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sukirichi · 2 days

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 009 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. 18+. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. very suggestive. toxic relationships. unedited. kiyoomi is horny. and uh suna too

notes. we are in kiyoomi arccc whewww, also i think i mentioned the word balls like three times. anyways.

wc. 10.8k

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[ NINE ] i know a place, it’s somewhere I go when I need to remember your face. we get married in our heads, something to do while we try to recall how we met

You were still reeling from your shock by the time your Mother showed up beside you. She must have noticed the quite interesting crowd of the royals and their parents, and couldn’t wait to indulge in the drama. A nosy creature, your mother was, but her presence comforted you. You had heard about it before – the tradition of having your last dance on your debutante ball would be your destined lover. Your mother would know; your father was her last dance. But you couldn’t remember it clearly, not when your only memory of your debut ball was the sinking dread of coming out into society and having to be removed from the comfort of your bedroom.

“My last dance,” you mused, plastering an apologetic smile as you turned to the older Prince. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I hadn’t known it was you.”

“As I’ve mentioned, I am the Forgotten Prince.”

Kanami ignored her son’s remark and clapped her hands. “It was a beautiful last dance as well. In fact, I’m certain your Mother remembers it.”

“I do! Oh, Princess, Miss Sakusa is right. I still remember that first time you danced with one of the Princes! It was magical!”

“It must be,” quipped Suna, who possessively wrapped an arm around your waist. He was close enough you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, and even without looking at him, you could tell he was glaring at his brother. “Kiyoomi is a fantastic dancer. But tradition aside, fate sure has a funny way of working out because I wasn’t her last dance, yet she married me. I am a lucky Prince for that.”

“You weren’t even at her debut ball,” mumbled the Second Prince, causing your eyes to nearly pop out your head.

You knew it was rare for royals to attend the birthday balls of even noble families, but finding out that your husband hadn’t danced with you on your special night was a different kind of hurt.

“The Crown Prince is a lucky man, indeed,” sighed Kanami dreamily, unaware of the tension between you four – with the brothers ready to tear at each other’s throat, and Iris’ smile slowly transforming into a grimace. An eventful night, indeed. “So, Your Highness, any thoughts on my invitation?”

You didn’t give it a second thought.

“I would love to visit Itachiyama, Kanami.”

“Splendid! Oh, come, come, we have much to talk about!” she stole you away despite your husband’s protests, and soon, you were led away from the crowd. It was all up to your Mother to hold Rintaro back. Glancing back at your husband worriedly, all the worries faded away. Because he wasn’t even looking at you, but rather at Iris, who clutched her head and murmured something while Rintaro fretted over her. The only person who looked at you was Prince Kiyoomi, his handsome face stoic while his mother yapped in your ear.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made this old woman.”

You turned away from her son’s intense gaze, waving a dismissive hand in the hair. “Please. You are hardly old. I can only hope I look as good as you at that age.”

“Dear, you flatter me too much!”

Smiling at her cuteness, you glanced around the room to look at her again. It seemed like she knew she would be the tonight’s topic, as the Princess’ red lips flattened into a thin line. You almost had the urge to smile wickedly. Almost, if she hadn’t been leaning against your husband for support. You wanted to scoff. She really had the audacity to pretend she was the poor one here – and because of what? Because her mother in law disapproved of her?

She had everything already. She had your husband’s heart, and you couldn’t even keep his attention on you for longer than ten minutes.

The Princess needed to stop acting like a kicked puppy. Otherwise, you would truly give in to the desire to kick her until she whined and cried at your feet.

Gods. Since when had you been so violent?

“As much as I am looking forward to our trip, however, I cannot help but wonder why you seemed… against Princess Iris,” you voiced your thoughts out, feigning innocence. “I am only assuming, of course. I do not mean to say you hold any animosity towards Her Highness.”

“You are not wrong. I do hold some ‘animosity’ towards her,” chuckled the free-mouthed Kanami, almost as if she didn’t care anyone could hear. She was too laid-back for a foreign guest, but you supposed with her wealth and fame, along with the fact she was the biological mother of the Second Prince, her confidence made sense. “I am well aware it is wrong, and I could be gravely punished for speaking ill about the royals, but… I never quite liked her for my son. They were never a great fit.”

“Is it because he is older?”

“Pssh. The age gap hardly matters. He is only three years older. But there is something about Iris… something… off. I mean, I know my place. It is not like I married the King or was promised any security or titles when I birthed his son, but I am still his mother, and surely I have the right to care about his future. That includes who he marries, and quite frankly, I dislike his wife. She seems ingenuine.”

“How so?”

Kanami’s cheeks puckered out. “Well, imagine my shock when my son – who spends most of his time hiding away in his room with his nose buried in a book – suddenly becomes a husband in a fortnight! And to her, no less. It is all too suspicious, I tell you. I have never heard nice things about that girl and her mother.”

“Her mother was an honorable and loyal follower of the Crown. Despite being from Itachiyama, they pledged their lives to the Crown.”

“Which is odd in itself, because Itachiyama is a great country. We are peaceful, and if there are issues within the people, it is resolved immediately. So that whole sham of a story of her mother ‘defecting’ and moving here for a better life sounds unbelievable,” she shook her head, lowering her voice as she hid her lips behind her palm. “And I know her mother. Kate. She has always been ambitious, scarily so.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Because years ago, when His Majesty visited Itachiyama, I was not the one who meant to end up in his bed,” she admitted with a wince, “Kate had always set her sights on greater things. If she couldn’t be his wife, she could be his concubine, at the very least. And oh, His Majesty was smitten with her. She was a wonderful performer, and they shared too many drinks, but… Well, I, myself, am lost on what happened next. The King and I conversed the whole night, and I felt a spark, you know?”

Your head spun with all this information. You always knew the Royal Family Tree was a mess, thanks to the late King’s trysts with multiple women. But hearing about the history of it all caused your head to ache.

“I see. And that night, Kiyoomi was conceived.”

“He was. And Kate never spoke to me again. Next thing I know, I heard she moved to Inarizaki, and I figured she still hadn’t given up on the King. So when my son informed he was now married to Kate’s daughter, I was restless. I am most certain this had to be her doing.”

“Where is she now? Iris’ mother?”

“I don’t know,” she blinked, as if realizing this now, too. “She disappeared one day, and each time I asked Iris how her mother was faring, she’d stop speaking completely.”

“Perhaps she is not on good terms with her mother and is uncomfortable about the topic.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, and then tilted her head to the side, a smirk on her pretty face. “Is it rude of me to say I wish my son married you instead? I know you are smitten with your Prince, but a mother can hope, can she not?”

The rest of the night, Miss Sakusa terrorized the guests. It was uncanny seeing how different she was to her son, who barely spoke a word. She was bright and lively, lived for sarcasm, and seemed to have a penchant for making Iris uncomfortable. You honestly would’ve felt bad if you didn’t agree to the mean things Kanami said about her. But that aside, you still couldn’t move over the fact that Iris was a huge contrast to Maiko. Maiko and Oikawa’s marriage, you understood. She came from an influential noble family, and so did Tooru. But who was Iris, exactly? How exactly did a citizen from Itachiyama, without a father and a mysterious, greedy mother end up being married to a Prince also in line for the crown?

Could it be that Kanami was right? Did Iris’ mother plan all of this – all to have a spot in the throne? If it was true, then you couldn’t cross out the possibility Iris may have seduced Rintaro when they were teenagers. He was the Crown Prince, for goodness’ sake. There was no quicker ticket to the throne than to have the rightful heir be smitten with you.

All this thinking wasn’t good for the night.

You were supposed to enjoy, and so you stole a glass when a servant passed and down the drink, uncaring if people thought it to be ungraceful for a Princess. It was an intimate gathering, anyway, with only the royal family and some of your closest friends and relatives. Surely they would understand you needed to loosen up.

Breaking free from Kanami, who had now taken her attentions to fixing Kiyoomi’s unruly curls, you watched as your Mother stood in front of the podium. She tapped the bread knife against her class, the clinking sound catching everyone’s attention. When she had them, your mother took a deep breath, searching for you in the crowd as a smile lit up her face.

You stiffened in your seat. Beside you, Rintaro took his place, his hand snaking down to rest on your thigh.

“I would like to thank everyone who graced us with their presence tonight,” your mother began, raising her glass in the air. “And I would like a toast in honor of Her Highness’ marriage, and to the Crown Prince, as well. I wish you both nothing but happiness and may you reign supreme.”

“To the Prince and Princess!” cheered the crowd. Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you leaned back against Rintaro’s chest and smiled, the perfect image of a couple in love. Rintaro played the part, too, squeezing your thigh and pressing a kiss on the curve of your cheek. You let out a giggle – though it sounded more like a gurgle at the shock. Rintaro chuckled at your reaction, his chest vibrating with the sound.

You couldn’t deal with this anymore.

The night went from perfect to messed up, to you being slapped in the face with reality. You felt bad for yourself for not learning. Just because your husband danced with you, and he’d been perfect the past few days, didn’t mean he wouldn’t run to Iris if given the chance. You’d seen it with your own eyes. How if stuck in a situation where he was forced to choose between the two, he would choose her. And it was pathetic. You had his ring on your finger. You had the burden of his crown and title on your shoulders when all you ever wanted was love. And he couldn’t even give you that. Worse, he meant none of it.

How was it so easy for him to laugh and kiss you like it was the most normal thing in the world when both of you knew deep down he did not want you?

It was becoming unbearable. You needed to leave. Now.

Prying yourself off his grasp, you ducked. “Excuse me.” Rintaro couldn’t get the chance to speak when you darted past him and into the restroom. There, you heard the racing of your heart loud and clear – a song of both yearning and hurt lingering deep in your bones. You couldn’t understand it – not when you glanced at your reflection in the mirror and wondered… why not me? You were beautiful. You were educated. Surely, he must have seen good qualities in you if he chose to court you for two years when there were other more charismatic bachelorettes out there. Or… did he choose you because he knew you were inexperienced? Because you were lonely, shy, and therefore the easiest to manipulate?

The worst part of it all was that he had already made his intentions clear. You knew he loved her. You saw it in his eyes – the way his eyes drooped when he spoke about her, and his voice grew softer. How he yearned for her so badly talking about her hurt. But Maiko had given you false hope, and his sweet gestures didn’t help. This would all be easier if he hurt you, like he had back at your honeymoon, because then at least you would have a greater reason to hate him.

And that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

To turn all this love into hate.

So letting him go would be easier. Although it never was.

Gripping the edge of the sink, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Count from one to eight with your eyes closed and focus only on the sensation of your lungs expanding and retracting. Do not think about him, do not think about his kisses, or his hand on your thigh, or how he called you beautiful –

“So this is where you were.”

You raised your head. Rintaro swung the door open, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you inquisitively. You both stared at each other like that for a moment, letting all the unspoken words just hang in the air until he broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, sounding defeated. And this time, it sounded like he meant it. “You know I don’t wish to lie to your parents like that.”

You shrugged, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. It became harder to breathe when he was around – all handsome and every bit the piece of your greatest desire.

“It’s just another night we have to see the end of.”

“Are you really going to Itachiyama?” he craned his head, eyes narrowed. “I cannot accompany you.”

“I did not ask you to.”

“I know, but,” he tried to argue, crossing the distance in three long strides. Just like the other night at the Palace hallway, his large frame engulfed you, trapping you between him and the sink. With him this close, you could see the unmasked desperation written all over his face. The frustration. “It’s… it’s Kiyoomi. I am uncomfortable knowing you would be spending days with him. Alone, at that. At least take someone with you.”

“My maids are coming.”

“I do not mean the maids.”

“Then who should I bring? His precious wife?” you rolled your eyes, “In case you weren’t aware, she isn’t invited either.”

“She should be…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from planting your palms in his chest, and gave him a shove. Your stupid husband, all lean with muscle, barely budged. It irritated you further. “Oh, come on, Your Highness. Do not act like this inconveniences you. I will be away for days, and so is your lover’s husband. The two people standing in your way will be out of your hair. Shouldn’t you be rejoicing in delight? No better time to frolic around with your lover when your wife and her husband aren’t around.”

Rintaro’s jaw clenched.

“You are saying I should be happy my wife is going on vacation with another man.”

“It sounds to me like you are afraid of your own shadow,” you mocked, and Rintaro flinched back. He hadn’t expected the harsh truth of your words would pierce this deep. “I am not an adulterer, my Prince. It has never once occurred to me to seduce someone else when I am married. Besides, Iris seemed rather relieved at the prospect of having you all by herself for a week,” you reminded him, having seen the Princess’ newfound relief only moments after Kanami had announced you would be having a trip with her son. It made you want to laugh. “You should enjoy, my Prince. You can even fuck in our bedroom.”

Whatever distance he previously put between you disappeared.

Rintaro growled, slamming his chest into yours until there was nothing but your clothes separating you. He shook with fury, and you delighted in it. How you could provoke this reaction from him. And you laughed, or tried to, because all the noises you made got swallowed in your throat when Rintaro grabbed your throat. Not tight enough to choke you, but the pressure served as a warning. Swiping his thumb on your lower lip, Rintaro huffed.

“Every day you test my patience. I think I rather preferred you when you were more malleable.”

“Sounds like you married the wrong person, then,” you spat out, and Rintaro’s dark chuckle reverberated in the empty space of the room.

“Oh, I made no mistake choosing you, that I assure. You are perfect in my eyes, whether you believe it or not,” and sooner than you liked, your husband was off of you again. But he was still close enough that his fingers intertwined with yours, the touch shockingly gentle despite his apparent anger with you. “And because you are my perfect wife, and my Princess, we will go back out there with all smiles and laughter. We are to appear in love. Do you understand?”

You glared up at him defiantly.

“Fuck you, Rintaro.”

Your husband smirked. “Darling, I wish you would.”

You began packing for your trip to Itachiyama. It wasn’t supposed to be for another three days, since Kanami still had work and wanted to be free by the time you and Kiyoomi arrived, but after everything that happened between you and Rintaro, you were eager to leave. After that dreadful night at the ball where he forced you to hold his hand the entire time, your legs felt uncomfortable with slick.

As shameful as it was to admit, you hadn’t expected your husband’s anger would make you feel things. Sinful things that led you to sneaking your hands down your thighs when you got home. And by the Gods, you bit your lip so hard to not scream his name when he was just in the other room.

Another moment spent with him was just pure torture. So, you were running away.

It wasn’t the bravest thing to do, but you already tried braving it all, only to fail spectacularly. You were still weak around him, and until you managed enough strength to actually pretend you didn’t care about Rintaro, the distance sounded like bliss. Even if your husband eventually supported you in this trip, because ‘he can finally spend more time with Iris.’ Right. You wanted him to be happy about this, but heavens, couldn’t he act a little less eager to have you gone?

You think you would lose it if he truly fucked her in your bed.

“Call me when you get there,” Rintaro’s voice drifted through the wind, and you swallowed. You were now at the airport, and he stood there below the staircase, hands shoved in his pockets. Your heart ached at the sight of him – so handsome with the wind messing up his hair, his cheeks just slighty flushed from the cold, and his lips plump and swollen still from the farewell kiss he gave you. It was all just an act, of course, since there must be some lingering paparazzi, but you still felt him. You could still taste the mint of his toothpaste on your tongue, his strawberry candy lingering at your taste buds.

But of course, he didn’t love you.

You felt the lack of that, too.

“I’ll see you,” was all you said before turning around, already looking inside the plane and spotting Kiyoomi.

