#who took the time and effort to do their craft

[taydaq]

I updated my carrd, but I've decided to stop posting on instagram due to their ridiculous AI bullshit. I'm just very tired of AI tech bros and the people who support them coming in, STEALING hard work, and taking over creative spaces.

If you want garbage art from a machine and people who think they're an artist because they typed in a few words, go ahead. But I don't want to stay.

[twilightarcade]

to do list for my eyes Only

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[slytherinslut0]

mattheo riddle. let me fuck you.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor!Reader

SUMMARY: worried that mattheo was just going to use you for sex and leave, you had him agree to courting you first until you felt you were ready to take it to the next level. after months of this, mattheo finally can’t take it anymore, and lands himself on his knees at your feet.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k.

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, Degradation, Praise, Absolute Feralism, Begging, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex (implied cloaking charm), Dirty Talk, Swearing, Oral (f receiving), Body Worship, Slight Breeding Kink.

Courage. Bravery. Honesty--all traits that your house, Gryffindor, valued and honoured.

However, conspicuously absent from that list, was stupidity. A trait that you certainly seemed to posses a fucking abundance of these days.

To delve into the specifics, you possessed stupidity in the form of pure idiocy that took root when you began messing around with a certain curly haired Slytherin boy. This curly haired Slytherin boy just so happened to come from a group of assholes who seemingly detested your friends as well as your own bloody existence, having been nothing shy of full blown enemies for majority of your time spent at Hogwarts.

And yet, somehow, one thing led to another with this certain boy, and before you knew it you'd found yourself in a certain situation you'd never have imagined in a million damn years.

A courtship.

Securing Mattheo Riddle's commitment to court you exclusively, with a firm agreement to abstain from sex until you felt unequivocally ready, baffled your understanding. This arrangement was meticulously crafted out of a deep-seated concern that, left unchecked, he might merely try fuck you and then vanish without a trace.

He was known for doing that.

The rules of the courtship were a safeguard for your heart, a decision rooted in self-preservation, rather than any preoccupation with your virginity or lack thereof.

The harsh reality was simple – you desired Mattheo Riddle, despite every instinct screaming that you shouldn't. To shield your heart from potential wreckage, you implemented a set of rules governing the extent to which Mattheo could advance in your relationship. The decision to progress to the next level, if and when you deemed him deserving, rested solely in your hands.

It was a fool proof plan. No way for you to get hurt.

However, to absolutely no one's surprise, Mattheo wasn't a fan of this plan –not when he reluctantly agreed to it, and certainly not now. Not as you were seated across from him in a dimly lit corner of the library, the top buttons of your white button-up uniform shirt straining against the curve of your tits, your tie a loosened mess around your neck, and your burgundy pleated skirt way too fucking short for any bloody blokes sanity to remain intact.

Mattheo had counted the fucking days since the two of you started messing around, each instance of shared intimacy without crossing that final threshold chipping away at his restraint like relentless erosion. He wasn't fucking sure how much he had left in him.

"Did you finish this one, Matt?" Your voice rang out as a soft whisper, the hum of it snapping Mattheo from his wandering thoughts.

Forcing himself to meet your eyes and not linger on the buttons of your shirt just begging for fucking relief, he nodded. "Yeah. This one too."

Mattheo lifted a divination book, a testament to the exhaustive night the two of you had spent cramming for tomorrow's exam. Weary, you gave a nod, pushing up from the desk.

"Let's put these away, yeah?" you suggested gently.

Mattheo's throat parched as he observed you tugging down your skirt, a belated realization of how perilously high it had inched past your hips. With an innocent effort to conceal the expanse of those enticingly thick thighs – the same thighs he enthusiastically found himself nestled between every damn night – you fueled a growing heat within him. Mattheo cleared his throat awkwardly, giving a nod before pushing himself up as well.

As the two of you retreated into a dimmer, more secluded section of the library, you bent at the hips to return your book to its shelf. Unmindful of Mattheo's intense gaze, exhausted yet persistent, you began chattering. "I think there might be one more we can skim through, if you're still up for it-"

That thought abruptly dissolved as two sizable, calloused hands sought out your body, gripping anywhere and everywhere they could. An instinctive flinch involuntarily escaped you, but the sensation of those hands delicately tracing your thighs swiftly eased your tension. A trail of burning flames surged up your torso, and you instinctively straightened against him.

"For fucks sake." Mattheo's voice resonated as a low, deep growl in your ear, so intense you questioned whether he meant for you to hear it. His fingers clawed at the buttons of your shirt, nearly tearing it open in a frenzy. "What the fuck are you doing to me."

"Matt-" your hands came up, finding his. The two of you had certainly messed around in a lot of questionable places, but the library? At midnight on a weekday? "W-what are you-"

That sentence was abruptly cut short as Mattheo's lips attacked your neck at the same exact moment he slipped a hand through your now unbottoned shirt and roughly cupped one of your tits, twirling his thumb over your nipple. An entire body shudder rumbled through your limbs and the softest of moans escaped your lips, filling the charged air between you.

Music to Mattheo's fucking ears.

"Let me fuck you." It wasnt necessarily a demand but more of a plea. The desperation in his tone was fucking palpable. He sunk his teeth into the side of your neck as he pressed his hips against your ass, the entirety of his erection jabbing into your back. "Let me fucking fuck you."

You gasped, lids fluttering in an involuntary response as his hand switched to your other breast now, kneading and groping and squeezing with just as much fervour, more even. When you moaned again, he growled against your neck, pulling off you momentarily just to spin you around to face him.

His hands seized your hips, pressing you back against the shelf. "What is it, princess? What the fuck do you need from me?"

You scarcely had a moment to absorb the question, accompanied by the raw, desperate vulnerability in his tone, before he surged into action again. Long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, while the other hand ascended to your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze.

"I've been so fucking good, have I not?" His fingers inched excruciatingly slow over your mound, taking his time to tease you for all he could, watching every subtle ministration of your face as he went. "I've stayed out of fights. Haven't partied. I've been so fucking loyal..."

You swallowed, acknowledging the sincerity in his words. Yes, all those things were undeniably true. Mattheo had transformed into a different man in recent times. While you were drawn to him for the chaotic soul he was, the fact that he willingly opted out of party nights to spend time with you hadn't escaped your notice in the slightest.

Mattheo noted your silence. "Was it the drugs? Because you know I quit those."

Long fingers crept toward your slit, one finger gliding along and coating itself in your slick. Gods, if you weren't already fucking dripping for him.

You tried to shake your head. "No, Matty..."

His hold on your jaw tightened as he felt how fucking wet you already were. He snuffed a groan in his throat. How a little fucking Gryffindor could manage to have him in such a chokehold was beyond his comprehension.

"Is it the smokes?" He tilted his head, watching your eyes. "Because, fuck--I'll light every last one into flames right here in this fucking isle. I'll use the ashes to sear your fucking name onto my skin--just give me the goddamn words."

As his finger connected with your clit, drawing quick frantic circles over it, you mewled, your hands squeezing his biceps as your brain could only muster the comprehension to say one fucking word.

"Mattheo-"

"Mhm." Mattheo groaned, pressing his lips to your temple, his hand on your jaw slithering down to clasp a firm hold around your neck. "Yeah, baby, that's my name, fuck...say it again."

His pace on your clit increased, your head spun with carnal lust. Intoxicated. "Mattheo-"

"Yeah, good girl. Fuck--so fucking good." The reply came within seconds, along with the release of your throat, his hand gliding back to tangle in your hair. "Come on, baby, you know I'm not in this for the sex...you know I want way more than that."

If you hadn't already been rendered helpless and speechless from his relentless pace on your clit, you would have scoffed at that. But instead, all you could do was attempt to breathe the words out between your moans.

Your lids squeezed shut, fingernails digging into the fabric of his uniform. "I-I don't know that, actually."

"Fuck." Mattheo dipped low, his finger thrusting into your cunt before you could even realize it had, his thumb continuing the pace on your clit. The way your wet walls gripped his finger as he pumped it in and out of you was enough to send him into pure fucking desperation. He sucked in a deep inhale, gathering himself. "How do you figure that, hm?"

"Because-ah-here you are practically fucking begging me to let you fuck me." Your back arched, your legs trembling. If it wasn't for Mattheo's looming frame practically pinning you against this shelf, you were certain you'd be a pile of limbs on the floor at his feet. "You're just...t-telling me what I want to hear, Matty."

"I'm not." His pace increased, his brows knit tight. He didn't like that response. Not one fucking bit. His lips found your ear, his grip on your hair intensifying. "You don't understand how fucking bad I want you--how fucking bad I want every single last inch of you. Your laugh, your smile, your wit, your heart, your fucking soul. You haunt me every moment I'm awake. Even when I'm asleep you're there, fucking torturing me. I dream about waking up next to you. I dream about growing old with you. I dream about worshipping you, pleasuring you. I dream about pumping this perfect cunt full of my cum. No woman has ever fucking done this to me. I'm insane for you. For fucks sake please let me fucking fuck you princess. I need you so fucking bad. All of you."

"Gods," was all you could say, not a single shred of coherence left in your brain, not as those words bounced around inside your head in rhythmic hums synced with the movement of his fingers. You were right there. "Matt--fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

"Mhm, go on baby," he cooed with a softness that seemed to fray against the edges of desperation, his voice nearly shredding against his vocal cords. How he was keeping himself together was truly fucking impressive. "You're so fucking good for me. Such a pretty fucking pussy, hm?"

"Yours," you breathed out just as your vision blurred, your entire body shuddering around his fingers. "It's all yours!"

A choked gasp slipped from your lips, swiftly muffled by the plush entirety of Mattheo's mouth. His tongue invaded past your teeth, meticulously exploring your gums as if etching the details into memory. The sound of his groan reverberated through you, but it soon became a mere echo as your ears rang and your orgasm charged, coursing through every inch of your being, leaving your head spinning and your body trembling against the shelf.

Mattheo withdrew his lips from yours, sensing the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through you, sure in the fact you had regained enough composure to remain quiet without his help. He grazed his teeth along your jawline, warm breath bathing your skin as both of you panted in unison, bodies pressed and fighting for breath as he slowly pulled his finger from your cunt and teased over your clit with slow, sensual swirls.

"Let me fuck you," he repeated again, softer this time, his voice a whisper as light as a feather in the air. "You said it's mine...you said this pussy belongs to me."

"Yes," you panted, squirming against his hold as he continued his slow teasing strokes over your clit. "I...I did say that...it does..."

"Mm," his dark eyes lingered over your lips before he leaned in slightly, resting his forehead against yours, erratic breaths intermingling. "Please. Fucking please, let me take what's mine."

Mattheo Riddle had gone by many names over the years; an asshole, a delinquent, a rebel--but a man with manners? A man who'd ever had to beg and plead for something he wanted? That was not something you would have ever included in his description. Seeing him like this, completely and openly vulnerable, did something to you. Something you knew you could no longer resist. This was a man you knew you were willing to take risks for, willing to risk getting hurt for. It'd been fucking months. You wanted him. Just as fucking badly as he wanted you.

"I dunno, Matty," you grinned, unable to fight it off even if you tried. "Maybe you should say please again...maybe you should say it on your knees..."

Mattheo huffed, a groan accompanying it.

"Dirty, dirty little thing..." he whispered, pulling his hand from your cunt entirely now, both hands shifting to your hips, gracing them with a feral squeeze. "You really fucking are mine, aren’t you?"

As Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees at your feet, you were certain the entire world had faded away. You were certain that time no longer existed and that there wasn't a single other living being in the entire expanse of the universe--all there was, across all existing planes of reality, was you and this messy, curly haired boy at your feet, looking up at you with dreamy chocolate eyes, poised to beg and fucking plead for release from his torment.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," his hands trailed a steady path from your hips down your thighs, squeezing and grabbing every inch of flesh he could. "You know that, right?"

You pulled your lip between your teeth, unable to peel your eyes off this boy before you. He was mesmerizing, In all his glory. Every last fucking molecule of him.

"Yes, Matty..." you breathed, your hands clutching at the wooden bookshelf behind you, steadying yourself. "You tell me a thousand times a day."

"Only a thousand? I was aiming for way more than that." Mattheo hummed, wetting his smirk-adorned lips as he brought his mouth to your inner thigh, softly nipping at it. "Guess I have to step my game up, huh?"

You blinked, pulse pounding in your ears. “I-“

“Please, princess…” Mattheo shifted, snapping himself back to the task at hand, nipping at your other thigh now, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His eyes never left yours. “Fucking hell.”

In one swift movement, his hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart, one leg slung over his shoulder as he brought his lips to your already dripping cunt, placing a vulgar kiss to it, tongue delving into your slit, a trembling groan echoing in his throat when he swallowed your wetness.

Your lungs sputtered, head falling back against the shelf--his eyes, in the pits of perversion, watched you, soaking in your speechless delight while he explored each tiny crevice of your cunt. Bliss built inside of you for the second time, blocks of white hot energy, stacking with every second those velvety, full lips massaged your folds. Your mouth fell in an open pant, your hips rocking into his face--his hands moved, sticking your wrists to your hips as he gripped you there.

You struggled to find your breath--oxygen had left the room--and you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep your moans quiet. Your previous orgasm still had you tingling, the stimulation almost, almost too much--but you found yourself climbing toward your second with little effort. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you, tiny moans leaving you while he sucked slowly on your clit, engorged and throbbing at his lips.

"Fuck, Mattheo-" you whined, your nails digging into the flesh of your own thighs as his strong grip kept them pinned there. "I'm gonna-fuck-"

Your core thumped with a demand to cum--Mattheo was reining you to a cliff, your desire a wild animal, bucking with abandon and ecstasy.

"Mhm, that's it," he muttered into your flesh. "Let me fucking taste you."

His tongue swirled over your nub, slipping wet circles around it before he groaned and sucked it hard between his teeth. You wailed, cracked, orgasm gushing through you, a geyser, a cascade of ecstasy that left you quaking, your walls spasming at his chin.

There was no more holding back your moans. "Oh--f-fuck!"

Mattheo swallowed your release hungrily, releasing your wrists and clutching your hips to his head, as if the evidence of your pleasure sustained him, laving at you until you squeaked and jerked from sensitivity. With a satisfied gasp, he released you entirely, slowly rising back up to his full height, watching with tethered emotion while you descended from your high.

Without even giving you the chance to process it, he reached down and swiped two fingers along your slit, collecting your cum before bringing it up to your lips and urging it past your teeth.

"That's what I do to you, baby," he cooed, his eyes far less intense than they were before. His free hand brushed the sweat dampened hair away from your forehead, watching as you wrapped your lips around his fingers and worked them clean. "You like that?"

You nodded, heat flashing your face, and Mattheo groaned appreciatively, slowly pulling his fingers from your mouth. His gentle grip found your chin now, drawing your eyes to his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, "you don't have to-"

You cut him off. "Fuck me, Matty."

Mattheo blinked, and you reached for his belt.

"Please, Mattheo," you clenched, body quaking with need. Even after two orgasms you still wanted more, needed more. You needed him, and now you were the one willing to beg for it. "Please, fuck me."

Almost immediately, Mattheo's eyes darkened, his gaze glossing over with a hunger that spoke volumes far louder than any words ever fucking could. He leaned in slightly, your scent still lingering on his breath.

"You want me inside you? Hm?" He purred, lips grazing over yours. "You want me to fuck you here? Open and exposed for anyone to see?"

You smirked knowingly. The cloaking charm he had cast didn't escape your notice. This boy always had a knack for thinking one step ahead. Yet, the exhilaration of the prospect was just another facet that had initially drawn you to him.

You nodded. "Yes, Mattheo...I need you..."

Mattheo pressed his lips to yours, not wasting another singular second of time as his hands moved to the clasp on his belt, fumbling with it, a low groan escaping him as he pulled his throbbing cock free, gliding his fist over it a few times as his tongue hungrily fought with yours.

Mattheo's hands shifted to your shoulders, spinning you around, your own hands grasping at the shelving in front of you. You felt the warmth of his thick length gliding between your thighs, teasing you, slicking himself in your wetness.

"You're sure you want this?" Mattheo's voice was a soft growl in your ear, his hands grasping at your hips with enough force to bruise. "Fuck, princess, please be fucking sure."

The reaction was immediate. As though he asked you if you needed oxygen to breathe. "Gods, I'm fucking sure, Mattheo. I'm so fucking sure."

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, fingernails digging into your flesh, pulling your skirt higher up your torso. "You've got me so fucked up, princess..."

As he slicked his length over your core once more, teasing your entrance, you whimpered. He was so smooth and silky and fucking big...you knew this was going to sting, even after two orgasms, even after he had you dripping down your thighs. Just that thought alone made your pussy clench, you'd do fucking anything to get him inside of you.

"Mattheo..." you whined, your body tensing with each false thrust. "Stop teasing me."

"Shit,” he breathed, easing the head of his length into you now, before slowly pulling out. "I'm teasing myself, baby...I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself-"

You groaned, shuddering. "Please!"

Mattheo matched your groan with one of his own, and with one smooth movement, he tightened his grip on your hips, tugging you closer before he drove his dick into your cunt, splitting you open with one deep, slow thrust.

"Oh..." he moaned, paused, froze, entire body seemingly turned to stone. The only outward sign of his consciousness was his rapid breath washing over your neck. "...fuck."

You gripped the edges of the shelf with such intensity your knuckles were pale, doing everything within your power to keep quiet. The feeling of him seated inside you like this was everything you'd fucking imagined it to be. Better even. Your entire body was tense with bliss, your walls moulding around him.

Mattheo's lungs sputtered. "Relax...fuck-relax around me, baby..."

"I-" You weren't sure what he meant, your body trembling, your heart pounding in your throat. "Matt-"

"I'm not going to fucking last," Mattheo growled into your ear, the strain in his vocal cords more prominent than ever. "...if you keep squeezing me like that."

You mewled, head falling back against his shoulder as you fought to suck oxygen into your lungs. Mattheo finally began to move inside you; slow, easy strokes in an effort to give you a chance to adjust, feeling your tight walls relaxing around his thick girth, before he pulled out entirely and slammed back in, stuffing you full, groaning as you pulsed around him with each brief pause.

"Fuck...tight fucking pussy...so fucking wet..." he whispered, lips pressed against your ear. "All fucking mine."

Any ounces of restraint Mattheo had managed to maintain prior to this clearly had now been entirely annihilated as he increased his pace, fucking into you like a savage, as though he'd never get to fuck you again. He panted into your ear, groaning, fingernails bruising your thighs while he hammered your cervix with thrust after thrust after thrust. Sputtered curses left him under his breath and he attempted to silence himself with your neck, biting and nibbling at your throat. You stifled every single noise that threatened to leave your lips, body bouncing with the power of his hips, air hiccuping in your lungs as he pounded you.

"This little pussy is mine...you're mine..." he growled, fingers snaking down and brushing over your clit. "Fuck, you feel so good...I can't believe you kept this from me for so fucking long..."

Rapture numbed you, at the edge of your skin, a typhoon ready to wreck you witless. Your lids fluttered, teeth biting your lip with enough force to draw blood. He was going to make you crack. Make you fucking scream. There was no way you could continue being quiet when he was fucking you this good.

"M'sorry, Matty-" you weren't even sure what you were apologizing for. "So good...so deep...I-"

"Cum for me." Desire had consumed you both, his pace embodying complete desperation, a frenzied, urgent need to bring you both to orgasm. "Cum so I can fucking breed you...pump this little cunt full of my cum like I've dreamed of doing for months..."

Mattheo increased his pace on your clit, thrusts deepening even further--which you didn't even think was physically possible. He was slamming you deep, panting with every snap of his hips, your pussy hot and slick and pulsing with your oncoming climax.

You couldn't hold it back anymore--"Oh Gods-Mattheo!"

You shattered, exploded into flames, spectrum of colour blazing through your mind, a string of sobbing wails fleeing you as pulsed and spasmed on his dick, third climax shuddering through your veins. Mattheo groaned, clamping his palm over your lips as he continued to drill into you, holding off his own climax for as long as he could until he was physically unable to control himself--and he cursed, lungs sputtering as his hips slowed, cock twitching inside you as he poured his cum inside your cunt.

The room itself seemed to shudder, a tremor rumbling in the hardwood until he had finished and slowly pulled out, a deep, satisfied sigh leaving his chest.

After you collected yourself enough you spun around and watched as he tucked himself away, brushing his dampened curly hair back from his forehead. He straightened out, tucking the soft white fabric of his uniform shirt back into his pants before doing up his belt.

The second his eyes met yours, you reached for him. "I'm sorry for making you wait-"

"Don't ever be sorry," he cut you off, pulling you into him and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "You were more than worth the wait, baby."

[l4ndon0rris]

A Love for the Ages CL16

A collection of short stories of yours and Charles unique love story through the ages

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader // sibling!Pierre a/n: i have a lot of this already pre-written in my drafts so there will be scheduled uploads regularly - each short flashback in time will begin with the same intro you see below - if you want to be on a taglist lmk

All eyes were on you, the white wedding gown that clung perfectly to your body, your impeccably crafted hair paired with flawless glowing makeup. There was no denying you looked ethereal standing at the altar gazing into his familiar eyes: those eyes that had comforted you, cried with you, looked at you with desire, had burned with anger and softened with apologies. The eyes that have witnessed dark days and brighter ones now bore into your own; you saw a flash of anticipation in them waiting for you to mutter the two words joining you together forever. Those eyes transported you back through everything that led you here, to this altar, holding his hands, about to embark on forever.

8 years old

You were a typical eight-year-old with lots of friends who all obsessed over the latest boyband, your parents’ victims to hours of being the audience for your self-choreographed dance routines to a variety of songs. You were lucky, in hindsight, to have so many friends around you at a young age. Sleepovers were your favourite thing to do for birthdays; Pierre, your older brother, was always allowed to have his own friend over for company whenever you had a sleepover. It was a rule that annoyed you at first - sleepovers were an only girls allowed territory - but Pierre and his chosen friend typically locked themselves in his room and played on his gaming console so you knew he wouldn’t interrupt.

You were running around behind your mother in an effort to help before your friends arrived; your mother was ensuring there was enough room for their sleeping bags, double checking the fridge was full of enough food and drink cartons and accepted your idea of placing the CD player in the spare room so you had enough room to practice your dance routines in private before the big show you would unveil later in the night.

“Charles is here!” Pierre exclaimed as he darted past you toward the front door to let him in. You followed your mother, choosing to linger in the nearest doorway as she greeted Charles’s parents taking his overnight bag from them and welcoming him into the house. You vaguely recognised Charles' round face from one of Pierre's racing weekends.

“Here you are, Charles. Have fun you two!” You spotted a hand ruffle the top of his brown head of hair, another handing him a gift bag he shyly took. Your mother and his parents exchanged numbers in case of emergency before closing the door. Charles stood with a gift bag adorned with a pink bow in his hand when he spotted you staring his way curiously; Pierre’s friends were usually all older than you but Charles looked younger, he had an innocence in his eyes that matched your own.

“Pierre said it was your birthday, so this is for you – happy birthday,” Charles politely spoke, walking toward you, the bag with the pink bow held out in front of him. Looking between the gift bag and your mother she silently encouraged you to give your thanks and ushered the three of you into the front room to place the gift bag on an empty table.

“We’ll put any presents here for now - that’s so kind of you Charles, thank you,” your mother reiterated, not quite satisfied with your shy mumblings of appreciation you gave. None of Pierre’s friends had ever brought you a gift before so this one was already your favourite out of them all.

“Let’s go upstairs and play my new game!” Pierre was already visibly bored, bounding up the stairs, Charles followed behind politely and gave you a small friendly smile you shyly turned away from.

“Let’s put some music on shall we? Your friends should be here soon,” your mother turned on the CD player you had already set up with three CDs to rotate between that would earn approval from your friends. You took the opportunity to peek inside the lone gift bag on the table, glittering pink wrapping paper in the shape of a box sat inside. You wondered what the strange new boy with brown floppy hair had bought you when he didn’t even know you.

Charles had undoubtedly intrigued you from the moment you first met him.

[marragurl]

The idea just hit me: Ratio’s students are called his ducklings 

He’s fully aware of it and makes no move to stop it from spreading around campus. 

Being considered one of Ratio’s ducklings is kinda a big deal because those are the students who are willing to put in the effort and work to keep up with Ratio’s teaching style. 

They are both terrified of him and respect him so much that all the other students are in turn terrified of them. And while the ducklings don’t get any special treatment from Ratio, there’s something special and comforting about being part of the group of students who are willing to stick with Dr. Ratio’s coursework. 

This is how I see it happening: 

It started during Ratio’s first few years of teaching. Not his first year because I fully believe his first few classes were really controversial and had a lot of dropouts once his personality and harsh teaching style were made known. 

It took a while but after a few years, there’s finally a class with no drop outs, even if it’s super small. However, this class are also the students who are dedicated and truly want to learn and refuse to quit even with Ratio’s standards. 

(They still complain and cry of course, the student life is all about pain- no this is not me projecting as a uni student, I’m perfectly sane I promise-)

And of course, like any other student who needs to understand wtf is going on in class, his students do everything in their power to create study groups and attend his office hours, which are 100x scarier in the beginning since that’s prime one-on-one time with Dr. Ratio. 

At least in lecture the man is a hundred seats away from you. Here, he’s speaking directly to your face as he explains just how wrong you are and giving advice on how to fix that. 

At first, due to how unused to Ratio is from having a class of students who are truly trying to keep up with him (whether they’re succeeding is up to interpretation), he only spends time with them during lecture and office hours for the first few weeks. 

And then it spirals.

Around campus, you begin to see the esteemed Dr. Ratio being followed by a gaggle of students tripping  over each other, constantly asking question after question and him answering each one. Even as he’s being blunt, he never looks like he’s trying to outrun them, and even stops occasionally to write in one of the student’s notes.  

The ducklings nickname started out as a joke when someone made the connection of his students following him like baby ducks after lectures, and spiraled a bit more when one of the students found one of his rubber ducks in his office.

And so after finals, that first class of students got together for a nice drinking party to celebrate their freedom. A few drinks in of reminiscing about the class and how they’ll actually kinda miss Dr. Ratio, someone made a joke of buying some rubber ducks for the good doctor. Continuing on the high, an entire gaggle of drunk uni students just pull up to a craft store at 3am and start hunting for ducks. Another brilliant student laughs at the idea of personalizing each duck, and the rest of the class find the idea so funny that they buy out an entire aisle of craft supplies and get to work.

The next day, hungover but still committed to the bit, the entire class show up to Ratio’s office and each hand him a personalized rubber duck along with a terrified thank you for the class. 

Ratio would give his usual denying spiel of how “it is unnecessary” and “your education is all the reward a professor could want” but this is his first ever class with no dropouts and who all managed to pass their finals. 

The man is a failure at not caring, he is crying on the inside.

So he keeps the ducks on a shelf in his office. 

Somehow, the duckling nickname just cements itself after that day, and each class afterwards, despite all the pain and grumbling of the students, are always referred to as Ratio’s ducklings because only the truly insane (dedicated) stick it out and follow after him. 

And after each final, his little ducklings always give him their own personalized rubber duck that he continues to add to his shelf that he always had within eyesight of his desk. 

