zhongli and flins.... the type of men who would have absolutely no issues going down on his knees before asking if you'll allow them to help you into your shoes prior to going out. they make it a habit to do so, actually. tapping the shoe upside-down first to remove any debris, slipping your feet ever so gently into the footwear, lacing up and/or tightening any straps that needs to be fastened... and the last touch, of course, is the soft kiss on your knee followed by a gentle (and proud) âall done, dearest.â đŁ˛
You, a poor jewellery maker from Ba Sing Seâs Lower Ring, sneak into a royal ball for inspiration, only to captivate Firelord Zuko with a single dance before fleeing into the night.
Armed only with a memory of a lotus hairpin and a forgotten sketchbook, Zuko becomes determined to uncover your identity...
৥content৥
kinda cinderella au but different, yearning!zuko, kinda stalkerish behaviour from zuko, no use of y/n, fluff, kissing, angst if you squint, slight suggestive themes, non-bender!reader
w.c: 9.5k
The music was beautiful, but loud. It made it hard to concentrate on what you had come here to do.
Another ball held within the Royal Palace, which were becoming more common with each year that had passed since the Avatar had ended the hundred-year war. It was a sign of good fortune for the city, particularly the elite of the Middle and Upper Rings. Even your home in the Lower Ring had seen some prosperity in the last few years. Food was more plentiful, people seemed happier, and even the crime rates had dropped. Things had been looking up.
Fashion trends changed quickly, and one had to adapt to what the high-society folks deemed cool.
Your familyâs jewellery business had once been famous. So famous that theyâd had a shop in the Upper Ring, where all the rich residents would go to buy their jewellery for gatherings just like this. Whether it was wedding rings for their brides, pearls for their mistresses, or even the Earth Kingâs ceremonial mianguan, they had been revered as the best jewellers in the Earth Kingdom.
Verdant Jewels.
Forgotten, of course. Like many businesses during the Hundred-Year War, with the Fire Nation cutting off supply lines and destroying over half of the mining villages across the land.
You had never seen any of of your family's old prosperity, and it may as well not even have existed. But the skills passed down through your family, finally landing in your hands had not wavered, unlike the money. You had once seen it as pointless. Starving, unable to fight back without the gifts of bending... you could have laughed in the faces of your ancestors.
But discovering that skill to fire metal, twisting and tinkering with even the smallest scraps and slivers borrowed from the blacksmith, had proven to be your saving grace. It was what stood between you and quietly fading away in some alley of the Lower Ring, with an empty stomach and no one to remember you.
It started as simple chain bracelets, which at first you'd give away for free to the little girls of the neighbourhood. Then their mothers caught wind, and by that stage you'd grown just proficient enough to set small, pretty stones inside tiny prongs of metal at the cusp of bracelets, necklaces, and even rings. They were uneven, with rough edges and symmetry far from balanced. One day, you were told they had charm. It had been enough to fill you with confidence to keep going. The mothers had demanded you begin charging for them, and from then, you had been able to set up a humble stand on market square and sell them for a copper piece each. It was enough.
Your parents had always talked about the incredible designs created by Verdant Jewels. Sharp, gem-encrusted hairpins shaped like the delicate neck beak of a swan, engraved bangles of the purest jadeite, heavy golden necklaces dripping with every jewel imaginable littered their stories, and even they had never laid eyes on them. Scattered across the Upper Ring, deemed out of fashion and forgotten about in their chests and drawers. All that remained were stories, of a legacy you were struggling to reclaim.
It was important to remain aware of changing style among the upper class, as it influenced the money-spending of the Lower Ring. And it hadn't been easy gaining an invite to the Upper Ring- you owed it all to a Earth Kingdom commander on patrol, who had spotted a set of glass droplet earrings hanging on your market stall and thought they would be perfect for his wife. She had clearly been impressed, and invited you to advertise your wares to her in her personal home. The house itself had been intimidating, never mind the task of stealing an invite to the Earth King's ball, thrown in honour of some special guest, after you had spotted it sitting on the lady's desk.
It was a miracle they hadn't come after you, or that the soldiers at the palace doors had not checked to ensure you actually were Mrs Lin. They had accepted the invitation without protest, and in a matter of moments you entered the dazzling ballroom.
The wide hall stretched out, its golden ceiling supported by carved pillars of warm stone carved with winding patterns of mountains, vines, and flowers, looking as though they had been rooted there, rather than built.
At first, the floor looked like a glimmering lake, but the moment you stepped on its smooth solidness, you realised it was actually jade. Laid in sweeping circular patterns which echoed the city walls, and illuminated by the light of the golden lanterns, all hung at various heights, it glowed.
Like sunlight through a leaf, you pondered. Perhaps a necklace of silver leaves, each one unique, all linked together with a flower at its cusp...
Your eyes fell onto the raised dais at the north of the hall, where the seat of the Earth King rested. It made an impressive picture, with the backdrop of perfectly painted mountains and various animals- platypus bears, turtle ducks and badgermoles made it all the more realistic and reminiscent of everything the Earth Kingdom stands for. The clouds of the painting swirled around its mountains, cresting over the dais, where two men stood.
Both were instantly recognisable, despite the fact you'd never seen them in your life.
The Earth King wore robes of muted green and cream, a beautiful string of jade around his neck and gilded glasses perched at his nose. He smiled down at his people, who were mingling in various spots across the jade flooring and enjoying the endless spread of delicacies you wanted to bundle up and hand out to the people of the Lower Ring.
Your eyes didn't linger on the Earth King. It was incredibly easy to forget he was even there, when compared to the Fire Lord who stood at his side.
He was as impressive as the stories, the ones that had made it through the Ba Sing Se walls.
Once a banished prince, he had well and truly reclaimed his honour. He shone with it, from the ruby red of his robes to the gleaming golden headpiece adorning his hair, which was the most impressive shape of rising flames. You couldn't even begin to imagine how old it was, how much skill it would take to fire gold into that blazing shape. Not even the scar over his left eye and upper cheek marred his glow.
A line of people queued to speak to him. You doubted you would ever be able to get close enough to Fire Lord Zuko to get a proper look at the crown of the Fire Nation, so you settled on weaving through the throng of attendees, catching glimpses of their hairpins, necklaces and earrings and recording each one in your mind. Inspiration was the food of artists, and tonight, inspiration would put food on your table.
You shoved as many jiaozi in your face as possible and continued to work, subtly sketching away in a scrap of parchment all the designs that came to mind. At one point, you had even found yourself tracing the engravings of the pillars, the vine patterns too beautiful to ignore. The edges of the room are easy to cling to, and offer opportunities not only to observe jewellery trends, but how the other half truly live.
"Excuse me."
Your eyes darted up at the voice. You hadn't even noticed the people around you went quiet. It was obvious why, when Fire Lord Zuko stood before them.
Your stared at him, the parchment and charcoal long hidden up your sleeve. You became eerily aware of every sensation- the shift of your stolen clothes against you, the tightness of the shoes, and the gentle caress of the dangling glass droplets of your hairpin against your nape.
"Dance with me."
For a moment, you wanted to glance behind you and look for the person he was talking to. Because surely, he was just looking straight through you. Surely, the Lord of the Fire Nation had not looked at you. had not spoken to you. And he'd spoken in a way you'd never assumed a noble would.
But his eyes were definitely on you. And he was waiting.
Panic flared underneath every inch of your skin, as your mouth moved without a single sound coming out. And the worst thing? He waited.
Eventually, you remembered that you have in fact spoken before (many times, in fact), and should be speaking right now.
"I- uh, I don't... why?"
There was the tiniest hint of a smile that pulled at his lips. "I think you're the only person in this room who hasn't come to talk to me."
Had he been watching you? You glanced around at the crowd, who were still dancing and eating and enjoying the rich atmosphere, but still casted sidelong, observant glances towards the Fire Lord. It was then you noticed the sheer amount of young women at the ball.
With the sketchbook a feeling like a stone weight in your sleeve, and knowing deep down you should just refuse and run... you nodded. He was the Fire Lord, and you had to blend in. Rejecting the Fire Lord would be sure to raise eyebrows and stir suspicion.
Zuko's arm was warm, solid, underneath his robes. It brought you a sense of comfort over the pounding dread in your heart, which only amplified as he led you to the centre of the ballroom. You looked up at him in panic.
"I don't know how to dance," You say dumbly, cursing yourself for getting caught up in the lie. It had been far too easy to. Backtracking, you pretend to actually listen to the dramatic change music over the roaring in your eardrums. "Well, not this one. Ba Sing Se has many... variations of dance."
Zuko's lips twitched up again. It distracted you from the way the dissonant conversations quieten, and the way he placed his hand tentatively on your waist.
His head lowered slightly towards you. "I asked them to play this one. It's from my home. I'll show you how."
The energy of the music the musicians now played grew like a steady heartbeat, opposing your own. The strings of the pipa felt as though they were snapping into place, fast and powerful.
Once the sharp flutes began, Zuko started to lead.
Your steps faltered immediately- a mere fraction of a second, but it feels like enough.
His hand tightened at your waist, the other coming to gently grasp your hand, and a collective gasp and mutter runs through the onlookers. By some miracle, he'd made it look as though he had pulled you into him, instead of letting them notice your fault.
âThis isnâtââ you start, then stop yourself. Not this style, you almost said. Another half-truth, not quite a complete lie.
The music swelled, the drums settling into a steady, unyielding cadence. Around you, the other dancers seemed to adjust seamlessly into sharper turns, exact steps. Men and women who had grown up in halls like these, living with the luxury of learning to dance rather than to simply survive.
âI know,â he said quietly, carefully yet confidently leading you into a sharp turn which had you clutching at his hand. They remained clasped together, both yours and his elbows bent, as though raising your joint fists in prayer. If the stories were true, he was an incredible fire bender. The best, perhaps. You imagined columns of flame billowing out from his palm, and your own grew sweaty.
You blinked, looking away from your feet for the longest stretch of time since the dance had began.
There was no judgment in his expression. No embarrassment, no irritation. Just that same searching look, which made you feel incredibly see-through. He was royalty, and could probably tell a peasant from a mile away. Still, he didn't say anything.
Your next step came too late, your turn slightly off-rhythm. Heated embarrassment crawls up your neck. You shouldnât have agreed to this, you knew you shouldnât have. You wondered if there was still time to slip out. Perhaps no one had gotten a proper look at your face except for him, and it wasn't like he'd chase after you.
âI can stop,â you muttered under your breath, pulling back and attempting to dissuade him from holding on. âYou shouldn't have asked me to dance, there are plenty of others-"
His grip shifted on both your waist and hand, strong enough to keep you exactly where you are.
âNo.â His word was quiet, but firm.
You couldn't even still your body to calm your mind, caught between the urge to flee and the fact that you were in the centre of the Earth King's ballroom with the Fire Lordâs hands on you.
The drums pressed on, steady and unforgiving to your predicament. You actually felt sick. It was getting too complicated. You were just meant to slip in, take a few sketches, then leave.
He shook his head softly, guiding you into a complicated stepping spin. When you stumbled, he was quick to cast the bottom half of his robes out to distract any onlookers from noticing it.
âYou to don't need to follow the music, you know,â he told you. âJust follow me.â
You started to protest. âIâm notââ you started, then stop.
You weren't even a dancer. Not a noble. You're not supposed to be here.
âJust follow me."
It was like looking into his eyes, two golden gems of amber, placing you under some kind of spell. It was too late to back out now, and perhaps it was easier just to follow along with the lie. So you stepped with him, mirroring his movements as best you could.
At first, it felt slightly off, as though you were pushing against a current rather than flowing along with it. The rhythm was incessant, pressed against the edge of your awareness. But you began to step where he guided you, rather than following the demanding music.
The air between you grew charged with something, as the world seemed to narrow to the sliver of space between your bodies. When your next turn landed much cleaner than the last few, you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.
You find yourself looking up at him. A risky move.
"There," he said, quietly. It had been a mistake to look at him, because that's when you noticed the tension in his shoulders, and the way his focus never once drifted, not to the crowd or any watching eyes, but fixed on you.
You never stumbled the rest of the dance.
The final note strikes, and the world rushes back in. Applause, polite for the most part, but then it grew louder for him. The Fire Lord.
That was when you realised his hand was still clasping yours. If he looked any closer, he was sure to notice the scars that dotted it- various burns and cuts from hot, sharp metal, forged in the corner of a dirty blacksmith's shop. Certainly not the hand of noble Lady Lin.
âFirelord Zukoââ
âA remarkable displayââ
âYour partnerâwho is she?â
You hand went rigid in his, feeling its fiery warmth one last time before you pulled it from his grasp. The look of concern he had towards you was a grateful gesture, but you thought nothing of it. You couldn't, not really.
"What is it? A re you alright?"
You shook your head, taking a step back. Panic bit through your words as you look nervously at the approaching noble men and women, who hoped to praise Fire Lord Zuko and his mysterious dance partner.
"I can't," you started, taking another step back. Then another. You clutched your hand to your chest, as though you could still feel his palm pressing against it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
You quickly realised there was no possible way to explain. No way that wouldn't get you arrested and sentenced for impersonation and mingling with nobility under false pretences. The Dai Li could be cruel. Inhumane with their punishments.
So you turned, and ran. Quick enough that all you hear is a "Wait!", before you were swallowed by the crowd. Shifting bodies created gaps just big enough for you to slip through, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out the Fire Nation melody now being played by the musicians. You kept your head down, determined to get out before they stop you, before he caught up.
Your breathing finally began to to calm after you'd scaled the wall, back into the Lower Ring. Back to where you belonged.
The next morning, at the first light of dawn, you stepped into the blacksmith shop, ready to take your place at the smaller forge in the corner. You had barely slept last night, tossing and turning on your bedroll, haunted by amber eyes and a warm, gentle hand.
It was only after you had heated the forge and gathered the metal scraps, that you realised what had gone missing.
Your sketchbook.
Zuko stared at where you had disappeared from his sight, his jaw set.
People crowded him, and for once he wished he could go back to his defiant, rude childhood self and tell them all to fuck off and leave him alone. But it wouldn't bode well for the ongoing talks for the construction of the future Republic City- something he desperately needed the Earth King's approval on.
He was stuck trying to make sense of it, they way you had changed your mind, the way your voice had become so panicked, eyes wide with terror. But something shifted near his feet, and he tears his eyes away from where he's last seen your disappearing form.
He picked up the small, worn sketchbook, turning it over in his hands. Just by first glance, it certainly did not belong to any of these people. His thumb brushed over the faint indentations in the leather, where fingertips had spent a long time holding. His scar tingled.
Curiosity had always gotten the better of him.
Placing the sketchbook in the sleeves of his robes, he quickly dismissed himself for the evening, bidding goodnight to Earth King Kuei and his many guests and a promise to meet in the morning for more construction talks.
He carefully slipped into a dark, empty hallway, with his back pressed against the cool stone of a hidden alcove, he opened the sketchbook. A flame ignited in his palm, held not too close to the sketchbook for fear of setting it alight.
Page after page was filled with drawings of various jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, arm cuffs, rings, hairpins... some sketches were more detailed than others, but each was borne from a careful hand, which captured all angles of each piece. Some had been crossed out, with scribbled notes beside them- metal too expensive, stone slips and needs better setting, too thin, bends under pressure.
Another note beside a familiar-looking hairpin caught his eye.
The hairpin had a design of twisting vines, with a lotus flower in bloom cresting at the top. Beads, labelled as being glass, dangled from the flower, looking like dripping dew drops.
Beside the hairpin, a charcoal scrawl read, imperfection makes it more alive. Final version- keep this one.
He continued to pore over the little sketchbook, searching with keen eyes for the slightest mark that could be a signature, an address of a home or shop, but to no avail.
He sat in the bed of the grand guest room within the Earth Palace, silk blankets pooling around his waist, firelight highlighting the yellowish pages and shining a slight glow over his skin. He imagined that hand he held, the hand of his mystery woman, the way it clutched and held on to him. She did not behave the way woman at the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation behaved. She had been nervous, flighty. He had seen the way she'd weaved through the crowd, and had only looked at him once. Why had she hidden herself away?
It had been wrong of him to pull her into the centre of that jade floor, and subject her to the stares and whispers of nobles and officials. Even King Kuhei had asked him, when the night was over, who that delightful young woman he'd danced with was. It had annoyed him.
Zuko threw his head back onto the pillows, throwing an arm over his face and letting out a heavy sigh.
Who were you?
Where were you?
A lot of things in his life had left him. Some things had stayed away, for the best. And some things had come back to him.
He decided that the mystery jewellery maker would be one of the latter.
The guards standing at his bedroom doors practically jumped out of their skin when he threw the doors open, fixing them with a hard stare. He'd always been very good at giving orders.
"Take this and make copies of every page. If a civilian recognises these pieces, you will inform me immediately."
By the next day, over one hundred civilians had come forward after seeing the copies of the sketchbook pages, claiming to recognise the jewellery in their own collections. But with every house he visited, his hopes of finding you dwindled. Ba Singe Se was the largest city in the world, and clearly filled with people who just wanted to waste his time.
This had been the twenty-third house today, and once again, the noble lady and her husband had laid out the entirety of their jewellery boxes. Gems, gold, and jade shone, and each piece was elaborate and beautifully designed. All flawless, technically perfect. Expensive. But they all felt... empty. Crafted to impress, but not to mean anything.
Not likeâ His jaw tightened. Not like yours.
Zuko stood, the others in the living room standing with him, with a heavy sigh. He tucked the sketchbook back into his sleeve, before offering a polite smile to the lady and her husband.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I do not think these pieces match the ones I am looking for. Farewell."
Two more days passed in the same way.
House after house, each one boasting an impressive collection of jewels, but less impressive results. Zuko grew more frustrated, spending his nights getting it out of his system by firebending in his private courtyard within the Earth Palace. After accidentally setting several peonies alight, he'd sulked back to his room, turning the sketchbook over in his hands.
It was on the fourth day that something finally turned up.
Once again, he'd been visiting houses to try to match the sketches with the ones owned by the rich families of Ba Sing Se. The routine had gotten thin, as well as his patience. His chances of finding you were growing slimmer.
Mrs Chen, the lady of the house, had fussed over him like a grandmother, wailing in protest when he'd poured his own tea. Her jewellery laid our between them, but he didn't need to compare them against the sketches- they'd been burned into his mind, after several sleepless nights.
Mrs Chen's jewellery collection was much smaller than the other sixty-three families he had visited. She'd carried the wooden box in herself, and with a smug smile she'd begun to tell him the story why.
"I only collect rare items, as you can see," she waved a wrinkled hand over the necklaces, rings and hairpins. "I only keep what is worth keeping."
For a moment, Zuko's disappoint reached a chasm. It was the same as all the others.
But then his breath hitched.
It wasn't the most elaborate piece in the collection, not did it boast the most gems. It was lotus flower hairpin, and he'd seen it before. It had sat in your hair, holding it up away from your neck, and the beads cascading from it had swayed against your nape as you danced.
The only differences, he noticed when he'd carefully picked it up, was that the metal seemed of higher quality. A pink gemstone was nestled in the bud of the lotus, and each of the beads were diamond rather than glass.
Zuko turned it over, once, twice, three times before he asked, "This one. Where did you get it?"
Mrs Chen rubbed her chin. "That's an old piece, one of the first in my collection. It had belonged to my mother, you see. She'd purchased it from a shop that no longer exists."
Zuko's attention, which had gone slightly fuzzy the longer he'd looked at the hairpin, suddenly snapped into place. Mrs Chen looked startled for a moment- fire burned behind his eyes.
"Which shop?"
"It was called Verdant Jewels," she told him. "They were family owned- It closed its doors during the war- too many of the family's mines had been shut down."
Guilt and shame gnawed at him. The Fire Nation had destroyed everything in its path, and he had been a destroyer once. There was a time in his life that Zuko would have actually been pleased to hear that the Earth Kingdom had suffered, and wouldn't have batted an eye at the news of a village being razed do the ground. Or even doing the razing himself.
Suddenly, it clicked.
He pulled out the sketchbook, flicking to the twelfth page where he'd remembered one of your notes beside a delicate bend engraved with flecked markings. It had clearly not turned out the way you had expected it to, so you'd written a reminder to redo it.
Try again with better materials.
Need more brass- save.
What he had stupidly interpreted as you simply saving metal to use for future adornments, was actually a reminder to save money. He pictured that night again, your discomfort in the ballroom, your lack of dancing skills which every other person in the room possessed, and how you had disappeared from his sight within the crowd.
The hairpin burned in his hand, forged by a forgotten jewellers a hundred years ago, and the one you had been wearing were not very different after all. You clearly worked with the same skill these jewellers had all those years ago, who had developed the finest, mot unique adornments for the people of the Upper Ring. You did not possess grand materials; things that were once crafted from gold and jade were now made of smoothed glass, polished stones and brass. But you worked with what you had...
He knew where to find you.
"Mrs Chen," Zuko staggers to his feet, still clutching the bejewelled hairpin. "May I take this? I have gold- lots of it. Name your price."
What he had not fully expected, was the look of outrage on the old lady's face. "I'm sorry, Fire Lord Zuko, but that is a family heirloom, I cannot part with it."
But Zuko still left Mrs Chen's home a few moments later, the hairpin tucked into his sleeve along with your sketchbook and his head feeling a little lighter. He commanded his guards to lead him to the Upper Ring monorail station, and to inform him immediately of the next train departing for the Lower Ring.
Meanwhile, back in her home, Mrs Chen sat wide-eyed, at the Fire Nation crown in her hands.
The market was always busy at this time of day, the sun inching across a cloudless sky to the tune of a hundred footsteps.
You had already made eight sales today, and the copper coins jingled in your pocket to the tune of good meals this week. You could get a couple more rings or necklaces sold, then head back to the blacksmiths and finish up on the brass ring you'd been dying to finish. You'd finally saved up for some extra brass, and could probably have enough left over to make a few more. You were glad you'd memorised the designs, but it would have been better to actually have your sketchbook in hand, so that you could draw out a few more ideas for engravings.
You had also managed to remember some of the deigns you'd seen that night on your... outing to the Upper Ring. Right now, it felt like you had lost more than you gained, with losing the sketchbook, and getting caught up in a fantasy world that involved developing a crush on Fire Lord Zuko. You tried telling yourself it was just the cacophony of emotions that night making you think of him every waking moment.
You had to forget about him. It was nothing more than a silly fantasy that you couldn't afford to get caught up in. Literally. He occupied your thoughts the most during your work at your small table and forge at the blacksmith's. The heat reminded you of him, his hands. The glowing embers became his eyes.
You even caught yourself one afternoon humming the Fire Nation music, before dropping your head into your sooty hands and telling yourself to get a grip. He was nice to dream about, but that was all he was.
"Thank you!" you bid farewell to a gaggle of little girls who slipped bangles onto their wrists with each other's help. You smiled softly as they skip back to their mothers, with a lonely pang in your chest.
You'd brought some polished, coloured glass and wire, hoping to replicate a design you'd spotted on the bony wrist of a Upper Ring noble from the ball during short lulls between customers. You reached for your tools, ready to twist another section of wire into place to securely hold the glass in place, when something in the market's atmosphere shifted. Conversations seemed to fall and spike at something in the near distance.
A man hurried past your stall, eyes fixed ahead as he urged people to the side.
âMoveâmoveâheâs coming throughââ
You frowned slightly.
âWho?â somebody called from the stall opposite yours.
The answer didn't come from the man who had rushed past. Instead, it got carried by the crowd like a spark catching on a dry field.
âThe Fire Lord!â
A glass bead dropped from your fingers, clacking onto the wood of the stall and matching the rhythm of your heart.
âThe Fire Lord is here!"
âNo, I heard heâs inspecting-â
âMake way!â
The words blurred together, but the meaning landed on your shoulders all the same.
Firelord.
Zuko.
Your stomach dropped. He couldn't be here. He shouldn't. Why would he-?
Perhaps he was coming with guards. He'd found out you had lied to get inside the King's personal residence, had tricked the officials into thinking you were some commander's wife. You had tricked him, and he had taken it as a slight. he would hand you over to the Dai Li for deserved punishment.
Your pulse kicked hard, sudden and sharp. Then your hands finally caught up to your thoughts, racing to gather your things before it was too late. The tray of finished pieces, your tools, the cloth beneath them, all gathered into your arms. You'd be damned if you left them behind like your sketchbook.
But your movements fumbled in the midst of your panic- the wire you had been working with tangled on a ragged nail poking out from your old wooden stall.
You swear, fingers clumsily trying to free it.
"Make way for Fire Lord Zuko!"
You lowered your head, hoping, praying that he wouldn't notice you. You were just another vendor, another face. But then you made the mistake of taking a chance, and you looked up.
Zuko walked through the space that parted for him, the people of the Lower Ring waving and calling out his name in the hopes he'd notice. He was scanning the throes, not offering anyone a second glance.
Before you fully realised, you were looking into those amber eyes again.
Your eyes dropped immediately, at last freeing the wire and turning away from the market, head down. Walk. Just walk.
"Wait!"
His voice cut through you, and for a foolish moment, you wanted to wait. You selfishly hoped he had come here for you on purpose, and that he had felt the same way you had when you danced together. But it was too much of a risk.
You darted into an alleyway, weaving past people rushing our of their homes to catch a glimpse of the Fire Lord. You quickly turned down a narrower path between homes and stalls, hoping that you're moving fast enough to disappear.
Your shoulder clipped a hanging cloth, sending it swaying, but you didn't dare stop to fix it.
"Stop!"
His voice again, sounding more urgent. You risked a glance back, so see him knocking the same cloth you had out of his way to keep up his chase. People watched with wide eyes, pointing at the Fire Lord and calling out his name. But he just kept going.
You could lose him. You knew these streets well, you just needed to-
An uneven stone catches your foot, sending you stumbling forward and knocking the balance out from right underneath you.
A hand closed around your wrist, catching you before you fell. You remembered that warmth. He had you, and there was no chance he'd let you go.
So, you turned.
It was painful to look at him, knowing that in another life, you perhaps could have had him. Your family would still be prospering in the Upper Ring, every noble wearing an item from Verdant Jewels. You would have been trained in the art of dancing, and it would have been easy to impress the visiting Fire Lord with your grace and skill. But the time for pretending had come to an end.
His gaze searched your face, quick and certain. "You-" he started, before swallowing. "You left."
Your brows furrowed, before realisation dawned. He was talking about the dance.
"I had to," you managed to find your voice, although it was unsteady. His grip on your wrist loosed, but not entirely, not enough to let you run again.
Barely a moment passed before he responded with a, "Why?"
You shook your head, trying to pull your wrist back but he was unrelenting. "I had to. I didn't belong there, it... it was a mistake to go." You waved your other hand, gesturing to yourself. You didn't belong there, not for one moment. It was just pretend.
He stared at you for a moment, his dark eyebrow furrowing. "No, it wasn't."
You stopped trying to pull away from him, now looking at him in utter confusion. You want to help him understand, you truly did. But all it would do is pull you deeper in. In to him. People had already seen you together, watching you run. It wouldn't be difficult for them to assume the worst. And if somehow, incredibly, you made it off without being handed over to the authorities, you wouldn't be able to sell as much as a ring. You would be ostracised, avoided.
As though sensing your worry, he lets go of your wrist to reach into his sleeve, pulling out a familiar item.
Worn edges, soot-smudged edges and that corner you bent and never fixed.
"You left this." Zuko stated simply, eyes darting between it and you. "I've been using it."
Your eyes broke away from one of your only material possessions, and land on his. "What?"
"To find you," Again, he talked like it was obvious. But somehow, you knew he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was that look in his eyes- wide, clearly wanting to understand. "I just... had to know why you left. Why you were even there in the first place."
There was no chance he would leave you now that he'd found you, you realised. This man who had danced with you at the ball, who had kindly covered for your dancing skills (or lack thereof) and had taken care of your sketchbook. You had ran away from him, after all. You owed him an answer.
If you couldn't find the words, then you would have to show him.
"Not here," you told him, as he pressed the sketchbook into your palm with such gentleness it made your lip wobble. "If you want answers... come with me."
You decided, wisely, to avoid the main paths.
One of Zuko's personal soldiers caught up at one point, which he had commanded to retreat- peruse the market.
You never once had to look back. You didn't need to, when you could feel the heat searing from him.
You pushed the door of the small forge the moment you arrived, shutting out the light and any prying eyes. You took a moment to breath, forehead pressed against the door, before you turned to him.
It was funny, how out of place he looked. In his impressive Fire Lord robes, although he'd clearly forgone the crown this time, he looked like the handsome protagonist of one of those street plays.
He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the small forge where you bend metal without any special powers, the tiny rack of tools and the dusty floor. You cringed the longer he looked, and desperate to fill the silence, you spoke.
"This is it. Impressive, right?"
"Yes, I think so."
You stared at him, almost wanting to laugh. His voice was incredibly earnest; did they not teach sarcasm in the Fire Nation?
Shaking your head, you set your bag down in the corner, your gaze passing slightly bitterly over the place you called your life.
After a few moment's silence, you decided to tell him. What more could you lose? Your dignity, perhaps. "This is just what's left of my family's legacy," you said, picking up a half-finished ring and rubbing it with your thumb. "They were jewellers, in the Upper-"
"The Upper Ring," he interjected suddenly. Intensely. "Verdant Jewels. I know."
The ring slipped from your hand, abruptly clattering to the floor. "H-how did you know that?"
The blush that spread across his high cheekbones was a sight you wanted to never stop seeing. Dusty pink just visible in the low light of the blacksmith's, you saw the Prince shining through. He was not a Fire Lord, simply Zuko.
He coughed awkwardly, eyes latching onto yours. "I've been... looking for you. Ever since you left. I was told that Verdant Jewels made the most beautiful and rare things."
His heavy stare made you shift your feet, but you shrugged it off. "They don't exist anymore. It's just me. They at least had the decency to leave me with some of their skills."
Zuko's gaze shifted sideways, barely a fraction, as though searching for something at the back of your head. "You made the hairpin. The one you wore that night- it's in your sketchbook. You've made everything in that book."
You nodded. "Yeah. Some are still a work in progress, though."
"Show me."
You blinked. "What?"
"I want to see you..." he started, lingering on the words for a moment too long. It's a moment that had your heart leaping in your chest. "I want to see you make them."
You didn't quite know what to do. No one had ever asked you, for anything like this. He was the Fire Lord, a man who ruled an entire nation and was one of the most powerful benders in the world. At the least, you appreciated his supposed interest. Could you really deny him?
"You don't have to-"
"I do," he said with finality. That strange feeling tightened your chest up, dangerously.
"... Alright," you replied, maybe a little too quickly. Your eyes dropped to the forge, only a few glowing embers alight from your day's work here yesterday.
You reached for the bag of coal, ready to hoist it up- when a sudden heat torched behind you. You spun around in shock, to see a blazing fire filling the forge. Its flames twisted and curled around each other, and you couldn't look away. But when you did, you saw Zuko's outstretched palm return to his side, a satisfied look on his face.
You raised an eyebrow at him, a smile threatening your lips. "Seriously? Where have you been all this time? I'd have saved a fortune on coal these last couple of years."
You don't catch his small smile when you turn around and busy yourself with gathering what you need- strips of brass, a small glass bead, and your trust, worn tools. The fire he lit in the forge burned a lot hotter than the ones you usually lit, thanks to his clear, natural talent for fire bending. You imagined having that same ability, and huffed at how easy it would be to melt metal with fire beneath your fingertips, or even bend it with the new metal bending fad going around. Had your family, the past owners of Verdant Jewels, possess those talents?
You didn't have to turn around to know he was watching.
Watching as you focus despite the heat brushing incessantly at your skin as you heat the metal in the fire with old prongs, before bringing it back to the small anvil with extreme care. You'd endured enough burns on your skin to last the Avatar's lifetime.
But what you didn't expect was for him to come closer. He doesn't crowd, nor is it intrusive. He was just... near. You'd been closer than this before, dancing to the music from his nation. Your hand had been clasped in his, and his other had been on your hip. You wondered what it would feel like for him to reach forward and put his hand back in that same spot.
You tried to focus harder.
Your fingers twisted with the tools, carefully bending, shaping, then back into the flames. Repeat. Repeat.
You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth. "This part is the most important. If the base is wrong, everything else just... oh."
Zuko's hand enclosed around yours, with the lightest touch.
"Keep going," he murmured, and you feel his chest press against your back, just as gently as his hand was to yours. "I want to see."
Your breath stuttered out of you, to the relentless fever pitch of your pounding heart.
His hand followed yours, every time you twisted the metal or the tools, and even followed as you fired it in the flames. Flames, which you swore burned brighter than before.
"This- this isn't how it's supposed to be done," you breathed.
His mouth, brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver despite the sweat beading at your neck, simply murmured the words, "I didn't think it would be," His fingers curled around yours, his touch heavier yet flawless in their movements with yours. "You do not possess earth bending... and yet you control this metal like it's a part of you. You- it's incredible,"
The world outside felt very far away, as the crackle of the flames and the shift of fabric filled your senses. His chest was solid against your back, but despite the heat it brought, and as much as you wanted to just turn around and meet the amber eyes that you felt flickering between your joined, working hands and the side of your face, you kept your back to him. It was easier that way.
When he spoke next, his tone was more serious. "Do you regret it?"
You pressed your lips together, focusing creating a small lip in the metal for the ring's setting. "Regret what?"
He was silent for a few moments, as though thinking carefully over what he was going to say next. "Going to the Earth King's ball."
You didn't even risk a look towards him, knowing that if you had, you would do something stupid. But would you even regret that?
"No," you replied, attempting to keep your voice level despite the nerves that threaten it. "I don't."
You had relived that night over and over again in your mind, dreaming of the Fire Lord who had captivated your every thought since. Now he was here, his hands once again touching yours, and you couldn't even get yourself to turn around.