He sat on the seat across from you, his eyes closed with music playing in his headphones. He looked so peaceful like this. For once, he wasn’t frowning, and it was then that nervousness settled in you as you awkwardly shifted in your seat. You still weren’t quite too fond of the Second Prince – his dry remarks always baffled you. He always left you wondering if you should laugh it off, or if you should apologize. If not that, his silence itself was completely unsettling. And when he opened his eyes, his body as still as water when he regarded you, you were certain you stopped breathing.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yes. I am.”

The Prince nods, looking outside the window. You did, too, and then regretted it when you caught sight of Iris and Rintaro outside the limos, huddled together for warmth. To other people’s eyes, it would just be two people waving goodbye to their spouses as they left. But you and Kiyoomi knew better.

Wriggling back to make himself more comfortable in his seat, Kiyoomi turned up the volume in his phone. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

You wished you could agree.

When you woke, you had arrived in Itachiyama. It was only a forty-five minute flight, but you dozed off nonetheless, and when you did, Kiyoomi had already wrapped a blanket around you. You thanked the silent Prince for it, but he made no gesture to say whether he heard you or not. He was a gentleman, at least. Holding your hand as you made your way down the plane, opening the doors for you into his car, and offering you drinks as the driver headed to Kiyoomi’s farmhouse.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with my mother. She can be quite persuasive.”

You looked back at Kiyoomi. You had been staring at all the billboards of Kanami; commercial ads, movie promotions, and the like. It stunned you again how this loud and flashy woman was the mother of a silent, brooding man. Even now, he had himself glued to his seat, adamant to put distance between you both with his arms crossed against his chest. “I was delighted by her invitation,” you tell him, glancing outside the windows again at another huge billboard of Kanami eating local ramen noodles. ‘MUST TRY!’ it was captioned, and they colored her cheeks red from the spicy flavor. You chuckled. “Wow. She really is everywhere.”

Kiyoomi followed your gaze. “She’s Itachiyama’s darling,” he shrugged, and then leant forward until his elbows rested on his knees. Sheepish wasn’t a word you would use to describe the Second Prince, but he definitely looked like it right now. “I must let you know, my mother didn’t invite you to visit just because she felt like it. She… well, she wanted you to somehow see Itachiyama as your home.”

“But I already have a home.”

“Yes, but she is fond of you, and she’s delusional that you should’ve been married to me,” he scratched his cheek, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Then, his cheeks flushed red, and you felt heat crawling on your neck at the implication of his words. “Sorry. That was awkward.”

“It’s fine. You are a great man, so it’s not like being married to you sounds entirely bad.”

“Definitely beats being married to my brother.”

“I guess so,” you chuckled, expelling any thoughts of being married to Kiyoomi instead. It wasn’t such a bad thing, to be honest. He was tall, handsome, and respectful. All of the Princess were good-looking in their own ways, but Prince Kiyoomi held the type of regal beauty that you would have oil portraits of hanging on the entrance of your home. He was large, stood tall and imposing, but never did he actually make you feel small or irrelevant. And even with his mysterious and silent demeanor, his intimidating features did little to hide his humble and bashful nature underneath. Which you found adorable, but you would never say it out loud. Instead, you watched as a crowd gathered in the middle of the city. Children ran around laughing, and parents bought trinkets from the stalls set up at the edge of the road.

“What is that?”

“A culture festival. They hold it annually around this time of the year to welcome autumn and give thanks for prosperous harvests. It’s called Kōyō no Matsuri, or ‘Festival of the Changing Leaves.’ It lasts about eight days where the farmers come together and celebrate.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you pressed your palms against the window. “I heard about this from the Crown Prince. Something about Itachiyama being one of the main suppliers of harvest and livestock?”

“We’re mostly a farmer country, whilst Inarizaki is the more advanced and modern one. It’s mostly to do with how our terrain is just richer in natural riches, while Inarizaki boasts in academics and politics,” he informed, “On the third day of the festival, the farmers visit some shrines to offer thanks for their harvest, and on the fifth day, they gather around the old temples and castles before Itachiyama and Inarizaki were split into two.”

“Wow. I hadn’t known your country would be so rich with history.”

“Technically, both countries share the same history. They just took separate paths at the end of it all.”

Pushing yourself off from the window, the driver drove past from the festival commotion until more trees surrounded you. You figured you’d left the city and now travelled somewhere more remote – fitting for where Kiyoomi lived.

“Do you like it better here?”

“Yes. It’s much quieter, and here, people don’t care too much on how I’m supposed to act as a Prince. I’m not their Prince, after all. I’m just a half-blood who happened to be their spokesperson.”

Something about his tone told you there was more he wanted to say, but chose not to. You pondered over it – how the Princes were so different. Some loved their titles and basked in their wealth, while some took their duties seriously to serve their people better. And then there was Rintaro, who was nearly crushed by the pressure to become better than Ushijima, and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi, who remains an enigma to you. From what you heard about the Second Prince, people called him lazy, rarely attending meetings and showing up only when needed. It made you wonder how he was like as a little boy, who probably just wanted to live normally and in quiet, but because he was a Prince, he had to become someone else entirely.

Letting it go, you decided to change the topic. You were certain the Prince would share more with you about himself when he was ready.

“Your Highness, I would love to attend the festival.”

“Really?” his brows raised, and your eyes caught the motion of his vertical moles following the movement. “I mean, you can, but there would be lots of people. Wouldn’t you rather rest?”

“I’ve been doing nothing but rest the past few days. It would be nice to go out and do something. Besides, I wish to know more about your people.” And you meant it. You were barely a few hours in Itachiyama, but it already reminded you of the peaceful Greenville where you were raised. Itachiyama was starting to feel like home, like Kanami hoped.

Across you, you remained unaware of the Prince’s soft smile.

“I see. I shall take you to the festival tonight.”

Seeing as Kanami still had her schedule filled, you and Kiyoomi had the rest of the day to yourselves until she returned. His mother did his best to welcome you, though, even in her absence. When you arrived at Kiyoomi’s farmhouse, she had already left you a bouquet of roses and a handwritten card telling you how happy she was her ‘daughter’ was now in her home country. It made your heart soften, even more so when she lent you a black-and-yellow floral yukata for tonight’s festival.

“You look nice,” Kiyoomi commented when you descended from the stairs, some flower pins in your hair. Overall, you felt pretty. It felt nice to be out of corsets and long-sleeved dresses. You could tell Kiyoomi approved too, as his eyes lit up, but his lips remained the same with an impassive expression. Offering his arm, you gladly took it, letting him lead you out and into the awaiting chauffeur. “Did my mother tell you to wear that?”

“She did. She said it would be more appropriate to wear traditional clothing fitting for the festival,” you gave a little twirl, and Kiyoomi’s lips curled by the slightest. It was enough to make you happy, and you were practically bouncing in your seat as the city lights came into view. Kiyoomi’s farmhouse rested on the countryside; surrounded by nothing but hills and endless amounts of grass. Signal couldn’t reach there, too, so you left your phone behind.

Tonight, you would simply enjoy this trip.

“Do you attend often?”

“When I can, yes, but… It’s a rather intimate celebration for the farmers, and I feel like I don’t do much for them, so I mostly sit out at home.”

“But you are a farmer, too, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed, but the reddening of his ears told you it was more of embarrassment. “Who told you that?”

“Your mother,” you chuckled. Once you’d arrived at the city, and the driver had parked somewhere else, you looped your arm around Kiyoomi’s and ventured into the heart of thefestival. “And I’m not stupid – you live in a farmhouse and have your own barn. I just never thought you would be the nature type.”

“There are lots you don’t know about me.”

“I can always learn.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze casted downwards. You couldn’t read his expression; he was always so guarded. But before you could contemplate on it further, you were swept up in the festivities. Everyone around you wore a yukata, and young couples held hands while wearing matching bracelets. Kiyoomi had told you those bracelets were special only for this festival, that the symbol of the moon was to pay respects to the Heavens for the blessings they bestow. Parents also joined in the night, with their children eating caramelized apples, and other candies. Mostly, the stalls offered food from their harvests such as roasted chestnuts, rice cakes, and pumpkin dishes. There was such a strong sense of community within the people that you were overwhelmed – Inarizaki didn’t feel as homely as Itachiyama.

An hour later, your stomach was well beyond full. You’d tasted and tried everything the farmers and their wives made. And when they saw the delighted way you closed your eyes and moaned at the delicacies, they offered you more and more. Kiyoomi paid for everything despite your protests, saying he was the host, and your only job for tonight was to enjoy.

Well, you surely wouldn’t complain.

Once you’d eaten your fill, and purchased a fox mask that matched your yukata, a group of young men started banging their drums. A woman played her flute effortlessly even behind her crow mask. Beside her, more people in matching crow masks sang in a foreign language. It sounded like a serenade; something about the voices were sweet, calling out to you like you were being seduced, and the hypnotic beats of the drum made your hips sway. But the most shocking part of it all was when people began to join in and held their partners, bumping their masks as if they were kissing, their hands squeezing each other’s waists and chanting along to the song.

You were mesmerized.

“That’s the Harvesting Dance,” Kiyoomi whispered in your ear, “They dance in hopes to bring joy to the ancestral spirits for blessing them with good harvest this year.”

“Must it always be a man and a woman?”

“It’s… an intimate dance,” he struggled to let out, and you craned your head towards him. He’d bought himself a fox mask to match yours, claiming he’d feel more comfortable if people didn’t recognize him. “Like the union of man and woman, they have become one with the ancestral spirits. It’s a time for reconnecting to their old ways, and showing gratitude for the family they’ve been given. And, uhm…” he scratched the back of his ears, which had turned pinkish again, “Well, it’s not just about harvest, really. It is also a dance for fertile crops and fertile wombs.”

Realization dawned on you.

“Oh!”

“It is a newly married couple’s tradition to participate in the dance.”

You nodded at the information, feeling both flustered and entertained at the Prince’s bashfulness. You almost wanted to tease him more about it until you were dragged by a young woman, her male partner already waiting for her in the middle of the dance. She rotated her hips in a circle and jumped to the beat, head thrown back in laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, too – her laugh was contagious, and Kiyoomi was right. There was a sense of freedom when people didn’t know who you were.

“You lovebirds! Don’t miss out on the dance, unless you want the ancestral spirits to take away your virility!”

“Oh, thank you, but–”

“You are newly married, are you not?”

“I am, but–”

“Then come dance so you may be blessed with many healthy offspring!”

Sending a halfhearted apologetic smile to Prince, you dragged him with you. You realized he couldn’t see you, exactly, but your eyes were crinkled enough from your joy. He grumbled a bit, but otherwise didn’t complain. When the music played again, you mimicked the locals’ movements and giggled so hard your stomach hurt. Some of the steps were suggestive – a flirty brush of your knuckles on Kiyoomi’s chest, or him rubbing his mask tenderly at the sensitive spot of your neck. Through it all, you had to remain connected to each other. It was hard to tell who held who tighter – Kiyoomi had his hands planted on your hips with a deliciously vice-tight grip, and the fronts of his kimono had been undone by your teasing, restless hands.

You now understood why the dance encouraged fertility. There was so much seduction with only just your bodies, with no words needing to be spoken. And you couldn’t help but wonder – is this the way to Kiyoomi’s heart? Because he is not the best with words, so you had to touch him at all the right places?

You received your answer when the drums came to a crescendo before immediately halting. Like a growing orgasm, until it exploded from within, and you found yourself pressed up against Kiyoomi’s. Pressed close enough that his breathing matched yours. His eyes, already dark, grew impossibly darker.

“That was fun!” you bumped your mask with his, breathing hard underneath. “Has anyone told you you’re a great dancer?”

The Prince snorted. “I would be surprised if I wasn’t. I spent the good half of my childhood enduring dance lessons, thanks to my mother.”

You laughed hard at that. Already, this was becoming one of the best nights of your life. Back in Inarizaki, you didn’t go out much to socialize. All the other unmarried ladies seemed to be well-versed in charismatic social skills and effortlessly landed a husband within months after their debut into society. You, on the other hand, having grown up as an only child with busy parents, had no one to talk to. You stuttered a lot, and always stumbled on your own thoughts when voicing them out loud. It truly was a surprise to everyone that the Crown Prince found you interesting – even if that seemed a lifetime ago.

But you supposed you really weren’t the same person anymore. Because if you were still the same shy, bumbling young woman from years ago, you wouldn’t be here in Itachiyama, laughing without a care in the world with a handsome Prince at your side. He’d bought you more trinkets, and another set to gift to your mother when you returned home. You found it incredibly sweet, but of course, Kiyoomi only grumbled in embarrassment when you told him about it.

By the time Kiyoomi’s arms were filled with shopping bags, the crowd began to lessen. It was getting late, yet you were in no hurry, walking at a snail’s pace along the closed roads.

Silently hoping this moment would last forever.

“Your homeland is beautiful, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” he said, and his brows furrowed deep in thought – as if hesitating. “They end tonight’s celebration with a Lantern Lighting Ceremony. Would you like to see?”

Your jaw dropped. Can this night get any better?

“I would love to!”

Since some of Kiyoomi and your security were still discreetly following, he handed them the bags before leading you away from the roads and near a lake, just beside the heart of the city. There, floating hydrangeas decorated the water, looking like it came out of a painting. Lanterns were already being lit up from where you stood – some with a rented wooden boat, and the rest content to just remaining in the concrete pavement, their hands weaved together as they mumbled themselves.

You turned to Kiyoomi in question. “It works like a birthday wish,” he explained, politely bowing to the old man who sold lanterns and match sticks. “You say your greatest desire, and then you let go of the lantern. The ancestral spirits will hear of your prayer and grant it to you.”

Doing as he said, you close your eyes. You could hear Kiyoomi lighting the match as he lit up the lantern, and you wished for more of this – more joyful, peaceful nights. It seemed like a simple wish, but with your current predicament, you had to jump at any chance of luck you could get. After all, you would have to leave Itachiyama someday. Your life wasn’t always going to be like this – of dances, of candied apples, of lighting lanterns and simply feeling alive. Because you knew once you returned home, reality would set in. So you prayed, and desperately wished, to experience happiness.

Satisfied, you cracked your eyes open, beaming at how the golden lantern burned even brighter in Kiyoomi’s large hands. Seriously, his hands were so big and his fingers long he almost encompassed the entire paper globe. However, he only had his eyes on you, his expression somber and lips tight – almost as if he knew you had wished for something impossible, and he, too, wanted your wish to come true.

“Did you wish for anything?”

“No.” He shook his head, “I already have everything I could need. The farmers need the prayers more than I do.” Again, you were stunned by the Prince’s thoughtfulness. He turned to you to ask if you were ready to let go of the lantern, and you nodded, the both of you watching as it soared up high in the sky – the dark night decorated with a hundred little lanterns like stars rising from the lake.

It was pure magic.

“Whatever it is you wished for,” Kiyoomi mumbled, “I hope it will come true.”

Your lips wobbled. “I hope so too.”

He nodded, feeling awkward once more, and you nearly laughed. The Prince clearly wasn’t great at dealing with genuine emotions. “Are you tired? We can return home already.”

“I’d like to walk on the way back to the car. I don’t want the night to end just yet.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t against your idea. You shared the silence in peace, gratitude and pure, unabashed happiness blooming from within your chest. You suddenly missed your mother; wishing you could’ve taken her with you. She would’ve loved it here. She would shamelessly do the Harvesting Dance with your father, because they were still enamored with one another even after years of marriage. They were the reason you believed in true love and hoped to have it for yourself. But alas, fate had different plans for you.