(the first class of ducklings are his personal favorite, though he’ll never claim to have any)

I’m incapable of not adding Aventurine whenever I talk about Ratio nowadays, I just have to accept that I love them both too much now. 

But yea, I like to imagine Aventurine finding out about the ducklings nickname first and teasing Ratio about actually having a heart and caring, which Ratio just denies and tries to justify as him being an attentive professor. But then Aventurine finds the rubber duck shelf and it’s just too sentimental for him to even think about joking. 

Adding to my headcanon of Aventurine being really curious about different subjects, I imagine that when he gets comfortable, he constantly asks Ratio questions about anything and everything. Ratio happily replies and teaches him. 

I like to think that one day, Aventurine would make his own personalized rubber duck to gift to Ratio as a 'thank you' for always indulging him with his questions and that rubber duck just becomes Ratio’s favorite. He gives it a little podium in his house and office and he constantly carries it around with him. He has photos of the damn thing. His first class find out about the duck and needle him about having ‘no favorites’ which he denies. Aventurine finds it both embarrassing and really cute. 

(I’m kinda pulling from my own experience with one of my old professors. She was terrifying but by god did I actually learn during her class. Every one of us would complain for hours about her exams, and boy were the averages terrible, but we were all also deeply committed to attending every office hour and defending her against the other students. It was like ‘She’s a harsh and insane professor, but she’s our harsh and insane professor.’ Everyone knew you were serious if you chose to take her class instead of other professors for the same course, she was that infamous. If I take 5 seconds to psychoanalyze myself without getting depressed, maybe that’s why I really like Ratio - outside of the burnt-out gifted child thing with emotional expression issues that also hit way too close to home. He just really reminds me of one of my own professors that I still really respect to this day) 

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

࣪ ˖✧ The Jackpot

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: You join Arthur and the boys for a job on the Grand Korrigan riverboat where you act as Arthur’s lap girl. The man in question is more than excited about this decision. ✦ Warnings: Guns, mention of shooting, swearing, SMUT, oral (reader receiving), edging if you squint, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 3,8k ✦ a/n: A big heartwarming thank you to @zae-heeyyy!! Who took the time to correct my dumb spelling and give me her thoughts on this before publishing it! Please go check her work, I swear it won't disappoint! Also: pictures are not mine! I usually try to use a pic for Arthur from my own playthrough but I'm fcking stuck on Guarma rn. Found them on Pinterest.

Dim lights are flickering all around you, making the golden ornaments of the luxurious place you're in shine like a thousand stars. You couldn't believe this gigantic reception room, gratified by a bar, a grand piano, and of course, three elegant poker tables, was actually floating on water right now, as you were on the Grand Korrigan boat, the jewel of its kind, den of the richest gentlemen in St. Denis, in search for some amusement and of course, even more money.

Trelawny and Herr Strauss had plotted a well-crafted deal that could earn a lot of money for the gang. Along with Javier disguised as one of the guards, Arthur would act as a new wealthy businessman who had just made a fortune in oil. Strauss would give him signals during his poker game, which guaranteed him to win considering Trelawny had made a friend out of the dealer.

You? You'd play his mistress, sitting on his lap during the game to make the scene look more convincing. On top of that, you had been able to hide a little gun in a hidden pocket in the underside of your dress, guaranteeing some extra protection, which wasn't a bad idea considering the Grand Korrigan was heavily armed and neither Arthur, Trelawny nor Strauss had one.

So here you were, thriving in your role, comfortably sitting on Arthur's lap, hands wrapped around his neck, both legs hanging on his left side. His arms were enveloping you, hands resting on the edge of the table as he was focusing on his cards.

Well, more like trying to focus, actually.

Maybe it was because you two had started a quite passionate relationship a few weeks ago, sneaking in each other's tent, simple kisses and whispers in the night quickly turning into something more, the both of you having cravings to fulfill.

Maybe it was because Trelawny, the damned man, had chosen a particularly suggestive dress for you to wear, comforting your play considering wives weren't allowed at the poker tables, only work girls and such, your cleavage on full display for his immoral eyes.

Maybe it was the way he could feel the round and warm flesh of your ass even through the fabric of your clothes, right where he wanted to, making his brain impossible to function properly, desperately trying to keep the hardness between his legs to stay in line.

Either way, Arthur had to make enormous efforts to focus on the job and was frankly relieved Strauss was telling him what to do; despite being a pretty good poker player, he would never have been able to win the easiest of games in this state.

Strauss told him to go all-in. He did. You smiled, you would have lied saying you weren't enjoying yourself right now. You had known far worse jobs than playing Arthur's lover. Much to your surprise, he had played a really convincing character through the night too, his usual mumbling far gone, replaced by a bright and confident speech and a cheeky grin that was making you want to kiss it even more. In fact, you wanted to take care of him just to see this cocky smirk flatter under your touch, replaced by a pleasured expression on his handsome face.

It was easy to say both of you were acting pretty good, but inside felt like two teenagers in love.

Arthur had won another hand, men were starting to leave the table, angry. It was only you both and the target now, an opulent man known as Desmond Blythe, loaded with money thanks to his hosiery business.

You pulled a cigarette out of Arthur's pocket along with a match, and you felt his breath hitch for an instant when you slipped your hand in it. Rubbing the match against the wood of the table, you lighted the cigarette casually, little flame illuminating a thin grin on your lips. You took a small drag on it to make sure the tobacco had plainly burnt, then you placed the cigarette in front of Arthur's lips, holding it for him between your index and middle finger, so that he could smoke on it while keeping both his hands on his cards.

It was downright one of the hottest things anybody had done to him and he was starting to lose it. Wrapping his lips around your offering and smoking a long drag, he allowed himself to avert his gaze from his opponent for a few seconds, planting his turquoise pupils into yours.

His eyes were half-lidded, long lashes accentuating the languorous gaze he was giving you. Your heart started racing. The power this man had on you was insane, but if only you knew what you were doing to him in return. You had a glimpse of it though, right there in the depths of his two blue diamonds, this so distinctive dark glow of him, direct window on the sinful pit of his urges.

You were sure your own eyes were mirroring it. And it got worse when, after exhaling some smoke, he quickly kissed the palm of your hand, indicating he had smoked enough, the warm sensation of his chapped lips on your skin giving you goosebumps. His eyes went back to Blythe, and you exhaled as if you had been holding your breath during the whole time you had locked eyes.

You retrieved your hand, taking a drag yourself on the cigarette after him, loving the idea of sharing it with him, of putting your lips right where he did a few seconds before, your biased brain telling you you could taste sweet remnants of him there.

Another all-in, another hand won by Arthur who couldn't stop himself from smiling this sly cocky smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Shit, shit!" Blythe shouted, hitting on the table with his fists furiously.

"I guess ma luck held... Is that you done?" Arthur asked him, his tone triumphant while bending over the table to gather his not-so-well-deserved chips. "Or, do you got somethin' else to play with?" He added more lowly, his baritone voice almost making you shiver just hearing it.

"Meaning?" Desmond questioned back, visibly frustrated. Looked like frustration was a popular feeling around this poker table tonight, about the game or other things...

Arthur had gotten up from his chair and you too, now standing by his side, partially glued to his body as he had snaked an arm around your waist while finishing to put in order his chips. He answered using the same taunting, arrogant tone as before.

"Well, I heard there was some big boys on this boat, maybe that's not you, no offense-"

"Sit your and your whore's hillbilly asses down." The rich men cut him off, voice dark and serious.

You felt Arthur's hand grip tighter on your waist. For a faint moment, you thought that his cover would collapse, considering how tense he had gotten hearing him calling you a whore. But the way he was still smiling was almost even more scary, it was a false, threatening one. The kind of smile that hides a cold anger, boiling silently inside.

"Why?" Arthur simply answered, tone brilliantly contained considering the way his muscles were flexing on their own under his fancy suit.

"I got a watch... An expensive one, swiss... a Reutlinger no less. It's in the safe, upstairs. It's worth more than you."

You forced yourself not to cross eyes with Arthur. Your target. He had just confirmed what you were all here for. Perfect, just a bit more of this whole play and Arthur would be able to access the strongbox.

"Okay, I trust ya." Arthur consented while sitting back on his chair, placing you with his two big hands back at your place, on his lap. You were definitely loving this job. You'd have to thank Trelawny for it, someday.

The rest of the game passed just like before, your outlaw ultimately winning once more thanks to your colleague's little trick. Desmond was furious, and you obtained your goal.

Arthur happily got up once again, gently helping you stand, one of his hands naturally resting on your shoulder. Before following the gentleman who was supposed to bring him to the safe, he bent over to you, head brushing against yours, his stubble and hairs tickling your cheeks. He whispered in your ear, voice deep and hoarse, this one voice that was always making your head turn.

"When we're finished here, I'm gonna take care of ya, darlin'."

You sighed, cracking up a sly smirk, your cheeks turning a bit red. These simple words were enough to make the heat between your thighs make itself known; crying out for attention. Being so close like this was allowing you to breathe in his scent, its combination on top of his breath on your ear was a dangerous mix for your sanity. You took the opportunity of having his skin so close to your lips to place a small kiss on his neck, right below his own ear.

Arthur smiled at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he took a last look at you before walking off. You sighed softly again, already missing his presence. The wait for some time alone was only making your own needs grow.

You were only hoping the job would end up smoothly.

Of course, it didn't. 

Desmond, sore loser, had accused Arthur of cheating. That and the fact that the guard Javier had knocked off to steal his clothes had appeared out of nowhere yelling to shoot him had set things on fire on the Grand Korrigan, the boat now witness to a heated shooting the Van Der Linde Gang was known for.

You had instantly pulled out your hidden gun and helped Arthur clean up the place thanks to Javier who had thrown him a rifle. The night had ended with your incongruous team jumping straight in the water, swimming back to the shore, a quite odd and armed to the teeth fish shoal. At least, everyone was alive, and you even had obtained a pretty decent amount of money, not even mentioning the watch Strauss had authenticated as a real Reutlinger. Arthur had quickly taken back the precious object from his greedy hands, "well give it back then", which made you laugh to yourself.

True to himself, your cowboy had instructed everyone to separate and get out of the shore, as always after a job. You were all quite a sight, soaked to the bones. As you were greeting everyone a good night, Arthur silently walked to you and grabbed your hand. Even with the water you both had leaking from your clothes to your skin, you could feel how warm his hand was, contrasting yours which was completely freezing cold from having swam in the icy waters. You wondered if this man was even human.

"But you, Miss, are comin' with me." He playfully informed you, not leaving you any choice.

It was not as if you wanted to go anywhere else anyway.

"Really now? What d'ya have in mind, cowboy?" You asked him with an equally mischievous tone on your own, your eye glued to the way his hair looked completely soaked, subtle rivulets sliding all the way from it to his neck.

"Maybe we could pay ourselves a well-deserved night in town..." He proposed, voice turning more and more into a low growl as he was letting his desires take the lead on his reason.

"I would love that." You simply agreed, before getting closer to him, tilting your head up to bring your lips to his. He gladly let you, one hand still holding yours, the other gently landing on the side of your face.

The walk to the La Bastille Saloon was supposed to be a short one, but you both looked like you couldn't wait to be there before teasing each other. You would sometimes stop walking to just attack his neck, lips merciless as you sucked and kissed him there. Your taunting acts were often met with his equally heated answer, one of his palms ending on your ass, or your thighs, your wet clothes transparent and glued to your curves not helping him to keep his touch away from these places of your body. Arthur's breath sharpened as he called you his lil minx, and no, darlin’, we can't just do it on the streets.

Finally, after having shocked the barman by arriving at such late hours in completely soaked clothes, which honestly just made the both of you laugh mischievously, you reached your love nest for the night.

And what a nest! Silk sheets, canopy bed, sumptuous decor glistening with the dim lights of the chandeliers. Even the floor looked comfortable, carpeted with some fancy patterns, matching the couch and bed's color. Red, just like passion, just like lust. Red, like the color of your cheeks right now as Arthur had closed the door and was already on his knees, placing you on the edge of the mattress. Red, just like what Arthur was seeing right now, hungry hands pulling your dress up, positioning himself between your thighs.

You looked down at him, his darkened eyes looking at you. You noticed he had ripped off his fancy tie, needing to breathe properly, the heat between you both already making him suffocate. In those moments, his beautiful pupils were always shining with a more murky color, his usual sky blue turning into a more cobalt one. They were staring intensely into yours, expression questioning. A silent demand. You nodded positively, quietly answering. Dooming yourself.

The moment you did, he buried his head between your legs, left hand resting on your hip, holding you gently. His lips started kissing softly on the fabric of your undergarments. His other hand quickly came, helping him in his task by pulling it to the side, granting him access.

The moment his lips met your folds, you let out a moan, unable to resist the feeling he was giving you. He was loving it, his ears getting redder as he was more and more aroused himself. He was so big between your thighs, his shoulders were spreading them almost completely open.

He licked in a long, slow movement all the way to the top of your pussy, making you sigh in pleasure already, hips jerking against his head, begging for more.

"Easy, girl... I've got ya." He soothed you hoarsely, left hand holding you more firmly to prevent you from crushing him totally. Nevertheless, he took your eagerness into account; he couldn't deny you anything. Not when it came to sex. Not when you were so beautiful in this ostentatious dress. Not when he had grown more and more found of you, even if he was refusing to admit it to himself completely for now.

He brought his lips on the top of your core, tongue gently circling around this so special knot of nerves, his stubble scratching pleasantly against your skin, bringing you even more sensations.

It was already so good, Arthur's mouth showing you no pity, licking, sucking, kissing, as if you were becoming the only food he could ever feast on, the only oxygen he could breathe with. The sight of his broken nose buried beneath your skin, as if he was searching to go even deeper within you was almost too much for you to handle. Your hands that were gripping the sheets had now found the top of his head, spurring him to continue, please please please, Arthur, more, or you could have died right here on the fancy bed of the La Bastille Saloon.

Arthur's tongue answered your begging call, lapping your sensitive spot faster, harder. How the Hell was that man so good at pleasuring a woman? That, sinful, dirty man, just like the sounds you were letting out right now.

Your vision started to blur, the back of your head sinking onto the mattress, your back arching deliciously, and you were going to let him know just how close you were until he stopped all of a sudden.

"A-Arthur!" You protested, head snapping back at him, eyes pleading, tone both offended and needy as his name had sounded more like a whine when it had felt from your mouth.

He smiled cockily at you from where he was, his mouth looking wet with your arousal. He loved it, he loved being responsible for it.

"I'm here, girl... I jus' need ya too much right now. Lemme just..."

His voice was now a low rumble, coming from the depth of his chest. You watched as he quickly ripped off his clothes with little care for them. Trelawny would have shouted at how he was treating one of the most expensive suits he had ever brought.

But he didn't care about the suit. And neither do you, as your eyes were devouring every inch of his flesh that was appearing under them. The sight of a completely naked Arthur always had the same effect on you, no matter how many times you already had seen it.

His muscular body looked like it had been carved by Angels. No, more likely by an angry, dark God, who would have sculpted him from a hard and brutal material, his many scars and blurs a remnant of it. You could almost picture his tools molding your lover's broad chest and shoulders with sharp, furious hammer blows. His powerful arms and legs had received the same treatment, as if the deity wanted to pass on all of his brutal force into his creation. And his cock was definitely no exception to it.

And yet, this massive force of nature was blushing under your gaze. He couldn't have resisted the hurtful sensation of emptiness around his shaft, one of his hands now giving himself a few strokes to try and relieve some of it. His eyes closed in a frown for a few seconds, your pussy burned at this unholy scenery he was offering you.

You were in such a state of need it was almost depraved. You quickly got rid of your own clothes, tossing them somewhere on the floor of the room, needing to share this intimacy with him, to feel his skin against yours.

"Oh, please... Arthur, jus' take me..." You asked yourself before he could probe your adequation. You knew him well now, you already knew the next words he was going to speak would be another demand to make sure you truly wanted this.

He seemed to enjoy how you had forecasted it, his eyes opening again to look at you, his cock hardening even more, precum slowly leaking from its top, wasting all the efforts he had done to relieve it a bit.

"If that's what you want darlin'... I'm your man." He answered in a growl, climbing next to you on the bed.

You weren't sure why but his last words had made your heart swell in your chest. You were sure, deep down inside of you, that he meant it in another way. He really had become yours, and you, his. Lost in your thoughts, you let him handle you gently, placing you on your belly against the silk sheets, lying himself on top of you, legs between yours.

You slightly moved your rear up against his erection, earning a grunt of pleasure from him. Saying he had loved it was an understatement; he had been thinking about doing this with you since you had sat on him on the riverboat.

Using his right hand, he placed his cock against your entrance, and finally started pushing, your pussy already ready for him thanks to his ministrations, your mouth mewling at the sensation. Your perfect, hot walls were finally enveloping him, and he tried his best not to come just from that intense feeling alone.

He was so big and tall behind you, his head could reach yours and he buried it onto the crook of your neck, his hair still wet offering you a cold feel, contrasting with his whole hot chest pressed on your back, making you feel as if a literal inferno was burning it. He slowly started to pull back, only to shove himself in you again, starting a slow but intense back and forth.

"God, damn it... 'Feel so good girl..." He mumbled against your skin, his arms encircling you from both sides, caging you under his tall figure.

You sighed at his praise, wanting to answer something to compliment him back, but he snapped his hips just at the same time, making you shut your eyes close, and moan louder than before. Your voice was starting to crack under the amount of pleasure he was bringing to you, hard shaft brushing this deep spot within your core every time his hips moved, hitting just right where you needed him to.

He had noticed, and it was only making him lose his mind even more, unable to keep his pace slow, letting his body unleashed. He had waited this whole night to bury himself in you, listened to this moron calling you names without having the right to punch his goddamn idiotic face. He couldn't hold anything back anymore.

He started thrusting more frantically, pistoning his cock in and out of you so fast and hard he was now fucking you onto the bed. His right hand grabbed a fistful of your ass, the feeling of it colliding with his pelvis with every thrust making him insane, the other one next to your left shoulder, preventing him from crushing you completely.

You could feel it, the familiar feeling, the divine relief, building more and more thanks to him, the pace increasing your pleasure. Feeling how impossibly hard his sex had gotten in your cunt, you knew he was close too. This simple fact was the last push to your deliverance.

"A-Arthur! God, yes!" You screamed, unable to form any coherent thoughts, existing simply for this, for this moment with him, naked on the bed of this saloon. Just you and him.

"Oh, darlin’, shit!" Your orgasm had made your walls clench even more around his dick, exploding his limit. He quickly removed himself from you, and finished at the last second on your back and ass, his burning release painting your skin in flaming spurts. His very own sinful art piece.

The room felt silent again. The air stifling from your lovemaking, the only sounds being heard were your sharp, quickened breaths. Arthur took a few seconds to collect himself, feeling better and so satisfied, almost euphoric. Turning your head to the side, you took a glimpse of your lover's gorgeous state. Hair messy, cheeks and ears crimson, sweat dripping everywhere on his skin, chest rising and falling in big, profound exhales.

He then grabbed a piece of fabric from one of the wardrobes to gently wipe off his seed from you, and tossed it away, wanting nothing more but to rest against you now. A perfect contrast, from an agitated, stormy sea to a quiet, secret cove. As if you were the only one who could see him like this, vulnerable, loving even.

You watched him lay by your side on his back, your head still feeling dizzy, slowly coming back from a world of fantasies. You snuggled against him, resting your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, feeling spent but so, so happy. And you felt the same. Still naked, skin against skin, heart beating together, just the two of you.

Tonight had been quite something, and despite having won a few thousand dollars, it was definitely not money that was making Arthur feel like he had hit the jackpot.

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸

daughter of demeter! reader x luke castellan 🌿

IN WHICH.. the “best friends” of camp half-blood maybe wanna become a little more..

warning! this fic contains: fem!reader // use of y/n

🎧- lovesick by laufey

1.7k

Camp Half-blood was illuminated by gold streaks casted from the early morning sun. Light seeped into Cabin 4 through the window, painting the room with warm hues of yellow and orange. The bright rays were a natural alarm, gently waking you from your warm sleep. 

As the covers slipped off your skin with ease, you carefully tiptoed out of the twin bed to close the blinds. Young campers softly snored, and you couldn’t help but smile at their blissful state. Grabbing the rough fabric, you quietly pulled the two pieces together, blocking any more sunlight from startling your siblings.

Sleep still threatened to drag you under, so you slipped on sandals and trudged towards the kitchen, eager to get a warm cup of coffee, or really anything to help you wake up. 

Outside was fairly silent, contrary to the rowdy and noisy afternoons that typically filled the camp. The only ones awake were boisterous birds, who sung an enchanting song, and a few other counselors who were busy setting up  for the day. 

Your steady steps carried you to the small camp kitchen, where snacks littered the room as a reward for the effort of the counselors. A small jet black coffee maker stood on the counter, with Luke Castellan lingering next to it, facing away from you. Your presence went unnoticed by him, and you watched as he swiftly picked up two steaming mugs.

He slightly jumped at the sight of you, surprised by your hushed entrance. 

“H-Hey. Made you your coffee.” He said, reaching out to awkwardly hand you one of the energizing brown liquids. You delicately giggled at him for his initial fright, and accepted the sweet gesture.

“Thank you. Excited for today’s activities?” You asked, taking a sip of your toasty drink. Today, Hermes and Demeter Cabin were partnering up for a lazy day doing arts and crafts and indoor activities. The kids spent the past week relentlessly training, working hard from dusk till dawn, so an easy day was needed.

“Any time I get to spend with you is exciting.” Luke replied, smirking, before realizing how that sounded and backtracking. “I- Uh, I didn’t mean it-“ 

You laughed again, quickly cutting him off.

“I know what you meant. See you at eight.” You turned away, teasingly bumping his shoulder. 

“See ya.” He whispered out, pursing his lips and doing a slight nod as he witnessed you sauntering away. 

You and Luke had been close friends since the beginning. He arrived with Annabeth and Grover, confused and broken by the world. Luke never wanted to be a demigod, to lose Thalia. It was all too much for him.

But then you passed by in the infirmary, practically radiating a positive energy. You smiled at him, a genuine smile, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes nearly closing, before going to chat with some Apollo kid.

You were selected to give him and Annabeth a tour later that afternoon, presumably for your friendly and charming personality that seemed to lure people in. Luke got to observe your perfection firsthand as you helped the his sister adapt to the new surroundings, sweetly showing her everything to love about camp.

Luke followed you around like a lost puppy, mesmerized by your every move. With every step you took, luscious flowers blossomed, creating a beautiful scenery. Not to mention, the kids looked up to you so dearly, with the way you patched their nearly invisible cuts and grew them tulips on their worst days. 

The sad reality was you were more of a mother to them than their biological parents, even if you were only fourteen at the time. You did your best to make them feel “normal,” to let them live a glorious childhood that you were never granted. 

In those five years after his arrival, you became close as ever. Whether it was spending time basking in the strawberry fields or splashing around in the lake, you spent every minute together, your bond stronger than any weapon forged in Olympus. You laid by him on those restless nights before he got claimed, and after, too. And when you had a small cold, he went full Apollo-mode and spent hours glued to your side until you felt better. 

However, there was one teensy issue. Luke was hopelessly and utterly in love with you. Every one saw the way he gazed at you a little too long and with a little too much love in his eyes for just a friend.

Well, all noticed except you. The poor boy thought you weren’t interested, but the reality was your concept of love was so twisted and blurry that you had no clue what “love” even looked like. 

So, both you and him stayed silent, hoping one would realize eventually, and end this torture of a situationship.

Which brings us back to now, a cool and humid lazy morning with the campers, lounging on the few picnic tables decorated outside Hermes Cabin. Luke watched as you sat with your (and his) siblings, carefully threading pearly pink beads on a flimsy string. You laughed as you talked to the young children, making sure they were all included. The sun brightened your features, making you appeal heavenly. And your eyes twinkled with curiosity as a little unclaimed kid ranted on about some silly story.

“Dude, you’re staring again.” Chris chimed in, raising his eyebrows as he continued to paint navy shades of blue onto a rock.

“Shut up. Aren’t you whipped for Clarisse?” Luke sarcastically asked.

“If anyones whipped here, it’s you. How long have you liked her now? Can’t you just tell her already?” He was quick to return the sassy attitude, remaining unbothered by his friend’s remark.

“It’s not that simple, you know that. What if she doesn’t like me back and-“ He tried to ramble on, negative thoughts swallowing him whole. Luckily, Chris was there to pull him out of his own mind with yet another dumb comment.

“Damn. I knew you weren’t Athena’s son, but I didn’t know you were that clueless.”

“What?” Luke questioned, slightly offended.

“How many guys has she dated since she met you?”

“None. But I don’t see how this really relates-“

“And how many have asked her out?”

Luke paused for a second. There was Ethan from Ares, who tried asking her on a date a week ago, but she declined. Or Jack from Aphrodite, who, let’s be real, was the most attractive boy in camp, but she rejected him, too.

Chris took his silence as a victory. “Exactly.” He retorted.

“Whatever.” Luke shrugged, hopping up to sit by you. You scooted to your left, making room for him instantly. Cheers erupted from the campers as they saw their (second favorite) counselor.

“Luke! Y/N told us that you still snore when you sleep!” One of them pipped out, sending the rest of the minions into a giggle fit. Luke took a dramatic gasp in, placing a hand on his heart to pretend he was hurt.

“I do not!” He yelped, making the younger laugh even harder. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kids joke around.

“I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” He said to you, trying to fake upset, but the huge grin on his face said otherwise.

“I mean, am I wrong? You are the loudest sleeper I’ve ever met!” You reply, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks the other way, and before you can say anything, a voice cut you off.

“Hey! Luke, Y/N!” A blond Apollo child shouted from afar, gently jogging while approaching them. They shifted their attention, prepared to fulfill whatever task presented.

“Chiron needs you in the office. New kid arrived. They said his name was Percy or something?” He finished, jogging away, most likely to get back to the infirmary.

The leaders looked back at their older friend, wondering if he could cover while they helped this newcomer out. 

Chris gave a thumbs up, signaling he could watch them for a few minutes. 

You and Luke playfully danced around one another on the short stroll, talking about anything and everything while you walk through the woods.

Soon, you reached the open building, the stain glass windows casting a colorful glow. You peer inside to see a blond teen, looking around twelve years old, arguing with Dionysius.

“Peter Johnson is here!” The drunk croaked out, and the two counselors made sure to swoop in. 

“Percy, Right?” You said, slightly a little too enthusiastic for 8am on a Tuesday morning.

“Yeah. At least someone around here can get my name right.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry about that. He can be a little.. chaotic. I’m Y/N, counselor of Demeter Cabin, and this is Luke, counselor of Hermes Cabin. We can give you a tour, if you want.” You explained, gesturing towards Luke who gave a friendly smile.

“Yeah, sure.” The blond boy replied.

-

“And this is Hermes Cabin, where you’ll be staying.” Luke exclaimed, pointing to the rough looking room.

“Uh, no offense, but why am I staying here?” Percy asked, disgust lingering in his words as he stared down the messy bunks.

“Uh, Offense taken. First of all, we’re definitely the best cabin of all time. And all unclaimed campers stay here, along with children of minor Gods.” The brunette said.