You swore for a moment his hands shifted- just a fraction.
"But you ran away. Twice."
A wry smile tugged at your lips. For being a ruler of a nation, he sure was a little slow to catch on sometimes. "You said to me that I was the only person who hadn't desperately tried to talk to you. But I hid my true self from you," you reminded him, fingers tightening on your tools to the point your knuckles tighten. "You shouldn't make me into something I'm not."
His hands finally fell away from yours, coming to grip the sides of the anvil. Still close. His breath came out hot against your ear. "Then tell me to leave."
Your breath hitched, and finally, you turned to look at him. "What?"
That warm breath tickled your cheek as he leans in, and you saw the flames reflect in his eyes, burning bright as he looked at you. Those same eyes flickered down, to your lips, then back.
"Tell me to leave. Right now," his arm snaked around your back, sliding up and coming to rest at the nap of your neck. His fingers lifted, taking one of the dangling beads of your lotus hairpin and gently rolling it between them. "I'll walk away and leave you to your life, if it is what you truly want. If it will make you happy."
You shook your head, eyes searching his face. His furrowed brow, the arch of his nose, the curve of his lips. You reached a hand up and gently touch the left side of his face.
He didn't stop you, nor did he even flinch. Instead, he raised his other hand, the one that was not on your neck, and placed it right over yours. Over his scar.
He smiled softly. "Imperfection makes it more alive," he whispered. The beads on your hairpin gently clinked together as he continued to feel them between his fingertips.
Your pulse tripped over itself. "You really did use my sketchbook. To find me," The breathless words fell out of you, as you gazed up at him in disbelief. It doesn't feel real. None of it did. You felt that you were about to wake from some perfect dream your heart spun up. "That's insane."
"Probably," he mused. The way his fingers brushed the hair at the nape of you neck made you shiver in the hot forge. "After the sixty-third house, I started getting impatient."
Your eyes widened, but right before you could exclaim an incredulous "What?!", he kissed you.
He had clearly learned his lesson from the dance. You had truly terrible balance.
Right before you could steady yourself with an arm thrown back, a hand ready to clasp onto the edge of the workbench, he reached down and takes it, holding you steady. He brought your arm to his front, wordlessly encouraging you to rest it on his front. So, you did just that.
Mouth moving with his, your fingers fisted into the front of his robes, pulling him in closer. Your back pressed against the edge of the workbench, and your breath escapes you at the feeling.
Immediately, he broke away, searching your face. "Did I hurt you?" The question felt far more loaded that it should, and you felt like he was asking about more than just the workbench.
You shook your head, smiling softly. "No. You didn't."
He kissed you again, mirroring your smile as the forge behind you burned endlessly on.
"All this time, you failed to mention that you have a dragon?"
The massive winged reptile, with it's shimmering red scales, thrashing tail and jagged teeth was something out of a story book. It stared down at you, and for moment, you thought it would simply lean down and snap you up. You tried very, very hard to not look intimidated.
But Zuko stood at the beast's side, patting its leg affectionately. "He's harmless, trust me."
"He's staring at me."
"That's because he likes you."
"How can you tell?"
He paused for a moment, a sneaking smirk written on his lips. "He hasn't tried to eat you."
Incredulously, you stared at him, folding your arms. "You just said he was harmless," But despite yourself, a small laugh escaped you, and you debated just going over there and patting the dragon- Druk, he called him- but something held you back.
The look in Zuko's eyes, perhaps. The pained ache in your chest was large contributor, also. He was leaving soon. Further discussions were to be had over the future of this new idea of a city with other nations, but it would take time. Too long for a Fire Lord to be away from his nation.
It had been two days since the events at the forge in the Lower Ring, and the feeling of Zuko's lips against yours had not left your mind since.
He had made time to come and see you in secret, not wishing to risk you coming over the dividing wall between the rings again. You had spent an evening with him sitting on the rooftop of some houses, staring up into the stars and asking him every question about his adventures across the world. With every story he told, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him.
But all good things had to end, sooner or later.
"I'm going to miss you," the words fell from you before you could hold them in, and simply saying what you had been thinking made tears spring to your eyes. He had come into your life in a whirlwind, spun you around on a dance floor and chased you across the city. He had left a mark on your soul, a brand of fire. "Try to come back and visit, alright? I want to hear more about this 'Republic City' idea."
He abandoned his dragon's side, coming to cup your jaw and press his lips to your falling tears. The sun had begun to rise, and the city was waking around you.
Then, Zuko exhaled softly, as though he made some internal decision. He fixed his gaze on yours, unwavering. "The royal artisan's wing in Caldera City has been empty for years," he stated, "The previous Fire Lord deemed art unworthy of his time and effort."
You blinked. "What?"
His hands dropped from your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulders. You could practically see the cogs spinning behind his eyes, the fire fuelling them was right there in his irises. "Most of the jewellers there only make ceremonial pieces. Decorations."
Your head rapidly started to spin, not helped by the pounding in your chest. "You're doing that thing again," you whispered, and at his quizzical look, you explained. "That thing where you start talking weirdly before you say something that makes my heart literally stop."
He laughed, and the fondness that blanketed your heart told you that you could never live a fulfilling life where that laugh was not a part of it.
He quirked his head, still smiling. "I didn't realise I had a habit," But that smile soon faded, replaced by something more vulnerable. "None of them makes things the way that you do."
Your heartbeat stumbled. "Zuko..."
He shook his head, not wanting to hear protest. "Come to the Fire Nation with me,"
Before you could open your mouth, he pressed on with a soft hush. "I know. I know what I'm asking of you. To leave your life here and start something new in a land unknown to you. I know how selfish I'm being right now. But I am the most selfish man alive when it comes to you."
You smiled sadly. "Zuko... my family lost everything to the Fire Nation."
A beat of heavy silence crossed over. "I know."
"And you're asking me to go there anyway."
"I'm asking you," he said carefully, "to bring your work somewhere it can live again. A new nation. A nation that really needs to find meaning."
The morning wind breezes through the city, catching loose strands of your hair. He reached out automatically, tucking them gently behind your ear. His touch lingered there, brushing against your ear. Then back more, until he made contact with the lotus hairpin. The piece that gave you the most pride. The one he had upturned the city for, all in the hope... all in the hope to find you.
"I've seen what you can create with scraps and broken tools," he continued quietly, over the breeze. "You do not belong at that little workbench in the corner of a blacksmiths. I want to give you more. As much as you will allow me to give you."
As his words settled in your chest, your eyes stung. You looked away for a moment, at the city around you. At the Lower Ring beyond the wall, that physical restriction that had always held you back. But the forge. The market. You had built it from almost nothing, and you were proud of that. Could the Fire Nation offer you more?
"I wouldn't belong there," you whispered.
"Hm. You said the same thing about the ball."
Your breath caught in your throat. "That," you started, the words nearly dying before they were out in the air, "Was different."
He dragged a hand behind your neck, gently forcing you to look up at him. "When you danced with me, what did you feel?" he asked, lips brushing your ear. "When we kissed at the forge, what did you feel?"
Hope. Desire. Belonging.
You didn't say it aloud- you didn't need to. From the small twitch of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes of cut amber, he knew.
"I would never ask you to become anything different than what you are. A jeweller. Someone whose work deserves to be seen."
He pulled away from the side of your face, from where he whispered in your ear and played with your hairpin. He lowered his face to yours, and murmured, "Someone I love."
The world stilled. Even the dragon's tail ceased its swishing and smoke curled lazily from his nostrils, blending with the morning mist.
Your heart gave one more pitiful pull in your chest. Despite very reason that it should frighten you, Zuko was there to calm it. In the same way he had that night, when he took your hand and lead you into a dance.
Your rose onto your tiptoes, and kissed him.
The wind swept around you sharply, carrying the dragon's heat with it.
You kissed him like you still can't quite believe he was real, just like those night after the ball when you replayed every moment like a play, so that you would never forget him. You felt his hands clamp around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, until you were weightless.
His strong arms pulled you from the ground with care, spinning you around once, twice, as you laugh breathlessly against his lips. He gave you one last grinning peck before setting you down, forehead resting against.
You closed your eyes, breathing him in. Then you mumbled, "I'm bringing my tools. How dare you call them broken. They're literally fine."
The relief that flashed across his face actually takes the weight from his shoulders, and his quiet laughter warms your body straight through.
Behind him, Druk the dragon let our what sounded like an impatient huff, as though bored with the display of affection. Your eyes flickered nervously towards him, and back to Zuko.
"...I've never ridden one before."
His expression softened immediately, and he took your hand, carefully leading you over to Druk with guiding steps. He felt warm. Steady and certain, just as before.
"It's alright."
You watched him climb onto the great beast's back, where he settled on the saddle. The sun gleamed ahead of him, bleeding into his eyes and casting light over his scar. The Fire Lord.
Druk sniffed at you as you approached, fixing an eye on your outstretched hand. You placed in on his lowered snout, fingers smoothing over the course scarlet scales. You assumed that the two, slow and reptilian blinks mean climb on.
Zuko leant down, eyes fixed on you and nothing else.
And when he reached out his hand, you took it without hesitation.
৥ ৥ ৥
part 2
a.n this took way longer than i though it would, oops! anyway i hope you enjoyed, i kinda veered off the original cinderella plotline bc i wanted it to go a little differently and fit in with the atla universe a little better. i really want to make a part 2 to this, so keep an eye out!
You, a poor jewellery maker from Ba Sing Seâs Lower Ring, sneak into a royal ball for inspiration, only to captivate Firelord Zuko with a single dance before fleeing into the night.
Armed only with a memory of a lotus hairpin and a forgotten sketchbook, Zuko becomes determined to uncover your identity...
৥content৥
kinda cinderella au but different, yearning!zuko, kinda stalkerish behaviour from zuko, no use of y/n, fluff, kissing, angst if you squint, slight suggestive themes, non-bender!reader
w.c: 9.5k
The music was beautiful, but loud. It made it hard to concentrate on what you had come here to do.
Another ball held within the Royal Palace, which were becoming more common with each year that had passed since the Avatar had ended the hundred-year war. It was a sign of good fortune for the city, particularly the elite of the Middle and Upper Rings. Even your home in the Lower Ring had seen some prosperity in the last few years. Food was more plentiful, people seemed happier, and even the crime rates had dropped. Things had been looking up.
Fashion trends changed quickly, and one had to adapt to what the high-society folks deemed cool.
Your familyâs jewellery business had once been famous. So famous that theyâd had a shop in the Upper Ring, where all the rich residents would go to buy their jewellery for gatherings just like this. Whether it was wedding rings for their brides, pearls for their mistresses, or even the Earth Kingâs ceremonial mianguan, they had been revered as the best jewellers in the Earth Kingdom.
Verdant Jewels.
Forgotten, of course. Like many businesses during the Hundred-Year War, with the Fire Nation cutting off supply lines and destroying over half of the mining villages across the land.
You had never seen any of of your family's old prosperity, and it may as well not even have existed. But the skills passed down through your family, finally landing in your hands had not wavered, unlike the money. You had once seen it as pointless. Starving, unable to fight back without the gifts of bending... you could have laughed in the faces of your ancestors.
But discovering that skill to fire metal, twisting and tinkering with even the smallest scraps and slivers borrowed from the blacksmith, had proven to be your saving grace. It was what stood between you and quietly fading away in some alley of the Lower Ring, with an empty stomach and no one to remember you.
It started as simple chain bracelets, which at first you'd give away for free to the little girls of the neighbourhood. Then their mothers caught wind, and by that stage you'd grown just proficient enough to set small, pretty stones inside tiny prongs of metal at the cusp of bracelets, necklaces, and even rings. They were uneven, with rough edges and symmetry far from balanced. One day, you were told they had charm. It had been enough to fill you with confidence to keep going. The mothers had demanded you begin charging for them, and from then, you had been able to set up a humble stand on market square and sell them for a copper piece each. It was enough.
Your parents had always talked about the incredible designs created by Verdant Jewels. Sharp, gem-encrusted hairpins shaped like the delicate neck beak of a swan, engraved bangles of the purest jadeite, heavy golden necklaces dripping with every jewel imaginable littered their stories, and even they had never laid eyes on them. Scattered across the Upper Ring, deemed out of fashion and forgotten about in their chests and drawers. All that remained were stories, of a legacy you were struggling to reclaim.
It was important to remain aware of changing style among the upper class, as it influenced the money-spending of the Lower Ring. And it hadn't been easy gaining an invite to the Upper Ring- you owed it all to a Earth Kingdom commander on patrol, who had spotted a set of glass droplet earrings hanging on your market stall and thought they would be perfect for his wife. She had clearly been impressed, and invited you to advertise your wares to her in her personal home. The house itself had been intimidating, never mind the task of stealing an invite to the Earth King's ball, thrown in honour of some special guest, after you had spotted it sitting on the lady's desk.
It was a miracle they hadn't come after you, or that the soldiers at the palace doors had not checked to ensure you actually were Mrs Lin. They had accepted the invitation without protest, and in a matter of moments you entered the dazzling ballroom.
The wide hall stretched out, its golden ceiling supported by carved pillars of warm stone carved with winding patterns of mountains, vines, and flowers, looking as though they had been rooted there, rather than built.
At first, the floor looked like a glimmering lake, but the moment you stepped on its smooth solidness, you realised it was actually jade. Laid in sweeping circular patterns which echoed the city walls, and illuminated by the light of the golden lanterns, all hung at various heights, it glowed.
Like sunlight through a leaf, you pondered. Perhaps a necklace of silver leaves, each one unique, all linked together with a flower at its cusp...
Your eyes fell onto the raised dais at the north of the hall, where the seat of the Earth King rested. It made an impressive picture, with the backdrop of perfectly painted mountains and various animals- platypus bears, turtle ducks and badgermoles made it all the more realistic and reminiscent of everything the Earth Kingdom stands for. The clouds of the painting swirled around its mountains, cresting over the dais, where two men stood.
Both were instantly recognisable, despite the fact you'd never seen them in your life.
The Earth King wore robes of muted green and cream, a beautiful string of jade around his neck and gilded glasses perched at his nose. He smiled down at his people, who were mingling in various spots across the jade flooring and enjoying the endless spread of delicacies you wanted to bundle up and hand out to the people of the Lower Ring.
Your eyes didn't linger on the Earth King. It was incredibly easy to forget he was even there, when compared to the Fire Lord who stood at his side.
He was as impressive as the stories, the ones that had made it through the Ba Sing Se walls.
Once a banished prince, he had well and truly reclaimed his honour. He shone with it, from the ruby red of his robes to the gleaming golden headpiece adorning his hair, which was the most impressive shape of rising flames. You couldn't even begin to imagine how old it was, how much skill it would take to fire gold into that blazing shape. Not even the scar over his left eye and upper cheek marred his glow.
A line of people queued to speak to him. You doubted you would ever be able to get close enough to Fire Lord Zuko to get a proper look at the crown of the Fire Nation, so you settled on weaving through the throng of attendees, catching glimpses of their hairpins, necklaces and earrings and recording each one in your mind. Inspiration was the food of artists, and tonight, inspiration would put food on your table.
You shoved as many jiaozi in your face as possible and continued to work, subtly sketching away in a scrap of parchment all the designs that came to mind. At one point, you had even found yourself tracing the engravings of the pillars, the vine patterns too beautiful to ignore. The edges of the room are easy to cling to, and offer opportunities not only to observe jewellery trends, but how the other half truly live.
"Excuse me."
Your eyes darted up at the voice. You hadn't even noticed the people around you went quiet. It was obvious why, when Fire Lord Zuko stood before them.
Your stared at him, the parchment and charcoal long hidden up your sleeve. You became eerily aware of every sensation- the shift of your stolen clothes against you, the tightness of the shoes, and the gentle caress of the dangling glass droplets of your hairpin against your nape.
"Dance with me."
For a moment, you wanted to glance behind you and look for the person he was talking to. Because surely, he was just looking straight through you. Surely, the Lord of the Fire Nation had not looked at you. had not spoken to you. And he'd spoken in a way you'd never assumed a noble would.
But his eyes were definitely on you. And he was waiting.
Panic flared underneath every inch of your skin, as your mouth moved without a single sound coming out. And the worst thing? He waited.
Eventually, you remembered that you have in fact spoken before (many times, in fact), and should be speaking right now.
"I- uh, I don't... why?"
There was the tiniest hint of a smile that pulled at his lips. "I think you're the only person in this room who hasn't come to talk to me."
Had he been watching you? You glanced around at the crowd, who were still dancing and eating and enjoying the rich atmosphere, but still casted sidelong, observant glances towards the Fire Lord. It was then you noticed the sheer amount of young women at the ball.
With the sketchbook a feeling like a stone weight in your sleeve, and knowing deep down you should just refuse and run... you nodded. He was the Fire Lord, and you had to blend in. Rejecting the Fire Lord would be sure to raise eyebrows and stir suspicion.
Zuko's arm was warm, solid, underneath his robes. It brought you a sense of comfort over the pounding dread in your heart, which only amplified as he led you to the centre of the ballroom. You looked up at him in panic.
"I don't know how to dance," You say dumbly, cursing yourself for getting caught up in the lie. It had been far too easy to. Backtracking, you pretend to actually listen to the dramatic change music over the roaring in your eardrums. "Well, not this one. Ba Sing Se has many... variations of dance."
Zuko's lips twitched up again. It distracted you from the way the dissonant conversations quieten, and the way he placed his hand tentatively on your waist.
His head lowered slightly towards you. "I asked them to play this one. It's from my home. I'll show you how."
The energy of the music the musicians now played grew like a steady heartbeat, opposing your own. The strings of the pipa felt as though they were snapping into place, fast and powerful.
Once the sharp flutes began, Zuko started to lead.
Your steps faltered immediately- a mere fraction of a second, but it feels like enough.
His hand tightened at your waist, the other coming to gently grasp your hand, and a collective gasp and mutter runs through the onlookers. By some miracle, he'd made it look as though he had pulled you into him, instead of letting them notice your fault.
âThis isnâtââ you start, then stop yourself. Not this style, you almost said. Another half-truth, not quite a complete lie.
The music swelled, the drums settling into a steady, unyielding cadence. Around you, the other dancers seemed to adjust seamlessly into sharper turns, exact steps. Men and women who had grown up in halls like these, living with the luxury of learning to dance rather than to simply survive.
âI know,â he said quietly, carefully yet confidently leading you into a sharp turn which had you clutching at his hand. They remained clasped together, both yours and his elbows bent, as though raising your joint fists in prayer. If the stories were true, he was an incredible fire bender. The best, perhaps. You imagined columns of flame billowing out from his palm, and your own grew sweaty.
You blinked, looking away from your feet for the longest stretch of time since the dance had began.
There was no judgment in his expression. No embarrassment, no irritation. Just that same searching look, which made you feel incredibly see-through. He was royalty, and could probably tell a peasant from a mile away. Still, he didn't say anything.
Your next step came too late, your turn slightly off-rhythm. Heated embarrassment crawls up your neck. You shouldnât have agreed to this, you knew you shouldnât have. You wondered if there was still time to slip out. Perhaps no one had gotten a proper look at your face except for him, and it wasn't like he'd chase after you.
âI can stop,â you muttered under your breath, pulling back and attempting to dissuade him from holding on. âYou shouldn't have asked me to dance, there are plenty of others-"
His grip shifted on both your waist and hand, strong enough to keep you exactly where you are.
âNo.â His word was quiet, but firm.
You couldn't even still your body to calm your mind, caught between the urge to flee and the fact that you were in the centre of the Earth King's ballroom with the Fire Lordâs hands on you.
The drums pressed on, steady and unforgiving to your predicament. You actually felt sick. It was getting too complicated. You were just meant to slip in, take a few sketches, then leave.
He shook his head softly, guiding you into a complicated stepping spin. When you stumbled, he was quick to cast the bottom half of his robes out to distract any onlookers from noticing it.
âYou to don't need to follow the music, you know,â he told you. âJust follow me.â
You started to protest. âIâm notââ you started, then stop.
You weren't even a dancer. Not a noble. You're not supposed to be here.
âJust follow me."
It was like looking into his eyes, two golden gems of amber, placing you under some kind of spell. It was too late to back out now, and perhaps it was easier just to follow along with the lie. So you stepped with him, mirroring his movements as best you could.
At first, it felt slightly off, as though you were pushing against a current rather than flowing along with it. The rhythm was incessant, pressed against the edge of your awareness. But you began to step where he guided you, rather than following the demanding music.
The air between you grew charged with something, as the world seemed to narrow to the sliver of space between your bodies. When your next turn landed much cleaner than the last few, you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.
You find yourself looking up at him. A risky move.
"There," he said, quietly. It had been a mistake to look at him, because that's when you noticed the tension in his shoulders, and the way his focus never once drifted, not to the crowd or any watching eyes, but fixed on you.
You never stumbled the rest of the dance.
The final note strikes, and the world rushes back in. Applause, polite for the most part, but then it grew louder for him. The Fire Lord.
That was when you realised his hand was still clasping yours. If he looked any closer, he was sure to notice the scars that dotted it- various burns and cuts from hot, sharp metal, forged in the corner of a dirty blacksmith's shop. Certainly not the hand of noble Lady Lin.
âFirelord Zukoââ
âA remarkable displayââ
âYour partnerâwho is she?â
You hand went rigid in his, feeling its fiery warmth one last time before you pulled it from his grasp. The look of concern he had towards you was a grateful gesture, but you thought nothing of it. You couldn't, not really.
"What is it? A re you alright?"
You shook your head, taking a step back. Panic bit through your words as you look nervously at the approaching noble men and women, who hoped to praise Fire Lord Zuko and his mysterious dance partner.
"I can't," you started, taking another step back. Then another. You clutched your hand to your chest, as though you could still feel his palm pressing against it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
You quickly realised there was no possible way to explain. No way that wouldn't get you arrested and sentenced for impersonation and mingling with nobility under false pretences. The Dai Li could be cruel. Inhumane with their punishments.
So you turned, and ran. Quick enough that all you hear is a "Wait!", before you were swallowed by the crowd. Shifting bodies created gaps just big enough for you to slip through, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out the Fire Nation melody now being played by the musicians. You kept your head down, determined to get out before they stop you, before he caught up.
Your breathing finally began to to calm after you'd scaled the wall, back into the Lower Ring. Back to where you belonged.
The next morning, at the first light of dawn, you stepped into the blacksmith shop, ready to take your place at the smaller forge in the corner. You had barely slept last night, tossing and turning on your bedroll, haunted by amber eyes and a warm, gentle hand.
It was only after you had heated the forge and gathered the metal scraps, that you realised what had gone missing.
Your sketchbook.
Zuko stared at where you had disappeared from his sight, his jaw set.
People crowded him, and for once he wished he could go back to his defiant, rude childhood self and tell them all to fuck off and leave him alone. But it wouldn't bode well for the ongoing talks for the construction of the future Republic City- something he desperately needed the Earth King's approval on.
He was stuck trying to make sense of it, they way you had changed your mind, the way your voice had become so panicked, eyes wide with terror. But something shifted near his feet, and he tears his eyes away from where he's last seen your disappearing form.
He picked up the small, worn sketchbook, turning it over in his hands. Just by first glance, it certainly did not belong to any of these people. His thumb brushed over the faint indentations in the leather, where fingertips had spent a long time holding. His scar tingled.
Curiosity had always gotten the better of him.
Placing the sketchbook in the sleeves of his robes, he quickly dismissed himself for the evening, bidding goodnight to Earth King Kuei and his many guests and a promise to meet in the morning for more construction talks.
He carefully slipped into a dark, empty hallway, with his back pressed against the cool stone of a hidden alcove, he opened the sketchbook. A flame ignited in his palm, held not too close to the sketchbook for fear of setting it alight.
Page after page was filled with drawings of various jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, arm cuffs, rings, hairpins... some sketches were more detailed than others, but each was borne from a careful hand, which captured all angles of each piece. Some had been crossed out, with scribbled notes beside them- metal too expensive, stone slips and needs better setting, too thin, bends under pressure.
Another note beside a familiar-looking hairpin caught his eye.
The hairpin had a design of twisting vines, with a lotus flower in bloom cresting at the top. Beads, labelled as being glass, dangled from the flower, looking like dripping dew drops.
Beside the hairpin, a charcoal scrawl read, imperfection makes it more alive. Final version- keep this one.
He continued to pore over the little sketchbook, searching with keen eyes for the slightest mark that could be a signature, an address of a home or shop, but to no avail.
He sat in the bed of the grand guest room within the Earth Palace, silk blankets pooling around his waist, firelight highlighting the yellowish pages and shining a slight glow over his skin. He imagined that hand he held, the hand of his mystery woman, the way it clutched and held on to him. She did not behave the way woman at the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation behaved. She had been nervous, flighty. He had seen the way she'd weaved through the crowd, and had only looked at him once. Why had she hidden herself away?
It had been wrong of him to pull her into the centre of that jade floor, and subject her to the stares and whispers of nobles and officials. Even King Kuhei had asked him, when the night was over, who that delightful young woman he'd danced with was. It had annoyed him.
Zuko threw his head back onto the pillows, throwing an arm over his face and letting out a heavy sigh.
Who were you?
Where were you?
A lot of things in his life had left him. Some things had stayed away, for the best. And some things had come back to him.
He decided that the mystery jewellery maker would be one of the latter.
The guards standing at his bedroom doors practically jumped out of their skin when he threw the doors open, fixing them with a hard stare. He'd always been very good at giving orders.
"Take this and make copies of every page. If a civilian recognises these pieces, you will inform me immediately."
By the next day, over one hundred civilians had come forward after seeing the copies of the sketchbook pages, claiming to recognise the jewellery in their own collections. But with every house he visited, his hopes of finding you dwindled. Ba Singe Se was the largest city in the world, and clearly filled with people who just wanted to waste his time.
This had been the twenty-third house today, and once again, the noble lady and her husband had laid out the entirety of their jewellery boxes. Gems, gold, and jade shone, and each piece was elaborate and beautifully designed. All flawless, technically perfect. Expensive. But they all felt... empty. Crafted to impress, but not to mean anything.
Not likeâ His jaw tightened. Not like yours.
Zuko stood, the others in the living room standing with him, with a heavy sigh. He tucked the sketchbook back into his sleeve, before offering a polite smile to the lady and her husband.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I do not think these pieces match the ones I am looking for. Farewell."
Two more days passed in the same way.
House after house, each one boasting an impressive collection of jewels, but less impressive results. Zuko grew more frustrated, spending his nights getting it out of his system by firebending in his private courtyard within the Earth Palace. After accidentally setting several peonies alight, he'd sulked back to his room, turning the sketchbook over in his hands.
It was on the fourth day that something finally turned up.
Once again, he'd been visiting houses to try to match the sketches with the ones owned by the rich families of Ba Sing Se. The routine had gotten thin, as well as his patience. His chances of finding you were growing slimmer.
Mrs Chen, the lady of the house, had fussed over him like a grandmother, wailing in protest when he'd poured his own tea. Her jewellery laid our between them, but he didn't need to compare them against the sketches- they'd been burned into his mind, after several sleepless nights.
Mrs Chen's jewellery collection was much smaller than the other sixty-three families he had visited. She'd carried the wooden box in herself, and with a smug smile she'd begun to tell him the story why.
"I only collect rare items, as you can see," she waved a wrinkled hand over the necklaces, rings and hairpins. "I only keep what is worth keeping."
For a moment, Zuko's disappoint reached a chasm. It was the same as all the others.
But then his breath hitched.
It wasn't the most elaborate piece in the collection, not did it boast the most gems. It was lotus flower hairpin, and he'd seen it before. It had sat in your hair, holding it up away from your neck, and the beads cascading from it had swayed against your nape as you danced.
The only differences, he noticed when he'd carefully picked it up, was that the metal seemed of higher quality. A pink gemstone was nestled in the bud of the lotus, and each of the beads were diamond rather than glass.
Zuko turned it over, once, twice, three times before he asked, "This one. Where did you get it?"
Mrs Chen rubbed her chin. "That's an old piece, one of the first in my collection. It had belonged to my mother, you see. She'd purchased it from a shop that no longer exists."
Zuko's attention, which had gone slightly fuzzy the longer he'd looked at the hairpin, suddenly snapped into place. Mrs Chen looked startled for a moment- fire burned behind his eyes.
"Which shop?"
"It was called Verdant Jewels," she told him. "They were family owned- It closed its doors during the war- too many of the family's mines had been shut down."
Guilt and shame gnawed at him. The Fire Nation had destroyed everything in its path, and he had been a destroyer once. There was a time in his life that Zuko would have actually been pleased to hear that the Earth Kingdom had suffered, and wouldn't have batted an eye at the news of a village being razed do the ground. Or even doing the razing himself.
Suddenly, it clicked.
He pulled out the sketchbook, flicking to the twelfth page where he'd remembered one of your notes beside a delicate bend engraved with flecked markings. It had clearly not turned out the way you had expected it to, so you'd written a reminder to redo it.
Try again with better materials.
Need more brass- save.
What he had stupidly interpreted as you simply saving metal to use for future adornments, was actually a reminder to save money. He pictured that night again, your discomfort in the ballroom, your lack of dancing skills which every other person in the room possessed, and how you had disappeared from his sight within the crowd.
The hairpin burned in his hand, forged by a forgotten jewellers a hundred years ago, and the one you had been wearing were not very different after all. You clearly worked with the same skill these jewellers had all those years ago, who had developed the finest, mot unique adornments for the people of the Upper Ring. You did not possess grand materials; things that were once crafted from gold and jade were now made of smoothed glass, polished stones and brass. But you worked with what you had...
He knew where to find you.
"Mrs Chen," Zuko staggers to his feet, still clutching the bejewelled hairpin. "May I take this? I have gold- lots of it. Name your price."
What he had not fully expected, was the look of outrage on the old lady's face. "I'm sorry, Fire Lord Zuko, but that is a family heirloom, I cannot part with it."
But Zuko still left Mrs Chen's home a few moments later, the hairpin tucked into his sleeve along with your sketchbook and his head feeling a little lighter. He commanded his guards to lead him to the Upper Ring monorail station, and to inform him immediately of the next train departing for the Lower Ring.
Meanwhile, back in her home, Mrs Chen sat wide-eyed, at the Fire Nation crown in her hands.
The market was always busy at this time of day, the sun inching across a cloudless sky to the tune of a hundred footsteps.
You had already made eight sales today, and the copper coins jingled in your pocket to the tune of good meals this week. You could get a couple more rings or necklaces sold, then head back to the blacksmiths and finish up on the brass ring you'd been dying to finish. You'd finally saved up for some extra brass, and could probably have enough left over to make a few more. You were glad you'd memorised the designs, but it would have been better to actually have your sketchbook in hand, so that you could draw out a few more ideas for engravings.
You had also managed to remember some of the deigns you'd seen that night on your... outing to the Upper Ring. Right now, it felt like you had lost more than you gained, with losing the sketchbook, and getting caught up in a fantasy world that involved developing a crush on Fire Lord Zuko. You tried telling yourself it was just the cacophony of emotions that night making you think of him every waking moment.
You had to forget about him. It was nothing more than a silly fantasy that you couldn't afford to get caught up in. Literally. He occupied your thoughts the most during your work at your small table and forge at the blacksmith's. The heat reminded you of him, his hands. The glowing embers became his eyes.
You even caught yourself one afternoon humming the Fire Nation music, before dropping your head into your sooty hands and telling yourself to get a grip. He was nice to dream about, but that was all he was.
"Thank you!" you bid farewell to a gaggle of little girls who slipped bangles onto their wrists with each other's help. You smiled softly as they skip back to their mothers, with a lonely pang in your chest.
You'd brought some polished, coloured glass and wire, hoping to replicate a design you'd spotted on the bony wrist of a Upper Ring noble from the ball during short lulls between customers. You reached for your tools, ready to twist another section of wire into place to securely hold the glass in place, when something in the market's atmosphere shifted. Conversations seemed to fall and spike at something in the near distance.
A man hurried past your stall, eyes fixed ahead as he urged people to the side.
âMoveâmoveâheâs coming throughââ
You frowned slightly.
âWho?â somebody called from the stall opposite yours.
The answer didn't come from the man who had rushed past. Instead, it got carried by the crowd like a spark catching on a dry field.
âThe Fire Lord!â
A glass bead dropped from your fingers, clacking onto the wood of the stall and matching the rhythm of your heart.
âThe Fire Lord is here!"
âNo, I heard heâs inspecting-â
âMake way!â
The words blurred together, but the meaning landed on your shoulders all the same.
Firelord.
Zuko.
Your stomach dropped. He couldn't be here. He shouldn't. Why would he-?
Perhaps he was coming with guards. He'd found out you had lied to get inside the King's personal residence, had tricked the officials into thinking you were some commander's wife. You had tricked him, and he had taken it as a slight. he would hand you over to the Dai Li for deserved punishment.
Your pulse kicked hard, sudden and sharp. Then your hands finally caught up to your thoughts, racing to gather your things before it was too late. The tray of finished pieces, your tools, the cloth beneath them, all gathered into your arms. You'd be damned if you left them behind like your sketchbook.
But your movements fumbled in the midst of your panic- the wire you had been working with tangled on a ragged nail poking out from your old wooden stall.
You swear, fingers clumsily trying to free it.
"Make way for Fire Lord Zuko!"
You lowered your head, hoping, praying that he wouldn't notice you. You were just another vendor, another face. But then you made the mistake of taking a chance, and you looked up.
Zuko walked through the space that parted for him, the people of the Lower Ring waving and calling out his name in the hopes he'd notice. He was scanning the throes, not offering anyone a second glance.
Before you fully realised, you were looking into those amber eyes again.
Your eyes dropped immediately, at last freeing the wire and turning away from the market, head down. Walk. Just walk.
"Wait!"
