wanted to call him, to be comforted by his sweet voice. You liked it when he held your hand, just because he liked it. You liked that he sent texts at random moments that made you smile and that left everyone around you wondering what had happened.

You had never believed that I could fall in love, not like that. The mere thought of liking someone like that seemed impossible, at least to you. You still had memories of your mother crying, right after your father left. You had promised yourself that you would never let anyone approach you like that. But Jeonghan showed up and it was as if the thought had never crossed your mind.

After the initial shock of meeting Jeonghan, it was easy to understand why people fell in love with him.

Even at that moment, when he wasn't doing anything much, just talking to Joshua and Seungkwan, the infamous butterflies didn't seem to leave you.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked suddenly.

Everyone had already eaten and some were waiting for dessert. It felt wrong to get up.

"Are you tired?"

As if on cue, Jeonghan closed his eyes and yawned, making everyone laugh, even the coach. He grabbed your hand and pulled you lightly, his head slightly tilted towards the restaurant door.

"We're going now," he said as he took your hand and in his and guided you out of the restaurant.

The thing about Jeonghan is that you never wanted to let him go. Once he was around you never wanted him to leave. So when he offered to take you to your room and said yes when you invested him in, you almost giggled like a teenager.

Is that how people felt when they liked someone? You knew the feeling of liking someone, yes, but it was different. A new feeling that was both exciting and scary. Your brain was partially inclined to run away and partly desperate to just stay.

When liking someone you always think back to your mother and how she never really recovered after your father left. Of course, she smiled and had many happy moments over the years but there was this distinct glow in her eyes that simply vanished the second he left.

You had always promised yourself that you would never give someone that much power over you and while you knew that you weren’t quite there yet with Jeonghan, you knew that there was a high chance of becoming something so great one day you’d have no control over.

Without much thought, you took his hand on your and kissed his knuckles.

"What 's that for?"

You shook your head, still keeping his hand close to your face, sighing when he cupped your cheeks.

"Nothing, I'm just really proud of you. You did so well today"

Jeonghan laughed, his eyes going top your eyes then to your lips then back to your eyes again.

"I didn't win" he felt the need to remind you.

You turned your face to the side and planted a kiss on the palm of his hand.

"It was your first time back, you did fantastically"

"Thank you for being there," he said, voice suddenly serious "It really meant a lot to me"

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the lips.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you go, not when he finally had you in his arms again, without anyone around. He pulled you closer to his body, his left hand at the base of your neck. He kissed your cheek, first the left one, then the right one, the tip of our nose until he finally reached your lips.

At first, the kiss was sweet, tentative, kind even. The tip of his tongue touched your bottom lip. Suddenly it was like all hell had broken loose. It was him and you but everywhere. He ran his hand down your neck, to your back until he reached the hem of your shirt. Goosebumps erupted when you felt his skin over yours.

His touch was so small, so insignificant, but it had such a great effect on you. You were out of breath partially from the kiss and partially from his touch. It was too little but also too much.

You pulled back from him and the look in his eyes was almost enough to bring you to your knees. You had never really seen the whole “his eyes darkened” thing but in that moment there was no better way to describe him. Jeonghan had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before, different from anything you had witnessed.

It took your breath away.

“I’m gonna” you pointed at the bathroom and quickly left him all alone in the room.

You needed a moment, hell not even you knew why you needed a moment. Your heart felt like it was about to combust with how quickly it was beating. You just needed to gather yourself, and maybe calm down a little bit before you went back into the room.

You twisted the faucet over the bathtub. A shower would have been faster, yes, but a little too fast. You didn’t wait for it to completely fill up to get in. You pulled your clothes off swiftly, leaving them on the floor beside the tub, before getting in.

Your mind was racing. Maybe a good way to describe it would be to say that there was a puppy with too much energy running from side to side in your head.

Five minutes went by before you heard the door opening and Jeonghan walked him. To his merit, his eyes stayed on your face the entire time until he sat down by your side.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shin resting on the edge of the tub.

That was such a good question because you had no idea if there was something wrong. There isn’t, a voice said inside your mind. There was no reason for you to have run off like that.

“I’m not used to this,” you said as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers in his. His hand was so warm against your cold one “For a second it was too much”

“Did I…?”

You started to shake your head before he could get another word out.

“No, no, no” you sat down on the tub and moved as close to him as possible, spilling some water out in the process but Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind “I like you, really like you”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“In my world? Yes”

In your world, Jeonghan had managed to gather, all emotions made you want to run away. It was easier for you to deal with the bad, the sad, the hateful. The good part of it was hard because you had no real starting point for it.

“Let me show you my world, then”

He didn’t really wait for your answer and he leaned over the edge and captured your lips in his. His touch was tender as he crawled your face, leaving a trail of kisses from your lips, down your neck, till your collarbone. He smiled against your skin when he hit a sensitive spot that made you go a little breathless as a small moan left your lips.

Jeonghan ran the tip of his index finger across the valley of your breasts before cupping one of them in his hand. His thumb running over your hard nipples. Your moan was swallowed by his lips.

Your entire body became hot under his touch. Melting, falling apart and he had barely even touched you at all. It was too much but not at all enough.

Jeonghan kept exploring your body with his hand, running it down your stomach. Ever so slowly he moved his hand further down.

A gasp left your lips when his finger found your clit, drawing small, slow, circles. You leaned forward, your forehead pressed on the crook of his neck. His skin was warm, hot even. You turned your head to the side slightly until your lips came in contact with the skin of his neck. You pressed small kisses on him, sucking his skin at the same time he applied more pressure against you.

Jeonghan pulled back for a second, his focus solely on you, on your hooded eyes, the way your cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink, how your lips were slightly parted, the way his name came out of your lips in the sweetest moan when his finger slipped over your folds, teasing your hole.

He was so completely enamored by you, in ways he never thought to be possible. In his past relationships, he had always been careful. He didn’t want to get caught but also didn’t want to fall too much. His life only had one direction, one goal. When he was by your side he just wanted to slow down a little and enjoy every single second he could with you.

Jeonghan wanted you to feel the same, this new sense of freedom that only came with these feelings, this desire to know every corner of someone’s soul.

Your grip on Jeonghan’s arms thighed, your eyes watering as you let your head fall back. He pushed two fingers into you, slowly until he was knuckles deep. He sucked in a breath when your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him deeper as he curled his fingers and then slightly opened them. He rubbed the heel of his hand over your clit as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out.

He was hard inside his pants, the zipper of his jeans making minimal pressure, not anywhere close to what he needed but he was happy with what he got, with the day he saw you let all of your walls down around him.

Jeonghan leaned forward a little, taking your lips into his, his tongue exploring your mouth as he moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing on your clit just as fast.

“Jeonghan…” you cried his name, again and again as your breathing got shallow.

You held his face in your hands, your thumb over his bottom lips, your eyes never leaving his as you became undone in front of him. Your legs quivering, your body arching until your chest was pressed against him, your loud moans filling the bathroom alongside the sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you asked

He had no intention of doing so, not until your body stopped shaking until you rode the last of your orgasm.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world. The seven wonders? Nothing compared to you.

Breathing heavily you leaned over Jeonghan, small spasms still making your body shake. You had boyfriends before, fucked all of them, some of them weren’t even your boyfriend and it had never felt like that, earth-shattering, live altering. You kissed him tenderly.

God, you were in love with the man.

You never thought of what it would be like to wake up in someone’s arms. It was never something you thought about too often when you had a boyfriend and it wasn’t something you craved. Being on your own, was something you were used to, whether it was on life or in your bed. Waking up to Jeonghan was something entirely new experience and one that you could never say that you didn’t like.

His body was turned to yours, and his hand possessively held your thigh. Most of his face was covered by his hair and this time around you didn’t shy away from pushing it away from his face.

“This is not creepy at all,” Jeonghan said, his eyes still closed.

You were startled for a second, your body involuntarily moving away from him and then settling back into him. This time your fingers weren't feather-like. You allowed yourself to fully touch him, to enjoy the feeling of his skin against yours.

“I can leave, if you want”

You slightly rose from the bed, but it was far enough for Jeonghan. He tugged at your waist and pulled back on the bed and got on top of you.

“You’re not going anywhere”

Jeonghan pressed his lips over yours and you felt your body melt under him. Was there ever a better place in the world to be? You weren’t too sure if there was, but if such place even existed you didn’t want to know.

“Tell me a secret,” he asked.

It was almost noon and you were still in bed with Jeonghan. He had asked for room service a couple of hours before and after eating both of you got back in bed, cuddling like two teenagers in love.

“I used to have a crush on Jihoon,” you said with a laugh.

There was a moment of silence, Jeonghan's body growing stiff by your side. That wasn't your intention at all, you wanted to bring a laugh out of him, and not make him uncomfortable.

“I don't think that's something you say while in bed with a guy, naked”

You laughed giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“You said to tell you a secret, that’s the only one I have left to give you,” you said pushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, smiling at him “When I met him, I didn’t know that he was going to be my boss, in fact I thought that he was regular employee like me. A couple of weeks later I found that that not only he was my boss but that he also had a long-term girlfriend, who is now engaged to”

Instead of focusing only on the crush part, which was one Jeonghan had no real desire to know about, he turned all of his attention to the first part of what you said, that you had no other secret to tell.

Though he thought of it as impossible, as everyone has secrets, he knew that you were somehow telling him the truth.

“And now?”

He propped his chin on your shoulder, his eyes shining as he waited for an answer.

You found that running your hand through his hair and playing with it was a new hobby and one that both of you seemed to enjoy. Jeonghan had fallen asleep twice while your hand was on his head.

“Now he's just a boss who's made me take a project I didn't want” you ran your finger over his nose and booped the tip “But now I’m really glad I did. Maybe the best decision forced on me in years?”

You couldn’t help but laugh when Jeonghan placed several loud kisses all over your face.

“Your turn”

You lightly pushed him away, just enough to see his face again.

“I’m constantly terrified,” he said after a few minutes in silence “I keep seeing myself falling on the ice, like it happened last night. When I close my eyes, that’s the only thing I see”

It was something hard to admit, even to himself. Failing was like a shadow that daily dark cloud following him wherever he went. His mind and dreams were filled with images of him doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do, of what he was expected to do.

Though he had been practicing hard, to exhaustion even, and did his best to put a great face, telling everyone just how confident he was, the truth was that Jeonghan wasn’t confident at all in himself. The chances of him making it were very low and though he did manage to get a good score and placed high on the podium, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to get him to the Olympics, much less to win it.

“I’m not a sports person, right?” Jeonghan nodded enthusiastically and pushed him, making him laugh “But I think sometimes falling is inevitable. You know something I believe in? You”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile at the words. He felt as if the hand squeezing his heart had let go of him. He felt light.

“If there’s someone in this world that can go through all of this, injuries, surgeries, rehab and still get to compete on the same level as before. Maybe even better. I believe in you. I hope you can too”

Months Later

Jeonghan hissed as he slowly pulled the sock off. The usually cream skin was turning an ugly dark shade of purple, his ankle already twice as big as was supposed to be. He wanted to scream out in frustration.

Of course, he had to get hurt again, of course, it had to be on the day before he was set to compete.

It was like whoever was writing the script of his life enjoyed putting him through pain. Jeonghan finally felt as if his life was falling into place. He was feeling healthy, he felt as if every time he got on the ice he was getting better, improving his performance every single time. And then there was you, who came into his life seemingly like a storm and turned his world upside down in ways he wasn’t aware he needed.

He had never felt more at ease, comfortable, than when he was with you. It had been a very long time since there was any need to shoot at his place but he always found himself calling you, or going to you. On days when you had to work late, you’d still come over and crawl into his bed, attaching yourself to him as if it was where you were supposed to be all along. You’d place a kiss on his spine and drift off to sleep without a word. Then, if there was no early schedule or practice, the two of you would just take turns cooking and talking about everything and nothing at all.

When he was with you, Jeonghan knew he had found the balance he had always looked for. It wasn’t the loud and reckless kind of relationship like the one he had before. With you Jeonghan felt at peace, home in many different ways. He liked to think that you felt the same way about him too.

Maybe he was being too greedy in wanting the creer, the legacy, as well as the love life but there was no way he was willing to let either one go, even if it meant that his blood would be covering the ice at the end of his performance.

“How are you” the door to his shared room was suddenly flung open and Joshua walked in “feeling…?”

His friend's voice got lower as his eyes moved from Jeonghan’s face to his ankle, then back to his face again. Joshua moved without saying a word. He opened the mini bar and pulled whichever can was colder.

“Does Bumzu know about this?”

It was weird to hear his coach’s name and he wasn’t too sure why. He said the name countless times since he was a teenager, he even said it earlier that day, but you had never said it. You’d always refer to him as just coach, even while directly talking to him. You never said his name and the man didn’t seem to mind it either.

Jeonghan looked back at his foot and then at his ankle. He had no idea how it had gotten that bad. He felt a little pain after the eighteen-hour flight so as soon as he settled down in his room he put some ice on it, which had seemingly done the trick. It looked fine. No purple bruise, no swelling. His ankle looked fine and felt fine, so he left to attend the open ceremony and then headed to practice for the next two days. He felt nothing. He was fine.

Until he, clearly, wasn’t.

“Does she know?”

Joshua pulled his leg up on the bed and put his feet up on two pillows. Jeonghan hissed again when he felt the ice against his skin and let his body fall back on the mattress.

“No, and she can’t know” he covered his eyes with his arm, sighing “I’ll tell Bumzu tomorrow”

“Don’t you think this should go into the documentary?” Joshua asked as he rolled the can from his ankle to the arch of his foot rhythmically “Don’t you think your girlfriend should know about this?”

Jeonghan played with the word on his tongue for a second. Girlfriend. Neither of you had ever labeled the relationship, too focused on the moment, on enjoying what you had and charging forward together. A label didn’t seem all too important. It was the kind of relationship that was always evolving but somehow staying the same.

“If she finds out, she’ll ask me to stop” he paused finally looking at his friend “And if she does, I will”

He couldn’t help but think about your face. The way you smiled while holding his hands in yours sitting on his couch, just a few minutes before the two of you had to leave for the airport. Your eyes shone as you told him how much you believed in him, that you knew he wanted to win but it would be okay if he didn’t.

It was the kind of speech he heard many many times before in his life and he always hated it. It always seemed shallow, just empty words thrown in the wind. But when it came from you, when those words left your lips they felt genuine, he knew it wasn’t something you just said because it was what you thought he wanted to hear.

“I’ll scream the loudest this time,” you said laughing as you ran your fingertips over his eyebrows and then tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Jeonghan couldn’t help you lean into your touch. “I’ll be sitting away from Seungkwan and Vernon, so there really won’t be any way for me to ruin the footage”

The words I love you slipped out of Jeonghan’s mouth with ease, as they have always been there, like he was used to saying them. It was never been easy for him, even to his mother and sister. He loved them, of course he did. He showed it to them in all ways he could think of, but he never said. At least not as an adult.

Home, he had decided. Your eyes were his home. You were.

Jeonghan was certain that he would remember that moment forever. The way you leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The way you whispered I love you too. How you broke into a smile when you chastely kissed him and added so much it’s insane.

“Maybe she would be right” Joshua’s voice pulled him back to reality “Maybe you should stop. What if this gets bad enough that you can’t even walk anymore? What if…”

Jeonghan sat back up again.

“Do you remember when we were kids and I told you that I wanted a gold medal, an Olympic gold medal?” he suddenly asked.

Joshua closed his eyes and sighed. Obviously, he remembered it but he wished Jeonghan didn’t. Most of all, he wished Jeonghan wouldn’t use a promise he made almost twenty years before.

“Shua” Jeonghan pressed, his tone almost desperate. He felt bad, of course, but it was the only thing he had to stop Joshua. His last weapon to use.

“I promised I would help in any way possible since we all knew I wasn’t that great of a skater”

It was a stupid promise, made by stupid boys but even as adults they both stuck to it, like it was some sort of pact.

“The best way to help is to keep it a secret for the next 3 days”

The thing about competitions is that they are exhausting but not just for the people actively competing but for those working on the sidelines as well. you had been following Jeonghan for months now, to all sorts of competitions, rehab, and just his life in general.

In almost all of them he managed to make it to the podium and each time he looked brighter, and happier with his performance and the outcome. Though everything seemed to be going just fine, there was this itch in the back of your mind, telling you that there was something wrong with him.

Jeonghan seemed to be taking good care of his body and he was periodically going to the doctor. You weren’t too sure if that was a good thing. On one hand, it was good because it meant that he was in constant care for a serious injury. But it could also mean that he was in pain and that itch on your brain was right.

Whatever it was, Jeonghan wasn’t willing to share. He kept saying that he was fine and you were trying to believe him, you really were. But there was something in his eyes, in the way his body moved a little more stiff than usual. He had not looked at your direction once - which was something unusual.

The rational part of your brain said that it was just stress, crazy high amounts of it tugging at all of his nerves and muscles. It was his last chance so it was natural. He was an athlete focused on the competition ahead, of course, he would be a little different from what you were used to seeing.

However, the irrational and insecure part of your brain told you that regretted saying that he loved you and didn’t know how to take it back. That didn’t make any sense at all. Jeonghan wasn’t the kind of person who just said things to please the people around him. He would rather keep quiet than say something he didn’t mean. You knew that. You knew him. If he said it, then he meant it.

So why was he…

“Is he hurt again?” a familiar voice asked to your right.

You had completely forgotten that Jihoon would attend as part of the documentary crew. He had mentioned it the last time you spoke on the phone a couple of weeks before, he also sent an e-mail the day before you left but it had completely escaped your mind.

You blinked at him, your brain not fully registering what he said.

“What?” you asked.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows at you. He pointed at the rink where Jeonghan and the other skaters were warming up. His warm-up was different from what he usually did. He was just moving around, barely using his left foot.

“He’s not using his foot a whole lot” Jihoon pointed out.

He kept talking but his voice became just a distant sound as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, frantically searching for Joshua’s number. He was by the rink talking, in what you assume to be a hushed voice, with Bumzu.

You bit your lips while the phone rang. Despair spread through your chest when Joshua pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to the coach. Both men visibly sighed.

Tears started to well up in your eyes the moment Joshua’s tired voice greeted you.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me what’s wrong with him, please” you begged.

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around, making sure that you couldn’t see his expression. A terrible sign.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything is going according to plan”

“I may still be confused about some rules but my eyes work just fine, Joshua. Something is wrong, even Jihoon can see it”

You watched as he shook his head.

“He’s just hiding his game. We prepare a new program, entirely different, he doesn’t want to show any of it or overwork himself during the warm-up”.

Alarms went off in your head and a whinny sound left your lips. You were well aware of the three pairs of eyes on you, judging the very uncharastically way, so unlike yourself, you were behaving but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Listen“ Joshua’s tone was stern, irritated. Not once had he sounded like that “This is a competition, the biggest one could ever take part in, as well as his last one ever. Yes, things are different this time around. I need you to understand that and not add any pressure or stress on him. Can you do that?”

He didn’t really give you a chance to reply.

“He’s here as an elite athlete and you’re here as the documentarist in charge of capturing every second of it. I highly suggest you start acting accordingly”

The line went mute. The pressure on your head, on your heart, was so big you let your body fall on the seat again. Joshua had never been quite as harsh on you, or at all. He had always been soft spoken, and polite. You doubted that even under the obvious stress of the moment he would act like that. Something was definitely wrong but he wasn’t willing to share, which meant that Jeonghan’s condition was bad. It also meant that he didn’t want you to know what was wrong, the extension of the problem.

Seungkwan was suddenly by your side, his hand on your shoulder. You pushed the single tear that rolled down away and stood up again.

“Is everything okay?”

You just nodded and took the camera he had in his hands, adjusting the settings as an excuse to stay quiet long enough to be able to regain your ability to speak once more. You pushed the camera into Jihoon’s hand with a little more force than necessary, not really caring that he was your boss. His only reaction was to furrow his eyebrows at you one more time.

“Make yourself useful, will you” it didn’t matter if he was there to just watch or not “Do not lose coach out of sight”

You turned your body to Seungkwan and Vernon.

“Seungkwan, you're with Joshua. Vernon and I will focus on Jeonghan” you pointed at the seats you were supposed to take, indicating that Jeonghan would have two different angles on him, Vernon simply nodded “Jeonghan’s condition is less than ideal so we need all of their reactions. Don’t miss anything, every blink is important”

Seungkwan called your name, his fingers gripping the sleeve of your shirt around your wrist. The concern was evident in his eyes. He wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should and you weren’t sure you could speak without breaking into tears. Whether his concern was for you or Jeonghan, you didn’t know. Perhaps a mix of both.

“It’s our job, we should act accordingly”

Jeonghan finally let his body fall on the bed. It had been a long day and he had never felt more exhausted before in his life. But more than that, he was in pain.

His first program had drained him.

Every time he moved his foot it was as if a needle was being forced into his bones. Truth be told, Jeonghan wasn't even sure how he was still standing, how he still managed to walk straight without curving his body in pain. Skating was still a wonder in itself. The idea that both his mother and sister were watching from home maybe was something that helped push him forward. Maybe knowing that you were somewhere in the crowd also helped.

He didn't dare to look for you, didn't dare to look in your direction but he could swear that he had heard you cheer every time he landed, every time he executed a new movement. Having you there and hearing your voice, even if it was a daydream of his crazy mind, had been enough to push him to the end of the program.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and reread your text for the hundredth time. He just stared at his phone for the better part of the day, like the small device held all the answers in the world. All it did though, was call you and that was something that he didn't allow himself to do. It was what he wanted the most, to hear your assuring voice, but he shouldn't. He couldn't. He was satisfied just looking at the black screen when suddenly it lit up with a notification and your name attached to it.

"I will always be rooting for you! No matter what happens you'll always be number one" a second later another text followed "I love you"

Your message was sweet and loving. Jeonghan knew what it meant though. You didn't say anything, but it was clear that you knew something was wrong. Joshua had assured him that he didn't say anything to you but you weren't dumb.

He felt bad for keeping it a secret from you, for pushing you away, but in his mind, it was his only option. It turned out for the best that his coach and the federation didn't allow you and your team to follow him. Watching from the bleachers was all you could do.