“Hate to break it to you Luke, but Demeter absolutely solos your Cabin.” You cut in, mouth letting out a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Slow your roll there. Your cabin may be neat, but the amount of plants in there is slightly concerning.” Luke joked, you and him now unknowingly engaged in your own little conversation.

“It’s better than your pig pen!” You shouted, your sweet laugh echoing throughout the area.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied, and Percy took a step back, running into an older teen, staring at the “friends” who were flirting right before everyone.

“Do they always act like this?” He asked, referring to their nonstop conversations, and their slight physical touch. Your fleshy fingers were somehow always grazing his calloused skin. 

“Always. It’s sickening.” Chris replied.

“Agreed.” Percy sighed out, as Luke looked back at the two. They both gave an encouraging look, telling him to shoot his shot. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go out to the lake tonight? Just us?” He asked you, throat going dry and knees threatening to buckle as he fidgeted with his thumbs.

“I’d love too, Luke.” You replied, blushing as you swayed nervously.

“Great! It’s a date! Unless you don’t want it to be-“ He was quick to start, but you briefly interrupted.

“I’d like that.” 

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[nicarnelian]

as we meet under the blue sky, you smile.

₊˚⊹ featuring: narumi gen x fem! reader

₊˚⊹ summary: the wide blue sky hovers above the both of you as moments of your lives unfold under it, from being children to adults.

₊˚⊹ word count: 1.2k

₊˚⊹ warnings: none! a bit ooc narumi (hES TOO CALM HERE!)

₊˚⊹ author’s note: not beta read! and english is not my main language ;(( anwww, first fic here, and this is in commemoration of his butchered anime design! i had a vision that narumi was this one academic achiever who just wanted praise from a family or his orphanage caretakers (at the very least). anw, the fic is kinda inspired from lilas by sawanohiroyuki! have a great time reading! <3

the moment child! narumi resided in an orphanage, he spent months crafting himself to become his utmost best. he amassed medals and certificates left and right from numerous competitions. the other children would often describe him as a "monster" with his obsession with awards; however, narumi had always thought that maybe, just maybe, someone would recognize his efforts, applaud him, and perhaps praise him on all of his achievements.

but, the moment he had come to realize that it were efforts that the world had valued rather than the ends of such, narumi... simply stopped caring altogether.

he snapped out of his daze once he felt something heavy dangling on his neck. a medal. again. ah... yes, he won a competition. again.

he heard a swift 'congratulations!' from the same bearded-man who placed that medal on him. quickly, though, the adult turned his attention to the boy beside narumi. second runner up, the placard read. yet, the sobbing boy was showered with more compliments than narumi ever received in his whole life.

why do i have to work hard just for nothing? he often asked himself, staring at yet another medal he would likely shove into his bag after the ceremony. he took a glimpse at the scene of the bearded-man and his rivals beside him. narumi looked down towards the floor and glanced towards the blue sky outside the windows, forcing himself to distract his weary eyes. after the ceremony, he ran away towards the orphanage.

basking in the orange sunset as the blue sky was no more, the children often ran around the playground, playing with all of the caretakers. but, narumi preferred to either: one, study lectures or practice sports until he deems it enough and two, if he's doing nothing he would rather stay on his bed and contemplate about his seemingly hopeless life. and, narumi chose the latter today.

he sat on his bed with his back against the bed’s headboard; then, he pulled his knees close to his chest. narumi stared at his bag lying at the foot of his bed, the medal inside teasing him with its golden shine. he heaved a sigh, and buried his head on his knees. i'm hopeless...

he was drowning himself with anxiety as he catastrophized his situation dreadfully. not until he felt someone poking his arm. he looked up and saw a girl, probably younger or the same age as him.

"what?" narumi said. his gaze lingering on her as he noticed she was hiding something behind her back. you flinched under his scrutinous eyes, and hurriedly laid a piece of cupcake on his bed.

his eyes widened at the treat, and stared back at you. you easily flinch whenever he looks at you. the comments that people would say about him created this untouchable and unbreakable impression that others had on him, making people tend to avoid him. but, you were trying to break through that barrier. you mustered up all of your courage and squeaked, "congratulations!" with a nervous smile plastered on your face.

and narumi could read you like an open book. you were too nervous around him, were you blackmailed or forced to this? he thinks. but, for some reason, he felt warm with this small gesture and... he smiled. a rare, soft one.

you slipped into his life and made it better, which he wouldn't admit outloud. while he still busied himself, creating walls of that would hide his vulnerability in secrecy, you were the only person he had shown every side of him to. you had helped him understand himself more, helped him appreciate himself more.

the both of you would often be together after gifting him that cupcake. he would play swing with you, almost tossing you to the air, and earning gentle scolds. he would also read you stories and teach you from time to time. and, he would also talk about how he did not know what he wanted to be in the future, while you, in the otherhand, clumsily attempted to recreate hikari shinomiya's salutes — narumi hardly cared because he doesn't know the person, as you persistently expressed yourself to be a "commander of blahblahblah division."

a few years passed and it was a pleasant day, with the blue sky hovering above, and trucks of the defense force lined up, deploying new faces of new soldiers to japan's defense force base — and present! narumi thought your posture and stance improved.

he smiled as you saluted a couple of meters in front of him. in a few months after breaking into narumi's small life and becoming close with him, you were adopted.

he remembered how you cried and latched to him, as you did not want to leave him. he gave you one, last tight hug before forcing your hands to let his shirt go. he gave your forehead a little, haste peck — something he never did to anyone; but, would never regret doing to you.

it would take more than a decade to pass before meeting with him again. you lived and trained overseas and came back to japan as a representative of another country with a rank of official commander with your very own division.

"narumi, remember to show respect. she has one of the highest released forces in their defense force. their heart and brain. her name's—" hasegawa began to introduce you, but narumi cut him off. the names of other officials held little interest for the first division commander, which was why hasegawa rushed to introduce you and your background to him.

but, he would never overlook those defining features no matter how much they’ve matured — his mind would subtly draw you in his dreams at night as well.

he glanced between you and the man beside you, whom he assumed was your vice-captain, and began walking towards your direction, catching hasegawa off guard with his sudden movement as narumi closed the distance between both of you.

narumi, towering over you by a head, returned your salute and introduced himself for formalities, "commander of the first division, narumi gen."

and, you don't have to introduce yourself because narumi forced himself to never forget you. he etched every single detail and memory he had of and with you in his mind. he could not afford to forget you; he would loathe himself if he did.

you smiled at his introduction and thought, it really is him. "commander of the second division, y/n l/n."

the both of you stare at each other, with many years to catch up with, and perhaps, more of which to create memories and stand by each other until the end of time.

"it has been a while, hasn't it, narumi-kun?”

under the blue sky and the cool breeze playing between you, your voice unconsciously made narumi softened, who smiled and nodded immediately to your words without a moment's hesitation. "it truly has."

the sky bore the same shade of blue as it did during narumi's first interaction with you, when you left him, and now as you reunited and smiled with each other once again, as commanders.

[wonderlandwalker]

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it. 

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything. 

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to. 

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone. 

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned. 

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had  a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment. 

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue. 

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of. 

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too" 

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there. 

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go" 

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him. 

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it. 

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat. 

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him. 

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk  and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

[targwife]

CRUSH - MALACHY GRANGER

summary: getting trapped by a storm over at the boathut leads to a night-in with an older guy working at the jetty. cw: pure filth, age gap, pinv, porn with barely any plot, english isn't my first language! not proof read. wordcount: 4,293

The cold prickled at your skin as you finished tying up the boats to the jetty pegs, saying your goodbyes to the last customers; tourists who were willing to pay a pretty penny to rent a wooden craft and pretend to live the fishing town-local experience. as annoying as they were, they allowed you to get this summer job at the dock while waiting for your last year of school. as you pulled out your blackberry to check the time, 10 pm, rain began to drip down softly, but summer storms never remained light for long.

You ran for the protection of the boat hut in a hurry, going to look for any actual fishermen still working or at least the keys to the little house upstairs, you lived nearby enough to get just fine without a car normally but walking wouldn’t do in this weather.

“Get lost we’re done for the day” A gruff, thickly accented voice sounded from behind a couple of upright boats that were getting fixed up.

You couldn’t help but scoff out a laugh at his terrible attitude “I’m not a tourist” The rain began downpouring outside the posts of the boat hut.

“You’re the girl Arj got renting out the boats?” You finally saw him, a man about 8 or 9 years your senior, his face unshaven with his hair a dark blond, his clothes were dark and baggy and practical for his job, slightly dirtied up by this time after hours of work.

You nodded, focusing involuntarily on the way he rubbed his hands clean on a rag, staining it with the dark motor oil he got on them while working, they looked strong and used, not at all like your last boyfriend’s; All soft and new, if a scratch got on them, it was from football practice.

He extended one of them to you, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Malachy”.

You finally realized who he was when you heard him call his name, Arj had mentioned him a few times, said he usually worked late hours after his shifts at the factory so you wouldn’t see much of him. You told him your name and he repeated it as you shook his hand. “Bit of a situation we got ourselves in, aye?” When he spoke those words you realized the rain wouldn’t stop for hours and you cursed yourself. “Or maybe not, won’t your daddy come pick you up?”

“Dad’s out of town” You should have focused on defending yourself against his mocking before responding but you were so worried about being trapped in there the whole night.

He clicked his tongue “That’s tuff” Malachy spoke nonchalantly as he got done with his job putting his tools away messily. “Don’t look at me all sad, my brother’s got the car tonight, can’t take you ‘ome” He told you when he saw your wide-eyed, distressed face.

“Do you mean for me to sleep on a boat?” You told him slightly bewildered at his lack of care for the situation, you were locked at the edge of town by the rain with no car.

He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a pair of keys, not really bothered by your attitude, when compared with Amy you seemed like a total sweetheart “Go upstairs, I still got to test out this one-” he pointed with the keys to one of the boats behind him “-out on the water so I still have a while left” You took them when he handed them over and smiled extremely thankful “I’ll leave as soon as the rain stops” You assured Malachy, who was already getting the boat down from the suspension, a small sigh of effort escaping his lips as he pulled on the rusty lever “Sleep tight, then”.

You sat on the counter with your legs crossed, one hanging lazily from it, you had put your hair up as soon as you arrived and had changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt you found in a neat little pile with clothes of a few different sizes and styles, they seemed a mix from friends staying over and «missing items» that would probably end up getting turned into rags anyway. as you sipped on some instant coffee from the only clean mug you could find, not wanting to fall asleep out of self-preservation instincts, you looked around the studio that was the boat hut; A few string lights and neon «cafe» sign illuminated the room in an odd mix of oranges and pinks and reds. Down in front of the small utilitarian kitchen was an old red couch as well as a black leather one by another wall, the bed in the corner behind some string beads and curtains was placed on the floor with a messy array of mismatched bed sheets on top. It was comfortable, you thought, especially as the rain battled against the window right in front of you, mixing with the sound of the CD you had found already in the boombox, music from the late 90s played on it and you could imagine malachy recording it back on his high school days just right.

The door opened and in came Malachy, he had his hood on to protect him from the rain, the off-color fabric darkened to pitch black from it. He looked at you while he kicked out his shoes and searched around his pockets, successfully pulling out a fag from the small box. “Comfortable, are we?”.

You smiled a bit, it’s not that you were shy, but staying the night over at this place with him took away your wits a bit “I thought you weren’t coming by now” You confessed while reaching for one of the upper open cabinets, remembering seeing an ashtray when you looked for the mug, when you found it you got up from the counter and placed it on a small coffee table, he simply nodded at you and lit his cig, sitting down on the red sofa for a smoke after work, his eyes closing softly as he leaned back on it, tired.

“You need a back massage?” You offered amused, staring intently as he stretched his neck after pulling his hood down.

“’M trying to do as many hours as possible” He explained, his fag hanging from his mouth after he blew the smoke “Saving up to leave town one day” You scoffed with a mocking smile, leaning against the counter and setting down your coffee. “What’s so funny?”.

“Everyone says that but no one ever leaves” He looked at you, wanting to deny your words and get angry at your claims, but he just smiled and shook the ash from his cig leaning over to the tray, finding you interesting enough.

“Do you mean to stay here forever?”

“It’s kinda pretty, I think” Malachy listened intently to you and it made you lick your lips before continuing “Being born and dying in the same place, you know? Like a full circle”

“I just find it sad to be honest” As he saw the way you pursed your lips at his answer Mack realized how nice you looked, you were far from the first girl the brothers brought up to the boathouse, but, still, he knew a pretty girl when he saw one and the red glow from that stupid neon sign they got years ago, back when they meant to make the hut a cafe made him stare a few seconds, a smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s because boys can never see the pretty things in life” You retaliated, he liked the irony of your timing, but he just took another breather of his fag before answering.

“I’m not a boy, you know”

You two had been talking for over two hours by now, the rain long one, still, neither of you said anything about it as you spoke about your stupid hopes and dreams or joked about the silliest things, you learned a few things about him; He had been working for ten years and he was 26 now, he had been trying to break up with this girl you went to school with, amy knightly, the boat hut used to be his father’s before him but now Arj ran it mostly and he had a dog back at her mom’s house, a retriever mutt he got at 18.

The more you listened the closer you wanted to be to him, maybe it was the multiple beers you both were having after he asked you to get him one from the fridge, or maybe it was how you just kept noticing how attractive he was, sitting beside him on the couch you could see his reddened eyes, nose and lips and darkened under eyes from being out on his boat, the way he smelled like sea salt and his cigarettes and a sweet woody musk from the wood varnish used on his craft, it was intensely masculine and captivating and you couldn’t get enough.

“If you want me to fuck you just say it” You snapped back realizing in half-drunken embarrassment the lewd way you had been eyeing him since you got up for your fourth beer of the night.

You walked back to the couch, setting the drink on the coffee table with a tight-lipped smile, a mix of embarrassment and a terrible quip brewing up “You realize not every high schooler wants to fuck you, right?” You gave Mack a giddy smile as his fell, throwing a pillow at you while you laughed at his bothered expression.

“Don’t be an arsehole, mhm?” He said, taking a swig of his beer while looking at you right after, his blue eyes were burning your skin and you felt the heat all over you as he bulged his tongue against his cheek still annoyed but slightly amused.

You got up to throw away the bottles as Malachy was trying to ready up the couch to sleep, your mind was just clear enough to perform the simple task but as you were walking back to him the drinks caught up to you, tripping against the coffee table; mack quickly reacted, one hand going to your shoulder as another held onto your waist, keeping you upright before you had time to fall, you felt his breathing coming over you as you lifted your head to look at him, you swallowed thickly at the view, his messed up hair from the zip-up hoodie and tightly closed lips as he breathed through his nose regularly, seemingly unbothered by the closeness, you could feel his rough jeans on your bare legs and his hands didn’t let go of you.

Those seconds felt like ages, the pinning for each other hurt as you both held eye contact, he licked his lips without saying a word, trying to hide his small smirk as his hand snaked from your shoulder to the side of your neck his fingers tangling in the loose hairs from the ponytail, the touch of his hands on bare skin was exactly as you imagined, hot and rough as were his lips when they crashed against yours without needing a word, your hands went up to his waist trying to close any remaining distance between you, pulling him until his pelvis leaned against your body.

Your knees went weak as he kissed you, it was nothing like the sloppy mess you were used to with the boys in your class, Mack seemed so experienced and skilled that it made ideas run wild in your mind, completely ignoring the repercussions this might bring.

He smiled as you both tore apart for air, a breathy chuckle parted his lips in a way that had you gawking at him like a schoolgirl, though you supposed that was indeed what you were. “This is so wrong” You spoke with a slight laugh, getting so red your skin felt warm.

“You wanna stop?” He spoke still a bit breathless just like you, looking into your eyes for any sort of doubt, you saw pure mischief in his face as you shook your head no, his smile seemed so mocking that it made you feel in danger, though the feeling went away as soon as he backed down to the couch, dragging your wrist to make you come onto his lap, which you obeyed without resistance.

As you climbed up his lap his hands came under your shirt, almost giving you goosebumps. “You’re so fucking pretty” He almost whispered as he recalled your words from earlier, his accent making his already gruff voice reverberate in your head, or at least that’s what it felt like to you in your mesmerized, tipsy state.

You kissed his lips again, one hand on the wall behind the couch and another tangled in his short hair, Malachy traced your body with his, aching to get rid of the excess fabric. “You’re so desperate”.

“I don’t like waiting” Satisfied with his response, you raised up, your body still sitting on his crotch, and removed your top in haste. You had piled your bra away with the rest of your clothes and Mack seemed rather happy about it, that smug, intimidatingly handsome smile on his face has he saw you exposed, the palm of his hand cupping your right breast as his thumb teased your nibble with its pad.

“Be fair with me…” You begged, rolling your hips as you sat down with a bit more pressure. The light falling over your face and the back of his neck was blue and silver with moonlight and streetlights while your body and his face were silhouetted in the red neon sign, he looked so perfect to you as he parted his lips when he felt your contact, quickly paying attention to your words as he sat up to remove his zip-up and shirt.

Broad and strong and not overly defined, with a happy trail of light hair that ran from his belly button all the way beneath his denim, his body was just as you expected, as seemingly all of him was; a reliable, traditional man who worked from dusk till dawn and came home to fuck you silly before repeating the routine. You liked that it wasn’t all guessing and assuming like with the boys, it was easy to lose yourself to him.

After an eternity of a soft back and forth on his lap, feeling each sigh he gave you, his eyes never leaving yours, you could tell that he was getting impatient.

“Let’s get you out of those, yeah?” He coddled you in that voice oh his that made thinking difficult, his fingers doing quick work of the tie front of the cotton lounging shorts, you saw him smile to himself as he dragged them down hurriedly, especially when you got up just to remove them, leaning forward to put a supporting hand on his thigh as you stepped out of them.

As much as the way his big eyes looked up at you demanding for you to get on him instantly, you smiled softly as you shimmied out of your day-of-the-week undies, which he noticed with a smiling scoff. His eyes trailed up your legs as these fell to the floor and continued up your whole naked form.

“You’re not Arj’s girl, are you?” He asked as you came back onto him and his hands went up the backs of your thighs to your ass, it’s not that he would stop at this point, but it would be nice to know.

You shook no with a sweet little smile, you could feel him bulge against his jeans in a way that felt delicious as you stirred on his lap. “Just his employee”.

He nodded amused, leaning his head back as he felt you probably staining his work clothes, not that he cared right now “He better don’t find out then, yeah?”

Malachy knew your response as you began to mess with the button on his pants, he was a bit less drunk, so he easily got rid of them enough for you to trace a finger down his hardened but domestic belly. it sent a shiver down his spine and if you weren’t so focused on getting into his pants you would have gotten the same as he left out a low, elongated curse out his lips when you palmed him over his boxer briefs.

Even though he found it quite cute when you almost tripped over yourself trying to get rid of his jeans and briefs, Mack felt a tang of responsibility as he looked at your worried pout; He was bigger than any of the boys you had been with, granted they weren’t huge, but he made it hard not to notice, dizzyingly long and girthy, it wasn’t overly veiny but just enough, he had a few moles on the base and you smiled sheepishly as you took it into your hand and noticed another on its thick tip.

He took your wrist and brought your hand up midway, spitting on it without any need for words. As you kept up eye contact you wrapped your hand around him, the look on his face was electrifying as if the only thing you ever wanted to do was pleasing him.

You started moving your hand up and down with a repetitive rhythm, focusing on his reactions; Sights and small words of praise that almost sounded like whispers, you were thankful for the slickness the spit gave you as you could just be delighted by staring at how he leaned his hand back in sheer pleasure, it was perfect.

He seemed to last more than the boys, too, you noticed how he kept his breathing almost regular and how his focus was on you the entire time, making you crave him even more. You hurried up your movements, trying to get to see him getting that sweet release, instead, he just held your wrist again, not fully stopping you, “Don’t fucking do that” This time his expression was like that of someone scolding a puppy.

“I just want you to feel good, Mack” You didn’t know if it was the nickname or your pathetic tone, but Malachy grabbed your thighs and brought you closer to him, letting go of your arm.

He turned to his jeans that were sprawled on the armrest of the sofa and from his back pocket he pulled out his wallet, you smiled. “Tis back practice to keep condoms in your wallet, you know? Makes them not last as long” He looked at you with a frown on his brow and a slight smile, he found you incredibly attractive, he would risk another thousand arguments with Amy for you if he didn’t.

“If you want me to I could just ditch it” You couldn’t help but give a breathy little laugh at his simplicity, weakened by the way his voice sounded now, all hoarse and already a bit spent.

You took the condom from his hand and made quick work of it, biting the inside of your cheek as you did it, a simple gesture of concentration that made him so impatient for being inside of you.

Not that he had to wait for long, you took him in your hand and rubbed it against your core in a way that made you close your eyes to avoid any moans from escaping you.

Malachy however, wanting so desperately to hear you that it was almost painful, grabbing a handful of the soft part of your hip as he grabbed himself over your soft hand, guiding it inside in a pleasurable slowness.

“Fuck... you’re soaked” You felt the heat on your face at his words that sounded more like a praise, but you couldn’t answer, even if you weren’t yet pressed against him the stretch from his thickness felt incredible, making you hold on with one hand onto his cheek to make him look at your face, wanting him to see how he was making you feel.

He did see it, his lips parted open and his eyebrows frowned, neither even daring to make a sound as you readjusted yourself, sitting flush against him.

It took you a few moments to even try to move, fearing that it would hurt and distract you from the tight knot beginning in your belly. Malachy tore his eyes away from you for the first time since he got inside of you, his gaze went downwards and the embarrassment you felt only made you slicker with the premise of doing something forbidden; this older, lowlife stranger was seeing all of you and was about to fuck you silly for all that’s worth, and for some reason you trusted him all the more, you felt incredibly good just like this.

The hand that had been teasing your tits moved down with confidence, Mack placed it flat against your belly and began rubbing the slowest circles on your clit with his thumb, it was a teasing, torturous pleasure that made you moan softly as you began moving on him, barely at first, drawing delicious moans from him, who let once again his head backward, his eyes closed trying to focus on the tight, warm feeling that drove him crazy.

It wasn’t long until you needed more, supporting yourself on his thick, muscular thighs behind you as you began increasing your movements, malachy looked back up at you and you felt like he would eat you up right there and then, his waterline was reddened by the lack of sleep and it made him look feral, he kept his fingers on you and his lips slightly parted, groaning gruffly rather than moaning by know, especially as you kept increasing the pace, desperately searching for the release you still felt so far away from.

Mack wasn’t one for passionate sex but he wouldn’t keep his free hand from caressing you, his warm, rough hand holding your waist doing a number on your head.

“I need more” You begged him and you were barely given any time to react before you felt him moving his arms around you, you would have complained about the lost stimulation if it wasn't for the way he laid you on your back on the sofa with your head on the armrest and your hips off the fabric, being hoisted up by his strong arms and thighs.

“You’re making me mad” He admitted almost smiling, the sight of your naked body underneath his did make him go mad, quickly going back to your rhythm and soon after increasing it, it became a pounding that made you move on the couch, his abdomen crashing against your bud on each stroke of his tight, strong hips, his hand supporting him on your belly as he moved mercilessly by the time all the pain was gone, leaving being the sting of being stretched over and over by him, who kept his brows low as he looked at you almost underneath them, he would’ve been scary any other night on the dock but your luck had you holding on to the red sofa as he rammed into you with an animalistic, repetitive motion.

He wasn’t loud but didn’t care for keeping quiet either while you were sure to be giving him a show with your shaky moans from the constant feeling of him almost leaving you before going all the way back inside, it was maddening and your eyes were about to roll back in your skull when he grabbed hold of your ankle to bend your knee further, opening you even more to him.

Malachy had great endurance while you were still inexperienced, especially when it came to coming while doing it, you were sweating and gasping, begging for him to keep going, while he kept his gaze on you letting gasps and sighs leave his lips with the occasional moan, it only made you even more eager for him as the sounds mixed in the lewdest way with the one coming from your bodies crashing, especially given how wet you were for him, which he noticed in his almost out of breath praisings of you and your body.

It didn’t take long for him to make a mess out of you, barely knowing how to mumble for him to go slower, as he was about to make you come; if he heard you or not was up for debate, but he didn’t pay you any mind, feeling the way you tightened around his cock and groaning in return as you squeezed his arm for any kind of support, your eyes rolling back as you arched on the pillows coming around him.

It didn’t make him stop yet, as he tightened his grip around your ankle for leverage and continued fucking into you for long enough to make you clench around him again and again, overly sensitive and teary-eyed from your release.

He couldn’t keep going for much longer after that, even if he adored towering over your fucked-out form, he came with a deep, gruff moan that had your mouth agape and your hand patting around for his arm just so you could pull on it, bringing him down to your face to kiss him softly, which he answered with a tired smile.

It was raining again outside and the both of you couldn’t help but laugh as he scooped you up to move over to the bed though the sky was already a very light blue.

dividers credits: @cafekitsune taglist: @sadpuffpuff @sidrhds @forgetcakes

this is my first story in a loong time so i'm very nervy. would love some feedback!

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x short!gn!reader (no prns)

request: i’m loving your works omgg sooo i have a request for vice captain hoshina! can you do one where soshiro and reader are holding a training session together and they’re sparring rookies and they’re both just staring at each other cause damn why’s my s/o so fine while fighting? fem reader who’s a captain or higher rank would be so cool hehealso bonus points if the rookies ask soshiro and reader to spar against each other and they do! 

warnings: rather small and short reader, i had written it with a fem reader in mind like you had mentioned but i realized there were no actual fem terms used (or prns) so i tagged it as gn! however the reader is described to be rather short with a small build, TYSM FOR THE REQ !! so sorry it took so long to get to !!!!

wc: 1300

It wasn’t like Hoshina to space out during work, but he knew this would happen the moment they assigned the two of you to help with sparring trainings together. Watching you spar, he just wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you— it was truly beyond his control, unfortunately.

“Uh, Vice-Captain,” the next one in line said, trying to get his attention. It was Iharu.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, snapping out of it finally and focusing on the officer in front of him. “Alright, whenever you're ready.”

Now, once he had started sparring, his full attention was on his opponent. He would never spar with anyone distracted if they wished for it to be serious— not even a kid. He'd move quickly and swiftly, precisely hitting Iharu wherever he showed any openings. When Hoshina sparred, it was usually over before the opponent knew it. Iharu would be on the ground and Hoshina would have his arm by his neck to show what would've happened if he had a sword. It was beautiful, to say the least.

Iharu’s eyes were wide in shock— he knew Hoshina was strong, but he thought he'd be able to do a little more.

“Iharu, you need to calm down a little more,” he said.

“I know, I need to think a few steps further and I just—,” he started to explain.

“No, I can tell you're trying to think ahead. However, you're stressing out over that way too much. I’m sure you're trying not to move only by instinct, which is definitely a good idea, but sometimes I think you can trust your gut a little. Calm down, I'll guide you a little more next round,” he said.

“Thank you,” Iharu said, grateful of the feedback and quickly moved to the back of the line again.

Now, his eyes were on you again. They always were. You were going against Aoi, and it was truly a sight to see. You weren't all that tall, rather short if anything compared to all these tall men, and definitely far shorter than Aoi, but that wasn't going to hold you back. Not one bit.