His voice cut through you, and for a foolish moment, you wanted to wait. You selfishly hoped he had come here for you on purpose, and that he had felt the same way you had when you danced together. But it was too much of a risk.
You darted into an alleyway, weaving past people rushing our of their homes to catch a glimpse of the Fire Lord. You quickly turned down a narrower path between homes and stalls, hoping that you're moving fast enough to disappear.
Your shoulder clipped a hanging cloth, sending it swaying, but you didn't dare stop to fix it.
"Stop!"
His voice again, sounding more urgent. You risked a glance back, so see him knocking the same cloth you had out of his way to keep up his chase. People watched with wide eyes, pointing at the Fire Lord and calling out his name. But he just kept going.
You could lose him. You knew these streets well, you just needed to-
An uneven stone catches your foot, sending you stumbling forward and knocking the balance out from right underneath you.
A hand closed around your wrist, catching you before you fell. You remembered that warmth. He had you, and there was no chance he'd let you go.
So, you turned.
It was painful to look at him, knowing that in another life, you perhaps could have had him. Your family would still be prospering in the Upper Ring, every noble wearing an item from Verdant Jewels. You would have been trained in the art of dancing, and it would have been easy to impress the visiting Fire Lord with your grace and skill. But the time for pretending had come to an end.
His gaze searched your face, quick and certain. "You-" he started, before swallowing. "You left."
Your brows furrowed, before realisation dawned. He was talking about the dance.
"I had to," you managed to find your voice, although it was unsteady. His grip on your wrist loosed, but not entirely, not enough to let you run again.
Barely a moment passed before he responded with a, "Why?"
You shook your head, trying to pull your wrist back but he was unrelenting. "I had to. I didn't belong there, it... it was a mistake to go." You waved your other hand, gesturing to yourself. You didn't belong there, not for one moment. It was just pretend.
He stared at you for a moment, his dark eyebrow furrowing. "No, it wasn't."
You stopped trying to pull away from him, now looking at him in utter confusion. You want to help him understand, you truly did. But all it would do is pull you deeper in. In to him. People had already seen you together, watching you run. It wouldn't be difficult for them to assume the worst. And if somehow, incredibly, you made it off without being handed over to the authorities, you wouldn't be able to sell as much as a ring. You would be ostracised, avoided.
As though sensing your worry, he lets go of your wrist to reach into his sleeve, pulling out a familiar item.
Worn edges, soot-smudged edges and that corner you bent and never fixed.
"You left this." Zuko stated simply, eyes darting between it and you. "I've been using it."
Your eyes broke away from one of your only material possessions, and land on his. "What?"
"To find you," Again, he talked like it was obvious. But somehow, you knew he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was that look in his eyes- wide, clearly wanting to understand. "I just... had to know why you left. Why you were even there in the first place."
There was no chance he would leave you now that he'd found you, you realised. This man who had danced with you at the ball, who had kindly covered for your dancing skills (or lack thereof) and had taken care of your sketchbook. You had ran away from him, after all. You owed him an answer.
If you couldn't find the words, then you would have to show him.
"Not here," you told him, as he pressed the sketchbook into your palm with such gentleness it made your lip wobble. "If you want answers... come with me."
You decided, wisely, to avoid the main paths.
One of Zuko's personal soldiers caught up at one point, which he had commanded to retreat- peruse the market.
You never once had to look back. You didn't need to, when you could feel the heat searing from him.
You pushed the door of the small forge the moment you arrived, shutting out the light and any prying eyes. You took a moment to breath, forehead pressed against the door, before you turned to him.
It was funny, how out of place he looked. In his impressive Fire Lord robes, although he'd clearly forgone the crown this time, he looked like the handsome protagonist of one of those street plays.
He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the small forge where you bend metal without any special powers, the tiny rack of tools and the dusty floor. You cringed the longer he looked, and desperate to fill the silence, you spoke.
"This is it. Impressive, right?"
"Yes, I think so."
You stared at him, almost wanting to laugh. His voice was incredibly earnest; did they not teach sarcasm in the Fire Nation?
Shaking your head, you set your bag down in the corner, your gaze passing slightly bitterly over the place you called your life.
After a few moment's silence, you decided to tell him. What more could you lose? Your dignity, perhaps. "This is just what's left of my family's legacy," you said, picking up a half-finished ring and rubbing it with your thumb. "They were jewellers, in the Upper-"
"The Upper Ring," he interjected suddenly. Intensely. "Verdant Jewels. I know."
The ring slipped from your hand, abruptly clattering to the floor. "H-how did you know that?"
The blush that spread across his high cheekbones was a sight you wanted to never stop seeing. Dusty pink just visible in the low light of the blacksmith's, you saw the Prince shining through. He was not a Fire Lord, simply Zuko.
He coughed awkwardly, eyes latching onto yours. "I've been... looking for you. Ever since you left. I was told that Verdant Jewels made the most beautiful and rare things."
His heavy stare made you shift your feet, but you shrugged it off. "They don't exist anymore. It's just me. They at least had the decency to leave me with some of their skills."
Zuko's gaze shifted sideways, barely a fraction, as though searching for something at the back of your head. "You made the hairpin. The one you wore that night- it's in your sketchbook. You've made everything in that book."
You nodded. "Yeah. Some are still a work in progress, though."
"Show me."
You blinked. "What?"
"I want to see you..." he started, lingering on the words for a moment too long. It's a moment that had your heart leaping in your chest. "I want to see you make them."
You didn't quite know what to do. No one had ever asked you, for anything like this. He was the Fire Lord, a man who ruled an entire nation and was one of the most powerful benders in the world. At the least, you appreciated his supposed interest. Could you really deny him?
"You don't have to-"
"I do," he said with finality. That strange feeling tightened your chest up, dangerously.
"... Alright," you replied, maybe a little too quickly. Your eyes dropped to the forge, only a few glowing embers alight from your day's work here yesterday.
You reached for the bag of coal, ready to hoist it up- when a sudden heat torched behind you. You spun around in shock, to see a blazing fire filling the forge. Its flames twisted and curled around each other, and you couldn't look away. But when you did, you saw Zuko's outstretched palm return to his side, a satisfied look on his face.
You raised an eyebrow at him, a smile threatening your lips. "Seriously? Where have you been all this time? I'd have saved a fortune on coal these last couple of years."
You don't catch his small smile when you turn around and busy yourself with gathering what you need- strips of brass, a small glass bead, and your trust, worn tools. The fire he lit in the forge burned a lot hotter than the ones you usually lit, thanks to his clear, natural talent for fire bending. You imagined having that same ability, and huffed at how easy it would be to melt metal with fire beneath your fingertips, or even bend it with the new metal bending fad going around. Had your family, the past owners of Verdant Jewels, possess those talents?
You didn't have to turn around to know he was watching.
Watching as you focus despite the heat brushing incessantly at your skin as you heat the metal in the fire with old prongs, before bringing it back to the small anvil with extreme care. You'd endured enough burns on your skin to last the Avatar's lifetime.
But what you didn't expect was for him to come closer. He doesn't crowd, nor is it intrusive. He was just... near. You'd been closer than this before, dancing to the music from his nation. Your hand had been clasped in his, and his other had been on your hip. You wondered what it would feel like for him to reach forward and put his hand back in that same spot.
You tried to focus harder.
Your fingers twisted with the tools, carefully bending, shaping, then back into the flames. Repeat. Repeat.
You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth. "This part is the most important. If the base is wrong, everything else just... oh."
Zuko's hand enclosed around yours, with the lightest touch.
"Keep going," he murmured, and you feel his chest press against your back, just as gently as his hand was to yours. "I want to see."
Your breath stuttered out of you, to the relentless fever pitch of your pounding heart.
His hand followed yours, every time you twisted the metal or the tools, and even followed as you fired it in the flames. Flames, which you swore burned brighter than before.
"This- this isn't how it's supposed to be done," you breathed.
His mouth, brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver despite the sweat beading at your neck, simply murmured the words, "I didn't think it would be," His fingers curled around yours, his touch heavier yet flawless in their movements with yours. "You do not possess earth bending... and yet you control this metal like it's a part of you. You- it's incredible,"
The world outside felt very far away, as the crackle of the flames and the shift of fabric filled your senses. His chest was solid against your back, but despite the heat it brought, and as much as you wanted to just turn around and meet the amber eyes that you felt flickering between your joined, working hands and the side of your face, you kept your back to him. It was easier that way.
When he spoke next, his tone was more serious. "Do you regret it?"
You pressed your lips together, focusing creating a small lip in the metal for the ring's setting. "Regret what?"
He was silent for a few moments, as though thinking carefully over what he was going to say next. "Going to the Earth King's ball."
You didn't even risk a look towards him, knowing that if you had, you would do something stupid. But would you even regret that?
"No," you replied, attempting to keep your voice level despite the nerves that threaten it. "I don't."
You had relived that night over and over again in your mind, dreaming of the Fire Lord who had captivated your every thought since. Now he was here, his hands once again touching yours, and you couldn't even get yourself to turn around.
You swore for a moment his hands shifted- just a fraction.
"But you ran away. Twice."
A wry smile tugged at your lips. For being a ruler of a nation, he sure was a little slow to catch on sometimes. "You said to me that I was the only person who hadn't desperately tried to talk to you. But I hid my true self from you," you reminded him, fingers tightening on your tools to the point your knuckles tighten. "You shouldn't make me into something I'm not."
His hands finally fell away from yours, coming to grip the sides of the anvil. Still close. His breath came out hot against your ear. "Then tell me to leave."
Your breath hitched, and finally, you turned to look at him. "What?"
That warm breath tickled your cheek as he leans in, and you saw the flames reflect in his eyes, burning bright as he looked at you. Those same eyes flickered down, to your lips, then back.
"Tell me to leave. Right now," his arm snaked around your back, sliding up and coming to rest at the nap of your neck. His fingers lifted, taking one of the dangling beads of your lotus hairpin and gently rolling it between them. "I'll walk away and leave you to your life, if it is what you truly want. If it will make you happy."
You shook your head, eyes searching his face. His furrowed brow, the arch of his nose, the curve of his lips. You reached a hand up and gently touch the left side of his face.
He didn't stop you, nor did he even flinch. Instead, he raised his other hand, the one that was not on your neck, and placed it right over yours. Over his scar.
He smiled softly. "Imperfection makes it more alive," he whispered. The beads on your hairpin gently clinked together as he continued to feel them between his fingertips.
Your pulse tripped over itself. "You really did use my sketchbook. To find me," The breathless words fell out of you, as you gazed up at him in disbelief. It doesn't feel real. None of it did. You felt that you were about to wake from some perfect dream your heart spun up. "That's insane."
"Probably," he mused. The way his fingers brushed the hair at the nape of you neck made you shiver in the hot forge. "After the sixty-third house, I started getting impatient."
Your eyes widened, but right before you could exclaim an incredulous "What?!", he kissed you.
He had clearly learned his lesson from the dance. You had truly terrible balance.
Right before you could steady yourself with an arm thrown back, a hand ready to clasp onto the edge of the workbench, he reached down and takes it, holding you steady. He brought your arm to his front, wordlessly encouraging you to rest it on his front. So, you did just that.
Mouth moving with his, your fingers fisted into the front of his robes, pulling him in closer. Your back pressed against the edge of the workbench, and your breath escapes you at the feeling.
Immediately, he broke away, searching your face. "Did I hurt you?" The question felt far more loaded that it should, and you felt like he was asking about more than just the workbench.
You shook your head, smiling softly. "No. You didn't."
He kissed you again, mirroring your smile as the forge behind you burned endlessly on.
"All this time, you failed to mention that you have a dragon?"
The massive winged reptile, with it's shimmering red scales, thrashing tail and jagged teeth was something out of a story book. It stared down at you, and for moment, you thought it would simply lean down and snap you up. You tried very, very hard to not look intimidated.
But Zuko stood at the beast's side, patting its leg affectionately. "He's harmless, trust me."
"He's staring at me."
"That's because he likes you."
"How can you tell?"
He paused for a moment, a sneaking smirk written on his lips. "He hasn't tried to eat you."
Incredulously, you stared at him, folding your arms. "You just said he was harmless," But despite yourself, a small laugh escaped you, and you debated just going over there and patting the dragon- Druk, he called him- but something held you back.
The look in Zuko's eyes, perhaps. The pained ache in your chest was large contributor, also. He was leaving soon. Further discussions were to be had over the future of this new idea of a city with other nations, but it would take time. Too long for a Fire Lord to be away from his nation.
It had been two days since the events at the forge in the Lower Ring, and the feeling of Zuko's lips against yours had not left your mind since.
He had made time to come and see you in secret, not wishing to risk you coming over the dividing wall between the rings again. You had spent an evening with him sitting on the rooftop of some houses, staring up into the stars and asking him every question about his adventures across the world. With every story he told, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him.
But all good things had to end, sooner or later.
"I'm going to miss you," the words fell from you before you could hold them in, and simply saying what you had been thinking made tears spring to your eyes. He had come into your life in a whirlwind, spun you around on a dance floor and chased you across the city. He had left a mark on your soul, a brand of fire. "Try to come back and visit, alright? I want to hear more about this 'Republic City' idea."
He abandoned his dragon's side, coming to cup your jaw and press his lips to your falling tears. The sun had begun to rise, and the city was waking around you.
Then, Zuko exhaled softly, as though he made some internal decision. He fixed his gaze on yours, unwavering. "The royal artisan's wing in Caldera City has been empty for years," he stated, "The previous Fire Lord deemed art unworthy of his time and effort."
You blinked. "What?"
His hands dropped from your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulders. You could practically see the cogs spinning behind his eyes, the fire fuelling them was right there in his irises. "Most of the jewellers there only make ceremonial pieces. Decorations."
Your head rapidly started to spin, not helped by the pounding in your chest. "You're doing that thing again," you whispered, and at his quizzical look, you explained. "That thing where you start talking weirdly before you say something that makes my heart literally stop."
He laughed, and the fondness that blanketed your heart told you that you could never live a fulfilling life where that laugh was not a part of it.
He quirked his head, still smiling. "I didn't realise I had a habit," But that smile soon faded, replaced by something more vulnerable. "None of them makes things the way that you do."
Your heartbeat stumbled. "Zuko..."
He shook his head, not wanting to hear protest. "Come to the Fire Nation with me,"
Before you could open your mouth, he pressed on with a soft hush. "I know. I know what I'm asking of you. To leave your life here and start something new in a land unknown to you. I know how selfish I'm being right now. But I am the most selfish man alive when it comes to you."
You smiled sadly. "Zuko... my family lost everything to the Fire Nation."
A beat of heavy silence crossed over. "I know."
"And you're asking me to go there anyway."
"I'm asking you," he said carefully, "to bring your work somewhere it can live again. A new nation. A nation that really needs to find meaning."
The morning wind breezes through the city, catching loose strands of your hair. He reached out automatically, tucking them gently behind your ear. His touch lingered there, brushing against your ear. Then back more, until he made contact with the lotus hairpin. The piece that gave you the most pride. The one he had upturned the city for, all in the hope... all in the hope to find you.
"I've seen what you can create with scraps and broken tools," he continued quietly, over the breeze. "You do not belong at that little workbench in the corner of a blacksmiths. I want to give you more. As much as you will allow me to give you."
As his words settled in your chest, your eyes stung. You looked away for a moment, at the city around you. At the Lower Ring beyond the wall, that physical restriction that had always held you back. But the forge. The market. You had built it from almost nothing, and you were proud of that. Could the Fire Nation offer you more?
"I wouldn't belong there," you whispered.
"Hm. You said the same thing about the ball."
Your breath caught in your throat. "That," you started, the words nearly dying before they were out in the air, "Was different."
He dragged a hand behind your neck, gently forcing you to look up at him. "When you danced with me, what did you feel?" he asked, lips brushing your ear. "When we kissed at the forge, what did you feel?"
Hope. Desire. Belonging.
You didn't say it aloud- you didn't need to. From the small twitch of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes of cut amber, he knew.
"I would never ask you to become anything different than what you are. A jeweller. Someone whose work deserves to be seen."
He pulled away from the side of your face, from where he whispered in your ear and played with your hairpin. He lowered his face to yours, and murmured, "Someone I love."
The world stilled. Even the dragon's tail ceased its swishing and smoke curled lazily from his nostrils, blending with the morning mist.
Your heart gave one more pitiful pull in your chest. Despite very reason that it should frighten you, Zuko was there to calm it. In the same way he had that night, when he took your hand and lead you into a dance.
Your rose onto your tiptoes, and kissed him.
The wind swept around you sharply, carrying the dragon's heat with it.
You kissed him like you still can't quite believe he was real, just like those night after the ball when you replayed every moment like a play, so that you would never forget him. You felt his hands clamp around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, until you were weightless.
His strong arms pulled you from the ground with care, spinning you around once, twice, as you laugh breathlessly against his lips. He gave you one last grinning peck before setting you down, forehead resting against.
You closed your eyes, breathing him in. Then you mumbled, "I'm bringing my tools. How dare you call them broken. They're literally fine."
The relief that flashed across his face actually takes the weight from his shoulders, and his quiet laughter warms your body straight through.
Behind him, Druk the dragon let our what sounded like an impatient huff, as though bored with the display of affection. Your eyes flickered nervously towards him, and back to Zuko.
"...I've never ridden one before."
His expression softened immediately, and he took your hand, carefully leading you over to Druk with guiding steps. He felt warm. Steady and certain, just as before.
"It's alright."
You watched him climb onto the great beast's back, where he settled on the saddle. The sun gleamed ahead of him, bleeding into his eyes and casting light over his scar. The Fire Lord.
Druk sniffed at you as you approached, fixing an eye on your outstretched hand. You placed in on his lowered snout, fingers smoothing over the course scarlet scales. You assumed that the two, slow and reptilian blinks mean climb on.
Zuko leant down, eyes fixed on you and nothing else.
And when he reached out his hand, you took it without hesitation.
৥ ৥ ৥
part 2
a.n this took way longer than i though it would, oops! anyway i hope you enjoyed, i kinda veered off the original cinderella plotline bc i wanted it to go a little differently and fit in with the atla universe a little better. i really want to make a part 2 to this, so keep an eye out!
no because nobody understands how hard it was to find x reader fics of anyone in the gaang or atla fandom in general before this movie came out. now thereâs new fics coming out daily. I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THISâźď¸
you are the youngest daughter of house zenin. yet another daughter, yet another disappointment to your noble family. hidden away, neglected, until one day your father strikes a marriage match between you and a low-born knight named choso kamo.
choso leaves rather unceremoniously the morning after your disastrous wedding night, and returns years later as a lord cloaked in golden glory, having defeated a deadly dragon. you soon find yourself swept away to his faraway castle, in very close quarters with the stranger you call husband who you're convinced hates you. until one day you realise, it's actually quite the opposite.
âď¸ content âď¸
(18+) choso kamo x f!reader, medieval fantasy au, inspired by UtOT by suji kim, arranged marriage, naoya mention, a LOT of misunderstanding, lack of communication, reader is kinda innocent, dubious consent (bedding ceremony), smut, BREEDING KINK, mentions of pregnancy and children, both are virgins at the beginning, no use of y/n, p-in-v, whiny softdom!choso, biting, swearing, oral (fem receiving), fingering
word count: 14k
I finally started reading the novels for Under the Oak Tree by Suji Kim, which has heavily inspired this fic! If you haven't read it, please check it out as well as the webtoon, especially if you're a fan of medieval fantasy (and the sexy piece of meat Riftan Calypse who inspired Choso in this). this shit is LONGGGG. I definitely didn't cover all the parts of their relationship as i wanted, but I was thinking about making some bonus chapters? anyway enjoy!!!
"i now pronounce you man and wife."
the archbishop's voice echoed off the walls of the church hall, carried by the stone statues lining the towering walls and stained glass windows. in that moment, he was executioner. your family were your judge and jury.
they stand within the first few pews, and although your back is turned to them, you can feel their mocking stares burning through the white lace of your wedding dress. your father was pleased, now that his youngest daughter was finally out of his hands. your older sister's hand was promised to the prince of these lands. your hand was now enclosed in one belonging to a lowborn knight, recently turned lord. a knight who was leaving tomorrow on a arduous journey across the continent, to complete an impossible expedition. to slay a dragon.
choso kamo was this knight , who's hand now held yours in a light grip. he'd been given two duties- kill the dragon, and marry you. you guessed he decided to get the easiest task out of the way.
choso kamo was by no means a bad man, from what you'd learned eavesdropping on the servants. he didn't seem cruel, but you kept your guard up. no one was ever privy to the actions of cruel men, even those closest to them. those that did, would chose to willfully ignore it. he was tall, with a head of dark-brown hair which appeared black at first glance. his eyes were much lighter, but held a myriad of thoughts behind them. would you ever figure out what they were?
he turns to face you at the archbishop's final command. whatever emotion he is feeling, he does not show it. did he feel disappointment, anger, disgust at the sight of you? this unknown woman, a daughter of a conceited duke, who never showed her face outside the castle walls. you knew why your father had married you to him. he did too.
he leans down, and presses a quick kiss to your lips. you barely even feel it, a quick brush of blushed skin and the union of two strangers is now complete. almost.
the feast follows. hundreds of noble and knightly strangers dine at the the stretching mahogany tables, smashing goblets together and chortling whenever the sweet wine spilled. they have fun in your's and choso's name.
he sits silently beside you, his food as untouched as yours. you don't even think he's taken a sip of wine. you feel as though you should say something, but his personality seems just as impenetrable as his armour.
people dance, people drink, people laugh. you couldn't lie- this is what you thought weddings looked like. n all the books you'd read, the stories of beautiful princesses marrying their true love, the wedding had been a celebration and everyone had their happily every after. you did not feel very happy.
the unhappiness quickly morphed into fear and the revolting feeling of bile rising in your throat when they announced the bedding ceremony.
humiliated, choso takes you dutifully by the hand and leads you from the hall. you walk through the crowd of jeering guests and giggling family members. your cousin naoya chuckles. you don't even look your father in the eye. you don't have to, you know he's pleased with himself.
the walk through the halls towards the bedroom for your bedding ceremony is silent, but the way your heart pounds in your chest it's as though someone is playing a drum. you don't know much about what you're supposed to do, other than lying down and 'letting him do as he must', which were the only words your governess had hissed in your ear, in response to your concerns of the wedding night. it was not something to be enjoyed by you.
choso holds the door open, letting you slip quietly inside like a mouse. you stare at the freshly made bed, and shudder when you hear the door close.
"take off your dress."
shakingly, you are about to obey. but your hands come to a stop.
"i- i can't."
you can't even look at him. he's somewhere behind you, perhaps still by the door. "why not?"
you hang your head, shame crawling through your skin at the feeling of his eyes on you. "the buttons are on the back- i can't reach." you want to crawl behind something big, hide away and cry. was this marriage? being commanded strip your clothing off, and be defiled by a man who had hardly looked at you the entire day?
your body jolts at the feeling of his fingers brushing your neck. he casts your hair over your shoulder, and begins unbuttoning the complicated back of your pure-white bodice, one small snap at a time. your arms feel heavy and useless at your sides, and finally your bodice comes loose. you now stand in your equally white bodice, which the maids had trussed you into in the early hours of the morning. it clung to your upper figure, and flowed loose at the waist. it was much shorter than the usual chemises you wore. the maids told you it was special.
you completely miss the way choso's breath hitches, over the roaring in your ears.
his fingers once again pull at the ribbons at your back, much rougher this time. your body shifts with each drag of a loosened ribbon, until the chemise drops to the floor and you're bare.
you want to die. to disappear into nothingness, far aware where your shame and embarrassment can never find you again. goosebumps prickle along your skin, and you don't dare turn around.
his next command comes out much quieter. "lie down on the bed."
shivering despite the roaring flames in the fireplace, you slowly walk over to the bed and lie on your back. you can see him out of the corner of your eyes, dark and intimidating, but you refuse to look. you stare up at the canopy of the bed, listening to the shuffle of clothing being removed.
the bed dips at your feet, and only then do you finally look.
this stranger you call husband, kneels on the bed in front of you, naked just as you are. you'd never expected a man's body could look like that. your knowledge extended as far as the scientific books you'd uncovered in a dusty corner of the library, which contained detailed illustrations of the human body. you remember slamming the book shut at the sight of the drawing of the naked male figure, positively mortified, before shoving it back onto its shelf. the drawing was woefully inaccurate in several areas, you realise.
choso's upper body is pure, sculpted muscle. had years of wielding a heavy sword in battle done that? his body was defined and heavy, with arms as wide as your head. then your eyes drop down, on pure instinct.
between his thick, bulging thighs, stood his... manhood. you'd overheard the maids whispering about their husband's once or twice. you were never really sure of what they were meant to do.
it slaps against the muscles of his abdomen, and something clear leaks from the flushed red tip. your body feels as hot as it looks. just what exactly had to be done with it?
he's staring again, and says in a low, monotonous voice, "spread your legs."
oh. so that's where it's meant to go.
that delicate cavern between your thighs, which you had been told to never touch. it was sacred, and only your future husband was permitted to see it. a delicate flower, they said.
your knees feel like they've been cemented together when you shakily part them. choso's eyes fall to it, and you see his length twitch. did he not like the look of it?
the bed creaks slightly as he shifts his weight towards you. his eyes are no longer on yours, now focused on his hand which trails along the sheets to your entrance.
"i'm going to touch you now," he states, before quickly adding "to get you ready."
your brows furrow at his words. "what are you- oh!"
your hand clamps over your mouth to stop any more noises like that from spilling out again.
his callused fingers probe at your entrance, gathering a strange wetness that had begun to pool there. then, he pushes one inside, and you have to bite down a scream.
it feels strange. a part of his body was entering you, over and over slowly. a part that you assumed was not even supposed to go inside. the strange feeling doesn't vanish, but changes a little bit with each passing movement. it makes the soft walls of your insides throb in response, and your head grows dizzy.
your fingers scrabble at his hand, trying to pull his fingers from you. "n-no, stop, it feels strange!" you wail. when his fingers continue their movements, you attempt to drag your body further up the bed. but he's quick.
his other large hand, the one that doesn't have its fingers delving inside your body, grips your waist and forces your hips onto the bed. your squirm, but his hold is strong. you'd never escape from it.
"stop moving. i have to ready you."
you whimper, now knowing what that implies.
a few moments later, or perhaps minutes, he pulls his fingers from you. they glisten with slick, and he spends some time staring intently at the mess.
he wraps his wet fingers around himself, moving them up and down the taut, veined skin. you can only watch as he throws his head back, a guttural groan descending from his mouth upon your ears.
he presses it against the wet opening between your legs.
"you're shaking." he says quietly, the two of you refusing to meet each others eyes.
your eyes squeeze shut at the intrusion. this is my duty, you tell yourself. i am his wife. it is our duty.
"please, just be quick." you plead, fingers fisting into the sheets and head buried sideways into a pillow. it had to be done. the marriage was not legal without it.
he stops for a moment, now looking directly at you. you can feel the weight of his stare, the heaviness of his hands on your hips, and the prodding of his length.
then, he pushes in. it takes everything you have not to scream.
it's slow, painful, and embarrassing. the wetness which he'd drawn from you earlier helps with his entrance into you, but there's still a burning stretch. but a part of you is glad he's being slow and steady.
you pant at the stretching feeling of him pushing in against your inner walls. "is... is it in yet?" you wince.
"halfway." he grunts.
you start to panic. your body already feels full to the brim, and there's still more to fit inside? You risk a peek down to where you're both joined, and learn that he is telling the truth.
when he's finally at his hilt, his entire body covers yours. he's massive, looming over you and casting a shadow from his sheer size. your body burns, and you blame the heat of the fire and the burn of him. his body feels like a stoked furnace, just from the proximity of his skin near yours.
his hips move, pulling himself halfway out and pushing back in. you whimper at the returning stretch, but it's not as painful this time. he does it again. and again. until suddenly, it doesn't hurt any more. another feeling replaces the pain. you have to bite your lip to hold in a needy-sounding gasp. lie down, and let him do as he must. this wasn't something for you to enjoy.
his pace grows faster, until the room is filled with the lewd sound of skin against skin. his body leans down, his chest nearly bumping against your chin, but his touch doesn't go any further than his hands on your waist, which he angles up slightly. his cheeks are flushed, his eyes intensely locked on the pillow under your head. he doesn't even want to look at you.
with each of his thrusts, something in your belly coils tighter, despite the anxiety that tingles through you. you keep trying to scold yourself, reminding you that it wasn't your place to feel good. it's a crude mix of emotion, but you can't let it show. your father's probably told him how weak you are. he already knows.
the pulsing need grows stronger, and his thrusts grow sloppy. the hand you have clasped over your mouth fall for a brief moment, and something inside builds, and builds and builds... and snaps.
"Oh, my-!" you cry out, thighs trembling as what could only be described as waves of pleasure roll through your core, over and over. your thighs tremble, and above you, choso shudders and lets out a choked groan.
you feel something spill inside from where he's still sheathed, adding to the sticky wet mess between your thighs. the room is now longer filled with the sound of skin on skin, but a set of heavy breaths. it's quiet, and the pleasurable feeling is slowly ebbing.
with a soft but unmistakeable groan, he pulls himself from your body, which quickly clenches around nothing. you feel his seed leak from it, dripping down to join your maidenhood blood on the sheets.
you lie there, cringing at the discomfort but not entirely sure what to do now. how many times do we have to do it until i'm with child, you wonder?
you don't get much time to worry, especially once choso rises from bed and retrieves a folded towel from a chair near the fire.
he sits at the edge of the bed, gaze stuck to your messy entrance. you instinctively go to close your legs out of self-consciousness, but one of his large hands holds one knee away from each other. you can't look at him, even as he cleans it with the towel. he's probably just glad, you think harrowingly. he doesn't have to do this again with me. he'll go off on this expedition, and find himself a woman of the night who will truly satisfy him.
you're just a wife.
those four words repeat in your head like someone's strumming the same low string on a harp, once you shamefully climb under the bedsheets and curl into yourself. your body is almost falling off the edge, yet there's plenty of room between you and him. he's on his side, facing the opposite wall.
you barely sleep at all that night.
but when you do drift into a fitful dream, your breathing growing heavy, choso eventually turns over to face your back. his hand reaches out, a callused fingertip ghosting across strands of your hair on the pillow. before his skin can reach yours, he pulls back. he doesn't sleep that night.
the bed is cold when you wake up. no sign of your new husband, aside from a slight dip and wrinkle in the pillow where his head had lain.
your chest feels empty. why do you feel such disappointment? he had a arduously long and deadly journey ahead of him to the northern mountains, and would likely encounter all kids of cursed monsters on the rocky road. he didn't know you, and clearly didn't wish to.
the same archbishop who had declared you both husband and wife, in bridled purity and dignity, enters the bedchamber later on. he makes another declaration upon inspection of the speckles of blood on the sheets, announcing your taken maidenhood to the rest of the zenin house. you shrink into the corner of the room. you'd once been read a story as a young girl, about a boy who lived in the walls of his home. his family spent years searching for him, but by the time he finally heard them calling, he had grown too big to get out. your fingers splay across the cold, gristly stone behind you, searching for some hidden door that would take you away from it all.
months pass, and when your family calls for the doctor, it is revealed that you are not with child. the shame stacks up, like bricks.
time passes, and you are shunned to your chambers. you hardly leave, but you don't mind, in a way. your family do not speak to you. you are no longer their daughter, their sister, their cousin. you are the wife of a lowborn knight, who had disappeared off into the wilderness. they want rid of you, but cannot kill you. they pretend you are not there.
you take your meals in your room, have stacks of books sent up each month, and you still speak to the maids from time to time.
there is no news of choso.
after three years, you hear your husband's name again.
the maid hushes it into your ear one morning as she organises your hair in the mirror.
"lord kamo is returning, my lady," she says with urgency. "he is expected back by the end of the week, from a letter sent ahead by his scouts. he is wanting to take you to redfall, to kamo castle."
your eyes look out to the window. sunlight streams in, but there is still a slight breeze trailing in. the first day of spring.
later that week, you stand amongst your family for the first time in years. even on this day when you depart from them, they don't look at you.
your father is overjoyed, knowing that lord choso had been victorious against the dreaded dragon kenjaku. of course he is. he's been promised a portion of the riches from the dragon's lair. all the money in the world to throw away on wine and expensive drapes for the grand hall.
joyous cheers line the streets, as the cacophany of horse hooves clap against the cobblestone road leading up to the castle of zenin, to where you stand.
your gown is a deep navy, lined with a golden trim and intricate designs twirling up the bodice. you're glad choso has riches beyond belief after slaying the dragon. you're the meagre prize he has had to go out of way to collect and cart home.
the death painting knights flood steadily into the courtyard, flowers of all colours tucked into their belts and horse saddles. they stare up at the castle, and guilt gnaws at you. they're probably longing for home at redfall, and instead have had to travel for miles back to where they started. all for you.
choso leads the group, at the helm of a hundred men. you wonder how many did not return.
his hair is longer, and brushes his broad shoulders, which are extended further by his pauldrons. his cheekbones are slightly more defined, but
what's new, however, is the slashed scar across the bumped bridge of his nose, which ends at both sides just an inch below his eyes.
he comes to a halt, stepping down from the black saddle of his dark warhorse and walks to stand in front of you. he stares for a few moment, hands clenched at his sides.