Even if their decision somehow benefited him, Jeonghan hated it. He hated the idea of everything that was going wrong. He hated that he was in pain, and once again, hated that the one person he wanted to comfort him was the one he was pushing away. In a way, he felt as if he was drowning and there was no one to even see that there was something off with him.

Jeonghan heard the door opening but he didn't turn around in bed to see who it was, certain that it was only Joshua or maybe Bumzu coming in to check on him. He just turned further into his pillow, wishing for the day to be over soon. He couldn’t even think about his performance, which hadn’t been bad, to be honest.

“So you get injured again and you decide that I shouldn’t know. That’s not very nice, Jeonghan”

He felt his heart in his mouth and he jumped on the bed, suddenly sitting on the middle of the mattress, grimacing when he felt a sharp pain up his leg.

“I wonder who you wanted to keep it a secret from, the team in charge of the documentary or me”

There you were, leaning on the door with your arms crossed over your chest, frowning at him. He could cry while looking at you and perhaps the tears were inevitable because his eyes were already burning.

“How are you here?” he managed to ask.

You gave him a sheepish smile and showed him the badge on your neck. A picture of Joshua greeted him while you took a step close to him and Sar by his side on the bed.

“I stole Joshua's badge and wore it flipped around, no one really bothered to check if it was really me”

You took Jeonghan's right hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his. It was almost a natural movement at this point and you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

Throughout the entire day you had thought about what you would do, how you'd approach him. There was no right way to do it. You had two options: scream at him and tell him to just stop, that it wasn't worth it, or you could just be there for him, offer him your support in any way you could. And while the idea of screaming was great, you knew that it wasn't going to do any good. In fact, it would probably only worsen the situation that was already bad.

“I don't know what to do,” he said, slightly turning his head towards your neck and taking a deep breath, allowing himself to be completely lost in your scent.

“How bad is it?”

If Jeonghan wasn't willing to share it with you, decided that keeping it a secret was his only option it was probably bad but as moved away from you and pulled his pants up you enough to show the purple bruise on his ankle you realized that it was far worse than you could have imagined.

“Oh my God” you covered your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything else.

You thought back at his program, how he executed all of it flawlessly, how he was in second place — only 0.2 behind the first place — how he had a real chance at winning despite all odds.

“It looks worse than it feels, but it doesn't feel good either”

You pushed his hair back, away from his face. His eyes were filled with unwashed tears, so desperate. Seeing him like that was like having someone squeeze your heart with all of their strength, as if trying to turn it into ashes.

“I'm so close to it and I can see it, it's right there. If I just…” he balled his hands into fists as tears finally ran down his face “I just need to do well, do what I've been practicing and I know I'll get it. But this…”

He punched his thigh, eyes closed.

You took his face into your hands, delicately making him look at you. You had no idea that your heart could break just by looking at someone, had no idea that you would feel that way for someone else in your life. It was a crazy thought, a realization that there was someone else in the world that could make you feel like that.

When you told Jeonghan that you loved him it wasn't a lie. You didn't just threw those words around. Your heart was his and it was shattering for him.

You knew what it meant to him, all of it. Jeonghan might have made it seem as if he was just there to win and call it a day but you knew that it ran deeper than that. It was his last everything when it came down to it. His last competition, yes, but it was also his last everything. The last time he could say figure skater Yoon Jeonghan, after that he would just be retired. He hated the media a little too much to try and be one of those sports celebrities.

“If they tape you up, give you enough painkillers, do you think you could do it?” your words were shaky as you spoke “Do you think it's possible?”

Jeonghan couldn't really believe his ears, in what you were saying to him. He was certain that you would tell him to stop, that it was okay, that he didn't have to go all the way to the end. It was a good run, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone, he could almost hear your voice in his mind.

But right there, in front of him, you stood doing the exact opposite of what he expected.

“I thought you'd tell me to stop”

You kissed his face, close to his eyes, where his tears had stained his cheeks. The first one was quick, the second lingering a little bit more.

“I probably should, but it's not what you need” you kissed his forehead, nose, and lips “You're a force to be reckoned with, Jeonghan. If there's someone in the world that can compete in these conditions it's you”

Your heart was oddly at peace with everything. Sneaking into Jeonghan's room had been reckless but necessary, for both of you.

It was scary to imagine him getting injured again. You knew how hard he worked to be able to even get on the ice at all. You knew what it meant to him, so telling him that it was okay to just try felt natural and in some ways the only right option.

Leaving his room had been hard. All you wanted to do was stay there with him, comforting him, in silence. You just wanted to be by his side but you knew that wasn't possible so you left after kissing him.

Maybe telling him to push through was a bad call, maybe telling him to quit was what was best for him but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. Had it been you, with your last chance ever, would you stop or would just just say fuck it and go down trying?

The answer was easy: you'd do the exact same.

“So…” Seungkwan asked as the four of you walked into the gymnasium “Is he okay?”

Seungkwan was a good friend and someone who worried about Jeonghan. He had been the first one to warm up to him and talk with him. Jeonghan liked him too, calling him Seungkwannie and even inviting him for dinner on occasion.

“Not really,” you said as you finally found your seats “But he's going to compete anyway”

“Can he even do that?” Jihoon asked, “Should he do that?”

Your shoulders rose as you sighed.

“He's doing what he thinks is the best option for him”

The conversation ended just like that. There was nothing left to say. All any of you could do was sit and wait.

Jeonghan skated into the rink. His face was serious, no emotion on display. It was a mask of a man who was focused on what he had to do. He eyes the center of the rink, unblinking.

His costume of choice was very simple, just a plain black blouse with silver and blue details on the sleeves and around his neck. His hair was tied back and away from his face.

Looking at him one wouldn’t be able to say that he was in pain, that his ankle was twice its normal size, so close to just giving up. No one could tell that he was shaking. It was imperceptible to those on the bleachers that his heart was beating so fast, so loudly, that he could feel it in his ears.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Once. Twice. Again. He thought of you, with your hands clasped together in a silent prayer, he thought of his mother and sister watching him from home. He thought about himself two and a half years before, how hard he had worked to get to that rink one last time. He thought back to his ten years old self, when he first dreamt of the Olympics.

Winning was his only option.

Jeonghan opened his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The entire gymnasium erupted in loud cheers while Jeonghan thanked the audience, one side, then another. He bows his head a few times, catching one of the bunny dolls thrown at the rink in mid air. His smile is beautiful and large. He became pure happiness and you know that it couldn’t be any different.

Jeonghan managed to deliver his performance in complete perfection, no obvious mistakes were made. You were certain the judges would find something to deduce points but there was no way that he wouldn’t place first.

He waved at the crowd and somehow the cheering got even louder. It’s not his home country but it felt as if everyone in there was applauding him more than all of the athletes before him. And maybe that was really the case.

Jeonghan’s injury had been disclosed to the public right before the beginning of the competition and people love the idea of someone who can overcome whatever it is that stops them, an injury, a disease.

Jeonghan whirled around one more time, hand in the air waving, when face his contorted, his beautiful smile gone and he fell to his knees.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

He didn’t move an inch, he didn’t get put but he also didn’t do much else. It was when you started to worry that there was something wrong. Even from that far back, you saw his arms shake, his eyes shut close, and his hand balled into fists. It became painfully obvious that there was something wrong.

The cheering and applause didn’t stop or got quieter. If anything, the volume only got louder. The crowd seemed to think that he was still thanking them, that he was overwhelmed with emotions, that he was exhausted after such a perfect performance.

He did the unthinkable, he managed to finish his performance flawlessly, lading jump, after jump, after jump. And he did, on the last performance of his career, at his last Olympics.

Jeonghan hadn’t announced it yet, but that was his last everything. After that day, he would leave behind his days in figure skating and would try to search for something else to do with his life. It was the last of him, ever, and he ended it on such a high note.

After more than a year of following him, talking to him, and understanding who Jeonghan was and what his stage persona was, you knew that it was not the emotions he was feeling. Although the man could be very humble at times, he wasn’t to that extent. He wouldn’t be on his knees for a full minute.

That’s when you saw coach run to the ice, two paramedics right behind him.

You rush down the bleachers, trying to see what’s happening on the ice while trying not to fall face first. The coach talked with Jeonghan, and whatever the older man said got a reply and Jeonghan shook his head. You didn’t know what he’s saying.

I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not in pain. I’m just tired.

Those are the words you wished he said, on just a collection of them

Vernon took the camera and did a run down of the crowd before turning it to Jeonghan, still on his knees. You didn’t know what to do. The two of them were right behind you, Vernon and Seungkwan, their footsteps way too loud for you to notice that the crowd had finally stopped cheering, finally noticing that the situation wasn’t as good as they first expected it to be.

Your eyes never really left Jeonghan. The only thought going through your mind at that moment was to get to him as fast as possible, to hold his hand. That simple action wouldn’t mean much, you knew that, and you would do it more for yourself than for him. But you liked to think that in such a moment, he would want you by his side.

The paramedics raised Jeonghan, his arms around their shoulders while they carried him out of the ring. One of his feet slides with ease, while he holds the other one up in a weird position, slightly tilted back.

That’s when you knew. The issue on his ankle. He took it too far with the performance and practices, landing on it time and time again.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around. You pressed your hand on the lens of Vernon’s camera pushing it until he finally lowered it.

“Stop filming, right now” it wasn’t a request, your voice wasn’t kind. It was an order, one you needed him to follow “From now on, nothing gets filmed”

Vernon looked confused, his eyes darting to Seungkwan, as if asking for help in a way.

“But it’s our job,” he said.

You shook your head.

“Our job, what we needed to film, ended the second he landed that jump. Now it’s not the time to record him”

Seungkwan understands what you’re saying, he too pressed a hand on Vernon’s camera, pushing it even further down, shaking his head and his friends looked at him worried.

You turned away from them, eyes immediately falling on Jeonghan.

For a moment you thought that they wouldn't let you through. Security had no idea of who you were. So why would they let a strange woman be anywhere near the athlete? But they did let you through. You didn’t know how, you didn't know why, but you also didn’t dare to question.

They just moved out of the way, making a path for you. You followed the coach back to the locker rooms, ignoring the fact that you shouldn’t be there, not in the male one anyway.

You finally reached Jeonghan. His face was pale, paler than usual, his lips were turning purple.

“Jeonghan” his name leaves your lips in a breath.

He reached a hand for you once the paramedics laid him down on a stretcher.

“Baby,” he said, voice barely above a whisper “I did it. Did you see it?”

You pushed his hair away from his forehead, surprised with his cold sweat.

“You did it, you were fantastic”

He smiled at you, his eyes not really focusing on you or on anything else.

“I think I broke something,” he said, voice low “I don’t know, it just hurts. A lot”

You looked at his coach, the man didn’t know either, but his eyes were focused on Jeonghan's ankle. Your eyes move to the paramedic, who as carefully as possible trying to remove his skates.

The doctor that accompanied Jeonghan since the surgery finally approached him. The man too looked as white as a candle.

Jeonghan had finally taken it too far.

“You cut your hair, '' you said, as you tucked your legs under your thighs, sitting comfortably on the fluff carpet in Jeonghan’s living room.

Seungkwan stood behind you and by his side was Vernon. It was the place where it all started, so it seemed fitting that it also ended there.

Jeonghan nodded, running his hand through the loose strands. You drummed your fingers over your thighs, thinking about how just a couple of hours before you were playing with his hair while he had his head on your belly because your stomach is being noisy and I want to sleep when you told him he could move, he just hugged your waist tighter rubbing his face on your skin nope.

“I thought it would be a good change” he pouted a little, unconsciously “I still need to get used to it.”

Why did you think it would be a good change?”

He narrowed his eyes for a second. He had that conversation with you before. For a moment he forgot that the version of you he talked with was his girlfriend, not the documentarist sitting in front of him.

“I started to grow my hair after the whole incident with the press” he made a dismissive gesture with his hand “I think I sort of wanted to hide from them and the hair helped a lot. In a way, I think a new haircut symbolizes a new start? You know, now that I’m no longer an athlete”

You nodded, smiling at him. It always took his breath away, your smile. He loved the way you had been constantly smiling around him, the frown that seemed to have a permanent stay between your eyebrows when you first met was nowhere in sight.

“How does it feel, being retired?”

“If you asked me that four years ago, I’d say that it sounded like my words nightmare. But now after so many injuries and surgeries, it felt like the timing was right. If you think about it, the way it ended for me was pretty epic”

Jeonghan matched your smile as the memories started to flood his mind. The way he almost blacked out due to the pain in his ankle, the way the crowd screamed so loudly and he refused to believe that it was because of him, at least not until Bumzu came back to his side, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“You fucking idiot of a human, you did it”

You had kissed his temple multiple times, telling him how brave he was, how strong he was. "Most people would have walked away before even getting on the rink” you had said later that night after all of you had finally gotten back from the hospital. Jeonghan was prohibited from using his foot and needed to have surgery once again after the worst part of the swelling subsided.

He remembers refusing to be taken away to get his ankle checked until he saw with his own eyes that he had won. He was carried out by Bumzu and Joshua despite the doctor’s cries that he should be taken to the hospital. You followed the three of them close behind.

Jeonghan smiled at the screen hanging from the roof. His name stood at the top of the list, in big letters, the number one attached to it.

As he stood on the podium, gold medal around his neck, Jeonghan saw you clamming and screaming, a huge smile on your face as tears ran down your cheeks. He had finally gotten his wish, to see you being as eloquent as possible, cheering for him.

“Most people would agree with you”

“I feel bad about making my family worry though. But they understand, I think”

His sister has screamed at him over the phone, angry that he asked them not to go watch him — mostly because he was scared to have them there while he failed — that he never told them about his injuries. But also happy for him. Truthfully he didn’t understand some of what she said, talking while crying was not her forte.

You looked back at Seungkwan over your shoulder and both of you nodded. Jeonghan watched as you closed the small notebook in your hands and put it aside.

“This is the last question of this documentary, so make your answer a good one, okay?” you said teasingly “Now that you can’t skate again, what are your plans for the future?”

Saying that Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to skate again was maybe a little exaggeration. Sure, there was no way he’d ever be able to compete again — nor did he wanted to —, but maybe after he was all healed he could do it again just for fun. That wasn’t something he was going to say directly at you. You had gotten worried after his new injury that even conversations about past competitions made you shiver, it had gotten so bad that you had nightmares about him getting hurt again and in those his end was never quite as good or epic as the one he actually got. So Jeonghan thought that it was for the best to not talk about it, at least for the time being while he still hadn’t been cleared by his doctor.

“With my career?” he bit his lip, truly thinking about it “For now, nothing. I’ve been competing for almost twenty years, in the rink for about 22 years, I think I deserve to stop and just not do anything for a while. In my personal life, I want to spend some time with my family, which is something that I always skipped because practice was just more important. I haven’t spent a birthday with them in years”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on you.

“I have a girlfriend, right. And she had this little notebook, I think she might be a little obsessed with notebooks and pens, and everything stationary related” he whispered the last part making you roll your eyes “She writes in those places she wants to go to. So, if I can convince her to take a few vacation days, I want to take her to those places”

“You suck,” you said.

“You didn’t seem to…”

Seungkwan took a step forward and blocked the view of the camera, his eyes wide.

“Okay, that’s a wrap everyone! Thank you!”

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certifiedfreec · 6 months

Text

・❥・close - gojo satoru x f!reader (crossposted on ao3!) ・❥・

⊹ oh nooo you’re trapped in a hotel room with gojo… and there’s only one bed… ahhhhh

⊹ 18+, smut, frenemies to lovers, a ridiculous amount of banter

⊹ word count: 9.8k (i’m so normal about him lol…)

“Well fuck.”

Mouth agape, you stand tiredly beside your overly cheeky partner-in-exorcises, surveying the last available hotel suite that’s closest to your current assignment. Cramped could describe it if you’re feeling generous, as the sparse amenities make the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room look like a California King. The overblown stock photos of generic flowers hanging haphazardly above the bed are nearly mocking the otherwise drab room, and the dim lighting makes it all look more dingy than romantic given the scenario you’re in.

One bed left in this overbooked “hotel…” This has to be a fever dream.

“I call the left side!”

Said partner, Satoru Gojo, is oblivious to your inner turmoil as he languidly steps into the room with his singsong tone, surveying what little it has to offer with an otherwise calm expression. God, this guy gets on your nerves, but not for any pertinent or extravagant reason. Really, he just carries himself a little too cockily for your taste, like he’s used to people fawning over him for doing nothing. While you work well together for the most part, there’s something about his presence that just makes you-

“You can take the whole thing,” you grumble dismissively, carefully moving around him to set your backpack down on the warped work desk. You’d sooner sleep in the bathtub even if it was soaking wet, you think.

Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets with how hard they roll when you hear him let out a feigned hum of disappointment. You can sense him studying your every move, even through that stupid blindfold thing he’s always got on.

“Bummer. You scared you’re gonna catch some cooties? I’m not contagious.” Gojo tuts playfully, shaking his black jacket off and tossing it over the back of the chair. “Guess that means more room for me!” He wastes wastes no time in flopping onto the middle of the stiff mattress with a grin, and part of you can’t help but admire- no, simply notice, you tell yourself- how his shockingly white hair and pale skin contrasts the dull, dated comforter. He’s got a white button down on, and you’re tempted to call him a bloodsucking vampire with how translucent he looks. Humming to himself, he reaches for the remote that practically shrinks in his large hands, clicking the clunky TV on and watching it take a few minutes to whir to life.

You’re unsure what to do with yourself, but you’re determined to put some space between the two of you with whatever happens. It’s unfortunate when you realize that you really might not be successful with that endeavor, given your dwarfed hotel room that could trigger any sane person’s claustrophobia. It didn’t help that this guy already took up most of the lackluster room with just his body, either. Your eyes flicker over to your work partner, who appears unnervingly okay with this turn of events. With a deep sigh, you pull out the creaky chair and slump defeatedly onto the desk. You’re careful to scoot to the edge of the chair so your back doesn’t make contact with his resting jacket, and he doesn’t miss your obvious attempt at distance. It’s known by many that he’s always been a huge fan of himself, and you’d be damned if you ever let him think you were part of that club, too.

“Hey, careful with the outerwear.” Gojo’s selectively ignoring your clear discomfort, opting to poke at you anyway because he just does that. “That’s a pricey jacket, y’know.” His face is serene as he’s clicking through the available channels and making his own little noises when each show is less intriguing than the next.

“Right… I’ll try my best,” you reply disinterestedly with a yawn. You rest your face on the cool wood- anything to mentally take yourself out of the painfully tiny space you and this massive human were expected to share for the evening. It’s been a long day of mundane yet necessary work, and apparently the real work is supposed to happen tomorrow. Being instructed last minute to change your stopping point for the day, you were left with no choice but to call around in a new area until you found an option. Gojo simply shrugged and started searching, not even slightly irritated at the change of plans. It irks you how little your colleague is bothered by, well, anything, because it has to be disingenuous at some point, right? Over time you’ve realized that with him, it truly is a brazen confidence- a kind that you decided was more dangerous than reassuring in reference to your line of work. It’s just unnatural- then again, nothing in your field is, so what’s your real issue with him? The question always leaves you befuddled at your core, and now it’s glaring in your face with the close quarters you’re sharing.

After some time spent listening to Gojo’s disjointed chuckles at whatever was playing, you take out your phone to text Shoko about your dreaded situation. This’ll be a long night, you think, grasping at straws to reason that it’s only temporary and that the smell of his spicy cologne will soon fade away from your senses. You have to say though, the scent fits him pretty well…unlike this miniature room you’re both posted up in.

Your eyes betray you when they briefly flit over again at the man lounging across the bed. It’s quite the spectacle, as the ends of his gangly legs and feet are dangling awkwardly over the edge, yet his expression is serene. The word "cute" passes through your mind and you immediately shush it by reflex, but it’s not as strong as the newfound proximity that prompts you to finally tease him in a dry tone: “Jesus, you’re taking up the whole thing and it’s still not enough.”

“Tell me about it.” He’s quick to react to your statement, and you swear you see his broad chest huff with amusement out of your peripheral. “It must be the price to pay when you’re a dreamy, charming, six foot three Jujutsu Sorcerer,” he adds in a lighthearted tone that seeks feigned sympathy. You’re not looking at him anymore, but you can guess that he’s batting the long white eyelashes that decorate his electric blue eyes. Meanwhile, you’re battling a smile.

Shoko’s not answering your SOS texts, so you actually decide to take the bait in the meantime. “You poor thing,” you coo halfheartedly, “It’s just never enough for you.” You shift, draping your arm over the back of the cheap desk chair that warps under your weight.

“You’re so right! I’m glad someone finally understands.” He points a finger at you, clearly pleased that you’re bantering along, and then he rests that same finger on his pointed chin. “Speaking of nothing ever being enough, I’m starving.” He suddenly sits up, making the bed creak with his movement. It’s apparent that his focus has shifted from the lifeless television show to you. “Who delivers around here?”

Gojo’s nonchalant behavior has the opposite effect on you- it’s disconcerting. At the same time, a very quiet part of you wants to warm up to the idea of finding it endearing. Being annoyed by him was all you knew- how could you ever change now?

The noise that escapes him is pure juvenile glee when you wordlessly open up a delivery app on your phone and sling the device over to him, which he catches with ease before scavenging through the limited number of nearby restaurants. If anything, you’ve never seen him so locked in. You hear him murmur his commentary to himself as he swipes through, picking out his order from his spot on the bed (which is basically the whole thing), and then he abruptly stands up with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. Without watching him, you hear his steps move somewhere behind your seat.

“Hey, your girlfriend Shoko is texting you. I had no idea I was such a hot subject! Well, maybe I did.”

Oh shit. The heart that previously resided in your chest has plummeted to your stomach. You completely forgot you’d been virtually begging her for moral support when you first arrived at your shoebox of a room.

You muster all your inner strength to maintain a semblance of cool. “Is she on her way to save me?”

The grin on his face is nearly glowing as he reads your screen. “Hah, you wish. It says, and I quote, ’Sorry I’m just now seeing these! How are you and your “Honored One” doing? I promise he’s not as bad as you think he is, LOL.’”