The way you'd move swiftly but confidently always made him beam. It wasn't like you were doing anything flashy, or insane, it was just every move you did had a purpose. With absolutely no unnecessary movements, your every move was precise.

It was rather obvious that Aoi had subconsciously let his guard down from the difference in your builds, even if he didn't mean to at all. Though that only lasted a few seconds. Immediately, he knew you were leagues above him. You'd observe so carefully— predicting his next move, watching for cues, reacting on time. There was so much thinking you did while you sparred, but it worked so well for you, and when you succeeded in such a method, it truly looked like magic from afar. Quick and precise dodges, a jab in the slightest opening, a swift hit where it was least unexpected (or rather, seemed impossible for do).

And Hoshina loved watching you spar. Because you looked so thrilled doing so. You seemed to be having just as much fun as he was excited to watch you fight. Of course, he loved the pure skill in your craft that you had acquired through loads and loads of effort, but he loved how you looked so excited sparring someone new. How you jumped around in seemingly glee and not just the calculated steps you made. 

You were so attractive when you sparred, he was afraid all these new officers would fall for you after this.

Your sparring with Aoi was over soon enough, and he finally realized how long he was spaced out for.

“Sorry, I'll get it together,” he said to the next officer in line, but they were all looking at your match too. Just watching.

Perhaps it was mesmerising to see someone with a smaller build show absolutely no disadvantages you faced, even if there probably were many. Or rather, inspiring, might be the word.

“It feels like I watched a magic show on one end,” Reno said to Hoshina. He was next.

“Doesn’t it?” Hoshina replied, rather smug, which perplexed Reno.

“Entranced by me, over there?” you teased from the lack of, well, sparring happening in Hoshina’s line.

“Bullseye, I fear,” Hoshina replied, to which you blushed a little. He wasn't one to reply so genuinely with so many people around.

“Oh, shut up, get to work,” you said, immediately feeling slightly flustered. “Next!”

“Is that how you talk to your Vice-Captain, Platoon Leader (L/n)?” he asked and you jutted your lips out in frustration. So now you were Platoon Leader (L/n).

“Apologies, Vice-captain,” you said.

“Hmm… what should I make you do,” he pondered out loud. You didn't think he'd actually make you do something. “You should spar with me.”

You blinked. “You could just ask normally, you know?”

“Shut up, you're no fun,” he said.

“Alright, I'll spar you later,” you said.

“Woo-hoo!” he said and that made you laugh. You were feeling rather ‘woo-hoo!’ about sparring him too. It's been a while since you had done so.

He was actually far more excited than he'd like to admit. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than watching you spar, it definitely had to be sparring against you. As soon as the training was complete and everyone had the advice they needed, it was finally time for you.

“Would it be okay if I watched?” Reno asked, and you grinned.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Make sure you go spread around that I absolutely beat his ass later.”

“Beat who now?” Hoshina asked, but you just smiled.

After all this time working and sparring with him, you had only actually beat him once. Perhaps today would be your second.

“Whenever you're ready,” he said and you sneered. You got the first move. You stayed low, keeping yourself small. Hoshina specialized in going against smaller kaiju, but they were all still larger than him. Even when he sparred, he wasn't the tallest nor the largest, so it wasn't often he sparred with someone smaller than him.

After a few seconds you jumped right back. You remembered to breathe. Hoshina was a horrible opponent for you because you centered your moves on openings you could observe, but Hoshina hardly had any openings to begin with, and the ones he did have were far too fast to deal with. You'd have to focus more than ever. You took another deep breath again.

“Okay, I'll go ahead then,” he said. You had to force yourself to relax. It was just human instinct to stiffen at the sight of him coming at you. Relax, but stay focused.

He knew you'd stay low so he kept his body rather low too, but everything was terrifyingly fast. However, as time went on you found yourself focusing better and finally you managed to land a hit on him. You both took a step back, catching the breath you didn't realize you had lost.

Again, without a word, the two of you started to spar again. This went on and on until finally your knees hit the floor and you didn't seem to have the strength to stand.

“Ugh,” you said, frustrated. You flopped onto the floor and lied down, the exhaustion immediately catching up to you.

There were still a few around who had stayed to watch, but it was as if he didn't remember. Or didn't care.

“Love,” he said, crouching down by your side to face you. His eyes were wide and he had a smile he couldn't hide. He looked absolutely in love with you, to which you had to blush at. “Wanna go again?”

You laughed. You could hardly even stand.

“Absolutely.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Concert with a Twist

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n eagerly anticipates attending a Taylor Swift concert in Vienna with her husband, Toto Wolff. Their plans are disrupted by the concert's cancellation. Toto arranges a surprise for her.

Warnings: non

One shot Masterlist

Don't be shy to ask me for a One Shot I would be happy to write it.

______________________________________________________________

The anticipation was electric. Y/n had been eagerly counting down the days until Taylor Swift’s concert in Vienna. As a long-time fan of the pop star, the concert was a dream come true. Toto Wolff, her husband, had agreed to join her despite not being particularly interested in the pop star himself. His primary goal was to see Y/n happy, and he had been looking forward to their trip to Vienna, which would also serve as a chance to visit his children, Benedict and Rosa, from his first marriage.

Vienna was a special place for Toto. The trip was intended to be a blend of personal and professional—a visit to Vienna’s historic sites, quality time with family, and a glamorous concert experience.

In the days leading up to the concert, Y/n’s excitement was palpable. She spent hours curating the perfect outfit, envisioning herself amidst the crowd, singing along to her favorite songs. She had chosen a stunning ensemble for the evening: a shimmering silver dress that hugged her figure perfectly, complemented by elegant high-heeled sandals. Her accessories included delicate silver jewelry that sparkled under the light, and she planned to carry a chic clutch that completed her sophisticated look.

The dress was a statement piece, reflecting her love for Taylor Swift’s bold and glamorous style. As she laid out her outfit on the bed, she could almost feel the energy of the concert night. She imagined herself dancing and singing along with thousands of other fans, the music filling the air and the lights creating a magical atmosphere.

Two days before their departure from Monaco, disaster struck. The news shattered their excitement. A credible terror plot targeting the concert venue was uncovered. Authorities canceled the event for security reasons. Y/n’s heart sank as she processed the news; the concert she had been dreaming of was suddenly out of reach.

Toto noticed Y/n’s distress and took her hands in his. "I’m so sorry, Y/n. I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n forced a smile, her eyes misty. "I just can’t believe it. I was so looking forward to this."

Toto, seeing her disappointment, felt a pang of guilt. He had agreed to the trip mainly to support her excitement for the concert, but now that it was canceled, he felt a stronger resolve to make their trip memorable. The Vienna visit was important for him as well, but he knew the concert was a significant part for Y/n.

"How about we still make the most of our time in Vienna?" Toto suggested, trying to sound upbeat. "We can focus on visiting Benedict and Rosa, spending time together, and exploring the city. And we’ll find a way to make it special for you."

Y/n looked at him, her curiosity piqued. "What do you have in mind?"

Toto just smiled mysteriously. "You’ll see. Trust me."

The day of what would have been the concert arrived. Y/n and Toto met up with Benedict and Rosa, who were excited to see them. Benedict and Rosa had always seen Y/n as a good friend and mother figure, and their relationship was warm and affectionate.

They decided to make the most of their time together and explore the city. The morning began with a visit to Schönbrunn Palace. The baroque architecture and meticulously landscaped gardens were breathtaking. Y/n tried to immerse herself in the beauty around her, but the thought of the canceled concert lingered in the back of her mind. Toto, Benedict, and Rosa noticed her occasional distraction and made a concerted effort to keep her spirits high.

"Y/n, look at this!" Benedict called out, pointing to an ornate fountain. "Isn’t it amazing? The craftsmanship is incredible."

Y/n smiled and joined him, appreciating his effort to engage her. "It’s beautiful. I’ve always loved the details in these old structures."

Rosa linked arms with Y/n as they strolled through the gardens. "How about we grab some coffee and cake at a local café? Vienna is famous for its coffee houses, and I know just the place."

Y/n nodded, grateful for the distraction. "That sounds lovely, Rosa. I’d like that."

They spent the afternoon at Café Central, enjoying delicious pastries and rich coffee. The atmosphere was lively, with the hum of conversation and the clinking of porcelain. Y/n felt a bit more at ease, the warmth of the café and the company of Toto’s children providing comfort.

As the day turned to evening, they visited the Prater, Vienna’s famous amusement park. The giant Ferris wheel offered stunning views of the city, and the playful environment helped lift Y/n’s mood further. They laughed and joked, Toto’s arm around Y/n’s shoulders as they strolled through the park.

Throughout the day, Y/n did her best to hide her disappointment about the concert. She didn’t want to dampen the family’s spirits, but Toto knew her well enough to see through her facade. He decided it was time to unveil his surprise.

That evening, Y/n decided to wear her concert outfit, determined to make the best of the situation. As she slipped into her shimmering silver dress and fastened her high-heeled sandals, she felt a glimmer of the excitement she had felt before. She styled her hair in loose waves and put on her silver jewelry, adding a touch of glamour to the night.

Toto had been secretive about his plans, and Y/n’s curiosity grew as he led her through the hotel. When they reached the ballroom of the Hotel, Toto opened the door, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat.

The room had been transformed into a cozy, elegant space. Soft lighting and a beautifully set table created a romantic ambiance. But what really caught Y/n’s attention was the grand piano in the corner and the microphone stand beside it. A pianist and singer stood ready, their instruments and setup perfectly arranged.

When the first notes of "Love Story" played, Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. She turned to Toto, her eyes shining. "Toto, what is this?"

Toto smiled, taking her hands. "Since we can’t go to the concert, I brought a bit of the concert to us."

Y/n’s heart swelled with emotion. She was speechless as the singer began to perform heartfelt renditions of Taylor Swift’s hits. The intimate setting and Toto’s thoughtful gesture filled her with overwhelming gratitude and love.

As they sat down to enjoy the music, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a wave of happiness wash over her. She danced with Toto, laughing and singing along to the songs that had been the soundtrack to so many of her moments. The private concert turned into a magical evening, filled with love and joy.

After the performance, Y/n turned to Toto, tears of happiness in her eyes. "This is incredible, Toto. I don’t even know how to thank you."

Toto pulled her close, his voice soft. "Seeing you happy is all the thanks I need."

Y/n, still feeling the magic of the evening, leaned in and kissed him deeply. "You always know how to make everything perfect," she whispered against his lips.

They spent the rest of the night talking, reminiscing, and cherishing their time together. The evening had been a heartfelt gesture that Y/n would remember forever.

As they finally went to bed, Y/n snuggled close to Toto. "Thank you for making this trip so special. I love you."

Toto kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Y/n. And I’ll always do whatever it takes to see you smile."

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 6

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, angst, very spicy dancing and sexual themes, mentions of alcohol, jealous!az

Word Count: 8.5k

series masterlist

a/n: the song I imagined them dancing to is Midnight Oil from this playlist.

Enjoy!

“What do you think about this one?” you asked Azriel, who was sitting in the chair next to the dressing room.

He looked up from the magazine he was reading, his hazel eyes raking your body from head to toe, his expression completely neutral. “That one is nice,” he murmured before returning his attention to the magazine.

He had said that about every dress you tried on today.

You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a nice dress. The gown was crafted from emerald green silk that clung and flowed in all the right places. The bodice was tight and adorned with intricate beadwork of delicate, swirling patterns. It featured a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves that showed off your delicate collarbones.

The skirt of the dress billowed out in soft, cascading layers of tulle and silk, and the material gracefully swept against the floor as you turned back to Azriel. “I don’t think it screams masquerade ball, so I’ll keep looking.”

Azriel hummed quietly as he turned the page of the magazine but said nothing. You rolled your eyes in frustration as you picked up the skirt of the dress and walked back into the dressing room, slamming the door behind you.

As you looked at the next dress in the line-up, you leaned against the wall, shoulders sagging as your thoughts took over. The past two days with Azriel had been… awkward. More awkward than when he first arrived on your front lawn.

Ever since Thursday night, since that almost-kiss and that damned nightmare, Az had closed himself off from you completely. He barely laughed at your horrible jokes. He rarely puts in the effort to have a conversation with you.

Hell, he barely looked at you.

It was as if a switch inside of Azriel had been flipped, and you wondered what you could have possibly done to make him so upset. He didn’t ask questions about this world anymore. He just sat on the couch and watched you move around the house, looking more like a ghost than a real person.

Perhaps it was for the best that it was like this. He was going to leave soon, and it was better that the two of you kept your distance from each other.

Still, you couldn’t deny the pang you felt in your heart last night when he had declared he was going to be sleeping on the couch. You had selfishly hoped that when you woke up this morning, he would be in your bed again, with those strong arms wrapped protectively around you.

For the first time in your life, you had hoped for one of those horrible nightmares, knowing that he would come to wake you up again.

I will always come for you, he had promised.

But that was a lie. It was just sweet words he had said to calm you down from your nightmare.

You didn’t remember much from the nightmare you had that night. It was mostly blurry, but you had vague memories of a woman you didn’t know standing over you in a forest. Azriel had been there, holding a black dagger to your throat, his hazel eyes full of rage.

His soft voice had called you back, bringing you back to reality. You remembered him whispering something in a strange language, a word that sounded ancient and foreign. When you had woken up that morning, you had asked him what it meant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It must have been something you heard in the nightmare,” was all he had said.

With another sigh, you reached back to unzip the dress. It slid onto the floor in a pool of green, and you stepped out of it, reaching for the next dress. Your hand paused on the hangar, your body suddenly becoming overwhelmed with a near-crippling exhaustion.

“Fuck it,” you whispered to yourself. You quickly put your clothes back on and grabbed the dress you were about to try on. It was midnight blue with silver adornments, and it looked good enough for a ball. “I’ll just get this one.”

When you emerged from the dressing room with the gown thrown over your arm, Azriel was still in the chair. He had finished reading the magazine, so he was now looking out the window of the tiny shop, observing the traffic zooming by outside.

“I found the one I’m getting,” you mumbled to him as you walked toward the cashier.

Azriel quickly stood and followed you, grabbing the bag that contained the suit he had bought earlier in the day. He hadn’t let you see it on him, of course. He had been in the dressing room for all of three minutes before walking back out in the clothes he originally had on, claiming the suit would work.

You hadn’t let your disappointment show as you paid for the suit, your mind going back to the conversation about trying on dresses and suits for each other. That had been a moment of weakness for the two of you, and the impenetrable wall Azriel had built around himself told you enough.

Nothing like that would ever happen again.

He stood silently behind you as you paid for the dress, watching closely as you inserted your credit card into the reader. “Oh, this dress will look beautiful on you, young lady,” the woman behind the counter said. “That color will complement your skin tone well.”

You looked down at the dress, running your hand over the soft silk. “Thank you,” you replied with a gentle smile.

She glanced over to Azriel, her dark eyes full of amusement. “I think you’re going to like it too, young man,” she said as she winked at him. “It’s very… tight.”

Your eyes widened at her words, wondering what kind of dress you had just purchased. From behind you, Azriel cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll be waiting outside,” was all he said before practically sprinting for the door.

You sighed and turned back to the woman as she finished putting the dress in a bag. She chuckled, glancing out the window to where Azriel now stood on the sidewalk. “Don’t worry,” she said, handing you the bag, “I’ve seen this dress on one of the mannequins. And trust me when I tell you, it’s going to knock him on his ass.”

“Hopefully we’re standing next to some stairs when he falls,” you mumbled as you turned around the leave the shop. Suddenly, you remembered the two of you still needed one last thing for the ball.

“Do you sell masquerade masks here?” you asked the woman, turning around to face her.

The woman smiled and pointed to the back of the store. “This way,” she said, making her way around the corner and gesturing for you to follow. “I think I have just the ones you two need.”

As you followed the woman, your thoughts raced, thinking back to how normal things were a few days ago. You were over this whole ordeal, and you wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

For your heart’s sake, you needed to get it over with as fast as possible.  

You closed your eyes for a moment, ignoring that whispering voice that told you normalcy was a thing you weren’t going to be returning to anytime soon.   

---

“Mom. I know. I know it’s Saturday, but Azriel and I had something really important come up,” you said into the phone you held to your ear.

Azriel listened to the conversation as he watched the buildings go by in the car window. He smiled to himself as he watched a group of young boys playing in the front yard of a house. They reminded him of himself and his brothers when they were younger.

He closed his eyes as the memories of those early years flooded his mind. At the time, he had hated being in that war camp, surrounded by horrible people who were only focused on war and slaughter.

Now, he would do anything to go back.

The past two days had been a whole new hell for Azriel. After that night he spent sleeping in your bed, he had vowed to himself that he could not, would not, let himself get close to you.

He would be going back to Prythian soon, and you deserved better than to be strung along like that. You deserved someone who would be here to love you and take care of you.

So, he had distanced himself, closing himself off in the only way he knew how: silence. He had stopped talking to you and carrying on with your silly conversations. Though he kept his face neutral, his heart had shattered at the look of hurt on your face each time he pointedly ignored you.

Ironically, the very resolve to keep you at more than arm’s length only deepened the ache in his chest, as it illuminated the truth he fought so hard to deny: he was falling in love with you. Even though he had known you for three days, your presence had woven itself into his heart, his being, making the thought of leaving not just painful but almost unbearable.

Yet, his history of unrequited feelings for Mor- a long, torturous path of loving something he could never have- reminded him of his inadequacies in relationships. This reinforced his belief that keeping his feelings hidden was the kindest thing he could do, sparing you both from a future weighed down by impossible choices and inevitable goodbyes.

You deserved better than that. You deserved better than him.

But after seeing you in those beautiful dresses… After witnessing how graceful and powerful you looked… His resolved was wavering. The sight of you, so poised and radiant, made it increasingly difficult for him to maintain the distance he believed was necessary. Each moment he spent near you, each glimpse of your confident, powerful presence, tugged at the fragile threads of his self-control.

He desperately wanted to be selfish and say to hell with it. He wanted nothing more than to laugh with you again and sleep with you in his arms. He wanted to go with you on random adventures in this city, discovering more of the strange occurrences in this world.

He wanted to see those beautiful dimples light up your face again.

But he couldn’t do that, not to you. It was better this way, he reminded himself. It would be easier for you to move on and forget about him when he was gone.

He would be a distant memory for you one day, but he knew, deep down in his cold heart, you would live on actively in his.

“Fine, we’ll be there in five minutes,” you snapped, pressing on the screen of the phone before throwing it into your lap.

Azriel looked over at you with an arched brow. “Everything alright?” he asked, keeping his tone steady.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you stared at the road, your jaw clenching slightly. “It’s Saturday. Family dinner night with my parents,” you said, turning the car onto a different street. “My mom is pissed we’re missing it for this stupid ball.”

Az looked down at his hands, his voice soft as he said, “You don’t have to go to the ball. Just leave me there, and I can take care of it.” He looked over at you and sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours for the first time in two days. “You should spend time with your family. This ball could be a waste of time, anyway.”

You turned your attention back to the road and let out a chuckle. “I said I would help you get back to your world, and I meant it, Azriel,” you said, your tone uncharacteristically sour.

Az bit the inside of his cheek, ignoring the pang in his chest at the sound of his full name coming from your lips. You hadn’t called him “Azzy” in two days, and he suddenly missed the stupid nickname. “Whatever. Have it your way,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to the road.

After a few minutes of tense silence, you pulled the car into a driveway in front of a small, two-story house. The exterior was buttery yellow with white trim, and the wraparound porch was filled with wicker furniture and hanging ferns.

The front yard was meticulously landscaped, with a clean lawn and a variety of flowering shrubs- hydrangeas and azaleas- providing pops of color. A cobblestone path led up to the wooden front door that featured stained glass panels.

You got out of the car, Azriel silently following behind you. He willed his features into kindness, removing any trace of the internal agony he felt. He liked your parents; they were gentle and welcoming. But he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Celeste was standing on the front porch watering some flowers on a small table. She was dressed in a simple pair of khaki trousers, paired with a floral printed shirt. Her kind eyes lit up as she saw Azriel following you up the sidewalk.

“Azriel!” she exclaimed, setting down the watering can before running down the steps. “I was wondering if we were going to see you around again.”

Azriel nodded and forced a smile onto his face. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Fontenot,” he said, remembering an earlier conversation with you about your last name.

“Oh, please. Call me Celeste. If I hear ‘Mrs. Fontenot,’ I expect to turn around and see my students or my mother-in-law,” she said with a bright smile.

“I’m right here, Mom,” you drawled, moving to step between Celeste and Azriel. “Good to see you, too!”

Celeste rolled her eyes and pulled you into a hug. “Stop being so dramatic, Y/N. I’m just glad to see you haven’t run your friend off yet.”

You stepped back, placing your hands on your hips. “And why, pray tell, would I do that?” You glanced back at Azriel with a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “He doesn’t annoy me like the rest of them. Yet.”

You said that last word with enough bitterness that Celeste quickly glanced between the two of you, her gentle eyes squinting slightly.

Az’s shoulders tensed under her intense gaze, and he forced a smile to appear on his face. “You can be annoying, too, you know,” he said, casually throwing his arms around your shoulders. He didn’t miss how you tensed under his arm, your body going taut like a bowstring.

“Well,” Celeste said, that warm smile returning to her face, “as long as you two can put up with each other, then there’s no harm, I guess.”

You swiftly stepped out from under Azriel’s arm, lacing your hands in front of you. “Where’s Dad?” you asked, looking around the front lawn as if you were expecting him to be hiding behind one of the bushes.

Celeste pointed to the house next to them. It was similar to theirs, but it was painted a pale blue, and the landscaping was atrocious. “Over there. He’s helping the new neighbor move in.”

You looked at the house and grimaced. “Didn’t Old Man Bill die in that house?” you asked, taking a step back. “Who would want to live there?”

Celeste sighed. “Old Man Bill was a nice man who always gave you candy as a little girl,” she said, her usually kind tone full of exasperation. “He passed away peacefully in his sleep. Show some respect, Y/N.”

You shivered. “It still gives me the heebie-jeebies,” you muttered, looking over at the house with disdain in your eyes.

Azriel opened his mouth to ask what “heebie-jeebies” meant, but he was interrupted by your father calling out, “Y/N! Azriel! I thought I heard voices over here.”

Az looked over just in time to see Lou walking across the lawn, dressed in dirty brown pants and a ripped shirt. His hair was matted, and his face was covered in grime and sweat.

Azriel’s attention was quickly drawn away from Lou as he looked at the man who followed closely behind. He was wearing a clean pair of black pants with a red shirt, his face notably less dirty and sweaty. His hair was a coppery brown, framing an ordinary face with dark brown eyes.

Despite his insistence on keeping his distance from you, Azriel found himself drifting closer to wear you were standing, his hand barely touching yours.

“Hey, Dad,” you greeted, flinching as Lou tried to pull you into a hug. You stumbled back, your shoulder bumping into Azriel. “Ew, you’re sweaty! That’s gross.”

Lou rolled his eyes, but Azriel didn’t miss the look of hurt on his face. “You work in an emergency room. I’m sure you’ve been covered in worse things.”

“I try to stay away from bodily fluids when I am able, thank you very much,” you snapped back. You turned your attention to the man who had been following Lou, who was now standing next to your mother. “Who are you?”

The man smiled, his face radiating friendliness. “I’m Matthew,” he said cheerfully, extending a hand towards you. Azriel’s body stiffened visibly as he watched Matthew’s hand approach yours. The very sight of another man reaching out to you triggered a sharp, instinctive tightening in his chest. “But please, call me Matt.”  

You smiled back at Matt, and Azriel clenched his jaw as those dimples appeared.

Those dimples were for him, not anybody else.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt,” you said, gesturing a hand over to Azriel. “This is my friend, Azriel.”

Matt’s eyes met his, and Az did absolutely nothing to hide the pure look of intimidation on his face. “Nice to meet you, man,” he said, but he quickly turned his attention back to you, and he smirked as you took a step toward him. His eyes raked up and down your body, and his gaze filled with a hunger that Az knew all too well.

If he kept looking at you like that, Azriel would wipe that fucking smirk off his face. Cut it off, even.

You pointed at the blue house. “You moved in there?” you asked, laughing softly. “A man died in there, you know. Have you seen any ghosts?”

Matt laughed, deep and joyous. “Yeah, your dad told me about Old Man Bill. But no, I haven’t seen any ghosts. Not yet at least.” He winked at you, and Az suddenly wanted to rip the man’s eyeballs out. “I don’t believe in ghosts, anyway. But you’ll be the first to know if I see one.” The smirk returned to his face, and Azriel clenched his fists at his sides.

Lou, who had been watching the whole interaction in silence, clapped Azriel on the shoulder. “So, what brings you two over here?” he asked, tightening his grip enough to make Az look at him.

Lou’s eyes were filled with understanding as Azriel looked at him. I see it, they seemed to say, but Lou kept his silence on the matter.

“I called them here for an explanation on why they wouldn’t be attending family dinner tonight,” Celeste replied, crossing her arms. “You haven’t missed a dinner in ages.”

You finally tore your attention away from Matt. “Azriel and I made plans to go to a party,” you said, looking over at Celeste. “We already RSVP’d, and we can’t get out of it.”

“Oh, a party!” Matt chimed in, tilting his head to the side, his gaze still locked on you. “I do like parties. Do you think they would accept one more?”

Azriel could no longer keep his silence. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and Matt. “You,” he said, his voice like cold death, “will not be attending.”

Matt blinked at him, raising his hands as a form of surrender. “Hey, man. No need to be like that,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s Saturday night. I’m just looking for some fun.”

Celeste placed a hand on Azriel’s arm, gentle enough that it shook him from his rage. “If you don’t have plans, you can have dinner with us, Matt,” she said to him, but her eyes were on Azriel.

She searched his face for a few moments, and he felt utterly bare and exposed under the gaze of a protective mother. “It seems we will have an extra place for you at the table,” she continued, turning away from Az to face Matt, “since Y/N and Azriel will be busy.”

Azriel jumped slightly as he felt your warm hand wrap around his. You pulled him away from Matt, taking a step toward your parked car. “Well, since that’s settled,” you said, hauling Azriel toward the car, “we need to get going.”

Matt waved a hand at you, that smug smile returning to his face. “See you around, Y/N!” he called out as he turned around to head back toward his house. After a few steps, he looked over his shoulder at Azriel, the smile replaced with a mask of cool calm. Matt looked him up and down once, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he sprinted away, disappearing behind the house.  

After a quick wave to Lou and Celeste, you stepped around to your side of the car, opening the door to get in. Azriel was about to pull on the handle, but a hand on his back stopped him. He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Celeste standing there.

She looked at him with that same intense stare as earlier, her voice low as she said, “Keep my daughter safe, Azriel.”

Azriel blinked, wondering if there was any possible way Celeste knew the truth about tonight. At a complete loss for words, he nodded once, his hand tightening on the door handle. “I will.”

The passenger side window rolled down, followed by your annoyed voice. “We don’t have all day, Azriel,” you snapped.

“Go,” Celeste whispered to him, ushering Azriel into the car. “You two have fun tonight,” she said with a smile, leaning down so she was level with the window. All traces of the intensity from a few moments prior were gone. “Call if you need anything.”