It had made you fall in love with the wrong person and made you a Princess in the aftermath.

Sneaking a glance at Kiyoomi, you noticed he’d already taken off his mask. His handsome features were bathed in the moonlight, making him look even more ethereal than he already was. His features, strong, and dark, and sharp, yet his lips were curved so softly, his dark eyes nothing but tender and patient.

He held none of the malice or greed the other Princes had.

“Do you enjoy being Prince, Your Highness?” you blurted after a while, because talking seemed to be the better option than ogling at his beauty. No, you couldn’t do that. You were both married to someone else – and you would rather lose your title than be unfaithful like Rintaro.

Rintaro. Just the thought of his name soured your mood.

“Not quite,” he admitted, “It isn’t as grand as it sounds. There are lots of things to do, and a myriad of rules to follow. But I still think this responsibility bestowed on me is an honor. After all, not everyone has the privilege to be born with a purpose. Many people spend the rest of their lives looking for it, but mine was handed in a silver platter.”

“Hm. I never thought of it that way. I… I always thought you hated being Prince.”

“I do not despite it, but neither do I like it.”

“What would you be doing, then, if you were born as a commoner?”

He side eyed you, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. “Farming.”

You both laughed. Of course that was his answer. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

“What about you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and briefly glancing at the fat, extravagant ring on your finger. The sight of it made him wince, but he schooled his face into impassiveness before you could think about it. In return, you searched for his wedding ring too, frowning upon the realization he hadn’t worn it. “What would you be doing if you hadn’t married my brother?”

“Hmm… Managing the household… learning the business, although if you ask me, I really would have wanted to get married, regardless if it was to a royal or not. In fact, I never even dreamt of being a Princess. It just never seemed to be possible for me.”

“You’re a great Princess,” he commended, and that warmth blooming in your chest had fully sparked. “Who would you have married, then?”

“Anyone who loved me and cherished me,” you scrunched up your nose, feeling bashful. “I am quite the simpleton, aren’t I?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting simple things.”

His words held nothing but sincerity. Coming from a Prince who didn’t indulge in the lavishness he could have with his life, and opted for farming instead, you believed him. And it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder, like a breath you’d been holding had been released. Kiyoomi was like a breath of fresh air. He was so different from his brothers – so detached from the crown, yet so connected to the world and its humble gifts. Kita was different, too, but he held a sharp edge to him. He wielded his intelligence and knowledge like a weapon, because living anywhere near the throne was a battle in itself, but Kiyoomi was just… different.

In a world of polished gems, he shone brightly as a raw diamond.

“Your Highness, I… I know most of royal marriages are arranged, and rarely does it happen out of love, but why Iris? You are the second Prince. Anyone of you could have had anyone you wanted, and Iris didn’t seem wealthy or influential enough to be a royal spouse candidate. Why her?”

“Because she’s from Itachiyama.”

“That’s it?”

Kiyoomi licked his lips, thinking about his answer before he spoke them. “You are aware I’m the only son with a foreign mother. When I was born, they saw potential in me, to possibly unite the two territories into one again. But I was aloof, and liked to keep to myself, so I lacked in that department. When Iris had been presented to the Queen by her mother and they pledged their loyalty to the throne, she was made a royal scholar,” he glanced at you, gauging for your reaction. “You are right that she isn’t anyone’s first choice to be a Prince’s wife. She comes from a common family with nothing to her name. But she is intelligent, and she has always shown dedication to the throne. That was enough to convince the Queen we were the most sensible pair.”

“And is it working? Are we being united to your homeland?”

“No. Iris has barely stepped foot in Itachiyama,” This time, Kiyoomi turned away from you and licked his lips. “She mostly does work at the Palace.”

“Because Rintaro is there?”

“Precisely.” You knew he would answer that, but the image popping in your head was unkind – of Iris and Rintaro making love to one another while you weren’t around.

“Do you love her? Or hold affection for her, in the very least?”

“Not at all. I never wanted to marry, and my opinion of her hasn’t changed since we married,” the determination in his voice surprised you, a hardness settling over his features. “Royal marriages are always done with a political purpose, Princess. It was, and never will be, out of love.”

The conversation died at that. You didn’t press further, either, because you knew Kiyoomi hadn’t said those words to hurt you. He only meant to remind you. And you were thankful, because he chose to be honest, albeit cruelly, when everyone else made you a fool – a weak fool who had to be fed lies because people believed you wouldn’t be able to stomach the truth. Perhaps they were right, perhaps you were weak, but Kiyoomi didn’t look at you like that. He only looked at you like he despised everyone for even lying, or keeping secrets, and he’d made it his mission to be truthful.

Truly, your unexpected friendship with the Prince had been the greatest gift.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Your Highness,” you bowed to him, quite ready to retreat back into the guest room once you’d reached his farmhouse.

“It was my pleasure,” he returned the bow, yet remained frozen at the bottom of the staircase, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip nervously. “Oh, and Princess? Would you… come and like to meet my horses tomorrow? I think you would like them.”

Somehow, the thought of Kiyoomi introducing his horses to you, and nerding out about them, put a smile on your face. Getting to know the Princes was like unwrapping a gift – you never know if you would like what was inside. But you most definitely liked Kiyoomi, and you remained true to your word that you would learn everything about him. His horses, his history, the contents of his heart, and every inch of his farmhouse and barn if he would let you.

“I would love to.”

You couldn’t stop tossing and turning in your bed.

Today’s events still played on your mind like a loop. The festivities, the freedom that came with anonymity, the connection of the citizens to their culture and history – you realized they were so different from Inarizaki. Inarizaki had its great parts, too, like their dedication to the monarchy and the power they held. It was a country known for having many scholars as the academe was greatly funded by the monarchs, but somehow it always felt… detached. Detached from nature, detached from the basic aspects of humanity.

Inarizaki cared about greatness, and so did its people. It was the sole reason why they had such strict customs and adhered to the law like their life depended on it. Itachiyama was different. They weren’t the most advanced – their buildings not as tall, their country mostly surrounded by beaches or forests, with their people preferring the old ways. Yet somehow, you felt more at home here.

It reminded you of Greenville and summers spent chasing dragonflies and lying on the grass to sunbathe.

It reminded you of a childhood long gone.

Sighing to yourself, you slipped out of the covers. The clock read it was just quarter past two am. Kiyoomi’s staff were already asleep, and you were certain each footstep you took would cause the floorboards to creak. Still, there was only so little you could do in your room. The TV didn’t have cable, Kiyoomi wasn’t interested in having Wi-Fi, and the place was rather empty of anything that could entertain you.

Surely a little exploring wouldn’t hurt, though. Slipping your arms into your robe, you tied it around your waist and exited your room. The hallways were dark and empty, and you held your breath, tiptoeing around the halls. You didn’t know why you were so nervous to be caught. It wasn’t like you were doing something wrong, although you did look suspicious turning every knob and groaning when none opened.

What was the point of all these rooms if you couldn’t enter them?

Walking around, you studied every bit of Kiyoomi’s farmhouse. It was grand in size, and nothing about the chandeliers and marble floors were the least bit modest, but it felt homey. There were knick-knacks everywhere, messy childhood paintings and poorly drawn stick-figures hung up on the wall. Upon closer look, you saw Tobio and Tooru scribbled upon the drawings. Smiling to yourself, you took it all greedily – the lack of family pictures replaced by these artworks, the fresh flowers with Kanami’s name tagged on a card lovingly taken care of, and a single portrait of Kanami with a younger Kiyoomi on her lap.

You could imagine how once in the past, the brothers spent many nights in this house, ran around chasing each other with their high-pitched squeals.

They were boys before they became Princes.

They were brothers before they were rivals.

Your hands reached out for the drawings. Even Shinsuke’s was there, and to no one’s surprise, his was the best. The colors were always within the lines, and he had clean, smooth strokes of his brush. Keiji’s was second best, but his looked more like scribbles and sketches than a polished end result. Ushijima didn’t have any drawings, but a certain stick figure drawing from a little Tobio counted eight brothers holding hands. ‘Brothers forever’, he scrawled underneath, causing your heart to ache.

He hadn’t included Rintaro in the picture.

Letting go of the drawings with a frown, you took a step back and collided with something solid. You gasped, a scream nearly torn out your throat when you studied the figure now standing in front of you. Broad shouldered, with unruly curls surrounding his face, and his head tilted to the side in confusion – Prince Kiyoomi looked like a dream come true. One shouldn’t look this ethereal in the dark hallways of his house, with nothing but the moonlight slipping through the glass windows illuminating the sharpness of his cheekbones.

He stood so still and quiet you couldn’t hear him breathe. Had he been here for a while?

You placed a hand to calm your racing heart. “Your Highness. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, looking past you and to the drawings just as his brows pinched together. “I didn’t know you’d be awake, too. Is your room not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, no, it is. I’m just…”

“Feeling homesick?”

“Not quite,” you scrunched your nose, “Today was just amazing. I’m still reeling from the joy of it all.”

He nodded, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You watched him have an inner debate before he nodded again, gesturing to the staircase. “Follow me. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

The Prince led you to the hallway where his room and Kanami’s was located whenever she visited. At the end of the hall stood two grand double doors that could only be opened by a key from his pocket. The doors squeaked as it open, and you both coughed as dust fluttered through the space. Clearly, it hadn’t been used in a while, but that mattered little when he switched on the lights. Rows upon rows of books stood tall enough to nearly hit the ceiling. The room had a dome-shaped structure, with the walls carved in to make more spaces as bookshelves. In the middle sat a velvet red couch with a wooden table decorated with a vase of flowers. However, it wasn’t the books that took your breath away – it was the grand spiraling chandelier that slowly flickered to life like candles being lit, bathing the room in a warm, soothing light.

Unable to help yourself, you stepped inside, jaw dropped at the beauty of it all.

“This is my library.”

“This is marvelous,” you chuckled out, breathily, running your fingers over the spines of the books. They were covered in dust, but otherwise in pristine conditions. Most of them were classic collections too – the types of books you would only find in antique shops. And was that an official journal from an ancient royal? You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. This couldn’t be just a personal collection – these had to be an official record room.

“Are these all yours?”

“Some of it were my father’s. His Majesty liked to read.”

You glanced at Kiyoomi from under your lashes. He stood at an arm’s length away from you, casually leaning against the bookshelf whilst you pull out a random book. The Anthology of the First King, it read.

“You’re the first Prince who ever spoke of him.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze flittered over yours, from your fingers caressing the ancient book delicately, to the way a smile graced your face upon inhaling that addicting old book smell. His voice, if possible, grew quieter. “I know my brothers all dislike him, and I don’t blame them,” he continued, “But His Majesty raised me as best as he could. It may have been because of the power I could wield as a foreigner, but he came here often. He was the reason I grew up with a fondness for books.”

You hadn’t heard of that before. As far as you knew, the late King seemed absent in all of his son’s lives, but then again, the royal family had always been a complexity.

Turning away from the historical section, you beamed at the Prince. “Well, this is quite an impressive collection. His Majesty has taste.”

Kiyoomi fought back a smile. The gesture shouldn’t have looked as adorable as it did, and now you were fighting back a smile, too. You liked him this way – you like him much better here in Itachiyama. Whenever he was at the Palace, you could see the walls he surrounded himself with, how he closed himself from the world. But here? Here, he was just a man eager to talk about the things he loved, and you eagerly followed him when he gestured you to.

“This is my section,” he pointed to a rack spanning from floor to ceiling, then to the shelves next to it. “And that is Tooru’s. The one at the back is Keiji’s.”

Tooru’s section was… surprising, to say the least. He had all of Shakespeare’s books, with a multitude of romance and tragedy novels. His books looked to be the most loved out of everything you’d seen – with cracked spines, folded paper edges, and annotations on the pages. “Tooru’s? These are all romance novels.”

“It may be hard to believe, but he is a hopeless romantic,” Kiyoomi snickered, “Keiji, on the other hand, loves to read historical fiction. And don’t tell him I told you this, but he wrote three of these books here.”

“He’s a writer?!”

“A splendid one,” he boasted, pulling out a book titled The Fall of Belle. “He wrote this about Belleview Manor when he was eighteen. Belleview was notorious for housing the most, er, complicated royals, you see. He was inspired by it and turned it to a kingdom, writing something about soldiers and poets and kings. It’s a really good novel. I highly recommend you read it.”

Kiyoomi was already shoving Keiji’s novels into your arms before you could say anything. Next to Keiji’s was Shinsuke’s collection – unsurprisingly again, were mostly textbooks. The Itachiyaman Law, the Governance, the History of Inarizaki, The Fall of the Union. You weren’t too interested, so you moved onto the next shelves and blinked back at what you saw.

Beside you, the Prince cleared his throat in an attempt to hold back a smile. “That is Tobio’s section.”

“These are… balls.”

Instead of books placed on the shelves, they were balls, all held up carefully by expensive looking holders. Each one of them had signatures written on them with markers, along with a tag underneath of several dates. “Volleyballs, yes. He had these signed by his favorite players, and those are the dates of the matches,” he explained, slowly moving behind you until you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Looking up at the Prince, you saw he wasn’t looking at you, but rather at the sports equipment with what seemed like fondness, and regret, in his eyes.

“He’s always loved playing sports as a child. He was rather good at it, too. Shame he couldn’t go pro.”

“Because he’s a Prince?”

Kiyoomi nodded. “He may be the youngest, but that doesn’t mean he’s freed from his duties. The Queen knows the kingdom loves him so she has quite a grand plan for Tobio to start tours by himself and see if he’d be more successful in establishing connections with others,” shaking his head, the Prince closed his eyes. “He may marry soon, too.”

“He’s too young to be married.”

“He isn’t that young, but I know what you mean,” he said, “Although I think Tobio will find it the hardest to marry out of every one of us.”

“Why so?”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “He’s a romantic. Not like Tooru in the sense that he would recite Shakespeare’s sonnet to seduce a woman he likes, but in the sense that he still innocently believes he can marry someone of his choosing. That’d only work if she was a noblewoman, though. Otherwise he might experience the same fate as Shinsuke.”

Ah. Shinsuke and his maid – a tragedy in the making.

You looked away from Kiyoomi. Shuffling the books in your arms, you shuffled to the lone seat in the room and plopped down on it, wincing when your arms ached from the weight. “You know a lot about your brothers.”

“I’ve spent a long time watching them,” he confessed, and the sofa dipped beside you. He leant back against it, his long legs crossing over the other as he tilted his head back, watching what little he could of the stars visible from the dome-like ceiling. “It wasn’t always like this. There was a point in our lives we used to be closer and didn’t care too much about the throne.”

“Who were you closest with?”

“Tooru and Keiji. They both loved reading, and so did I. I wasn’t very close with the younger ones because they were rambunctious, especially the twins. But I like Tobio a lot,” he smiled, albeit sadly. “I hope the crown never fails him. I would do anything to ensure he stays unaffected by the harshness of it.”

“He’s a precious boy,” you agreed, and then thought back to the drawings in Kiyoomi’s living room. Biting your lip, you suddenly stood up and headed for the last shelf at the end of the room. Silently hoping, wishing, it was Rintaro’s section. Behind you, you heard the Prince shuffle on his feet as he followed you around. “And… Rintaro? Were you close with him back then, too?”

You already expected the answer, but it didn’t disappoint you any less when you heard it.