You can feel all the blood in your body rush to your face as Gojo continues to read the message, who is doing everything to refrain from bursting into a fit of laughter. “’At least he’s not the worst looking, and you guys are gonna have to share a bed anyway. Wink emoji, wink emoji.’”

Your world comes screeching to an ugly halt. In this moment, you remind yourself to never text Shoko while you’re in the same room as him- ever again.

“Oh my god… You’re lying. Stop it!” You feel a wave of sickeningly nervous giggles threaten to rack through your body as you fly out of your rickety seat, marching over to the lanky sorcerer and swiping at him for your phone. He tsks, holding the device up from your reach with a mischievous tilt of his head, and you’re sure that you’ve never been this flushed with humiliation before. His muscled arm holds your phone up revealing the chat, and unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. And his voice? It’s smug, obnoxiously so as he taunts you. “This is so much more interesting than ordering food right now. I think I’m gonna answer her. What should I say?”

“Give it back, Satoru Gojo.” You glower up at him, silently knowing your efforts are futile due to your drastic height difference- and that goddamn Infinity ability of his that he loved to show off.

“Oooh, don’t say my full name. It really scares me,” Gojo gasps mockingly before making a show of squinting up at the screen and beginning to type with his other hand. “Let’s try this.” His fingers begin to dance across the screen. “’Shoko, I think I might be falling for Satoru Gojo, all six foot three of him. We’ve had such a romantic evening-‘"

“Jesus Christ, hand it over already!” You’re reaching your limit with tolerating his antics, body teeming in some liminal space between annoyance and mortification. You stretch up again to try and pluck the phone only to make contact with nothing. Fucking showoff. He’s still got his blindfold on, and you’re unable to see how his eyes are completely shimmering with mirth and self-satisfaction.

“Aaand, sent! I think she’ll like that. Anyway, go ahead and add your order to the cart. It’s on me- I remembered to bring the JuJutsu High credit card this time!” Gojo carries on casually like he hasn’t just done the equivalent of planting an explosive in your text messages, feeling incredibly proud of himself as he plops the phone back into your open palm. Glaring up at him and his resilient grin, you are entirely uninterested in eating any kind of food right now. He thinks it’s kind of cute how quickly your face turns ruby red.

You stare at your violated device, blinking in disbelief before looking back up at him. “You’re a real motherfucker, you know that?” You challenge, though your voice isn’t as hostile as it should be.

His large hands fly up defensively. “Whoa, who says I don’t go for daughters either?”

He’s maddening. How do his students stand him? Your free palm has never moved so fast to your face. Resolving into your clunky self-assigned seat, your butt collides firmly with cold wood. “You’re right. Who don’t you go for?” You huff.

Gojo chuckles with his whole chest as he moves to sprawl out over the miniature bed, returning to the original position he was in before he hijacked your text conversation. With blindfolded eyes focused back on the hazy television screen, his hands lock behind his head as he shrugs indifferently. “Never been a big fan of Geminis, to be honest.”

Unreal. He could talk to you in circles like this forever, and only because he knows he gets under your skin that way. You resign, eyeing your phone screen and scrolling through the restaurant he picked to order delivery from. He’s got quite the spread in the cart, complete with an elaborate dessert that could’ve wiped out your savings account.

“Clearly a fan of cheesecake though, holy shit.” The jab doesn’t come out as mean as you intend it to, and honestly, you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be capable of treating him with this much animosity. You’re already tired, and if you were any more awake you’d realize that your work partner was slowly wearing your guard down, quip by cocky quip.

“Right again. Don’t you just love getting to know me through our intimate time together?”

Shoko is spamming you with an endless barrage of confused and shocked emojis, and you’re far too sleep-deprived to reply. Your entire body flushes at his words as they reverberate in your mind. Intimate is not the right word. No, it shouldn’t be, more like invasive. Right?

“Couldn’t be happier,” you reply curtly, mindlessly picking out whichever menu items are at the top before punching in the room number and credit card info, which was smoothly slid onto the table by Gojo without your prior notice. With your back to him, his gratification is on full display as he pretends to watch whatever crappy show is playing. Winning is his favorite thing in the world, and grating on your nerves is a close second- though really, the two coincide. Part of him wonders how much further he can blur that line.

——————————————————————————————————-

The comically large bag of food is immediately torn open by an eager Gojo the second it lands on the hotel room’s table, and he’s forking together a messy array of sides onto his plate before dragging over a lounge chair from the corner next to yours. He’s sitting far too close for your comfort, but you begrudgingly comply. It wasn’t like he was going to go away anytime soon, even though the night would be so much easier that way. As he shovels his dinner into his mouth, your mind aimlessly ventures as to how he keeps his form so trim with an appetite like that. He’s got to have a strict workout regimen somewhere, though “strict” is a word not often associated with him-

“Hey, your food’s gonna get cold if you keep staring like that.”

Your eyes widen in record time. It’s a hideous realization that you’ve zoned out on watching the renowned sorcerer-turned-temporary-roommate inhale his overpriced dinner, all from being overcome with either exhaustion or acceptance of your cramped situation. At this point, it’s maybe a little of both.

“Sorry,” you mumble, not even caring to articulate a more acidic response. It seems you’re beginning to neutralize into Gojo’s presence, and he mentally takes note of your changing chemistry with him as you quietly stab at your steak bites.

He’s got the perfect opportunity to coo something vain back, like “Don’t apologize, I’d stare too if it were me,” but he doesn’t. He simply keeps eating, sparing you with a less than uncomfortable silence. It’s never been the worst thing between you two given your extensive work history, and you feel yourself soften slightly when the bland hotel room’s air isn’t filled with his assumptive commentary for once. As your plates both get emptier, he feels this sudden need to hold your attention, as you’re less likely to be as combative as you’ve been before. You’re... not so set on hating him.

“You tired?”

Gojo’s two-worded inquiry jars you, almost to the point of choking on your bread. It's something genuine. He closes up one of the empty to-go boxes and shoves it into the takeout bag before pulling out the monstrosity that is his slice of cheesecake. For some reason your heart stammers at how refreshing the possibility of a real conversation with him could actually be.

You’ve got the perfect opportunity to snap something defensive back, like “Yeah, of you,” but you don’t. His shiny eyes shift under the fabric of his blindfold to you, almost prompting you to answer.

“…Yeah, I must be making it pretty obvious,” you say, unintentionally yawning and proving his point. If you were any more relaxed with him, he would’ve told you how cute you looked doing that. You secure your leftovers and start to chuck them into the bag before a large hand suddenly stops you with a “gimme” motion.

“Judging by how easily you’re willing to waste that perfectly good food…it’s not hard to tell,” he prods at you with a grin that you would’ve unnerved you earlier, but at this hour it’s a little more welcoming. Is that a snicker that comes out of you? You hand over the half-eaten order of steak bites to his jubilation, and he’s already popping open the lid to pick one up with his fingers.

Curse your brain in its exhausted state, because it’s nearly hypnotized by his digits. They’re long, dextile, confident somehow. They’re slender and defined, yet capable of serious damage- this you know all too well, and that excites you more than it should. The slice of meat dwarfs in his hold, its shiny reddish myoglobin starting to trickle down his hand and wrist, and it decorates his fine veins and tendons there with its sheen…

No, there’s no way you’re jealous of a piece of meat right now. Did you seriously feel a flutter somewhere that you shouldn’t? Satoru Gojo is literally eating your leftovers with his bare, grubby hands, and you’ve made the fatal error of finding it attractive. Yeah, you’re definitely sleeping in the bathtub tonight before your conflicted mind wanders any further.

He munches on the remainder of your dinner before finally digging into the cheesecake, and you feel blessed for the distraction from your shifting thoughts when you two chat about the mission at hand tomorrow. Is he worried about the curses you’ll be dealing with? No, of course not. According to him, he’s only worried about messing up his hair. Oh, and that expensive jacket you were careful not to touch earlier. With that all that added up, maybe he is nervous about it.

When the conversation dies down, the only sound in the unimpressive hotel room is the game show now playing on the practically vintage television. You quietly scroll your phone while your colleague digs into the soft dessert, stopping suddenly to stick his fork out to you.

“Want a bite? And before you say no, I already told you my cooties aren’t contagious.”

Is this real kindness? You whip your head to face him, studying the glob of caramel-drizzled sweetness, and he’s waving the fork around like a magic wand complete with some convincing “whoosh” sound effects. It’s even more comical with the way he fills his seat, almost like he’s sitting in a doll’s chair. The sight beside you makes you stifle a laugh, and in that moment you realize something: while he constantly irritates you, Satoru Gojo is the brightest, liveliest thing in that damn room. It’s not saying much given the plain wallpaper, dull sheets, and dusty furniture, but it all amounts to him looking pretty good despite your surroundings. If you weren’t sober right now, you’d admit that he looks pretty good just about anywhere. He’s so unfitting, literally, in the drab, cramped space that you almost want to let that very laugh out.

“Eh…I don’t believe you, but even if they weren’t... I couldn’t avoid them in this room anyway,” you joke sleepily, reaching for the fork and pushing the bite of cheesecake past your lips. He’s sitting pretty close, near enough that his spicy cologne still dances in your senses, but if he were any closer you’d swear you could spot him watching how your lips attached so tightly around the plastic silverware. You’re trying desperately to avoid the fact that sharing the fork was like indirectly kissing him, because if you think about it long enough it’ll make you blush all over again. So much for keeping a distance between you two.

You realize something else: he might’ve had a point with his dessert selection. “That is pretty good,” you commentate, handing him back the fork. There’s almost a soft expression on his blindfolded face when he wordlessly pushes the rest of the heaping slice between the two of you, as if the sugary dessert could substitute for a peace treaty. This is how all truces should go, you silently decide.

“Here, have some more in case you die tomorrow,” Gojo tuts with a grin, knowing fully well that you’d be perfectly fine during your assignment the next day. He loves to poke at you, but he can also recognize all the hard work you do. Hell, putting up with him was a full-time job, he could admit.

Your mouth flies open to let out a lighthearted “You asshole,” and you reflexively move to smack his shoulder. You’re even more shocked when your palm actually makes contact with the muscle there..as is he.

Gojo had turned his Infinity off. He must’ve gotten so caught up in wanting to break down your guard this evening that he neglected to remember his own.

“No way, I actually landed a hit on the Satoru Gojo,” you beam. Triumphantly taking another bite of the cheesecake, you feel his gaze train on you. His face-chiseled, you have to say- is conveying something unidentifiable. There’s some surprise and some amusement, but there’s another emotion lingering in the slight rise of his light eyebrows and his relaxed jaw. Something deeper, almost longing. It honestly concerns you for a moment, but he’s quick to recover by slumping backward over the chair, clutching a hand where yours landed just seconds before.

“Abuse! How dare you!” He declares, gripping his shoulder in the throes of his dramatics. “Yaga will be hearing about this. I’m reporting you to the higher-ups!”

“Don’t even. I’ll tell them you sabotaged my technology then,” you counter, waving your phone. “Oh, and that you misused company funds.” You point accusingly at the heap of cheesecake between you both. “And then we’ll both get fired.”

His fists hit the table as he falls forward dramatically. “Ugh…But then we’d end up living here,” he sighs woefully, “and that would be the worst part of all.”

You openly crack up at his refreshing honesty, finally recognizing this room for the shithole that it is, and you feel a newfound warmth spread throughout your chest. “Hmmm… But then we could keep ordering this cheesecake.” Maybe you like bantering with him, you decide.

Gojo chuckles as he stands up from his seat, dragging it back to where it resided in the corner and going along with your bit. “Not if we can’t ‘misuse our funds,’ you tattletale. We better start thinking of a side hustle to keep our lifestyle going.”

There’s a certain weight to “we”s and “our”s that make your heart palpitate just the slightest. It’s like a promise of a future together, a future beyond the uninspiring walls you were forced to rest in tonight. Still in your fit of tired giggles, you close up the remainder of the dessert before sticking it in the hotel room’s loud, antiquated mini fridge. The change of pace between you both is almost freeing, allowing you to consider the idea of actually sleeping somewhat soundly tonight.

“Well, you ponder on that. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You’re quick to tuck into the bathroom as your laughter dies down, taking your bag with you to switch into the pajamas you packed. All the while, you’re secretly wondering what the sleeping situation is going to look like. You know you’re desperate for rest and given how the evening between you two has warmed a little, the idea of sharing the tiny bed with Gojo is…less than awful to you now. You step out, only to gasp when said man is right outside the door. He’s leaning against the frame with his own bag slung over his shoulder, grinning wickedly and looking all too smug

“My turn, princess. Coming through!”

The novel nickname flutters through your system as he squeezes past you, closing the door in your face with another low chuckle. God, he’s an idiot, you think with a smile, opting to perch in the seat he used for dinner until he returns to the room.

You’re playing a mindless game on your phone when you hear the bathroom door squeak closed, and Gojo plops back into the stiff bed. There’s no shirt on his sculpted body, only a baggy pair of black pajama pants whose waistband barely kisses his narrow hips. Humbled is an understatement when you try not to ogle at the sorcerer before you, whose murder you were secretly plotting just hours before. The skin on your face is akin to the Sun’s surface as you summon every ounce of will not to stare, but his Six Eyes promptly detects the sheepish change in your demeanor.

“So, you sharing this thing with me or what?” He looks over at you in the chair as he stretches over the traverse of the mattress, head propped on one hand while the other toys with his blindfold. “Since you don’t seem to care about my cooties anymore.” The repeated movement of those long, deft fingers looping around the fabric is enough to conjure a flashback to him eating those damn steak bites, and you feel hot all over again. It shouldn’t be suggestive, it really shouldn’t, but the way he’s talking makes it seem like he wants you beside him.

You rest your chin in your hand as you reply with a frown, pretending to think, “Hmmm. That’s gonna be a tight fit.” He snorts in response, something devious but expected on the tip of his tongue, and you realize it as soon as you answer. “Don’t even say it, Gojo.”

He feigns surprise, scooting over and patting the pillow beside him. “Pffft. When have I been known to say anything out of pocket?” He can’t deny the thought of fitting tightly somewhere else, his aqua eyes flashing with a desire he’s never allowed himself to feel for a long time. “Listen princess, you’ve only got two choices for tonight, so pick wisely. There’s somewhere tight-“ he pats the pillow again, -“or somewhere wet.” The thumb previously tugging on the fabric around his eyes jabs toward the bathroom door.

There’s that nickname again. “How erotic,” you snicker, wordlessly complying and letting your exhaustion guide the way to the empty side of the bed. It’s not a ton of space, but you’ll do your best to make it work. Carefully, you slide in to avoid touching him, realizing just how difficult that task is going to be in your limited amount of territory. Should you make a pillow border between you two? No, because then that would take up even more precious space. Maybe if you bunched up some of your blanket-

“Alright! Wait till Shoko hears about this!”

Gojo visibly approves of your choice as he watches you timidly sidle in next to him, wearing that stupidly eager grin on his face and whooping like a sports game attendee. Shooting him a playful glare and an “Oh, enough with you, Six Eyes,” you feel the cool sheets hit your skin, and your body erupts in goosebumps through your thin-ish shirt and shorts. You quickly face the opposite way as him, but not before stealing another glance at his ridiculously toned chest and stomach as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off. God, he smells so good, like minty toothpaste and his cologne. Darkness abruptly envelops you as your heart pounds, and you have a horrible thought: Who said I wouldn’t be wet sleeping here?

You hear Gojo release a barely audible sigh, almost as if he’s tentative to fall asleep beside you too. He’s not sure who to trust less, you or himself, but he hides his apprehension with a couple more quips as you settle into the compact mattress.

“You have any idea how many people would pay to be where you are right now? You are so lucky.”

He could talk in circles with you again for hours if it meant prolonging the inevitable vulnerability that is unconsciousness beside another person- though a deeper part of him reasons there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe there are other things you could do instead of talk, he thinks, doing little to shake the idea away. It’s kind of nice, way more than nice, the image of you all spread out below him-

The eye roll you respond with is felt by him but not seen in the lightless room. Clouded by an atypical hunger and pure fatigue, you murmur back, “Don’t worry, I tip well,” and a smug smile forms on your face. It’s kind of fun getting to poke back at him. That’s all it is, right? Harmless banter. Gojo senses your intentions on a level unbeknownst to you, though- and he’s not entirely upset at them.

“Listen to you! That was smooth. I just might give you a discount for that.” You hear the sheets rustle beside you, and you slowly turn. He’s fully facing you, boyishly propping his head up on his fist with his near-glowing eyes now exposed. You notice that his blindfold has now been placed neatly on the outdated nightstand. He’s keenly tuned in on you, finding your pajamas a little too cute for a pre-mission night of sleep. It’s clearly getting more difficult for him to deny how entertained he is by the sight of you all snuggled in on your diminutive side of the crappy hotel bed.

You pretend to cover your eyes after seeing his finally revealed to you, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself for matching his energy now. “Put those LEDs away, good lord,” you joke, allowing yourself to let out a sleepy laugh as you pull up the covers to give your bumpy skin some salvation. His intentful gaze is already doing plenty to send heat throughout your limbs though, and the act of grabbing the blanket is an effort in vain. As your eyelids flutter with the weight of tiredness, you understand just how close you two are in the moment. Mentally, you were so much farther away earlier in the evening than you are now- and it takes a second for you to process that you actually like the change.

Gojo laughs softly, and you can hear the late hour begin to seep into his tone. It grows more throaty, lower than before, and it’s entirely too pleasant. Part of you wonders if he’d consider the proposition of reading you a bedtime story. There’s a lingering tension in the air, nearly tangible, and it shifts when you note how his eyes flicker all over your face. Eyes, lips, back to eyes, back to lips.

“Maybe I wanna look at you a little longer. Are you gonna report me to the higher-ups for that, too?” Gojo bats his icy white lashes, his oaky scent further settling into the sheets. The only light in the shoddy room comes from his vibrant irises, and they’re spotlighting on you with piqued interest. The light has always come from him, and it’s an epiphany that has you scooting an inch closer.

“If those things blind me, I will.” You exhale through your nose, partially wishing you could reach out to the heat that radiates off his halfway bare body.

He blinks, and you swear the room flashes dark again for that split second. “Well, y’know, that might be a good thing,” he tries to reason lightheartedly, in a volume just above a whisper. “You wouldn’t have to look at this ugly room anymore.” You watch his hand- the same one you nearly salivated over earlier- land in the limited space between you two, almost as if it wants to cross that border. It takes the most willpower you’ve ever needed not to stare at it, feeling your face flush with a sick anticipation. “I’d be saving you.” Maybe it’s what he’s always wanted to do all along, you both think, and it encourages you to be just as coy back.

In this moment, you feel bold enough to say something you thought would never leave your mouth: “But then I wouldn’t get to look at all six foot three of you.” You pout sarcastically, and Gojo gets the urge to kiss it right off your face. His grin is proud; it’s everything he never knew he wanted to hear.

Your teasing is like a silent permission for his hand to move closer to you, and your entire body stills when you feel it land gently on your lower thigh to play with the frilled hem of your shorts. Must be a pattern of his, you realize. He chuckles, and the sound is so low that you can practically feel it.

“Hmm… You’re right. Again.” Your work partner’s head tilts down slightly at you, and his expression is overcome with what can only be described as relief. “Guess I need to save you some other way.” He notices the goosebumps adorning your figure, and suddenly you’re pressed up against his broad chest. God, he’s so warm, you don’t even realize the way you’re curling right up into him. Somehow, despite your height difference, you fit perfectly along his lanky frame.

“Better?”

You are tired, fatigued beyond belief, but you’d be stupid not to stay awake to experience Satoru Gojo letting his guard down for you. Perhaps this dismal hotel room was a test of will for you two, and while you’re not entirely sure what denotes passing or failing, you do know one thing: Satoru Gojo is unbelievably comfortable to cuddle with.

Still…you wonder what would unfold if you pushed further.

“Hmmm… still not warm enough.” The words leave you before you can tame them, and the unspoken invitation behind them makes his eyebrows raise. The hand playing with the fabric of your shorts squeezes into your skin just the slightest, prompting you to look up at him where you see no reserves on his handsome (God, it’s good to admit that) face. His soft pink lips hover inches from your own, drawing closer like magnets.

“Really.” You feel a thumb rub slow circles along your outer thigh. “I can fix that for you, yeah?” His words shoot straight to your core as his head ducks a little lower, just breaths away from yours.

Well, you’re definitely not tired anymore.

“If you’re still offering that discount…” you breathe out. A rush of smugness allows you to bring your hands to his toned chest, traveling up to trace his defined collarbone. His skin is soft, almost velvety, most likely from years of keeping his perimeter so trained to avoid any unnecessary contact, and the act of smoothing your fingers over it becomes soothing.

Gojo’s lopsided grin conveys the desire he’s suppressed for so long, seemingly caught up in this new dynamic with you. “Nah, we’ll put it on the credit card,” he finally laughs before confidently pressing his lips to yours.

He is an entirely new taste, and you’re not able to reference his movements to anything or anyone; it’s another level of tact and precision. Did he plan this? His kisses are the perfect mix of messy and firm, and it’s clear he’s doing all but holding back. Something unlocks as he goes through the motions, maybe the realization of the snapped tension or maybe the feeling of you kissing back just as passionately, and his mouth soon scatters everywhere from your lips to your jaw to your neck in a flurry of teeth and tongue. He’s somehow magically in tune with your most sensitive areas of the exposed skin as his lips wander, leaving you to grab his firm bicep and cling as if he’s grounding you to the earth. The details of the dingy hotel room are completely abandoned as you feel your senses envelop, finally, with all that is Satoru Gojo, and there was truly no beauty greater than that.

Chest heaving, you almost let out a laugh at how rapidly the night has shifted. His well-trained hands travel, one squeezing the tissue of your breast over your thin shirt while the other dances just below the leg of your shorts. With all walls down, it’s pointless to hide the effect his touch has on you. If his hand moved any higher, he’d discover how wet you were- part of you dreaded how inflated his ego would become after that, but the other, hungrier part of you needed him to do it.