You rolled your eyes and reached down to grab the stick at the center of the car. “We will, Mom. I’ll see you next week!” you said as you drove away.

As the car pulled onto the street, Azriel heard Celeste call out a quick “I love you,” but you didn’t respond, your attention fixed solely on the road. He looked in the side mirror, watching as your parent’s house faded into the distance. He smiled to himself as he watched Celeste walk up and kiss Lou, a gesture full of a familiarity and intimacy that Azriel himself longed for.

“You have good parents,” he muttered, looking up at the sky as dark storm clouds gathered along the horizon.

You rolled the window up, your gaze flicking over to him for a moment. “Yeah. They’re great,” you said curtly. “What the hell was that back there? With Matt?’

Azriel shook his head, crossing his arms as he settled against the seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” In truth, he was genuinely perplexed by the intensity of his own reactions. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why seeing you so cheerful and engaged with someone else had sparked such a strong response from him.

Fuck, he needed serious help.  

You huffed a laugh. “You’re insufferable. You know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he drawled, forcing his voice to remain steady, despite his inner turmoil.

You reached down and turned the radio up. The car was filled with loud screeching music that made him want to cover his ears. “Whatever,” you yelled over the music. “Let’s just get through this ball and figure out how to get you back to Prythian. I’m ready for my life to be normal again.”

Azriel sighed, leaning his head against the car window. “Me too,” he whispered, but his words were lost in the music.

---

The Obsidian Manor was truly a sight to behold, even for the city of New Orleans.

It was built with Gothic architecture in mind, with pointed arches, elaborate ironwork, and towering spires that pierced the night sky. Its walls were constructed of dark stone, perhaps basalt, giving it an obsidian-like appearance from which it no doubt derived its name. Large stained-glass windows, mostly in deep hues of purple and red, adorned the manor, casting colorful, spectral patterns on the grounds as you and Azriel made your way up the cobblestone path.

“This place feels very… ominous,” you whispered to Azriel, looking up at the dark sky. It looked as if a storm was rolling in soon.

Azriel hummed in response, his hazel eyes taking in the manor from behind his mask. It was crafted from soft black leather and adorned with silver accents. The design vaguely mimicked the shape of wings, and it had small gemstones embedded along the edges.

It went perfectly with his suit, which caused you to stop breathing for a few seconds when you had first seen him in it.

The suit was black velvet, tailored perfectly to fit his muscular body. Like the mask, it had subtle silver accents lining the sleeves and cuffs, which caught the light each time he moved. Underneath, he wore a crisp, dark gray shirt, paired with a matching vest. On his feet, he wore black leather boots, comfortable yet stylish.

He looked… handsome. Sexy. Amazing. Your brain couldn’t come up with the words to describe how good he looked.

You let out a breath, running your clammy hands down the bodice of your dress. You weren’t a woman who necessarily enjoyed dressing up, but you had to admit, this dress made you look hot.

The gown was floor-length, made from midnight blue silk. It was embellished with silver adornments that sparkled like stars, and it had a flowing train that trailed behind you. The bodice was tight against your body, lifting your breasts in a way that made you feel somewhat self-conscious. It was filled with intricate beadwork and lace detailing, minimal but perfectly designed. The sleeves were sheer and embellished with small crystals that glittered in the streetlights.

You paired the dress with some black stilettos and small, dainty jewelry. You had pulled your hair back into a simple chignon, which showed off the mask perfectly. It was made of fine, black lace and decorated with tiny silver and sapphire stones, a perfect match to Azriel’s.

Even though the two of you hadn’t seen each other in your outfits before putting them on, you had somehow managed to pick ones that correlated perfectly.

“Shall we?” you asked, offering Azriel your arm. He took it, graceful as any courtier, his eyes locked on the entrance of the manor. He had glanced at you once the entire night, which had been when you walked out of your bedroom earlier in the evening.

He hadn’t looked at you since.

You wondered if he liked the dress, but then you quickly reminded yourself that it didn’t matter; he would be out of your life soon enough, and you could forget he even existed.

Or you could try, at least.

Azriel led you up the stone steps leading into the manor, your heels clicking loudly against the stone steps. You were greeted by a doorman, dressed in an immaculate tailored suit, wearing a simple yet elegant masquerade mask.

You silently handed him the invitation. He glanced at it for a few short seconds before saying, “You may enter.” He reached over and twisted the crystal doorknob, pushing the door open slightly. “May the shadows be your guide this evening.”

You smiled at the doorman as you entered the manor, but that smile dissipated as your expression turned into one of awe as you took in your surroundings.

The foyer was large, with high ceilings and elaborate crystal chandeliers. To your right, there was a grand staircase, flanked by large statues of mythical creatures, and you swore you could see their eyes following you as you and Azriel walked.

The foyer led into a grand ballroom, boasting high, vaulted ceilings that were supported by dark columns that rose up like the trunks of ancient trees. More chandeliers hung from above, casting a soft, ambient light that reflected off the polished black marble floor.

Around the edges of the ballroom, heavy velvet curtains in deep purples and blacks were draped over large windows. But a closer look revealed that they weren’t windows at all- they were massive doors, leading out to what looked like balconies.

The ballroom was filled with guests, all dressed in fine attire- gowns shimmering with sequins and beads, suits sharp and well-fitted, every person behind a mask of various shapes and sizes. Waitstaff dressed in discreet black uniforms drifted throughout the crowd, holding platters of food and drinks.

On the far side of the room, there was a large stage, filled with musicians playing soft jazz music. The melodies drifted over to you, and you felt yourself long to dance to the beat. You had always loved dancing, but you reminded yourself that you weren’t here to enjoy the festivities.

You were here to get rid of Azriel.

“Whoever this mistress is,” you murmured to him, pulling your arm out of his, “she knows how to throw a party.”

Azriel glanced around the room, his eyes wary. “Where do you think she is?”

You sighed softly. “If she wants to speak with us, she will show up. Until then, let’s enjoy ourselves.” You glanced over at him with a smile. “After all, this could be our last night together.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but said nothing in response. You didn’t know if this mistress would be of any help. You didn’t even know if she was indeed the person Serena had contacted.

But you had experienced enough strange shit in the last few days to expect the unexpected.

With a hand, you flagged down one of the waiters. He quickly made his way over to you, smiling slightly as he lowered to platter in his hands. “What’ll it be, miss?”

You bit your lip, surveying the various drinks on the platter. “That depends… what do you have?”

The waiter pointed at each drink as he named them. “Champagne, Chardonnay, Ale…” he trailed off, lifting up a glass filled with a dark, shimmering liquid. “And this one. ‘The Obsidian Elixir’ is a specialty drink for the night. Black vodka, crème de cassis, and soda water with blackberry garnish.”

It sounded good enough to you. Besides, you needed something strong to calm your fraying nerves. “We’ll take two, please.”

The waiter smiled as he handed you the drinks. “Enjoy your evening. May the shadows be your guide,” he said before sauntering off to serve the other guests.

As you turned around, you were met with a glare from Azriel. He looked down at the drinks in your hands as he said, “Didn’t anyone teach you not to take drinks from strangers?”

“It’s a ball, Azriel,” you grumbled, forcing one of the drinks into his hand. “Look at how many people are drinking them,” you said, pointing to the crowd full of people with glasses in their hands. “Besides, you’ve been an ass all day, so I think you need something to take the edge off.”

His jaw clenched, but he raised the glass to his lips and downed the drink with one gulp. He grimaced as he said, “I miss the liquor from Prythian.”

You took a sip. The drink was bitter, more so than what you usually enjoyed, but it burned your throat enough to take away the pain in your heart. “Don’t worry. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Hopefully, this woman would be able to make that happen.

Suddenly, the lights in the ballroom dimmed, leaving only the spotlight on the stage for illumination. A man dressed in an elegant suit walked up to the microphone, and he gestured to the crowd as he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, cherished guests, welcome to the illustrious Obsidian Manor. Tonight, under the veil of moonlight, you are invited to partake in an evening full of splendor and intrigue. As the shadows gather and the clock strikes the hour of enchantment, let the masquerade commence!”

The guests cheered, raising their glasses up in the air. You drifted closer to Azriel, your tense muscles relaxing at the feeling of his warm body next to yours.

The man continued in a cheerful voice, “Allow the music to guide you tonight. Here, behind masks of velvet and whispers of silk, you may discover secrets long hidden and desires previously unspoken.”

The air in the room grew thick, the shadows around the room seeming to darken. Azriel wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer. “Something strange is happening here,” he murmured. “Do you feel it?”

You nodded, your mask scratching along your face. “The shadows… Do you feel them?” You didn’t understand anything about the shadow powers he claimed to have, but maybe he could sense something here that you didn’t.

“No,” he responded, his voice tight with frustration.

From somewhere in the room, a clock chimed, the loud bells ringing out with an ominous tone that echoed through the ballroom. The man on the stage smiled and waved a hand at the musicians behind him. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, his eyes scanning along the crowd. You felt Azriel tense as the man looked directly at you, his gaze piercing. “May the shadows guide you.”

The crowd erupted once more, their cheers swelling into a thunderous applause.  

The man clapped his hands, and the dim light in the room changed color. What was once a soft yellow was now a deep red, and you blinked your eyes as they adjusted. “Now,” the man said, a wicked smile forming on his face, “it’s time for that midnight oil.”

The lights changed to a deep green as the musicians started to play. The music was no longer soft and calm; now, the beat was darker and more sensual. The guests laughed as some of them paired up and started to dance. Others swayed their hips to the music by themselves, raising their glasses into the air.

Everyone around was dancing, save for you and Azriel.

You spun around to face Azriel, your chest pressing against his. “If we don’t dance, we will draw attention to ourselves,” you murmured over the beat of the music. You stared at the way the changing lights reflected in the gemstones on his mask.

Azriel’s hand tightened on your waist. “I don’t know this music,” he mumbled, his eyes dark. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You smirked at him as you laced your arms around his neck. He was much taller than you, but the heels you wore made it easy. “They don’t have music like this in Prythian?” you asked as you started to sway your hips, your dress gliding along the floor.

He shook his head as he gripped your waist in both hands, slowly guiding you. “No. Nothing like…” he trailed off, his gaze wandering down your face, down to the swells of your breasts that were nearly spilling out of the bodice of your dress. He took a deep breath, but his eyes remained there, his gaze hungry. “Nothing like this.”

Perhaps you should laugh and keep carrying on with the conversation, asking him more questions about Prythian. Perhaps you should ignore the way he was staring at you with those lust-blown hazel eyes.

But the half-empty drink in your hand had given you a confidence that surprised you. Your skin was burning with desire, and you decided it was best to take advantage of this moment.

This could be the last night you have with him, and you sure as well wouldn’t waste it.

You quickly spun around so your back was pressed to his chest. Azriel made a noise of surprise as you started to grind your hips against him, and you gasped at the feeling of his hard body against yours. But his body was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

That wouldn’t do. At all.

As the beat dropped and the lights changed again, you reached back with a hand and cupped the back of his head. You pressed yourself more against him, relishing in the low groan that escaped his throat. “Dance with me, Azzy,” you whispered, your voice low. You met his gaze, and your heart stopped at the intense heat in his eyes. “Please.”

Whatever control he had been holding over himself snapped. He gripped your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your skin through the thin material of the dress. He pulled you back against him as he started to move with you, his hips staying pressed against yours.

Azriel moved his head down to nuzzle your neck, his lips trailing along your skin. “You look divine tonight, Y/N,” he whispered into your skin, his breath causing a shiver to run through your body. “I haven’t been able to think straight since I saw you walk out in this dress.”

You smiled softly as you leaned your head back against his shoulder to give him more access. “I didn’t think you liked it,” you said to him, lacing your fingers through his hair with your free hand. “You haven’t looked at me all night.”

He kissed a spot on your shoulder that caused you to gasp. “I haven’t looked at you because my thoughts were… less than pure,” he responded, his deep voice full of longing. “I can’t control myself around you, fyrvor. You make me want to be something I’m not. You make me feel human, as if I could belong in your world, here with you.” He moved his hand up, tracing it along the outline of your breasts. “But that’s dangerous for me because I can’t stay. My responsibilities, my life… They’re in Prythian, where being ‘human’ is not a luxury I can afford.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, searching his shadowed eyes for the torment he so often masked. “Azriel, while you’re here, why can’t you just be you? Who says you have to be anything else?”

His hand came up to gently caress your cheek, a tender gesture that belied the turmoil in his eyes. “Because ‘just being me’ here with you makes forgetting who I really am too tempting. It makes leaving you, when the time comes, seem impossible.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw softly as he spoke, each word measured, yet laden with emotion.

His confession startled you. You started to think back on everything that had happened over the last two days, and your stomach turned as the realization hit you.

Azriel had distanced himself from you, but it wasn’t anything you had said or done… he was trying to keep the two of you safe from the inevitable pain of his departure. Azriel’s distancing was not a rejection but a shield, an attempt to protect both of your hearts from the deep pain that would come with is return to Prythian.

“You are my fyrvor, my wildfire,” he whispered. “You ignite something in me that I didn’t know existed. But I fear that fire could consume us both if I’m not careful.”

The earnestness in his voice struck a chord deep within you, a resonance of the potential heartache that lay ahead if you both ventured too far down this path. Yet, the pull between you felt as inevitable as the dawn following the night.

You reached a hand up, cupping his face in your palm. Damn everything that stood between you and him. In that moment, as you gazed into his eyes, the realities of your two vastly different worlds seemed to fade away. The constraints of Prythian and the mundane rhythms of your own existence dissolved into insignificance. All that mattered was the connection, the raw emotion that pulsed between you, urging you to forget the barriers, the duties, and the destinies that awaited beyond this stolen slice of time together.

“Let it consume us,” you whispered, your eyes searching his. “I don’t care if I get burned. Let it consume us whole, just for tonight.”

Dangerous words, dangerous promises. You knew you were walking a very thin line with him, but you didn’t care.

Azriel groaned as he spun you around so you were facing him. The movement startled you, causing you to drop your glass onto the floor. But some of it had splashed onto the bare skin of your chest, and his gaze followed the droplets as they slid down between your breasts.

He leaned his head down, and you moaned as you felt his tongue licking your skin, cleaning up the stickiness of the drink. You dug your fingers into his hair, holding him close to your body. He kept licking up, laying a trail for himself to follow as he made his way up your chest, your neck, stopping only once he got to your lips.

“Azriel,” you whispered, unable to think of anything but him.

He dug his fingers into your hair, not caring about the hours you had spent fixing it. He tilted your head back, his eyes searching yours. You licked your lips and gave him a small nod of permission.

Azriel let out a soft moan as he lowered his head toward yours, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was tender, a delicate exploration that quickly deepened with shared urgency. His lips moved against yours with careful intensity, each motion speaking volumes of the restrained desire he had been holding back. His hands, strong yet gentle, cradled your face, fingers threading through your hair as if to anchor himself to the moment.

The world around you seemed to still, the music and laughter of the guests fading into a hushed backdrop. It was a kiss that transcended the simple act itself, becoming a symbol of your mingled fates- both a farewell and a promise, a momentary lapse in the walls of your separating worlds.

You nipped at his bottom lip, and he groaned as he opened his mouth, his tongue dancing deliciously with yours. You pressed your body close to his, your breasts crushed against his chest. He held you against him, cradling you gently in his strong arms.

Azriel pulled away, causing you to cry out in protest. He silenced you with a chaste kiss. “Follow me,” he murmured, pulling you after him as he made his way through the crowd. He led you to a set of red velvet curtains that covered a door to one of the balconies.

He pushed the door open, pulling you after him as he closed it. You quickly glanced around, noticing the wrought iron railings covered in vines and flowers. There were some iron chairs and a small table, which held a vintage lantern that cast a soft, flickering light.

You whirled around to face Azriel. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we stay in there and wait for the mistress?”

Azriel stalked toward you, grabbing your hips and pushing you against the brick wall next to the door. “I don’t care,” he said as he hoisted you up, your back pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. You gasped as you felt the hardness of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. “I don’t care about anything right now, except for you.”

He kissed you again, this time full of more passion and desire. Earlier, the kiss had been gentle, a sweet communication between lips. But this was a storm. His tongue brushed against yours repeatedly, and you moaned at the sweet taste of him. The kiss was passionate and consuming, leaving you both breathless and aching for more.

Lightning lit up the dark sky, quickly followed by the rumbling sound of thunder in the distance. You jumped at the sound, wrapping your legs tighter around Azriel’s waist, softly grinding yourself against him.

“Stop that, or you’ll ruin my fun,” he groaned, moving his hand down to trace it up the sensitive skin of your leg. He pushed the material of your dress up, until your thigh was exposed to the chill of the night air.

You giggled and moved again, your breath catching in your throat. “Azzy,” you pleaded, moving your hands to run them along his back. You dug your nails into his shoulder blades, running your hands repeatedly along his spine.  

He shivered, his eyes rolling back slightly. “Do that again,” he whispered. At your confused look, he explained, “I’ve never felt that before, because of my wings. Do it again.” His voice was a purr, full of longing and desperation.

You happily obliged him, and he groaned as he started to kiss down your jaw, licking along the tender skin of your neck. You arched into him as his hand went higher up on your thigh, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties.

In that moment, you forgot about the fact that you were on a balcony at a masquerade ball, where anyone could see you. You could only focus on his lips on your skin and his hand as it went dangerously close to that place you wanted him the most.

Lighting struck and thunder cracked, but the only thing that mattered right now was you and Azriel. The storm that was rolling in mirrored the tumultuous emotions you felt, yet all that existed in that moment was the magnetic pull between you two.

Azriel pulled away from you, his eyes searching your face through his mask. They were full of desire, but they were also full of adoration… and love. “Come back with me,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to your nose. “Come back to Prythian with me. This doesn’t have to be our last night together, fyrvor.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel your heart pounding. The thought of leaving everything familiar behind… your family, your job. It filled you with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Could you really do that? Could you truly step into his world, and leave your own behind? Could you live in a land of magic… as a human?

Doubt clouded your mind, and your skin turned ice cold as your thoughts raced. Yet, as you looked into Azriel’s hopeful eyes, a part of you longed to say yes. After everything, after tonight, you didn’t think you could go back to a normal life.

You didn’t want to go back to a normal life.

And you most definitely didn’t want to lose Azriel.

You smiled at him, running your hands through his hair. You opened your mouth, the words from your heart ready to pour out, but you were interrupted by a low chuckle.

A woman’s chuckle, a husky laugh that was steeped in amusement. “Well, this is interesting.”

Azriel let you go, gently dropping your legs back to the ground. You braced a hand against the brick wall to steady yourself, your dress falling haphazardly around your legs. He stepped in front of you, shielding you from the woman.  

You silently thanked him as you did your best to straighten your dress and hair, which had been utterly destroyed thanks to Azriel’s hands. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close to his body as he asked, “Who the hell are you?”

You peered over his broad shoulder at the woman. She wore a flowing gown of deep emerald green that draped elegantly around her body. It was embroidered with intricate patterns of silver threads that traced unknown ancient-looking symbols.

Her black hair was styled in a beautiful updo, strands artfully twisted and pinned with small bone and silver charms. Around her neck, she wore a necklace made of various amulets and talismans that clinked together as she laughed.

Her face was strikingly beautiful, with sharp, intelligent eyes that glittered with wisdom. Her dark skin was smooth, the color of rich mahogany, and she had full lips that were upturned in an amused smile. Her mask was made of fine, black lace, and decorated with small stones and feathers, veiling her eyes while still allowing them to pierce through.

The woman gracefully laced her hands in front of her as she walked toward you, moving so silently that it was like she was floating. The air shifted, as if her powerful presence seemed to alter the very atmosphere.

You felt a cool shiver run down your spine as her eyes met yours. They held a glint of otherworldly knowledge- piercing and ancient, like gazing into a pool so deep that its bottom was lost to darkness. Something deep within you stirred, and you took a deep breath to settle your nerves.

Azriel must have sensed it as well because he tightened his grip on you, his fingers pressing into your lower back. He let out a low growl of warning as the woman drifted closer.

The woman chuckled again, completely unphased by the protective man in front of her. “Welcome to my masquerade ball, Azriel and Y/N,” she said, her silky voice full of serene authority. “It seems you two have been… enjoying yourselves.” She looked the two of you over, her smile growing as she took in Azriel’s rumpled suit and your wrinkled dress.

“I will ask you one more time,” Azriel snarled, “who the hell are you?”

You hated to admit it, but his sudden protectiveness over you was sexy as hell.

“I am the Obsidian Mistress,” the woman announced cheerfully, her voice carrying an air of command softened by warmth. She turned her gaze to Azriel, and her expression softened noticeably, a glimmer of understanding flashing across her features. It was as if she could see the threads of connection woven between you and Azriel, acknowledging them with a gentle nod that seemed to reassure him of her benevolent intentions. “But you may call me Mama Laveau. Come,” she continued, her tone shifting to one of gentle command as she turned and gestured for you both to follow her back into the manor.

Mama Laveau continued, “The artist Serena Rousseau contacted me, saying she knew a male who needed help getting back to Prythian. It seems we have much to discuss.”

Your blood chilled and your stomach sank at the thought of him leaving, a future suddenly real and looming. Could this woman truly know how to get Azriel back to his world?

A more pressing question flooded your mind, a life-changing choice that filled you with doubt and hope intertwined…

Would you be going back with him?

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@kitcat912

[rheiple]

Sun wants to be your favorite.

Have you noticed? From the way he greets you with a really tight hug and a little twirl, unlike how he only gives his other friends a quick pat on their shoulder and a handshake at best. The way he like to help you with work whether it’d be passing out the tools you needed, reaching stuff you can’t reach at, or even giving you the emotional support you needed when you feel like you can’t complete a task at hand. Please, he’s practically giving you the puppy eyes waiting for your praises, whenever he gives you a gift he hand made, cause he believes that putting effort like hand made crafts is much more romantic than buying it. Not that he mind buying stuff for you that is! Whatever you need, he’ll give you all, because you’re his favorite human!

And when you do give him compliments and praises? Ohh you flatter him so much! Internally squealing like a school girl who gushes about their crush, it’s so bad that he’s been nagged at by Moon. He doesn’t care though, he’s just jealous that he’s our favorite!

He doesn’t really believe it, but when you gently cup his face to admire his blue eyes, his golden rays and his pearly white smile. You told him that he’s such a pretty boy? He practically melts because of how hot his circuits are! Oh don’t look at him, you’re making him blush!

But you know what he really really likes? Whenever it’s his turn to praise and compliment you, he gets to see you overheat! Your flushed cheeks, awkward smile not being used to such statements about you, and the way your pretty eyes dart around to look anywhere but him. Oohhh he can’t wait to just eat you up! Acting all shy like that, and you’ll get a hyper Sun not letting you out of his love bombing.

He really likes you, and you seem to like him too! So is he your favorite boy? He really really hopes so !

.

.

.

Moon is your favorite.

Oh, he’s not going to sit and hope that he’s your favorite. He knows he is your favorite. I mean, you wouldn’t go out of your way to be nice and be buddy buddy with him right? He found it cute that one time you were too shy to start up a conversation with him, thinking he’s not much of a talker. He really isn’t, he prefers to listen to your voice. But if you asked him, he’d talk and talk. Wanna hear about facts of the solar system? Or hear about that one time a kid took a dookie on Sun? Oh, he’s just joking Sunny boy, he’s not that mean to embarrass you to his favorite human. Do you want to hear a story? About the spooky rabbit lady who likes to kidnap bad children? Or a love story about a human… and a robot..

Hah, he doesn’t know what your talking about Starlight. It sounds familiar? Well, yes because it’s based on a book he read. What book? Uh, he’s actually gate keeping it. Sorry Star, the book was too good for him to share it. Him? Projecting his feelings on the story?

His gonna put you in naptime for that.

Ohh but don’t think he didn’t noticed the way your eyes shined with stars whenever he lifted something heavy to help you with your duties. Like what you see? You’re practically ogling at his physique. Not that he minds, he loves your undevided attention. You get excited and hype him up whenever he does the lifting. His face plate spins in glee thinking about being your big and strong man.

He likes really teasing you, he sees your flushed cheeks and hears your heart rate speeding up little by little. He gets the sudden urge to just pinch and pull your cheeks really hard.

Oh, but you always like to take revenge. Stroking his cheeks and looking at him like he’s the million dollars you’ve won at the lottery. Telling him how he’s such a handsome man. He might’ve grumbled, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t loved it. He’s just very flustered at your compliments. No Star, I’m hiding in my hat- hey don’t take it off of me!

He knows you never get mad at him whenever he steals shiny trinkets and presents it to you. You just really love how he really really loves you. You know you’re his favorite human, his actions have shown it… So it’d make sense that he’s also your favorite, when you reciprocate his love for you right?

I got the sudden energy to write this when I listened to the song called "Pretty boy" by Naethan Apollo. The song is such a banger I would recommend it to y'all.

[sweetbluus]

love on the court

synopsis: you and kim chaewon were considered to be tennis prodigies. unfortunately, there's only room for one at the top. after years of rivalry, you now find yourselves on the same team, working together to help your university win a major title.

pairing: tennis player kim chaewon x tennis player fem!reader

tags: rivals to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort

warnings: cursing, toxic coach, mention of accident

word count: 18.1k

notes: while tennis is mentioned quite often, the technicalities of the actual game itself is not covered. aside from knowing that singles has one player on each side of the court, while doubles put two on each side, you do not need to know anything else about the rules of the sport before reading this. enjoy!

from as far back as your memory reaches, a tennis racket has been a natural extension of your hand. your parents were the first to notice your interest in the sport when you were just a baby. your father used to play for fun, and at the tender age of 4, you stumbled upon one of his rackets hidden in your parents' closet.

legend has it that you threw a tantrum the moment they tried to take the racket away from you.

ever since, you've been consistently enrolled in tennis lessons, mastering the rules and refining your techniques. tennis became your world, your life. however, your natural talent could only take you so far. you spent hours of your childhood dedicated to learning the craft and then slowly perfecting it.

even though you were young, you despised the assumption that your skill level was solely due to natural talent. those who made such claims were oblivious to the immense effort you invested.

they had no idea of the blood you shed on the court, the dives you took for every ball, the sweat that poured while running across the court, relentlessly striving to score, and the tears that were shed in moments of loneliness and isolation.

you trained under coach lim, a meticulous and stern man with a relentless pursuit of perfection. if you made an error in your hits on a given day, he would have you practice that specific hit repeatedly until it met his standards of flawlessness, regardless of the time it took.

while other kids your age were having playdates and enjoying weekends with friends, your focus remained on the court. unlike other kids who treated tennis as a simple hobby, your commitment ran much deeper—it had become your life.

you crossed paths with kim chaewon when you were just 6 years old. she also began training under coach lim's guidance. despite being your age, her abilities outshined yours. initially, this didn't bother you. in fact, you saw her superior skills as a motivating factor, spurring you to push yourself harder with each passing day.

you thought she was pretty. her hair was always perfect despite the long hours of practice. despite the sweat, she was incredibly beautiful. looking back, you'd admit you had a slight crush on her during those days. she was not only attractive and talented but also kind to you.

on one occasion, she offered you an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich her parents had packed for her. you had forgotten to bring lunch and were starving, so you accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

"thank you," you managed to say with your mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.