"a joyous return, lord kamo! say, just how much did you recover from the dragon's lair?"
choso barely spares him a glance, his eyes stuck on you. you can't hold his gaze any more, so you drop it to the ground. he keeps looking at you. "there is a cart on its way with your agreed portion of the riches. the rest i have sent back to redfall," is it just you, or does he sound... bored? "i have come for my wife. she will be living at kamo castle from now on, as lady kamo of redfall."
for once, your father has nothing to say. his silence makes a smile twitch at your lips, your head still bent low. you hear a shuffle of material, and a large hand reaches out to you.
it's the first time you've seen him in three years, and he's already touching his skin to yours. your hand feels so small in his, as he leads your towards a carriage. he opens the door, helping you climb inside. it's rather nice, with cushioned seats, blankets and pillows. you open your mouth to thank him, but the door shuts in your face.
what you believed was a nervous kind of hope, curdles into dread. you were going to live in a strange new land, where you knew no one, with husband who very obviously disliked you. you were an inconvenience to the zenins, and you were now an inconvenience to choso.
several minutes pass of you nervously picking at the thread on one of the pillows, listening to the thuds of coin-filled canvas bags hit stone.
eventually, you hear choso shout to his men. they'd finished loading up on supplies, and it was time to head home.
the carriage door opens, and in climbs choso. he shuts the door behind him, and sits down on the opposite side of the carriage. it begins to roll slowly, steadily, out of the courtyard, away from the zenins.
"why are you in here?" you blurt out, before you can hold back the words.
his eyes narrow slightly. "i've been sleeping on mud-soaked bedrolls and spent most of my time on the back of my horse for three years. for his sake and mine, i wanted some rest. i hope my lady wife can excuse me." he replies quietly. the way he'd said it, you would rather have had him shout at you.
mortified, you shake your head. "I am sorry, i spoke out of turn. that is not what i meant."
"what did you mean?"
you swallow, the words shaky and foolish now that you voice them aloud. "you have proven victorious in the battle against the dragon. the people of this land worship you. surely they want to thank you, as you ride by on your horse."
one of his eyebrows raise. "you want rid of me that badly?"
you begin to protest, but he continues. "i have no need for their thanks. they only do that because i succeeded. three years ago, they would not have spared me a glance." he says wryly, carefully shifting the curtain aside to look at the waving throngs of people who bid your party farewell and offer last congratulations.
you watch him- hazel eyes catching the afternoon light that creeps through the curtain, and the fresh scar across his nose. it looks like it's only been healing for a few weeks at most and appeared rather deep. he was lucky whatever had dealt the blow had missed his eyes. the scar brings another layer cloak of authority to him, as though his legendary strength and steel greatsword weren't already enough.
his eyes flicker to yours again. "the journey to redfall will take us around three days. kamo castle may not be to your liking right now. it has only had my staff live in it for the last few years," his gaze turns rather pointed, as if that's somehow your fault. "i have sent for a hundred new gowns for you, in every colour. they should be there by the time we arrive."
that takes you by surprise. he'd bought gowns for you? "you didn't have to do that." you reply awkwardly. you weren't used to this. had he noticed that the dress you were wearing now was several years old? compared to your sister in the latest fashion ordered from the capital, you wardrobe had become drab and rather threadbare.
choso lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "i know you're probably used to diamonds and the finest silk, but you will have all of that and more in kamo castle."
"thank you." you whisper. he hears, but does not say anything back.
soon, the winding cobblestones of the nearest town to zenin castle made way for dirt paths through tall, swaying trees. it stretches endlessly ahead, the carriage wheels creaking softly as they rolled over the uneven path. outside, the late afternoon sun painted the countryside in long golden shadows, but inside the carriage the space felt small and quiet⌠almost suffocating.
occasionally, his knee would bump yours. his legs were far too long for the carriage, but for hours he insisted on sitting there. every time it happened, you mind would flash back to that night three years ago. to what exactly lay underneath that tunic, those trousers. it had been a disaster, yes, and one you were in no rush to repeat. but you would soon be living together. sharing a bed.
choso suddenly gives a hard knock to the side of the carriage, wordlessly bringing it to a halt. he stands as best he can, stopping to avoid the roof, before turning to you. "i will continue the rest of the day on horseback. try to get some sleep, we will stop for dinner rather late tonight."
then, he's gone. the carriage door closes, and soon it's moving again. a steady set of hooves can be heard right beside the carriage now. you don't dare peep past the curtain, knowing already that it's choso.
you do as he asked, trying to get comfortable on the seat. you prop your legs up, and rest a cushion behind your weary, pounding head. the sound of hoof beats and muffled conversation between the knights outside slowly lulls you into an exhausted slumber.
the next day comes in slowly. while the knights and choso get to sleep outside in tents, you are confined to the carriage. you get to leave it for a brief few minutes during the day, to stretch your legs and relieve yourself amongst the trees and bushes, all whilst being guarded in a doglike manner by choso.
he does not let you out of his sight. there is one instance, when you voiced a polite thank you to one of his death painting knights who handed you a cup of water, and he had appeared from nowhere and loomed above the man until he'd run off in the opposite direction. he'd ushered you back into the carriage after that, much to your disappointment. but not before shoving a new cup of water into your hands.
you'd spent your whole life lonely. it was something you'd grown used to. so why did it all of a sudden feel so crushing? your husband did not want you, and it hurt.
you spend one night crying inside the cabin, muffling your sobs into a pillow so as to not wake the sleeping, snoring knights outside. you think of how horribly embarrassed choso would be if his men heard his wife crying like a pathetic little girl. they surely though you were a spoiled thing, and choso did not ask for you. why had he agreed to this woeful mishap of a marriage?
another day passes, and choso informs you that redfall is finally on the horizon. you only nod silently at his words, and return to staring out of the window. you feel his heavy stare on your skin, but you refuse to look. when the carriage door shuts rather harshly, the tears begin their fateful flow again.
eventually, the dirt path turns to cobblestone once more, indicating your arrival in redfall.
choso had taken redfall as his own land only a few months prior to your marriage announcement. he became its lord, and also claimed the castle there. you'd heard that the land of redfall was infertile, and so its people relied on livestock and trade. you weren't entirely sure what to expect, but upon observation out of the carriage window, you are pleasantly surprised.
modest homes and stalls line the streets, and there appeared to be a substantial population. you even spot some merchants, which is a sign of a growing trade. its people look healthy and... happy. their smiles only grown when they notice their returning lord.
"lord kamo, lord kamo! he has saved us once more and returned!" voices cry out vehement praise towards him and his knights. you can't see him, but you're sure he makes an impressive figure, leading his brave knights home atop his dark horse, greatsword swinging heavily at his hip.
the carriage comes to a stop after a short while. you hear heavy boots land on stone, and a few moments later, the carriage door opens. choso holds it open, outstretching one hand to you. you feel the calluses after you gingerly take it, his roughened fingers twining around yours as you step down into the cool sunlight.
kamo castle looms above you, but it's not quite as scary as you'd imagined. it was built more akin to a fortress, but with huge, silvery-grey brick which formed a main keep. Five high walls grew out, forming identical towers draped in plain, crimson flags which fluttered in the calm breeze. it was not built for beauty, but for endurance.
choso stands so close behind you that you can feel him. "i know it is not half the sight of zenin castle. but it is your home now."
he speaks as though you're disappointed. you are a hundred miles from the zenins, and you are the lady of this castle. despite choso's clear dissatisfaction with you, you feel a glimmer of hope. could you freely walk the hallways? sit at the top table? not have to wait for nightfall to stroll the gardens?
"i like it." you say softly. his breath hitches behind you, and his gaze grows heavy on the back of your head.
he takes your hand in his again, and you notice something for the first time. instead of pulling you forward, he keeps himself a mere half a step aheadâhis body naturally positioning itself the way a leader does. but his grip on your hand feels unsure, like he doesn't quite know what to do with it. his thumb rests between one of your knuckles, and you swear he brushes it over them just once, a quick touch. it must have been an accident.
the castle staff await in the entrance hall, bowing immediately at the sight of their lord. he brings you to stand in front of them, and their bows dip even deeper.
he introduces you to them one by one, and you greet them by name with a gentle smile. they seem like homely, friendly people, who, from only a brief interaction, hold a great deal of respect for choso. their lord was now the strongest, most famous knight in the continent. what sparkled in their eyes looked like worship.
"i would like baths drawn for my wife and myself. she has travelled a great distance to be here," two of the maids standing in the greeting line nod, before departing up the grand staircase of the entry hall. choso turns to you, his warm hand dropping from yours. "i must go and see to the rest of the castle. it has been a long time from i have been here."
you nod in understanding, but the small bit of hope dwindles slightly. it made sense- he'd been gone three years, and the castle had been fending without their lord for all that time. so why had a little part of you imagined him making time for you, to show you around this vast, empty castle which from this day on was to be your forever home.
he goes to turn, but stops in his tracks. he doesn't even look at you when he speaks. "we shall dine together tonight." then he's gone, leaving you behind to stare after his billowing black cloak. the only person you knew in this land had just left you.
trying to mask the aching hurt in your heart, you let another one of the maids lead you up the grand staircase. the castle, which looked so imposing and powerful on the outside, was nothing to boast of from inside. not a single painting or tapestry lined the hallways, nor flower sat in a vase. it did not feel like it had ever been lived in.
you follow the maid to a large bathchamber, in which the two additional maids from earlier stood preparing your bath. one poured the remaining steaming water into a large, wooden tub in the centre of the sweet-smelling room, whilst the other sprinkled sprigs of lavender atop the water. the room was alight with numerous candles, shedding a soft, comforting light over the room.
they assist you in removing your dress, and in helping you step into the hot water. steam licks at your skin, making the air hot and hazy. the smell of the lavender is so soothing, you cannot help but let out a sigh.
you had't realised how stiff your shoulders had become after living in a carriage for three days and nights, but they begin the relax as the maids run a rich oil through your hair, and the only sounds that fill the room are your soft sighs and the trickle of water.
"would you care to soak a little longer, my lady?" asks the youngest of the maids, remi. "you've had a long journey."
your eyes light up at the suggestion and you nod little too eagerly. the three of them bow and tell you to call for them once you're ready to be dressed.
your back relaxes into the rounded corner of the tub, against a pillowing cloth they'd laid out for your comfort. the steam makes your eyes grow heavy, your now soothed muscles relax into the water...
the door swings open, and your eyes shoot open, expecting to see that the maids had returned before you have even called. except it's not the maids.
choso stands in the doorway, his face flushed scarlet and eyes wide. they fall, landing on the skin where the water touches.
you let out a mortified gasp, the water splashing as you sink yourself lower to hide your wet breasts. perhaps you could sink down even lower and drown yourself.
the door slams shut before you even get the chance to speak.
he has a bad habit of doing that, you think, and for a split second it offers you a brief distraction from what had just happened. he'd seen you naked before. he'd lain with you. he was your husband. so, why had he ran?
perhaps, you ponder, perhaps he doesn't hate me. perhaps he's just not into the fairer sex. he had spent the last three years surrounded by nothing but other men, after all.
even so, you dunk your head beneath the water, hoping to never have to see him again.
the new fine leather slippers on your feet are soft, yet your footsteps still echo along the empty hallway.
the corridors of the castle are endless, and the lack of decor doesn't help you in your attempt to find the grand hall. but before you can truly start to panic, you come across a set of large doors. you breathe for a few moments, trying to steady your heart as though choso could hear it from inside.
you can't get over the look on his face when he'd stormed into the bathchamber earlier today. for a moment, you'd thought he'd remaining there, staring at you. you imagined him storming into the room, plucking you from the bath with your body still warm and wet, and taking you there and then like a normal husband would. you were well aware of how men rarely loved their wives, but at least they'd spare more than a sentence or two on them per day.
obligation and duty pressing you down, and embarrassment trying to pull you back., you push one of the doors open and step into the great hall.
the rich smell of beef and mellow spices invade your senses the moment you step inside, glancing around at the hall itself. long tables were laid out in rows, parallel to each other. steaming plates of food piled high had been placed in front of two opposite seats- one of which was empty, and in the other one sat choso.
he's changed- now donning a black tunic, inlaid with some silver brocade along the collar, and black trousers. all he was missing was a crown atop his dark brown locks, which had been tied into unruly knots. he looked like a prince.
he stands from his chair the moment he sees you step in, watching your every move as you make your way towards him with your head held high. was his mind also repeating what happened earlier?
"my lady," he breathes, once you are stood before him. "that dress, it's..."
your hands splay over the hem, straightening an imaginary wrinkle. "one of the dresses you had ordered," you reply. "the maids helped me pick it out. there were... a lot to choose from."
he straights where he stands, nodding. "good."
a hefty, awkward silence snakes between you, your eyes darting look anywhere but at him. but he thankfully moves first, pulling out your chair to tuck you into the dining table.
once you're seated, he takes the chair opposite to face you, but the silence continues on for another few moments. so, you decide to eat. the first bite of fluffy potato and lean cut of beef is unlike anything you'd ever tasted before and you can't help but let out the tiniest little moan of delight.
choso, who happened to be mid-sip of wine, coughs, before propping his elbow onto the wooden table and burying his lips into the whitened knuckles of his curled fist. "please... don't make those sounds," he voice comes out muffled, eyes dark as he looks at you. "keep eating."
as you eat, your mind recollects all the good things and bad things about living here. the staff so far had treated you well, the bath had been enjoyable (even if it had been interrupted), and you could roam wherever you wished. on the downside, your husband disliked everything about you. but that was something you could perhaps change.
the more sips of wine you take, the less intimidating it becomes to look him in the eye suddenly and speak. "is there a library here?"
choso nods. "there is, but i have never been in it myself. i believe it's in the eastern tower," he explains. "i had it filled with books when i first took over this land, before our wedding, in expectation of your arrival."
that makes you pause. "you prepared for my arrival three years ago?"
it's like the temperature in the room drops, the way his mouth slips into a frown and his fingers tighten on the edge of the table. his tone is dark, controlled, when he finally speaks. "i had expected your arrival to be straight after the wedding. but i received word after a few months on the expedition from my head of staff, telling me that you had not come."
when you say nothing, perhaps because you are too busy trying to catching up with his thoughts, he continues, each word sounding angrier than the last. "i thought something had happened, that you had been attacked on the road. i later discovered that you had not even left zenin castle."
you look at him, eyes filling with tears. "some places are not so easy to leave. you don't understand..."
he reaches out a hand as though to grab yours, but it freezes halfway across the table. he curses, his hand falling back to his side before he stand, the chair scraping once against the stone in a sharp scuff. "don't cry. please."
you don't even watch him leave, you can't beat to. you hear the large doors open and close, so you finally bury your head in your hands and sob.
later that night, you curl under the sheets of the large bed in the bedchamber. it had been hours since dinner, and the only sight you'd caught of choso was from the window of library which you had finally discovered after many wrong turns. he had been in the courtyard, look deep in discussion with some merchants and tradespeople. you'd gone back to your book after a while, before your attention was once again diverted out the window by the metallic scrapes and clangs of swords.
your eyes had fallen on your husband at once. he'd forgone his tunic and cloak, now sparring in nothing but his trousers and boots. his tied hairstyle from earlier had fallen loose around his shoulders, and the way he swung his sword towards his opponent was calculated, hair-raising.
the view wasn't entirely clear from several windows up, but your imagination filled in the rest. sweat was most definitely gathering at his neck, dripping down those hardened muscles of his back. between each sword swing, he was most certainly grunting, making all kinds of gruff noises, maybe the same noises he'd made on your wedding night-
before your thoughts could make your core throb even more, you had sprinted for your bedchamber and called the maids to ready you for bed.
so you lie in nothing but your thin, spring nightgown, hair loose and spread over your pillow, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would distract you from the growing ache between your legs. but eventually, your hand trails down and slips under the your nightgown, fingers carefully running along your slick folds. you throw your head back onto the pillow, letting out a delighted gasp. your mind flits through memories of passages you'd read in books, where a prince gathers his princess into his arms and kisses her in unbridled passion. but no matter how many times you try to concentrate on those images, the sight of choso and his rippling muscles, the faint memories of how he'd looked the night of the wedding keep pushing through.
your peak edges up quickly, wetness pooling on the feather-stuffed mattress below.
the door slowly creaks open, and you scramble to pull your fingers from your wet heat, heart slamming against your ribs. it doesn't stop upon seeing who it is.
choso steps into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. his shirt is still off, but it looks as though he's washed. he silently makes his way into the bedchamber, running a hand through his hair and sitting on the opposite side of the bed.
you hold your breath, eyes squeezing shut in prayer that he'd assume you were asleep. in your pleasured haze, you'd entirely forgotten he'd be joining you in bed.
each sound he makes seems amplified in the silent room. the barely-there grunt as he pulls off his heavy boots, the noise they make as they hit the floor, and the soft click of buttons as he removes his trousers...
a shaky breath escapes your lips when your hear the material drop to the floor. the mattress dips even further behind you as he lies down. you can't exactly tell how close he is, and don't want to risk a peek.
what felt like hours passed, the two of you refusing to acknowledge each other. was he also pretending to be asleep? how dare he! you're in the middle of debating whether to to bravely shift and turn over, when you feel the lightest touch of your hair on the pillow. you think nothing of it at first, believing it to have simply moved on its own.
but a second touch comes. then a third. by the fifth time, you realise it's choso.
his finger runs down the length of of the locks of hair resting on your pillow, over and over. he picks it up in his hand at one point, softly twisting it between his fingers.
the feeling lulls you to into a dreamless sleep.
you don't see choso much over the next two weeks. he's either training with the rest of the knights, meeting in the council room with merchants, or heading out beyond the protective walls of the castle and town to oversee a new road being built from the port. they say it will make redfall the most prosperous location in this part of the continent, a new hub for trade and commerce.
to prevent yourself from becoming a ghost in yet another castle, you put yourself to work. you pore over the redfall accounts- there was money coming in from trading within the town and miles away at the port, which gave kamo castle a substantial number of coffers. but the further you read, the more mind-boggling the amounts of money grew. it grew into a number you didn't even know how to say in words.
it must be all the gold choso recovered from the dragon's lair, you realised. and not just gold- diamonds, rubies, mother-of pearl, priceless heirlooms and artifacts... choso had more riches than the king himself.
during your evening meal, you'd asked what was to be done with the money. he'd looked you in the eyes, and told you it was yours to do with as you pleased. you'd suggested decorating the castle, perhaps getting new window panes, and adding some paintings to the hallways. he's stared at you for a few moments after you'd spoken (something you had gotten used to), before nodding and telling you that the money was yours as much as his, and to do whatever you wished.
you arranged meetings with travelling merchants, who quoted you prices for new, double-paned glass to be fitted on all the windows of the castle. you'd worried about the cost he'd quoted, but upon tallying the numbers against the castle accounts, turns out it would hardly make the smallest of dents.
another few weeks pass, and the hallways are now properly lit with new chandeliers, lined with deep crimson curtains and the occasional vase of flowers perched in front of brand new windows. you feel a strong sense of pride when you walk through them now, as the castle feels more like a home with every passing day. it was a fine distraction.
one afternoon, you decide that you've spent far too much time inside the walls of the castle, and decide to go for a stroll to inspect the gardens. you'd learned that the castle gardener tried his best to maintain it, but was growing old and could not manage the sprawling grounds all by himself. spring was coming to an end, and summer was breaking through the remaining wispy clouds. now was the perfect time to plant seeds.
you step out into the sunshine that beat down on redfall, the noise of swords clanging reaching your ears, which sounded far mort rhythmic and timed than usual. you look to the training grounds, to see choso stalking his way around a band of young squires, who were practicing their swordsmanship. choso barks out orders to fix their sword arms, to hold them properly, keep their backs straight.
you watch him as you descend the stone steps into the courtyard, your eyes burning into his back. he stiffens suddenly, and turns, his eyes meeting yours.
"my lady! i have not seen you since our long journey here." a cheery voice comes from behind, and you spin to meet with one of choso's death painting knights, the one who had kindly offered you water on the journey from zenin castle to redfall.
you smile, nodding in recognition. "of course, i apologise. i have been stuck inside quite a lot with the redecoration efforts," you realise it does not sound very exciting or meaningful when you tell it to a battle-worn knight who had fought against lethal monsters. "i'm heading over to the gardens, now. i haven't yet seen them. but first, i must actually find them." you joke.
the knight's eyes light up, offering out his arm. "would my lady care for me to guide her? they're just through-"
"step away from my wife."
a shadow casts over you and the knight, who jumps away from you as though scalded. "yes, lord commander!" he stammers, his body practically bending in half as he bows towards you and the shadow you now know is your husband, before walking rather quickly away from the scene, not once daring to look back.
you wheel around to him, already frowning. "what?" you snap, arms folding across your chest as your frustration with this annoying man spills over. "he was only giving me directions!"
his eyes dart around, as though he doesn't want to look you at you. "he was standing far too close," he says gruffly after a moment, folding his arms in mimicry of you. "it wasn't... respectable."
you snort, wondering if he'd find that respectable or not. "i just wanted to see the gardens." you tell him, glumly.
his brows furrow. "this is the first time you've come out into courtyard."
you look up at him. "how do you know that?"
you swear the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink, and he actually stammers. "i, er- you've been preoccupied with castle renovations. you've been taking on too much."
anger swells in you at his words. "after your insinuation!" you hiss incredulously, before gathering your skirts and stalking off in the direction you think the gardens are.
his long legs catch up to you in no time, and his gloveless hand closes around your upper arm. you assumed you'd forget how big his hands are, but no. his fingers clasp, the warmth seeping into your skin through your sleeve. it makes your heart hurt. why did he have to be soft in secret? you yearned for him to take your hand and kiss you. he did not have to love you. you could pretend, and just maybe, it would be enough for you.
both of your gazes drop down to his hand on you, and he pulls it away as though burned. "that wasn't my intention, i didn't mean-"
"then what did you mean?" you pressed, your voice wavering despite your effort to steady it. âbecause you never seem to mean anything you say. or doâ
a flicker of something crosses his expressionâbrief, but there.
âyouâre misunderstandingââ
âno,â you cut in, shaking your head. âI donât believe I am." the distance between you is short, but you feel miles away from each other.
âyou avoid me,â you said, quieter now, but the words hit harder. âyou barely speak to me unless you have to. you leave before I wake. you wonât even stand near me unless you have to.â
chosoâs jaw tightens, and he starts with a, "that's not-", but you're quick to cut him off. you decide to be brave and face it.
âdo you hate me that much?â
the question lands like a blow, and silence follows it. for the first time ever, choso looked⌠caught off guard. you're aware that although your voices aren't raised, the two of you have caught the attention of the various mix of people in the courtyard. the squires have paused their training to stare gormlessly, and a few stable hands sneak the odd peek. even a few kitchen maids washing clothes at the well are listening in, but are thankfully being rather subtle about it.
ââŚwhat?â his voice drops much lower now. dangerous in a way you hadnât heard before. not angry, but something deeper and strained.
âyou heard me,â you challenge, despite the tightness in your throat. âif this marriage is such a burden, you donât have to pretend otherwise. i know you regret this marriage-â
"stop.â
the hand that had touches your arm a few moments ago was clenched at his side, his fingernails digging crescents into the roughened skin of his palm.
ââŚyou think i regret it?â he exhales roughly, his tone sharp. âyou think thatâs what this is?â
your heart stutters in your chest, mouth opening and closing when no sound comes out. he presses on, and you catch a slight tremble in his words.
"do you have any idea,â he said quietly, âhow difficult it is to stand near you and notââ his jaw clenches, hard. his normally hazel-brown eyes are blackened, and unsteady in a way you have only seen once before.
that day in the bath.
ââŚnot what?â you whispered.
his eyes lift to yours again. but he still doesn't give you an answer, an explanation of why. the moment stretches into something fragile, ready to break. his eyes glance away for a brief moment, eyes falling on the conversing knights who are too close and could eavesdrop.
you step back, shaking your head. âi donât want distance,â you mutter, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it. ânor do i care about hundreds of dresses, or a big castle, or gardens,â
your fingers curl slightly at your sides, wrinkling into the fabric there.
âi just want my husband.â
choso stills completely, and for a moment you think he hasn't understood you at all. his gaze flickers over your face, searching, with something akin to disbelief in his expression.
ââŚyour husband?â he repeats, quietly. he sounds so... uncertain. a strange expression crosses his face when you nod.
his hand reaches out again, and you realise he's reaching for you. your heart leaps, towards hope and something brand new. then his hand stops. hesitation. again.
your feet are moving before you can stop them, focusing on getting somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here. your eyes sting as you run, blurring as they land on an open, iron-wrought gate along the wall. you dive in, now amongst winding vines and towering, flowering bushes.
you come to a heaving stop at the large tree, in the furthest corner. its feathery, trailing leaves fall around you in a sweeping curtain, brushing against the damp grass. it shields you.
you're not sure how long you sit there for. all you know is it was long enough for the maids to come searching for you, to help you to your feet. they guide you up the stairs into your shared bedchamber with choso. they dress you into your nightgown and usher you to bed. you feel like a helpless child. even so, your eyes can't help but glance over to his side of the bed. untouched.
"his lordship has went out riding," remi tells you, fluffing your pillow with a sympathetic look in her eye. "we were all surprised- he just stormed off, didn't even tell anyone he was going."
you nod silently, closing your eyes. you hear them leave, catching a snippet of a whisper, "i wish he'd just tell her already. poor dear."
not sure if you want to know what that meant, you draw the covers over you and envelop yourself in the dark.
it's still dark when you wake. you sit up, tired and groggy.
the noise of the rain must have woken you up- it pelts against the curtained windows of your bedchamber. your eyes adjust to the dark slightly, and you notice the other side of the bed, where the sheets are still tucked. he never came to bed.
thunder rumbles directly above the castle, signalling the heavens to open when remi's words float back to you. his lordship went out riding.
a flash of lightning sends a shocking white light into the room from behind the curtains, and you're up. flying the bedchamber door open and sprinting down the halls. choso is out there, alone. you curse him as you descend the stairs, nightgown billowing at your heels. curse him for everything he's said and hasn't said.
you slip out of the towering castle doors, your nightgown instantly soaked to your bones within moments. there's another clap of thunder, and in the brief flash of lightning crashing into the nearby woods, you see him. at first, you convince yourself it was your imagination. a trick of the storm, perhaps, or of your own desperation.
tall and shrouded in the darkness, he makes his way toward the castle. then, he looks up, and stops at the sight of you. it's dark, cold and the rain lashes down, but that doesn't hide the fire burning in his eyes.
"you fool! come inside!" you shout, trying to hide your own stupidity of forgetting a cloak and shoes. the wet material of the nightdress clings to you like a second translucent skin.
your voice seems to finally stir him, and he cuts through the rain towards you. the sight makes you swallow, and you remember- this man has killed a dragon. he looks every bit the part of a killer, with his hulking frame, tired and dark eyes, and the healed slash across his nose.
he stops in front of you, a mere breath away. he's just as soaked as you are, with rain dripping down his face like crystalline tears. he's close. too close.
your eyes drop to the floor, waiting for him to simply brush uncaringly past you. but expression tells an entirely different story, and held something rawer that you'd ever seen before. rain relentlessly poured around you, but strangely, you didn't feel cold.
for a moment, he just looks at you. water drips from his long eyelashes, down his flushed cheeks, over the sharp arch of his cupid's bow... then his gaze moves slowly, agonisingly. from your face, down to where fabric clings to you, outlining the swell of your breasts, and the darker skin of your hardened nipples.
fire burning behind your cheeks, you stutter out, "you- you didn't come to bed. you left without telling anyone. i thought-" you stop yourself. he doesn't want to hear this, not from you.
âi needed to think,â he murmurs. his eyes finally meet yours again, and they're black.
curiosity gets the better of you. âabout what?â you ask.
his jaw flexed again. âabout you," he answers quickly and honestly, which takes you aback. "âyou said... that you wanted your husband.â
his eyes never leave yours. not once. "do you understand what that means?â
the question makes your pulse stutter. but all the same, you nod. "i think i do."
His gaze darkens slightly, and the distance between you almost disappears completely when he takes a step closer. he's not wearing his armour, and the soaked material of his black shirt brushes your chest. you shiver, but not from the cold.
"no,â he speaks quietly. his breath seems uneven, strained. âyou donât. i have spent weeks trying to keep my distance because i thought you didnât want me near you.â
his hand lifts once more, slowly, like he was giving you time to pull away. you don't and his fingers hover just at your waist, not quite touching. you can feel the heat seeping from them.
you can't quite believe what he's saying. all this time, had you been pushing away. but that was only because of how he'd treated you- pushing you away at every turn, rejecting your every effort to grow closer to him.
you shake your head, confused. "but.. i thought you hated me?" the question slips out before you can stop them. something in his eyes breaks, and his hand finally touches you. resting on your waist. an innocent touch, to the oblivious eye. but to you, there's a burning desire in his palm, and it's heating through your skin, right to your heart.
his voice shakes when he speaks again. "i thought my wife hated me, from the day of the wedding. you were forced into this marriage, it was all over your face that day. you looked so...disappointed." his face falls, his mind consumed in memories of that day, a long three years ago.
"it's true," you start, blinking through the rain. "i was disappointed. but i was disappointed for you. my father forced you to go on that expedition in his place, and your grand prize was marrying his second, unsatisfactory daughter? i felt like such a burden to you!"
his other hand comes to grip the other side of your waist both hands suddenly squeezing tight. "you- oh, god," he looks like a man who had discovered some kind of divine purpose, clinging on to you with his eyes blown wide. he looked demented. "i wanted to marry you! you were all i wanted, not the gold, not the sonnets nor the stupid fucking glory. you! i would have given every diamond in that dragon's hold to your father if it meant having you to all myself. i felt so greedy that day i kissed you on that altar, but it meant i had you, even if you didn't want me-"
he rambles like an absolute madman, drunk on the truth. anyone else listening would be thinking that lord choso kamo had gone insane.
he breathes heavily, lifting his hands from their grip on your waist to gently, oh so carefully, cup your jaw to tilt your face closer to his. "hate you? oh, wife, you consume me," he whispers shakily, eyes darting between your eyes to your lips. they're so full of desperation, as rainwater drips from his long, delicate eyelashes. or was that... tears?
your entire world has been jolted sideways, and not given you any time to breathe. your whole body trembles, but not from the chill of the downpour. something different, and something you had never felt before this moment,
"say it again," he murmurs.
it catches you by surprise, breath hitching. "w-what?"
"what you said earlier. in the courtyard. please." he pleads, and you attempt to gather your scattered thoughts to think back to the argument, which felt like so long ago now. it all made sense, the argument, and every moment before it since the wedding. every one of his dismissive words, his attempts to give you an easy life without him being in it, providing for you, and him finding those moments believing you were asleep to finally touch you, even if it had been simple strokes of your hair.
the courtyard feels small around you both. you can feel him, and only him. you want to live in this feeling, forever.
you lean into his large, dripping hands letting yourself fall into him. "i want my husband."
your first and only kiss had been with choso, on your wedding day. it had been quick, polite and decent.
when he gives you your second kiss, it's unrestrained. years of distance, misunderstanding and pure want, tightly pressed into a moment where neither of you wanted to hold back anymore.
your lips move frantically together, trying to find a rhythm. his mouth is clumsy against yours, and you're not much different. your hands curl into the fabric of his soaked shirt, breath slipping from your lungs. it's hot, wet, and you want more.
when you pull away, his pupils are blown wide. a string of spit connects your lips together, and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling you back into his lips. the plummeting rain continued to soak you both through, but you didn't care- and by the feeling of desperation in his mouth against yours, neither did choso.
his hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you into him completely. your own hands move upwards, up the front of his tunic to brace against the hardness of his chest. all you could feel was him. his warmth, his hands, the steady way in which he cradles you tightly to him. his body stiffens, even his lips faltered, as a soft groan leaves him. when he pulls away a second time, it feels purposeful.
you both breathe raggedly, as his forehead brushes yours for the briefest, gentlest moment before his grip shifts. one thick arm slides securely around your back, the other moves beneath your knees.
you barely have time to react before he lifts you into his arms, the same way a groom carries his bride down the steps of the church. except you are not in a church. you are in your home, one that you shared with him.
a small gasp excapes you, instinctively reaching for him as the ground disappears beneath your feet.
"wait- choso!" but he doesn't stop. he pushes one of the heavy double doors of the castle open with a strong shoulder. you notice how carefully he does it, so that the noise does not wake the sleeping servants.
water drips in a telltale trail across the polished flagstones of the entry hall as he walks with you in his arms. he looks forward, his strides wrought with purpose and a need to take you to wherever he wished. unable to stop yourself, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the scar across his nose.
he stops in his tracks on the staircase, his eyes finally falling to you in his arms. "you're making this very difficult."
you blink. "i am?"
he grimaces. "yes," he replies, his voice a low growl. "i'm trying to hold back from taking you right here on these steps."
heat rushes to your core at the picture he paints with his filthy words. you remember what he did on your wedding night, with his fingers, and then his...
with a clench of his jaw, he sets back on walking up the stairs to the winding hallways. the new chandeliers sparkle warmly above you both, contrasting to the rain pelting at the recently renovated windows. what had seemed so important a mere few days ago, felt entirely insignificant now that you were finally in your husband's arms.
he slips you both through the doors of your shared bedchamber, and wastes no time in setting you on the bed. his movements are restrained, stiff, and you think back to his words before. he's holding back.
but rather than settle on the bed with you, he takes a step back from the bed... and kneels on the floor, right where you sit up against the pillow. his pupils are blown wide as he looks at you, his face flushed. you had only seen him like this once before, three years ago.
"choso? you whisper.
his head drops, forehead resting on the edge of the bed. he looks like a devout worshipper, kneeling before his god and pleading for intervention.
a shuddering breath shakes his shoulders, but his face is concealed, hanging low. "i only hope that you forgive me, my love," he speaks softly. he lifts his face to look at you, eyes shimmering in the firelight. "these past three years, i have thought of nothing but you. and i want you to know that it was all for you."