“No. The Queen always kept him isolated. I rarely saw him growing up, but on the few times I did, he always looked like he wanted to play with us. He wasn’t allowed, though. Her Majesty was… eerily wary of him getting too close with his brothers,” Kiyoomi let on, his handsome face contorting to that of discomfort when you blankly stared at him. Then, his ears reddened, and he coughed out of nowhere, his large palm covering his mouth. “I fear I may have talked too much. Please, look around. I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like.”

Happy to do so, you left no inch and corner of the library unturned. Tooru had the most interesting collection with his romance novels, but you found Keiji’s section to be the most curious. A moment later, you had a dozen books stacked on top of each other at the nearby table. You just wanted one more – a book about Tobio’s favorite sport so you could ask the sweet Prince about it when you returned home.

Unfortunately, the first five rows of Tobio’s shelf consisted of his signed volleyballs, and his books sat at the top ones. You had to stand on your tiptoes, only for your fingers to barely graze the spine of it. Damn it. Taking your slippers off, you bunched your nightgown and robe in your hand and used your free arm to hoist yourself up. Your feet landed on the wooden boards of the shelf as you struggled to reach for A Dummy’s Guide to Volleyball when your foot slipped.

The ground disappeared beneath you.

Gravity consumed you as you fell, the book you’d been reaching for sliding out of its place and nearly knocking into your forehead. But it never came. Your face never smacked the ground, and your bum seemed safe, too. Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist until you landed on a hard body with an ‘oof’, the breath knocked out of your windpipe.

Kiyoomi groaned underneath you.

Gasping, you realized you’d accidentally elbowed him in the chest. The poor prince had turned red in the face as he struggled to breathe, and you hoisted yourself up to move yourself out of the way, realizing a little too late how little you wore. Or how thin your nightgown was. Or how you didn’t wear a bra to sleep and forgot to wear one when you left the room, and now your hardened nipples were brushing against his chest. Underneath you, Kiyoomi inhaled in sharply, his dark eyes darting from your cleavage and to the books – the movement so fast you wondered if he had whiplash.

You froze. This was… quite a predicament to be in.

If you slid your body upward, your lace panties would brush against his crotch. If you slid yourself downwards, you’d graze your sensitive nipples on his silk blouse. But if you slid sideways, that would mean you had to rise your upper body to get your knees to stop straddling him, and he’d have an even closer view of your breasts.

In conclusion, nothing would work.

“Let me, just, uh, move,” the Prince groaned beneath you, and you nodded fervently. He could do whatever he wanted at this point as long as it meant you’d both be separated. However, luck was not on his side either. As soon as the Prince gripped your hips to lift you off of him, his hips rose on instinct, accidentally thrusting into you.

The Prince stopped breathing, and so did you.

Within the blink of an eye, the Prince had torn you off his body – and he was suddenly at the other side of the room. Color drained from his face just as his skin from the neck down blistered red, the poor Prince snatching a nearby book to hide the growing tent in his pants.

“My apologies,” he blurted out, looking at everywhere but you. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” standing up, you dusted yourself off and wobbled on your feet. Great. Your legs felt weak, and your voice didn’t come out as confident and composed as you liked it to be. Rather, you were both breathless – and you couldn’t tell if it was from the adrenaline, or the delicious way his body molded to yours.

A pleasure you would not be thinking of. Ever. Again.

“Uhm. Thank you. Your library is really nice.”

The Prince nodded, taking his lips between his teeth. “I should, uh. I should go.”

“Yes, that might be for the best,” you croaked out, and just like that, the Prince was gone. The heavy slamming of the doors was the last thing you heard before you were engulfed in a deafening silence.

That night, you did not get any sleep at all.

And you were restless for all the wrong reasons.

210 notes · View notes

nhlclover · 2 days

Text

𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: despite your differing personalities, you and quinn find yourselves drawn to each other. but you know what they say? opposites attract.

warnings: none :)

word count: 0.78k

Quinn leaned back on the club's sleek bar, the polished surface cool against his skin as he observed the chaotic dancefloor. The thumping bass reverberated through the room, syncing with the erratic flickering of the strobe lights.

Amidst the mass of dancers, his eyes were on one figure in particular. You stood out among the pulsating crowd, commanding attention effortlessly. Adorned in a shimmering mini-dress that caught the lights with every sway of your hips, you exuded a magnetic aura. Quinn’s eyes followed your graceful movements as you twirled around with one of your friends, laughter ringing out above the music. In the midst of the chaotic dance floor was where you seemed most in your element.

It wasn’t uncommon for your relationship to raise eyebrows. You had always been a glass-half-full kind of person and always carried an effervescent demeanor. Your positivity was a beacon, drawing people towards you like moths to a flame. Meanwhile, Quinn was on the quieter side, not necessarily grumpy but far from the ray of sunshine that you were. Compared to you, Quinn was the calm after the storm, a steadying force that balanced your whirlwind of energy.

As Quinn continued to watch your effortless moves, he marveled at the way you situated yourself in the mass of people, your smile never wavering and your movements staying fluid and confident. Moments like these reminded Quinn of how he was drawn to you in the first place. You brought a lightness to his life, a spark that he hadn't realized he was missing until you came along.

His brief daydream was interrupted by Maya, one of your friends, sidling up beside him. “Hey, Quinn,” she said, knocking the neck of her beer against his glass.

Quinn offered her a small smile. “Hey, Maya. Having a good time?”

She took a sip of her beer and leaned on the bar beside him, her eyes following his gaze to you. “Always,” she replied with a grin. “You know, I’ve never seen her this happy with anyone before. How are you two doing?”

Quinn's smile widened as he glanced back at Maya. "We're good," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "She's amazing, you know that.”

Maya looked between the two of you, a small smile on her lips. “You guys are total opposites though, aren’t you?” she asked.

Quinn chuckled softly, glancing back at you as you continued to dance with abandon. “Yeah, you could say that. But somehow, it works.”

Maya nodded knowingly. “She brings you out of your shell.”

“Exactly,” Quinn replied with a nod. “Even when she doesn’t realize it.”

As if on cue, you bounded over, a radiant grin lighting up your face. “Quinn! Come dance with me!”

Quinn chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at your presence. “I don’t know how to dance, y/n.”

Your eyes sparkled, shrugging your shoulders as you took hold of Quinn’s hand. “Well, it’s never too late to learn!”

Reluctantly, Quinn allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. The music seemed louder there, the bass thrumming in his chest. You started moving immediately, your body swaying in time with the beat. Quinn tried to mimic your movements, feeling awkward and out of place.

You took notice and giggled. “Quinn, it wouldn’t kill you to move your body a little.”

You placed your hands on his hips, forcing them to move to the music, but his body seemed to fight you.

“It actually might,” Quinn replied, his eyes glancing around to see if people were watching.

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just follow my lead.”

Quinn took a deep breath and tried to relax. He honestly didn’t know how you were just naturally full of energy and positivity. However, your energy was infectious, and soon he found himself moving more naturally, though still far from graceful. You teased him about his lack of rhythm, but your laughter was warm and encouraging.

“Baby, you’re doing great!” you said, your smile radiant. “See, I knew you could dance.”

Quinn felt his hesitation fall away as you continued to dance, your movements becoming synchronized as you lost yourselves in the music. Your friends cheered from the sidelines, Maya giving Quinn a thumbs up when she caught his eye.

A couple of songs later, you and Quinn headed off the dancefloor. You made your way to the table your friends had commandeered, Quinn pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You were right,” he murmured into your ear. “That was fun.”

“Told you so,” you replied, grinning up at him, eyes sparkling with the same energy that had captivated Quinn from the beginning.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks

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itneverendshere · 3 days

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THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without.

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it.

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair.

“They chew up people like you.”

“I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty.

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning.

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel.

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time.

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra.

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you.

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck. “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go.

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand.

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives.

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you.

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully.

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you.

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?"

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh.

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you.

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it.

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears.

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe.

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating.

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.”

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security.

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making.

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin.

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right.

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of his own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him.

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth.

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

258 notes · View notes

animeshotsh · 3 days

Text

How they cheer you up 💞| HCS | Various! x Reader |

Summary: They notice you are not feeling well, so they decide to try and help you feel better.

Lucifer

Lucifer its the one who notices your mood change first, as well as your new routine of oversleeping as well as getting yourself with lots of work. He knows what is going on (he has faced it before) and knows he would have wanted help or someone by his side.

His way of helping you is soft and also calculated in order to not make you feel like you must tell him what is going on or to feel pressure from him. Will invite you to have tea with him, will ask you what you would like to do for the day and encourage. If you want to staty in bed then he asks you if you need anything. Is going to get your favorite food and ask for extra soft pillows and blankets. If he notices that you are staying inside too much he will ask you to help him do some errands in town. Will offer to fly with you in his arms and play the violin for you if you like it.

Charlie

Despite she being hyped all the time and with lots of work she notices your change. How you seem to be out of space a lot, or how you avoid the rest of them. Charlie will wait for a moment where you two can talk alone. She wont pressure you on telling her whats wrong, will tell you to take your time. Is going to be around you a lot, unless she sees that she is over passing. Will ask for your help with easy tasks and ask you to have lunch with her.

Alastor

He may be slow at first at seeing your mood change, till he notices how irritated you are getting or how you seem to stay in your room all day not coming out unless its for eat or do some work.

Alastor comes from a time where this type of things were not adressed, however he feels like he must offer you some help, even if he does not know what he is doing.

His approach may be a bit agressive at first, teleporting you outside the hotel and making you take some walks with him as he talks about different stuff.

He will invite you to have dinner with him, playing soft jazz and even reading with you. Will leave a shadow of his to follow you and order it to help you with whatever task you may need.

Husk

Husk has his own inner fights so he is also quick to cath up with yours. He is not that good at talking or with feelings but its an amazing listener and will tell you that you can share with him whatever fear or thing that is making you feel bad.

He may not know what to do if you cry but will give you an akward hug and even put his wings around you.

Vox

When he is alone he is less of as ass than when he is with the V's.

Vox will notice how you are not doing your work. like you used to do and will find it strange then he will give you more hours to rest and send the best food on your way. Is going to play your favorite shows 24/7 and anyone who does not like it can go and fuck themselfs.

If social media is making you feel bad then he will remove your social apps and say they are unavailable at the moment.

Vaggie

She will be the "together". Basically wont leave you alone unless you ask her to. She wants to support you and be with you if you need her to.

Stolas / Mentions of medication

As someone who has to live with it and has to take medication for it Stolas will notice. He will ask you whats wrong and to please share with him what is going on.

Will ask you if you want to visit a Doctor and offer all his mansion for you to stay in. Is going to make plans to help you pass the time and distract you. Do you want to see a sun born ? He is taking you there. Do you want to help him with his plants? Of course he will say yes!!

Do you want to cuddle and watch a movie with snacks? He is preparing the best nest ever.

Rosie

Best friend in all circles. May ask if someone hurt you or if you need something specific from her. Will get you the best food and clothes to try and cheer you up. Walks with her in cannibal town are a must as she tells you the last gossips that are going around. If you want to cuddle she will do it just for you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Other characters I think would be great supporters/help you.

Emily (she is an angel of course she will let whatver she is doing to try and make you feel better).

Moxie (he is gentle, is going to make you stay home and away from work. Gets protective of you and will not back off on telling Blitz to stop mocking you).

Angel Dust (may be tricky for him but will try his best. Knows everyone has problems and they are different. But having someone by your side its important. Will let you cuddle his pig pet).

Zestial (I think he is a softie with these who he likes. You are close to him, he notices how you are not being yourself. Will use his power and status to help you).

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #husk x reader #stolas x reader

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ilylovelyz · 2 days

Note

Please do literally anything with Kenma I’m obsessed with him rn

⍣ ೋ how they fell in love

˚ · . kenma kozume & oikawa torū

kenma kozume — because you made him an apple pie. it seems silly, yeah–but that's truly what made him began developing feelings with you. not because of the many hours you spent playing with him in silence, talking to basically yourself as he was too shy to respond to a female. not because you gave him your very detailed and simplfied notes you made specifically for him because you knew that he's be too tired out of his mind from the winning-streak he did last night to pay attention today. no, it was because you made him an apple pie, something he only mentioned once in passing.

"hey ken.." you cheekily say, a large grin written across your face. kenma looks up from his nitendo, eyes greeting you silently before they move back to his screen. "wow! such a greeting!" you tease, despite being ignored so blatantly, you couldn't help but giggle at his intense expression that he sports while playing.

you feign a sigh, your hand coming up to tap at his wrist, earning a surprised flinch from the blonde. his hand quickly pulls away, allowing you to take advantage of the opening he gave you and snatch his nitendo from his other hand. "y/l/n-san.. what are you doing..?" he groans out, his hands trying to reach over the desk to steal back his game.

to anyone else, it looks like he hates you. maybe he does–, but to you, that's just the way he speaks. "oh please, you can spare a minute or two." with that, you're smiling greatly at him and suddenly pulling out a black container, setting it on top of his desk. "ta da~!" you laugh, your hands laying on top of your knees anxiously.

his cat-like eyes glance up at your own, confused, he just sits there. you dart your eyes back up to him and to the container, hoping that he'll get the message to open it. it seems to work, "...you wan't me to open it?" you roll your eyes at his response, "noooo, it's just gonna stay on your desk for all eternity.. jeez—just open it already!" kenma jumps at your raised tone, rushing to open the container in hopes of settling you down.

he blinks down at the contents inside the container, his hands resting on the edges. "this is.. apple pie..? for me?" he asks, his tone more soft onces he realizes. "i made it, for you." you smile, urging him on to taste it. "here," you lift a the pink fork on the inside, slicing the apple pie and lifting it up, only stopping in front of kenma's mouth.

he glances up at you once more, his eyes training onto the piece of apple pie. it does look yummy... finally, he moves forward and takes the bite into his mouth, chewing it slowly to inspect it. you watch him closely, watching for any reactions.

with a swallow, he sits there, his eyes looking elsewhere. "it was good," he admits, earning a content laugh from you. before you could ask him anything else, you heard the call of your name. you follow the voice, seeing that it's your friend standing in the doorway. she calls for you, wanting you to come with her.

"enjoy it, kenma-chan," you say, giving him back his console and walking away. kenma stares at you blankly, still holding the fork in his hand as he watches you leave the classroom. his eyes glance back at the miniature apple pie, sighing softly. he digs his fork in for another piece. he's glad you left, that you didn't see him blush so much when he took the first bite of the best apple pie he's had in awhile.

oikawa torū — because you stood out from the others and stood your ground. despite the two of you not dating or talking, you were still running the "relationship". he thought because of his looks, you'd easily give in like the rest of them, fall to your knees and end up heartbroken when he'd leave. but no, you made him work for it–for you. hell, he couldn't even tell if you liked him back. he didn't even realize it, but he was chasing you around like some lovesick puppy, following your orders and looking up at you like you were some goddess. he finally realized it when you called him out for it, and even then, it made his heart pound in his chest for you.

oikawa watches with those pretty brown eyes of his, they reflect of his target, you. he chews on his pretty lips, ripping the skin of their delicate flesh. his features, oh his pretty features, once so relaxed and perfect, are now scrunched up into a face of worry and fear.

he watches you, his eyes occasionally darting to the random guy next to you whenever he talks to you once more. in this moment, oikawa wishes so bad he was in your proximity, he wants to hear what the stranger is saying to you. is he flirting with you? is he asking for your number? maybe he's a family member. no, wait, no family member would move close to you like that.. no, no family member would wrap their arm around your shoulder!?

oikawa leaves the court, running hurriedly to where you sit. he ignores that the game is about to start, and that he hasn't even stretched yet. he makes his way up the bleachers, hastely walking towards you. but it seems your attention isn't even on him, it's on the guy next to you instead. or is it? from what he sees, it is. but really, you're just letting the scene in front of you play, it's cute to see oikawa this way about you.