"don't talk with your mouth full. you're going to choke," she scolded you, bossiness laced in her voice.

you were tempted to consider chaewon as a friend. you wanted it to be true, but coach lim always seemed to interfere. moreover, chaewon's parents were cautious about distractions, and you were unfortunately deemed a possible one.

due to coach lim's influence and the involvement of chaewon's parents, both you and chaewon directed your focus entirely toward the game, displaying little desire to establish a friendship with each other or anyone else.

nonetheless, occasional short conversations did happen between you two. her presence in your life didn't disrupt your rhythm in the least. in truth, you were eager to embrace it, hoping for a friend.

that was the case until coach lim began drawing comparisons.

“chaewon can do this, why can't you?”

“y/n, do it like chaewon! you're doing it wrong; she's doing it perfectly.”

“you're never going to go pro if you can't hit like chaewon.”

for the entirety of your youth, these hurtful remarks echoed ceaselessly during the harsh training sessions with chaewon under coach lim. with each repetition of such painful critiques, the seeds of resentment and bitterness took root within you, slowly but surely intensifying your animosity towards her.

while chaewon basked in coach lim's favor, he viewed you as inferior to her - an individual lacking the potential to become the best.

by the time you reached 14, you had dedicated the majority of your life to honing your skills. under coach lim's rigorous guidance, you attained a level of skill that was truly difficult to fully grasp.

despite your own high level of skill, victories against chaewon had been scarce compared to losses. throughout the years, it was inevitable that coach lim's immense pressure and expectations eventually impacted chaewon.

the last time you saw chaewon was right before the two of you started high school. the so-called goodbye between the two of you was less than ideal.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the tennis court. the air was thick with tension as you and chaewon faced off at the net after another match. chaewon's triumphant smile contrasted sharply with your clenched fists and fiery glare.

"looks like i won again," chaewon's voice dripped with arrogance. "you really can't keep up, can you?"

"you got lucky," you spat out, your voice laced with resentment.

chaewon's triumphant smile didn't waver. "luck had nothing to do with it. i simply played better than you, just like every other time."

a spark of anger ignited in your eyes, your resolve strengthening. "you think you're invincible, don't you? just because you've managed to string a few wins together?"

chaewon widened her smirk. "well, it's not me who's struggling with straight losses against a single opponent."

your voice shook with fury, your cheeks flushed with emotion. "you know nothing about the effort i've poured into this, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices i've made. you're so blind to your own arrogance."

“save your sob story for someone who actually gives a shit,” chaewon let out a chuckle. "and yet your hard work can't even get you close. it's sad, really."

“fuck you, chaewon.” you walked away from her, not bothering to turn back to face her.

that wasn’t the first heated argument you had with her. coach lim’s toxic mentality had taken a toll on her, transforming her into a single-minded athlete consumed by her own arrogance.

she didn’t come to practice the next day.

your main goal in your tennis career, aside from becoming a world-renowned professional and winning prestigious titles such as wimbledon, was simply to be the best that you could possibly be - to reach your full potential and then exceed it.

despite its toxicity, it was difficult to avoid the influence of coach lim’s mindset since you had been under his direction for the majority of your life. it became ingrained in you, fostering a desire for perfection in every conceivable aspect.

balancing high school life with being one of south korea's best tennis players was no easy task, yet you managed to persevere.

in your freshman year of high school, you made your first genuine long-term friend. throughout high school, your reputation preceded you on the tennis team. you didn't go out of your way to make friends, which added to the intimidation people felt in your presence. however, one daring individual decided to take the chance.

huh yunjin was an impressive tennis player herself. with a rigorous practice routine, she had the potential to embark on a professional career. of course, she was no match for you - nobody in that entire city was.

she was the only person who dared to be your partner during drills and practice matches. to be fair, she was also the only person capable of keeping up with you. yunjin was friendly and talkative, two traits you lacked.

yet, you found comfort in her stories of teenage drama and the latest gossip she would share. it introduced a semblance of normalcy to your life, a rarity given your deep immersion in the world of tennis.

coach lim held a dislike for yunjin. he believed she might distract you from achieving excellence. he had repeatedly advised you to end your friendship. despite your usual compliance, this was one matter you chose to firmly oppose against your respected coach.

you firmly held the belief that your friendship with yunjin was not something to be casually discarded. that day you defied him, he assigned you extra laps and extended your time on the court for hours.

you decided to hide your friendship with her from him.

over the course of four years in high school, your connection with yunjin deepened, and she gradually became your best friend. as your senior year unfolded, a moment of immense happiness united the two of you: the news that both of you had secured scholarships to hybe university, home to the country’s best college tennis team.

at 18 years old, you reside in the university dorms, sharing the space with your roommate, yunjin. coach lim suggested that you turn professional right after completing high school. however, your parents encouraged you to embrace college life and experience it like any other young person.

during this time, you gained a degree of independence from coach lim, as you had a new coach to guide you whom you had yet to meet. in addition, hybe university was 4 hours away from your hometown.

ahead of the semester's start, all athletes moved in early for summer workouts. before the sun even had a chance to emerge from the clouds, you and yunjin were already awake, gearing up for the demanding day ahead.

without you knowing, yunjin prepared an additional lunch and extra snacks for your sake. your unwavering dedication to tennis often led you to overlook even the most basic needs, such as proper nutrition.

while unfamiliar with the incoming first-year teammates, both you and yunjin were well-acquainted with miyawaki sakura. she stood as a third-year student and the esteemed captain of the women's tennis team. her prowess on the court was widely acknowledged, and it was clear to everyone that she was destined for professional success following her graduation after her fourth year.

“i'm so excited to meet her," yunjin's step danced with excitement as she spoke. the walk from your dorm to the tennis courts took only about 15 minutes. "not only is she super talented, but she's also really attractive!"

“yeah, i know,” you replied nonchalantly. “i played a match with her once, a couple years back.”

yunjin’s mouth hung open, “why do you never tell me important things that happen in your life?”

“first of all, you’re exaggerating. you’re my only friend; i tell you everything about my life. i didn't think you'd be interested in hearing about a tennis match,” you reasoned with yunjin.

“i’d definitely want to hear about it, especially if your match involved a pretty girl!” yunjin exclaimed.

“she’s even prettier in real life,” you giggled as yunjin pushed you off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

respect for sakura ran deep within you. while your match ended in your favor, the victory had not been easily won. sakura's unwavering work ethic and dedication stood as qualities deserving of admiration. the opportunity of being part of the same team as her filled you with happiness.

you and yunjin were the first ones to arrive on the courts. the first light of dawn painted the clouds with hues of warmth and radiance. in this moment, gratitude welled within you. the results of years of unrelenting hard work and unyielding discipline finally bore fruit.

a commanding voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “good morning, ladies. you’re here early, i see.” coach yoo walked up to the bleachers where you and yunjin were warming up. immediately, the two of you bowed to her.

coach yoo's leadership, coupled with the athletes' dedication, had propelled hybe university to its standing as a top contender in collegiate tennis, not only within the country but worldwide. in your senior year of high school, you and yunjin received the chance to meet her and undergo interviews for your scholarships.

“good morning, coach,” you and yunjin said in unison. the sound of footsteps drew your attention.

“good morning, everyone. i hope you’ve had your breakfast because today is going to be a long day,” sakura announced as she walked up to the three of you. you nudged yunjin in the side, signaling her to close her slightly agape mouth.

“miyawaki, don’t scare the newbies like that,” coach yoo jokingly scolded the captain.

“oh, please. the two of them aren’t newbies,” sakura remarked, directing a nod at you. it was evident that she recalled your match from a few years ago.

sakura's stature was shorter than yours and yunjin's, yet her toned shoulders bore testament to the years of relentless dedication. a dark ponytail held her hair in place, and as she stood before you, her confident posture spoke volumes, while her presence held a quiet authority, ready to emerge when circumstances demanded.

after a few minutes, the remainder of the team started arriving at the court. among them were two third-years like sakura: choi yena and lee chaeyeon. you had seen their names before in past tournaments.

another teammate, yabuki nako, was a second-year student. like sakura, she was born in japan. however, she made the decision to relocate to south korea after being scouted by coach yoo during her high school years.

each of them extended introductions to you and yunjin. they all came across as quite friendly, leaving a positive impression on both of you.

“waiting for two more people,” coach's announcement rang out. “they should be arriving any minute now.” both you and yunjin shared a glance, curiosity evident as you anticipated the arrival of your new teammates.

and there they appeared. “y/n and yunjin, meet your fellow first-years,” sakura stated, her gaze locked on the approaching figures. a brief pause followed, and a sinking feeling took hold of your heart.

kim chaewon. she stood before the team and offered a bow, a smile gracing her face as she introduced herself. “good morning, everyone. i’m kim chaewon.” her eyes swept across your teammates, yet her gaze lingered on you for a fraction longer. a persistent thought pricked at you - perhaps she didn't even remember you.

the girl standing beside her introduced herself as nakamura kazuha. much like sakura and nako, she was discovered in japan and then made her way to south korea. you were much less attentive when kazuha introduced herself.

it had been years, yet the sting of resentment and bitterness still resurfaced. you failed to shake off the flood of memories that came when you glanced her way.

"alright, ladies. we'll kick off today's session with a few laps around the court to warm up. then, we'll move on to our drills. finally, we'll have our practice matches." coach yoo's authoritative voice filled the morning air. "is that clear?"

"yes, coach!" the team replied together.

throughout the day's workout, you and chaewon remained silent towards each other. while you'd held conversations with everyone else, you made an extra effort to avoid her.

you noticed her new appearance: short hair, secured in a small ponytail just like the rest of the team. her slender physique and well-defined arms captured your attention. whenever her gaze landed your way, you reflexively glanced away, almost snapping your neck in the process.

the practice matches pitted the upperclassmen against the underclassmen. you won each game against sakura, yena, chaeyeon, and nako. the matches were far from easy, further affirming the status of this collegiate team as one of the world's best.

chaewon herself secured victories against all the upperclassmen, while kazuha and yunjin fell short and experienced a couple of losses.

there was a shift in chaewon. if you were both still 14, she would often flaunt her victories, but now she kept her pride in check, not allowing it to overwhelm and dominate the court.

by the time the day's training wrapped up at around 5 pm, all of you were soaked in sweat, a clear demonstration of the commitment you all exhibited on the court.

"wow, the first-years this time around are really impressive," yena exclaimed with enthusiasm. the sentiment was echoed by the other upperclassmen.

you didn’t know who suggested it, but coach yoo readily agreed that tomorrow’s workout should pit the underclassmen against each other. it wasn't as if you were afraid of kim chaewon. certainly not. if anything, you were eager to face her once again to prove that you could win.

“are you okay?" yunjin's concern filled the air as the two of you got ready for bed in your dorm.

"yeah, what's on your mind?" you'd confided in her about chaewon before, recounting the challenges you faced during your formative years.

"i mean, i know how you feel about chaewon. i understand it’s in the past, but i just want to make sure you're okay seeing her again," yunjin reasoned while removing her face mask.

one of the things you truly appreciated about yunjin was her thoughtfulness. despite her boisterous nature at times, her kind heart and empathy shone through as true markers of her remarkable character.

"thanks for checking in, jin." you offered her a sincere smile. "i promise i'm okay." it wasn't entirely a lie. seeing chaewon earlier did churn your stomach, but you weren't about to run and hide.

"if you say so. just remember i'm here if you need to talk. good night!" yunjin's voice rang out as she entered her own bedroom. you thanked your past self for standing up and defying your coach to keep your friendship with yunjin.

the next morning, coach yoo leads you through a similar routine as the day before. by the time the drills conclude, it's time for the practice matches.

as the underclassmen, you watch the upperclassmen compete against each other first. despite your own impressive skill level, you carry a profound respect for anyone who commits to this sport. achieving such an elite status demands years of hard work and countless hours on the court.

that's why chaewon's seemingly natural born talent gnaws at you. in your eyes, she's never experienced the weight of enduring coaches' criticisms, discontent with their athletes' performance. she's never experienced the sting of wrapping her bleeding hand in gauze just to return to the court after an injury, all because her coach pushed her to win. she's never had to prove to her coach that she was more than good enough.

perhaps you weren't entirely truthful with yunjin. you're definitely not okay.

now, it's the underclassmen's time to participate in practice matches amongst themselves. your initial matchup is against kazuha. despite her determined effort, you manage to secure victory in the game.

"great matches, underclassmen. we'll take a quick break, and then we'll set up another round of games. on one court, nakamura will face huh, and on the other, kim will play against y/l/n. clear?"

"yes, coach!" the response comes in unison from you and the other 1st years.

following coach yoo's instructions, yunjin shoots you a look - an unspoken check on your well-being. you respond with a nod, reassuring her. you sense chaewon's eyes on you, even though neither of you have spoken a word to each other. fortunately, everyone on the team, except for yunjin, seems unconcerned.

next up are the practice matches among the underclassmen. you and chaewon head to opposite sides of the court and then approach the net.

"let's have a good match," chaewon offers her hand. she’s certainly not the same 14-year-old you remember.

you extend your hand and shake hers. "yeah, let's."

the first serve sends the ball hurtling, starting a back-and-forth that feels like a tense duel. each racket swing carries a silent rivalry, its roots unknown. chaewon's movements are smooth and graceful, her skill evident in every shot.

the rallies are fierce, both of you pushing your limits. with every point, the court witnesses a battle between your past and present selves. to you, it's a struggle not just for victory, but for redemption.

but as the game progresses, a sinking feeling settles in. chaewon's shots grow sharper, her tactics unpredictable. with every point she claims, the gap widens, and the tension in your chest grows.

as your points lag behind, coach lim’s voice takes over your mind.

“you’ll never get anywhere if you hit the ball like that!”

“that’s how failures hit the ball!”

“this is why chaewon is better than you!”

the upperclassmen observe, the air thick with anticipation. as the final point approaches, you fight to keep your footing. every rally is a test of endurance and willpower. but in the end, as the decisive point slips from your grasp, the weight of the loss settles in.

you brace yourself for the usual degrading comments chaewon would deliver after a match, but they never come.

“good game,” chaewon says to you breathlessly as the two of you come face to face at the net. once again, she offers her hand.

you also extend your hand and shake hers. "good game," you reply. although it wasn't, not for you. your form had faltered, your focus had wandered from the game, and your overall performance was terrible.

coach yoo thought otherwise. “that was an amazing game, ladies,” she says as the two of you walk up to the bleachers where the upperclassmen are also in awe of you and chaewon’s combined talent. you and chaewon send her an appreciative nod, unable to speak from the intense match.

"imagine if they teamed up in doubles… they’d be unstoppable!" an upperclassman's voice rings out, echoed by a chorus of agreements.

"that's a thought for the future. right now, our session's over. now, go shower because you all smell! i'll see everyone tomorrow." coach yoo bids the team farewell, and everyone disperses in their own directions.

"jin, i'll stick around for a bit. just want to work on something real quick," you inform your best friend, avoiding her gaze. you sense her disapproval of your decision to stay back and overexert yourself. but she knows her words won't sway you.

with a sigh, she grabs something from her bag. "don't stay too late, and make sure to eat." she hands you a sandwich she prepared in the morning. you offer a thankful smile and wave as she heads back to the dorm. you feel chaewon's eyes stay on you before she leaves alongside kazuha.

you've lost track of how many times you've struck the ball now. the moon hangs in the sky, casting its glow as the court lights illuminate the surroundings. your shirt is drenched with sweat, and your limbs ache from the relentless exertion.

just one more.

it needs to be perfect.

you serve the ball to the other side of the net, and it goes further out. “you know, i've heard of people trying to hit the ball over the net, not into the next galaxy,” a loud voice calls out behind you.

you turn around and spot chaewon. your surprise is carefully masked. she's in sweatpants and a sleep shirt, clearly ready to call it a night.

"what are you doing here? thought you left a while ago," you inquire as she approaches the other end of the court, racket in hand. it's the spare one you kept in your bag.

“i could ask you the same thing. just needed some fresh air, and i heard someone on the court,” chaewon reasons. “serve the ball.”

“what?” you hesitate, but she readies herself for your serve.

you serve the ball, and she hits it back with perfect accuracy. you volley back, and she lets it go past.

“your serve isn’t powerful enough. it’s too predictable, and anyone from a mile away can see the ball’s trajectory. your toss is inconsistent. you’re rushing,” chaewon critiques, and you feel anger boil up within. you take deep breaths, suppressing the urge to snap back.

apart from coaches, chaewon is perhaps the only one who can give such pointed criticism. she's earned that right, but you can’t stand that fact.

in that instant, any semblance of growth you had believed in during the years of separation seems to evaporate. suddenly, you and chaewon are back to being 14-year-olds, and you release the hold on your emotions that you've painstakingly kept in check over the years.

"offering some unsolicited advice again, are we?" your voice drips with sarcasm as you tighten your grip on your racket. you walk up to chaewon on the side of the court she's on.

chaewon's eyes flash, a mixture of annoyance and defiance in her gaze. "if you're so bothered by a little feedback, maybe you should work on your sportsmanship."

your nostrils flare, your temper flaring like a wildfire. "i don't need your condescension, chaewon. your opinions on my game mean absolutely nothing to me."

a derisive smirk tugs at the corner of chaewon's lips. "ah, of course. because you're the embodiment of perfection on the court, right?"

"and just when i thought you had changed, it turns out you're still the same arrogant little girl you used to be." your eyes narrow dangerously.

"at least i don't crumble under pressure like some people i know." chaewon's retort is quick and cutting.

your fists clench at your sides, your control slipping further and further away. "your arrogance is blinding you."

a mocking laugh escapes chaewon's lips. "and your insecurities are consuming you.”

“i don’t know what i ever did to you, chaewon,” your voice tinged with frustration and confusion.

chaewon's gaze hardens, her tone icy. "spare me the innocence act. you always played the victim, didn't you? always making everyone believe you were the hardworking underdog while secretly enjoying the attention."

your fists tremble with the effort to keep your composure. "you think you're better than everyone just because you have some natural talent. you never understood the meaning of hard work because everything came easily to you."

deep down, you recognize the unfairness in assuming that chaewon had never struggled. this game is challenging, demanding time, effort, and sacrifice to excel. however, in this moment, your anger clouds your judgment, making it difficult to think rationally.

the tension between you two is intense, an invisible wall of resentment and pride keeping you apart. years of pent-up feelings overflow, turning your argument into a clash of words.

"maybe you should learn some humility," you shoot back, your voice a mix of defiance and bitterness.

chaewon's lips curl into a bitter smile. "and maybe you should learn that not everyone owes you their admiration."

your argument becomes an explosive clash of egos as the air between you cracks with disdain. the intensity is palpable as you lock eyes, a silent challenge passing between you. neither is willing to back down, your mutual contempt fueling the fire of your heated exchange. 

the silence is broken by the ringing of your phone. retrieving it from your pocket, you notice it's yunjin calling. you try to collect yourself after the intense argument with chaewon before answering.

“where the hell are you? it’s almost midnight! we have practice at 6 in the morning!" yunjin's voice comes through the call, her words so fierce that you instinctively move your phone away from your ear to avoid the impact of her raised volume.

"i got caught up in something. i'm on my way home," you reply before ending the call. looking around, you notice chaewon has already left. your earlier assumption was wrong. chaewon hasn't changed a bit.

summer workouts lasted for a month. during that time, you formed a close connection with the upperclassmen. they shared their knowledge, and you reciprocated with your insights.

throughout the summer training sessions, you and chaewon don’t speak again after that night. most of the communication, if you could even call it that, between the two of you happened wordlessly - both of you apprehensive that an outburst of emotions might unfold.

it was a refreshing change not to be subjected to a coach's constant scrutiny. coach yoo brought a different approach, avoiding pitting teammates against each other and nurturing teamwork instead.

during one particular workout, you felt sick after not having eaten all day, causing you to miss multiple easy shots. coach yoo noticed and walked up to you. you braced yourself to hear the harsh critiques.

"are you okay, y/l/n?" her typically firm tone carried a hint of softness, unveiling a compassionate side beneath her exterior.

"yes, coach. just not feeling well," you weakly responded, your determination to push through still intact. "i can keep going."

coach yoo's reply was resolute yet caring. "head back to your dorm, y/l/n. i don't want you collapsing on my court. yunjin, make sure she gets there." yunjin promptly set aside her gear and accompanied you.

experiencing a coach who seamlessly blended unwavering discipline with genuine concern was a new and welcomed sensation.

the semester begins, and the team workouts now occur every other day, a change from the daily summer sessions. you find relief in sharing several classes with yunjin, and you're even more relieved that none of your classes overlap with chaewon's, thanks to the significant differences in your majors.

as for the team format, coach yoo's decision places you, chaewon, sakura, and yena in singles matches for the season. yunjin is paired with chaeyeon, while kazuha is teamed up with nako for doubles. the team effortlessly conquers the initial set of matches against other schools, solidifying the university's reputation as the country's best tennis team.

unfortunately, a setback arises when chaeyeon gets injured and nako has to fly back to japan due to a family emergency, both incidents happening in the middle of the season. as a result, coach yoo pairs yunjin and kazuha for doubles. nevertheless, the team is left with one pair missing.

"kim and y/l/n, you two will form the new doubles pair," coach yoo announces, sending a chill down your spine. yunjin picks up on your tension and raises a question, "coach, with all respect, i could be paired with y/n, and kazuha could be paired with chaewon." her inquiry carries an awareness of the history between you and chaewon. the upperclassmen raise their eyebrows at yunjin's nerve in questioning the coach's decision.

before she answers, coach yoo instructs the upperclassmen to return to the courts to finish their drills, leaving the underclassmen alone with the coach. “my decision is final, yunjin.”

your best friend sends you an apologetic look. although her suggestion was denied, you were still quite appreciative that she went out of her way and tried for you. you notice that chaewon’s avoiding your gaze, feeling similarly to how you feel about coach yoo’s decision.

"i'm not blind," coach yoo starts off, catching your attention with her very first words. your eyes widen, sensing that she’s directing her words at you and chaewon. "i can sense the history between both of you. even the football players on the field across the campus could probably pick up on the tension. it's noticeable for everyone, not just you two."

her gaze shifts between you and chaewon, each of you feeling the weight of her words. "this situation offers an opportunity for you to work together, set aside your differences, and learn to function as a united team. we may play singles matches, but the impact of individual actions or conflicts ripples through the entire team."

admittedly, you recognize the truth in coach yoo's perspective. the realization that your past with chaewon is affecting the whole team hits you, highlighting the significance of teamwork in an individual sport like tennis. a silent nod from chaewon signals her agreement with coach yoo's assessment.

"also," coach yoo continues, "it gives us the chance to make the most of the differing playing styles that both of you bring to the table." her reasoning prompts a puzzled exchange of glances between you and yunjin.

"i'm sorry, coach, but i don’t quite understand," chaewon interjects, voicing the confusion that mirrors your own. kazuha stands by chaewon's side, and her knowing expression leads you to believe that chaewon has likely shared some details about your shared history.

“chaewon plays with aggression on the court, going for powerful shots and taking calculated risks to dominate the game. meanwhile, y/n prioritizes precision and control. she aims for well-placed shots, aiming to minimize errors," coach yoo’s insightful breakdown of your playstyles leaves you in awe. it's clear why she's the driving force behind the university's success.

“not only that, chaewon is adaptable. she changes strategies and shots based on her opponent's weaknesses. on the other hand, y/n focuses on consistent shots, working to make fewer errors and capitalize on opponents' mistakes.” 

a rare moment of understanding passes between you and chaewon for the first time that day. both of you recognized the mutual reluctance to be paired, yet coach yoo’s rationale stands firm, reminding you that further questioning is unnecessary.

“i know it’ll be difficult to adjust at first, but you’re here for a reason. you are all elite athletes in this sport. don’t let some petty rivalry prevent you from reaching your potential,” coach yoo says in a gentle tone. “we’ll have our first practice match between the new doubles teams at our next practice.”

you take a deep breath, allowing coach yoo's words to sink in. you realize that you can't allow your history with chaewon and your relationship with her to hinder your performance on the court.

on the day of the next practice, the sun hid behind the clouds, casting shifting shadows across the court. as the upperclassmen squared off in practice matches, coach yoo closely observed your game against yunjin and kazuha, where chaewon partnered with you.

as the game went on, chaewon's aggressive style clashed with your focus on precision. a tense rally ended with chaewon going for a powerful shot that sailed just wide of the line.

"chaewon, you need to control your shots better," you commented, your frustration barely concealed.

the response was swift, brimming with a sense of defiance. "oh, and you think your careful little taps are any better?" chaewon retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"at least i don't risk losing points with reckless shots," you shot back, your voice dripping with annoyance.

coach yoo's whistle cuts through the tension before the argument can escalate further. "kim and y/l/n, laps around the court. now." both you and your doubles partner let out exasperated groans, setting down your rackets and beginning the laps.

“if i hear another argument from the two of you, the entire team does laps!” coach yoo's voice echoes across the courts, a clear warning for all to hear.

as you jog the laps, chaewon deliberately nudges your shoulder. you muster all your self-control to dismiss it, not wanting to be the cause of extra work for the team.

the next practices end up similarly with you and chaewon bickering, not being able to play the best way the two of you possibly could. with an important match coming up against the university that you faced off against in last year’s national finals.

"jin, she's a terrible partner. she doesn't listen to me, she does whatever she wants, and she doesn't even play like i'm there," you confide in a hushed tone to yunjin, perched together on the bleachers.

"hmm, not listening and doing whatever she wants... sounds like you're describing someone familiar," yunjin playfully remarks, prompting you to lightly slap her shoulder. "just kidding! but seriously, you've got to find a way to make it work with her. i know it’s hard, but this upcoming match is important. you two are the best of the best, but if you can't cooperate, there’s no point."

you knew yunjin had a point. all those days of tough training, all that effort to secure your place at this top tennis university—none of it should crumble due to this situation. so, with a deep breath, you head over to where chaewon is seated with kazuha. you firmly grab chaewon's arm and lead her to a quieter spot.

“ow, jesus! you’ve got some man hands,” chaewon complains, trying to free her arm from your hold. you roll your eyes, holding back any sharp response.

"firstly, your hands are just as rough as mine," you start, your tone steady. "secondly, let me speak before you start interrupting." chaewon raises an eyebrow. "we can't keep this up. i know we've got differences, and our history isn't great. but now we're doubles partners."

"oh great, are you going to give a cheesy motivational speech?" chaewon scoffs, her eyes rolling. this is going to be nearly impossible.

"could you not interrupt? act your age," you sigh with frustration. "this isn't some pep talk. it's about the team. we're representing our university, and, let's face it, we're the best players they’ve got." chaewon stays silent, but you can sense she agrees.

“my point is, whatever this ‘thing’ is happening between us needs to stop, or at least be put aside. coach yoo is right. we can't let our personal issues mess up our game," you explain to her.

there's a pause before chaewon responds, “i don’t need you to tell me how to play this game.”

your response is quick and honest. "i'm not trying to tell you. i'm asking you to consider working together." you swallow your pride. "we both bring unique strengths to the court. if we combine them, we'll be an unbeatable team."