"choso... i realise now," you reach out a hand, and run your fingers through his loose hair, just as he has done for many nights to you. his body quakes at your touch. "i hope you can forgive me, also. i have not been a dutiful wife. i did not come to kamo castle after we married. i did not think you would want me there, and nor did my father, because... i failed to give you a child. i am so sorry." remorse crawls back you, for something you though you had buried a long time ago. you did not know choso then, and he had gone before you had gotten the chance to. you had been left with nothing of him. perhaps a small babe, with his dark hair and light brown eyes would have made his absence feel less lonely.
choso is suddenly on his feet. his chest heaves as he looks down at you, and in one fluid motion, pulls off his shirt. your eyes shamelessly trail over his thick torso, the various pale scars across his sinewy arms, and the trail of dark hair peeking from the waist of his breeches...
he crawls onto the bed, kneeling at your feet just as he had done that night many moons ago. except this time, you feel a connection that had not been there before. a heart-racing concoction of heat and nervousness builds in your body, but one thing is obvious in your mind- you want, no, need him to just touch you. he could be gentle, or rough, and you wouldn't mind either way.
both of his hands, large and calloused from years of wielding a greatsword, grasp at your ankles when he speaks, low and angrily.
"your father made you feel this way? shamed you for not being with my child?" his fingers which lock around your ankles grow tighter.
you nod mounfully, those horrible words your father had thrown at you now being repeated for choso. "he said that... if i couldn't give you an heir, you would have no reason to keep me."
for a moment, choso stares at you. you wonder if he even heard you. you shake your head, trying to brush it off. "it's alright, it doesn't matter any more."
in half a moment, his body is on top of yours, his hands now splayed on either side of your head on the downy pillow. "''doesn't matter'?" he echoes. his voice has taken on a more hollow, tortured note. you look up at him, and find his eyes are filled with tears. your husband cries for you, for a moment he never experienced. he had left, to fight a dragon. but you had stayed. "that's why you thought i didn't want you."
your heart clenches at how pained he sounds, upon his realisation. three years of silence, of longing but wanting better for each other has caught up to you both.
his hands come to cup your cheeks, and despite the callouses and scars littering them, he's so soft. his voice is a whisper in your ear. "i went to kill the dragon in your father's place. because i knew that if he had went, the fucking coward he is, he would have failed. and it would have meant a land too unsafe for you to live in,"
his honesty fills in all the lonely gaps, all the spaces in your mind where doubt no longer remained. you listen, finding overwhelming comfort in the way his body feels on top of yours again. it's no longer something scary, but something intimate that belonged only to you.
he continues, his thumb stroking along your cheek. "i had to make it safe. i had to be enough. i made myself lord of redfall, so i was no longer some lowborn mercenary turned knight and be a just a little more worthy of you, before making my marriage offer for you to him," he spits the word out, not caring to even speak your father's name, "i wanted to give you everything. a beautiful castle in a rich land, cover you in expensive dresses and cloaks and jewels. i wanted you to be happy."
unable to contain yourself, you fling your arms around his neck pulling him close. he looks startled at first, but adjusts quickly, careful not to put too much weight on you. you shake your head wildly at his words, determined for him to now know your truth.
"i don't want jewels, or hundreds of dresses, choso!" you protest fervently, eyes blurring and stinging. "i have only ever wanted you. and i wanted you to want me back. can't you see? i love you!"
his lips collide with yours, hands carding through your hair as he kisses you breathless.
"you kept me sane," he mumbles against your lips. the two of you only have your unifying wedding kiss and the several shared on the wet steps outside as practice, so it's messy. teeth clash, spit combines, and his tongue prods at yours. "every day on that dragon campaign. you kept me alive."
his hands fall from your wet hair, and slip the shoulder of your sopping nightgown down to expose skin. you mourn the loss of his lips, but they feel even better attached to your neck, sucking and nipping at every part he could reach. you moan softly, which only eggs him on. his hair drips onto your skin- a droplet hits your cheek, but you don't wipe it away. it's cool, against the fiery heat that spreads from where his lips now move further down.
he kisses the hardened buds at the peak of your breasts through your practically see-through nightgown. his eyes flit to yours, just as his hands have reached the hem of your nightgown, tangled between your thighs. they search for any contour of hesitation in yours. there is none to find.
he peels the wet material from your body, revealing it to him inch by inch until it passes your head and you're utterly bare beneath him. his eyes rake over you, one hand resting on your hip and the other brushing over your nipple.
"choso?" you breathe, which seems to pull him out of whatever thought he'd gotten lost in.
his shoulders, which had been so stiff with anticipation, visibly relax. "i'm sorry. it's been three years since i've seen this sight," he whispers. his lips reattach to your breasts, mouthing at the skin. his tongue flicks at your nipple, and you gasp, burying your fingers in his hair. "i made sure to remember it well, though. the knights probably thought i was looking up at the stars, when we'd sleep out in the open in the fields and valleys. but i was picturing these," he gives a particularly loud suck on the taut, sensitive skin, which mortifies you but only seems to comfort him. "i never got to touch them that day. never got to properly feel you. but fuck, i'd imagine it."
a sticky wetness pools between your thighs, as you imagine him in his tent on the campaign. in this picture, his hand is wrapped around his length, furiously working it over and over. all whilst thinking of you.
"choso, i need you!" you whimper, looking down at where his head rests on your chest. he smiles.
"i would kill that dragon again if i got to hear you say that again." he muses, but you shake your head in an indignant panic.
"no, don't you dare! the thought of another three years-" he quietens you with a soft, hushing kiss. almost innocent, if it weren't for his finger dipping inside you.
your moans grow louder, less breathy, as he moves the digit back and forth, back and forth. you reach for his free hand, bringing it up to your lips and holding it there as a brace for the overwhelming pleasure from his touch. he adds another finger, and you bite. right into the veiny stretch of skin where his thumb connects to his index. he whimpers, you immediately pull away, worried that you may have hurt him.
his fingers never stop their curling and delving inside, even as he speaks though another choked groan, "do that again."
you oblige. biting, then soothing with kisses and licks. a wife serves her husband, you think to yourself, running a long stripe to suck on the tip of his thumb.
when choso's fingers pull from their place inside, and are momentarily replaced by his tongue, you discover exactly how a husband serves his wife.
your thighs press tightly into his head, and his hands move to hold them in pace- spread, so his tongue can freely explore your wet heat. the noises it makes against it are obscene, slurping and sloshing, but it's nothing compared to the ones leaving choso's mouth.
each groan, each whine, sends new jolts of need shooting through you. your own sounds join his, more with every flick of his tongue over a bundle of nerves nestles in your drenched folds.
"choso, i'm going- i need-!" a coil of white-hot heat twists and throbs where his mouth is practically consuming you. it's like he was eating some forbidden fruit, and not-
"your cunt tastes perfect," he groans against it, eyes darting up to your flushed and panting face. "let go, beloved. want to feel it against my face."
your release crashes over, wave after wave of pleasure coming and showing no signs of ebbing. it feels beautiful, and you want more.
he takes a few more moments with you, to the point where there's tears in your eyes and you're pushing his head away with trembling hands. your wetness coats his lips and his chin, his hair is mussed from your wandering fingers, and there's a feral glint in his eyes. he looks like a wild animal.
he sees the way your eyes drop to the bulge in his trousers, and he pulls apart the buttons at his waist. he yanks them off his body, leaving him as naked as you. his cock, now freed, is hard and furious-looking. it leaks, the clear droplets dribbling down the tip along the long, thick shaft. trimmed, tufty brown hair gathers at the base, snaking up a section of his navel.
you want it inside you again. you need it.
his body hovers over yours again, and you feel it prod at the inside of your thigh. you shiver, and your cunt clenches with it, longing to be filled.
his hand strokes through your hair, as he presses his forehead to yours. your nose brushes the scar slashed across his nose, and you nuzzle into it.
"are you sure, my love?" he whispers into your hair. "i know you were scared last time, and i promise i'll make this perfect for you, i just-"
you quieten his rambles with a kiss, which he simply melts into.
"need you, choso. needed you for a long, long time." you admit, feeling the way his cock jolts at your voice and taking a wholly selfish pride in it. you want to make up for every missed moment, every small touch that could have been more.
"i need you," he whispers in echo, his hips shifting until the tip presses into you, slowly and carefully. "i need you, i need you, i need you..."
he trails off into a breathy moan when he starts pushing in, your inner walls clamping down and trying to keep him there. your fingernails rake his back with every inch that floods you, whispering his name in tandem with his desperate chant.
once he's sheathed, the two of you settle quietly. no noise, just held breaths and the feeling of his skin on yours. until you give an involuntary squeeze.
choso's hand fists the pillow beside your head. his teeth are clenched, body taut with tension.
"god, you feel even better than i remember. if you do that again, i'll..." he resorts to breathing into your neck, smelling the remnants of rain and the trickles of sweat, and perhaps a whiff of your perfume. it appears to calm him, his body relaxing into you. his cock remains hard inside you. you can feel it throb.
you think back to the wedding night, and the way he'd spilled his release inside you. it was an act of claiming, a mark of ownership that meant you were his. his wife, and one day, the mother of his children.
he begins to move once you're adjusted. his hips pull away, almost unsheathing himself before pushing back in again. he's not fast, nor slow. just steady, in a way that makes your toes curl.
"choso... you feel incredible..."
he huffs a laugh in your ear. you think that if you heard that again, you'd come. "yeah? fuck, i love this, love being inside my wife," he growls, his thrusts grow faster, harder. "m' gonna keep you in this bed for a week now. have you full of me... all the time."
if it meant you could always feel this way, and feel him, you had no qualms with his proposal.
his hips slice between your legs, his cock delving into your tight heat, which felt like it grew thicker with every thrust. you whine and mewl in his ears, arms curled around his neck as he smothers your face in hot kisses. spit leaks from the corners of your mouths when you kiss, from the way your tongues slide against each other's.
"you have everything, every part of me," he pants against your lips. you wail softly at the loss of his lips, but he shushes you gently. "i know what you said earlier, but i will give you everything i have not given. you need only name it."
your walls clench desperately around him, as you try to speak over the sound of slapping skin and through your own breathlessness. "i want- god- i want-"
"yes- yes, my love, what do you want? i'll give it, fuck, i'll give it all to you."
your face flushes, daring yourself to speak. the words fumble out of you. "i want... i want a baby, choso."
his hips still completely, making you whine in protest at the loss of friction. he'd turned you into a lovemaking fool. sweat beads at his forehead, and he cradles your face in his hands.
"w-what did you say, my wife?" the look in his eyes is wild, and he hangs off your every syllable.
"i didn't get to give you one before," you say shyly, and your eyes make the mistake of darting down, catching on the way his cock is halfway inside and halfway out, slick dripping from the trimmed hair at his base. you swallow, every fibre in your body crying for release and his. "i want to give you everything, too."
you fear you've broken him. his body is tensed everywhere, and his head hangs between the valley of your breasts. when he looks up, his expression has taken on a determined, fierce look. it stirs some primal feeling in you, like suddenly he's become that dragon he hunted, and you're his sparkling horde of treasure, glimmering in pricelessness.
he doesn't give any type his warning before his cock plunges the rest of the way in, back to pistoning inside you and knocking the breath from your lungs as you scrabble to take hold of him.
he pants against your skin, breath steaming and hot. he really was a dragon. "it was you, only you that got me through it all," he growls. "one night, in the mountains, freezing to death. i thought of my wife," your cunt clenches at that, and he whines. his cock pounds into you, and you think his words are the only thing keeping you from going delirious with each stroke. "even if you hated me, just the thought of- fuck!- being near you was enough. and now? my beautiful wife tells me she wants me to put a baby in her belly?"
his kisses are messy, but you meet him halfway with every single one. with each movement, you feel yourself become more tangled in him, as the coiling knot inside you tightens, tightens, and snaps.
your thighs clench around his waist, in a fruitful attempt to slow him down as an incredible, mind-numbing pleasure tears through your insides and clouds every thought in your mind.
"cho- choso-!"
his name from your lips, and the throbbing clench of your walls around his thick length, are enough to make him slam his cock inside, reaching a new depth as he spills everything he has to give inside you. he chokes on air, teeth attaching to your neck in a claiming bite. you feel his warm release coat your insides, and which each throb of it inside you, he begs, "please, please, i love you, i love you," into your ear.
the white-hot pleasure ebbs, leaving a warm contentment to settle in your still-joined bodies. choso gives a groan, leaning to his side and bringing you to nestle into him.
"i love you." you murmur. you feel his cock twitch inside you, amongst the mess he's plugging up.
choso blinks slowly at you, eyes searching your face with the softest of smiles. "i'll never tire of hearing that," he answers. "i have you. finally."
you press a kiss to his lips, all blushing and soft smiles between you. "you always have."
its with that he pushes you gently onto your back once again, thrusting inside with a clement gentleness. whispering sighs fill the bedroom once more, and you smile into the skin of his shoulder.
husband and wife, at last.
a/n: the more i wrote of this the more i want to do some mini bonus chapters bc knight!choso has consumed my brain. anyway hope u enjoyed!
the thing that i adore the most about project hail mary is the fact that, after travelling god knows how far, saving multiple worlds, and living on an alien planet, grace ends the film not as some big hero, but as a teacher
its just so nice that the film sits there and says âryland graces job as a teacher is importantâ, because its very common in these kinda films that the protagonist starts off as a teacher purely to give a bit of exposition before the government person shows up and goes âyoure the best (insert science here)ist in the world, and we need your help to save the worldâ or whatever, and i assumed at first that thats what this film was doing as well
but its not
grace starts the film as a teacher, he goes through the film as a teacher, and he ends the film as a teacher. he is a teacher to his students. he is a teacher to the astronauts. he is a teacher to rocky. and at the end of it all, he is a teacher to his students.
ryland grace saves both worlds not because he is some big hero, but because he is a teacher. and his reward at the end of it all is that he gets to keep teaching. and isnt that beautiful
you are the youngest daughter of house zenin. yet another daughter, yet another disappointment to your noble family. hidden away, neglected, until one day your father strikes a marriage match between you and a low-born knight named choso kamo.
choso leaves rather unceremoniously the morning after your disastrous wedding night, and returns years later as a lord cloaked in golden glory, having defeated a deadly dragon. you soon find yourself swept away to his faraway castle, in very close quarters with the stranger you call husband who you're convinced hates you. until one day you realise, it's actually quite the opposite.
âď¸ content âď¸
(18+) choso kamo x f!reader, medieval fantasy au, inspired by UtOT by suji kim, arranged marriage, naoya mention, a LOT of misunderstanding, lack of communication, reader is kinda innocent, dubious consent (bedding ceremony), smut, BREEDING KINK, mentions of pregnancy and children, both are virgins at the beginning, no use of y/n, p-in-v, whiny softdom!choso, biting, swearing, oral (fem receiving), fingering
word count: 14k
I finally started reading the novels for Under the Oak Tree by Suji Kim, which has heavily inspired this fic! If you haven't read it, please check it out as well as the webtoon, especially if you're a fan of medieval fantasy (and the sexy piece of meat Riftan Calypse who inspired Choso in this). this shit is LONGGGG. I definitely didn't cover all the parts of their relationship as i wanted, but I was thinking about making some bonus chapters? anyway enjoy!!!
"i now pronounce you man and wife."
the archbishop's voice echoed off the walls of the church hall, carried by the stone statues lining the towering walls and stained glass windows. in that moment, he was executioner. your family were your judge and jury.
they stand within the first few pews, and although your back is turned to them, you can feel their mocking stares burning through the white lace of your wedding dress. your father was pleased, now that his youngest daughter was finally out of his hands. your older sister's hand was promised to the prince of these lands. your hand was now enclosed in one belonging to a lowborn knight, recently turned lord. a knight who was leaving tomorrow on a arduous journey across the continent, to complete an impossible expedition. to slay a dragon.
choso kamo was this knight , who's hand now held yours in a light grip. he'd been given two duties- kill the dragon, and marry you. you guessed he decided to get the easiest task out of the way.
choso kamo was by no means a bad man, from what you'd learned eavesdropping on the servants. he didn't seem cruel, but you kept your guard up. no one was ever privy to the actions of cruel men, even those closest to them. those that did, would chose to willfully ignore it. he was tall, with a head of dark-brown hair which appeared black at first glance. his eyes were much lighter, but held a myriad of thoughts behind them. would you ever figure out what they were?
he turns to face you at the archbishop's final command. whatever emotion he is feeling, he does not show it. did he feel disappointment, anger, disgust at the sight of you? this unknown woman, a daughter of a conceited duke, who never showed her face outside the castle walls. you knew why your father had married you to him. he did too.
he leans down, and presses a quick kiss to your lips. you barely even feel it, a quick brush of blushed skin and the union of two strangers is now complete. almost.
the feast follows. hundreds of noble and knightly strangers dine at the the stretching mahogany tables, smashing goblets together and chortling whenever the sweet wine spilled. they have fun in your's and choso's name.
he sits silently beside you, his food as untouched as yours. you don't even think he's taken a sip of wine. you feel as though you should say something, but his personality seems just as impenetrable as his armour.
people dance, people drink, people laugh. you couldn't lie- this is what you thought weddings looked like. n all the books you'd read, the stories of beautiful princesses marrying their true love, the wedding had been a celebration and everyone had their happily every after. you did not feel very happy.
the unhappiness quickly morphed into fear and the revolting feeling of bile rising in your throat when they announced the bedding ceremony.
humiliated, choso takes you dutifully by the hand and leads you from the hall. you walk through the crowd of jeering guests and giggling family members. your cousin naoya chuckles. you don't even look your father in the eye. you don't have to, you know he's pleased with himself.
the walk through the halls towards the bedroom for your bedding ceremony is silent, but the way your heart pounds in your chest it's as though someone is playing a drum. you don't know much about what you're supposed to do, other than lying down and 'letting him do as he must', which were the only words your governess had hissed in your ear, in response to your concerns of the wedding night. it was not something to be enjoyed by you.
choso holds the door open, letting you slip quietly inside like a mouse. you stare at the freshly made bed, and shudder when you hear the door close.
"take off your dress."
shakingly, you are about to obey. but your hands come to a stop.
"i- i can't."
you can't even look at him. he's somewhere behind you, perhaps still by the door. "why not?"
you hang your head, shame crawling through your skin at the feeling of his eyes on you. "the buttons are on the back- i can't reach." you want to crawl behind something big, hide away and cry. was this marriage? being commanded strip your clothing off, and be defiled by a man who had hardly looked at you the entire day?
your body jolts at the feeling of his fingers brushing your neck. he casts your hair over your shoulder, and begins unbuttoning the complicated back of your pure-white bodice, one small snap at a time. your arms feel heavy and useless at your sides, and finally your bodice comes loose. you now stand in your equally white bodice, which the maids had trussed you into in the early hours of the morning. it clung to your upper figure, and flowed loose at the waist. it was much shorter than the usual chemises you wore. the maids told you it was special.
you completely miss the way choso's breath hitches, over the roaring in your ears.
his fingers once again pull at the ribbons at your back, much rougher this time. your body shifts with each drag of a loosened ribbon, until the chemise drops to the floor and you're bare.
you want to die. to disappear into nothingness, far aware where your shame and embarrassment can never find you again. goosebumps prickle along your skin, and you don't dare turn around.
his next command comes out much quieter. "lie down on the bed."
shivering despite the roaring flames in the fireplace, you slowly walk over to the bed and lie on your back. you can see him out of the corner of your eyes, dark and intimidating, but you refuse to look. you stare up at the canopy of the bed, listening to the shuffle of clothing being removed.
the bed dips at your feet, and only then do you finally look.
this stranger you call husband, kneels on the bed in front of you, naked just as you are. you'd never expected a man's body could look like that. your knowledge extended as far as the scientific books you'd uncovered in a dusty corner of the library, which contained detailed illustrations of the human body. you remember slamming the book shut at the sight of the drawing of the naked male figure, positively mortified, before shoving it back onto its shelf. the drawing was woefully inaccurate in several areas, you realise.
choso's upper body is pure, sculpted muscle. had years of wielding a heavy sword in battle done that? his body was defined and heavy, with arms as wide as your head. then your eyes drop down, on pure instinct.
between his thick, bulging thighs, stood his... manhood. you'd overheard the maids whispering about their husband's once or twice. you were never really sure of what they were meant to do.
it slaps against the muscles of his abdomen, and something clear leaks from the flushed red tip. your body feels as hot as it looks. just what exactly had to be done with it?
he's staring again, and says in a low, monotonous voice, "spread your legs."
oh. so that's where it's meant to go.
that delicate cavern between your thighs, which you had been told to never touch. it was sacred, and only your future husband was permitted to see it. a delicate flower, they said.
your knees feel like they've been cemented together when you shakily part them. choso's eyes fall to it, and you see his length twitch. did he not like the look of it?
the bed creaks slightly as he shifts his weight towards you. his eyes are no longer on yours, now focused on his hand which trails along the sheets to your entrance.
"i'm going to touch you now," he states, before quickly adding "to get you ready."
your brows furrow at his words. "what are you- oh!"
your hand clamps over your mouth to stop any more noises like that from spilling out again.
his callused fingers probe at your entrance, gathering a strange wetness that had begun to pool there. then, he pushes one inside, and you have to bite down a scream.
it feels strange. a part of his body was entering you, over and over slowly. a part that you assumed was not even supposed to go inside. the strange feeling doesn't vanish, but changes a little bit with each passing movement. it makes the soft walls of your insides throb in response, and your head grows dizzy.
your fingers scrabble at his hand, trying to pull his fingers from you. "n-no, stop, it feels strange!" you wail. when his fingers continue their movements, you attempt to drag your body further up the bed. but he's quick.
his other large hand, the one that doesn't have its fingers delving inside your body, grips your waist and forces your hips onto the bed. your squirm, but his hold is strong. you'd never escape from it.
"stop moving. i have to ready you."
you whimper, now knowing what that implies.
a few moments later, or perhaps minutes, he pulls his fingers from you. they glisten with slick, and he spends some time staring intently at the mess.
he wraps his wet fingers around himself, moving them up and down the taut, veined skin. you can only watch as he throws his head back, a guttural groan descending from his mouth upon your ears.
he presses it against the wet opening between your legs.
"you're shaking." he says quietly, the two of you refusing to meet each others eyes.
your eyes squeeze shut at the intrusion. this is my duty, you tell yourself. i am his wife. it is our duty.
"please, just be quick." you plead, fingers fisting into the sheets and head buried sideways into a pillow. it had to be done. the marriage was not legal without it.
he stops for a moment, now looking directly at you. you can feel the weight of his stare, the heaviness of his hands on your hips, and the prodding of his length.
then, he pushes in. it takes everything you have not to scream.
it's slow, painful, and embarrassing. the wetness which he'd drawn from you earlier helps with his entrance into you, but there's still a burning stretch. but a part of you is glad he's being slow and steady.
you pant at the stretching feeling of him pushing in against your inner walls. "is... is it in yet?" you wince.
"halfway." he grunts.
you start to panic. your body already feels full to the brim, and there's still more to fit inside? You risk a peek down to where you're both joined, and learn that he is telling the truth.
when he's finally at his hilt, his entire body covers yours. he's massive, looming over you and casting a shadow from his sheer size. your body burns, and you blame the heat of the fire and the burn of him. his body feels like a stoked furnace, just from the proximity of his skin near yours.
his hips move, pulling himself halfway out and pushing back in. you whimper at the returning stretch, but it's not as painful this time. he does it again. and again. until suddenly, it doesn't hurt any more. another feeling replaces the pain. you have to bite your lip to hold in a needy-sounding gasp. lie down, and let him do as he must. this wasn't something for you to enjoy.
his pace grows faster, until the room is filled with the lewd sound of skin against skin. his body leans down, his chest nearly bumping against your chin, but his touch doesn't go any further than his hands on your waist, which he angles up slightly. his cheeks are flushed, his eyes intensely locked on the pillow under your head. he doesn't even want to look at you.
with each of his thrusts, something in your belly coils tighter, despite the anxiety that tingles through you. you keep trying to scold yourself, reminding you that it wasn't your place to feel good. it's a crude mix of emotion, but you can't let it show. your father's probably told him how weak you are. he already knows.
the pulsing need grows stronger, and his thrusts grow sloppy. the hand you have clasped over your mouth fall for a brief moment, and something inside builds, and builds and builds... and snaps.
"Oh, my-!" you cry out, thighs trembling as what could only be described as waves of pleasure roll through your core, over and over. your thighs tremble, and above you, choso shudders and lets out a choked groan.
you feel something spill inside from where he's still sheathed, adding to the sticky wet mess between your thighs. the room is now longer filled with the sound of skin on skin, but a set of heavy breaths. it's quiet, and the pleasurable feeling is slowly ebbing.
with a soft but unmistakeable groan, he pulls himself from your body, which quickly clenches around nothing. you feel his seed leak from it, dripping down to join your maidenhood blood on the sheets.
you lie there, cringing at the discomfort but not entirely sure what to do now. how many times do we have to do it until i'm with child, you wonder?
you don't get much time to worry, especially once choso rises from bed and retrieves a folded towel from a chair near the fire.
he sits at the edge of the bed, gaze stuck to your messy entrance. you instinctively go to close your legs out of self-consciousness, but one of his large hands holds one knee away from each other. you can't look at him, even as he cleans it with the towel. he's probably just glad, you think harrowingly. he doesn't have to do this again with me. he'll go off on this expedition, and find himself a woman of the night who will truly satisfy him.
you're just a wife.
those four words repeat in your head like someone's strumming the same low string on a harp, once you shamefully climb under the bedsheets and curl into yourself. your body is almost falling off the edge, yet there's plenty of room between you and him. he's on his side, facing the opposite wall.
you barely sleep at all that night.
but when you do drift into a fitful dream, your breathing growing heavy, choso eventually turns over to face your back. his hand reaches out, a callused fingertip ghosting across strands of your hair on the pillow. before his skin can reach yours, he pulls back. he doesn't sleep that night.
the bed is cold when you wake up. no sign of your new husband, aside from a slight dip and wrinkle in the pillow where his head had lain.
your chest feels empty. why do you feel such disappointment? he had a arduously long and deadly journey ahead of him to the northern mountains, and would likely encounter all kids of cursed monsters on the rocky road. he didn't know you, and clearly didn't wish to.
the same archbishop who had declared you both husband and wife, in bridled purity and dignity, enters the bedchamber later on. he makes another declaration upon inspection of the speckles of blood on the sheets, announcing your taken maidenhood to the rest of the zenin house. you shrink into the corner of the room. you'd once been read a story as a young girl, about a boy who lived in the walls of his home. his family spent years searching for him, but by the time he finally heard them calling, he had grown too big to get out. your fingers splay across the cold, gristly stone behind you, searching for some hidden door that would take you away from it all.
months pass, and when your family calls for the doctor, it is revealed that you are not with child. the shame stacks up, like bricks.
time passes, and you are shunned to your chambers. you hardly leave, but you don't mind, in a way. your family do not speak to you. you are no longer their daughter, their sister, their cousin. you are the wife of a lowborn knight, who had disappeared off into the wilderness. they want rid of you, but cannot kill you. they pretend you are not there.
you take your meals in your room, have stacks of books sent up each month, and you still speak to the maids from time to time.
there is no news of choso.
after three years, you hear your husband's name again.
the maid hushes it into your ear one morning as she organises your hair in the mirror.
"lord kamo is returning, my lady," she says with urgency. "he is expected back by the end of the week, from a letter sent ahead by his scouts. he is wanting to take you to redfall, to kamo castle."
your eyes look out to the window. sunlight streams in, but there is still a slight breeze trailing in. the first day of spring.
later that week, you stand amongst your family for the first time in years. even on this day when you depart from them, they don't look at you.
your father is overjoyed, knowing that lord choso had been victorious against the dreaded dragon kenjaku. of course he is. he's been promised a portion of the riches from the dragon's lair. all the money in the world to throw away on wine and expensive drapes for the grand hall.
joyous cheers line the streets, as the cacophany of horse hooves clap against the cobblestone road leading up to the castle of zenin, to where you stand.
your gown is a deep navy, lined with a golden trim and intricate designs twirling up the bodice. you're glad choso has riches beyond belief after slaying the dragon. you're the meagre prize he has had to go out of way to collect and cart home.
the death painting knights flood steadily into the courtyard, flowers of all colours tucked into their belts and horse saddles. they stare up at the castle, and guilt gnaws at you. they're probably longing for home at redfall, and instead have had to travel for miles back to where they started. all for you.
choso leads the group, at the helm of a hundred men. you wonder how many did not return.
his hair is longer, and brushes his broad shoulders, which are extended further by his pauldrons. his cheekbones are slightly more defined, but
what's new, however, is the slashed scar across the bumped bridge of his nose, which ends at both sides just an inch below his eyes.
he comes to a halt, stepping down from the black saddle of his dark warhorse and walks to stand in front of you. he stares for a few moment, hands clenched at his sides.
"a joyous return, lord kamo! say, just how much did you recover from the dragon's lair?"
choso barely spares him a glance, his eyes stuck on you. you can't hold his gaze any more, so you drop it to the ground. he keeps looking at you. "there is a cart on its way with your agreed portion of the riches. the rest i have sent back to redfall," is it just you, or does he sound... bored? "i have come for my wife. she will be living at kamo castle from now on, as lady kamo of redfall."
for once, your father has nothing to say. his silence makes a smile twitch at your lips, your head still bent low. you hear a shuffle of material, and a large hand reaches out to you.
it's the first time you've seen him in three years, and he's already touching his skin to yours. your hand feels so small in his, as he leads your towards a carriage. he opens the door, helping you climb inside. it's rather nice, with cushioned seats, blankets and pillows. you open your mouth to thank him, but the door shuts in your face.
what you believed was a nervous kind of hope, curdles into dread. you were going to live in a strange new land, where you knew no one, with husband who very obviously disliked you. you were an inconvenience to the zenins, and you were now an inconvenience to choso.
several minutes pass of you nervously picking at the thread on one of the pillows, listening to the thuds of coin-filled canvas bags hit stone.
eventually, you hear choso shout to his men. they'd finished loading up on supplies, and it was time to head home.
the carriage door opens, and in climbs choso. he shuts the door behind him, and sits down on the opposite side of the carriage. it begins to roll slowly, steadily, out of the courtyard, away from the zenins.
"why are you in here?" you blurt out, before you can hold back the words.
his eyes narrow slightly. "i've been sleeping on mud-soaked bedrolls and spent most of my time on the back of my horse for three years. for his sake and mine, i wanted some rest. i hope my lady wife can excuse me." he replies quietly. the way he'd said it, you would rather have had him shout at you.
mortified, you shake your head. "I am sorry, i spoke out of turn. that is not what i meant."
"what did you mean?"
you swallow, the words shaky and foolish now that you voice them aloud. "you have proven victorious in the battle against the dragon. the people of this land worship you. surely they want to thank you, as you ride by on your horse."
one of his eyebrows raise. "you want rid of me that badly?"
you begin to protest, but he continues. "i have no need for their thanks. they only do that because i succeeded. three years ago, they would not have spared me a glance." he says wryly, carefully shifting the curtain aside to look at the waving throngs of people who bid your party farewell and offer last congratulations.
you watch him- hazel eyes catching the afternoon light that creeps through the curtain, and the fresh scar across his nose. it looks like it's only been healing for a few weeks at most and appeared rather deep. he was lucky whatever had dealt the blow had missed his eyes. the scar brings another layer cloak of authority to him, as though his legendary strength and steel greatsword weren't already enough.
his eyes flicker to yours again. "the journey to redfall will take us around three days. kamo castle may not be to your liking right now. it has only had my staff live in it for the last few years," his gaze turns rather pointed, as if that's somehow your fault. "i have sent for a hundred new gowns for you, in every colour. they should be there by the time we arrive."
that takes you by surprise. he'd bought gowns for you? "you didn't have to do that." you reply awkwardly. you weren't used to this. had he noticed that the dress you were wearing now was several years old? compared to your sister in the latest fashion ordered from the capital, you wardrobe had become drab and rather threadbare.
choso lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "i know you're probably used to diamonds and the finest silk, but you will have all of that and more in kamo castle."
"thank you." you whisper. he hears, but does not say anything back.
soon, the winding cobblestones of the nearest town to zenin castle made way for dirt paths through tall, swaying trees. it stretches endlessly ahead, the carriage wheels creaking softly as they rolled over the uneven path. outside, the late afternoon sun painted the countryside in long golden shadows, but inside the carriage the space felt small and quiet⌠almost suffocating.
occasionally, his knee would bump yours. his legs were far too long for the carriage, but for hours he insisted on sitting there. every time it happened, you mind would flash back to that night three years ago. to what exactly lay underneath that tunic, those trousers. it had been a disaster, yes, and one you were in no rush to repeat. but you would soon be living together. sharing a bed.
choso suddenly gives a hard knock to the side of the carriage, wordlessly bringing it to a halt. he stands as best he can, stopping to avoid the roof, before turning to you. "i will continue the rest of the day on horseback. try to get some sleep, we will stop for dinner rather late tonight."
then, he's gone. the carriage door closes, and soon it's moving again. a steady set of hooves can be heard right beside the carriage now. you don't dare peep past the curtain, knowing already that it's choso.
you do as he asked, trying to get comfortable on the seat. you prop your legs up, and rest a cushion behind your weary, pounding head. the sound of hoof beats and muffled conversation between the knights outside slowly lulls you into an exhausted slumber.
the next day comes in slowly. while the knights and choso get to sleep outside in tents, you are confined to the carriage. you get to leave it for a brief few minutes during the day, to stretch your legs and relieve yourself amongst the trees and bushes, all whilst being guarded in a doglike manner by choso.
he does not let you out of his sight. there is one instance, when you voiced a polite thank you to one of his death painting knights who handed you a cup of water, and he had appeared from nowhere and loomed above the man until he'd run off in the opposite direction. he'd ushered you back into the carriage after that, much to your disappointment. but not before shoving a new cup of water into your hands.
you'd spent your whole life lonely. it was something you'd grown used to. so why did it all of a sudden feel so crushing? your husband did not want you, and it hurt.
you spend one night crying inside the cabin, muffling your sobs into a pillow so as to not wake the sleeping, snoring knights outside. you think of how horribly embarrassed choso would be if his men heard his wife crying like a pathetic little girl. they surely though you were a spoiled thing, and choso did not ask for you. why had he agreed to this woeful mishap of a marriage?
another day passes, and choso informs you that redfall is finally on the horizon. you only nod silently at his words, and return to staring out of the window. you feel his heavy stare on your skin, but you refuse to look. when the carriage door shuts rather harshly, the tears begin their fateful flow again.
eventually, the dirt path turns to cobblestone once more, indicating your arrival in redfall.
choso had taken redfall as his own land only a few months prior to your marriage announcement. he became its lord, and also claimed the castle there. you'd heard that the land of redfall was infertile, and so its people relied on livestock and trade. you weren't entirely sure what to expect, but upon observation out of the carriage window, you are pleasantly surprised.
modest homes and stalls line the streets, and there appeared to be a substantial population. you even spot some merchants, which is a sign of a growing trade. its people look healthy and... happy. their smiles only grown when they notice their returning lord.