"y/n-chan." he says, trying to make his voice sound as stern as possible. you feign a giggle at the guy next to you, pretending to not hear oikawa to bait him even further. it works, as before you can react he's wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you up from your seat and down the bleachers, practically dragging you out of the gym.

you hold back a menacing laugh as oikawa pushes you against the wall of the gym, seeing the hurt and fear on his handsome face. "y/n-chan, who was that? why'd you ignore me?" he asks, his lips pulled downwards into a frown. he cups both of your hands into his own, holding them tightly. "huh? what are you talkin' about? i didn't even know you were there." you say, acting dumb about the whole situation.

"yes you–, y/n-chan who was that guy?!" he whines, desperate to know the answer. his whining is cut short when you snap back your hands from him, lightly pushing him away from you. "why do you care? we aren't even dating." your voice is feigned with annoyance, your arms crossed upon your chest.

his heart drops at the realization. right.. the two of you aren't even a thing. his eyebrows furrow at the thought, he thought, just like the rest, you'd be the one to ask him out, not the other way around. if the two of you aren't even a thing, then why does he care? much to his own expectations, he doesn't even know.

he sighs deeply in defeat, his hand subconsciously moving towards yours. his eyes are glued to the ground, lips stuck into a thin line. you try not to let it show, but it breaks through, your laugh just escapes through your throat, confusing the already upset oikawa. "what's so funny?" he asks, his eyes wide at your sudden outburst. "haha–it's–it's, really nothing, heh–, you're so cute, toru," you struggle to say, emphasizing the use of his first name, he's begged you to call him by his first name, but you've just never done that.

his heart fluters at the use of his name, blush coating his cheeks so nicely. cute? "oh.. oh, were you messing with me?" he asks timidly, his hand coming up to scratch at his nape. oikawa lightly scoffs when you nod, still laughing at your own cruel joke.

finally, with a last chuckle, you nod your head, smiling mischievously at him. "so then.. who was that guy?" he asks, feeling more confident within himself. you shrug your shoulders, "a friend i paid $5 to act like he was flirting with me."

oh. oikawa sheepishly backs away, his face painted a light color of pink. he feels his phone vibrate, probably a text from iwaizumi calling to see where he's at. just as he takes out his phone and is about to open it, you're pushing yourself forward, your hands planting themselves flat on his chest as you get onto your tippy toes to give a longing kiss onto the apples of his cheeks.

"good luck," you say cheekily, returning flat onto your feet and walking away from the dazed oikawa. he can only turn his head to watch as you walk back into the gym, his cheek tingling in the spot where you kissed him. god, you just have him wrapped around your finger.

please like and repost with tags

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #oikawa torū #haikyuu oikawa toru #oikawa smut #oikawa toru x reader #kenma fluff #haikyuu kenma #kenma x reader smut

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jinwoosungs · 21 hours

Text

{ 184 }

that green gentleman (things have changed).

single.parent!sung jinwoo x fem!daycare worker reader

{ things have changed for me, and that's okay | i feel the same, i’m on my way, and i say | things have changed for me, and that's okay }

you had simply been tidying up the area, placing all of the toys back in its respective boxes as each child went home with their parent for the evening when you heard your coworkers groaning and talking amongst themselves.

"it appears the father of that child is asking us to keep an eye out for suho, since he's working overtime yet again at the station."

"goodness, i would stay back, but my husband's waiting for me."

"same here, i haven't even picked up my groceries for dinner yet!"

you look back to see the cute, 4 year old boy named sung suho remaining quiet, spending his free time drawing as he surrounded himself with a plethora of crayons. being familiar with suho and his father, sung jinwoo, you knew how difficult and challenging it was for a parent to raise their child on their own.

"sorry ladies, but i couldn't help but hear that sung jinwoo may be late in picking up suho?"

your coworkers heave out yet another sigh. "indeed; honestly, i wish i could stay back, but i've got my own errands to fulfill before i come home and prepare dinner."

"and my own husband is waiting for me as well..."

"if that's the case, why don't i stay here with suho and close up the daycare?"

your coworkers' eyes go wide, with them stating your name in an incredulous, but grateful manner. "you'd do that for us?"

"of course! you ladies go on and head home. i'll keep suho company and wait for his father to arrive later tonight."

after receiving their gratitude at least a hundred times, you watch as your coworkers pack up and leave the daycare, leaving you alone with the tiny boy.

smoothing your apron, you come closer toward suho, seeing a new stack of drawings settled next to him. no one else knew this, but you developed quite a fondness for suho, often admiring his imagination and how colorful his drawings were.

"hey there, suho. your papa says that he'll pick you up later, so since it's just me and you, you don't mind spending some time playing with me, do you?"

suho vehemently shakes his head while flashing you a wide smile that had a few gaps between his front teeth. "hello miss, and i don' mind playing with you til daddy gets here!"

you giggle along with him and press a finger against your lips, playfully telling suho to remain quiet (as if you were keeping a well kept secret), "since it's just us, how about i get you some snacks? would you like some pudding and strawberry milk?"

suho's eyes go wide as he presses both hands against his mouth, not saying a word as he gave you a series of nods.

"okay, i'll be right back with those snacks."

you bask in suho's sweet giggles, going into the fridge to grab a cup of pudding with a carton of strawberry milk. returning to suho, you help him open his pudding and milk while giving him a plastic spoon. as the toddler enjoys his snacks, you trailed your eyes over to the stack of drawings.

"mind if i look and admire your drawings, suho?"

suho simply gives you a nod with a spoon in his mouth. you thank him and pick up the stack of pictures, tracing over each crayon mark. there were lots of purple and black shadows that surrounded figures that appeared to be suho with his father. despite how malevolent the shadows seemed, the painted smiles on each of the shadows' faces dissipated any amount of concern you held. if these were suho's imaginary friends, then it was clear that they made him happy (with his favorite one being in the shape of a giant ant.)

as you turn the page, you saw a drawing that broke your heart. in it, suho and his father were settled on the couch while watching the television with a frown on their faces. on the screen was what appeared to be a blonde woman smiling with a microphone in hand as she waved at the cameras.

"that's mama." suho says with a bit of a sad tone. you nod and place the drawing of his mother back on the table for suho to see. he was frowning, pushing aside his empty cup of pudding while pointing a finger at her. "papa says she left when i was two... i don't remember her, but papa says she's happy in the t.v., singing and taking pictures."

"i see. your mom is very pretty?"

suho gives you yet another nod. "yeah, papa says she was so pretty that she left us."

suddenly, tears fill his grey eyes when he turns his gaze to you, filled with a desperation as he shakily asked, "did mama leave because i wasn't a good boy?"

"oh no, honey. no no no, this has nothing to do with you." you automatically bring suho into your embrace, gently caressing at his hair as he cried against your apron. "sometimes, adults have dreams they wish to achieve, too, and such dreams make them blinded. i'm sure your mama still loves and thinks about you, she just wishes to make her dreams come true first and foremost."

suho continues to cry while in your arms, yet still, you remain by his side, comforting him. you trace random shapes against his back while humming a lullaby. soon enough, the tears slowly begin to cease as you heard the soft sounds of his breathing.

with a fondness in your gaze, you turn suho around so that you were cradling him in your arms, rocking him back and forth while placing a gentle kiss against his forehead...

"suho." a deep yet breathless voice was heard calling out to the little boy, and as you trailed your eyes forward, you were met with what appeared to be a much older version of suho himself-

you were met with jinwoo, his father.

{ ... }

jinwoo was cursing all the way toward the daycare, berating himself for being so caught up in yet another cold case. the time was nearing 10 in the evening, which was past suho's bedtime as he rushed toward the daycare.

admittedly, ever since cha hae-in's departure (leading to their inevitable divorce), it was difficult for jinwoo to care for his son. of course, he had his loyal shadow soldiers that protected and kept watch over him-

but what suho needed was that soft, maternal touch he was certain his son had been deprived from when hae-in left and gave him complete custody. in her own way, jinwoo knew that hae-in loved her son-

yet the promise of being more than a simple housewife was a calling that such a gorgeous woman like his ex-wife could not ignore. she had big dreams when she was younger, but was unable to reach them until recently. their child was barely 2 years old when an agent caught sight of her and made her an offer she could not refuse.

jinwoo spent months arguing back and forth with his wife, wondering why their son wasn't enough (why he wasn't enough) to make her stay-

but in the end, he ultimately relented and let her go.

after all, he loved her enough to let her go and help her pursue her dreams-

even if it didn't involve either him or suho.

the memory of it all was enough to make jinwoo's heart twist, his hands clutching at the steering wheel when he arrives at the daycare, parking haphazardly before tossing the door open. he runs a hand across his unruly locks of hair, entering the building while calling out his son's name.

"suho-"

he trails his gaze forward, only to feel his throat closing up in response at the sight before him.

jinwoo sees suho in the embrace of a kind young woman. she meets his gaze while placing a finger up against her lips, humming a lullaby as suho remained asleep in her arms. his heart was racing, practically melting at the sight of her. when she finishes her lullaby, she beckons jinwoo closer, allowing him to take suho within his embrace.

he lets out soft coos of his son's name, feeling him stir the tiniest bit before settling within his arms. he looks back at the woman and thanks her, seeing her name tag while referring to her by her first name, "thank you, for caring for my son. and ah... i apologize for arriving so late."

she merely giggles, waving off his concern while taking off her apron, hanging it somewhere before grabbing her bag. "don't worry about it, mr. sung. it's tough working as an investigator. i don't mind spending a few extra hours keeping watch over suho until you pick him up."

jinwoo thanks the woman once more, this time with his eyebrows furrowed in response. "say, it's getting pretty late. is your boyfriend or partner picking you up?"

he hears a choked laugh coming from the woman. "ah, no mr. sung. i'm afraid i'm single and must take the train back to my place."

"the trains stop running by midnight, ma'am. you'll never make it." jinwoo tells her with a whisper of urgency. "i'm sorry, this is all my fault. let me give you a ride back."

before she could even protest, jinwoo's voice takes on a more authoritative tone. "trust me on this; it's late at night and you're a young woman. do you know how much the rates of assaults have increased this past year? there are millions of depraved men still out there."

his words end up striking a nerve within her, and he watches as she purses her lips before nodding, "well, okay mr. sung. if it isn't too much trouble-"

"don't worry, it's no trouble at all. after all, it's my fault that you had to be here so late. and please, call me jinwoo."

while keeping his sleeping son within his embrace, he watches the kind daycare lady shut off all the lights before locking up the daycare, following him to his car. as he opens up the backseat, he had a hard time getting a good grip on suho in order to transfer him to his carseat. it was during this moment that jinwoo witnessed her unconditional kindness once more.

like it was second nature to her, jinwoo watches as the woman gently ease suho away from his embrace, angling her body so that she had better access to the carseat. with gentle movements, she places suho in his carseat while buckling his seatbelt. "i'll remain in the backseat with this little guy. i can tell you my address as well."

taken aback by her easygoing nature and genuine kindness, jinwoo could only manage a nod in response, watching as she sits next to suho's carseat while he settles in the driver's seat in a bit of a haze. turning on his phone, he types in the woman's address and begins to back out of the parking lot.

with each stop light, jinwoo couldn't help but sneak glances at the kind woman, seeing the way she kept a protective arm around suho's carseat while looking out the window. seeing how soft and nurturing she was makes jinwoo smile, filling his heart with a warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time.

after what seemed like mere seconds, jinwoo arrives at her apartment complex. he was filled with a reluctance to see her go, especially when she gives suho a gentle kiss against his hair. "night little guy, i'll see you tomorrow."

giving jinwoo one last thank you, she exits the car and makes her way toward her apartment building, with jinwoo remaining parked in the front, not moving until she was completely inside of the building.

"papa..." jinwoo's ears perk when he hears suho calling out to him.

"yeah suho?"

jinwoo tilts his head back to get a good look at suho, seeing him yawn before telling him, "i really like her."

he hums in agreement, "well, you've got good tastes, suho. i really like her, too."

suho lets out another yawn before falling back asleep, making jinwoo smile as he started the car once more, thinking about how the next time he went to pick up suho that he'd need to place a soldier within her shadow...

{ ... }

you had fallen into a bit of a routine with jinwoo for the months that followed.

more often than not, jinwoo would end up working overtime at the station while you would always offer to keep watch over suho. and during those late nights when jinwoo picks suho up, he would always take you home.

but lately, it seemed as though you were steadily doing more... intimate activities.

for example, during the weekends where jinwoo was able to take some time off, he would pick you up after your shift at the daycare center and invite you out to dinner with him and suho. whether it be to a nice restaurant, or to a comforting, home cooked meal made by jinwoo himself-

it truly was nothing short of bliss to you.

and it was during moments like these that you found yourself falling utterly and irrevocably in love with the man named sung jinwoo. everything about him was just so perfect to you, and you found yourself thinking on how crazy his ex-wife was for leaving such a perfect family behind-

but you digress, since you were certain that it was simply the jealousy getting to you.

it was your day off, and you were simply doing mundane chores when you heard a knock at your door. drying your hands against a towel, you answer the door, only to feel your eyes go wide when jinwoo was found in front of your apartment. he was dressed comfortably in a black turtleneck sweater with matching jeans and a pair of converses, holding in his hand a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"hey, do you mind spending the rest of your day with me?" he gives you a sheepish smile, placing the lovely bouquet within your hands. you felt flabbergasted, gaping a bit as you looked around for any signs of suho.

"suho's with my parents for the day, so it's just me and you." as if reading your mind, jinwoo reassures you, placing a hand within the pocket of his dark jeans.

"oh, well, yes! i don't mind spending my day off with you. hold on, i'll place these flowers within a vase, and i'll grab my bag, then we can go."

jinwoo chuckles while telling you to take your time, simply watching you while in your doorway as you fluttered around your living room. after filling a vase with some fresh water, you place the lovely bouquet inside and grab your purse from your room. you join jinwoo after locking your door, smiling up at him as he takes your hand in his.

feeling the heat against your cheeks, you remain silent, simply allowing jinwoo to interlock your fingertips together with his. "let's take a walk, there's something i'd like to talk to you about."

you nod, "okay, lead the way, jinwoo."

he tightens his hold on your hand, walking with you out of your apartment complex. remaining on the sidewalk, you walked for about 20 minutes before arriving at a nearby park. he keeps on walking deeper into the park, not stopping until arriving at a gorgeous garden filled with a rainbow color of blooms. spotting an empty bench in the midst of such a wonderful garden, jinwoo gestures at you to sit as he settles beside you.

you both remain quiet, simply admiring the scenery. you were in the midst of counting how many flowers there were in a single section when jinwoo calls out your name. you feel him taking a hold of your left hand and begin speaking.