"is this your way of admitting i'm better than you?" chaewon raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

you feel like giving up. "you're impossible. i can't do this."

before you turn away, chaewon's voice catches your attention. "being unbeatable does sound appealing." she lingers for a moment. "after all these years, after everything... do you really think we can do this?" the sudden, unexpected change in chaewon's tone catches you off guard. there's a subtle trace of vulnerability, hinting at the impact of coach lim's harmful ideology.

“it's definitely going to be a challenge, no doubt, but i think we have what it takes. we're both talented players,” you respond.

“if we can just get over ourselves and focus on winning together, we’d crush everyone in the way.” a spark ignites in your eyes, mirrored by a similar gleam in chaewon's gaze. the fleeting vulnerability she displayed earlier has vanished.

chaewon lets out a quiet chuckle, “fine, let's give it a shot. don't expect any sappy gratitude speeches from me.”

“not in my wildest dreams, kim.”

the next practice is the last one before the important game against last year's runners-up in the national championship. while not the national tournament itself, this match holds great importance. it will set the tone for how your team fares for the rest of the year. your team is well aware that the competition is eyeing you all closely.

“today's practice match will have sakura and yena as a doubles pair going against the underclassmen pairs," coach yoo announces.

you and chaewon face off against sakura and yena first. the atmosphere is charged with tension, yet a new kind of energy fills the air. there is an unspoken determination between you and chaewon to put your differences aside and make it work for the sake of the team.

as the match begins, there are a few miscommunications and awkward moments. your precision clashes with chaewon's aggression, causing the two of you to miss easy shots. but as the match progresses, something begins to shift.

your well-placed shots start to complement chaewon's powerful swings, and chaewon's dynamic style adds an unexpected element to your controlled approach.

during a pivotal moment in the game, sakura and yena begin a relentless barrage of rapid hits. your quick reflexes allow you to anticipate yena's return, sending a scarily accurate shot back to the opposing side. chaewon, on the other hand, has positioned herself near the net, ready to capitalize on any opportunity.

as yena's return skims over the net, chaewon pounces with a fierce overhead smash that sends the ball hurtling downward with incredible force. sakura tries to counter, but her shot is rushed. you are already positioned perfectly, gently tapping the ball over the net. it lands just inside the line on the other side. 

sakura and yena can't reach it in time. yunjin and kazuha’s cheers from the bench reach your ears. locking eyes with chaewon, both of you panting, a silent agreement forms between you. the understanding is wordless yet profound – you can make this work.

“i love always being right,” you overhear coach yoo say.

you and chaewon easily beat your matchup in the game against the other university. and not just that, your whole team puts on an impressive display, completely outplaying the opponent and confirming the hybe university tennis team’s status as the best in the nation.

at the next team practice, coach yoo gathers everyone around for an important announcement. "the official national tournament is approaching. fortunately, chaeyeon's recovery is progressing well, and nako will be flying in from japan tomorrow." relief floods across everyone's faces, a testament to the genuine bond that the girls share.

"however," coach yoo continues, capturing your attention, "i'd like y/n and chaewon to remain as our doubles pair. kazuha and yunjin will return to playing singles, and chaeyeon will be paired with nako for doubles."

you notice a glint of confusion in chaewon's eyes, her brows furrowing in response. understandably so. you both assumed that you'd return to playing singles once chaeyeon and nako returned.

"i understand this might be unexpected, but witnessing you two on the court the other day was like witnessing pure magic. you two make an incredible team," coach yoo asserts with conviction. “it was pure perfection.”

hearing coach yoo express something so lofty is a rarity, and you, along with the rest of the team, are well aware of that fact. this makes her statement even more impactful and meaningful.

“now, let’s continue our practice. we have a championship to win. do i make myself clear?” coach yoo looks at everyone, emanating a sense of determination and conviction that is palpable.

in unison, the team replies, “yes, coach!”

after a particularly challenging practice session where your rhythm was off, you find a seat on the bench next to yunjin. "what's on the menu for dinner?" she asks, gathering her things to leave the court and head back to the dorm.

you shake your head, a determined expression on your face. "i think i'll stay back a bit. i need more practice."

yunjin shoots you a disbelieving look. "y/n, you're pushing yourself too hard again."

"i have to," you sigh. "i don't want to be a liability to chaewon."

"you're not a liability, and you won't be," yunjin insists, though she knows arguing won't change your mind. "alright, just don't stay too late. i'll come back after i eat and bring you some food."

"i appreciate it, but i'll be fine," you try to assure her.

"if i didn't feed you, you'd probably have starved by now," yunjin says with a deadpan expression.

"okay, okay. no need to be so dramatic," you chuckle at your best friend's playful exaggeration.

as yunjin heads off, you return to the court with your racket in hand. using the ball machine, you start a practice session focused on refining your form, determined to make each hit better than the last.

“this is tennis, not baseball. stop trying to hit home runs,” a familiar voice chimes in.

“what if i've had a change of heart and i'm just practicing for when i switch over to my new passion, which is baseball?” you retort with a touch of sarcasm.

“seems like you're the new comedian in town, y/n,” chaewon quips, strolling over to your side of the court. after the countless practices you've shared as doubles partners, you've grown skilled at rolling with chaewon's jabs and responding in a similar fashion. similarly, chaewon has learned to temper her humor, keeping it in the realm of playful banter rather than letting it escalate into a full-blown argument.

"why do you hit the ball like that?" chaewon asks, stepping closer to you.

"like what?" you scoff at her question, sensing that she isn't trying to insult you.

"like you're afraid," she comments, crossing her arms as she positions herself beside you.

you're not sure how to respond. "i don't know what you mean. this is how coach lim taught me."

at the mention of her old coach, you notice a change in chaewon's posture. her body tenses, and her expression shifts into one of displeasure. it's as if you've accidentally struck a nerve.

"well, he taught us wrong," chaewon asserts, her tone resolute.

you're taken aback by her defiance toward her former coach. even more surprising is the sensation of her front pressing against your back as she wraps her arms around you and places them on yours.

suddenly, you’re overly conscious of how terrible you must smell after all the hours out in the sun. heat rushes to your face. you tell yourself it's from the overexertion you’ve put your body through.

you swallow the lump in your throat before you ask, "what are you doing?"

"relax, i'm just helping you loosen up a bit," chaewon explains, her reasoning leaving you curious about her choice of words. “your swings aren’t too terrible, but they lack fluidity.”

as the ball machine shoots another ball towards you, chaewon gently guides your grip and stance, helping you align your body with the swing. the ball connects with the racket, and while the shot might not be as precise as your usual hits, there's a newfound sense of ease in the motion.

"see, you don't always have to aim for perfection," chaewon explains, her breath tickling your ear. "sometimes, it's about letting go a little and trusting your instincts."

you take a deep breath, feeling the truth in chaewon's words. as another ball comes your way, you try to mimic the more relaxed swing chaewon demonstrated. the ball sails over the net, landing safely within the court.

"you're overthinking it," chaewon advises gently. "just let your body move naturally. don't be afraid to take risks."

with chaewon's guidance, your swings gradually become less rigid and more fluid. there's a rhythm in your movements, a dance between your body and the racket. chaewon's presence, her arms wrapped securely around you, becomes a comforting anchor.

you clear your throat before speaking. "you can let go of me now." chaewon quickly releases her hold on you. walking over to the other side of the court where the ball machine is placed, you turn it off before returning to chaewon's side. she's still standing there.

her face is red too, likely from the intense practice you both had earlier and the sun's heat.

"thank you, by the way," you begin, addressing chaewon. "you didn't have to stay behind and give me tips, but you did. i really appreciate it."

"what did i say about corny speeches of gratitude?" chaewon says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"you said i would never hear them from you. i never said you would never hear them from me," you reply with a playful tone. her laughter fills the air, a sound you can't recall ever hearing before.

you pause, a question that's been gnawing at you since chaewon mentioned him now on the tip of your tongue. "i hope this isn't too personal, but what happened between you and coach lim? you suddenly stopped showing up."

the air around you two suddenly becomes heavy and serious. “i couldn’t handle it anymore, y/n. he wanted me to be perfect. i don’t even think he ever looked at me as a human; he only saw me as a machine that could win him trophies and titles.”

confronted with chaewon's raw perspective, you find yourself torn between your past assumptions and newfound understanding. younger you was too caught up in your own resentment and your endless pursuit of perfecting yourself that you never really saw the extent of coach lim’s effect on chaewon.

this whole time, you assumed that chaewon loved the idea of being coach lim’s perfect player, of basking in his praise and validation.

out of nowhere, chaewon’s gaze turns dangerously intense. "you never once offered a helping hand. you never even bothered to ask if i was okay."

you feel a surge of conflicting emotions, caught between understanding her pain and wanting to defend your own past beliefs. "chaewon, it's not like i knew what you were going through. you seemed to thrive under his coaching, and you always appeared confident."

"thrived?" chaewon's voice turns sharp, laced with frustration. "i had to put on a brave face because that's what he demanded. but deep down, i was suffocating. and you, you were always so self-absorbed in your own battles that you didn't see mine."

"give me a break, chaewon. i was just 14 like you. i was clueless," you snap, the heat of the argument pushing you to react defensively. "i had my own struggles to deal with. i couldn't just magically see past my own challenges."

she shoots you a sharp glance. “right, because you have all the entitlement in the world to be self-absorbed."

"that's not what i'm saying. stop twisting my words," you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. "we both had our share of problems, and it's unfair to blame me for not being a mind-reader." at this point, you're trying your best to hold your tears back, years of pent-up resentment and bitterness finally reaching a boiling point.

chaewon lets out a bitter laugh. “coach lim took so much away from me. he took my sense of self-worth, my youth, and for a while, my love for the game. i was the golden girl, the one everyone expected to excel, and for a while, i thought i was living the dream. but it was a nightmare. every time i stepped onto that court, i could feel his eyes on me, his expectations pressing down like a weight i couldn't escape."

"i told my parents everything. i explained how i felt like i had ceased to be a person, how there were moments when i couldn't even bring myself to step out of my room. i became consumed by the fear of tennis. fortunately, they granted me the opportunity to switch schools and train in japan for high school," she goes on. you imagine that's where she crossed paths with kazuha and developed a strong friendship with her.

her voice rises as the anger surges within her. "i couldn't breathe under his scrutiny. he wanted perfection, and every time i fell short, i felt like i was falling apart. he'd praise me one moment, and the next, he'd dissect my mistakes as if they were a crime against the sport. i lost myself in his demands, in the pressure to maintain this image of the flawless player he created." tears begin spilling from chaewon’s eyes.

you haven’t said a word since she began her confession of the true impact of coach lim’s toxic style of coaching. after all these years, you were finally able to hear her side of the story.

her voice is tainted with pain. through tears, she asks, "do you know what it feels like, y/n? to be praised and adored for your skills but to also be trapped in that admiration? to have every victory overshadowed by the fear of disappointing him?” her words trembled, marked by the cracks in her voice.

“you thought i had it all, but in reality, coach lim's obsession with my success was suffocating me. it made me forget why i loved tennis in the first place.” she falls to the ground on her knees.

chaewon's chest heaves with the force of her cries, and her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps. the sound of her anguish fills the air, a symphony of pain and heartache. her hands cover her face as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of her own emotions, fingers trembling with the weight of her pain.

tears flow down from your own eyes, mirroring chaewon's pain. you sit down beside her, pulling her gently into your arms. it's a moment when you manage to set aside the lingering resentment and bitterness that coach lim had planted between you and chaewon. 

in this shared moment, you both unleash years of pent-up pain and suffering that originated from that one man. together, you and chaewon allow the floodgates to open, releasing the years of pain and anguish inflicted upon both of you by a single man.

minutes pass, and you've spent every one of them on the ground with chaewon, your fingers drawing soothing circles on her back as you help her find calm. the air remains quiet, words unspoken between you two. the tears have ceased their flow, leaving the both of you enveloped in stillness.

eventually, you break the silence, your voice soft yet laden with sincerity. "i'm sorry, chaewon."

she shakes her head, her gaze fixed on the ground as she responds, her tone carrying a blend of self-reflection and regret. "no, you were right earlier. we were just kids, we didn’t know anything. it wasn't your fault."

you release her gently and shift back, allowing her a moment to breathe. chaewon meets your gaze, her eyes telling a story of mixed emotions that her words cannot fully express. "in the end, it wasn't on us, y/n. i was hurting, but you were hurting too. we were both too lost in our own struggles to truly see each other."

you nod at chaewon’s sentiments. “we can’t change the past, but we can move forward from this.”

“here you go again with your corny speeches,” chaewon softly jokes.

"chaewon, please. we're having a moment," you playfully retort, noticing chaewon's soft laughter, a weight lifting from the atmosphere. "what i mean is, i want to see you as my teammate, even as a friend. i don't want to perceive you the same way i have since we were six."

"i know it won't be an instant change. both of us need to deal with the personal aftermath coach lim left on us. but maybe, we can face it together," you offer a smile to chaewon, met with one in return.

"can i still make fun of you?" chaewon's familiar playfulness returns. this time, her words carry humor instead of malice.

"if you didn't, i'd think you got abducted by aliens and they replaced you with someone else," you say humorously, following her lead.

chaewon's nose is reddened, her eyes and lips still puffy from crying - yours probably look the same. yet, in this moment, as the sunset's last light embraces you both, she appears more beautiful to you than ever.

"teammates?" chaewon extends her hand, a gesture of camaraderie.

"i thought you hated corny stuff?" you glance at her hand, raising an eyebrow.

"only when it's you," chaewon quips, swift with her reply. a chuckle escapes you as you shake her hand.

"alright, teammate." a brief pause envelops you both. suddenly, footsteps approach the court.

the shrill of yunjin’s voice breaks the moment, "y/n! i got some fried chicken for you! i wasn't sure about rice, but i thought you'd be hungry, so i grabbed you s-"

yunjin's words falter as she takes in the scene before her. confusion washes over her face, her eyebrows knitting together. "what the hell happened?"

you want to laugh at how comical yunjin’s expression looks, but you hold it in because you can feel that she’s extremely confused.

"just catching up with my teammate," you gesture to chaewon. getting back on your feet, you reach out your hands, offering help, and she clasps them to stand up.

"see you at the next practice," chaewon says, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

as she disappears from view, yunjin grabs your arm and shakes you. "you have to fill me in on everything!"

"i promise i will. now, stop shaking me. you might give me a traumatic brain injury," you joke, walking alongside yunjin back to your dorm. a burden you hadn't realized was weighing on your chest and shoulders suddenly lifts.

as practices come and go, and the season progresses, your connection with chaewon slowly but surely develops. initially, it was a challenge to release the grip of your shared history. yet, the genuine love and passion you both hold for the game serve as a balm, easing the burden of the past and guiding your attention toward the present.

during a match against another university, you and chaewon face off against a less-than-pleasant pair of opponents. these girls exude snarkiness and rudeness, assuming that you both will be an easy match for them.

"let's get this match over. just by looking at you two, we can already tell this is going to be an easy win," one of the opposing players remarks, followed by a mocking laugh from the other.

"thanks in advance for helping us keep our winning streak," adds the second girl. chaewon's temper flares, her sharp retorts ready to be unleashed. having been on the receiving end of her biting words before, you know her response could easily escalate into a confrontation. swiftly, you place a hand on her shoulder, silently urging her to keep her cool.

"let's have a good game," you respond, refusing to engage in their negativity. as you and chaewon head back to your side of the court, you meet her gaze and offer a quiet reminder, "you and i both know it's not worth it to stoop to their level."

rolling her eyes, chaewon begrudgingly agrees, acknowledging your point. "you and i both know we're going to destroy them."

and she's right. you and chaewon breeze through the match, your synergy undeniable. at one point, chaewon powerfully smashes the ball onto their side of the court. unintentionally, the ball strikes the ground and hits one of the opposing girls square in the face.

you and chaewon quickly turn away, stifling your laughter. "talk shit, get hit, bitch," chaewon whispers, her humor evident. despite finding it amusing, you lightly swat her shoulder.

throughout the season, the team's bond continues to deepen, fueled by a shared passion for the game. following matches against other schools, the entire team, except for coach yoo, gathers at sakura's expansive home near hybe university for girls' night. whether it's watching movies, playing board games, or engaging in heartfelt conversations, being in their company brings you immense joy.

in your younger days, you viewed tennis as an individual pursuit, given the one-on-one nature of matches on the court.

however, now immersed in the warmth of your team and experiencing the genuine friendship between you and the other girls, you gladly embrace this sense of unity. your heart swells as you wholeheartedly include your team in your affection, a clear indication of how much they mean to you.

"come on, y/n, serenade us with a song," yena's enthusiastic voice rang out. the team had gathered at sakura's house following a spirited match, and the evening had evolved into a cozy karaoke session, with everyone donning their pajamas. 

though everyone had already taken their turn at the microphone, one person hadn't yet had their moment - you. while you had been joining in between moments, you had intentionally stepped back to ensure others took the spotlight.

"i've been singing along!" you defended playfully, only to be met with a chorus of playful boos from all around.

"technically, you need to hold the microphone to truly call it singing," chaewon interjected, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. seated beside kazuha with a snack in hand, she seemed to be the resident instigator.

"alright, alright," you conceded.

"oh, so if we want y/n to do anything, all we need is for chaewon to ask?" chaeyeon quipped, addressing the entire team and causing a ripple of amused agreement.

a collective "ooh" echoed through the room as both you and chaewon found your faces turning the shade of ripe tomatoes. in your attempt to recover, you sought refuge behind yunjin, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. to your surprise, she didn't offer any help and instead stepped aside, leaving you feeling all too exposed.

that night, you sang your heart out, surprising everyone. luckily, they all joined in, and soon, everyone was singing together.

the hybe university women’s tennis team qualifies for the national tournament, not surprising anyone. the blood, sweat, and tears poured out from every single individual on the team are what got the team here and what will help this team.

after one practice session, coach yoo gathers the team and announces, “great news, everyone. i just received word from the international tennis confederation, and they informed me that if we win the national tournament, we can get a chance to qualify for the international collegiate tennis tournament!” cheers erupt from the entire team, further fanning the fire of your determination to do well in the national tournament.

the opposing teams sense the pressure radiating from both of you whenever you step onto the court, causing your opponents to shake in their shoes.

in your final match of the tournament, the entire team relies on you and chaewon. your match will decide if the team reclaims the title of national champions and earns a chance at the international tennis tournament. despite the weight of this responsibility, it doesn't negatively impact your performance.

you score the winning shot, and the team's cheers overwhelm your senses. in the height of the moment, chaewon drops her racket and wraps you in a tight hug. sweat and muscle fatigue from the long game don't matter. you hug her back just as tightly, the past resentments and bitterness gone.

the sky painted a clear blue canvas, as if the entire universe was joining in the celebration of your team's victory. yunjin's eyes welled up with tears as she raced towards you after the win, enveloping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. the team, along with coach yoo holding the championship trophy, met on the court for a group hug.

in this moment, perfection hung in the air. you had just helped your team win a national championship, opening doors to an international title quest. better yet, your best friend shared in this triumph. in addition to all this, you had been gradually healing from coach lim's impact on your friendship with chaewon.

yet, nothing perfect lasts forever.

you're 19 when your first college year wraps up on a high note – acing your classes and clinching the national championship with chaewon for the team. after much persuasion from you and yunjin, your parents allow you to spend the summer on campus. 

before summer workouts start, you and yunjin explore the city, soaking in the sights, indulging in tasty food, and sharing laughter over anything and everything. having yunjin bring her car to campus has been a real blessing. without it, you wouldn't have had as many opportunities to go on outings together.

one day, chaewon texts, inviting you and yunjin to join her and kazuha for dinner at a local restaurant. approaching the restaurant, a message from yunjin pops up, saying she can't make it. disappointment arises within you, but your appetite wins out, so you decide to head inside anyway.

chaewon is seated alone. with a playfully exaggerated tone, you quip, "what's a pretty lady like you doing here all by yourself?" banter between you and chaewon has grown more comfortable over the school year and your time as doubles partners, sometimes hinting at flirtation. it's all harmless fun – at least that's what you tell yourself.

“lucky for you, i recognized your voice, or else i might've considered knocking you out," chaewon retorts. a faint blush colors her cheeks. "kazuha had to cancel. she's not feeling well."

"yunjin won't make it either, so it's just us," you let chaewon know, scanning the menu as you speak. detecting a moment of silence, you ask, "is that okay with you?"

chaewon mock coughs, grinning. "oh, i'm suddenly feeling under the weather too," she says playfully. "i’m joking, it's perfectly good with me.”

throughout dinner, you and chaewon enjoy each other's company. she shares that her time in japan involved training under "the best coach ever," coach minatozaki, a journey that elevated her skills even higher. kazuha trained alongside her.

afterward, the craving for dessert leads you and chaewon to a nearby ice cream spot. as you walk, your hands brush multiple times, each touch setting off a warm blush across your cheeks. in the midst of this, you spot a man on a bicycle hurtling down the sidewalk. swiftly, you grab chaewon's hand, pulling her closer to you just in time to avert a collision.

“that jerk!” you exclaim, failing to notice the telltale redness that colors the tips of chaewon's ears.

“i'm not sure what would hurt more, me getting hit by that bike or being yanked by your man hands," chaewon retorts with a sarcastic tone, though her actions give her away as her fingers entwine with yours.

you both stand by the entrance of your dorm, ice cream in hand. “thank you for inviting me out for dinner. i know it wasn’t supposed to be just the both of us, but i still appreciate it," you tell chaewon. "i'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

chaewon nods, offering a small smile. "absolutely. don't be late," she says before giving your hand a gentle squeeze and heading to her own dorm, leaving you with a heart that's surprisingly light.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by the sight of yunjin absorbed in a game in front of the television. "i thought you were busy?" you ask.

"i was at that time, but now i'm not," yunjin responds without hesitation. a mischievous smile dances on her lips. "so, how was your date with chaewon?"

heat rushes to your face, turning it as hot as a desert. "it wasn't a date!" you hastily grab a pillow from the couch and playfully hurl it at her, hitting her squarely in the face.

as the summer workouts begin, coach yoo tailors the training regimen to ready the team for the qualifiers of the international tennis tournament. with the team getting ready for this crucial competition, coach yoo makes the call to abstain from bringing in any fresh first-years to the squad. her focus remains solely on fostering the talents of the current players under her wing.

sakura lends a hand to yunjin and kazuha during their singles drills, closely observing areas they could refine. chaeyeon and nako train together, polishing their technique to be at their highest level. beyond being the team's chief motivator and wellspring of energy, yena tirelessly hones her swings, aiming for perfection in the impending competition.

with the rest of the team pushing their physical and mental limits to prepare for the upcoming competition, you and chaewon feel propelled to surpass expectations, determined not to let the team down.

while both of you, along with the entire team, acknowledge your status as the squad's best players, you see it not as an excuse to take it easy, but as a driving force that ignites your determination.

staying on the courts after everyone else from the team has left has become routine for you. yunjin no longer bothers trying to convince you to return to the dorm with her. chaewon would occasionally make her way back after heading to her own dorm, though not every night.

today unfolded no differently. you lingered on the courts until almost midnight, the moon illuminating the sky. chaewon didn't drop by for a visit tonight. you can’t quite put a finger on why that fact is bothering you. you start packing up your belongings and start making your way to the dorms.

en route, you reach a crosswalk. despite the campus being deserted at this hour, you quickly glance both ways to ensure no car is approaching. you begin crossing, but right as you're in the middle, the roar of a powerful engine reaches your ears. before you can react, the last sight imprinted in your mind is two blazing headlights.

you slowly come to, the world around you a haze of unfamiliar sounds and sterile scents. your vision blurs, but as it gradually clears, the stark reality settles in. you're in a hospital room, the faint beeping of monitors and distant voices of medical staff echoing around you. 

pain courses through every fiber of your being. the source of agony remains elusive. it's as though every inch of your body is engulfed in a relentless blaze of torment.

the remnants of a car crash flash in your mind—metal crunching, the tires shrieking, the overpowering impact. it's a puzzle with missing pieces, a story that seems disjointed and surreal.

with a heavy breath, you struggle to focus, to understand the gravity of your situation. tubes and wires snake from your body, tethering you to machines that are monitoring your every heartbeat and breath. your head feels heavy like a storm of confusion rages within it.

a face comes into view, a doctor jotting down notes on a clipboard. your parents stand behind her, concern etched across their faces.

"good morning, sweetie. i'm dr. chou. you've just woken up from a two-week coma," dr. chou explains. that would explain the dryness in your throat. "on a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst, how bad is your pain right now?"

even in your dazed state, you don't need to think much about your answer. "ten," you rasp, the parched sensation in your throat intensifying.

"i'll give you some medication, but first i need to ask you a couple of questions," dr. chou informs you. "do you know your name?"

"yes, i'm y/n," you respond. your mother positions a cup of water by your lips to help you drink it, which you gulp down in a split second.

"good. you’re in the hospital near hybe university. now, do you remember what happened and how you ended up here?"

"not everything, but i do remember seeing a pair of bright lights and then waking up here," you explain to dr. chou. she proceeds to tell you that a drunk driver, a fellow student at the university, hit you. the driver was recklessly speeding late at night. thankfully, they were apprehended and would face the consequences.

dr. chou goes on to explain that yunjin located you when you didn't respond to her calls and texts. horrified by the sight, she immediately called for emergency assistance.

your heart aches at the thought of how yunjin must be feeling right now. you want to apologize, to express your gratitude, to tell her how thankful you are that she's your best friend. dr. chou tells you it's a miracle you're alive.

"how severe are my injuries?" you inquire of dr. chou.

"it's miraculous that your internal organs remained intact. however, your limbs bore the brunt of the impact," dr. chou begins. you gaze at your body and realize your arms are encased in casts, and one of your legs is too. you also feel a brace around your neck. hot tears well up as you take in the extent of the damage.

"i heard you're a tennis player at hybe university. that's quite an achievement. they say your team is the best in the nation," dr. chou begins softly. you can anticipate what's coming next. dr. chou takes a deep breath before continuing. "both of your arms were fractured during the accident, one from the car and the other from the impact with the ground."

the tears start to flow down your face. your chest feels heavy, and you're at a loss for how to process all of this. "your leg was also fractured, due to the collision."