"lord kamo, lord kamo! he has saved us once more and returned!" voices cry out vehement praise towards him and his knights. you can't see him, but you're sure he makes an impressive figure, leading his brave knights home atop his dark horse, greatsword swinging heavily at his hip.
the carriage comes to a stop after a short while. you hear heavy boots land on stone, and a few moments later, the carriage door opens. choso holds it open, outstretching one hand to you. you feel the calluses after you gingerly take it, his roughened fingers twining around yours as you step down into the cool sunlight.
kamo castle looms above you, but it's not quite as scary as you'd imagined. it was built more akin to a fortress, but with huge, silvery-grey brick which formed a main keep. Five high walls grew out, forming identical towers draped in plain, crimson flags which fluttered in the calm breeze. it was not built for beauty, but for endurance.
choso stands so close behind you that you can feel him. "i know it is not half the sight of zenin castle. but it is your home now."
he speaks as though you're disappointed. you are a hundred miles from the zenins, and you are the lady of this castle. despite choso's clear dissatisfaction with you, you feel a glimmer of hope. could you freely walk the hallways? sit at the top table? not have to wait for nightfall to stroll the gardens?
"i like it." you say softly. his breath hitches behind you, and his gaze grows heavy on the back of your head.
he takes your hand in his again, and you notice something for the first time. instead of pulling you forward, he keeps himself a mere half a step aheadâhis body naturally positioning itself the way a leader does. but his grip on your hand feels unsure, like he doesn't quite know what to do with it. his thumb rests between one of your knuckles, and you swear he brushes it over them just once, a quick touch. it must have been an accident.
the castle staff await in the entrance hall, bowing immediately at the sight of their lord. he brings you to stand in front of them, and their bows dip even deeper.
he introduces you to them one by one, and you greet them by name with a gentle smile. they seem like homely, friendly people, who, from only a brief interaction, hold a great deal of respect for choso. their lord was now the strongest, most famous knight in the continent. what sparkled in their eyes looked like worship.
"i would like baths drawn for my wife and myself. she has travelled a great distance to be here," two of the maids standing in the greeting line nod, before departing up the grand staircase of the entry hall. choso turns to you, his warm hand dropping from yours. "i must go and see to the rest of the castle. it has been a long time from i have been here."
you nod in understanding, but the small bit of hope dwindles slightly. it made sense- he'd been gone three years, and the castle had been fending without their lord for all that time. so why had a little part of you imagined him making time for you, to show you around this vast, empty castle which from this day on was to be your forever home.
he goes to turn, but stops in his tracks. he doesn't even look at you when he speaks. "we shall dine together tonight." then he's gone, leaving you behind to stare after his billowing black cloak. the only person you knew in this land had just left you.
trying to mask the aching hurt in your heart, you let another one of the maids lead you up the grand staircase. the castle, which looked so imposing and powerful on the outside, was nothing to boast of from inside. not a single painting or tapestry lined the hallways, nor flower sat in a vase. it did not feel like it had ever been lived in.
you follow the maid to a large bathchamber, in which the two additional maids from earlier stood preparing your bath. one poured the remaining steaming water into a large, wooden tub in the centre of the sweet-smelling room, whilst the other sprinkled sprigs of lavender atop the water. the room was alight with numerous candles, shedding a soft, comforting light over the room.
they assist you in removing your dress, and in helping you step into the hot water. steam licks at your skin, making the air hot and hazy. the smell of the lavender is so soothing, you cannot help but let out a sigh.
you had't realised how stiff your shoulders had become after living in a carriage for three days and nights, but they begin the relax as the maids run a rich oil through your hair, and the only sounds that fill the room are your soft sighs and the trickle of water.
"would you care to soak a little longer, my lady?" asks the youngest of the maids, remi. "you've had a long journey."
your eyes light up at the suggestion and you nod little too eagerly. the three of them bow and tell you to call for them once you're ready to be dressed.
your back relaxes into the rounded corner of the tub, against a pillowing cloth they'd laid out for your comfort. the steam makes your eyes grow heavy, your now soothed muscles relax into the water...
the door swings open, and your eyes shoot open, expecting to see that the maids had returned before you have even called. except it's not the maids.
choso stands in the doorway, his face flushed scarlet and eyes wide. they fall, landing on the skin where the water touches.
you let out a mortified gasp, the water splashing as you sink yourself lower to hide your wet breasts. perhaps you could sink down even lower and drown yourself.
the door slams shut before you even get the chance to speak.
he has a bad habit of doing that, you think, and for a split second it offers you a brief distraction from what had just happened. he'd seen you naked before. he'd lain with you. he was your husband. so, why had he ran?
perhaps, you ponder, perhaps he doesn't hate me. perhaps he's just not into the fairer sex. he had spent the last three years surrounded by nothing but other men, after all.
even so, you dunk your head beneath the water, hoping to never have to see him again.
the new fine leather slippers on your feet are soft, yet your footsteps still echo along the empty hallway.
the corridors of the castle are endless, and the lack of decor doesn't help you in your attempt to find the grand hall. but before you can truly start to panic, you come across a set of large doors. you breathe for a few moments, trying to steady your heart as though choso could hear it from inside.
you can't get over the look on his face when he'd stormed into the bathchamber earlier today. for a moment, you'd thought he'd remaining there, staring at you. you imagined him storming into the room, plucking you from the bath with your body still warm and wet, and taking you there and then like a normal husband would. you were well aware of how men rarely loved their wives, but at least they'd spare more than a sentence or two on them per day.
obligation and duty pressing you down, and embarrassment trying to pull you back., you push one of the doors open and step into the great hall.
the rich smell of beef and mellow spices invade your senses the moment you step inside, glancing around at the hall itself. long tables were laid out in rows, parallel to each other. steaming plates of food piled high had been placed in front of two opposite seats- one of which was empty, and in the other one sat choso.
he's changed- now donning a black tunic, inlaid with some silver brocade along the collar, and black trousers. all he was missing was a crown atop his dark brown locks, which had been tied into unruly knots. he looked like a prince.
he stands from his chair the moment he sees you step in, watching your every move as you make your way towards him with your head held high. was his mind also repeating what happened earlier?
"my lady," he breathes, once you are stood before him. "that dress, it's..."
your hands splay over the hem, straightening an imaginary wrinkle. "one of the dresses you had ordered," you reply. "the maids helped me pick it out. there were... a lot to choose from."
he straights where he stands, nodding. "good."
a hefty, awkward silence snakes between you, your eyes darting look anywhere but at him. but he thankfully moves first, pulling out your chair to tuck you into the dining table.
once you're seated, he takes the chair opposite to face you, but the silence continues on for another few moments. so, you decide to eat. the first bite of fluffy potato and lean cut of beef is unlike anything you'd ever tasted before and you can't help but let out the tiniest little moan of delight.
choso, who happened to be mid-sip of wine, coughs, before propping his elbow onto the wooden table and burying his lips into the whitened knuckles of his curled fist. "please... don't make those sounds," he voice comes out muffled, eyes dark as he looks at you. "keep eating."
as you eat, your mind recollects all the good things and bad things about living here. the staff so far had treated you well, the bath had been enjoyable (even if it had been interrupted), and you could roam wherever you wished. on the downside, your husband disliked everything about you. but that was something you could perhaps change.
the more sips of wine you take, the less intimidating it becomes to look him in the eye suddenly and speak. "is there a library here?"
choso nods. "there is, but i have never been in it myself. i believe it's in the eastern tower," he explains. "i had it filled with books when i first took over this land, before our wedding, in expectation of your arrival."
that makes you pause. "you prepared for my arrival three years ago?"
it's like the temperature in the room drops, the way his mouth slips into a frown and his fingers tighten on the edge of the table. his tone is dark, controlled, when he finally speaks. "i had expected your arrival to be straight after the wedding. but i received word after a few months on the expedition from my head of staff, telling me that you had not come."
when you say nothing, perhaps because you are too busy trying to catching up with his thoughts, he continues, each word sounding angrier than the last. "i thought something had happened, that you had been attacked on the road. i later discovered that you had not even left zenin castle."
you look at him, eyes filling with tears. "some places are not so easy to leave. you don't understand..."
he reaches out a hand as though to grab yours, but it freezes halfway across the table. he curses, his hand falling back to his side before he stand, the chair scraping once against the stone in a sharp scuff. "don't cry. please."
you don't even watch him leave, you can't beat to. you hear the large doors open and close, so you finally bury your head in your hands and sob.
later that night, you curl under the sheets of the large bed in the bedchamber. it had been hours since dinner, and the only sight you'd caught of choso was from the window of library which you had finally discovered after many wrong turns. he had been in the courtyard, look deep in discussion with some merchants and tradespeople. you'd gone back to your book after a while, before your attention was once again diverted out the window by the metallic scrapes and clangs of swords.
your eyes had fallen on your husband at once. he'd forgone his tunic and cloak, now sparring in nothing but his trousers and boots. his tied hairstyle from earlier had fallen loose around his shoulders, and the way he swung his sword towards his opponent was calculated, hair-raising.
the view wasn't entirely clear from several windows up, but your imagination filled in the rest. sweat was most definitely gathering at his neck, dripping down those hardened muscles of his back. between each sword swing, he was most certainly grunting, making all kinds of gruff noises, maybe the same noises he'd made on your wedding night-
before your thoughts could make your core throb even more, you had sprinted for your bedchamber and called the maids to ready you for bed.
so you lie in nothing but your thin, spring nightgown, hair loose and spread over your pillow, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would distract you from the growing ache between your legs. but eventually, your hand trails down and slips under the your nightgown, fingers carefully running along your slick folds. you throw your head back onto the pillow, letting out a delighted gasp. your mind flits through memories of passages you'd read in books, where a prince gathers his princess into his arms and kisses her in unbridled passion. but no matter how many times you try to concentrate on those images, the sight of choso and his rippling muscles, the faint memories of how he'd looked the night of the wedding keep pushing through.
your peak edges up quickly, wetness pooling on the feather-stuffed mattress below.
the door slowly creaks open, and you scramble to pull your fingers from your wet heat, heart slamming against your ribs. it doesn't stop upon seeing who it is.
choso steps into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. his shirt is still off, but it looks as though he's washed. he silently makes his way into the bedchamber, running a hand through his hair and sitting on the opposite side of the bed.
you hold your breath, eyes squeezing shut in prayer that he'd assume you were asleep. in your pleasured haze, you'd entirely forgotten he'd be joining you in bed.
each sound he makes seems amplified in the silent room. the barely-there grunt as he pulls off his heavy boots, the noise they make as they hit the floor, and the soft click of buttons as he removes his trousers...
a shaky breath escapes your lips when your hear the material drop to the floor. the mattress dips even further behind you as he lies down. you can't exactly tell how close he is, and don't want to risk a peek.
what felt like hours passed, the two of you refusing to acknowledge each other. was he also pretending to be asleep? how dare he! you're in the middle of debating whether to to bravely shift and turn over, when you feel the lightest touch of your hair on the pillow. you think nothing of it at first, believing it to have simply moved on its own.
but a second touch comes. then a third. by the fifth time, you realise it's choso.
his finger runs down the length of of the locks of hair resting on your pillow, over and over. he picks it up in his hand at one point, softly twisting it between his fingers.
the feeling lulls you to into a dreamless sleep.
you don't see choso much over the next two weeks. he's either training with the rest of the knights, meeting in the council room with merchants, or heading out beyond the protective walls of the castle and town to oversee a new road being built from the port. they say it will make redfall the most prosperous location in this part of the continent, a new hub for trade and commerce.
to prevent yourself from becoming a ghost in yet another castle, you put yourself to work. you pore over the redfall accounts- there was money coming in from trading within the town and miles away at the port, which gave kamo castle a substantial number of coffers. but the further you read, the more mind-boggling the amounts of money grew. it grew into a number you didn't even know how to say in words.
it must be all the gold choso recovered from the dragon's lair, you realised. and not just gold- diamonds, rubies, mother-of pearl, priceless heirlooms and artifacts... choso had more riches than the king himself.
during your evening meal, you'd asked what was to be done with the money. he'd looked you in the eyes, and told you it was yours to do with as you pleased. you'd suggested decorating the castle, perhaps getting new window panes, and adding some paintings to the hallways. he's stared at you for a few moments after you'd spoken (something you had gotten used to), before nodding and telling you that the money was yours as much as his, and to do whatever you wished.
you arranged meetings with travelling merchants, who quoted you prices for new, double-paned glass to be fitted on all the windows of the castle. you'd worried about the cost he'd quoted, but upon tallying the numbers against the castle accounts, turns out it would hardly make the smallest of dents.
another few weeks pass, and the hallways are now properly lit with new chandeliers, lined with deep crimson curtains and the occasional vase of flowers perched in front of brand new windows. you feel a strong sense of pride when you walk through them now, as the castle feels more like a home with every passing day. it was a fine distraction.
one afternoon, you decide that you've spent far too much time inside the walls of the castle, and decide to go for a stroll to inspect the gardens. you'd learned that the castle gardener tried his best to maintain it, but was growing old and could not manage the sprawling grounds all by himself. spring was coming to an end, and summer was breaking through the remaining wispy clouds. now was the perfect time to plant seeds.
you step out into the sunshine that beat down on redfall, the noise of swords clanging reaching your ears, which sounded far mort rhythmic and timed than usual. you look to the training grounds, to see choso stalking his way around a band of young squires, who were practicing their swordsmanship. choso barks out orders to fix their sword arms, to hold them properly, keep their backs straight.
you watch him as you descend the stone steps into the courtyard, your eyes burning into his back. he stiffens suddenly, and turns, his eyes meeting yours.
"my lady! i have not seen you since our long journey here." a cheery voice comes from behind, and you spin to meet with one of choso's death painting knights, the one who had kindly offered you water on the journey from zenin castle to redfall.
you smile, nodding in recognition. "of course, i apologise. i have been stuck inside quite a lot with the redecoration efforts," you realise it does not sound very exciting or meaningful when you tell it to a battle-worn knight who had fought against lethal monsters. "i'm heading over to the gardens, now. i haven't yet seen them. but first, i must actually find them." you joke.
the knight's eyes light up, offering out his arm. "would my lady care for me to guide her? they're just through-"
"step away from my wife."
a shadow casts over you and the knight, who jumps away from you as though scalded. "yes, lord commander!" he stammers, his body practically bending in half as he bows towards you and the shadow you now know is your husband, before walking rather quickly away from the scene, not once daring to look back.
you wheel around to him, already frowning. "what?" you snap, arms folding across your chest as your frustration with this annoying man spills over. "he was only giving me directions!"
his eyes dart around, as though he doesn't want to look you at you. "he was standing far too close," he says gruffly after a moment, folding his arms in mimicry of you. "it wasn't... respectable."
you snort, wondering if he'd find that respectable or not. "i just wanted to see the gardens." you tell him, glumly.
his brows furrow. "this is the first time you've come out into courtyard."
you look up at him. "how do you know that?"
you swear the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink, and he actually stammers. "i, er- you've been preoccupied with castle renovations. you've been taking on too much."
anger swells in you at his words. "after your insinuation!" you hiss incredulously, before gathering your skirts and stalking off in the direction you think the gardens are.
his long legs catch up to you in no time, and his gloveless hand closes around your upper arm. you assumed you'd forget how big his hands are, but no. his fingers clasp, the warmth seeping into your skin through your sleeve. it makes your heart hurt. why did he have to be soft in secret? you yearned for him to take your hand and kiss you. he did not have to love you. you could pretend, and just maybe, it would be enough for you.
both of your gazes drop down to his hand on you, and he pulls it away as though burned. "that wasn't my intention, i didn't mean-"
"then what did you mean?" you pressed, your voice wavering despite your effort to steady it. âbecause you never seem to mean anything you say. or doâ
a flicker of something crosses his expressionâbrief, but there.
âyouâre misunderstandingââ
âno,â you cut in, shaking your head. âI donât believe I am." the distance between you is short, but you feel miles away from each other.
âyou avoid me,â you said, quieter now, but the words hit harder. âyou barely speak to me unless you have to. you leave before I wake. you wonât even stand near me unless you have to.â
chosoâs jaw tightens, and he starts with a, "that's not-", but you're quick to cut him off. you decide to be brave and face it.
âdo you hate me that much?â
the question lands like a blow, and silence follows it. for the first time ever, choso looked⌠caught off guard. you're aware that although your voices aren't raised, the two of you have caught the attention of the various mix of people in the courtyard. the squires have paused their training to stare gormlessly, and a few stable hands sneak the odd peek. even a few kitchen maids washing clothes at the well are listening in, but are thankfully being rather subtle about it.
ââŚwhat?â his voice drops much lower now. dangerous in a way you hadnât heard before. not angry, but something deeper and strained.
âyou heard me,â you challenge, despite the tightness in your throat. âif this marriage is such a burden, you donât have to pretend otherwise. i know you regret this marriage-â
"stop.â
the hand that had touches your arm a few moments ago was clenched at his side, his fingernails digging crescents into the roughened skin of his palm.
ââŚyou think i regret it?â he exhales roughly, his tone sharp. âyou think thatâs what this is?â
your heart stutters in your chest, mouth opening and closing when no sound comes out. he presses on, and you catch a slight tremble in his words.
"do you have any idea,â he said quietly, âhow difficult it is to stand near you and notââ his jaw clenches, hard. his normally hazel-brown eyes are blackened, and unsteady in a way you have only seen once before.
that day in the bath.
ââŚnot what?â you whispered.
his eyes lift to yours again. but he still doesn't give you an answer, an explanation of why. the moment stretches into something fragile, ready to break. his eyes glance away for a brief moment, eyes falling on the conversing knights who are too close and could eavesdrop.
you step back, shaking your head. âi donât want distance,â you mutter, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it. ânor do i care about hundreds of dresses, or a big castle, or gardens,â
your fingers curl slightly at your sides, wrinkling into the fabric there.
âi just want my husband.â
choso stills completely, and for a moment you think he hasn't understood you at all. his gaze flickers over your face, searching, with something akin to disbelief in his expression.
ââŚyour husband?â he repeats, quietly. he sounds so... uncertain. a strange expression crosses his face when you nod.
his hand reaches out again, and you realise he's reaching for you. your heart leaps, towards hope and something brand new. then his hand stops. hesitation. again.
your feet are moving before you can stop them, focusing on getting somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here. your eyes sting as you run, blurring as they land on an open, iron-wrought gate along the wall. you dive in, now amongst winding vines and towering, flowering bushes.
you come to a heaving stop at the large tree, in the furthest corner. its feathery, trailing leaves fall around you in a sweeping curtain, brushing against the damp grass. it shields you.
you're not sure how long you sit there for. all you know is it was long enough for the maids to come searching for you, to help you to your feet. they guide you up the stairs into your shared bedchamber with choso. they dress you into your nightgown and usher you to bed. you feel like a helpless child. even so, your eyes can't help but glance over to his side of the bed. untouched.
"his lordship has went out riding," remi tells you, fluffing your pillow with a sympathetic look in her eye. "we were all surprised- he just stormed off, didn't even tell anyone he was going."
you nod silently, closing your eyes. you hear them leave, catching a snippet of a whisper, "i wish he'd just tell her already. poor dear."
not sure if you want to know what that meant, you draw the covers over you and envelop yourself in the dark.
it's still dark when you wake. you sit up, tired and groggy.
the noise of the rain must have woken you up- it pelts against the curtained windows of your bedchamber. your eyes adjust to the dark slightly, and you notice the other side of the bed, where the sheets are still tucked. he never came to bed.
thunder rumbles directly above the castle, signalling the heavens to open when remi's words float back to you. his lordship went out riding.
a flash of lightning sends a shocking white light into the room from behind the curtains, and you're up. flying the bedchamber door open and sprinting down the halls. choso is out there, alone. you curse him as you descend the stairs, nightgown billowing at your heels. curse him for everything he's said and hasn't said.
you slip out of the towering castle doors, your nightgown instantly soaked to your bones within moments. there's another clap of thunder, and in the brief flash of lightning crashing into the nearby woods, you see him. at first, you convince yourself it was your imagination. a trick of the storm, perhaps, or of your own desperation.
tall and shrouded in the darkness, he makes his way toward the castle. then, he looks up, and stops at the sight of you. it's dark, cold and the rain lashes down, but that doesn't hide the fire burning in his eyes.
"you fool! come inside!" you shout, trying to hide your own stupidity of forgetting a cloak and shoes. the wet material of the nightdress clings to you like a second translucent skin.
your voice seems to finally stir him, and he cuts through the rain towards you. the sight makes you swallow, and you remember- this man has killed a dragon. he looks every bit the part of a killer, with his hulking frame, tired and dark eyes, and the healed slash across his nose.
he stops in front of you, a mere breath away. he's just as soaked as you are, with rain dripping down his face like crystalline tears. he's close. too close.
your eyes drop to the floor, waiting for him to simply brush uncaringly past you. but expression tells an entirely different story, and held something rawer that you'd ever seen before. rain relentlessly poured around you, but strangely, you didn't feel cold.
for a moment, he just looks at you. water drips from his long eyelashes, down his flushed cheeks, over the sharp arch of his cupid's bow... then his gaze moves slowly, agonisingly. from your face, down to where fabric clings to you, outlining the swell of your breasts, and the darker skin of your hardened nipples.
fire burning behind your cheeks, you stutter out, "you- you didn't come to bed. you left without telling anyone. i thought-" you stop yourself. he doesn't want to hear this, not from you.
âi needed to think,â he murmurs. his eyes finally meet yours again, and they're black.
curiosity gets the better of you. âabout what?â you ask.
his jaw flexed again. âabout you," he answers quickly and honestly, which takes you aback. "âyou said... that you wanted your husband.â
his eyes never leave yours. not once. "do you understand what that means?â
the question makes your pulse stutter. but all the same, you nod. "i think i do."
His gaze darkens slightly, and the distance between you almost disappears completely when he takes a step closer. he's not wearing his armour, and the soaked material of his black shirt brushes your chest. you shiver, but not from the cold.
"no,â he speaks quietly. his breath seems uneven, strained. âyou donât. i have spent weeks trying to keep my distance because i thought you didnât want me near you.â
his hand lifts once more, slowly, like he was giving you time to pull away. you don't and his fingers hover just at your waist, not quite touching. you can feel the heat seeping from them.
you can't quite believe what he's saying. all this time, had you been pushing away. but that was only because of how he'd treated you- pushing you away at every turn, rejecting your every effort to grow closer to him.
you shake your head, confused. "but.. i thought you hated me?" the question slips out before you can stop them. something in his eyes breaks, and his hand finally touches you. resting on your waist. an innocent touch, to the oblivious eye. but to you, there's a burning desire in his palm, and it's heating through your skin, right to your heart.
his voice shakes when he speaks again. "i thought my wife hated me, from the day of the wedding. you were forced into this marriage, it was all over your face that day. you looked so...disappointed." his face falls, his mind consumed in memories of that day, a long three years ago.
"it's true," you start, blinking through the rain. "i was disappointed. but i was disappointed for you. my father forced you to go on that expedition in his place, and your grand prize was marrying his second, unsatisfactory daughter? i felt like such a burden to you!"
his other hand comes to grip the other side of your waist both hands suddenly squeezing tight. "you- oh, god," he looks like a man who had discovered some kind of divine purpose, clinging on to you with his eyes blown wide. he looked demented. "i wanted to marry you! you were all i wanted, not the gold, not the sonnets nor the stupid fucking glory. you! i would have given every diamond in that dragon's hold to your father if it meant having you to all myself. i felt so greedy that day i kissed you on that altar, but it meant i had you, even if you didn't want me-"
he rambles like an absolute madman, drunk on the truth. anyone else listening would be thinking that lord choso kamo had gone insane.
he breathes heavily, lifting his hands from their grip on your waist to gently, oh so carefully, cup your jaw to tilt your face closer to his. "hate you? oh, wife, you consume me," he whispers shakily, eyes darting between your eyes to your lips. they're so full of desperation, as rainwater drips from his long, delicate eyelashes. or was that... tears?
your entire world has been jolted sideways, and not given you any time to breathe. your whole body trembles, but not from the chill of the downpour. something different, and something you had never felt before this moment,
"say it again," he murmurs.
it catches you by surprise, breath hitching. "w-what?"
"what you said earlier. in the courtyard. please." he pleads, and you attempt to gather your scattered thoughts to think back to the argument, which felt like so long ago now. it all made sense, the argument, and every moment before it since the wedding. every one of his dismissive words, his attempts to give you an easy life without him being in it, providing for you, and him finding those moments believing you were asleep to finally touch you, even if it had been simple strokes of your hair.
the courtyard feels small around you both. you can feel him, and only him. you want to live in this feeling, forever.
you lean into his large, dripping hands letting yourself fall into him. "i want my husband."
your first and only kiss had been with choso, on your wedding day. it had been quick, polite and decent.
when he gives you your second kiss, it's unrestrained. years of distance, misunderstanding and pure want, tightly pressed into a moment where neither of you wanted to hold back anymore.
your lips move frantically together, trying to find a rhythm. his mouth is clumsy against yours, and you're not much different. your hands curl into the fabric of his soaked shirt, breath slipping from your lungs. it's hot, wet, and you want more.
when you pull away, his pupils are blown wide. a string of spit connects your lips together, and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling you back into his lips. the plummeting rain continued to soak you both through, but you didn't care- and by the feeling of desperation in his mouth against yours, neither did choso.
his hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you into him completely. your own hands move upwards, up the front of his tunic to brace against the hardness of his chest. all you could feel was him. his warmth, his hands, the steady way in which he cradles you tightly to him. his body stiffens, even his lips faltered, as a soft groan leaves him. when he pulls away a second time, it feels purposeful.
you both breathe raggedly, as his forehead brushes yours for the briefest, gentlest moment before his grip shifts. one thick arm slides securely around your back, the other moves beneath your knees.
you barely have time to react before he lifts you into his arms, the same way a groom carries his bride down the steps of the church. except you are not in a church. you are in your home, one that you shared with him.
a small gasp excapes you, instinctively reaching for him as the ground disappears beneath your feet.
"wait- choso!" but he doesn't stop. he pushes one of the heavy double doors of the castle open with a strong shoulder. you notice how carefully he does it, so that the noise does not wake the sleeping servants.
water drips in a telltale trail across the polished flagstones of the entry hall as he walks with you in his arms. he looks forward, his strides wrought with purpose and a need to take you to wherever he wished. unable to stop yourself, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the scar across his nose.
he stops in his tracks on the staircase, his eyes finally falling to you in his arms. "you're making this very difficult."
you blink. "i am?"
he grimaces. "yes," he replies, his voice a low growl. "i'm trying to hold back from taking you right here on these steps."
heat rushes to your core at the picture he paints with his filthy words. you remember what he did on your wedding night, with his fingers, and then his...
with a clench of his jaw, he sets back on walking up the stairs to the winding hallways. the new chandeliers sparkle warmly above you both, contrasting to the rain pelting at the recently renovated windows. what had seemed so important a mere few days ago, felt entirely insignificant now that you were finally in your husband's arms.
he slips you both through the doors of your shared bedchamber, and wastes no time in setting you on the bed. his movements are restrained, stiff, and you think back to his words before. he's holding back.
but rather than settle on the bed with you, he takes a step back from the bed... and kneels on the floor, right where you sit up against the pillow. his pupils are blown wide as he looks at you, his face flushed. you had only seen him like this once before, three years ago.
"choso? you whisper.
his head drops, forehead resting on the edge of the bed. he looks like a devout worshipper, kneeling before his god and pleading for intervention.
a shuddering breath shakes his shoulders, but his face is concealed, hanging low. "i only hope that you forgive me, my love," he speaks softly. he lifts his face to look at you, eyes shimmering in the firelight. "these past three years, i have thought of nothing but you. and i want you to know that it was all for you."
"choso... i realise now," you reach out a hand, and run your fingers through his loose hair, just as he has done for many nights to you. his body quakes at your touch. "i hope you can forgive me, also. i have not been a dutiful wife. i did not come to kamo castle after we married. i did not think you would want me there, and nor did my father, because... i failed to give you a child. i am so sorry." remorse crawls back you, for something you though you had buried a long time ago. you did not know choso then, and he had gone before you had gotten the chance to. you had been left with nothing of him. perhaps a small babe, with his dark hair and light brown eyes would have made his absence feel less lonely.
choso is suddenly on his feet. his chest heaves as he looks down at you, and in one fluid motion, pulls off his shirt. your eyes shamelessly trail over his thick torso, the various pale scars across his sinewy arms, and the trail of dark hair peeking from the waist of his breeches...
he crawls onto the bed, kneeling at your feet just as he had done that night many moons ago. except this time, you feel a connection that had not been there before. a heart-racing concoction of heat and nervousness builds in your body, but one thing is obvious in your mind- you want, no, need him to just touch you. he could be gentle, or rough, and you wouldn't mind either way.
both of his hands, large and calloused from years of wielding a greatsword, grasp at your ankles when he speaks, low and angrily.
"your father made you feel this way? shamed you for not being with my child?" his fingers which lock around your ankles grow tighter.
you nod mounfully, those horrible words your father had thrown at you now being repeated for choso. "he said that... if i couldn't give you an heir, you would have no reason to keep me."
for a moment, choso stares at you. you wonder if he even heard you. you shake your head, trying to brush it off. "it's alright, it doesn't matter any more."
in half a moment, his body is on top of yours, his hands now splayed on either side of your head on the downy pillow. "''doesn't matter'?" he echoes. his voice has taken on a more hollow, tortured note. you look up at him, and find his eyes are filled with tears. your husband cries for you, for a moment he never experienced. he had left, to fight a dragon. but you had stayed. "that's why you thought i didn't want you."
your heart clenches at how pained he sounds, upon his realisation. three years of silence, of longing but wanting better for each other has caught up to you both.
his hands come to cup your cheeks, and despite the callouses and scars littering them, he's so soft. his voice is a whisper in your ear. "i went to kill the dragon in your father's place. because i knew that if he had went, the fucking coward he is, he would have failed. and it would have meant a land too unsafe for you to live in,"
his honesty fills in all the lonely gaps, all the spaces in your mind where doubt no longer remained. you listen, finding overwhelming comfort in the way his body feels on top of yours again. it's no longer something scary, but something intimate that belonged only to you.
he continues, his thumb stroking along your cheek. "i had to make it safe. i had to be enough. i made myself lord of redfall, so i was no longer some lowborn mercenary turned knight and be a just a little more worthy of you, before making my marriage offer for you to him," he spits the word out, not caring to even speak your father's name, "i wanted to give you everything. a beautiful castle in a rich land, cover you in expensive dresses and cloaks and jewels. i wanted you to be happy."
unable to contain yourself, you fling your arms around his neck pulling him close. he looks startled at first, but adjusts quickly, careful not to put too much weight on you. you shake your head wildly at his words, determined for him to now know your truth.
"i don't want jewels, or hundreds of dresses, choso!" you protest fervently, eyes blurring and stinging. "i have only ever wanted you. and i wanted you to want me back. can't you see? i love you!"
his lips collide with yours, hands carding through your hair as he kisses you breathless.
"you kept me sane," he mumbles against your lips. the two of you only have your unifying wedding kiss and the several shared on the wet steps outside as practice, so it's messy. teeth clash, spit combines, and his tongue prods at yours. "every day on that dragon campaign. you kept me alive."
his hands fall from your wet hair, and slip the shoulder of your sopping nightgown down to expose skin. you mourn the loss of his lips, but they feel even better attached to your neck, sucking and nipping at every part he could reach. you moan softly, which only eggs him on. his hair drips onto your skin- a droplet hits your cheek, but you don't wipe it away. it's cool, against the fiery heat that spreads from where his lips now move further down.
he kisses the hardened buds at the peak of your breasts through your practically see-through nightgown. his eyes flit to yours, just as his hands have reached the hem of your nightgown, tangled between your thighs. they search for any contour of hesitation in yours. there is none to find.
he peels the wet material from your body, revealing it to him inch by inch until it passes your head and you're utterly bare beneath him. his eyes rake over you, one hand resting on your hip and the other brushing over your nipple.
"choso?" you breathe, which seems to pull him out of whatever thought he'd gotten lost in.
his shoulders, which had been so stiff with anticipation, visibly relax. "i'm sorry. it's been three years since i've seen this sight," he whispers. his lips reattach to your breasts, mouthing at the skin. his tongue flicks at your nipple, and you gasp, burying your fingers in his hair. "i made sure to remember it well, though. the knights probably thought i was looking up at the stars, when we'd sleep out in the open in the fields and valleys. but i was picturing these," he gives a particularly loud suck on the taut, sensitive skin, which mortifies you but only seems to comfort him. "i never got to touch them that day. never got to properly feel you. but fuck, i'd imagine it."
a sticky wetness pools between your thighs, as you imagine him in his tent on the campaign. in this picture, his hand is wrapped around his length, furiously working it over and over. all whilst thinking of you.