“Anyone ever told you-“ Gojo breathes out between his attack, brushing a thumb over your hardened nipple, “how pretty you are?” He is all too focused on drinking in your features, finding your weakest and favorite points. Your back arches ridiculously easily into his touch as you struggle to find the words to answer him.

“N-no one else that’s mattered.”

You’re sure his ego will balloon rapidly upon that little admission, but you partly didn’t care- not when he was capable of making you feel so unbelievably good.

He’s rightfully amused at how blatant your desire is now. “Oh? So I do matter to you then.” His other hand roams up your thigh, threatening to reach where you wanted it most. You snicker before a shudder erupts from you when a long, hot stripe is licked down your neck and over your shoulder, and it’s all you need to swing your leg over his, straddling him on the stiff, narrow mattress. The flex of his abs as he sits up to accommodate you is nothing short of poetic, and you find more prose in the clouded, desperate fog of his azure eyes when he watches you with curiosity. He immediately rests his grip on your waist, pressing you down gently onto what can only be described as a monster underneath his sweats. You understand now why he carries himself the way that he does: He’s fucking huge.

You push your chest against his, unable to stop the twitch of your hips when you feel Gojo’s hardness brush against your heat. The wetness of your arousal is sure to be felt through the fabric, and he’d be silly to halt your admittedly cute display of attempts in chasing just an ounce of pleasure. Your flushed face, furrowed eyebrows, small noises, it’s motion picture to him. However, he selfishly wants to be that pleasure for you, and he’s quick to slide a hand down your body to cup your pussy through your pajamas.

Your jaw goes slack as Gojo’s hand makes contact with your most sensitive area over your shorts, and the circles he rubs help him collect some of the condensation from the fabric. It feels good, but not good enough, and you can’t help but huff at the restricted movement. He is all too cocky when his hand pulls away, eyeing it with an intense mirth.

“Damn, waterworks, you always get this wet?” He’s half-amazed and half-amused as he studies his glistening fingers, his other hand gripping at your ass. “That’s so hot.”

“Shut up, Satoru.” You smack his bare shoulder before burying your face into it, feeling your cheeks turn crimson. He chuckles, finding you adorable when you’re embarrassed yet hating that you feel that way. He knows just how to help you get over that, and he starts by slowly sliding his body down, holding your thighs spread as he maneuvers his head onto the flat-ish pillow. You glare down confusedly at him in his newfound position, only to meet with eager cerulean eyes that are practically begging to pull you closer.

“Fine then, I’ve got other stuff I wanna do with my mouth anyway,” you hear him murmur from between your thighs, and his hand brushes over your clothed, throbbing cunt again. “Now sit, princess.”

“Huh? No, you won’t be able to breathe, I can’t.” Your head shakes vigorously in disapproval. Not that you didn’t want them there, but there was no way… you’d probably end up suffocating the guy, and while you had a more murderous urge to do that earlier this evening you’d much rather-

“Fine with me, now lemme taste you,” Gojo insists with almost a whine in his tone, not letting you respond before pulling the soaked crotch of your shorts to the side and licking a long, forceful line from your hole to your clit. You moan when he does it again, and again, feeling your knees weaken to finally sink yourself onto his mouth. The groan that vibrates against your nerve endings makes you look down, only to see his frosty white lashes flutter as you fill his senses. This was well worth the hours of wearing down your resolve this evening.

His movements become frantic, desperate to experience you now that he’s let his guard down this long with no dire consequences. You feel his tongue lap at your sensitive clit, and his lips kiss in your heat so loudly and wetly that it sounds like a porn scene. Your hands fly to his ivory hair, gripping till his scalp stings. This makes him groan again, and you can barely control the way your hips start to rock along his mouth.

Gojo breaks away for a split second, tongue dragging along your inner thigh with his cock nearly in pain because of he’s got you where he wants you. “Just like that, baby, ride my face,” he huffs quickly before returning to flattening his tongue along your clit. You feel him squeeze the cheeks of your ass, forcing you onto the hot muscle and encouraging you to continue.

He seems to be breathing just fine, you realize- which of course he is, he’s Satoru fucking Gojo- he could handle just about anything. It gives you the confidence to rut your hips forward, moaning louder when his lips wrap around your overstimulated nerve and suck hard. You earn a playful smack on your ass when his name slips out of your mouth, and the stinging sends you further into your frenzy for pleasure as you start to build up a pace. It’s addicting, really, the way he’s lapping and sucking at your aching cunt like it’s his favorite dessert, and you’re suddenly thankful that he has the appetite that he does. He breaks away for a second to spit into your heat, spreading your slick folds wide with those deft fingers of his, and that only has you rocking harder along his mouth when he reattaches himself. To him, you are so much better than any sweet he’s had.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you’re tugging Gojo’s snowy tresses in shallow efforts to further bury his face in your cunt as you ride it, and he’s all too happy that you’re using him in this way. As his tongue prods up into your tight entrance, he feels his cock throb again at the prospect of how it would feel inside of you. He groans at the thought, and you feel it all the way up in your ribcage. He’s already picked up on the fact that you’re close, judging by how your frantic movements have sped up and the way you’re babbling incoherent praises that only make him ache more.

“Fuck, Satoru, feels so- good- please…”

When Gojo lets out a little laugh at that, you feel your slick dribble messily down your thighs. That hot, blinding pressure grows stronger under your navel when you grind harder on his tongue, threatening to spill over when he starts to flick it along your clit to match your pace. It all feels so deliciously good that you pay no mind to his nails digging into your flesh, his own way of ensuring he’s leaving a mark- as if he hasn’t decorated your neck in shades of blotchy fuchsia already.

“I’m-so-close….”

He gives your ass another smack with your breathy cry, looking up at you with eyes that nearly beam. You look down while your hips continue to drag along his tongue, finding him just so damn pretty while he’s eating you so good, and you ease your fingers in his hair. That impending sensation grows stronger, and he quickly parts from your lips to murmur confidently:

“I know, princess, I got you. Lemme have it.”

His choice of words and the way he immediately goes back to lapping at your heat are both more than enough to have you coming apart around his tongue in mere seconds. There is nothing in your mind’s eye but Gojo as your high overtakes you, fizzling through your being and prompting you to cry out his name as if it’s a chant. He soaks it all in, helping you ride out your release before slowing to kiss his way back up your body. You’ve never come that hard- and somehow, he senses this too. Your legs feel like jelly when he’s finally face-to-face with you, and his is glistening with your arousal. If he wasn’t desperate to be inside of you right now he could do that for hours, he thinks.

You lean in, capturing your lips with Gojo’s and wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. Your own taste on your lips does little to dissuade you from him, and for the next few moments, you both feverishly rip off whatever clothing is still unfortunately on your bodies. He, as gracefully as he can given the annoyingly small hotel bed, maneuvers you onto the pillow so you’re lying on your back, and you feel his heavy cock hit your stomach. He pauses for a second to study your features, finding that every inch of you is worth burning to memory. You’re stunning like this, all sticky and flushed and needy, and it’s all because of his efforts. He’s only more gratified when your mouth flies open at his impressive size.

“You're kidding. That's not gonna fit,” You sputter, still in your post-orgasm daze, but you feel your hole clench around nothing when you notice the filmy drops of pre beading around his thick tip.

His laugh is genuine, almost melodic as he pumps himself a few times. “Such a downer. We’ll make it fit, ‘kay?” Gojo promises with a goofy grin, letting his hand wander along your bare nipples and stomach before eventually revisiting your now sore cunt. You hiss in delight when he slides one of his long fingers in, and your legs spread automatically at the intrusion. Even in the most cramped bed ever, you’d realize you’d make room for him anywhere. You reach out, dragging your hand along his chiseled stomach, nearly in awe at how firm the muscles are there. He’s like if art was living, breathing, unrestricted from a canvas or frame.

Your hand slides further, silently encouraging his own to move so you can take over stroking his hardened cock as his finger curls along your hot walls. You moan quietly, watching his breath hitch in his broad chest- he’s not sure whether to watch your face or your movements, and there’s an eagerness within him that amplifies when he sees how tightly you’re sucking in just a digit of his. His hips jut forward slightly when your thumb brushes his sensitive tip, and he finally decides to look into your eyes. You stare back, wanting to say so much about how his are the perfect shade of blue.

“Y’know why I harass you so much?” He asks in a tone that reaches a new level of softness for him, and you entertain his question as he slowly introduces a second finger. The stretch is delicious, though you think it’s doing little to prep for the monstrosity that awaits you.

“‘Cause you’re Satoru Gojo?” You reply before letting out a hiss at a particularly sensitive spot he hits within you.

He snorts. “Well, yeah, and ‘cause I think you’re pretty. Inside and out. Gorgeous, actually.”

You blush a little at how he turns a silly banter into a very real confession, and you watch his eyelids flutter again. Actually, you feel kind of bad for being so lighthearted while he was being serious- that was his thing, anyway. Times like these were what made his bluntness endearing, and he continues, beginning to align his length with your dripping entrance after slowly removing his fingers.

“So, lemme prove it.”

Feeling all kinds of giddy you nod, angling your thighs so his hips can fit between them. His spongy tip drags through your slick folds, and it’s the most you’ve ever felt another person focus so directly on you. You look up at him, bringing your hands up his stomach and to his defined shoulders as his tip sinks into you just the slightest.

“Well, you’re pretty too, like otherworldly handsome,” you admit back with a timid smile, clearly trying to regain your breath. “Just couldn’t tell you ‘cause you were too busy harassing me.” You exhale when he submerges himself a little more, and he smiles back with his pearly white teeth. “You’re fucking huge, too… oh my god…” you add, moaning a little at how his cock feels nothing like his fingers. You hate to admit it, but it’s clear he’s set to wreck you.

“Naturally.” He’s using every ounce of strength to control himself from pounding into you, responding to your praise and your criticism all at once. Gojo slowly and gently pushes in until his hips are flush with yours, and it feels as if he’s tearing you from the inside. Your face is scrunched at the intrusion, and he has to cover his own mouth to stop a moan at how tight you feel. There’s no other convincing needed by him that your pussy was practically made for him, he thinks, and he studies your features for any indication of stopping.

“Look at you,” he coos, nearly mesmerized by how your cunt has already swallowed him whole. His hand slides down his face to tweak at one of your hardened nipples. “And you said I wouldn’t fit. Takin’ it like a pro, princess.” His lighthearted motivation makes you snicker a little, and it eases some of the stinging from the stretch he’s causing. He gives you a few shallow thrusts, and his eyes practically roll to the back of his head when your hot walls grip around him. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, and when finally you do, you give him the silent go-ahead by softening your expression. His grin could blind a room full of people when he thrusts deeper, not only reaching that same sensitive spot but finding another, and it makes your head loll back to the pillow.

That reminds him. He pauses for a second to slide one of the cheap hotel pillows under your tailbone, and suddenly his cock feels like it’s colliding with your guts when he continues his movements. Your mouth couldn’t fall any more open as he starts to establish a pace, filling you so masterfully yet harshly with every stroke.

“Sa-to-ru…” you pant, digging your nails into Gojo’s sculpted back, and this only motivates him more. You have a realization that could either be horrible or amazing: How could you ever fuck anyone else again? Again and again he’s thrusting into that magical spot till the sounds of your wetness fill the otherwise lackluster room, spoiling you for any other and reassuring you that yes, he really is the strongest. Part of him knows how skilled he is, and he has to refrain from laughing- no one would ever be enough once he was done with you. Then again, he never wants to be done with you.

You feel his tactful hands roam your body aimlessly, a visible sign of his enrapture with how you receive him. He wants to focus on watching his cock slam into your cunt over and over, but he also wants to watch your face as you writhe and cry out his name- he’s clearly conflicted.

The little breathy noises slipping out of him aren’t helping your cause, and the way he abruptly throws one of your legs over his broad shoulder doesn’t either. He’s now rutting into your tight heat relentlessly, a stark contrast from how delicately he’s kissing up the thigh that’s pressed into his chest.

“Your pussy is...perfect,” you hear Gojo groan, drawing the words out, and his kisses along your thigh become animalistic as they turn into bites. You whimper, back arching with all the sensations filling your system, and that heady feeling in your tummy begins to strengthen again. “Wanna-fuck you- forever…”

“Please,” you agree as your ability to form sentences leaves you. “Don’t ever- stop…”

In a perfect world, he wouldn’t. As one hand holds your thigh to his chest and the other travels to your overstimulated clit, his shiny blue eyes watch your contorting face, smiling proudly when you moan at how his fingers rub tight circles along your nerves. He can feel his release approaching alongside yours, and your slick walls flutter around his cock as he pummels into you.

“Want another one, princess,” Gojo pants, making your skin smack against his as your orgasm builds up in your tummy. “Go on, come on- my cock…”

His wish is your command. You quickly lean forward, mashing your lips with his when the pleasure fizzles out of you all over again. You feel the tips of your toes burn at how powerfully your release hits you, wracking your body with an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure. You’re reduced to a heaving, shaking mess, convulsing around his length and left only able to babble his name against his mouth in your state of bliss. His hand cradles the back of your head as he fucks you through the aftershock and kisses you roughly, only to follow close behind just moments later. His movements falter before your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as you feel yourself start to fill with his thick seed.

Holy shit. Who would’ve guessed that this was how your evening would turn out? Just mere hours ago you wanted to claw at his throat, and instead you clawed at his back because of how good he was dicking you down. Your mind swims as Gojo slowly withdraws, slipping out of your sore cunt to collapse beside you in what little space the hotel bed offered. He’s even gorgeous like this, maybe more than ever actually. You’re observing how his ivory hair sticks to his forehead and his back glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat from his efforts, the muscles there decorated with thin red indents from your nails. It’s a sight worth recreating an infinite number of times.

Not having him envelop all your senses anymore forces you back into reality, where a mission lies just hours ahead of you and your shared hotel room isn’t any prettier. And unbelievably, those things don’t even matter anymore. All you can perceive and recognize in your afterglow is Satoru Gojo, who is already regaining his breath while you lie there like a fucked-out mess. Beautiful.

Gojo turns to face you, watching your chest rise and fall as you regulate yourself, and his delighted grin is all too perfect for someone who just obliterated you.

“So…you warm enough now?”

Your sticky body shifts to face him, vibrating with laughter as you answer “For now, yes…” and your head hits the pillow exhaustedly. That’s right- you were already tired before this “development” even happened.

His whole being is pure elation as he languidly drapes an arm over your bare figure. “Does that mean we get to do that again? I think she really likes me.” His hand brushes over your abused cunt, and your body flares at his touch yet again. It was a sick epiphany that he could destroy you and you’d still want more.

You snicker. “Yes, but she is super sore right now.” The sleepiness from earlier seeps into your brain, and you find yourself curling back into his lanky frame. He accepts you openly, resting a hand on your ass as he scoops you closer.

“I can kiss her better,” he pipes up quietly, already thinking of all the ways he could keep touching you. Even though you feel that droning buzz of want again, you tiredly shake your head, regretfully reminding him “Noooo, we’ve gotta get up in a few hours. Maybe after our mission.” You swear his eyes desaturate a shade before he sighs.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You’re gonna be tired and sore anyway.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“Nah.” Gojo moves to press a fresh batch of kisses all over your neck, and you shudder. He did have a point- you were already planning on shotgunning whatever energy drinks were in the dingy hotel lobby’s vending machine in the morning, as if they even had one. “I could go all night if you wanted, princess. Give you more of my cooties.”

You laugh freely, realizing he probably wasn’t exaggerating. It’s quite the offer from the one who just wrecked you so good- and you’d be silly to refuse despite your tiredness. You feeling your limbs tangle into each other’s, returning thoughts of the hazardous hotel drifting away once more, and your arousal slowly revisits you. What an incredible way to forget about your surroundings. You tug playfully on his icy tresses, you decide that this might be your new favorite kind of exhaustion. “As long as you don’t share your cooties with anyone else.”

Snickering, Gojo keenly zeroes on spreading your aching legs so he can see the aftermath from earlier, and he’s hardening again at the sight of his thick cum barely trickling out onto your thighs. With a mischievous smile, he assures you, “Never. This is just too pretty. Plus, you said you were gonna tip well.”

His hands trace you, and there’s not a more discernible indicator of your new bond with him than when you look down at his length, answering him in a familiarly cheeky tone, “Well, you already did.” He laughs, the warmest he's ever allowed himself, and it's certain he's keeping his promise.

Turns out, Shoko was right about him.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #mdni #jjk #jjk x you #satoru gojo

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kittenintheden · 7 months

Text

You Can Read Me Anything Part 2

*ELMO ON FIRE GIF* so that took longer than anticipated but you know. HERE YOU GO. (thank you for all the wonderful comments on Part 1)!

***

Druidic Tav grew up in a nomadic clan that recorded their history through spoken word and song rather than written text. As such, she's illiterate, and one charming-ish vampire offers to help her with reading lessons and a whole lot more. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course.

Then one night, she unwittingly brings him smut for their lesson.

Rating: E Word Count: 5100 words Content: illiterate Tav, Astarion being a shit, but also being cute, innocent Tav, suggestive dialogue, blood drinking, biting kink, first time oral, cunnilingus, fellatio, PIV sex, Astarion playing himself

AO3 Link

Astarion cradles her head, palm gently pressed to her cheek as she leans into it. She sighs and it tickles his ear, sending a dissipating wave of gooseflesh down the length of his back.

“Are you done yet?” Tav asks, voice breathy.

He hums and detaches from her neck, admiring the clean pair of fang marks he left there. His tongue swipes his bottom lip so he doesn’t waste a single drop of her blood. He releases her and takes a step back.

“You…” he says with a lazy smile as he reaches out with a finger to boop her nose. “... are so delicious.”

“Ha, ha,” she says with an affectionate eyeroll. She spreads her hand over the bite mark and calls on her connection to nature, using it to knit the flesh back together and restore her blood supply. “Glad to help.”

“I’ll bet you are,” he drawls at her with a wink. “Thank you for the appetizer. I’d best go find myself a full meal now.”

As he starts to saunter off deeper into the woods, Tav clicks her fingers and lightly bonks herself on the head. “Oh, almost forgot.” After him, she calls the Elvish phrase Shadowheart taught her.

For the first time since she met him at the site of the nautilus crash, she watches Astarion trip over his own feet.

He catches himself quickly, spine unusually straight as he puts his hands on his waist and takes a few more steps like he’d meant to do that the whole time. When he turns around to look at her, her smile fades when she notices his wide-eyed expression. The tips of his ears have gone very pink.

“Wha-” His voice cracks and he clears his throat and tries again, tone painfully casual. “What did you say?”

Tav grimaces. “Shit, did I get the middle part wrong? It was tricky when Shadowheart had me practice.”

Astarion leans forward a bit and gives a shaky laugh. “Ah. Right. I must’ve misunderstood. What were you trying to say?”

“She told me it meant, ‘I’m pleased to have provided you a good meal,’” Tav says, reaching up to pull some of her hair over her shoulder and fiddle with it.

“I see,” he says as he comes closer, his eyes searching her face. “Could you say it again? So I can correct your enunciation.”

“Oh, okay.” Tav gives a soft cough into her hand and repeats the phrase.

Astarion is close enough now that she sees his pupils dilate the tiniest bit. The flush at the tips of his ears spreads down the edges. Do they always do that after he feeds? They must.

He reaches delicate fingers up to cup her chin and draw her jaw down, parting her lips. His eyes are trained on her mouth and that makes her feel all too warm.

“Loosen your tongue,” he says softly. “Once more.”

She tries one more time and watches his eyelids flutter, inches from her own.

“There we go,” he whispers.

His gaze shifts to her neck again and he leans down toward it. She nearly stops him, but then she feels the draw of his tongue over the spot where he bit. He punctuates it with a soft, barely-perceptible press of his lips. A kiss, she might think, if she were a silly little girl. Which she certainly is not.

Then he’s standing straight again, releasing her face and putting space between them.

“Missed a smudge. Can’t let it go to waste.” His eyes rove over her face. “It’s so very precious.”

Then he walks off and she’s left standing there, cheeks hot and chest uncomfortably tight. Tav continues to run her fingers nervously through her hair as she turns and walks back toward their camp.

Astarion counts out fifty paces before he ducks behind a tree and leans his back heavily against it, letting out a shivery breath. He puts his cool fingers to his ears and tries to rub the heat out of them.

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Stop it, stop it.”

---

Near the crumbling wreckage of a stone alter, Shadowheart kneels in prayer seeking guidance and direction from her Lady. The darkness, the loss, the silence… they are vast and answerless. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. Clenches her right hand, glancing at the ever-present wound there.

If only she could remember… anything useful. No matter. For now, it’s whatever path will take her back to Baldur’s Gate.

She gathers her components and packs them away, standing to walk back down the path toward camp. There’s a trio of crumbling walls that clearly used to be some sort of holy building and she walks along one, trailing her fingers over the soft moss overgrowth.

Then she turns round the corner of the broken temple to find a bristling, broody vampire leaned up against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at her with a tic in his jaw. He raises an accusatory finger.

"You," he says, the word hard on his tongue. "Are an arsehole."

She gives him a smug smile and arches her brow. "You're a bigger arsehole."

He refolds his arm and narrows his eyes at her. “Really think you’re clever, don’t you.”

The cleric shrugs and cuts off to the side to walk back to the path. “The goal was to make you lose your cool. Seems like it worked.”

Silently and suddenly he’s walking at her side, lip curling in disdain. “Congratulations to you, you managed to annoy me. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, he’s testy tonight,” she says, putting a hand to her cheek in a mockery of shock. “Maybe you’d feel less the fool if you hadn’t been teaching her to talk dirty.”

“We can’t all be ice queens, dear,” he sneers. “Some of us are queens with needs.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes and her entire head along with it. “You should be thanking me, then. I gave you your opening.”

Astarion stops and she keeps on walking.

“To what?” he says.

“To have your ‘needs’ met,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’m not the one who was teaching her to invite me betwixt her thighs. Have a frustrating night.”

Astarion makes an affronted noise after her, pouts a moment, and then calls back, “Your bangs are wretched, by the way.”

She throws a rude gesture up at him and continues onward.

---

He plots and flirts for three days straight before he decides to make his move. Tav’s guard is down, her shy little moments are increasing in frequency, and he can literally hear her heartbeat quicken when he’s near. If that’s not all signs pointing to yes, he doesn’t know what is.