"given these injuries, i can't provide an estimate of when you'll be able to get back on the court or if that will even be possible at all," dr. chou concludes, her voice carrying a gentleness, knowing that she just delivered the most devastating news.

sobs wrack your body. you're consumed by inconsolable grief. you can barely feel dr. chou's hand on your shoulder or hear her say, "i understand it's difficult now and it will continue to be for a while. just take it one day at a time." she looks at your family, your mother and father crying alongside you, "i'll step out now. just call if you need anything else."

the very essence of your existence, the labor you poured your soul into, had been mercilessly taken from you. it was a theft committed without showing even the slightest sign of remorse.

with tears blurring your vision and an agonizing weight engulfing your chest, you were left feeling like a hollow shell, drained of purpose and crushed by the weight of irreparable loss.

anger simmered within you. it was directed towards the world and the individual who had recklessly crashed into you on that particular night. however, your parents and teammates remained untouched by this anger. if anything, they became your anchors, keeping you steady through these trying times.

throughout your month-long confinement in the hospital, your teammates visited frequently. occasionally, coach yoo would accompany them. whether it was conveying their wishes for your swift recovery, bringing you your favorite snacks, or simply being a comforting presence, they stood by your side despite their own demanding training schedules.

the memory of yunjin's initial visit to your hospital room is still vivid. bursting into the room hours after receiving a text from your mother about your awakening, yunjin's presence remains etched in your mind. you recall her tears as she embraced you.

both of you find solace in each other's arms, tears flowing freely. the hug speaks softly, carrying murmurs of "i'm sorry" and "thank you."

when your teammates came to visit, they were aware of the sensitivity around discussing the sport. during their initial group visit, your parents had informed them about your situation beforehand, which led to tears from everyone.

particularly, chaewon chose to stay outside as the group entered your room, needing a moment to compose herself. she understood the significance of the sport to you, and its sudden absence affected her deeply as well. for a fleeting moment, she even contemplated not coming in at all.

that changed when kazuha went to find her and mentioned that you were looking for her.

as she stepped in, no words were necessary between the two of you. she sensed your pain, and you recognized that she was the one who could truly comprehend you. after all, she had been there from the start, witnessing your initial spark of passion for the game.

there was a time when she visited alone. your parents had gone home for a couple of days to attend to their careers and manage the house. you lay in bed, consumed by self-pity. the only yearning within you was to recover and step back onto the court, a dream that now felt as distant as the stars.

a knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. "come in," you murmured weakly.

chaewon entered, a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear with a heart bearing the words "get well soon" in her arms. "hi," she greeted softly, placing the items on a nearby table.

"how are you holding up?" her well-intentioned question fell flat as soon as it left her lips.

glaring at the wall, you struggled to maintain your composure. "i can't play anymore, chaewon." you paused, and the unspoken weight hung heavy in the air. "everything i've devoted my life to is gone." it took every ounce of strength to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"don't hold it in," chaewon urged gently, her gaze steady on you. confusion mingled with your sadness as you met her eyes. "i know you're furious, and i know you're hurting. so why keep it inside?" concern lined her expression.

at her words, your defenses crumbled. it had been weeks since you awoke in this hospital room, a place you longed to escape from. throughout those endless days, you had attempted to come to terms with the harsh reality before you—a reality where the sport you cherished had been ripped unceremoniously from your grasp.

once the torrent of sobs subsided, silent tears continued to stream down your cheeks. chaewon reached for a napkin, gently wiping away your tears.

"everything i've worked for," your voice quivered, "it's gone." a hiccup interrupted your words. "torn away from me."

"i wake up each day in this hospital bed, trapped in a nightmare i can't escape. the pain is relentless, chaewon, and i can't even move without feeling like i'm being torn apart." anger began to lace your words, burning with frustration. “i let the team down. i let you down.”

chaewon listened, her focus unwaveringly fixed on you. she fought back her own tears, determined to stand strong beside you. if you were holding on, then she would find her strength as well.

chaewon's voice was soft but resolute. "you didn't let anyone down, y/n. and don't you dare think that for a second." she leaned in closer, placing her hand gently over your cast. "we're a team, remember? this isn't your fault, and you're not alone in this."

your gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, the weight of your shattered dreams pressing heavily upon you. "i know you're trying to help, chaewon. but it's hard to see beyond this pain, beyond the loss."

"i might not be able to fully understand what you're going through, but i want you to know that you have the wholehearted support of everyone on the team, including coach yoo," chaewon's voice carries a gentle reassurance. "fuck what the doctors are saying. if they're predicting that you'll never get back on the court, i have complete faith that you'll prove them wrong. we'll get through this one day at a time."

a sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of resignation and a sliver of hope. chaewon's presence was a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. "i'm just scared, chaewon. scared that i won't ever be able to play again, that i'll be stuck like this forever."

“right now, the most important thing is your recovery. we'll explore every option, every avenue to help you heal and get back on your feet. and when you're ready, when you're strong enough, we'll find a way to get you back on that court,” chaewon reassures you.

after that day, chaewon began visiting more frequently on her own. she was a constant source of reassurance, firm in her conviction that you had the strength to overcome this obstacle.

while the rest of your teammates tiptoed around the subject of the sport, chaewon had no reservations. she understood that you wanted to hear about it, knowing that it would fuel your determination to recover.

chaewon eagerly shared practice schedules for the upcoming international tennis tournament, providing detailed accounts of each player's performance. her descriptions were vivid, her words laced with hope for your swift return to the court. she informed you that she's back to playing singles after coach yoo rearranged the team formation.

the accident had occurred at the start of summer, granting you two months to begin the healing process. astonishingly, the hospital's physical therapists marveled at your rapid progress. although you were far from fully recovered, you had made enough strides to move an arm without enduring excruciating pain.

prior to leaving the hospital and heading back to your dorm, after numerous discussions with your parents, dr. chou advised you to consider your second year as a time for recovery. this involved concentrating on both physical and mental healing, as well as working on muscle strength.

while you felt disappointed and angry about the situation, you couldn't deny that she had a point. the reality was that you wouldn't be able to play a significant role on the team this year due to your condition.

by the grace of the universe, your fractured leg was the first bone to mend, given that the brunt of the impact had been absorbed by your arms. it was weak, leaving you reminiscent of a newborn deer attempting its first steps. still, you found consolation in the fact that the wheelchair stint lasted only a month, sparing you from a year-long predicament.

you quietly resolved to make yunjin's upcoming birthday special, a token of gratitude for the times she had pushed you around.

with chaewon's guidance and the support of your friends and teammates, you eased into your recovery year. while the ache of not being able to actively participate in the sport still lingered, you channeled your energy into healing and strengthening. physical therapy sessions became a daily ritual, and each small achievement felt like a victory.

you sat on the bleachers, watching the practice sessions until they wrapped up. the girls had been incredibly supportive and kind throughout your tough journey, and now you wanted to repay their kindness in any way possible.

your second year kicks off with a wonky right leg and arm. writing proves to be nearly impossible, your arm strength is almost nonexistent. walking is equally challenging, as you wobble with every step.

you rely heavily on yunjin, often feeling guilty and apologizing for needing her assistance. however, she consistently dismisses your concerns, assuring you that it isn't a burden and that she's more than happy to help.

you continue to watch the practices. on one occasion, yunjin calls kazuha over for something, leaving you and chaewon by yourselves.

"i hate to ask, but could you assist me in getting back to my dorm? just in case i accidentally fall into a bush," you joke, aiming for a lighthearted tone.

chaewon hesitates, clearly taken aback by your humor in the midst of the situation. then, she breaks into a grin. "absolutely."

it turns into a routine. you join yunjin for classes and practice, where coach yoo has now arranged a shaded area for you. the gesture warms your heart. following practice, chaewon accompanies you back to your dorm, as yunjin and kazuha always seem to have plans afterward.

during the walks back to your dorm, you and chaewon talk about everything and nothing. from the latest updates on your recovery - "how's your left arm coming along?" she inquires.

"it's making progress, not as bad as before, but it's still lagging behind my right," you pause for a beat. "i suppose you could say i'm all-right now," you say, attempting a lighthearted joke.

chaewon narrows her eyes, though a suppressed chuckle escapes. "if you say another joke like that, i might just push you into a bush myself,” she counters with feigned sternness.

to sharing life updates - "do you remember my little sister?" she asks.

"eunchae? the last time i saw her, she was still a baby," you respond, attempting to recall her face.

chaewon nods, a fond smile playing on her lips. "she's a teenager now. a pain in the ass, but i love her." you catch a glint in chaewon's eyes, brimming with affection and admiration.

"that's cute. did something happen with her?" you inquire, struggling to keep up with chaewon's pace. she slows down, matching your steps.

she hesitates for a moment, her gaze averted. "we were video calling the other day, and she asked if i was in a relationship." a hint of exasperation laces chaewon's voice. "teenagers these days are so nosy."

your heart sinks, a surprising wave of disappointment washing over you. why did you even want to know? "well… are you?" you find yourself asking, your curiosity getting the better of you.

chaewon's face flushes with color, her embarrassment evident. "am i what?"

"are you in a relationship?" you muster the courage to ask, your pulse quickening.

chaewon stammers slightly, caught off guard. "no, no. i've been too focused on preparing for the international competition."

you nod in understanding, masking the emotions swirling within you. as you both arrive at the steps of your dorm, you offer a casual, "that's good to know." with those parting words, you turn away, leaving chaewon behind in a state of mild bewilderment and flustered surprise.

while enjoying dinner with yunjin on a weekend without practice, you find a question crossing your mind.

"hey, jin," you begin, capturing her attention.

"what's up?" yunjin responds, her mouth full of food.

"i was wondering, if i were to ask chaewon out on a date, do you think she'd say yes?" you casually inquire.

yunjin chokes on her food, causing you to widen your eyes in alarm. you quickly stand and start patting her back firmly to help her stop coughing.

"holy shit! yunjin, breathe!" you exclaim, continuing to pat her back.

yunjin manages to catch her breath. "i'm fine, i'm fine."

"what was all that about?" you ask, still in shock from witnessing your best friend nearly die.

yunjin tries to calm down after her near-death experience. "it's just, after all our years of friendship, this is my first time hearing you talk about dates or anything close to it."

"so, should i ask her?" you genuinely ask.

yunjin wants to scream. “yes!”

later that night, while you’re in bed, you overhear yunjin on a phone call in the living room.

"zuha, you will not believe this. it's finally happening!" you had no idea what yunjin was talking about.

the qualifiers for the international tennis tournament are just a week away. with the team's departure for france coming soon, their training sessions are intensifying. naturally, you observe it all, your eyes often drawn to chaewon's skilled movements on the court.

you can't help but admire how flawlessly she executes the game. while she started out aggressively on the court during your first year, she has incorporated elements of your gameplay over time. her style has grown more precise and strategic, a testament to her adaptability.

as practice concludes, coach yoo gathers the team for an announcement. "alright, ladies. our flight to france is tomorrow. please ensure you have all the necessary documents. practice is over; you're all free to go."

"y/n, can you hold down the fort for us?" coach yoo whispers to you. you offer her a reassuring smile.

"of course, coach." you would miss witnessing the team's practices, but you understand they are embarking on something significant. there's a faint ache in your heart, the knowledge that you won't partake in the tournament you played a role in securing. yet, through your teammates, you're gradually healing from the emotional aftermath of the accident.

before you get too lost in your thoughts, a tap on your shoulder interrupts you. "ready to head back?" you glance up at the source of the voice, finding chaewon offering her hand to help you up. despite your weak grip, you accept her assistance and manage to rise to your feet.

as you walk home together, your fingers remain intertwined with hers. along the way, she updates you on her life, shares gossip about a girl in her major, and recounts the tale of a cat scratching her face and leaving a scar on her lip.

listening to her stories with your hand in hers, a realization dawns on you. this is it. she's your person—the one you'd willingly give your heart to.

as you reach the steps of your dorm, you take a good look at chaewon. the moonlight delicately traces her features, leaving you breathless. her eyes glisten in the night, putting all the stars in the sky to shame.

"y/n, are you okay?" chaewon questions, still holding onto your hand.

you draw a deep breath, gathering the courage you need. "when you come back from france," you begin, "and after you secure our university a spot in the actual international tournament by winning the qualifiers, go on a date with me."

chaewon stammers, "what?" she's thankful for the night concealing her blush, hoping you won't notice how her cheeks burn.

"go on a date with me, after you win, of course," you smile at her tenderly. "i like you. a lot."

chaewon's mouth hangs open, your hand clasping hers providing a sense of stability. she lightly slaps your right arm, knowing its fragile state. "you can't just say that the day before i leave for another country!" she shields her reddening face with her free hand.

a chuckle escapes you, and you release her hand, already missing its warmth. "good luck, superstar. you're going to do great," you convey sincerely. before you turn and make your way back into your dorm, you lean in and plant a swift peck on her cheek.

for the next five minutes, chaewon stands outside your dorm building, attempting to process the whirlwind of emotions that just transpired.

as you step into your dorm, you're greeted by yunjin, who's frantically packing for the upcoming tournament in france. you offer your assistance, but she insists you need to rest.

while you're getting ready to get into bed, yunjin comes into your room, disrupting the short moment of peace you were enjoying.

yunjin's voice cuts through the air, "can you please enlighten me as to why zuha just called me up, telling me that chaewon has been screaming into her pillow for the past ten minutes?" 

the tennis team would be gone for two weeks. before yunjin's early morning departure, she entered your room, waking you from sleep and sharing a farewell hug. despite the irritation of being woken up at such an early hour, you understood the circumstances and hugged her back, offering your own words of luck.

over these two weeks, your phone is flooded with texts and pictures from the team, sharing their activities, tourist spots they visit, and their meals.

among them, chaewon's messages stand out. she doesn't bring up that night before her departure. instead, she provides updates on the opposing teams, your team's performance, and occasionally sends selfies of her trying on hats and quirky glasses from a tacky souvenir store.

you save each picture, creating a digital album of them all.

you yearned for complete healing, not just physically but also mentally. to achieve that, you knew you had to trace back to the roots of the problem.

on a bright and sunny afternoon, you dial your mother's number. with just a couple of rings, her voice comes through the phone, indicating her swift response.

“hi, honey. is something wrong?” your mother's concern is evident in her voice.

you chuckle at her quick worry. "can't i call my mom just to say hi?"

"you can, but you usually don’t, so forgive me for assuming," she responds with a playful tone.

you share a bit of small talk, catching up on each other's lives. eventually, you bring it up. "i've been considering switching personal coaches."

a momentary silence on your mother's end. "you're not satisfied with coach lim anymore? why?"

you proceed to explain your reasons: his toxic mindset, damaging ideologies, and dehumanizing treatment of his tennis players. while he may have imparted his knowledge of the sport to you, it pales in comparison to the emotional toll he's taken on both you and chaewon.

once you hang up, your mother wastes no time. she calls coach lim and informs him that his services are neither wanted nor needed anymore.

making the decision was undoubtedly difficult. you had been under that man's guidance since your early days in the sport. however, you understood that if you didn't break free sooner or later, the damage inflicted would only continue to grow.

during the two weeks that your team explored france, you found yourself back in dr. chou's office following a physical therapy session. your legs and arms had gained more strength, and the wobbling in your walk had diminished.

"y/n, how did the therapy session go?" dr. chou inquires with genuine concern in her voice.

"it was great, much better than the sessions right after the accident," you reply.

"that's wonderful to hear. how are you feeling?" dr. chou starts jotting down notes on her clipboard.

"i'm feeling significantly stronger. my walking is more stable now, and i've got a better grip with both hands," you honestly report.

dr. chou acknowledges your updates, her expression reflecting amazement. "i must admit, y/n, i've never witnessed such rapid recovery from such a severe accident."

in that moment, a glimmer of hope shines through.

"given the pace of your progress, i can project that you'll likely be back on the court around the middle of your third year if you continue with physical therapy and maintain your exercise regimen," dr. chou continues, offering more insights. however, your attention wavers, and tears quietly well up in your eyes.

following the agony and pain you faced from every single aspect, this present moment reveals the dream that seemed unattainable during your time in the hospital bed.

you waste no time in reaching out to your parents, eager to share the incredible development. their voices tremble with happiness over the phone, and your own emotions overflow, manifesting in tears of joy that you all share.

amid this heartfelt conversation, you make a silent decision to hold off on spreading the news to the team until their return from france, wanting to deliver it face-to-face when they return.

it’s 2 am and you're peacefully enveloped in the comfort of your warm bed, lost in deep slumber. the sudden buzzes from your phone jolt you awake, prompting a frustrated groan as you're reluctantly pulled from your restful sleep. with a reluctant glance at your phone, annoyance gives way to a rush of emotion. your heart quickens its pace, an involuntary fluttering as your lips curve into a widening smile.

text from: kim chaewon

you owe me a date

the team returns from france with victory under their belt. they've earned their place in the international collegiate tennis tournament set for two months down the road in the united states. when yunjin returns, you give her a massive hug, surprising her with your newfound strength.

amidst the tears of joy and celebration, you believe yunjin's tears might be because of the tournament win. but you're unaware that her tears are actually about you, about the slow return of strength to your once-broken arms.

you gather with the rest of the team as coach yoo calls everyone into a university room for an early morning meeting. it begins with rounds of congratulations, the team sharing tales of their time in france as both tourists and athletes in the tournament.

gradually, the atmosphere shifts to a more solemn tone as coach yoo delves into the rigorous training regimen to prepare for the upcoming international competition.

as the meeting draws to a close, coach yoo extends her gratitude to the team. "congratulations once again, ladies. while there's still a demanding journey ahead, we've come a long way and accomplished great things. let's continue pushing forward!" the room resonates with the team's spirited cheers, carried by coach yoo's motivating words.

"don't forget! victory party at my place tomorrow night," your captain, sakura, announces, eliciting even louder cheers from everyone.

"excuse me, coach," you speak softly, aiming not to disrupt the room's heightened atmosphere. all conversations halt, and all eyes turn to you, causing a twinge of embarrassment to sweep over you.

coach yoo's gaze fixes on you. "yes, y/n?"

"i'll be back on the court next year." the room falls so hushed that even the slightest sound could echo like a thunderclap. "my doctor confirmed it. she mentioned i'll be able to play again by the middle of my third year."

the following moments blur together, all you register are the joyful cheers and the flurry of hugs enveloping you. during the excitement, you catch sight of coach yoo's proud smile.

"jin, go ahead without me. i need to sort something out real quick," you inform your best friend while she gathers her belongings, getting ready to return to the dorm.

yunjin raises an eyebrow at you. "you could just say you want to talk with chaewon and go on a date with her. no need to lie," she says, rolling her eyes in amusement before waving you off.

"i think you owe me something," a voice chimes from behind you. you turn and find chaewon standing there.

with everyone else having already departed for their dorms or homes, the two of you are left alone. it's the first time you've spoken since her return from the tournament.

you don't reply. instead, you step closer, drawing her into a warm embrace. you hope she senses the depth of your emotions that words often fall short of expressing: happiness that she's back, relief that you could play again, and the overall joy you have for the entire team.

"i missed you," you murmur into the curve of her neck. heat rises to chaewon's face, and you can almost feel her heart beating against your own.

"stop being cheesy, it's just been two weeks," she retorts, yet her actions betray her words as she pulls you into a tighter embrace.

you let go of her and extend your arm towards her, offering your hand to hold. “let’s go on a date, shall we?” she gives your shoulder a light punch before taking your hand. 

you invested a significant amount of time brainstorming the ideal date concept for chaewon. you wanted something more exciting than a regular dinner but not overly grand, knowing chaewon would've hated that. the thought of a sunset picnic on a hill with a beautiful view under a shady tree came to mind and felt just right.

"you're not kidnapping me and taking me to the middle of nowhere just to kill me, right?" chaewon jests from the passenger seat of yunjin's car, generously lent for the occasion.

"don't start giving me ideas," you quip, your focus on the road. one hand is on the steering wheel while the other rests between you and chaewon, your fingers intertwined with hers. you feel her tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.

the remainder of the drive to your destination passes in silence, the simple pleasure of each other's company and the music filling the car. upon arrival, you park and move to open the trunk, retrieving the picnic essentials: a basket, a blanket, and a bouquet of flowers.

"here." you extend the flowers to chaewon as you both make yourselves comfortable on the blanket.

her eyebrow arches slightly. "and what's the occasion?"

"well, it's a date, isn't it?" you offer your reasoning with a playful grin. your words elicit a warm laugh from her, a sound that adds to the enchantment of the moment.

under the sheltering branches of a towering oak tree, you and chaewon find your secluded haven. the air is filled with a soft, balmy breeze that carries the scent of blooming flowers. the golden hues of the sunset cascade over the landscape.

the sky is a canvas painted with warm shades of pink, orange, and lavender, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your picnic. the fading sunlight casts a gentle glow over chaewon's features, highlighting the subtle flush on her cheeks. her eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and contentment, mirroring the serene beauty of the scene before you.

as you both share bites of food, your laughter mingles with the soothing rustle of leaves overhead. playful banter dances between you, accompanied by shared smiles. with each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to fade away, leaving only the company of each other and the beauty of the present.

the moon has ascended high in the sky, and the picnic basket now sits empty beside you. both you and chaewon lean against a tree, your head finding a comfortable resting place on her shoulder.

"don't you think it's crazy?" chaewon's voice pierces the quiet around you.

"what?" you respond.

chaewon lapses into silence for a moment. "just everything, really. i mean, our journey. we started out under that... monster, our childhoods and youth stripped away."

"now, we're with coach yoo. i can't even begin to describe how much happier i am under her guidance. she's made me fall even more in love with the sport," chaewon admits, her words brimming with admiration.

you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. coach yoo is the antithesis of coach lim—equally ambitious and disciplined but also kind and empathetic. she views her athletes as individuals, not mere machines.

"don't tell me you have a crush on coach yoo now," you tease, provoking a laugh from her.

"please, don't be ridiculous. i'm just grateful," chaewon counters. you echo her sentiment. "you know, i never actually hated you."

lifting your head from her shoulder, you turn to fully face her. "where's this coming from?"

"just something i wanted to say. i've realized that while i've said hurtful things to you before, i don't think i truly meant them," chaewon confesses. "i think my own hurt and resentment towards coach lim made me misdirect my frustrations onto you."

"i think i can relate," you admit, your voice carrying a weight of shared experience. "he used to constantly compare me to you, and it cut deep. i thought i was harboring anger towards you, but it was him who fueled my anger and resentment, not you," you confess.

the two of you are now facing each other, still seated on the blanket. chaewon reaches for your hands, her touch both comforting and affirming. "i'm proud of us," she says, her gaze intense as she looks into your eyes. "we've come so far, and we've managed to heal from his influence." her voice is resolute.

with a tender gesture, she cups your cheek, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your notice. "i'm especially proud of you," she continues, sincerity evident in her words. "you not only survived a car accident but also managed to recover in record time. you could have given up, but you didn't."

her touch and words hold a deep sense of reassurance. "you've made it this far, y/n. you've overcome challenges that most people would have simply given up on."

"thank you," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of gratitude and emotion. you lean in, placing your forehead gently against hers, savoring this almost cinematic moment between the two of you.

beneath the soft moonlight, chaewon's voice barely reaches you. "i can't just say that i like you too," she starts, and you open your eyes, surprise evident on your face.

her hands still cradle your cheeks with a delicate touch, her thumbs gently brushing against your skin. "this feeling inside me goes beyond that," she continues, her voice carrying a sense of sincerity that resonates within you.

then, in a whisper barely louder than the rustling leaves, she confesses, "i love you, y/n."

"when i'm with you like this, it feels like everything's in the right place. like all the things i've been through were worth it, just to be with you.” chaewon pauses, seeking an answer in your eyes.

your heart's a jumble of emotions. you're on an emotional rollercoaster, uncertain where to land.

in the middle of the swirling sea of emotions within you, one truth shines like a guiding star: it’s her, only her.

“i thought you hated corny stuff,” you joke quietly, earning a soft chuckle from her.

her fingers graze your cheek, her touch feather-light yet electrifying. "i might hate corny stuff," she murmurs, her voice a mere whisper, "but i love you." and with that, her lips meet yours in a kiss that carries all the warmth, fondness, and hidden desires that have been swirling between you both.

her lips, soft and inviting, meld against yours with seamless grace—perfectly fitting against yours as if they were destined to be there. as your kiss deepens, you're aware of her hands gently shifting from your face to your neck, a subtle yet powerful gesture that speaks of her desire to draw you even closer to her. with each press, a spark of warmth ignites within you, spreading like wildfire through your veins.

you gently rest your hands on the sides of her waist, bridging the nonexistent gap between you two. your fingers trace along her sides, eliciting a soft sigh from her.

your senses intensify, capturing every detail: the subtle taste of her lingering lip balm, the synchronized rhythm of your heartbeats, and the gentle graze of her fingers against the nape of your neck.

you both ease back, the need for air breaking the connection, but your foreheads remain gently pressed together. "i love you too," you confess, witnessing a burden being lifted from chaewon's shoulders.

tears gather in chaewon's eyes. "good," she murmurs, then lets out a laugh infused with happiness.

a short silence envelops you before she breaks it. "you know, yunjin and kazuha made a bet on when we'd finally admit it to each other."

the following day, the two of you arrive at sakura's house hand in hand, your fingers interlaced. your teammates exchange knowing glances among themselves, a silent understanding passing between them. you make a mental note to address that curiosity on a different occasion.

coach yoo graces the victory party with her presence before things become too lively. just before she departs, she approaches both of you with a sly smile. "so, who said it first?"

you and chaewon share a puzzled glance, a momentary confusion crossing your features. nevertheless, you respond, "technically, i admitted that i liked her first, but she said 'i love you' first."

as the words hang in the air, a mixture of groans and cheers erupts from your teammates, their reactions varying from exasperation to celebration.

"i told you all y/n would confess first!" coach yoo announces triumphantly to the team.

you're left speechless, realizing even your coach had placed bets on you and chaewon. coach yoo departs with a knowing smile and a few extra dollars in her pocket.

you step away from chaewon to give her some time to socialize, and you join yunjin to catch up. after a warm hug with yunjin, you make your way upstairs to the balcony, seeking a breath of fresh air. the view from the balcony showcases the campus, its close proximity to the university apparent.

you gaze at the tennis courts in the distance, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. so much has unfolded, and though the future remains uncertain, you're not overly concerned.

your affection for the sport endures, but you've come to understand that your identity encompasses more than just your skill in a sport. with the support of your teammates, chaewon, and your family, you've embraced this realization.

you're pulled from your thoughts by the sensation of arms gently encircling your waist, and a chin resting on your shoulder.

"hey," chaewon whispers, her voice tickling your ear. "what are you doing up here? i missed you."

turning to face her, you lay your hands on top of hers. "just needed some fresh air. didn't know you'd be this clingy," you tease.

"shut up," she retorts, nestling her head against your neck.

a chuckle escapes you as you pull her into a tighter embrace. "the international tennis championship is coming up in a few months. you'll win, right?" you ask playfully, avoiding putting any more pressure on her.

but chaewon is chaewon, never one to shy away from a challenge. "of course, i will," she replies, drawing back to meet your gaze. "and our third year is approaching. you'll be back on the court, better than ever, won't you?" her tone matches the one you used earlier.

confidence brims in your response. "absolutely."

while your recovery is ongoing, you're farther along than anyone expected. with chaewon beside you, you have full assurance in your ability to conquer any challenges that lie ahead.

the seeds of resentment and bitterness that once existed have now blossomed into a garden of genuine love and admiration.

"i love you," chaewon declares, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. "so much."

"and here you were always giving me a hard time for being cheesy," you retort with a grin.

she playfully nudges you away, but you maintain your grip on her hips. "whatever.”

laughter rings out. this is it, the feeling that no trophy or title can match.

"i love you so much more, chaewon."

additional notes: could this have been done with fewer words? yes. but am i insane? also yes. in all seriousness, this is quite a long piece. if you’ve made it this far and read it all, i can’t begin to express how grateful i am that you gave my work a chance. i wanted to bring this fic to life just as i envisioned, which is why the word count might seem hefty for a one-shot. please let me know what you think by either leaving a comment or sending your thoughts through an ask! can y’all tell i never got over izone? did anyone notice the twice cameos? i just want to clarify that coach lim is not nayeon!  thank you one again for reading!