"you have sparked a fire in me that i didn't think even existed anymore."

the way jinwoo's voice cracked made you look back at him, your eyes being filled with empathy. you felt him giving your hand a squeeze when he meets your gaze. "ever since my ex wife left me to pursue her dreams, i buried myself in my work to forget about the pain of her abandonment. i did my best to raise suho on my own because of how much i love him, but it hasn't been easy.

what suho needs is a nurturing touch of a mother. he needs a gentle and kind love, that unconditional type of love that his own biological mother was unable to give.

truly, i was at a loss; uncertain of what i could even do to help him fill that void. and when i felt as though i were close to giving up and losing it all, that's when you came into my life."

your breath hitches in response to his confession, feeling him reaching out to you with his free hand as he cupped at your face. "you were like the sole beacon of light my soul was searching for. when i saw you that night, cradling my son so gently within your embrace, i knew that my heart was yours."

jinwoo finally lets go of your hand, making you let out a gasp when you saw a beautiful diamond engagement ring settled against your left ring finger. "j-jinwoo-"

"i know, i know, you may find me to be a rash man, proposing to you so suddenly, but i obtained such a trait from my own father." jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle while pressing a kiss against your ring finger, "the sungs have always been men who knew what they wanted and would do anything to pursue it-

and the only thing i want is you..."

jinwoo's eyes begin to glow purple just then, and you felt him framing at your face as he presses kisses that were no heavier than dew against your parted lips, "so please, marry me. make me and suho the happiest boys in the world. suho needs you- i need you in order to feel whole again."

with tears streaming down your face, you lean forward to press your lips against jinwoo's in a searing kiss, knowing that you would simply be a fool to reject his proposal.

[ epilogue ]

suho was getting ready for his first day of school, face frowning into the mirror as he kept trying to adjust his bowtie-

yet still, it seemed like no matter what he did, it forever remained within its lopsided state. with a pout, he stomps his feet and marches his way over to you.

"mom! i can't get this!"

you giggle and put aside the book you were reading, resting a hand over your rounded belly as you beckoned your son closer to you, "come here, sweetheart, let mommy help."

suho hums, remaining still like a good boy as you fixed his bowtie, settling it perfectly in the middle of his shirt. he gives you a toothy grin and leans down to kiss your stomach. "mwah! is my baby sister ready to come out yet?"

"not quite yet, honey, but soon, just have patience, okay?"

suho gives you another pout, ready to say something else when jinwoo's whistle was heard echoing throughout the house, "come on, suho! it's time for school! give your mama and little sister one more kiss, and i'll take you!"

suho listens to jinwoo's words, giving your cheek and your rounded belly yet another kiss before skipping away from you and toward his father, "bye mama!"

jinwoo gazes down at his son with a fondness, catching your stare while giving you a wink before leaving the house. and as your husband and son departs, you were aware of the shadowy wisps that surround you, making you smile as you knew that you would forever be protected by the man who was the absolute love of your life.

a.n. - an early father's day gift for the daddiest of them all lmaooo i'm sorry i need to write something fluffy and sweet for my hubby due to the stress i'm feeling. currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader

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genderfluid-insomniac · 2 days

Note

IDEA!!

riddle, ace, and malleus (separately) x fem!reader (u can make it gn!reader if you’d prefer tho!) where the reader is about to leave twisted wonderland but she’s clearly hesitating and then the character asks why they don’t just go, and reader tells them through tears that she loves him, and asks if he feels the same n that if he does that will be the only reason she needs to stay. he does and she runs into his arms immediately. so a little bit of angst but ends with cute comfort. if this is unclear at all PLS LMK and i will clear it up!! brain is rotted atm bc i finished the worst essay of my life a little bit ago

Riddle, Ace, and Malleus (separately) x fem!reader who’s hesitant to go back home because of their crush

Riddle

You were looking at the mirror in front of you the hazy outline of the world you know and turning back to see Grim trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. He’d tried several times to stop you like rallying the ghosts in ramshackle to help him or using his fire magic in the least destructive way he could or moving all the furniture to block the door.

Ace and Deuce nor Epel, Jack, or Ortho didn’t want to force you to stay since you’d tried so hard to find a way to get home and now you had. It was right in front of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a step forward. Your heart refused to budge and rooted itself despite your mind's logical reasoning. It pushed the one reason you had been trying to ignore out to the front of your mind.

Tears brimmed your eyes and you did your best to blink them away to no avail, using your hands to wipe them and felt them fall down your cheeks. You sniffled at the thought of never getting to see your crush again. Someone who you’d loved with all your heart and who helped you through all the trials and terrors that you’d experienced since you arrived in Twisted Wonderland.

You held your bag by your side and stared at the silver shining mirror that glowed signaling that its destination was fixed to the location the user wanted. Your home or rather somewhere close to your home as Crowley couldn’t exactly get the mirror to transport you to your country and reluctantly let Ortho and Idia help so its arrival destination was a lot closer.

Behind you were your friends along with your crush the dorm leader of Heartslayble Riddle and they watched bittersweetly as you walked closer to the mirror. In front of you was the hazy view of a city near where you lived and you were supposed to feel ecstatic that you could finally go home, and see your parents, and your friends but you didn’t. Ever since you stepped foot in Twisted Wonderland you felt like an alien but over time it began to be your home and one person held your heart through all your time here.

You loved Riddle dearly and after his overblot, you were there for him much to his confusion since he was horrible to you and the others but you relented. Riddle has grown so much from his freshmen year and saw nearly every day now, walking between classes or hanging out in Heartslayble and helping him paint the roses red or tending to the hedgehogs. The way he talked to the hedgehogs or flamingos was adorable and it was always impressive when an Unbirthday party was being set up and he was in his formal uniform staff in hand ordering people where each dessert went. In your hand was a specially made strawberry tart for you with a queen of hearts card sticking out of it and a fondant miniature hedgehog in front.

When Riddle tutored you because you needed help with some of your classes you sometimes tried to make the sessions last as long as they could since Riddle had such a strict schedule you would practically have to schedule or make an appointment his free time. Riddle of course upheld the rules for everybody even including you but he would sometimes bend them because your pout was too cute or your smile was perfectly bright. You both loved each other so much without the other knowing and it appeared like it would stay that way since you were leaving for your real home.

Riddle noticed you hadn’t moved for the last couple of minutes and seemed to be in deep thought however you were shaking. “Are you alright or worried? You’re shaking. Is there something wrong?” he asked and buried the twinge of hope in him that thought your hesitation was because you weren’t going to go back. You felt the hot tears drip down your cheeks and sniffled, turning around so your friend and everyone saw you were holding back the wave of tears threatening to fall. “I don’t want to go back… I don’t want to go back because that means I won’t get to see my friends or you! I love you so much! I have since the first unbirthday party I ever attended and I don’t know if you love me back but I don’t want to leave!” you cried and opened your eyes to see Riddle crying silently, tears unknowingly escaping his eyes and face a blushy pink.

You both stared at one another in silence for a couple of moments before the dorm leader spoke and wiped his face noticing his tears. “I didn’t want you to go back but it’s not my choice and it would be wrong of me to cause conflicts in you. I love you and want you to stay here with me. I can’t promise everything will stay calm but I promise I’ll always be by your side.” he said and his eyes widened when he saw you drop your things, running over to him and tackling the poor short Riddle to the ground. You cupped his face and kissed him softly, his face blushing scarlet but intertwining your hands and cupping your face in turn. “How about we make a new tart in celebration or salvage the fallen one I made you, my rose?” he asked and eyed the dropped slightly damaged dessert in its frail simple packaging.

Ace

The charm of an ace card that your crush Ace had given you was dangling from your phone and a replica of his magic pen held tightly. You looked at your phone once more and saw the goofy picture of both of you running from Riddle with the tart in hand as your lock screen. Letting a couple of tears fall and bringing your phone to your chest, trying to come to terms with that you would have to deal with never seeing your best friend and crush ever in exchange for being on earth again.

Ace and your other friends behind you grew worried as they saw your shoulders shaking and hands clutching your stuff tighten. Why were you hesitating? He was devastated that he would never get to see you again, assuming that texting you in your world didn’t work, and putting on a mask of happiness for you. He never even got to tell you he loved you but he knew now wasn’t the time as it’d make you hesitate. To the others, it was crystal clear how hard this was for both of you.

He ordered his voice to be steady even though it came out shaky. “Why don’t you just go? This is what you have wanted since you got here right? We’ll all miss you so much and you know we support your decision right?” he asked and heard the others murmur similar statements or agreement. You let out a sob and turned around to the group, tears falling down your red cheeks and bordering on a breakdown. “I can’t go knowing that I’ll never see any of you ever again. That I’ll never see you again, Ace. You’ve been with me since I got here and always stuck by me. I can’t leave because I love you and I’d never know if you loved me back if I left now!” you cried and hiccuped, dropping your bag and wiping your wet cheeks with your sleeve.

That was the breaking point for Ace and he stopped pretending to be glad you were going home, knowing his crush someone he loved ever since he saw you come through that mirror and go through all the crazy hijinx of this school year loved him back. He sobbed and held his uniform sleeve over his eyes to hide the onslaught of tears pouring out of his eyes. “I never wanted you to leave not when you already became a girl I could depend on every day. It’s selfish but I didn’t care because I loved you too. So seeing you happy to leave… it broke me.” he said and let the sad emotions overcome him.

You smiled albeit a bit wobbly and dropped everything you were holding, running to Ace and tackling him in a hug. Both of you fell to the ground with you on top of him and he cupped your face, kissing you softly and wiping the tears falling with his thumb. You parted for air and rested your head on his chest as you caught your breath. “So would my hot girlfriend be up for snatching a couple of sweets from my dorm?” he asked cheekily.

Malleus

Malleus had specifically arrived at Ramshackle to go with you to the Hall of Mirrors to spend the most time he could with you and convinced Lilia to stop Sebek from going with him since he knew it meant so much to his draconian friend. He desperately didn’t want you to leave. Who would he spend his nightly walks with or have interesting conversations about gargoyles? But most importantly, how would he fill the hole in his heart if his favorite student he loved left?

You held your bag in one hand and in the other was a replica of Malleus’ magic pen along with a small orb with the illusion of Ramshackle dorm with its gargoyles and you, Grim, and him outside pointing to different parts of the worn down dorm building. Just looking at it brought tears to your eyes. It reminded you of what you were leaving and how you were leaving the one person you loved behind.

Malleus and your friends noticed your hesitation and looked at each other worried if you were okay, wondering if they should speak up or say something. He went to take a step forward but stopped and gripped the sleeve of his blazer, unable to form the words he wanted to say. You looked at the glowing mirror in front of you and saw the hazy reflection of a familiar landmark smiling a bittersweet smile. Letting the tears fall down your cheeks and sniffling.

Your mind waged war on both sides of your mind wanting to come out on top and win. You didn’t want to leave the person who you’d slowly grown to love and who piqued your curiosity the moment you saw him. You couldn’t. Your crush spoke up after what felt like an eternity. “Are you alright? This is what you want isn’t it?” he said with a hint of solemnness. Turning around and letting everyone see your teary sad sad face. “I can’t go because I love you and if I go I’ll never get to see you again. I don’t want that. I love it here and I love being here with you. I love you and I don’t want to leave even if it means you don’t love me back!” you said through tears.

He let a few tears fall down his cheeks and smiled warmly. “I was hoping you would say something like that. I love you too and want nothing more than for you to stay here with me. I’d miss our walks and nicknames. Everything about you has captured my heart.” he said and brushed budding tears with his thumb. You sobbed hearing his confession and dropped what you were holding, running into his arms and holding him tightly. Both of you held the other like they would disappear if they let go. You laughed and leaned into the hand cupping your face, kissing him sweetly, and resting your forehead against his. “Shall we get something to eat, my beloved?” he asked charmingly.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts

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sleepymoha · 21 hours

Text

Thinking about Chilchuck’s wife.

Thinking about her saying “good luck” on his first day as a dungeon diver, carving the memory of his rosy, freckles cheeks into her mind, along with the shape of his eyes sparkly from excitement and curiosity. Thinking about her staying back in their tiny house in need of renovation, with their three small daughters, thinking about her having to answer countless “where is daddy?” questions from three different directions, from small children who simply didn’t know any better.

Thinking about her greeting him after his first dungeon adventure, with her arms spread out for a hug she’s been waiting a week for, but the still fresh memory of rosy cheeks and sparky eyes are now replaced with the strange dullness she had only seen on people who had lost something awfully precious to them.

Thinking about how the rosy, freckled cheeks are but an old, faded memory now. Thinking about how soft fingers got replaced by callous and dirt under his nails, and the sparks in his eyes got pulled under heavy eye bags. Thinking about the freckles now hiding under his skin because he no longer bathes in the Sun like he used to, like they used to. Thinking about a once lively - poor, but lively - home becoming cold and quiet, despite finally having the money for the pricey renovations.

Thinking about him never coming home, of him rarely if ever sending letters, despite her writing a new one every other day.

Thinking about the day he got back, and only found a letter in a fully renovated house, and no family to greet him in the hallway.

Thinking about how he had never felt so poor in this life before, but all she felt was freedom.

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck’s wife #i might be going insane #I might also be writing this at 3am #i might delete this later

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ifancyharry · 2 days

Text

Close as strangers

Harry hurried down the hallway all the way to his room, sliding the key card against the key-reader, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his palms pressed against it.

He quickly removed his shoes, tossing them near the door, before plopping down on the hotel bed, his back against the headboard.

He fished out of his skinny jeans his phone, grimacing at the screen that read 3 missed calls from ‘Angel <3’.

He sighed as he unlocked it, typing hurriedly the number he knew by heart on the keyboard, and putting it on speaker, too tired to hold the phone to his shoulder for the call.

He waited for her to pick up as he listened to the incessant ringing of the line.

“Pick up, pick up” he whispered, biting at the skin of his thumb to suppress his sighs.

He knew he was late. And he felt like he could only imagine the disappointment YN felt when he didn’t answer her call.

He and YN had picked out a specific time throughout the day where the both of them had to be available. No matter what the other was doing, at 7 o’clock they had to answer the phone, which was a pretty understandable rule, and Harry had found it easy to comply to it at first, excusing himself to take a call or getting covered by his band mates if he couldn’t make up an excuse quickly enough. But with time, his schedule had gotten really busy.

And he sometimes missed her calls.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realized he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout in his face, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realization that maybe they weren’t good after all.

Hi lovelies!!! I was cleaning my drafts and I saw this thing I wrote ages ago, based on Close as strangers by 5sos. Lmk if it’s something you’d like to read and I will publish the whole thing!

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry concept #harry styles fic #harry styles tour #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles one direction #harrystyles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #close as strangers

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izelascendant · 23 hours

Text

Unsportsmanlike

Chapter 2 - Spring Blooms

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Rating | Mature Summary | What happens between the four after Tashi's injury. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Baggage, Smut, Exes, Unresolved Tension, Complicated Relationships Word Count | 2.4K Author's note | I can't live without a little bit of drama and complex relationships.

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Part 1 of this series - Sportsmanlike

Unsportsman like on AO3 | Chapter 1 - Atlanta, Chapter 2 - Spring Blooms, Chapter 3, ...

As much as Patrick would have loved to stay in her hotel room for a few more nights, he had to accept that she had her own, much busier, life to attend to.

The morning after felt a bit awkward, and she wasn't sure how to politely kick him out. Heading out to grab a coffee, she left him a note that read, "I have to check out at 3 p.m. and catch a flight," along with her phone number. A part of her feared she might find him still sleeping naked in the hotel room, but there was no sign of him or the note when she returned.

She felt a tinge of guilt for not exchanging proper goodbyes, especially since they hadn't really shared much conversation the night before—just engaged in a physical activity.