All he has to do is, you know. Make the move. Which he’ll do. Soon.

Because she still makes the most sense. The others all adore her, listen to her. She’s the perfect choice of protector should his vampirism prove a problem to anyone. She’ll say yes. Of course she’ll say yes.

… of course she’ll say yes. No one denies him. It doesn’t happen.

… it rarely happens. Not as if he’d care if it did, this time.

Astarion rocks his weight onto his back leg, flicking his gaze up to see Tav kneeling near the campfire and giving the dog a generous belly rub. Before she stops, he goes back to his extremely casual reading. Standing posed outside his tent. Holding a book with the title facing out. Very normal.

After what feels like an hour, his ears pick up approaching footsteps and he skims the page he’s on, waiting.

“Is that a new one?” Tav asks timidly.

He closes the book and looks up to meet her. His close-lipped smile feels almost natural. Almost.

“There you are,” he says, dropping his register a fraction. “I was just thinking about you.”

Not a lie, actually.

She tucks her hair behind one ear. “Oh? Do I owe you something?”

He laughs and sets his book aside. “Only a bit of your time. I do enjoy it so very much.”

Tav quirks her mouth up on one side. “Yeah? You’re pretty okay, too.”

“Better than okay, I should hope.” He closely examines his thumbnail. “I’m… growing to enjoy the whole package, honestly.”

She doesn’t immediately respond and he chances a look up at her.

“Deer in the magicked light” is what one might call the expression on her face. She blinks rapidly and gives her head a small shake before she looks to the side, color rising prettily in her cheeks.

“Is that so?” she says, giving a tight laugh.

His smile starts to go a little toothy and he dials it back. “I’ve been thinking an awful lot about our last reading lessons,” he lilts at her, peering up through his lashes. “And our language lessons. I’ve been pondering over what other sorts of lessons I could offer.”

Tav’s cheeks go pink to red.

He leans in to speak softly, making her lean in closer to be able to hear him. “I like you,” he says. “And I think you like me, too. So?”

“So, what?” she blurts, immediately grimacing at her own outburst.

A giggle bubbles up out of him before he can stop it and he puts a hand up in front of his mouth to hide his smile. When he regains control, he lowers his hand. “So, I thought you might like to indulge in certain curiosities with me.”

I want to go down on you.

Astarion blinks the thought away as soon as it appears in his head, briefly letting his smile slip before he snatches it back.

Tav is blushing furiously, but she leans in closer to him nonetheless to whisper, “Like what, exactly?”

Elvish, rising like the language of his dreams: I want to drink of your fountain.

He gives his head a light shake, playing it off with a mirthful huff as he says lowly, “Like sex, sweet thing. Whatever kind you might be… interested in.”

Tav nods rapidly and hums, slowly leaning back and standing at her full height again, not quite meeting his eye. “I was pretty sure that’s what you meant, but you know. Better safe than sorry? Is that a thing people say?”

Astarion reaches out to gently guide her chin toward him until she’s looking at him. “Think about it. If you’re amicable, you’ll find me later at the clearing where you last offered me a bite after the others are asleep.” He chucks her under the chin. “I’ll be waiting.”

She nods once more, expression unchanged. “Yeah. Yep. Okay. I’m going to… see you later. Maybe.” Then she turns on her heel and walks away.

“See you later,” he says. “Lover.”

When she disappears into the dark, he blows out a breath, subtly shaking his hands out. That was a yes.

Right?

“Of course it was,” he snipes at his own brain.

---

Hours later, Astarion paces the moonlit clearing, fiddling with the cuffed sleeve of his shirt. The others must be asleep by now. He pulls at the sleeve. It feels too tight.

Should he take the shirt off? He should just take the shirt off.

He does.

Astarion glances around the clearing once more, noting the blanket he spread on the ground nearby. Not a bed, but you know. He’s okay with that, actually.

He clenches and unclenches his fists, rolling his hands at the wrists. Cracking his neck. Rolling out his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be still. Controlled. Practiced. This is an act he’s performed thousands of times. This is no different.

It’s not.

She’s going to come out of those bushes any moment and-

The bushes he’s looking at actually rustle and he jumps, whispering “oh, shit” before he can stop himself. He manages to put a smile back on his face just as the leaves part and a small doe takes two hops into the clearing and freezes when it spots him.

Astarion doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. The doe relaxes very slightly, flicking an ear.

It’s one of the little black-tailed deer native to the area. He’s made a meal of more than one of them in recent days. Her coat is smooth and healthy, her eyes brown and clear.

The doe blinks at him and takes a step closer.

He gives a relieved chuckle and says, “There you are, Tav.”

“Oh, you heard me? Damn,” says a voice from behind him.

“Ah-” he yells. He tries to cut off the sound, but it’s too late. The doe spooks and bounds off into the underbrush once again.

“Apologies,” he says, regaining his composure and rolling his eyes to the stars above. “She was such a pretty little thing that I assumed it was you.” He starts to turn. “But I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost and…” He finally sets eyes on her and loses his smile immediately. “... and you’re already naked.”

Tav stands before him without a stitch on, her long hair hanging over her rounded breasts and everything from the waist down on full display. He spots her clothing and staff in a neat stack nearby. Her whole body is flushed.

Astarion swallows. He’s seen untold numbers of people in states of full undress. This is routine. She caught him off-guard, is all.

“I… was I not supposed to be?” Tav says, hands going up to run nervously through her draping hair. “Sorry, I thought… you said sex? And then I saw that you had your shirt off, so…”

He holds up a hand and ticks up his brows. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine! I like it.” He finds the mask, the posture, like muscle memory. Slips back into the person in control. “You’re just full of surprises, beautiful.”

Tav rewards him with a bashful smile, continuing to comb her hands through her hair.

Astarion huffs a laugh. He can’t help himself. He approaches her with slow, intentional steps. “I had a whole catalog of poetic nothings to whisper in your ear, but looks like I needn’t bother, which is fine by me.” He stops in front of her, smiling his charmer’s smile. “So long as you still want to be tasted.”

He’s starting to notice it’s a good sign when the apples of her cheeks turn red. She nods. “I’d like to try the tongue thing, yes, please.”

“Good,” he purrs, reaching for her hips.

He pulls her in for a sweet, well-executed stage kiss. Most people needed about that much before they got to what they were really with him for. He pulls back and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

Tav looks into his eyes, her lips parted. She’s not moving, and oh gods, he’s going to have to lead completely, isn’t he? Ah well. Such is life.

But then she tucks her chin, her gaze going heated. The pupils of her eyes flicker, changing shape ever so slightly, and Astarion hardly has time to drop his pretender’s smile and ask before she surges forward and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.

Astarion gives a surprised “mmmn!” as he stumbles slightly under her vigor, but he corrects quickly, wrapping his arms around her ribcage and lifting her against his body. Her tongue runs along his mouth and she’s nipping, nipping, and-

There’s a sharp sting on his bottom lip and he releases her right as she pulls back from him, hands to her mouth and eyes wide as saucers. He reaches up to touch his lip and when he looks at his fingers, they show a smeared drop of blood. He blinks down at it, astounded.

He feels a snap deep inside him as the monster in him, the hunter, stirs at the sight and scent of blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Tav says, dropping her hands. “It’s a druid thing, we can get a little wild, I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Astarion licks at the cut on his lip and stares at her face, his breath heavy and his shoulders ever so slightly hunched. He can see the smallest bit of his blood at the corner of her mouth.

“Do it again,” he says with a voice like gravel as he scoops her bodily up and goes to his knees so he can set her on the ground.

He lays his body on top of hers and she gasps as his mouth covers hers, exploring and hungry. It doesn’t take long for her to return it in kind, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care when she’s making it look like.

Murkily, his brain reminds him why he’s actually here.

Astarion forces himself away from her mouth and she whines at him, a sound far more animalistic than humanoid, but he doesn’t stop trailing his lips down her body until he gets to her hips. He rolls himself up onto his knees and runs his palms up the tops of her legs from knee to thigh, coaxing them open so he can position himself between.

He looks at her face to find her gaze far less “startled doe” and far more “she-wolf in heat.” Her tongue darts out, licking her lip before she says, “People really like to do this?” Then, “You like to do this?”

Astarion positively grins, his pointed teeth showing through.

"Yes. Though it’s a pity this is your first experience," he says through his feral smile. "Because no one will ever best what I'm about to do to you."

“O-okay,” she stammers, clutching her fists close to her sides.

He purrs deep in his throat and puts his mouth to the inside of her knee, the tip of his tongue tracing a sensual line down her thigh, toward her center. He holds her eye the entire time and delights when her leg twitches.

When he nears the crease of her hip, he gives her a sharp nip and she growls at him, bucking her hips. He runs his tongue up along the crease until he reaches her hipbone, to which he gives a firm suck. As she attempts to roll her hips toward him, he spreads a palm over her hips and applies pressure to hold her down.

“Shall we check to see how you’ve kept your garden?” he says, looking at her from under his brows as he speaks.

In response, Tav giggles and slaps a hand over her mouth. Then nods.

She drops her hand to the ground and shakes her head, murmuring, “It can’t be that different, I’m sure it’s just like…” She shudders in a breath. “... just like…”

Astarion parts his lips and huffs out his breath against the slick skin at her core, already shining with want and anticipation. The sensation is a warming one.

Tav continues muttering to herself. “Books are full of all kinds of nonsense, I’m sure it’s-”

He flicks his tongue right over her clit.

“Ah,” she yelps, trying to buck her hips again. He doesn’t let her.

But he does flick again.

“Wha-” she says, thighs jerking on either side of Astarion’s head. “Why is-”

Astarion presses the flat of his tongue firmly at her entrance and draws it slowly all the way to the hood, teasing with the tip before he curls his tongue in slightly and dips back down to better open her inner labia.

“Holy hells,” Tav groans out, her chest arching up and the hands clawing the ground at either side of her growing actual claws.

He gives her another lap before pulling back to smolder at her. “And here I’ve only just started,” he says, voice silky.

“Holy hells,” Tav shouts to the sky this time.

Astarion huffs a laugh against her and goes back down, playing her with highly practiced skill. Full, long licks paired alongside firm draws over the swelling pearl at her center. She continues to buck ever now and again, but mostly she’s gone near boneless above him, head lolling lazily to either side and fingers weakly gripping the grass on either side of her.

When her breathing begins to stutter and he feels the flutter of her getting close, he finally moves his hand from her belly back down until he can get the angle right. He places the tips of his two middle fingers at her entrance so he doesn’t surprise her and glances up to see her eyes flutter open. She stares down at him from between the mounds of her breasts, pupils blown wide.

She licks her bottom lip.

She nods.

Astarion slides his fingers inside her and begins to pump in time with the movements of his mouth. Tav goes wild, both literally and figuratively. The pupils of the eyes watching him go slitted like a cat’s, gradually dilating back as her teeth go sharp and a random patterning of fur shivers down the length of her body before turning back to skin.

He takes that as a good sign and curls his fingers inside of her until he finds what he’s looking for.

Tav bark-mewl-roar-calls into the air above the clearing, her hips grinding into his mouth and hand now that she can move them again.

“Why does that…” she gasps. “Feel… so… good?” The last word comes out a growl.

He’d answer, but his mouth is preoccupied and he dare not let it leave its task.

With his free hand, he pushes her thigh up and guides it higher until she can wrap her leg round his shoulders and he can go deeper. He feels the swell of her under his tongue, going harder beneath his touch, and he begins to trace circles around it as he continues to pump his fingers into her.

Tav’s entire body rolls, trying to get closer, to get more, to get-

She howls as the tension finally snaps. Literally howls, from the very bottom of her chest.

Astarion slows but doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck her through it as he feels her release in the palm of his hand. He’s gentle, taking a touch of pity on her as he gives her a few more soft licks before he leaves her, drawing his fingers from her at the same time. They’re a mess, as is his face. He sits back on his knees and looks her over with lidded eyes, a self-satisfied half-grin on his face. Then he reaches into his pocket to produce a soft cloth to clean up.

He’s not much of a planner, but he plans enough for things like this.

Tav lolls on the ground, her body fully returned back to humanoid form. All except her pupils, which continue to occasionally flicker across the animal kingdom.

“Oh, that was good,” Astarion says, brows raised and grin on his face as he wipes his hand down. “Even for me, that was good. You’re welcome.”

She throws one arm out to her side, then the other, and slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, trying to focus on him. “Why doesn’t… everybody do that? Oh my gods.” She flops back onto the ground.

Oh, she’s very good for his pride. He gives a pleased wiggle.

“You tell me,” he says. “Or call upon your old lovers and ask.”

Tav weakly waves her hand through the air. “They were bad. I’ve realized. Just now. They were bad at sex.”

“Poor thing,” Astarion croons. “All better now.”

“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side and sits up. Shakes out her head. And starts to crawl toward him.

He instinctively leans back as she comes closer, breasts swaying as she moves. “What are you doing?” he says.

She blinks at him. “I’m going to do it back.”

He blinks at her. “What?”

Tav draws her knees closer and matches his kneeling posture. “I’m going to put my mouth on you back.” She waits a beat. “If you want me to.”

“Uh,” Astarion breathes before he shakes himself and gets his wits back about him. “I would like that very much,” he says. He tries to purr it, but slightly lower in pitch is the best he can do.

It’s been years since he’s been with anyone who even bothered to ask. Probably decades.

Tav beams at him, a bright smile that’s so sunshiny it nearly betrays what they’ve just done. She rolls up onto her knees and pulls him by the wrists to do the same so she can reach the laces that hold his trousers on. His arousal pulses near her hands.

Astarion blinks. He’s… more into this than he usually is.

He blinks again.

He’s very into it, actually.

His fingers go to join hers and together they make quick work of his pants and underthings. Gently, she guides him back to kneeling again as she curls forward. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches out so he can hold her hair up out of her face. She’s at eye level with his cock, inspecting it with the eye of someone all too familiar with all the things nature has to offer and completely unashamed for it.

Astarion swallows back the wanting sound that tries to claw its way out of him.

“Have you done this before?” he asks softly.

Tav peers up at him from her position below and bends her legs at the knees, kicking her feet slowly through the air. She shakes her head “no” and something frozen inside him melts. Best ignore that. That’s a future-him problem.

“You are adorable,” he breathes. He finds he means it in the affectionate way rather than the condescending one, which is alarming. That’s another future-him problem.

Astarion clears his throat. “Same general practice applies here, really,” he says lightly.

Tav licks her lips and reaches out to touch him. Her fingers on him give him a little jolt to the solar plexus and he curls toward her on instinct before he catches himself.

“Tell me if there’s something I could do better,” she says, simply.

Then she licks along the underside of his cock and puffs her breath out across it, much in the same way he did to her.

He curls in toward her again and tightens the hand in her hair.

She puts her mouth over the head of him and he’s enveloped in warmth and oh, yes, he remembers this. This feels good. This feels very good.

Tav doesn’t get down very far before she backs up again. When she pulls off, he reaches a hand down to cup her jaw and draw it down, parting her lips.

“Loosen your tongue,” he whispers. “Once more.”

She does. She descends on him again, relaxing her jaw and loosening her tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper with each pass. Astarion means to watch and guide her, he does, but instead his head lolls back, eyes falling closed, and he smiles. A real smile.

It feels so bloody good. It feels good and he doesn’t have to… he can just be…

Tav hums a little with him mostly inside her mouth and he gasps from it, blinking back to the surface.

Oh, that’s too good.

He lets her go a few seconds more before he tightens the fingers in her hair once more to still her and gently guide her back. His chest heaves as her mouth leaves him, a string of saliva connecting them, and Astarion shudders forward.

“What’s wrong?” Tav asks, her eyes wide and concerned.

She can’t look at him like that. That’s not fair.

He lifts her beneath her arms and pulls her up toward him, her face to his, and kisses her again. She happily responds, catching his lower lip between hers and nipping once more.

Astarion groans.

Hands on her face, he breaks their kiss and tries to collect his scattered thoughts. It’s all hazed over with want. There was a reason for this, they were supposed to… he was supposed to…

“Why don’t we…” He loses the thought and swallows. Tries again. “Let’s find our mutual…”

Words, words, words, where are his words?

Astarion hisses through his teeth. “Oh, just… sex. Let’s have sex.”

“Oh,” Tav breathes, lips swollen and cheeks ruddy. “Okay.”

Whatever he had planned, which was not much, goes completely sideways as she simply climbs up onto his lap, reaches between them, and holds him steady so she can sink down onto him.

He’s so wholly unprepared for the suddenness and initiative of it that his eyes nearly roll back in his head before his mind catches up and he grips her hip with his hand, guiding her as he rolls up to meet her, his hips rhythmic, until their hips meet and he bottoms out.

Tav throws her arms around his shoulders and immediately begins to rock against him, her eyes closed and her joyous grin on her face. Astarion is doing his absolute best not to completely lose himself in her heat, her closeness, her scent.

Her pulse, oh, gods.

Astarion rocks himself up into her with steady rolls of his hips, tilting in to press his open lips to her neck with a moan.

“You can,” she gasps as she rides him. “You can bite, if you want.”

He’s not sure if the words he makes are language, but he does know he’s biting her and her blood washes over his tongue and he drinks lazily, sipping as he fucks into her at the same time. His mind is so unbelievably, blissfully bare of anything except how good, how hot, how much, how full, how winding winding winding-

Astarion pulls off her neck with a gasp almost on the edge of his orgasm. Automatically, he reaches between them and uses all the wiles of a skilled lockpick to send her spiraling over her ledge a second time before he furrows his brow, slams his eyes shut, and yells out as he climaxes, his spend spilling where he’s still buried deep.

“Oh, fuck,” he blurts before he can stop himself, nearly collapsing onto his side with Tav along for the ride. He slips out of her on the way down and immediately feels the mess they’ve just made.

Another future-him problem.

Tav casts a very half-hearted create water spell that at least rinses them off. She drapes herself over his chest, dopey smile plastered on her face. “You win,” she says. “I see what all the fuss is about now.”

“I bet you do,” he says breathily.

He’s grateful she’s not looking at his face as he struggles to hide the worry pulling at his expression. It’s future-him time, and future-him is having a moment.

He just had the best sex he can remember having in… that he can remember. With someone who will still be alive in the morning. And he likes her.

Oh, hells.

He likes her.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #bg3 #kitten writes #lol idk I'm so sleepy please enjoy

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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to be in Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, and now you finally get to find out. (Spoiler: It’s even better than you could have ever imagined.)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K+

Warnings: so much smut with a side of fluff (Minors DNI)

(This is a 2-Part series for the “Like I Can” Universe. However, it can be read on its own!) Read Part 1 here!

“Well, are you coming?”

You are two lace trimmed bits of cotton away from being naked, and you can feel his heated gaze traveling over your body as you walk towards his stairs with a teasing sway of your hips.

If you had known you were going to end your night shimmying down your little red dress in front of Bradley, you might have tried to wear something a bit more underneath it, just for him.

But there was no missing the intensity and the desire that was in his eyes as he had watched you strip before him. It was more than clear that liked what he saw.

The appreciative way Bradley was looking at you made your everyday underwear feel sexier than La Perla ever could.

You don’t get very far before your whole world tilts as you’re lifted off the ground and tossed over his broad shoulder.

“Oh my god, Bradley! Warn a girl.” The sound coming out of you part gasp, part laugh.

“Heads up, kid.” There is no missing the smug smile in his voice, as he grips you a little tighter.

You’re dangling behind him trying to support yourself on his lower back, a useless endeavor since every step he takes up the stairs only serves to make you lose your grasp.

“Are you sure you got a strong enough hold on my ass there, Bradshaw?” you complain flippantly.

You wiggle a little trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your stomach.

“Stop trying to distract me,” he grunts, digging his fingertips further into the fleshy muscle in a way you didn’t mind at all. “I’m carrying some precious cargo.”

He tops off the end of his sentence with a light swat of his hand on your other cheek like he would a cherry on a sundae. And you have to bite your lip to keep from making the noise that was trying to crawl it’s way out of your throat, one that would give away just how much you liked his strong hands on your ass.

Bradley stops at the first door on the left and bends a little as he eases you off his shoulder. You lean back against the wall watching self-indulgently as he straightens up in front of you.

There is nothing subtle about Bradley Bradshaw. Not the commanding way he enters a room. Not the force of his energetic smile. Not the powerful build of his body. And definitely not the way he is checking you out.

It’s your first time being up here, there’s never been a reason to come upstairs before. You can’t help but wonder if the spaces here have the same sense of functional practicality as his downstairs does. Everything has a purpose, but nothing has much of a personality.

And Bradley has the best personality.

Maybe if you ask nicely he will let you help him pick out some things to make his place feel more like a home. More like him.

Reaching out you thread a finger through one of his belt loops and tug him closer to you. Bradley grins as he comes to crowd you against the wall before leaning in to kiss you, his warm hands coming up to frame your face.

For the other men you’ve dated in the past, kissing was a means to an end. A mandatory part of foreplay to perform in order to speed things along. But with Bradley, he kisses you with a type of single-minded determinedness that always sends your heart racing.

He has never been the type to do anything half-heartedly. Kissing is the agenda. It is the main course. He is happy to take his time to savor the taste and feel of you. He’s not thinking about how quickly he can move on to the next thing. He kisses you like he couldn’t dream of doing anything else.

You have never felt so entirely treasured in your life as you do right now outside of his bedroom in his arms.

It’s hard to fight back the smile that makes it impossible for him to keep his lips on yours, and when he pulls back the look on his face is nothing short than pure fondness.

“I’m excited to have you like this,” you admit to him, soft and sure.

It would be a new first, a new moment, a new memory. His and yours alone.

“Yeah?” he asks with a gentle smile quirked to one side. “I am too.” He settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs skimming over the skin at right above the waistband of your panties. “We go at your speed, sweet girl. As much or as little as you want. Whatever you want is what I want too.”

“And if I want everything?”

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises, pulling you close to get his mouth on yours again. You could taste the unspoken always in his kiss.

There was still a small part of you that was nervous about what feelings could come up in the after, the worry that bittersweet what-ifs could color all of your perfect memories with him. But you were done with not letting yourself have everything you want with him.