"choso, i need you!" you whimper, looking down at where his head rests on your chest. he smiles.
"i would kill that dragon again if i got to hear you say that again." he muses, but you shake your head in an indignant panic.
"no, don't you dare! the thought of another three years-" he quietens you with a soft, hushing kiss. almost innocent, if it weren't for his finger dipping inside you.
your moans grow louder, less breathy, as he moves the digit back and forth, back and forth. you reach for his free hand, bringing it up to your lips and holding it there as a brace for the overwhelming pleasure from his touch. he adds another finger, and you bite. right into the veiny stretch of skin where his thumb connects to his index. he whimpers, you immediately pull away, worried that you may have hurt him.
his fingers never stop their curling and delving inside, even as he speaks though another choked groan, "do that again."
you oblige. biting, then soothing with kisses and licks. a wife serves her husband, you think to yourself, running a long stripe to suck on the tip of his thumb.
when choso's fingers pull from their place inside, and are momentarily replaced by his tongue, you discover exactly how a husband serves his wife.
your thighs press tightly into his head, and his hands move to hold them in pace- spread, so his tongue can freely explore your wet heat. the noises it makes against it are obscene, slurping and sloshing, but it's nothing compared to the ones leaving choso's mouth.
each groan, each whine, sends new jolts of need shooting through you. your own sounds join his, more with every flick of his tongue over a bundle of nerves nestles in your drenched folds.
"choso, i'm going- i need-!" a coil of white-hot heat twists and throbs where his mouth is practically consuming you. it's like he was eating some forbidden fruit, and not-
"your cunt tastes perfect," he groans against it, eyes darting up to your flushed and panting face. "let go, beloved. want to feel it against my face."
your release crashes over, wave after wave of pleasure coming and showing no signs of ebbing. it feels beautiful, and you want more.
he takes a few more moments with you, to the point where there's tears in your eyes and you're pushing his head away with trembling hands. your wetness coats his lips and his chin, his hair is mussed from your wandering fingers, and there's a feral glint in his eyes. he looks like a wild animal.
he sees the way your eyes drop to the bulge in his trousers, and he pulls apart the buttons at his waist. he yanks them off his body, leaving him as naked as you. his cock, now freed, is hard and furious-looking. it leaks, the clear droplets dribbling down the tip along the long, thick shaft. trimmed, tufty brown hair gathers at the base, snaking up a section of his navel.
you want it inside you again. you need it.
his body hovers over yours again, and you feel it prod at the inside of your thigh. you shiver, and your cunt clenches with it, longing to be filled.
his hand strokes through your hair, as he presses his forehead to yours. your nose brushes the scar slashed across his nose, and you nuzzle into it.
"are you sure, my love?" he whispers into your hair. "i know you were scared last time, and i promise i'll make this perfect for you, i just-"
you quieten his rambles with a kiss, which he simply melts into.
"need you, choso. needed you for a long, long time." you admit, feeling the way his cock jolts at your voice and taking a wholly selfish pride in it. you want to make up for every missed moment, every small touch that could have been more.
"i need you," he whispers in echo, his hips shifting until the tip presses into you, slowly and carefully. "i need you, i need you, i need you..."
he trails off into a breathy moan when he starts pushing in, your inner walls clamping down and trying to keep him there. your fingernails rake his back with every inch that floods you, whispering his name in tandem with his desperate chant.
once he's sheathed, the two of you settle quietly. no noise, just held breaths and the feeling of his skin on yours. until you give an involuntary squeeze.
choso's hand fists the pillow beside your head. his teeth are clenched, body taut with tension.
"god, you feel even better than i remember. if you do that again, i'll..." he resorts to breathing into your neck, smelling the remnants of rain and the trickles of sweat, and perhaps a whiff of your perfume. it appears to calm him, his body relaxing into you. his cock remains hard inside you. you can feel it throb.
you think back to the wedding night, and the way he'd spilled his release inside you. it was an act of claiming, a mark of ownership that meant you were his. his wife, and one day, the mother of his children.
he begins to move once you're adjusted. his hips pull away, almost unsheathing himself before pushing back in again. he's not fast, nor slow. just steady, in a way that makes your toes curl.
"choso... you feel incredible..."
he huffs a laugh in your ear. you think that if you heard that again, you'd come. "yeah? fuck, i love this, love being inside my wife," he growls, his thrusts grow faster, harder. "m' gonna keep you in this bed for a week now. have you full of me... all the time."
if it meant you could always feel this way, and feel him, you had no qualms with his proposal.
his hips slice between your legs, his cock delving into your tight heat, which felt like it grew thicker with every thrust. you whine and mewl in his ears, arms curled around his neck as he smothers your face in hot kisses. spit leaks from the corners of your mouths when you kiss, from the way your tongues slide against each other's.
"you have everything, every part of me," he pants against your lips. you wail softly at the loss of his lips, but he shushes you gently. "i know what you said earlier, but i will give you everything i have not given. you need only name it."
your walls clench desperately around him, as you try to speak over the sound of slapping skin and through your own breathlessness. "i want- god- i want-"
"yes- yes, my love, what do you want? i'll give it, fuck, i'll give it all to you."
your face flushes, daring yourself to speak. the words fumble out of you. "i want... i want a baby, choso."
his hips still completely, making you whine in protest at the loss of friction. he'd turned you into a lovemaking fool. sweat beads at his forehead, and he cradles your face in his hands.
"w-what did you say, my wife?" the look in his eyes is wild, and he hangs off your every syllable.
"i didn't get to give you one before," you say shyly, and your eyes make the mistake of darting down, catching on the way his cock is halfway inside and halfway out, slick dripping from the trimmed hair at his base. you swallow, every fibre in your body crying for release and his. "i want to give you everything, too."
you fear you've broken him. his body is tensed everywhere, and his head hangs between the valley of your breasts. when he looks up, his expression has taken on a determined, fierce look. it stirs some primal feeling in you, like suddenly he's become that dragon he hunted, and you're his sparkling horde of treasure, glimmering in pricelessness.
he doesn't give any type his warning before his cock plunges the rest of the way in, back to pistoning inside you and knocking the breath from your lungs as you scrabble to take hold of him.
he pants against your skin, breath steaming and hot. he really was a dragon. "it was you, only you that got me through it all," he growls. "one night, in the mountains, freezing to death. i thought of my wife," your cunt clenches at that, and he whines. his cock pounds into you, and you think his words are the only thing keeping you from going delirious with each stroke. "even if you hated me, just the thought of- fuck!- being near you was enough. and now? my beautiful wife tells me she wants me to put a baby in her belly?"
his kisses are messy, but you meet him halfway with every single one. with each movement, you feel yourself become more tangled in him, as the coiling knot inside you tightens, tightens, and snaps.
your thighs clench around his waist, in a fruitful attempt to slow him down as an incredible, mind-numbing pleasure tears through your insides and clouds every thought in your mind.
"cho- choso-!"
his name from your lips, and the throbbing clench of your walls around his thick length, are enough to make him slam his cock inside, reaching a new depth as he spills everything he has to give inside you. he chokes on air, teeth attaching to your neck in a claiming bite. you feel his warm release coat your insides, and which each throb of it inside you, he begs, "please, please, i love you, i love you," into your ear.
the white-hot pleasure ebbs, leaving a warm contentment to settle in your still-joined bodies. choso gives a groan, leaning to his side and bringing you to nestle into him.
"i love you." you murmur. you feel his cock twitch inside you, amongst the mess he's plugging up.
choso blinks slowly at you, eyes searching your face with the softest of smiles. "i'll never tire of hearing that," he answers. "i have you. finally."
you press a kiss to his lips, all blushing and soft smiles between you. "you always have."
its with that he pushes you gently onto your back once again, thrusting inside with a clement gentleness. whispering sighs fill the bedroom once more, and you smile into the skin of his shoulder.
husband and wife, at last.
a/n: the more i wrote of this the more i want to do some mini bonus chapters bc knight!choso has consumed my brain. anyway hope u enjoyed!
Now that college is out, it's time for you to head back to your little home town hidden away in the shadow of Mount Kikai, and help out in your family's bakery.
Choso's pretty new in town, used to the fast-paced life of Tokyo and it's illegal street racing. But little did he know, there's more to this little town that meets the eye.
Fans of the illusive JDM scene and fine-tuned fast cars lie in wait for the monthly race down Mount Kikai, with both solo drivers and teams vying for local fame.
On this monthly race night, you find yourself challenged by the King of Cursed Drifting himself, Ryomen Sukuna, to a race down the mountain in two month's time. So you enlist Choso Kamo and the rest of the Kaisen Sect, to teach you how to drift.
A rare heirloom automobile, street-racing fame and love await at the finish line...
Drift back to Chapter 1: RUNNING IN THE 90S
Series content: fem!reader, jjk au, multi chapter, fluff, eventual smut, kinda slow burn but Iâm impatient <3, non-canon character (part of readerâs backstory) swearing
2. GET ME POWER
The clock on your phone had just ticked past 2am when you climb into bed that night. You werenât sure how you were going to get to sleep. The eveningâs events repeated like stuck record, stopping and starting and stopping and starting.
You had dropped Riko home a while ago, following a drive back down the mountain listening to her call Sukuna every foul name under the sun and try to make it seem like the situation wasnât too bad. She wasnât the best at comforting you, but she tried.
A part of you wished she had never bullied you into going out- no, it wasnât fair to blame her. Youâd made that decision yourself, to drive up that mountain and subject yourself to the scrutiny of everyone there for driving that car. The car that had caught Sukunaâs, the apparent King of Cursed Drifting, eyes. A man who you didnât really want to know at all, but had forced you to accept his terms. There was no way out.
Your mind travels to Choso, and his act of kindness in offering to teach you so that you wouldnât stall at the starting line. He was under no obligation to do so, and like a lot of people, could have easily stood back and watched you lose the race in two monthâs time. But he stepped forward, and for that you were grateful.
Itâs as though the guy has telepathy, because a moment later a new phone number pops up on the phone screen, with a string of messages attached, rapidly coming in one after another.
hey. hope youâre not too freaked
youâve got nothing to worry about
itâs choso btw
The messages stop after the third, letting you work up the courage to reply. Your state of mind has been pushed too far tonight, and his messages solidify the dreadful truth- tonight was real, and not a crazed figment of your imagination, addled by the all-nighter energy drink withdrawal from coming home from college.
You would be racing Sukuna in two months, who was terrifying enough on his own, even without that blood-red monster he forced to the limit to beat that Geto guy.
This was the same way of life that led to your aunt dying on that very same mountain.
           I canât do this
            Iâm sorry
Your fingers tremble as they hit the âsendâ button. Choso opens the texts almost immediately.
hey
iâm going to help you
meet me at yaga garage tomorrow at 5
bring the car
You leave him on seen, tucking your phone under your pillow and climbing under the covers. You lie awake for hours into to the early morning, wishing it would never come and trying to remember everything your aunt taught you.
You stand outside Yaga garage. Itâs near the centre of town and has a gas station attached. You swear youâve fuelled up here before, so why had you never met Choso?
There are voices coming from inside, beyond the open roller garage door. You poke your head around the corner, wondering if you could pass off as just being a confused customer and theyâd take no notice. But they notice.
The garage is spacious, with a several cars inside in various states. One raised on a lift, another with its entire engine and other innards surrounding it on the floor, and one covered in tarp in the middle of getting a respray. It looked normal, a stark contrast the people working inside.
The white-haired one- Gojo, youâd learned last night- must have the senses of a hawk judging by how fast he notices you peering around the corner.
âHey, itâs her!â
Three more heads whip towards you. The girl whoâs respraying a Hyundai in a pretty shade of pastel purple removes her mask, long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. âFinally!â she beams, making her way over to you.
You try to match the names to the faces, which Choso had pointed to last night. Gojo, the lanky one with dazzling blue eyes that just had to be contacts. Geto, equally as tall but far more mature looking, with a black ponytail, studded ears and an easy-going smile. Shoko, who had a cigarette dangling precariously from her bottom lip and looked as though got the same amount of sleep as Choso. Who was nowhere to be seen.
Shoko, as though reading your mind, grins. âHeâs upstairs. Be down in a minute.â
âCanât believe Kamoâs the one getting to enjoy that sweet car youâve got,â sighs Gojo, as you step into the garage, which smelled strongly of oil and paint. âSo, how did you get it?â His tone is light and airy, but the way his eyes flick to outside the garage door like heâs hoping to spot it gives him away.
Shoko raises her hand. âI wanna know that too. One of the rarest cars ever made, and yet it ended up here?â
Yuki nudges her, whispering painfully loud, âHer family must be loaded, Sho. Thatâs how.â
You step forward to annoyedly interject, âWell, actually-â
Footsteps suddenly thud downstairs, and thereâs Choso in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at the group. âWhatâs going on-?â he starts, right before Geto steps to the side and youâre able to meet his gaze. âOh.â
You swallow. He seems like a nice enough guy, offering to help you out with this⌠situation. But what youâre hoping to find out during this practice is why.
Waving an awkward hello to him, you want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. What were you thinking, going along with this? You should just skip town, change your name, never show your face in public again, avoid Sukuna for life-
âYou ready?â
The others have parted to let Choso through, and heâs looking at you through concerned hazel eyes. His brows furrow in concern. âAre you feeling okay?â
âYou do look a little pale.â Suguru adds, sounding concerned.
A muscle in your jaw ticks. âIâm fine, just⌠can we go? I want to get this over with.â
Choso looks slightly taken aback by your words, but he gives a small nod and begins to follow you out of the garage.
âIt was nice to meet you!â calls Satoru, to which you reply with a strained âYou too!â and duck behind the corner again, to safety.
Youâre not sure what to say, or what you should say to Choso on the short walk to your car. He walks a step behind; his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. Luckily, he takes the first hurdle himself.
He lets out a low whistle at your Nismo, stopping directly in front of the hood. The look in his eyes isnât one of envy, just admiration as they flicker from one part of the car to another.
âYâknow, I had a poster in my room as a kid, with a picture of this car on it.â He says, more to himself than you.
The tattoo which split across the bridge of his nose rises upwards slightly with his eyes, which widen once heâs slid into the passenger bucket seat and looking around the interior. It was strange to have someone else in the car- your parents refused, and Riko had been the only passenger it had seen in many years. But seeing Choso wasnât exactly an unwelcome sight. He looked like he belonged. It pisses you off a little.
You watch him look around for a few moments, taking in the little gemstone charm wrapped around the gearstick, and the couple of faded flower-patterned stickers youâd planted on the dashboard when you would play racer all those years ago. You feel like peeling them off.
A stretching silence is interrupted by Choso clearing his throat. âI know a good place to practice- itâs a little out of town, but itâs got a nice slope to it. Not the same as going down Mount Kikai but⌠itâs a start.â
âRight.â You reply quickly, turning the keys until the engine breaks into rumbles.
The only time Choso speaks is to give directions, and you canât decide whether you preferred it that way. He seemed like a nice guy, but his presence was enough to remind you of the predicament you only wanted to run from.
You take a barely-there glance at him. Heâs looking out the window at the passing scenery, the rolling rice fields in every shade of green you could imagine and the matching hills in the near distance. The twin, spiky ponytails seem to be his signature hairstyle, and heâs got some black ear studs dotted along his lobe and upper cartilage. He looks city.
Your eyes land back on the road, which is dusty and billowing behind the car. Somethingâs playing on the radio, some pop tune that you think you recognise but donât like enough to actually reach over and turn the volume knob.
âTake the side road up the hill. Itâll be quiet, no one uses it.â Informs Choso, to which you give a tight-lipped nod and follow his directions up a winding road up the small mountain. You pull up to a small clearing within the trees at the peak, overlooking the fields and the town encased within the hills. Mount Kikai is recognisable; from the way it looms in the foreground.
You kill the engine and are deafened by the silence.
Your fingers drum on the leather steering wheel as you debate whether to speak first. But it seems Choso is a gentleman in that regard.
He sucks in a breath, before turning to you. âAre you⌠okay?â
Your eyes fly to his, unable to stop the nervous laughter bubbling up through your tight chest and throat. âOh yeah, just great,â your fingers continue to drum on the wheel. âIâve been challenged to a downhill race by some jacked-up asshole whoâs just obsessed with my car, and I have no idea how Iâm going to do it.â
Choso just stares at you, and youâre not sure whether to apologise or roll yourself over the cliff face.
Instead, you groan, forehead landing on the wheel with a soft thunk. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât be mad, youâre helping me. Although I donât know if itâll work- doesnât it take years to learn this kind of drift stuff?â
Choso shrugs, shaking his head. âIt can take a long time-â he pauses to accommodate your drawn-out sigh, âBut thatâs only because most people have to teach themselves this stuff. But youâve got me.â
Heâs right. Youâve got him. Better than being stuck figuring this out for yourself.
You lift your head from the wheel, looking over to him. âHow long did it take you?
âUh, I donât really know. Iâve been driving since I was sixteen- got a little impatient waiting to be officially allowed,â he replies with an embarrassed grin. His hand comes to rub the back of his neck as he looks at you. âBut I only started racing when I was eighteen, so it took me a few years.â
You learn that Choso grew up in Tokyo, although right on the outskirts. Closer to Kawasaki than Tokyo, really, were his words. He has a younger brother, Yuji, and you notice how his eyes light up whenever he talks about him. He drives a Nissan R32, which heâd saved up for years to buy. He tells you how much heâd obsessed over the Nismo 400R for years as a kid, and youâd been unable to prevent a small smile when he told you about the other day, when heâd left work at the garage and seen one drive past right in front of him. Â
âI thought I was dreaming when I saw it. And now, here I am inside it,â he remarks, running a ringed palm across the dash in front of him. âIâve been meaning to ask⌠how the fuck did you get a car like this any way? This model is one of the rarest in the world.â
Your smile fades, expecting the question to have come up eventually, but not quite ready for it all the same.
âIt was my auntâs.â And you leave it at that.
Choso doesnât seem to be the prying type. He only nods, accepting your answer for what it is. Youâre grateful for it.
âDrifting is all about keeping control of the front wheels of your car, and letting the back swing out behind,â Choso explains, as the two of you stare out onto the wide, slightly downhill and curved road ahead. âThe natural instinct when you turn around a corner is to take your foot off the accelerator, but you have to ignore that now.â
Worrying at your lip, you begin driving towards the bend in the road. The closer the turn comes, the more the doubt grows.
âThatâs it,â Choso murmurs, his hand ready to pull the handbrake in an emergency. âAccelerate more. Faster.â
Your knuckles are white on the wheel. âBut what if I lose control? What if I hit the barriers?â
âYou wonât. I wonât let that happen,â he reassures. Itâs ridiculous how relaxed he is, and youâre sitting foot away from him trying to swallow down the bile thatâs threatening to make an appearance. âNow⌠hit the accelerator and pump the clutch. Youâll find a rhythm.â
âA rhythm?!â You squeak incredulously. How are you meant to find a rhythm over the deafening pound against your ribs?
You press down on the clutch as you turn, but you canât help instinctively take your foot off the accelerator at the same time. The engine roars, lurching the car forward into whatâs definitely not a drift and just feels like youâre coming up with a stupid new method of purposefully careening into a guard rail.
Your feet slam onto the clutch and brake pedals. The turn hadnât been too tight, so the fishtailing that Choso had warned you could happen thankfully didnât occur. The seatbelt tightens around your chest, digging into skin through your shirt as the car comes to a sudden but messy stop. The slight whiff of burning rubber slip through the vents. Your first drift. Kind of. Not really.
If you didnât want to look at Choso before, you sure as hell donât want to now.
âIâm sorry.â Is all you can muster, hanging your head in shame.
âAre you kidding me?â you hear him say, and you peek an eye open to look at him. Heâs smiling. âYou did great for your first try! When I tried to do this for the first time, I hit a mailbox.â
You snort, grinning despite yourself. It makes you feel a little better, and you want to try again. So, you try again.
The sky has morphed into hues of deep orange and pretty pink when the two of you decide to call it a night.
As you drive back through the rice fields towards town, your eyes flick once or twice over to Choso, whoâs staring out the window again. Maybe it was his first time seeing a proper countryside like this after living in the city for so many years.
You eventually stop in front of the closed Yaga Garage, the others youâd met earlier having gone home for the night. You spot the Nissan peeking out from behind the garage, the one that made his eyes light up whenever he told you about.
As he moves to open the door of your car, you stop him. âHey,â you start, making him turn to you. You donât know why your throat suddenly dries up. âIâm sorry for how I acted earlier. Iâm just⌠scared. Do you really think I can do this?â
He nods, without pause. âI do.â
You smile, grateful. âSame time tomorrow?â
âSame time tomorrow,â he echoes, before exiting the Nismo. But just before he shuts the door, he leans down to speak to you inside. âText me when you get home, rookie.â
He shuts the door, heading to his car, but not before tuning and giving you a wave.
The drive home from the garage is a little more pleasant than the drive to it earlier, and when you open Chosoâs contact after youâve slipped into bed, you see heâs already texted.
you did really good today
see you tomorrow. come by the garage again
A/N: Heyyyyyy its been like 2 week since the first part i am so sorry </3 Writing this series has been so fun bc I love Choso and Initial D was one of the first anime I ever watched. I've never been a huge car person and idk how to drift irl but i got the basics down from watching it, and the soundtrack slaps (I couldn't resist with the chapter titles)
IT's complicated! (starring nerd!choso x boss!reader)
summary: Choso, a shy IT specialist at Jujutsu Industries, has had a crush on you for years. So when your computer breaks down and you ask him for his expertise, he is determined to try his very hardest to please (and maybe, just maybe, in more ways than one).
content: MDNI 18+, afab!reader, boss!reader, nerd!choso, alt!choso, virgin!choso, no use of ây/nâ, yearning, crushing, verrrryy down bad choso, hair-down choso, pierced choso, glasses choso, nerd!gojo feature, nerd!geto feature, porn with lots of plot, choso sees your nudes and lowkey freaks out (in a good way), oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), handjobs (m!receiving, f!receiving), suspicious activities under the desk, squirting, messy, secretive, dumbification, office sex, semi-public sex, first times, breeding kink, etc.
word count: 9.2k (idek how this happened oops)
author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators! First picture credits is to the talented @einruji07 on X! Also, MDNI!! 18+ only. If you are not 18+ I *will* block you.
choso's friday rotation: Sleepyhead - Jutes, I Want You By My Side - Yuragi, Sextape - Deftones, Drunk in Love - Guitar Version Looped - NovaX, Chokehold - Sleep Token, The Walls - Chase Atlantic, House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls - The Weeknd
The morning genuinely could not have gone rougher.Â
Chosoâs 6AM alarm didn't go off, which meant his meticulous morning routine (fixing his hair into its signature bun, tirelessly trying to wash the sleep from his eyes, and buying Tojiâs shitty discounted coffee from the place next door) was effectively scrapped.Â
The train from his neighborhood to Chiyoda City was packed full, and he couldâve sworn at least six different elbows dug into his back on purpose throughout the entire ride.
And of course, the cherry on top was that it was a Friday, which meant the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Industries was serving free breakfasts today. He knew that as soon as the clock hit 9am, employees from every department would be descending down from their respective floors and into the bumbling cafeteria.
It was ritual; it was community.
It was Kamo Choso's personal hell.
Sure, he could avoid all of this - and his natural instincts would be that he would. But there is something uniquely humbling about being an underpaid IT specialist living in one of the most ridiculously overpriced apartments in Shibuya, that his usual quiet, asocial self could set aside his general temperament for some Friday freebies.Â
He stepped into the already lengthy line, keeping his sleepy eyes glued to his phone screen, his music set to a concerning level, and his earbuds on noise-cancellation.Â
He anticipated this would take fifteen minutes max. Eight to move through the line. Two to figure out what he wanted and grab what he needed. Five to absolutely book it up the stairs to his 4th-floor cubicle. That's what he anticipated. He could do this.
What he did not anticipate was accidentally knocking into, and subsequently flat-tiring, you.Â
You, with your sensual curves and smooth skin and sharp eyes. You, who took one look at the scuff mark he made on your very expensive-looking heels and laughed. You, who, as you now fully turn to face him, smelled faintly of warm rice and deep vanilla, spiced quince and smoked cinnamon.Â
You.Â
You, you, you.Â
The girl he has been harboring the most, painful, humiliatingly pathetic crush on for the past two and a half years.Â
A playful grin formed on your plush lips. Your eyes began to scan him over, assessing. The small stud above his brow glinted to you as if in greeting. His hair, which normally was tied up, was down today, the thick black frames he wore slightly obscuring the pinkish scar that ran across his nose, and his dark lashes were fluttering against his pale skin in a way that made him look so⌠soft.Â
Choso could feel his eyes begin to widen as you took him in. His heart mobilized to his throat, his nape began to prick with cool droplets of sweat. Was he blushing right now or was it just hot? The bustle of the line all but faded away to him.
You began to speak, and it took him several moments before realizing that the pitched ringing in his ears were in fact, not his own deluded creations, but his headphones. His ridiculous, small, obscured headphones that were actively on noise-cancellation mode.
You were talking to him, and he couldn't hear you.Â
Now, this wasn't the first time you and Choso ever crossed paths. The two of you started at the company on the same day, and the both of you were partners during the week-long onboarding program. You captivated him with your casual boldness, magnetic presence, and how just one word from you could command the attention of the entire group.Â
He surprised you with his low voice, observing eyes, sharp features, and the way that he spoke his words with the kind of deep earnestness of someone who has never been burned.Â
You were intrigued.
He was captivated.Â
By the time the onboarding week finished, all the new hires went around the room stating their departments and their title. When it came your time to speak, and the words "Portfolio Management Director" left your oh, so pretty lips, Choso could feel the barriers going up before he could even fully comprehend it.Â
When everyone began to filter out of the room, mingling with the peers they grew acquainted with during the program, all he could do was keep his head down. At the time, all he could think about was how foolish he was to hope that there could ever even be a small possibility with you. Â
He ended up leaving without saying goodbye (admittedly not his best decision), and you watched him go with the smallest traces of hurt squeezing your chest.Â
And so that's why Choso finds himself here, on this Friday morning two and a half years later, flustered, embarrassed, and scrambling to string together one coherent sentence for you.Â
This was worse than his own personal hell. This was abuse and torture wrapped up in one single, harrowing blow.Â
Choso could see you had stopped talking and were looking at him expectantly now.Â
And honestly? You could handle scuff marks and damaged shoes. You could handle snarky colleagues and misogynistic execs. You've fought for your spot (if only everyone could've seen the state you left Zenin Naoya in...) and swiftly climbed your way up the corporate ladder. You were one of the youngest, and most favored, female directors at the company. You could handle your own and pretty much anything thrown at you - but that did not mean you took kindly to being ignored, especially by the regretfully attractive IT geek that somehow left such an impression on you all those years ago.Â
The easy smile you wore slowly began to fall with every passing second of his silence. Behind you, the line began to march forward.
Choso was immobilized. He had to act, and fast. In his fantasies, he would've approached you with the kind of slickness and sex-appeal that Sukuna Ryomen (the notorious office rake) was said to employ at the weekly happy hours (allegedly, according to Satoru). Choso would have wow'd you with his intellect, he would have made you laugh. He would've apologized for his initial lameness after the onboarding debacle all those years ago. He would've found a way to finally get your number, dammit!Â
Instead, all the words he wanted to say were competing for a spot of your attention, and something halfway between a choked groan and garbled sputtering was all that could escape his mouth.Â
Your eyes slightly widened.Â
Choso wished for death to strike him.Â
He could feel the light tapping of the people behind him, urging him to move.Â
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. A mix of something halfway between sympathy and disappointment flashed in your eyes, but you turned around too quickly before he could decipher it. And so he was left standing there, in the middle of the cafeteria with bated breath and a palpitating heart, as you walked up to the continental buffet without so much as a glance back.Â
God, he was truly pathetic. And also so, so incredibly fucked.Â
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý.
"Oh now that's fuckin' gold-" Satoru was barking at this point, laughing so hard his glasses slid down his nose, "-even I'm not THAT bad" his howls echoed throughout the entirety of the IT department's floor. Even Suguru, who was always so neutral in these situations, was chuckling and nodding in agreement as he listened to Choso's embarrassing retelling of this morning's encounter.Â
Choso's face twisted in misery.Â
If he was lamer than Gojo Satoru, who was generally considered as the office's "lamest", then he should just resign the rest of his life to virgin-hood now.Â
Gojo: +10
Choso: -67
With a grumble of the most unsavory curses he knew, and a swift kick to Gojo's long shins (that, satisfyingly, shut him up), Choso got up from his desk for his shift at the tenth-floor IT help station.Â
Which, to both his happiness and dismay, was where all the higher-ups worked. Where you worked.Â
He rubbed his face once, his glasses lifting under his fingers, before staring up at the elevator ceiling.Â
"Please pull yourself together, man" he whispered under his breath.Â
The tenth floor IT "station" was moreso a glorified closet, in his opinion. The only attribute that made it a âstationâ was the one, small service window that one would normally see at drive-thruâs. All Choso had to do for the next 3-hours was sit behind the window and wait for the digital clock to hit 5pm. And normally, his time at the counter would go as it always did: quiet and uneventful.Â
So, was it divine intervention or cruel punishment that led you to walk over to the window at 4pm, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you stood before him for the second time that day?
"Mr. Kamo," you said in greeting. You were still a little peeved from the situation that occurred earlier in the day, and your usual easy tone was replaced with something a touch cooler.
"H-Hi," he breathed. Slick. He coughed before correcting himself, "what can I do for you?"Â
His eyes flickered up at you and then down to his fidgeting hands. He knew he needed to explain what happened earlier. His earbuds, his chronic-lameness, his affinity with making a fool out of himself whenever you were within a four-meter radius.Â
You sighed. "Seems like my laptop decided to give out on me," your lips formed a slight pout and your brows furrowed in cute concern. His heart thumped in his throat. "Think you can fix it?" You raised your eyes to meet his, and he suddenly became acutely aware of just how warm his face was.
He nodded quickly, jerkily. "I can certainly try."Â
You say your thanks softly, just a touch distant, before silently handing him your computer.Â
He flushed in embarrassment as he stumbled to take the device from you. The IT window, though useful, had a worktable on his side. So, he had to extend over the table to get to the counter of the window, where you had placed your laptop.Â
Your eyes furtively stared at the way his surprisingly sculpted arms extended out to reach over. You noticed the soft outline of a scar wrapping around his mid forearm, and the veins that ran down from there and into his large hands.Â
You clear your throat, trying to stop yourself from saying (or moaning) something stupid, and excuse yourself.Â
He was able to diagnose your laptop in a matter of minutes. The internal cooling fan was clogged with dust, and all he had to do was blast it with some compressed air. It was simple, really. He anticipated it would only take him ten minutes to fix the whole thing.
And yet, he sat there stalling.Â
You sat in one of the lounge chairs beside his window, your legs neatly crossed and your manicured nails tapping away on your phone. The sun was beginning to set, and the glow from its light was illuminating you in such a way that it would make it a crime not to stare.Â
âYes, Mr. Kamo?â
You didnât glance up from your phone, but your brows held a light, inquisitive arch. His breath stuttered.Â
âI am so sorry about earlier,â his voice was so gentle you almost missed it. You finally look up. âThe breakfast line this morning. That time from onboarding two years ago-â the thumping of his veins was hard enough to staccato his speech, yet he could not stop now. âI am so sorry. For everything. For your shoes. For acting the way I did. For not saying goodbye. I had earbuds in and-god-I donât know why Iâm soâŚâÂ
âShy?â You offer to him.
âLame.â He mumbles.Â
Your laugh is an angelic ring to his ears, and he watches as your hand covers your mouth as your eyes begin to crinkle. It was hard to stay annoyed when he was so endearing, so earnest with his words. The worry lines on his forehead began to ease, and a relieved smile slowly made its way onto Kamo Chosoâs face for the first time today.
âAll is forgiven-â your smile was small, perhaps even a touch shy. You hesitate, before saying, âthank you, Mr. Kamo.â It was your turn now to not be able to meet his eyes. And though you couldnât bring yourself to say it, the implication of your words hung in the air. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for your courage.Â
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as the sun fully dipped into the horizon. You returned to your phone, and he returned to your computer.Â
And when he finally opened up the casing to clean out your fan, he made sure to leave a section untouched in the hopes that maybe, just maybe you would come back to visit him again.Â
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš â Ý
It was slow at first, but eventually you did return. And then again. And again and again.Â
One time for a docking station. The next, for your headphones (you both laughed). He checked your monitors one week, and your cables the next. It would be something new each time you came rounding the corner.Â
He would often find himself searching for the sound of your heels, like it was a message just for him; something sacred; a secret admission.Â
And every time you came around, you stayed by his window as he worked. You liked to watch the flush that would inevitably creep onto his features, and he liked to relish in your closeness, the smell of your shampoo, the sounds of your bracelets clinking together, and the faces you made as you read through your emails.Â
Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would catch you staring. He smiled more on those days.Â
Somehow, somewhere in those two or so months, the two of you began to ease into each other. You talked more, he stuttered less. Your professional smiles grew into something more unreserved. His anxious hands gradually found peace. Over time, silence turned into polite niceties, which turned into conversations about weekend plans, which turned into gentle teases about music tastes, coffee order skepticisms, and pop-culture references. You surprised him by being a secret gamer. He surprised you by being a shameless sweet-tooth.Â
After weeks of odd-repair jobs flew by, there was probably no other office supplies of yours that Choso hadnât checked.Â
He was sure that the final days of you visiting him were soon approaching, and the thought alone was enough to send him into an emotional spiral all week. He didnât want whatever this was to stop. Your presence easily became the favorite aspect of his routine: a loud part of his normally quiet schedule that he looked forward to every Friday.Â
He just needed to man up. Grow a pair. And if today was his last shot, then he would. And if you didn't show up to his IT window tonight? Then he would finally attend the company happy hours just in case you would be there. And if you were there, then he would approach you at the bar and he would buy you a drink. He would ask for your number. He would tell you to address him casually from here on out. He would, he would, he would.Â
It was ten-to-five, and the twisting in Chosoâs stomach was becoming unbearable. He was all but ready to pack up and sprint to the bar that all the employees went to on Friday nights when he heard the familiar click of your heels as you rounded the corner.Â
His heart was pounding, and he could hear the blood rushing past his ears.Â
âYouâre going to hate me,â you started.Â
Never, he wanted to say in reply.Â
âOh? How so?âFor you? He would do anything. Â
âMy work phone,â you frowned, âIâd hate to keep you late on a Friday night, butâŚâ you softly waved the device in your hand. âThink you can manage?â
The turbulence in his body settled. You were here. He will get your number today. He will ask, after this. His eyes softened, as they normally did whenever you were near, and a smile graced his pretty features. âWhen have I not?â
You laughed and nodded, a touch flushed, biting your lip as your eyes lit up with something warm, something he couldnât place.