She hadn't had sex that good since—well—Art and Tashi. Though each had their own styles and paces, she had to admit she hadn't expected Patrick to be so caring. He was typically more forceful in his actions. Who knew he could be such a gentle lover?

She received a text message from him just before boarding the plane and saved his number—almost as if holding onto a glimmer of hope. Nostalgic by nature, she tended to cling onto things for as long as possible, and having Patrick's number saved in her phone offered a small comfort, making her feel a little less alone.

The first time she wrote a report about Art’s tennis career, back in 2011, she had only briefly exchanged words with him and Tashi. As she had told Patrick—it was cordial. They shook hands and exchanged uncomfortable glances when they bumped into each other at a press event. She could tell Tashi wanted to extend the conversation, but overwhelmed by the moment, she cut things short and left as soon as she could.

She regretted it. Not only that, but she missed Tashi, despite how bitterly things had ended between them, and found herself ruminating about her and Art from time to time. Surprisingly, she had received an invitation to their wedding—but couldn’t attend due to her sister falling ill. As Art and Tashi's lives seemed to flourish, hers felt like it was falling short of luck.

But the truth was that—even if her sister hadn’t been sick—attending their wedding would have been immensely awkward, particularly given that Patrick hadn't been invited. She could easily envision the guests inquiring about her connection to the bride and groom and being unable to explain their complicated past during their years at Stanford. After all, she had indeed slept with both the groom and the bride.

Spring 2013

Tashi

In the spring of 2013, an unexpected message arrived from Tashi Duncan, now Tashi Donaldson, on a seemingly ordinary afternoon.

Tashi’s agent had facilitated contact with the editor-in-chief at her firm, setting a formal tone. It became evident that this wasn't a matter concerning the press or any official documentation—rather, Tashi wanted to see her and talk to her personally.

After a prolonged period of avoiding Tashi's looming presence, she comes to the realization that she had afforded Patrick a chance two years prior. Consequently, she begins to question why she shouldn't extend a similar opportunity to Tashi.

The night before her scheduled coffee meeting with Tashi, sleep escapes her. Despite it being just a casual coffee encounter, the mere prospect of facing Tashi again is enough to induce serious nerves.

As she sees Tashi seated at one of the tables outside the café, looking as beautiful as ever, a flurry of emotions sweeps through her. She finds herself unable to tell whether she feels a tinge of jealousy towards her former flame or a lingering sense of attraction—or perhaps, a mix of both.

Tashi greets her with a bittersweet smile as she watches the redhead take a seat. “What made you change your mind? I feel like I’ve been chasing you to talk for years.”

"I'm a busy woman," she replies with a slightly forced sense of humor, leaning back in her chair, the weight of their shared history palpable in the air between them.

"So am I. There's a lot you missed out on." Tashi remarks, tilting her head slightly to the side, her tone tinged with a hint of longing.

"Sounds like it. So, what more could you want? What do you want from me ?" she responds, her tone laced with a hint of apprehension, wary of where the conversation might lead, given Tashi's known manipulative tendencies.

Tashi lowers her gaze, a vulnerable expression crossing her features. "I know I messed up," she admits, her tone more serious. "But you were an important person in my life. I don't want that to just go to waste."

She gazes at Tashi with a softened expression, uncertainty growing within her. Tashi takes her hands in hers, locking eyes with a gaze that nearly melts her. In that moment, she realizes that this is precisely why she had been avoiding Tashi—she hadn't wanted to confront these lingering feelings—and perhaps Patrick had been right all along about her infatuation with Tashi, even after all these years.

"C'mere," Tashi whispers, and they both rise from their seats. She pulls her into a hug, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

It feels as though she had been yearning for that embrace for years. Tashi holds her close, refusing to let her go. With a small sigh escaping into the crook of Tashi’s neck, she feels Tashi’s hand gently caress the back of her head, a gesture of reassurance.

"I'm so sorry, Tashi. I wish it could have been me who got injured, or at least be able to continue your dream for you." She whispers, her words heavy with regret and empathy.

Tashi pulls away, cupping her face gently, and presses a tender kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I took Art from you," she murmurs, her voice filled with sincerity and remorse.

She shakes her head firmly. "You and I both know the boys are secondary to this. This is between you and me ," she asserts, her tone resolute as she acknowledges the heart of the matter.

"The boys?" Tashi raises an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and amusement in her expression.

“Yes, Art and Patrick,” she confirms, sensing a shift in Tashi's demeanor at the mention of Patrick's name.

“You still talk to Patrick?” she asks, curiosity lacing her tone.

“I haven’t in a while, but we’re still in touch,” she admits. Then the question dawns on her. “Why didn’t you invite him to your wedding?”

“You know, I forgave him a long time ago. Art is the one who still has a grudge against him.” Tashi reveals, a note of contemplation in her voice.

Tashi’s words prompt a moment of reflection, causing her to wonder if there might be hidden emotions between the two men, similar to the complex feelings she harbors for Tashi.

“How is Art?” she asks out of politeness but also genuine curiosity. Memories of the party she attended with him back in Stanford flood her mind, along with the words she once spoke to him—that whoever was to marry him would be a lucky girl.

Now that lucky girl is standing in front of her.

“Good. I’ve been trying to get him back into playing since our little girl was born,” Tashi reveals with a gentle smile, indicating a shift in priorities with the arrival of their daughter.

Her eyes widen, a hint of emotion hitting her. “Oh my god,” she stumbles on her words slightly, “That’s amazing, Tashi, I—I’m so happy for you. How old is she?”

“She just turned three,” Tashi smiles warmly, her joy evident in her expression.

“What’s her name?” she asks, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she tries to imagine how beautiful their daughter must be.

“Lily.” Tashi reveals, speaking in a smooth voice.

She blinks, a momentary pause hanging in the air as she processes the information. Her mind races back to the night she spent with Tashi at Stanford, recalling the intimacy they shared, exploring each other's bare skin. She remembers the moment Tashi first noticed the tattoo below her hip— a lily. A flood of memories washes over her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“It’s what you’re thinking,” Tashi confirms, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of her mouth, acknowledging the connection between her daughter's name and the intimate moment they shared years ago.

A couple more coffee dates and meet-ups are planned between the two, and it feels incredibly refreshing to talk to Tashi without their discussions revolving solely around tennis. Despite this, she can tell that Tashi still craves the passion of playing, a lingering desire evident in her eyes.

She meets Lily, and consequently—Art. Encountering him again after such a long time feels surreal, but like Tashi, he has retained his charm and looks. The conversation with him doesn’t flow as effortlessly as it does with Tashi. There’s an undeniable tension between her and Art, an underlying friction that she can't quite pinpoint.

But it never really mattered much, as most encounters were just between her and Tashi

That is until one day, Tashi organizes for her to meet up with Art. She reckons out of all people—Tashi knows best just how close she and Art used to be when Tashi was dating Patrick—and that she wants to see two old friends rekindle their friendship.

That is, until one day, Tashi orchestrates a rendezvous for her with Art. She knows that, of all individuals, Tashi has the keenest insight into the depth of her past connection with Art, especially during the period of Tashi's relationship with Patrick. She reckons that Tashi may harbor a desire to witness the reunion of two old friends and a potential for rekindling their bond.

As unusual as the planned meeting appears, she accepts the invitation to dine alone with Art, keeping the notion in the back of her mind that there might be an ulterior motive behind this orchestrated meeting.

Art

"Does this happen often—your wife planning things for you?" she asks with a hint of playfulness, attempting to maintain a light-hearted tone in the conversation.

Art lets out a small chuckle. “She plans everything in my life,” he admits, though there's an undertone of something else beneath his statement, perhaps a hint of resignation.

She can't help but feel sympathy for him, wondering how he manages to endure Tashi's controlling nature. As she watches him bite down on his churro, a familiar mannerism from their days at Stanford, she realizes that some things never change.

“You’ve got sugar on the side of your face.” She smiles, a wave of nostalgia washing over her at the familiarity of the moment.

She recalls how they used to sneak away for churros together, indulging in a secret treat away from Tashi and her strict diet regimen. And now—seven years later—they find themselves doing the same, though they aren't exactly hiding from Tashi anymore.

"Shit," he mumbles, rubbing his hand across the side of his mouth to remove any lingering traces of sugar clinging to his skin.

She can't suppress her laughter as they stroll towards the parking lot. The dinner conversation proved to be less awkward than she had expected, and she realizes that despite the passage of time, she still shares a playful dynamic with Art.

He pauses to chuck his napkin into the trash before dusting off his hands. “Don’t tell Tashi about the churros. I’m not supposed to be eating this junk,” he confesses with a half-hearted chuckle.

She decides to maintain the playful tone of their exchange. “I can't make any promises,” she shrugs with a mischievous grin, enjoying the lighthearted banter between them.

He chuckles in return as they approach his Jeep, her car parked right beside his in the empty parking lot. Just as she reaches into her purse to grab her car keys, she notices his intense gaze fixed on her. She meets his eyes, observing as he studies her features with an intensity that sends a shiver down her spine.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says, a boyish smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

She swallows hard, feeling a familiar sensation wash over her, as if history were repeating itself all over again. “Don’t say that,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, feeling herself becoming flustered as she avoids maintaining prolonged eye contact with him.

“I have Tashi’s permission, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Art says, his confidence striking a chord that she isn’t used to hearing.

“What?” She says, looking up at him, her eyes widening slightly as she’s taken aback by his statement.

She feels her heartbeat quicken as he takes a step closer, his presence both solid and strangely attractive and intimidating at the same time. “Is it not obvious? Why do you think she set us up on this date?” His smirk widens a fraction. “We both want you.”

She finds herself paralyzed in shock, her mind racing as she struggles to formulate a response. Her mouth falls open, yet no words emerge. Art, sensing her hesitation—takes the liberty of closing the space between them—pressing a gentle and tentative kiss to her lips.

She pulls back, exhaling audibly, her gaze lingering on his for a fleeting moment before she scrambles back to retrieve her keys from her handbag. “I, uh—I’ll see you around,” she stumbles on her words slightly as she gets into her car, eager to depart, leaving the weight of their encounter lingering in the air.

She needs to be alone to process what has just happened.

“I hope Art didn’t scare you. Maybe I should’ve been the one to tell you.” Tashi’s voice comes through smoothly and calmly over the phone the day after her encounter with Art.

“Maybe,” she replies with a touch of exaggeration, her tone slightly mocking. “I wasn’t exactly expecting your husband to kiss me.” She lets out a small huff.

Tashi's voice breaks the charged silence, laced with a playful hint of teasing. "Did you enjoy it?" she asks, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

The shift in her tone is immediate, and with a weary sigh, she expresses her frustration. "Tashi," she begins, her voice filled with genuine confusion. "What kind of twisted joke is this? It's not funny."

"Baby, we weren't trying to scare you, I promise." Tashi's softer tone and use of the affectionate name stirs something within her. At that moment, she can sense that Tashi's intentions are sincere, and her words carry a hint of reassurance. "He meant what he said. About us."

The phone pressed against her ear, she paces back and forth, her mind spinning with thought. "So what exactly are you asking of me?" Each word carries a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity as she tries to make sense of the situation.

"Just come over to our hotel." Tashi says, "You choose which night, and we'll talk ." There is no room for negotiation or misinterpretation in her words.

It's obvious to her that Tashi's idea of "talk" carries a deeper meaning. She understands the exact implication behind the word and the hidden agenda that lies beneath the seemingly innocent request.

She finally decides to speak up. “I’m free tomorrow night.”

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casually-eat-my-soul · 3 days

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I am completely normal about the hale family.

I’m totally not obsessing over any of the characters

Like Laura hale who haunts the narrative. Hell she’s was the creation of the narrative, her death is the reason that Scott and stiles were in the woods that night. She was a means to an end. She was an older sister. The girl who stays with her brother even after her death. We know nothing about her, and everything we do know is forever tainted by the biases of the characters that remained. The Aphla Heir, the first victim of the show. A body in the woods, a girl in a grave

Or Peter hale, who is a walking contradiction and Manipulator. He cares for his family but he sacrificed Laura and Derek (Paige) for power. He kills his niece, then later on he wants to save her (Cora). Peter who died in the house fire, all Derek was doing was putting down a corpse. Peter who died engulfed in flames in the house haunted by death and fire. Peter who knew how to bring himself back, who knew about necromancy and banshees. How young was he when he created a plan to bring himself back to life?

How about Cora?? A girl who lived in the shadow of her families death for years. Believing that she was the only one who lived. A girl who only knows how to run, who keeps her bags packed always ready to leave. It’s how she grew up. Cora who returned to her burnt out shell of a home at the mere mention of a hale alpha. Who leaves beacon hills once again but this time with her brother at her back. (Laura and Derek leaving after the fire parallel)

And last but not least, Derek fucking Hale. The man who blamed himself for the death of his entire family. Who lost everything, and despite that, got up every single day. Who never got to bury his family members, but never wanted to bury Laura. Who killed his uncle and buried him in the grave of their house, so he could rest among the rest of forgotten Hales. What’s one more grave to dig, One more family member to bury. Who helped people even when they didn’t want him to. Derek who was used and abused over and over again. Who was nothing more than a body. Someone with one foot in the grave and one on a train. He just wanted a pack again and had that taken from him as well. He leaves beacon hills, and comes back to once again help those in need. Who dies and comes back. Who drags himself with bloody fingers to a happy ending, with a son. Who takes care of a car for fifteen years as an act of repentance and love. And who still dies in a fire like the Hales that came before him.

What about Eli, whose legacy is pain, fire and death.

The hales who are tied so fucking tightly to beacon hills and to each other. They can never leave this place but they can’t stay. Nothing will ever be the same again. The fire is gone but the wood is still charred. There’s still an open grave

#sterek #derek hale #peter hale #laura hale #cora hale #teen wolf #hale family #the hale pack #let derek hale be happy #the horrifying ordeal of being known #character analysis #Hale family feels #the haunted house of the Hales

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tomsparkyr · 1 day

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑

summary: y/n still plays for chelsea, mason has moved onto man united. with old history bubbling on the pitch causes for tension and upset, told through twitter. (there will be a part 2!)

mason mount x fem!reader

mason mount x footballer!reader

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yourusername just posted!

liked by colepalmer10, axel_disasi and 1,379,329 others

yourusername CHELSEA !!! best club in the world, best fans in the world … endless love for this club💙 Cole, tell me … “what’s the score?”🫡🫡

tagged: colepalmer10

view all comments?

user Y/N UR MESSY FOR THAT CAPTION

user mason humbled

user rip y/nmason ship ig😦

colepalmer10 4-3😂😂

nonzinooo LONDON IS BLUE

reece 😌

user NAH THE LAST PIC.☝️

axel_disasi someone in the last pic got a hattrick😇😇 @colepalmer10

⤿ colepalmer10 🫣🫣

chelseanews just posted!

liked by user34, user11 and 240,279 others

chelseanews Y/N and Mason Mount spotted after the Chelsea vs Man United game today. Mason is seen to have stayed behind in London while the rest of the United team returned to Manchester.

Those near said to have heard the argument spiral from Y/N bringing up Mason’s departure from Chelsea, some said she began crying because ‘she did not find out Mason was leaving Chelsea until he was gone’.

It looks as if Mason did not let his so-called ‘best friend’ know he was leaving Chelsea.

view all comments?

user there’s no way …

user MASON.

user y/n omg i feel so bad😟

user FUCK OFF

user am i the only one who thinks mason mount is leaving united after the season

⤿ user that would be kinda crazy tho bc he JUST joined them this season

⤿ user ig but he didn’t join the bus back and stayed for y/n in chelsea?