And with one more indulgent kiss to his lips, you take his hand and lead the way into his bedroom.

Bradley lingers near the door as he watches you take in his bedroom. One could call it snooping, but he knew you’d have some other smart-assed term for it.

He had been able to tell that something was on your mind for a while. And the last thing he wanted to do was put pressure on this new thing between the two of you by making you talk about it before you were ready.

You had always been in his life, but when you moved to San Diego after living separate lives for over fifteen years, he couldn’t deny that it felt different being around you again. In a good way, in the best way.

And those terrible dates you went on had made him come to terms with his feelings much earlier than you. Bradley knew exactly what he wanted with you, and he would give you all the time you needed to get there too.

He is amused, but not surprised, when the first thing you do is go to investigate is his bookshelf. Your fingers skimming the spines as you read over the titles.

It’s mainly a collection of NATOPS manuals he’s memorized inside and out from the aircrafts he’s been trained to use and other technical handbooks, along with his old collection of the Hardy Boys, a few political biographies and mystery novels he hasn’t had the chance to read yet.

He had felt like such an idiot when he made that joke about sleeping with the enemy in your car on the way to the surprise movie date you had planned for him. He hadn’t missed the way your body had tensed up. Or how you would always pull back and stumble over some flimsy reason why you had to call it a night when things would get on the exciting side of too heated or too physical.

He knew that you would come around to telling him what was holding you back on your own time, he just didn’t expect it to be after you had come in his lap from rubbing yourself on him in that sinful dress of yours.

The one that taunted and tempted him from the second he had opened his door that night. The one now a heap somewhere on the floor of his living room.

“So why do men love bitches, Bradley?” The question shakes him from his musings.

You turn to him with a mischievous smile painted on your pretty face as you gleefully show off the book that he had completely forgotten about like you have hit the jackpot.

“How do I still have that?” He huffs a laugh crossing towards you, leaning on hip on his desk to get a closer look. “Nat give it to me after I broke up with my ex a few years ago, they never got along. She even drew some red flags on the paper she wrapped it in when she gave it to me.”

“Ah, that explains the inscription. ‘Know the playbook, so you don’t get played again.’” you read with a snort. “For what it’s worth, I never liked Paige either. She was always seemed like such a shit-stirrer. Good thing you came to your senses. He’s pretty and smart, folks.” You send him a playful little wink before you go back to your investigation of his room.

It’s not even a contest, you are his absolute favorite person in this world.

And you look so perfect, so real in your nude bra and white panties in his bedroom. He likes that this wasn’t planned, that he gets to have you so authentically. He wants you just as you are.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he can’t help but wonder a little self-consciously what his space must look like to you through your eyes as you wander around.

His room is a mismatched collection of furniture that people have passed along to him over the years. Stuff that others didn’t need or that they upgraded from to something newer and better. Everything else that wasn’t donated to him were easily assembled things from IKEA.

He didn’t mind it in here, but he’s also never particularly liked it. It’s always just been a place to sleep.

He has his sturdy wood bed frame against one wall, it creaks sometimes when he turns over but he that’s what he got for putting it together after a few of beers. There is large print hung above it so the wall wasn’t totally bare. Next to his bookcase was a desk and small filing cabinet. He has a spare room in his condo that he has been meaning to turn into an office, but this set up was familiar to him after so many years of living in the barracks.

But if you were going to be here with him, Bradley wanted you to be comfortable in his home. Maybe he could find a few new things for the room to make it nicer, cozier for you with stuff that wasn’t other peoples’ cast offs.

There was only one nightstand for fuck’s sake, which is where he watches you linger in front of now.

“Wait, Bradley. Is this…” you trail off, picking up the framed sheet music from his nightstand. Your finger traces over the upper righthand corner in the exact spot where he knows three vibrant blazing fireballs decorate the page.

Hand-drawn by a ten-year-old you.

They were overly cartoonish in the way that most kids’ drawings were at that age. But it was obvious you had spent time on it for him by the way the reds, oranges, and yellows of your colored penciled artwork had been perfectly blended.

“Yeah.” He has to clear his throat, “Yeah, it is.”

“I can’t believe you still have this,” you say quietly.

You had given him the book of sheet music that included his favorite crowd-pleasing song to play on the piano for his twelfth birthday. He had had the notes memorized for almost a decade before he had put it in a frame, he had wanted to have this reminder of home with him instead of sitting in a box somewhere.

Other than the mounted toy fighter jet his mom had given him, it was the only thing that he had always taken with him as he moved around the world from base to base.

He thought he had seen every expression that’s ever crossed your face, but you have never looked at him like quite like this before. Your face is filled with such tenderness and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Well, you know what Marie Kondo says about things that sparks joy,” he jokes light-heartedly, trying to find his footing again.

“Is there anything else in here that sparks joy in here?” You put the frame back down, observing him with your head tilted to the side as you sat on his bed and leaned back on your hands. It did amazing things to your chest.

“I can think of one or two things,” he says, playing along. You look so perfect in his bed, it was going to feel too big without you in it now.

“Are you going to come join me? Or do you just want to keep on checking out my breasts from over there?” you ask teasingly, pushing yourself back further on top of his bed. Your feet are resting on the edge, knees knocked together swaying enticingly from side to side.

You are easily the prettiest thing in his room.

Bradley takes his time as he saunters over to come join you at the bed. But when he comes to stand at the edge of the mattress, you stop him with a dainty foot to his chest.

“That’s bold of you to assume you this is a clothing permitted establishment,” you say popping up onto your elbows, applying a bit more force to where you’re pressing into him.

“Is that so?” he hums. Wrapping his hand around your ankle, he lets his thumb circle over the rounded joint there. “You know you’re in my room, in my bed, right?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m very aware. I like how it smells like you in here.” He watches as your hand makes indistinguishable shapes on the top of his linen duvet, “I’ve got to say, I’m pretty sure I’ve the best view in the house right now.”

He rakes his eyes over your figure, “Hm, think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

“You might be right,” you tell him cheekily, “My view could be so much better if you’d take some clothes off.”

“You sayin’ you want a show, kid?”

“I wouldn’t say no to one, if you are offering,” you say stretching like a satisfied cat. And there are those dimples of yours. If only you knew how just how gone he was for them.

“I can give you a show.” His voice is whiskey smooth as he squeezes your ankle.

Bradley holds your hot, greedy gaze as he removes his watch and sets it down on the nightstand. The way he undoes the buttons on his shirt could almost be called lazy if it weren’t for the purposeful way he watched your every shallow breath, as he listened to your unsteady exhales.

He has to tap on your foot to remind you to lift it off of his chest so that he can take his shirt off. You rest that foot high on his thigh instead, dangerously close to his quickly hardening cock. And then he is tugging his shirt off and tossing it somewhere behind him.

The fabric of his comforter is clenched tight beneath your fists.

Reaching behind his neck he grasps the collar of his tank, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion making sure that his biceps and abs are flexed for your benefit. If you wanted something to look at, he was going to give you an eyeful.

He lets out a satisfied sound as lets his hand indulgently, leisurely trail down his chest, down his abdomen as he watches you steadily. There is no reason for him to hold back his proud smirk when sees the way your lips part as he reaches the top of his jeans.

“How am I doing?” he drawls knowingly.

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he languidly unbuckles his belt.

“Good. Yeah, very good.” He sees the way you swallow hard as he begins to pull it out from his belt loops. The thick tension building between the two of you has his pulse pounding.

He likes the desire he sees reflected in your eyes as you take him in, “I’d leave you at least four-stars on Yelp.”

Bradley lets his belt fall to the floor, it lands with a satisfying clunk. Your eyes fly to his at the sound.

“Mm, only four-stars? Such a tough critic,” he muses lightly as he casually runs his finger up and down your calf. “What’s a guy gotta do to get five?”

You’re devouring him with your eyes and he wants to take over the way you’re nibbling on your lower lip with his teeth. “Drop the denim, Bradshaw.”

“You’re right, it’s only fair,” he concedes, admiring the way your nipples are raised against the cups of your bra. He teases a finger under the black elastic band that is peeking out from over the top of his favorite jeans, “I’m telling you now that what’s under these isn’t anywhere as pretty as what you’ve got on.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much,” you say as primly as possible given how affected you are, pressing your foot harder into the muscle of his thigh. “Plus, I think you’re plenty pretty.”

God, he loves that he gets to have you like this.

That even when you’re both half naked and riled up you can still banter with each other. That he can still make you smile and you can still make him laugh all while the undercurrent of need pulses around you.

“Bradley, come on.” The hint of whine that accompanies the way you say his name goes straight to his cock. He wouldn’t mind hearing you beg sweetly for him sometime, but not tonight.

He was going to give you whatever you wanted.

“Patience, sweet girl. I’m putting on a show here, remember?” he tells you with a playful grin as he bends over your body to kiss you deeply. Your legs part for him and come up to hug his hips. When he pulls away after a few moments you move to sit up, chasing the feeling of his mouth on yours. But he puts a hand to your sternum pressing you back down onto his bed with his fingertips before standing up to his full height above you.

The silence in the room is deafening as he unbuttons the top of his jeans. And then he is slowly pulling his zipper down for you.

Your heart is hammering as Bradley peels off those form-fitting jeans of his strong legs.

His body is a work of art. You could stare for hours and still find something new to admire. From the rounded definition of his shoulders, the smattering of chest hair between his full pectorals, the ridges and valleys of his abs, to the v-shaped muscles that lead your eyes directly to the outline of his hard, thick cock that you’re getting an up-close look at for the first time.

It looks as good as the rest of him does.

“Good god,” you groan, covering your eyes. “Honestly, Bradley?” The sound of his deep, warm chuckle has you pulling your hands away from your face, he is clearly amused by your reaction. “Be serious with me right now, that is totally how you got your callsign, isn’t it?” Gesturing to his sizable cock with a wave of your hand.

“I’ve told you that story before,” he tells you as he climbs on the bed and settles next to you.

“You’ve told me a story, but I’ve never believed it.” You turn on your side to fully face him, throwing one of your legs over him as nonchalantly as possible, as if it was totally normal to be half-naked in his bed with him. “‘I was just the only morning person on my squad’,” you say lowering your voice mimic his, “I don’t buy it. Not to mention, Natasha always made a face whenever you told that version to someone who was flirting with you.”

“Fine, you really wanna know?” he asks as he squeezes your hip. His cheeks are already lightly flushed, and now you’re downright giddy about this new development. It’s not often you get to see him so bashful around you.

“I knew you were withholding important information from me, Rooster,” you trill.

He grunts something unintelligible before he has you gasping when he grips your thigh and rolls over, pinning you underneath him.

And oh. You like the feel of him pressed against you.

There is something comforting about the weight of his hard, sunkissed body as he relaxes more fully on you. It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was built but the sheer sturdiness of him and how he fits with you like this is so good it’s dizzying.

He really is so handsome. With his face this close to yours, you can see every shade of brown in his pretty eyes. You bring a hand up to his face, letting your fingers brush over the coarse hairs of his mustache.

“Don’t think that just because you manhandled me, that you’re off the hook here. I’m not so easily distracted.” It’s a lie, but you think you pull it off well.

“Ok, ok,” he relents, kissing your fingertips then guiding your hand around to the base of his neck. “There are usually two versions of the story that pilots will tell, the one that makes them look good and the one that actually happened. But most pilots get their callsign from doing something stupid or screwing something up.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” you say with a teasing grin. “Which category do you fall in?”

“Believe it or not, both,” he admits ruefully. A small boyish smile on his face.

“Oh, I believe it,” you beamed.

“So,” he continues, with a fond shake of his head, “There was a girl I used to hook up with in my squadron. We had a friends with benefits type thing for a while when we were first deployed.” That made you scrunch you nose, he chuckles leaning in to kiss your cheek. “But she was always, uh, loud. Especially when I would go down on her.” He says that last part in a rush, almost like he is trying to gloss over it.

It wasn’t a secret to you that Bradley had gotten around, you had heard the whispers when you visited him at UVA and in the bathroom at the Hard Deck when you had first moved here. And it wasn’t like you had been sitting on your couch knitting like some Jane Austen spinster, you have had your fun too.

“Mmm-hmm.” You stroke his leg with your foot encouraging him to continue.

He is entirely adorable in the way he full-blown blushing now as he tries so hard not to fidget, even as his fingers idly play with the strap of your bra.

“We were fooling around early one morning after she has stayed over. Which I am sure you can guess, that kind of socializing was very much frowned upon,” he allows with a sheepish dip of his head. “As it turned out, one of the Petty Officers decided to do a surprise barracks inspection that morning. And, uh, well, we didn’t hear his arrival and the announcement or any of the noise in the hallway-”

“Because you’re good with your mouth,” you gleefully interject.

“You said it not me, kid,” he says nudging your cheek with his nose. You are grinning so wide now because he is getting so flustered as his story goes on. “So fast forward to us getting caught in the act. They let her run back to her own barrack, but I had to stand there at attention for the whole inspection in my boxer briefs with a hard-on.

The mental image of that was equal parts amusing and appealing, especially after the show he just gave you.

“And since my clothes were still on the ground from the night before, I got an auto-fail for having gear adrift. They even called in some of the guys from my unit to double check the inspection results and make an example out of my, um, indiscretion. After that, well, Rooster stuck.”

“I knew it!” you hoot before bursting into a fit of laughter. “I knew there had to be an X-rated reason, you dirty bird. Oh my god, Bradley! No wonder why Nat can’t keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chuckles good-naturedly, his eyes crinkling in the corner. “There you have it, that’s the whole story. And just so you know, it is literally on the record that I was an early riser when I got written up for it. So technically that part is true.”

“In more ways than one,” you titter with a lewd wiggle of your eyebrows.

He looks up to the ceiling and groans, “How long are you going to tease me about this, kid?”

You make a big show about doing the math in your head until he nips at your collarbone.

“Probably for as long as you’ve had your callsign, I’ve got a few years to catch up on. It’s only fair since you lied to me, your best friend, for so long. I’m wounded,” you lament unconvincingly.

“I had an image as a responsible adult to maintain.” That makes you snort as you wrap both of your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you.

You half-heartedly roll your eyes, “I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Mm, that makes you the baby here,” he hums against your neck. “Wasn’t gonna give you the full version back then, not when you had such impressionable ears.”

His body is so warm, so solid against yours. And his thigh is pressing into the center of you. You’re surprised how quickly he can go from making you laugh to making you squirm.

“You know what I don’t get?” you muse tugging on his curls.

He runs mustache along your neck, “Enlighten me.”

“Why would they punish you when they could have just made you pose for the cover of a Navy pamphlet? Seems a little shortsighted, if you ask me,” you quip, a bit breathlessly. “I mean, they’d be turning down new recruits left and right. Everyone would be so inspired to serve their country. Propaganda with a side of eye candy.”

Bradley pinches your waist, making you yelp and rock against him. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. The mood shifting instantly from playful into something else entirely.

“You like what you see, huh?” He shifts his weight into his arms, lifting up a bit. Not only do you have a stellar view of his abs now, but also of his defined biceps by your head.

“Are you fishing for compliments, Rooster?” You glide your fingers along the crests of his ribs.

“I don’t mind getting my ego stroked every now and then.”

“What about other things?” you murmur, sliding your hand in between your bodies to grasp him through his boxer briefs.

He groans your name before claiming your mouth for a hot kiss.

“Come on, Bradley. I want the full experience,” you pant against his lips, “I heard how the girls talked about you.”

“I’ve learned a few more things since then,” he rasps, grinding himself more fully against you.

“Good, I’d hope so. Now, show me.”

Show me. Show me. Show me.

He can’t keep his mouth or hands in one place for too long. He wants to taste you everywhere. He wants to touch you everywhere.

You are looking at him with such open want. Your pupils blown wide, your lips kiss-swollen. He was unprepared for just how perfect your body would feel under his. You’re so beautiful spread out before him on his bed. Green might be his favorite color on you, he was biased, but you looked stunning pillowed against his navy duvet.

He had told you he’d give you anything you wanted and he meant it. If you wanted the full experience then he was going to give you the best damn time of your life.

Bradley licks his lips before lowering his head back down for a kiss, moaning at the slide of your wet, soft lips against his. He loves the sound your needy whine as you cant your hips against him.

You tilt your neck to the side giving him more room to get his mouth on the delicate column of your throat. The smell of your perfume and shampoo makes his blood thrum in his veins. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this desperate for someone in his life as he is for you.

He slips his hand around your ribcage and under you, groaning when your breasts rub against his chest as you arch into him. He runs his fingers along the band of your bra feeling for the little clasps that are preventing you from being bared before him.

After the third pass he makes, you pull away from his mouth with a little grin, “Bradley, it’s a front clasp”. Taking pity on him you guide his hand to the shiny little closure resting in the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles self-deprecatingly toying with it for a second before asking, “You mean to tell me this is both pretty and functional?”

Your giggle turns into a whimper when he flicks it open and pulls it off of you. Tossing it somewhere to be discovered later.

And then his is finally, finally getting to see you in the way he’s spent many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock imagining.

“How are you so soft everywhere?” he murmurs tracing a finger down your bare sternum. He rubs his mustache over the sensitive tips of your pebbled nipples before claiming one with his mouth.

Your hands fly to his hair as he sucks and teases this newly uncovered part of you. He moans as you start grinding against him in earnest before switching over to the other, his hand coming up to cup and squeeze the taut bud that was wet and shiny from his mouth.

The sounds you are making are nothing like he has ever heard from you before. And he can’t wait to spend hours with your body learning all the things that make you whimper and whine and sigh.

With one more flick of his tongue against your nipple, he trails hungry kisses down your neck. He stops once to admire the little freckle high on your right ribcage before continuing his way down your body. He likes how easily your legs fall open for him as he settles himself at the center of you. At how much trust you are handing over to him.

“You still doing good, sweet girl?” he asks into the crease of your thigh.

“So, so good,” you exhale roughly. One of your hands is skimming along the skin of his shoulders, your delicate finger stroking over the scar there. “Five-stars, Bradley. Easily.”

“Mm, you sure I deserve that? Haven’t done anything to earn it,” he hums, teasing kisses along the lace edge of your white panties. “Haven’t even made you come yet.”

“Bradley.”

“Can I take these off and make you come with my mouth?” He slides a finger under the elastic band. “Can I earn that five-stars?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod rapidly, “I want that.”

Bradley slides his thumbs under the sides of your perfectly practical panties and starts to pull the last of your clothing off. He’s dreamt about you naked and on display for him, he is eager to discover every freckle, every mole, every scar on you.

You are almost revealed to him when he stops. His eyes snag on a spot on the inside of your right hipbone. A tattoo.

The tattoo.

He remembers the night at the Hard Deck when he had learned about its existence with picture perfect clarity.

Fanboy had been showing off the fresh ink on his forearm for the full sleeve he was in the process of getting, which had then turned into display of skin as his friends pulled up and rolled up their clothes to share their own. It was probably for the best that he had an aversion to needles or else he probably could have ended up with some misspelled Latin phrase like Payback had along his forearm.

Just as Hangman had finished tugging his shirt back down, he had turned towards you at the tall stool you were sitting on and asked, “What about you, darlin’? Anything to share with the class?”

There was gleam in his eye that Bradley had not appreciated in the slightest. Especially since he had made it perfectly clear that his best friend was off limits to the group of cocky aviators.

You had only relocated to San Diego a couple of months ago, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed living in the same area as you. And you were already fitting in with everyone like you’d been there for years.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” you shrugged taking a sip of your drink while he nearly choked on his.

“What? No, you don’t,” he asserted as he elbowed Hangman out of the spot he was leaning on next to you.

“Uh, yeah, I definitely do.”

He didn’t get why you were looking at him like he had a second head. You were his best friend, that’s something that definitely would have come up in conversation at some point if you did have one. Right?

“I’ve never seen one on you,” he’d said adamantly.

He eyes quickly traveled over your body, you were in some laidback loose-fitting jeans with rips in them and a creamy colored knit tank top, as he looked for any hint of ink on your skin.

“Well, you wouldn’t,” you said like the reason should be completely obvious to him.

You kicked out at him in annoyance. He caught your foot easily with his hand, and gave it a quick, sharp tug in warning. Smirking at you when you gasped and scrambled to hold onto the stool, “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not for the viewing public, Rooster,” you huffed at him.

“Sounds like there’s a story here,” Nat interrupted, looking on with keen eyes.

Yanking your leg out of his hand, you went on to tell the story about how you had gotten it done one drunken night at a house party your junior year of college. A “silly, girly thing” was all you’d had to say about it.

“Sounds like you’re lucky you didn’t get hepatitis or a staph infection,” he grumbled. You took the beer out of his hand in retribution and claimed it as your own, while throwing him the middle finger as you took a swig. And he’d let you.

“If it makes you feel better, bird boy, the guy who gave it to me now works at a pretty popular tattoo shop in New York.”

It hadn’t and he never forgot about it.

There had been more than one occasion where he had caught himself looking at you a bit too closely in a swimsuit from behind his aviators at the beach trying to get a glimpse of it.

And now he finally knew.

His fingertips are drawn to the fine, dainty lines of the ink on your skin. The pair of delicate butterflies were placed discreetly on your lower pelvis. One looked like it was in mid-flight with its wings spread wide, while the other was waiting to take off and join it.

“These are pretty, they suit you,” he murmurs leaning in to touch his lips to them. “Definitely not for the viewing public.”

“Just you, Bradley,” you agreed, setting your hands on top of his where on your hips. And together you both work off that last bit of fabric off your body.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t know how I got so lucky, sweet girl.” He kisses your pretty tattoo once more, then the spot below your bellybutton, the top of your pubic bone.

“You said you’d give me your mouth,” you whisper eagerly, your fingers carding through his hair. He loves the way your nails felt against his scalp.

“Whatever you want.” A reminder of the promise he had made to you in the hallway, before he even had you in his bed.

He inches himself even closer to your body, getting one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you to his hungry eyes. This part of you, just like your butterflies, was for his eyes and fingers and mouth alone.

He parts you with his tongue enjoying your little whimper and gives you a couple slow licks as he gets acquainted with your taste. He wants to savor you like a fine wine, to identify all the individual notes that made up the essence of you.

You’re already so wet for him.

And then he is exploring your pretty pussy with unrestrained enthusiasm. Using his tongue and lips to get you squirming before introducing his fingers. Your moans are better than any kind of music as he starts rubbing your clit with gentle precision.

His chest fills with smoky coils of masculine satisfaction as you prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him as he works you with mouth. He holds your intense gaze when he slips one of his fingers inside the silky center of you.

Bradley can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches your jaw drops in pleasure as you start to lose yourself to his mouth, “Tell me what you like.”

You’re so responsive to his touch. Your knee is trembling on his shoulder as he tries out long, smooth strokes and short, curling thrusts of his fingers determined to learn what makes your toes curl.

“I’ve never—,” you start before stopping, shaking your head.

“Never what, sweet girl?” he repeats, patiently looking up at you from between your legs. He is still circling your clit with his thumb as you work to find your words.

“I’ve never been able to come this way,” you confess like it’s something you’re embarrassed about. “But it feels really good. I just don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying this with you when I can’t get there.”

The burst of red-hot irritation that hits him like truck for all the men who have failed you in the past makes his jaw clench. Men who would prioritize their pleasure over yours.

He knows he is capable of getting you there. He wants to show you, to prove to you just exactly how capable he is about giving you the pleasure you deserve. It’s what he would give you every single time.

“Can I try?” Bradley waits until you nod your head yes, still propped up watching him. He places a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks for trusting him with this. “Tell me what makes you feel good,” he coaxes, “Tell me what you need from me.”

He’s tempted to suck hard enough to leave an indelible mark at the delicate skin of your perfect thigh. He wants you think about being back in his bed with him, when you’re at your apartment in your own bed. He just nips at the spot instead, before kissing it again.

“Can I give you another finger?” he asks.

“Please.” You whimper when runs his thumbnail across your clit before he gives you another one of his fingers.

“So polite,” he teases as he gets his mouth back on you. “I’ll give it to you right.” You clench against his fingers as they sweep against your front wall.

He is so hard, but all he can think about is how good you feel under his hands, under his mouth.

He is watching your face for every expression. He wants to know which motion of his fingers makes your breath catch in your throat. He wants to know what kind of touch makes your eyebrow pinch together and gasp.

Yes. There. More. Just like that.

It doesn’t take him long to get you writhing and keening for him as explores your body as you tell him exactly what you like.

“That, Bradley, that. Don’t stop, please.”

Your pupils are blown wide as you watch him tease his tongue against your clit with a pressure so gentle it makes your whole body shiver. He moans his contentment against your slick-shined center when you reach out to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek with your hand when he finds that spongey spot inside of you.

Your head falls back and you convulse spectacularly as you come with his tongue on you and his fingers in you.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises low and rough, “So fucking pretty when you come.”

Bradley hopes you can feel his grin against the soft skin of your thigh.

He lets you bask in the warm glow of your orgasm, all while his thumb keeps making the softest of circles against you, “Think you can do it again?”

Your heart is still beating erratically in your chest as you attempt to come down from your orgasm. You still can’t believe he made you come with his mouth in the first place, let alone that he thinks he can get you there again.

And when he puts his hot mouth back on you, your arms give out and you fall back against his soft duvet, “Fuck, Bradley, oh my god.” The feel of his mustache against that sensitive part of you was overwhelming.

Bradley works you like he is trying to erase the memory of any man before him.

The only other sound in the room besides your breathy panting was the wet sounds your body was making as his fingers curled and thrust in and out of you. You’d be embarrassed by it if was anyone else other than Bradley.

Because he is the one making you feel this good.

The coiling sensation in your stomach was tightening with every lick and suck and flick of the tongue he used to bring you closer to the edge. You savored the burn in your hip flexors as his thick forearms held you open for his talented mouth.

“Sorry,” you gasp, unable to control the way your hips roll against his mouth.

“Don’t be. Do it again,” he rasps, gripping your thigh harder, “Use my mouth.”

He hums in satisfaction when you do it again, this time on purpose at his command. The vibrations against your clit reverberate through your whole body as you rock against his mouth and ride his fingers.

The woodsy smell of his bed, the sound of his voice and dirty praise, the feel of his body on yours was building you up much quicker than before. Your hands were fluttering everywhere. In his hair. On your breasts. Tangling in his sheets.

You are hyperaware of his every touch and it has you feeling high strung. You’re there teetering having been built up so stunningly. Your body is pulled taut like piano wires with unreleased pleasure that you just can’t seem to reach.

One of his warm, comforting hands soothes up and down the side of your waist as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

“C’mon, kid. You’re there, I can feel it,” he says pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your tattoo before sealing his mouth over you again. “Want you to come for me.”

For him. For Bradley. You want to come for Bradley.

It is almost instinctual how your body responds when he laces the fingers of his free hand together with yours. You have been feeling so untethered in your own skin by the promise of another deliciously devastating orgasm. The squeeze of his hand is your gravity, anchoring you back in the moment with him

And he is holding more than your hand in his as you fly apart for him. He has your heart.

You can hear his gentle murmurs, but your brain can’t process anything other than a few choice words as he peppers kisses back up your body.

He leans over reaching for the forgotten half-full water glass on his nightstand, probably some misguided attempt to be courteous, but you need his mouth on yours right now. He makes a noise of surprise as you pull him to you, your mouth is already parted and ready to chase the taste of yourself off of his tongue.

It’s slow and languid and just what you need.

“I’ve never come so hard before,” you laugh pulling away from him after a few minutes, the endorphins hitting you hard. “You should lead with that. Bradley-Gives-Great-Head-Rooster-Bradshaw.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement, “I don’t think that would fit on a helmet, but you can introduce me that way if you want.” His voice is smug, but it’s his satisfied smirk that thrills you the most.

“Oh my god, you’re preening! You’re so pleased with yourself right now,” you giggle, your thumbs stroking over his mustache at the wetness still there.

“Damn right I am,” he rasps leaning in for another lingering kiss.

Bradley kisses you like a wildfire, all unrestrained heat. And you will happily burn for him. Under his touch you are regenerated, reenergized, revived.

“I want you,” you breathe into his neck, tugging on the band of his black boxer briefs. His body was already a visual treat and his heart even better, but you want to feel him against the center of you with nothing standing between your body and his.

You don’t want to want anymore, you want to know.

With your help, he pulls them down his strong thighs and off completely. You’re treated to the reminder of just how big he is, it would almost be intimidating if you weren’t so desperate for him.

You run your hand up and down the length of him. He was right that night on the phone, you’d need to use both hands next time.

Savoring the way he drops his head down and pants into your clavicle, the coarse hairs of his mustache rough on your skin in the best way. With your other hand, you play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His biceps quaking from where they’re rooted on his mattress next to your head.

You want to make him feel as good as you do.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your mouth would be the end of him.

“Next time,” he grunts out. He’s barely able to think with the way your hand is stroking his cock, let alone speak.

“Haven’t you thought about my mouth on you? Come on, Bradley,” you purr temptingly. You both know you’re not playing fair when you tighten your grip on him.

“Shit.” He’s breathing hard now. “Of course, I have. I thought about it this morning when I got myself off in the shower, sweet girl.”

He’s treated to both the sight of your dimples and the clever twist of your wrist at his confession. He knows you think you’re going to get your way, like you usually do, so he changes tactics, “I promise, the next round you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Already planning for round two, huh?”

“Yeah, kid,” he says hoarsely, “Did you think this was just going to be one and done?”

You collect some of the precum from the tip of his cock with your thumb and lick it off as you look up at him doe-eyed and innocent, “Well then, I hope you can keep up, Lieutenant.”

A feral groan rips from him and he drops his head down to yours feeding you his tongue. He dominates your mouth as he slides and swirls his against yours. You whimper prettily as both flavors melt across your tongue.

“Do you like the way we taste?” he rumbles, his voice like gravel.

Bradley doesn’t know how to interpret the sound you make or the way you choke out oh my god.

“Sorry, too much?” he asks raggedly, checking in. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable because he can’t stop from running his mouth.

“God, no. I’ve never been so turned on, Bradley,” you pant, as you rock your warm, wet pussy against him. “Don’t want you to hold back with me.”

You’re both naked and it’s no secret how this night is going to end. He loses himself to the feel of you as you roll your hips against him, whining every time the head of his cock connects with your swollen clit.

“Hold on, hold on,” he doesn’t know why he feels nervous bringing it up, but he needs too while he still has the brain function to talk about it. “I’ve got condoms. It’s been awhile for me, but I got a new box in my bathroom. I just need to go grab them.”

He moves to get up, but you tighten your hold on him.

“I’m on the pill. I, um, got back on it after our first date,” you say almost bashfully. “So if you wanted to go, ah, without it would be ok. I would be fine with it if you didn’t wear one. More than fine, actually.”

There’s something about your endearing self-conscious babbling that helps him get out of his head, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, always. You know that,” you tell him, nudging your nose against his.

“I haven’t done this without one before,” he admits.

And it’s clear from the way your eyebrows spring up that this surprises you, “Wait, never?”

“Never,” Bradley confirms. He brings your hand up to his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

While he’s had a couple serious girlfriends in the past, one didn’t like the way the pill made her feel and the other didn’t like the mess. It was never a big deal to him as long as everyone felt good. He liked that extra layer of protection, he never liked the idea of potentially getting someone pregnant and leaving them to care for his child when his job was so unpredictable.

And with one-night stands, the use of a condom was never even a question.

“So, I get to be your first?” A delighted grin overtakes your face, as you affectionately run you hand through his hair.

“If you want,” he offers softly.

“I want it to be me,” you say with such sincerity it makes his chest ache.

You pull him back down to you and wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to you. The two of you are a frenzy of wandering hands and teasing tongues and needy noises.

“How do you want me?” he asks, low and velvety.

“I’ve imagined everything,” you whisper, your thumb caressing the long scar from where your hands are cupped around the side of his neck. “But I want you like this, just like this.”

He has always been wrapped around your finger, but with your hand on his cock guiding him to the center of you, he is at your mercy.

You trusted Bradley to be gentle not only with your body, but also with your heart. You were safe in his stupidly big and unfairly perfect hands.

There’s no holding back the sharp inhale as his thick, flared tip enters you for the first time. He’s barely inside of you and the way he is filling you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before.

The low whine he makes as he slides into you without anything in-between your bodies is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You are impossibly wetter at the knowledge that you are the one to make him feel this good, that it’s your body he’s experiencing this with for the first time.

Your eyes flutter close at the sheer stretch of him as he presses further into you.

Slowly, gently, deliberately.

“No,” he roughly rasps, pausing half-way inside of you, “Look at me.”

His desperate tone sets off more goosebumps over your body. With no small effort on your part, you do as he wants.

He looks just as overwhelmed as you feel. The flush from his cheeks and neck has worked its way down his broad chest, there’s a sheen of sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat and you want to lick him there.

“Want you to keep your eyes on me.”

You fight the urge to squirm as he slowly serves you the rest of his cock. He’s intensely watching your reaction to every ridge, every vein, every thick inch of him as he makes encouraging circles with his thumbs over your hipbones.

If you were to close your eyes again, you know you’d be seeing stars. But how could you when he was looking at you with such wonder.

You are nearly undone by the sensation of being so entirely wanted and cherished and lo—

“Bradley,” you whimper, unguarded under his gaze.

Every emotion is pounding away inside of you, eager for its turn in the spotlight.

“I know, I know.” His voice is rough and wrecked.

You can feel what he really means. We’re right on time.

Your heart stumbles over itself when he tenderly kisses the damp skin of your temple when his hips finally, finally press against yours.

And for a moment you two just hold each other’s eyes as you get used to being connected with each other in the most intimate of ways.

Your mind was taking snapshots of everything, you didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. All these little details of him that belonged to you. The length of his eyelashes. The flush of his cheeks. The state of his pretty wavy hair made messy by your hands. The pinch of his brow. The exact shade of his whiskey brown eyes as he stared into your eyes.

It is almost too intimate the way he is looking at you when he starts moving above you. As he took in your every dewy blink, every hitch of your breath, every little sound you made. As he slowly, purposefully rolled his hips against yours.

That untethered feeling was settling over you again. “Bradley, need you to kiss me.” You feel his hands tighten on your waist. He was inside of you, but you needed him closer. “Please, please.”

His lips are on yours like a flash. “Anything,” he murmurs in between deep, thorough kisses. “Anything you want.” You take his tongue just like you take the rest of him.

You’re on the right side of too full and he is hot and heavy inside of you. It is dizzying being this stretched around him, this surrounded by him. You can feel everything. The orgasm that sneaks up on you is a silvery, shimmery thing that coasts over you like stardust.

“Fuck,” he groans as your pussy lightly flutters around him, slowing down his thrusts to draw it out for you.

You recover quickly, the sensation that swept over you was not nearly as intense as the ones that he gave you with his mouth and fingers, but no less satisfying.

“Of course, you’re good at this too,” you laugh breathily.

He huffs one of his own in response, his mouth pulling crookedly to the side, “I told you we’d be good together.” He props himself up higher with his forearms from where they were lovingly, protectively caged around your head, “You feelin’ good, sweet girl?”

“So good, it’s so good, Bradley.”

You can feel his grin when he makes your back arch from hitting you just right. Grasping onto his thick biceps, your fingers dig into the corded muscle there. All you can do is let the rhythm take the lead as he picks up the pace again.

It’s hard to draw a full breath. Whether from being so filled by him or from the pressure building in your chest you couldn’t say.

He is everywhere, but it still isn’t enough. You don’t know if you want more or you need less. If you need him to go slower or if it’s not fast enough. You’re so overwhelmed, it’s just so overwhelming how good he is making you feel.

“Bradley, I need, I need-” you can’t even finish your sentence before you’re making a noise of frustration.

“Shh, it’s ok. I got you, kid.” He tosses your legs over his shoulders and raises up to his knees. Lifting your hips up as he reaches over to grab a pillow and slides it underneath you.

Next powerful thrust of his hips has you feeling like you are going to vibrate out of your skin.

Bradley has always been a big fan of mutually assured orgasms, but he had no idea sex could be this good. He has never felt so in sync or connected like this with anyone else ever.

And the way you feel around him with nothing separating his body from yours was indescribable. Only you had the ability make him feel this good.

He wanted your heartbeat to syncopate to the syllables of his name like his did with yours.

“Fuck, fuck. That feels so good,” you stutter out. The new change of angle has you even tighter for him as the sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room. “B-bradley.” a thrust “Your pillow.” a grind “The mess.”

“Fuck the pillow, I’ll get a new one,” he grunts. He clearly isn’t doing his job if you’re concerned about something as inconsequential as some feathers surrounded by cotton.

And then his loses himself in your whimpers and whines and the feel of your perfect-for-him body. In the silky warmth of you. Of his hands on your waist, on your hips, on your ass.

He has to remind himself this is the first time of many. He’s been dying to have you in every way possible for weeks. He wants to know if you sound the same as you do right now beneath him or if your sweet noises changed whether you were above him or on your hands and knees in front of him.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises. You clench around him and his hips nearly falter in the slow, steady rhythm he has set, “Mm, of course you like a compliment.”

Bradley leans down to kiss you and you cry out at the change of position. Good girl. He teases his mustache down your neck, licking along the straining tendon of your neck. Pretty girl. And then he has he mouth on your breast again. Sweet girl.

The position is perfect for him to grind against your clit. The sounds of your soft sighs, of your breathy moans, and your shaky exhales as he hits that spot inside of you just right has him fighting the urge to chase his own release. And he can’t hold back his own sounds of satisfaction when your hot mouth trails along his collarbone, your tongue laving over that scar on his shoulder.

“I can feel you’re holding back,” you urge. “More, give me more.” One of your hands goes to his ass encouraging him to go faster.

“I’m trying to be romantic here,” he only partly teases, as he rolls his hips in that way he now knows makes you gasp.

“You are, you are,” you promise as you pet the side of his face. “But Bradley, I need you to romantically fuck me harder.”

Only you could make him laugh and make his cock stiffer all at the same time.

He’s never been one to deny you. He sits up on his knees again and flings one of your legs over the crook of his elbow, opening you up and giving him more room to give you just what you want.

“Look at you, I can’t believe you’re mine,” he groans. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as he gives it to you harder, faster, deeper. “Touch yourself for me.” The only thing he can think about was getting you over the edge, so that he could follow you.

He nearly comes at the pretty sight of your fingers making rapid circles on your clit. His hips are rocking into yours roughly, and the way you are whimpering his name is ratcheting his need for you even higher.

Your mouth feels too far away, he wants to taste his name on your lips. He drops back down caging you in his arms. The two of you groan together, he’s much deeper this way. Your hands are fisted in his hair, pulling tightly at his curls as you sweep your tongue against his.

There’s no way he’s going to last with you gripping him like this. He can already feel the tension building in his spine. He knocks your hand out of the way as he takes over the ministrations on your clit, rubbing you there with tight circles.

“Bradley,” you gasp and writhe desperately against him. The way you chant his name sounds so breathy and perfect in his ear as he speeds up the motion of his fingers needing you to come undone.

And then he feels as you spasm and arch and come apart for him with his name on your lips.

bradleybradleybradley

The blood is buzzing in his veins and his breathing has gone entirely ragged as he continues to move in you until you go soft in his arms with a full-bodied sigh.

And then he gives into the desperate way his body needs yours as he chases his own climax.

He presses his face into the curve of your neck, mouthing at whatever skin he can reach as he comes. Nothing has ever felt so good to him as it does emptying himself inside of you, as he thrusts deeper into you as your body convulses around his.

It’s an earth-shattering orgasm that takes and takes and takes.

You don’t know how long you and Bradley lay there tangled up in each other, all heated skin and rapid heartbeats. It’s the most you can do to run your hand through his damp hair from where his head is still tucked against your neck and up and down his muscular back.

He’s long since pulled out of you and you can feel him dripping out of you. But if Bradley isn’t worried about the mess, then neither are you.

You’re still getting use to the weight of him. Still getting use to the shape of your bodies pressed against each other in this way. But it’s better than you could have ever hoped for.

He’s better than you could have hoped for. In every way that mattered.

“So, same time, same place tomorrow?” you ask finding your voice first. You can feel his chuckle as he kisses your neck once, then twice before he pulls away to look at you.

His brown eyes are rimmed with hazel and crinkled around the edges. All the affection and happiness and familiarity evident on his flushed face.

And then he smiles at you. And you know you’re wearing a matching one.

And then you giggle. And he lets out a laugh as he reaches up to softly brush the sweaty strands of hair away from your face.

“You know what’s not fair?” He lets out a hmm of acknowledgement for you to continue as his thumb traces your cheekbone. “You’ve got all these nicknames for me, but I don’t have one for you. Should we try some on for size?” you croon against his ear. Feeling very pleased with yourself when the heavy hand resting on your hip tenses in response.

You kiss along his jaw. Honey. Over his cheek. Baby. On the corner of his perfect mouth. Sweetheart.

“Bradley,” he murmurs looking at you softly.

“Bradley?” You repeat it back to him. Not questioning, but there’s a curiosity there. You love the way he leans in into your touch as you comb your fingers through his waves.

He nods and you’re hit with a wave of affection for this man in your arms. Your Bradley.

“Ok, Bradley,” you say indulgently as you drop a lingering kiss to his lips. “I can work with that.”

And then you’re whispering his name and alternating kisses to his skin, his stomach tensing and flexing as you work your way down his body.

Not one to break his promises to you, he keeps to his word and lets you whatever you want.

After you’ve gotten your way and after he’s gotten his again, you’re wrapped up in his strong arms tangled in his sheets. You’ve never been more satisfied in your life than you are with him here and now, warm and cared for.

You’re too contented in the blissful after you had been so needlessly worried about to fight sleep as it comes to claim you.

Will you two stay intertwined like this all night? Or will he chase you across the bed like he has been chasing you in your dreams?

Snuggling in closer to Bradley, you think about how excited you are to wake up next to him in the morning. Knowing him, he will probably be up before you, hopefully waiting with a steaming cup of coffee for you.

With his soft breaths in your ear, you let yourself drift off to the sweet potential and possibilities of tomorrow.

There’s so much to look forward to.

More of Bradley, more with Bradley.

The two of you are perfectly and exactly on time.

This was written as the part of a series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. If you missed Part 1, you can read it here!

They’re right on time, and boy, was it worth the wait!

If you’re curious about what Bradley’s room looks like, you can check it out here! (I’ve updated it to include some headcanons)

I wrote this little series as a birthday gift to my favorite Taurus Moon twin @gretagerwigsmuse! It only took a couple months, Jordan, but its the gift that keeps on giving!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 17 days

Note

This one request may be a little out there but can I request various creepypastas walking the reader home after they notice someone trailing behind them? They don't know the reader that well, maybe they've just entered the friend stage?