⤿ user but they ended on such bad terms i dont think he would come back, and her career at chelsea could be in trouble then bc she CLEARLY doesn’t trust mason

fabrizioromano just posted!

liked by marcusrashford, yourusername and 2,379,223 others

fabrizioromano 🚨 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 🚨 Mason Mount’s career at Manchester United is OVER!

After not returning to Manchester after their away game against Chelsea, Ten Hag has confirmed that at the end of the season, Mason Mount will no longer be a Manchester United player.

At the end of the season offers of up to €30M will be linked to other clubs. The biggest rumour being his return to Stamford Bridge, despite his feud with striker Y/N Y/L/N.

A club statement will be released within the next few hours, we imagine we have seen Mount play his last game in a United jersey.

view all comments?

user WHAT.

user this is so poetic, mason leaving chelsea and him playing his game for united AT chelsea … it would kinda make sense if he came back

user MASON COME BACK

user this can’t be real …

marcusrashord 😔

⤿ user IT’S REAL

user good get him out

user y/n and mason will never be the same thoooo☝️

reece 🤔

⤿ user HOLY IS HE COMING BACK TO CHELSEA ??????

part 2 soon (!!!)

#mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount masterlist #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount x footballer!reader #mason mount x you #chelsea fc #man united

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oristian · 3 days

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“ELRIEL IS A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE.”

I see this argument used so frequently, but it is an argument that holds no water and is easily debunked by canon itself. For those who may not be aware of where this argument stemmed from, the whole basis was created from a conversation between Rhysand and Azriel in the bonus chapter from ACOSF. Funnily enough, the bonus chapter is used to “support” the forbidden love trope between Elriel, but in the same breath is said that “no one reads the bonus chapters,” and, “you cannot use a bonus chapter as a way to infer endgame.”

RHYSAND AND AZRIEL, ACOSF BONUS CHAPTER

Taken at face value, having Rhysand say, “You are to stay away from her,” would indicate some semblance of a forbidden romance. Adding on context, all of that semblance goes away. The scene reads as Rhysand is disappointed in Azriel for pursuing Elain despite the bond between she and Lucien not having been rejected yet. Rhysand surmises that Lucien could evoke the Blood Duel between the two if he were to find out and that would ruin any alliances that the Night Court has with different courts and the mortal lands. However, using context and background information, the reader is able to differentiate between fact and hypothesis.

Using context and retrospect from ACOWAR, the reader knows that the extent of the “forbidden love” between Elriel rests solely in Elain’s hands. All she has to do is reject the bond and remain within the Night Court, and she and Azriel are free to be together. Rhysand would support any choice that she makes.

ACOWAR CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR, page 259

Now that is established, let us speak about what a forbidden romance trope actually is.

A forbidden romance trope exists between two characters who are already in love and have something established between them, or exist in a society already plagued by the turmoil that would be heightened by their coupling. This could negatively affect politics, societal normalcy, family and friends, et cetera. Elain and Azriel do not exist on opposite sides of a war, nor do they have ties politically that their relationship would affect. Them getting together before the bond is rejected is just tacky and would only serve to disappoint those around them. Once again, all Elain has to do is reject the bond and she and Azriel are free to be together.

Elain and Azriel are not “in love” with one another, nor has that been made a canonical aspect of their relationship. The only canon that we have that eludes to a romantic undertone is the bonus chapter. Azriel and Elain almost share a kiss, though after Azriel spends the beginning of the chapter explaining how he has only thought of her in a sexual fantasy.

I have always found this wording interesting. “This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it,” followed by, “[…] like she read the decision.” That has always been blatantly obviously written to elude to the both of them wanting a one-night stand and that would be the extent of their relationship. Juxtapose that with Azriel speaking to Rhysand, having no plans with Elain outside of “the fantasies he pleasured himself to,” him calling her “the third,” and months passing between that night and the end of HOFAS and not a single indication that either of them are fighting, or wanting to fight, for their relationship.

Elain and Azriel are a buffer relationship between the endgame couples. No one is denying that they had a couple of scenes between them, but that is not out of the realm of how SJM writes. Nearly every single endgame couple that she has written has had a partner, or two, before their endgame. Had Elain not been mated to Lucien, then Elriel may have had a chance to become endgame.

Calling Elriel a forbidden love has never made sense and that trope has no ties to the overarching plots left within the spin-off series. If Elain and Azriel were meant to be endgame and serve within the same plot arc, SJM would have written Azriel to have gone and found Vassa and Papa Archeron in ACOWAR and she would not have written Gwyn within the ACOSF bonus chapter.

That is common sense, I fear.

#sjm is a gwynriel and elucien shipper #elucien endgame #elucien supremacy #pro elucien #elucien #gwynriel endgame #pro gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel #lol anti e/riel #anti ewriel #anti e/riel #acotar #sjm

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papaya-twinks · 7 hours

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Kikaaaa im really in love with your writing 😭✊🏻

Could I please ask for a Lando short fic?

I was thinking about something in the scenario where the reader is a currently Redbull driver, but has known and been an opponent of Lando since the karting days. Despite them being rivals, they don't hate each other and are always making jokes with each other, about something that went wrong in the race or about the strategies the team made for them etc.

On this specific day the reader was a little more upset with her result in the race and when Lando comes to make a joke about it she gets really angry and Lando doesn't understand. The discussion ends up turning into provocations about the reader's sex life and they end up in bed, to relieve the sexual tension they built up during the day.

I would be forever grateful if you wrote something about this 🫶🏻✨

Warnings: Angst, smut, 18+, sexual tension, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - chat this request just jumped the queue of my other 12 because oh my word, I’ve never read a request that makes me feel so good. LIKE CHAT??? First and last lines had me in love <3 it’s not short coz I can’t make it short with all the detail

“That’s P2, well done Y/N,” your engineer said on the radio as you smiled. “Who’s third?” you were already aware your team mate, Max, would be first. “Norris in third,”. Your smile grew even more - though you’d been competing against Lando from a very young age, but the bond between the two of you was unbreakable. Not as in friends, you were friends, but not close.

You drove into the pits, thanking the team as usual as you drove into your second place spot, seeing the orange car on the other side of the Max’s. “Nice job, Y/N,” Max shook your hand as you stepped out the car. “Cheers,”. You were distracted by the voice of Lando, waving to you from where his team were standing. “Nice one Y/L/N,” he said, lock-in your sides as you avoided his finger.

“Thanks, Norris,” you said, emphasising his surname, as he sighed, “another result ahead of me,” he sighed dramatically. “Can’t help I’m just better,” you shrugged as Lando rolled his eyes, watching you take the microphone for the interview, poking your tongue out at him. That’s how your friendship worked - constant teasing between each other.

“For fucks’ sake,” you groaned, watching as the cars raced past you, the smoke fogging from your engine. You’d been so close to winning the Grand Prix and there it went, an engine failure, wow. “Y/N, retire the car, please,” your engineer said. “Fuck!” you groaned, pulling into the pit lane, driving into the garage. You’d been on a streak of getting podiums since the start of the season, and now, there it went, your win and your podium.

You stayed in the garage to watch the race, Max in first, followed by Lando, then Oscar. “C’mon,” one of the engineers tugged your arm to stand under the podium and watch the celebrations. “Bad luck, Y/N, sorry,” Max said, shaking your hand as you nodded. And then, Lando came. “Aww, someone crashed?” he raised an eyebrow. Usually, you’d be okay with it, but being so close to a race win?

It hurt. “Well fuck you,” you put on a sarcastic smile, ignoring the hand he’d put out to shake. “Alright then,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “someone’s in a mood,”. You rolled your eyes at his words, turning, ignoring him pointedly, and watching the podium. As you walked back of the garage, to mull over your result and what you did wrong (even though you did nothing), you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N,” a voice said, stern and cold, from behind you. You turned around, raising an eyebrow to Lando. He was covered in champagne, his eyes half narrowed. “I thought I said fuck off,” you said, without really thinking about it, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? Well I don’t wanna,” Lando said, making you stop where you were walking.

“What do you want, Lando?” you paused. “To know why you’re having a goddamn tantrum over one DNF?”. That made you scoff, he clearly didn’t understand how you felt. “Lando, I was so close to a win, and it wasn’t even my fault!” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Guess you and your engine have something in common, you both blow up at random fucking points!” his tone was harsh and disgusted.

“Cheers, Lando,” you scoffed, turning away. “Why did you have to yell at me? We make jokes like that every time. You did last time, too!” he snapped, his price way too high than to just accept it. You said nothing, watching his outburst. “Oh yeah, sorry I interrupted your little eye fucking session with Max,” Lando spoke sarcastically, making your ears perk up.

“Excuse me?” you snapped, hands on your hips. “Oh, so you reply when Max is involved? Yeah, Y/N, all you two do is eye fuck in the cool-down room, I hate being there with you lot,” he said, venom in his voice as you paused. “Seriously, Lando? You sound desperate,” you laughed sarcastically. “Desperate? Really?” he snorted, “You’re out here looking like the desperate slut with those ridiculous little puppy eyes you pull on him,”.

You’d never heard anything to stupid, but your attention focused on one word. “A slut? Really?” you scoffed, “You go round fucking whatever girl looks remotely pretty, every single decently attractive girl will end up in your bed for one night, then they’ll be out,” you spat. “You’re such a prude, god, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes, “and ‘every’ attractive girl?” he laughed at your words, the disgust poorly concealed.

“Good job, your ears word,” you jeered, flicking your hair back over his shoulder. “You know that’s not true, Y/N,” he raised his eyebrow. His tone changed momentarily, but it went back to normal. “What?” you asked, bemused at his words. “Haven’t seen you in there, so it’s not every attractive girl, is it?” Lando’s words were quiet, but carried a certain level of power.

You brushed off his comment, not wanting to give it anymore attention than it deserved. “Your point?” you asked, eyebrow raised at his words. “My point is that I’m not the whore, you are,”. Shaking your head, you turned back away from him, walking towards your motor home. “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk off?” he scoffed, following you into the room.

Lando had never been in my room, before, we didn’t maintain that kind of friendship. It was a surprise to me as well as Jim, but I said nothing. “You’re not getting me in your bed, Norris,” you shrugged, taking your Red Bull hat off, along with your coat. “You’re the one undressing,” Lando commented under his breath. “I’m hot,” you said, like it was obvious, which it was, the heat of Spain hitting hard.

“I know you’re hot,” he said, eyebrow raised as his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on your chest. His comments were getting really flirtatious now. “What are you trying to do?” you turned to him, a suspicious look on your face. You watched as he stood a step forwards, a few inches away from you. “Nothing,” Lando took another step forwards, your body pressing against the door.

“Did you know,” he said, eyes dropping momentarily to your chest, “sex is good for stress?”. You did know that, obviously. “You look stressed,” he pointed out, making you pause. “D’you want me to get Max?” he cooed innocently. “Wow, Norris, I don’t know if you’re just stupid, but you’re not Max,” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t want Max,”.

“Right, so what driver then?’ Lando scoffed, his face centimetres from yours. “Oh, I dunno,” you said sarcastically, maybe you?”. The way he froze made a smirk flicker onto your face before it fell as he leaned forwards. “You want me?” he asked slowly, blinking at you, his eyes wide. “I believe I just said that,” you shrugged, eyes rolling.

Lando’s lip curled at your eye roll, his face leaning closer to yours. “Better behave or I’m gonna make them roll for another reason,”. Your cheeks flushed at his words, your eyes wide as his lips bit down on the skin of your neck, your eyes wide. “Lando,” you gasped, his hands tugging at your shirt, breaking off of you to take it off.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” he ran his lips over your jaw as he pulled your baggy trousers down. “Oh fuck,” you moaned as he pushed your knees apart, your legs over his shoulders as he held you against the wall, his tongue against your clothed clit. “Lando,” you mewled, eyes wide as he flicked his tongue, your hand tugging at his curls.

Lando had been picturing this for so long, his head buried between your legs, licking at your sweet goodness, your hands tugging at his hair. Fuck, if he could see this from third person, he’d cum just like that. You rolled your hips softly against his mouth, his tongue pushed your drenched panties to the side. “Someone desperate?” he pulled back, a whine leaving your lips.

“Lando,” you tugged at his curls as he looked at you, standing up fully, his body the same height as you, due to how he was carrying you. “You’re gonna be patient for me,” he said, hand running through your hair, “and you’re gonna be good,”. You nodded, eyes wide as he lifted you onto your bed, your legs slung over his shoulders still.

As he moved you, his finger slid against your wet folds, his thumb toying at your clit, as he pulled inside of you. “Lando, fuck!” you moaned, eyes wide before squeezing shut, your hand instinctively tugging at the waist band of his joggers. “Someone’s needy,” he commented, letting you take his joggers down, his cock springing against his abdomen.

His other hand wrapped around yours, pumping your hand up and down him as he groaned, your body squirming from his fingers. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lando smirked, your back arching for a second as you wriggled, his fingers pumping in and out, fully. “Open,” he said, his large hand on the back of your head, your lips parting a bit. “Really, Y/N?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“You know won’t fit,” he commented, hand pumping his own cock as you complied, opening further. Instantly, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat, before he fully pulled out, letting you dictate how far in he went. Your hand pumped the parts of his length that you couldn’t reach, his throbbing head hitting the back of your throat as you gagged, Lando’s other hand with his fingers still deep in you.

“Fuck,” he pulled you off, he would cum merely at seeing your pretty little mouth struggling with his length. He lifted you onto his lap, lifting your thighs up, so he could align his throbbing dick with your folds. You whispered as he ran his dick through your folds a few times, before pushing into you slowly, your muscles tensing.

“That’s it,” Lando cooed, one hand holding you up as he sank you down, the other cupping your cheek. “Open,” he said, your mouth falling open instantly. You flinched as he spat into your mouth, pressing his thumb to your tongue as you gagged slightly, resting your body weight on him. Lando turned you over, your body against his, legs round his hips as he slowly pushed into you, and then out again, before he quickened his pace.

Your mouth fell open at his ever quickening speed, his hips slamming into you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other cupping your breasts as you tightened your arm round his neck, your head on his shoulder. “Lando, fuck feels s’good,” you moaned, body rocking quickly at his rough movements.

“Been wanting to fuck you for ages,” he groaned, feeling your nails sink into his backs, clawing desperately, as if scratching would give you your orgasm, “look so pretty taking my cock baby,”. You loved the way he spoke, his words dirty, but his tone soft, so opposing to his rough slams. You felt the knot in your stomach building up at his words, your eyes rolling softly. “Told you I’d make them roll,” he smirked, grinning at you, “look pretty like that,”

The knot in your stomach came undone as you sank your nails into his bare back, his chain dangling on your lips as his hips stuttered, his cheeks flushed red. “Gonna cum in you,” he said gruffly, hips jittering as his slams became messier and messier. “God, fuck,” he groaned, his cum pooling in you, the thick toped ropes hitting your insides as you moaned. “Mmm, fuck me, Lando,” the words came out, not even paying attention to what you were saying.

“Just did,” he said, sitting up, your body slumped on his. “So fucking tight,” he groaned, holding your body as he pulled out, your pussy clenching round him as he did so. “Fuck, baby, you gotta let me go,” Lando chuckled, pulling you off of him fully. “That’s what you get for a DNF,” he snorted as you watched him, panting from your recent orgasm, “let’s see what happens when you win, love,”.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #f1 #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando norris x reader

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