Various crps walking the reader home

Ooooo love this idea sm, sm sm might YOINK this for other characters in a different post

Characters: nina, hoodie, masky, toby

Notes: reader is GN, you and the crp arent dating but you guys are friends/friendly

CWs: stalking(? Does it count if it's an isolated instance of being followed?), implied violence

NINA THE KILLER

doesnt even wait to greet you when shes close by, she calls for you and says hi as she rushes up to you from... wherever she just was-

hooks her arm around yours, and keeps her hold on you firmly... perhaps out of concern... the risk that you might get snatched by someone else and taken?

though its not likely, given that shes twirling her knife around in the air in plain sight as she practically skips by your side- talking to you so casually as if there was nothing wrong

as soon as the person is gone shes asking if youre alright- do you need her to add someone on the chopping block? because she can probably track them down and-

fully understanding if you dont want her to do anything like that, but you can tell shes still... contemplating... insists she spends at least some time with you when you get home to make sure all is well- during the time shes there shes making sure youre alright as well as helping ease yourself after something like that

HOODIE

very tall, likely towers over whoever is making you feel threatened. unlike masky, he does look back at the other person... almost as if he is sizing them up

in the light you swear you catch a shine of something hidden away in his pocket- but the need to pull it out never arises as the person keeps their distance

its dead quiet between the two of you- as expected, and he does give you some breathing room... hes slightly behind you, almost like a barrier between you and the creep

immediately stomps out any attempts the person makes at getting closing the gap by blocking their way and glaring down at them until they either go the other way or pass ahead of the two of you... and even then hes going to continue moving to keep between you and them

will come inside if you offer him, he keeps an eye out long after the danger has passed

MASKY

you were already so caught up in making a plan for what to do, that you didn't even realize Masky taking his spot next to you. He nearly scared you just as much as the person behind you, at least.. until you realized it was just him

keeps close to you, and doesn't give the one following you a look.. to further push the point that the two of you are together he wraps an arm around you and tugs you closer

for someone who is usually so adverse to touch, and being interested in keeping his personal space- he was more than willing to toss all of that out of the window to bring you even an ounce of security

you eventually lose them, but thats not going to stop him from walking you the rest of the way home. he doesnt invite himself in, but you catch him stalking around the outside of your house- as if making sure there was no other unwanted visitors

TICCI TOBY

not as quiet as his fellow proxies, and in fact will spin around to make a conflict if the person isnt dropping it as you draw closer to your neighborhood

its... hard to say its the right choice, but making noise does add in the uncomfortable fact that it may draw attention- that in of itself isnt the best for toby given his record... you know, with arson and the like..

and if the person takes it as an opening to rush forward? toby goes no where without his weapons, and if the person didnt take that into account or didnt notice them then thats on them! anything that happens afterwards is just karma!

even if it doesnt escalate to that he talks with you, making it clear that the two of you are familiar with each other- he spares no volume as he catches up with you- will flash his hatchet and perhaps drop some recent work he was meant to do for his boss

gladly takes your invitation to stay, keeps you company and you both end up having a sleepover together

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girlbossagenda · 6 months

Note

Hi! I love your posts! Can you do one on: how to stop fawning over pretty more “seemingly” confident and educated women our age? I tend to do fawning and it’s embarrassing because I want to have more successful and confident friends but I end up being a pushover or weirdly admire them wayyyy to much and I become nervous speaking to them. Thanks so much!

HOW TO STOP FAWNING OVER OTHER GIRLS AND BE YOUR N°1 FAN

Omg, this is such and underrated topic!! Thanks for asking, we usually see the beauty and the light in other people, to the point that we stop seeing the true beauty inside of us, sometimes we ever become doormats to our own friends, Time to change! So here's how:

౨ৎCREATE CLEAR BOUNDARIES౨ৎ

Girl stop showing up for every single little thing, especially if they won't do it for you too!

౨ৎDON'T SPEND TIME WITH THE SAME PEOPLE ALL THE TIMES౨ৎ

Try to enter in different rooms with different people and found in which roon you are more appreciated, maybe you shine more in a place full of alternative people or in a place with the classic ig influencer!

౨ৎDON'T BE EASILY ACCESSIBLE౨ৎ

People are going to take you fro granted if you're the one who always shows up, especially if the plan it's last minute, ofc, I'm telling you to not skip every meeting or people will start to not invite you, but take in consideration to live more for yourself.

Sometimes saying "No sorry for this day I can't" or "sorry maybe next time" can help you gain more appeal and make you feel more confident.

౨ৎPUT THEM DOWN OF THE MF PEDESTAL౨ৎ

Why bow to them and not bow to yourself? What makes them so special? Are you not the main character of your life? So act like it! take space, act like the leading role!!!

౨ৎTIME FOR A GLOW UPPP౨ৎ

If you are bringing down your looks, I suggest to actually practice some for of selfcare along side with putting in practice some glow up tips, starting from the basics to then reaching the top level!!(I might post a glow up guide soon!!)

౨ৎGET TO KNOW YOURSELF౨ৎ

When you know yourself, you know how much you are worthy, do it for your younger self, once you get to know how you are inside, you'll start to idolize your own self

౨ৎEDUCATE YOUR SELF౨ৎ

If it's education the proble, gain more knowledge, get educated, but don't always talk about it randomly ofìr people are gonna take you for a show off, instead try to share that knowledge by going to acculturated places, or inviting them out somewhere like a museum, a book review meeting, a festival etc...

Sorry for the late answer, you know In middle school I hed your same problem, but I solved it by simply avoiding this type of girls and focusing on myself, so every single time whe had some type of conversation I could handle it with my brain(I wasn't that much of a beauty back then lol). I hope you have a great day, and I hope I helped xoxo gougeous

-𝓐

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parvulous-writings · 3 months

Note

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, and Halsin react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush? - Fluff anon

Notes: My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Astarion

Initially, Astarion is rather grumpy about the whole situation; being stuck in close proximity with anyone is going to initially make him a little frustrated. He likes having the freedom to move all his limbs as he pleases, thank you very much.

However, it doesn't take him very long to start flirting, or making risqué comments to you. He's of the opinion that, despite you both being stuck together, he might as well have a bit of fun with it whilst it lasts, right? What else is there to do, if not seize the moment to make a few cheeky jokes?

"You know, darling... Things normally happen between two people who are so close..." His voice isn't much above a whisper, but you can hear it loud and clear. "I do believe there may be a game around a situation such as this..." He taps his chin in mock thought. "What say we give it a try~?"

He very much enjoys giving you little, teasing touches. Nothing too risque, they're usually feather-light, the only reason you know he's doing them, is because you can practically see the smirk in those red eyes of his.

Once the pair of you are free, the whole ordeal becomes a little inside joke between the two of you for him, something that he frequently will bring up during your travels together, usually at your expense.

Gale

Gale is incredibly awkward about the entire situation - he tries not to be, he tries to play it off coolly, but alas, it does not work. He's jostling near constantly, his legs always moving in a bid to try and give you more space, and always failing. He just ends up kicking you, which he profusely apologises for every time.

"Oh- sorry, sorry... I didn't mean to- Ouf- Sorry, again-" He falls entirely still for a moment, trying to think of a way out of this little situation. He, obviously, cannot wriggle out of it, lest he bruise your ribs more, nor can he actually see a way out - it was far too dark to make out many details. He would have used his magic, but it felt like any movement only ended up in hitting you, and making the situation ever more tense - and he's not looking to upset you, not in the slightest, he wants the same thing you do! To get out!

After the two of you are finally let out - thanks to a very helpful Karlach - Gale tries to brush over the whole incident. He tries not to touch upon it too much, if at all if he can help it. If you mention it at all, he'll play along in the conversation for a couple of minutes, though his cheeks are bright red, before he excuses himself for anything he can think of - no matter how trivial, or outlandish the thing may be. He doesn't overly like remembering the time he kept accidentally kicking you.

Halsin

Halsin is no small man - entirely the opposite, in fact. Thankfully, though, he is very aware of this. He tries not to move too much outside what is strictly necessary to keep his joints from screaming at him, and he makes sure to move slowly, and with warning. He's constantly mindful that it's not going be easy, being stuck in a confined space with a man who is quite literally as large as a bear.

He's very sweet about the whole thing - constantly asking how you are, and if there's anything you'd like to talk about to keep your mind off of the current situation. He'll only make jokes if you start making them first - he doesn't want to make you feel like he's making fun of you for somehow getting stuck in here with him.

He doesn't try to bash his way out - knowing full well that it may likely hurt you. He just reassures you that all will be alright, soon enough. And it is! He doesn't bring up the incident unless you bring it up first - he knows that some may make comments or assumptions about the predicament, so you touching on the topic first tells him that you're comfortable to talk about it in that moment, and he will almost happily reminisce with you.

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oneforthemunny · 4 months

Note

oooh could we get some hockey!eddie, visiting/surprising him at practice, flufffffff 💕💕

for the sweetest most polite anon lol! hockey player!eddie who's birthday happens to fall during the training season.

"He's gonna be so stoked." Chris, the team manager grinned, pushing the heavy stadium door open for you.

"I hope so." You smiled gently, ducking under his arm, following him down the long, cinderblock stadium.

It was still so cold, despite the heat cranked high everywhere. Boston in the winter was brutal, winter time worse than Indiana's ever could imagine. It was a miracle you'd even made it, didn't get snowed in and grounded at the airport with all the snow.

"No, he's gonna love it, trust me." Chris grinned. "I got some of the guys in on it too, hope you don't mind. Just his coach and his agent. I told them he had an interview after practice."

"An interview?" You lifted a brow.

Chris snickered. "Yeah, he thinks you're with ESPN so just go with it." He shrugged. "I knew if I just told him to stay, he'd get suspect. Plus, this is gonna be fucking priceless."

You giggled lightly, following Chris around the hallway. A few players lingering around, most cleared out for the evening, but no sign of your curly headed love.

"Hey, Franco. Munson's in the conference room, right?" Chris nodded towards the closed door, the other man grunting in response. "Cool, hey, stay right here, ok? I'm gonna make sure he's ready and set up."

You nodded, standing to the side, a knuckled grip on your purse strap. Your tummy flipped with excitement, maybe nerves. It had been a few weeks since you'd seen Eddie, since he'd left for training season. You didn't want to be a distraction, but with his birthday this weekend, you couldn't let him celebrate alone. Especially not after he sounded so sad, so disheartened on the phone- he missed you, told you every single day, every time he called.

"...Perfect, one sec. I'll tell her you're ready." Chris opened the door, pulling you from your thoughts. He waved at you, stepping out with door still half opened. "I'll leave you two alone, but if you need me, I'm right out here."

Your heart fluttered, flipped and skipped with nerves, pushing the door open, sliding into view. You caught a glimpse at Eddie before he fully saw you, finger drumming on the desk, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with the team's logo proudly on the front, hair still a little damp from his shower.

Your breath hitched, watching his face fall in shock once he saw you. A pause filled the space between you two, the door clicking with a shut behind you.

"Oh, no way." Eddie gawked, blinking hard, like he might be hallucinating. "N-No way. Is this real? Holy shit, you-you're- Baby, what are you doing here?" He stood from the table, tripping over it, the metal legs screeching when he shoved it.

"Surprise." You squeaked, opening your arms to hug him.

Eddie nearly tackled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly to him. "Holy shit, I can't believe you're here. You're actually here, I-I thought I was getting interviewed-"

"-No." You giggled, pulling back lightly to look at him. "Just me. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday."

Eddie's face lit up, lips curling in an even brighter smile. His hands cupped either side of your face, lips on yours, pulling you into a head spinning kiss that screamed I missed you I missed you I missed you.

"I can't believe you're here." Eddie muttered, lips vibrating against yours.

"Happy birthday, baby." You muttered back, fingers raking through his hair. You'd missed him, missed him much more than you realized now that he was standing here in front of you.

Eddie pulled back, looking up at the door. "Chris knew about this?"

You giggled, nodding. "He helped me get my flight and stuff. Picked me up from the airport."

Eddie shook his head, grin still wide on his face. "Chris! You fuckin' liar!" He yelled playfully, the men behind the door howling in laughter. "I thought I was about to get my cover story!"

You laughed, pressing your face to his chest, rocking with him slowly. "This is better though." Eddie added, hugging you tighter to him. "Just for the record, this is way fuckin' better."

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 11 months

Text

The Arcana HCs: Play fighting with M6

Julian

A duel, you say? Allow him to demonstrate his years of combat experience - oh you're stronger than he expected

Wait that's kind of hot

Makes no further effort to win. Does he pretend like he's trying? Yes. Have you seen how he fights when he's actually trying? Yes. Is there a marked difference between now and then? Absolutely

Oh no, you've pinned him again, MC, oh nooo ...

The only way to convince him to take it seriously is if you make some kind of bet ahead of time for something that you know he wants (e.g., unlimited quantities of caffeine for the next 24 hours)

In which case you will actually have to struggle, but you must bear in mind that this is someone who has survived so far on wit and the ability to make himself useful. He is not a combat artist

You have a good chance at winning anyways, only this time he's significantly sweatier from the effort of losing

Will absolutely try to distract you so he can get the upper hand (again, assuming that he's interested in winning)

MC, look over there! MC, has he ever told you about that one adventure near the strait of seals? MC, are you ticklish?

Asra

They are stronger than they look, and to this day nobody knows why because you've never seen them work out in their life

(it's the lifetime of constant magic use, it takes more physical stamina than you'd expect)

He's also got more practice getting through a fight than he'd like to admit to after spending his childhood on the streets

All this to say, they know how to win and you can tell

Except that he's not nearly as focused on winning as he is on finding ways to make you laugh and smile and plant a kiss wherever you're the most ticklish

Play fighting with them follows the following steps:

1) initiate fight

2) get consistently pinned into different snuggling positions

3) give up and snuggle, OR

4) alternate ending: don't give up, keep squirming out of his grip until he's tired of it all and

5) they grab the closest blanket (potentially out of thin air) and wrap you into an MC-burrito so they can snuggle you in peace (finally) while you wriggle and pout

Nadia

Hasn't done this since she was a child and her older sisters would challenge her to it. Doesn't know why you're interested in such a childish past time, but if it makes you happy ...

Hm. This is more fun than she expected

Especially when it involves lovingly pinning you and watching you try to struggle out of her hold

Actually, if you want to conserve energy, you might want to try adjusting your grip - like so - see?

And when it comes to grappling, you'd do well to shift your weight to the other leg a little more - yes, exactly like that

What starts as a play fight will quickly turn into a grappling lesson

Which is still plenty enjoyable, but it's not exactly what you were going for when you started it

No worries though. Your countess does enjoy a challenge, so improving your own skills will only serve you down the road when you initiate a rematch

If you get tired but don't want to surrender, tickling will work to get you out of her grip

Only do this with caution, as she will remember it and pay you back

Muriel

Play fighting with Muriel is impossible, but not for the reasons that you would think

To begin with, it's difficult to initiate. If you walk up to him with a broad grin and say "let's fight", he'll start checking you over to see if you've hit your head

If you run at him for a playful tackle, he'll just stand there unmoving and watch you "splat" onto him. You have strange ways of initiating physical contact and showing affection, but he doesn't judge

If anything he'll just awkwardly pat your head and then look away so you can't see his blush

The closest you'll get is by telling him you want to spar, but then he'll take it very seriously because it's important that you don't let Morga's training go to waste (and you should protect yourself)

He'll make space in the clearing and fetch your bow and his staff and set up some practice targets for you

By then you won't have the heart to tell him that that's not what you meant so it's going to be an afternoon of training instead

On the plus side, you have the benefit of watching him work out those muscles

Portia

Oh, now you're speaking her love language!

She is also very strong, but she knows that the whole point of a play fight is the fun of testing each other's limits, so she's not going to put all of her strength into defeating you

Unless, of course, you don't seem like you're giving it your all either

Well now she's fired up

Something to know about being close to Portia: she gets competitive very quickly and doesn't like giving up

The more she thinks you're holding back, the more she's going to push you until she's either found your limit or you've found hers

Play fighting has been known to devolve into a pillow fight, by the way, which begins with flying pillows

And continues with Pepi getting worked up and pouncing on said flying pillows

And ends with feathers flying everywhere while the cat subdues her foe (the now shredded pillowcase) and Portia spends the next two days picking them out of her hair

She will unironically shake your hand and say "good match" after

Lucio

He always starts off by taking it more seriously than is warranted

This is a golden opportunity to show off how strong and manly and impressive he is

Ooh, this is a lot of physical contact

He likes this. He likes this quite a lot

He thinks he can take advantage of this

All of a sudden he's completely lost focus (which you're lucky for, because unless you have a level of combat experience similar to his, he's got an advantage in both skill and enhanced arm strength)

Hey, if his shirt "accidentally" comes even more unbuttoned than it already is, that's a mere coincidence and he has no idea what you're talking about (though he doesn't mind you looking)

Oh no, there goes his cape too!!

And his shoes. And his jacket. You should probably call it quits before Mercedes and Melchior decide to play tug-of-war with his satchel and ultimately run off and bury it

Speaking of, the dogs will come running and barking if they think Lucio is losing and can't tell that it's on purpose

If his makeup gets smudged he'll pout until you kiss it better

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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kairiscorner · 11 months

Note

KAIRI I GOT YOU! I NEED ME SOME FLUFF WITH MY BOYS BOKUTO AND DAICHI THEY HAVE BEEN IN MY MIND NONSTOP PLEASE AND THANK YOU

OFC DEAR, I GOTCHU (sorry i got back to this late, school is ASS)

his girl. (part 1)

summary: a day in the life of being their girlfriend, of them being totally and utterly smitten with you.

a/n: no, you're not in a poly relationship with them unfortunately :')) but i hope y'all like these small scenarios! please don't be shy to request for any haikyuu characters with this prompt!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ daichi sawamura

it is no surprise that daichi is the captain of the karasuno males' volleyball team–what's there not to like about him? he's experienced, strong, very friendly, yet he makes it clear that he cares about the members outside of volleyball, that he cares about those he loves as people, not just as teammates or colleagues.

and of course, the same could be said about how he feels towards you, his beloved partner.

one thing to note about daichi is that he is a worrier, beneath that tough and sometimes scary image he has, he only gets this way when he's worried–when things get out of hand; and when it comes to you, daichi can't help but fuss over you a lot, but he is never overbearing, mind you.

he gives you your space when you need it, lets you figure out what you have to do to grow as a person and to let you live a little more independent from him–but he lets you know that, when things get tough, he wants to be your refuge; to be the one you come to seeking comfort in and helping you catch your breath from such awful or bustling days.

"now, now... don't beat yourself up, they were all small mistakes. yeah, sure, some of them might have lasting effects, but i know you're doing everything you can to make up for it; i'm right here for you, so please, don't ever worry about it–we'll handle it, together."

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ kotaro bokuto

he may be a bit immature, sometimes clueless that he is being immature–but can he help it, wanting to live in the moment and enjoy his last year of high school? especially with his girlfriend–you.

bokuto is a loud, boisterous guy with a massive confidence; he's kind of the stark opposite of you, and he loves that very much. he likes being all loud around the rest of the guys on the team when he's talking about you, whining about how the day's way too long for him to not spend every hour with you, and he loves catching your eye when you enter the court during their practice matches to see him play.

he goes absolutely crazy when he sees you in the crowd, he will personally go out of his way and climb into the bleachers just to hug you, to shower you with affection that's long overdue.

akaashi tries to stop him and hold him back from attracting too much attention towards you two, but as long as you're okay with it, bokuto finds no reason to not give the only girl he's made to love all the love, affection, attention and devotion he has for you.

"babe, i swear, i'm gonna win every set for you–every game you come to, you keep me going! i'm gonna make sure we win, not because i want to, but because it'll make you smile, right? so, the opposing team can bring it on, because i'll make sure we win, and i'll make sure you'll be proud of me–every single time!"

#daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #bokuto koutarou #bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #hq bokuto #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu bokuto #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu x female reader

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kalims · 1 year

Text

[ 10:50 ] — leona kingscholar needs to stop using his authority for you

"what the hell is this,"

you can't help but blank out at the several savanaclaw residents all individually holding fans that vary in size and color. they're all lined up in a surprisingly coordinated line and are currently heaving their items upwards to downwards repeatedly.

basically they're fanning you?

despite your clear equally confused and horrified reaction leona lays down in a long, comfortable chair a few distances away from you. it might be a good point to add that he's also receiving the end of cold air the students are generating so you can't help but think that he's obviously the person behind this.

apart from the backround characters who are sacrificing sore arms at his expense. leona had taken it upon himself to get comfortable, his hands are behind his bed. he peeks them open to cast you a glance. "what?"

your movements stutter from pointing at the students behind him and then at leona, holding a lost face. "uh—you can't just force your residents into labor," you wince and emphasize with the pained grimace one of them displays.

heck, they're getting red in the face.

leona, who raises a brow at you like he didn't do just that pauses at you before scowling. "weren't you the one complaining all about the heat yesterday? I'm doing you a favor that's all," he explains and your jaw drops.

but that was normal! who would even assemble some type of.. club dedicated to fanning people? you just said it in the moment as an expression!

plus it really was hot. at this point if you told leona it was too cold he'd probably get about a hundred heaters installed in the dorm.

"but that was literally a joke, If I knew you'd do this to these poor students I wouldn't have said it at all," even if you're technically siding with them they still manage to side eye you a look that tells you they're offended.

and from your experience they probably think that you saw them as people who can't handle the heat.

figuratively and literally.

leona and his acts of service can get a little out of hand after all. you promised you'd be careful with whatever you'd say but it's hard now when you honestly just wanna joke around.

last time you jested about a room in savanaclaw that isn't leona's he actually made it work and boom, there's now a vacant one beside his own. though leona said that there's no need because you inhabit his own room so much that you can practically call it your own.

which isn't exactly wrong..

"you guys can go, if you want," you gesture at the group who falters for a second.

then leona looks at them over his shoulder.

"anyone?"

they all stiffen up and yell. "no dorm leader!" and another exclaims something about being glad to even work for leona while the others quickly fall into sounds of agreement.

you huff at leona who's thoroughly enjoying the artificial breeze created by human labor. his hair is flowing with the direction of it which gives you all the more reassurance that he's enjoying this much more than he bargained for.

"you're scaring them," you deadpan, and he shrugs. "fear demands respect, they respect me that's all,"

"aren't you gonna join me?" he tilts a head to an open space next to him and you're surprised he hasn't taken up the space all on his own and actually reserved a spot for you.

you clear your throat and cross your arms. gee, whatever this was is oddly enticing. you can feel how much heat your body lost from being hit by the side of the wind. you're no longer sweating profusely at the attacks of summer and can only daydream at how heavenly it would be if you were in the middle.

... you're starting to see why leona looks like he's enjoying himself.

"why should I?"

"it's my gift to you, isn't it rude to disregard it just like that?"

oh wow so this whole thing was a gift?

"is this a trap? I know, those fans are poisonous aren't they?"

he deadpans at you. "if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it another way, plus,,, it's not everyday I'm in a good mood enough to spoil you,"

"you call this spoiling?!" in your idea it's quite far from it but whatever he says..

you'd call it forced labor.

note. this is basically leona taking everything mc says too seriously. he's such a simp fr

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fluff #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twstnexus

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

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#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 7 #Azriel #Azriel x reader #Eris #Eris Vanserra #Azriel shadowsinger #Shadowsinger #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader angst #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

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