A beat passes. Your gaze drops from his eyes, to his lips, then quickly up to the dark piercing by his brow. Were you too obvious? Was he too dense? Â
"My savior." You said it like it was a secret. Breathy, earnest, purposeful.Â
His ears turned another shade redder.Â
You handed your phone to him wordlessly, and his fingers grazed yours. Where yours were warm and smooth, his were cool and calloused. He gulped. You grinned.Â
As you settled down into your usual spot on the lounge chair, laptop opened to your email, he began to assess the damage on your phone.Â
âDo you remember what applications were running before it broke? Helps give me a better understanding of the issue.â He was focused now, skillfully popping off the case and assessing the ports.Â
You hummed. âThe last thing I used was the camera - I was taking pictures of a merger agreement to forward to the legal team.â You checked your watch. âI was hoping to send it all over by 8pm at the latest.â
Though he nodded casually, he couldnât help but be in awe of your composure, your effortless nonchalance with your power and position.Â
As he finally got the screen on your work phone to power up, you began to get a video call on your laptop. You excused yourself, mouthing âSorry, gotta take thisâ to him, before you turned and headed back to your desk. It looked like you were quite busy. He hoped you were taking care of yourself; that you ate something today. He made a mental note for himself to ask you later.
He fiddled with your phone for several minutes. After cleaning out your charging port, plugging your device into power, and doing other general troubleshooting, your phone screen finally lit up with its signature brand logo.Â
Though it lagged, he was able to get to your home screen and look into your settings. After a general inspection of your storage, software system, and other miscellaneous settings, he moved on to your camera app to check if the app would crash like you had mentioned.Â
He truly did not mean to pry. He was just about to close the app when he saw it - the small square photo cover of a folder in your camera roll. The preview was of you. Of your body.Â
And, oh fuck- were these your nudes?
Fuck.Â
He could feel the blood draining from his face... Â
He immediately put your phone down.Â
What the hell was he doing?
You were a distinguished senior-level employee. His colleague. His crush. Dare he say, friend?Â
His very, very attractive friend. Â
He gulped. He could feel his dick pulse in interest, a faint throb that blended with the beating anticipation in his heart.
He slowly picked your phone back up.
He wished he could feel more turmoil; he wished that his morality would kick in and tell him to stop, to tell him to show some sliver of respect for your privacy. But all he could hear was silence in the face of his insatiable curiosity.
You werenât here right now. The call you took seemed important enough to go back to your office for. Perhaps⌠Perhaps he could just reaffirm what he thought he saw?
His pulse was beating so wildly that his heart felt like it was working on overload. With shaky hands, he clicks back into the folder.Â
Fuck.Â
He wanted to cry. He might actually cry.Â
There were only seven pictures total. Before he could think too hard, he tapped into the first one and scrolled through.Â
The first was of you laying on your side, your heavy tits barely held up by the flimsy pink lingerie you had on. His dick lurched in his jeans at the sight of your nipples barely caught on the lace. He could see the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips, the light gloss on your lips.Â
He could feel his hand reaching down to his crotch before he could register what was happening.Â
The hell? This was you? Hidden behind all your smart clothes and persisting authority?Â
His fingers involuntarily squeezed himself through his pants. He could feel the fiery pit in his stomach convulse. He tried to ignore the wet spot that was beginning to form where the tip of his cock kissed his briefs. He continued to scroll.Â
More pictures of your tits, some with them squished together, some with them spilling over your purposefully small tops. Once he got to the ones of your ass, he had to stifle a surprised groan with a choked cough. The slutty thongs you wore almost made him pass out. One pair was made of only cross-linking satin strips. Another was just translucent lace. Regardless of material, he was transfixed by the way they got swallowed up by the expanse of your plump, juicy, impossibly round ass.Â
And then he got to the video. The video.Â
His heart was wild against his ribs. A vibrator was between your legs. Your thong shoved to the side. Your wetness was soaking the fabric so thoroughly it was see through, and your slick was coating the tip of the device until it shined. Your nipples were hard and peaking through the tops of your bra. One hand was pumping two fingers into your pussy, and the other held the vibrator to rub against your swollen clit.
It was so obscene. So dirty. So fucking erotic.Â
He did not know what took over him, but he could not stop himself now. His pants were unzipped, briefs shoved down, cock fully exposed underneath his worktable. He was jerking himself off like he was possessed, drunk off of the way you looked on the screen. His dick was heavy, thick, and hot in his hand. The mushroomed tip was angry and red, rubbed raw by the friction of being trapped in his underwear. He was leaking such an embarrassing amount that he wasnât entirely sure if it was pre or if he literally came untouched in his pants without realizing.Â
He could hear your low pants coming from the screen, and the shlk shlk shlkkk of your nimble fingers fucking inside of yourself. He had to clench his jaw so hard that the veins in his neck were surely popping out, just to stop himself from making noise. Each time you rubbed the slickened vibrator against your cunt, and it partly disappeared between your pussy lips, his own dick bobbed with fresh waves of need.Â
What the hell were these doing on your work phone? Was this even your work phone?Â
His forehead was lightly damp now. His chest was heaving. His face was so fucking flushed. His heartbeat felt so loud in his ears that he couldnât hear the faint clicking of your heels as you returned to him.Â
â...Mr. Kamo?â
His face snapped up. You were standing directly across from him, the only thing separating the two of you being the service-window wall. A beat passes, and your video is still playing on loop in his hand.Â
Your lips part in slow recognition, but the shadow of something indecipherable flickers across your features.Â
The world around you both seems to still, the Tokyo nightlife all but muted in the bubble that formed between you and him.Â
He sat frozen as you wordlessly walked up to, and opened, the door to his IT room.Â
It only took you two steps inside before you slowly dropped to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. With your field of vision lower now, you could see his large hand still fisting his dick underneath the table.Â
And⌠Holy shit. He was so⌠large.Â
You donât realize you're gulping.Â
You donât realize that youâre salivating.Â
This fucking nerd was packing⌠what? Nine full inches and then some?
Your wide eyes look back up to him, and he stares back with something akin to both utter humiliation and desperation.Â
âI never got to properly thank you for all your help these past few months,â you whisper.Â
Wait, what?Â
Before his delirious brain could process the implication of your soft words, youâre leaning in to lick up the salty pre that pooled at the base of his cock, slurping at the excess, and licking allllll the way up to the pulsing head. Â
Your tongue was so soft, so ridiculously fuckinâ wet.Â
And Choso was so taken by surprise, so dazed by the fact that this was his reality right now, that his jaw slackened, and a fuckinâ whimper escaped his throat.Â
You began to trace the veins on his dick and he couldâve sworn he saw stars.Â
You took your time, languidly finding a path up up, up. By the time you made it to the tip, he thought he was going to cry (he was unsure if he already was), until you wrapped your plush lips around the underside of his mushroomed cockhead, putting delicious pressure on his most sensitive area. Â
âPut your hands on me,â you almost whined it out, the tip of his dick still bobbing shallowly in your mouth. Like you didnât want to let go; like you didn't want even a moment of it not resting heavily on your tongue.
Before he could comply, the distant whirring of a vacuum echoed somewhere down the hall.Â
âOh fuck-â his eyes were wild, and his breathing ragged and erratic. Was it panic from potentially getting caught? Or was it the selfish idea that the thought of you stopping now might actually kill him? That whatever trance you both were under would break, and that you would walk out and take all of his heart with you?Â
He looks down at you, and in his panicked state he didnât realize you were grinning.Â
âWhat are you-?âÂ
The whirring was getting louder. You crawled under the table and settled between his spread legs.Â
Oh.Â
Oh.Â
He felt like he was going to go insane.Â
You rested your cheek against his thigh, and looked up at him through your lashes. Your eyes were glazed, your lips rouged and spit-slickened. You were mesmerizing, and it almost killed him to look away.Â
In the distance, he could see the nightly custodial crew rounding the corner and walking down the hall, their vacuums roaring loudly against the polished floors. Â
You began to push his flared cockhead further into your mouth, until it was just kissing the smoothed back of your throat. He choked on a moan, one hand gripping onto the workstation ledge, the other flying to your hair. The echoes of footsteps were growing louder, and the roars of the vacuums were quickly nearing. And yet, this only seemed to make you needier, hungrier.Â
Your head was bobbing rhythmically, unrelentingly, addictingly, under the table as you sucked on his hard length. He was just so warm, so thick and hot and heady, and you were beginning to lose your sanity over the feeling of his cock filling your mouth so completely and overwhelmingly, shutting you up.Â
Your lashes were damp with stray tears. Choso wondered how it would look to paint your face with his cum, or if you preferred to take it down your throat-
âWould you like us to clean inside there, sir?â
He sputtered dumbly. âHuuh-?âÂ
The custodial team stood about four meters away, pausing their vacuuming activities briefly as they stared at him curiously.Â
âN-no. No Iâm good. All c-clean over here.âÂ
You made it a point to slurp lightly - just loud enough for him alone to hear. You were slobbering now, drool and spittle dripping from your chin, messily mixing with his creamy pre down the length of his cock, and all over his balls.Â
He fisted your hair in warning, his jaw ticking with tension.Â
He knew he probably looked ridiculous to the custodians right now, maybe even sick with how flushed and sweaty he was. He was pretty sure that his lower lip was split with how hard he was biting them. His glasses were slightly fogged on the lower edges, and his chest was heaving in a way that made him look like he just ran a marathon.Â
From his peripherals he could see your wicked smile as you popped off his dick, gingerly mixing the wetness all over, two slippery hands jerking him off, twisting under the capped head, in a slow, teasing, mind-numbing pattern.Â
The custodians shrugged, before turning around and heading off for the night.Â
And as they left, something inside his mind snapped. Something possessive, perverted, and deranged.
âYou playinâ with me?â His eyes were wild. Gone was his professionalism, his shy resolve nowhere to be found. His heart was pounding. He needed you.
âFinally got the hint?â You shoot back, challengingly.Â
He huffed out a breath of warm air, before firmly gripping your throat and shoving your mouth back onto his cock. You readily latched on, sucking and licking and moaning, one hand massaging his balls, the other twisting over whatever exposed length was left of him.Â
Your tongue was unrelenting, and he was bucking up, abusing your throat. He loved the way your throat bulged at every snap! of his hips, as he shoved his long, fat dick down, down, down. So far gone was the shy man you met every past Friday. His eyes were now glazed and glassy, his lips bitten completely red, sweat rolling hypnotically past his brow piercing and along his sharp jaw. He was drunk off the way your mouth felt. Drunk off the way his dick was using you. Drunk off the way you look; broken, teary-eyed, mouth gagged, and throat bulging with his heavy cock buried inside.Â
Before you know it, he's slipping out, one hand on your throat to keep you still, while the other wraps around the base of his cock. He slaps his wet dick against your cheek, before rubbing and sliding himself along your smooth skin. Your legs clench as you realize from base to tip his cock is as big as your head. And when you looked into his eyes, you could tell he saw it too. He wasnât looking at you though, you realized. He was looking at himself. He wasn't just tapping his dripping cock against your flushed skin. This twisted motherfucker was measuring.Â
âHeh- Iâve never felt a pussy before,â he continues his rocking against your face, âdâya think itâll fit?â
Your eyes widened. This man, with his pierced ears and studded brow, muscular arms and ginormous cock, was a fucking virgin?Â
Surely, he was lying. He had to be.
But as you assessed him, his wrecked and earnest features, there was no doubt that he wasnât telling you anything but the hard, honest truth.Â
âI-â your heart does something funny in your chest, while a fresh wave of slickness soaks your already drenched panties. You address him with equal earnestness, âI guess youâll just have to find out for yourself, Choso.â
And oh, he was a goner. He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, how casually you addressed him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy now.Â
âDoes the window close?â You ask. You were still under the table, and completely oblivious to the way his heart felt like it was exploding behind his ribcage.Â
âY-yeah,â he nodded quickly, jerkily. Dazed and partly delirious.Â
He shoved himself back into his pants, not caring to button as he pulled his long, black shirt down enough to cover himself. He stood and leaned over the table, sliding the service window shut and pulling the metal security shutters down. You crawled out from under the table as he went and locked the door.Â
It was well past 7pm at this point, and the usual office stragglers were long gone by now. The two of you were alone.Â
He lends you his hand and you take it. Your manicured fingers swallowed by his scarred and calloused ones.Â
Your knees crack as you stand to your full height. He reaches to wrap his hands around either side of your throat, his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks.Â
âLet me kiss you,âÂ
It wasnât even a question. His brain was too consumed in the haze of you, you, you.Â
Your chest rose and fell. Your hands found his biceps, and you slowly slid them up, up, up to his shoulders, then to his chest, feeling the hidden muscles of his upper body.Â
You hooked your finger in the collar of his shirt, before tugging, bringing him close enough that your lips were brushing his. Â
You looked up at him through your lashes, a sly smile creeping onto your features, âIâll think on it.âÂ
He groaned. His forehead pressed against yours. The tip of his nose softly tracing yours. You were both so close to each other that your lips would brush from the smallest of movements.
His fingers moved from your throat and into your hair, and you could feel him rutting and rubbing his throbbing erection against your leg in the most desperate, pathetic way.Â
âFuckinâ tease.â
Your heart was beating so traitorously loud against your chest, and the pressure building in between your legs was making you ache, your pussy clenching at the feeling of being without.
You smile at him wickedly. âEarn it then.âÂ
And before he can think, youâre dragging his shaky hand between your thighs, your skirt riding up, up, up past your legs, before scrunching around your waist.Â
He might pass out.Â
Because here you were - tits pressing against your tight button down, nipples raised through your bra, lace covered cunt exposed, and ass only half-covered by your bunched up skirt.
And when he finally, finally dips his trembling fingers just underneath the absolutely soaked lace of your panties, grazing your poor, neglected pussy, you sigh out the most breathy, sinful sound in his ear. Could one get infinitely times harder? He couldnât tell. But he was starting to feel lightheaded with how much blood was rushing from his head to his cock, which was flaring with the freshest waves of need.Â
âI- Iâve never done this before,â he said it as if in a trance. His eyes were glassy. He looked hypnotized, almost possessed by the way the tips of his fingers were drenched in your wetness, how your pussy lips were greedily sucking him in so desperately, how they made the prettiest squelch! as his finger got devoured, inch by fucking inch, by your warm, velvety walls.Â
Your eyes rolled back and your mouth parted in the most sensual âoâ that heâs only ever seen from stuff online. He felt the air get knocked out of his lungs. All of his college âexperiencesâ (if he could even call jizzing untouched and awkward blow jobs milestones in his sexual portfolio) paled in comparison to the display that your pussy was showing him right now. He used his thumb to spread your lips apart, watching his fingers disappear in and out, in and out.Â
Fuck.
And then he was everywhere.Â
He has your shirt ripped off in seconds, your bra shoved down. His unoccupied hand is squeezing one of your tits, while his mouth latches on to the other, sucking and biting your nipples in a way that has your toes curling, and - did Kamo Choso have a tongue piercing??Â
Below, his one finger became two, jamming into your tight, tight hole, before pumping in and out, in and out in the most depraved way. And when he accidentally crooked his fingers, massaging and fucking into your most sensitive spots, you moaned, your red nails scraping against his broad shoulders.Â
âTouch me here too,â you all but gasp out, your delicate hands moving his thumb to rub circles against your clit, just as you had done in the video he watched of you on your phone earlier.Â
Ever the most astute student, he listened to your every word. He made note of the things that had you going stupid, and changed gears when you tapped him on his biceps. He was a quick study (a bona fide geek after all), and soon he found the most relentless, ruthless, dumbifying tempo that he had you fucking squirting and spraying all over his wrists and down onto the floor below. Â
And then heâs pushing you until your ass is leaning against the workdesk. He spreads your legs apart and drops to his knees. When he stared up at you, he looked so, so gone.
His glasses were smudged and pushed up, the tip of his scarred nose nudged your clit, and his pink lips opened to dip his soft tongue against your folds. The cool metal ball of his tongue piercing the only solace against ur blazing skin. Itâs his turn to slurp you up, and god how you tasted-Â
One of his hands is firmly gripping your thigh, his face disappearing completely as his mouth is on your cunt, kissing and licking and sucking and massaging. The other is fisting his leaking cock. You tasted so fuckinâ good on his tongue. So warm. So wet. So sweet. He could do this forever. He would beg to do this forever.
âHave I-â he hiccupped, âhave I earned it yet, sweetheart?â His glasses are wet with your juices. Heâs panting, warm puffs of air hitting your core.Â
You were shaking. Yeah, yeah. He earned it.Â
âYes, yes Cho-â your praises of him blended together, spilling and slurring out of your mouth without pause.
âThank god.â
And then heâs back at it, eating you out so good, his tongue bullying inside of your tight hole. The scar on his nose fully rubbing against your clit, finding home on your body. And you feel it - your legs beginning to shake, your heart pounding in your throat. Youâre panting, whining, holding his head to you like youâll keep him there and suffocate him. The overwhelming waves of your orgasm crashing into you as he fucks his tongue into your greedy pussy, lips latched on and giving the sweetest suction.Â
Your hands are in his hair, your vision blurred and teary, youâre calling out his name like its religion.Â
And him? Heâs trying to memorize the way your walls clench around his tongue, begging for him to stay, keeping him inside you. Heâs trying to burn into memory the way youâre fuckin gushing wetness all over his chin, the way your tits bounce up as you arch your back in the most sinful way.Â
Only after you come down from your high, Choso finally stands. He rests his two palms on the table space on either side of your thighs, caging you in, before resting his damp forehead in the crook of your neck.Â
âThank you,â he murmurs into your skin, his soft lips kissing against your jugular.Â
âDonât thank me yet,â you tease. Your hands find his hair, lightly running your fingers through his scalp before saying, âwe arenât even close to being done.âÂ
He looks up at you curiously, innocently. âWe⌠can do more?â
Oh, so he seriously was a virgin.
âChoâŚâ His knees weaken at the nickname. âWeâve just barely begun.âÂ
He involuntarily bucks his hips at your response, rubbing his painful erection against your leg. His briefs were wet and stained with pre. You lifted his shirt above his head. He pulled your soaked panties down your damp legs.Â
You were still sitting on the worktable, your legs ajar, and your pussy a sloppy mixture of your release and his own saliva. He nudges the tip of his length to kiss against your hole. A deep, choked sigh escapes his mouth at the softness of your pussylips, the slipperyness of your wetness, the warmth that radiated from your core and onto his weeping dick.Â
He slips his cock against your folds, teasingly gliding against your clit as he pulses against your skin. Chosoâs lips catch your own, his tongue massaging yours, while his hands grope your sensitive, swollen breasts.Â
âF-fuuuh,â heâs whimpering into your mouth, lips wobbling, so fuckinâ overwhelmed by the insane sensations of your pussy rubbing against his dick, your mouth moving against his own, and your tits, god your tits, in his large, shaky palms.
And he canât help it, really.Â
His dick was still jerking like crazy from the head you gave him earlier. Your soft pussylips were slathering him in your juices, your tongue licking his tongue piercing like you did his cock, and your nipples so peaked he wanted to suck on them.Â
So itâs no surprise, really, when his meaty dick started to leak slow ropes of his sticky, thick cum against your outer folds.Â
And you were still making out with him when you realized, the warm gooey feeling spurting out onto your hole was coming from him, that your breath caught in your throat - a soft gasp leaving your mouth as it got swallowed by his languid tongue.Â
He was so pathetic, he thought.Â
He just came before he even stuck it in.
He pulled away from your mouth. âI-â he was humiliated, face burning with shame, glasses fogged and head facing towards the floor. He was searching for the right words, when you grabbed his still hard penis and gave him the same smile he saw before. The kind of smile you gave when you got on your knees and crawled under the desk.Â
You lightly push him until heâs sitting on his wide, creaky work chair. You slide off the worktable gracefully, before joining him. Youâre straddling him, tits skimming his chest, his dick standing tall between the two of your legs. Though you havenât said it outright, the implications of your actions hang heavy in the air; he knows - he realizes what you want, what he wants, and what will inevitably happen.Â
âIf you donât want this, say it now,â you say.
His eyes were big, and heâs staring at you so reverently, like you were a goddess, his goddess. He shakes his head.Â
âUse your words, Cho,â you rest your hand on his throat, your manicured thumb parting his wobbly lips.Â
He was pathetic. But you loved it.Â
He had tears in his eyes and he had no idea why. Perhaps from humiliation. Perhaps from overstimulation. Perhaps from the fact that the hottest girl heâs ever laid eyes on was about to fuck his brains out and leave him stupified beyond belief. Probably most definitely the latter. âI want this,â he gasps out. âI want you - fuck - I need you, to be inside you, ple-â
You shut him up with your mouth, massaging and leading and biting. Your hands slowly traverse from his neck and down his hard chest, past his abs, before resting at his base, fingers tangling in the tufts of dark hair there. He was still covered in his own cum, white and warm and sticky against your palms.Â
âDonât worry,â you were almost purring against his red, swollen lips. âIâll take good care of you.â
And now youâre tipping the head of his cum-covered cock towards your glistening hole, and he feels like heâs going dizzy.Â
Holy shit, this was it. Itâs happening.Â
You break away from him, and the two of you stare as you drag his gooey-covered cockhead allllll around your pussylips, leaving even more mess in its trail. And when his hard length dips slightly into your folds, his mushroomed tip kissing against your entrance, he could swear he almost blacked out.Â
âYouâre so big, Choâ you cutely pout. His dick throbs before swelling even larger at your words. âItâs even better than Iâve ever imagined.â You say the last part quietly, reverently, almost shyly.
And, holy hell, that does something to him.Â
Choso involuntarily bucks at the thought of you thinking about him, about his dick, just as how he thought of you for all these years, and the tip of his cum-covered cock slips right into the tight ring of your pussy without warning.Â
Your head knocks back as his own falls forward, the two of your hot breaths puffing into the heady air.Â
You were gasping. Even though it was just the head, it felt like you were being stretched beyond belief, your walls wrapping around and latching onto his length so snuggly, so⌠deliciously, that it had Choso whimpering into your bare tits.Â
You were greedy, slightly possessed, and fuckinâ hungry. You roll your hips forward slightly, pushing his throbbing cock another inch deeper into your gummy pussy, and his hands find purchase on the fleshy curve of your ass. âCâmon now,â you say slyly, âI know my good boy can take it.â
His dick jerks at your words. You have Choso seeing stars. He thinks his hearing was starting to go in his left ear. Heâs drunk, heâs addicted, heâs⌠heâs not even halfway inside you yet and he feels like he is teetering on the edges of his sanity.Â
âS-stop teasing me,â he almost cries it out. His fingertips kneed into your ass. He wants to bottom out completely inside you. He wants to feel so impossibly close to you that he forgets his own name, that he forgets where his body ends and yours begins.Â
And you comply. You always would, for him.Â
He watches as his dick gets swallowed by your stretched lips. The residual cum on his cock from earlier either smears inside you or begins to froth at his base. And you feel so fuckinâ good, your greedy cunt sucking up every inch of him until heâs finally, finally, bottoming out into your warmth.Â
âThaaatâs it, Cho,â you can feel his leaking tip smooching against your cervix, the veins on his dick pulsing against your gummy walls, the residual cum from earlier clinging to your clit. Youâre gushing new waves of slick, and he feels how you convulse around him, squeezing tight against his meat like a fuckinâ sin.Â
You donât even give him time to breathe, to even think, because you begin to ride him like a fuckinâ animal, like a goddamn pro. Your tits are bouncing in his face, your ass clapping against his thighs, his cock filling you up like itâs ritual, and his tip fucking into your g-spot savagely, ruthlessly, unforgivingly. Before you know it, heâs bucking his hips up to meet yours, the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the small space of the IT room.Â
Heâs panting your name like a prayer, his hands holding you like you were something sacred, and his heart pounding against his ribcage like heâs at confessional.
And yeah, he may have never done this before, he may have never felt the embrace of a womanâs pussy on his cock - but he knew immediately, decisively, that yours was the best. He knew that everyone elseâs would pale in comparison. And he knew, deep down, that when this is all over, he would be jaded and lost from mourning the feeling of you. He knew yours would be the only one he would search for in his life.Â
âCho,â you whisper, voice catching and breaking with every thwk thwk thwk! of his balls slapping against your ass. âYouâre doing so well,â you hiccup, partially delirious. âI can feel you allllll the way up here.â And then you drag your manicured nail from where the two of you were connected, juices wetting your fingerpads, as it rose all the way up, up, up, to the slightly protruding bump in your belly. You press your hand on it lightly, and he realizes that the bump is from him, from where his achingly large cock was shoved inside you and pressed against your womb.Â
He can feel his cock rush with blood, growing larger in your belly, filling and stuffing you even more fully - completely. And you feel it too. He breathes through his nose, small traces of drool slipping from the sides of his mouth. You squeeze your tits together, giving him a show.Â
Heâs dangerously flushed, sweat (or was it tears?) running down his cheeks. Youâre gushing fresh wetness all around his dick, your warm walls clinging to him so needily, almost possessively, as the tip of his cock pounds against your most sensitive spot until it's bruised. And heâs leaking so much pre that the mixture begins to slather so messily around your glistening hole, frothing at his base and running down his balls.Â
It was so filthy. So dirty. So fucking addictive.Â
His mouth finds the sensitive buds of your nipples, his piercing flicking over the stiffened peaks. One of his hands rubs your combined juices into your swollen clit, while the other grabs on to the fleshy parts of your ass.Â
Its your turn to cry out, to whimper at the sensations of his steady hands against your blazing skin, his pulsing cock inside your squeezing pussy.Â
âThaaatâs it pretty girl,â he breathes. He leaves your nipples to suck on the sensitive skin by your ear. âMy pretty girl. This what you were lookinâ for?â
He snaps his hips up, balls spanking your ass. His thick cock burrowing impossibly further inside of you.
Your words come out garbled - halfway between pleading and praise.Â
He grins at you.Â
âUse,â he pulls his cock out almost completely, your quivering pussy squeezing so tightly around the head of him, as if begging him not to leave.Â
âYour,â he finally pulls away with a grunt.
âWords,â he smacks his fat, heavy, dripping cock against your entrance. The sound it made left your ears buzzing.Â
âPretty girl.â Heâs shoving into you so fast you feel him in your fucking lungs.
Heâs gripping your hips, using his strength to fuck your body on his cock. He was handling you like you were a sex doll.
What the fuck? This was the same nerd from before?Â
Your tongue meets his, and youâre messily making out with each other: you lick his tongue like youâre licking his dick, and he grabs your throat to pull you away, before spitting into your mouth. Drool spills from your lips and onto your chins. Heâs pulling you onto his dick like you were a toy, only pausing briefly to spank your ass and feel it jiggle against his thighs.Â
Your actions were getting clumsier: nails scratching randomly at his chest, tongue licking messily up his throat, moans echoing off of his damp skin. His hips were beginning to stutter: his dick was fucking into you in a broken rythm, mushroomed head blooming with every pulse. You both were teetering around the edges of your sanity, and the only sounds between you were sharp breaths and the slapping of your soaking cunt against his soaked cock. Â
âFuck, Iâm-â his throat squeezes, every word a battle to get out. He forces his bleary eyes open to watch his dick disappear inside you - fucking into your womb again, and again, and again. He feels his balls beginning to tighten, his shaft becoming taught. He needs to cum. He needs to pull out.Â
And he starts to - when your hand tightens around the back of his neck.
âDonât you, oh,â there's tears streaming down your face, your eyes glassy, your head spinning with how cockdrunk you were, âdonât you fuckinâ dare, Cho.â
Heâs so dumbified it takes him several moments to register the implications of your words.
âI-inside?â Heâs stuttering, trembling.
âInside.â
And then he breaks, and you break around him. Heâs releasing so much of his thick, gooey cum inside you that it swells in your tummy, bloating your core. He watches as you squirt and spray and spasm around his base, fresh waves of wetness soaking the expanse of skin between you both. His hips keep snapping up with each peak of your orgasm, fucking his seed deeper and deeper, fucking himself so hard into your body until it feels like you can taste him in your throat.Â
Neither of you say a word, both of you transfixed on the way that the other feels. You were so stuffed that his cum began to leak out of you, slowly falling and pooling at the base of his cock.Â
âYou⌠you are so divine,â he whispers, his hips still lightly rutting inside you, catching the last waves of your peaks, as he kisses along the base of your jaw.Â
You canât speak, your throat felt too hoarse, you were too too dazed, too fucked-out. But you nudge your nose against his, your lashes fluttering against his clammy skin.
Gently, he lifts you from his cock. He watches as you slowly release his dick, before a gush of his seed spills from your swollen pussylips.Â
âHoly shit,â he muttered, his thumb immediately catching the gobs of his oozing seed.Â
Without a word, you catch his careful fingers, and he watches in fading confusion as you push his thumb back inside you, bringing his cum along with him.Â
âNo waste,â you whisper.Â
Oh.
And after some recuperation time, you both stand and begin to dress in silence. Something tender hangs heavy in the heady air of the IT room, but Choso canât help but feel the pricks of anxiety blooming in his chest with every passing second.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he asks for your number.
And your swollen lips break out into the prettiest smile, your eyes twinkling up at him.Â
âIâll think on itâŚâ you tease. He grins, his hands find your waist to pull you closer to him.Â
âWhat do I gotta do to earn it this time?â
You tap your chin in mock thought, your smile light and warm. âCome get dinner with me tonight.â
And for you? He would do anything. Â
. Ýâ âš . Ý âĄ Ý . âš ââ Ý.
Several weeks have passed, and Chosoâs morning genuinely could not have gone better.Â
Not only did his 6AM alarm go off, but you had slept over last night (and yes, falling asleep cuddling with his dick inside you did contribute to both of your fantastic moods). His morning routine was now a mixture of staring at your pretty face whilst in peaceful slumber, going through a 6-step skincare routine (courtesy of you), and picking up Tojiâs overpriced top-line coffee for two.Â
Though the train from his neighborhood to Chiyoda City was packed full today, he did not mind. It gave him more of an excuse to huddle closer to you, hands brushing together, one of his earbuds in your ear (the other in his) as your joint playlist hummed in the background. Your chest was lightly pressed against his, two wild hearts beating to the same, familiar tune.Â
And of course, the cherry on top was that it was a Friday. The two of you had agreed that it would finally be okay to get breakfast together today, and maybe even sit and eat at a window table afterwards.Â
And Choso? Choso was the happiest he has ever felt. Largely due to you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part due to the fact he got to see Gojoâs ridiculously large mouth fall to the floor at the sight of you and Choso walking in together today.Â
âśď¸ď¸ Wicked Games (starring . nerd!choso & frat!choso)
synopsis . In which you have the Kamo twins wrapped around your pretty finger. You tell them that youâre not theirsânot officiallyâand for a time, it works out. Choso (nerdcho) was your sweetheart of a project partner who was steadily falling for you and Kaiso (fratcho) was the younger twin who finds your side at every party you attend. What could possibly go wrong with two brothers who had no idea they were sharing the same girl?
content . afab!reader, slight pining, college au, drama, alcohol, public sex, obsession, reader is kinda two-timing them, filth, messy relationships, gojo twin mentions (more specifically fratjo), brat taming (kinda), possessiveness, slight bimbo!reader, clueless wingman yuji, some gen z humor, mentions of drugs (weed), hair pulling, brief toji cameo, biting, spitting, sharing a drink through kissing, oral sex & fixations with it, they both have piercings, mirror sex, literally getting passed back and forth, reader is greeeeedy, the twins get pussydrunk, rough sex, degradingâthey're kinda mean when they're together, dirty talk, eventual threesome, throat fucking, praise, surprise ending/cameo (heh), etc.
word count . 9.2k || author's note: banner art by @/enruji07 on twt!! ty to everyone who voted on tht poll of mine, you KNOW i had to write this as a certified choso girly. not proofread, truly sorry for errors in advance..!
Well, for starters, one was never going to be enough for you.
You figured that much out on the first day you laid your sweet eyes on Choso Kamo, the grungy yet shy-looking guy who sat beside you in your biochem class. While he was focused on every annoyingly long lecture presented by the professor ahead, you spent most classes utterly distracted by him.
Luckily for you, your biochem professor seemed to have noticed this and kindly paired the two of you up for the big project due at the end of the semester. You didn't even have to do anything to find an excuse to talk to him!
A similar thing took place with his twin brother Kaiso Kamo, who you danced your way into at some frat party. While you technically set your sights on him earlier that nightâinitially mistaking him for Chosoâit was nice how you didn't have to go out of your way to meet him either.
Were you really in the wrong for wanting both?
ââ
Short answer: no, not at all!
Long answer: maybe a little...
In the beginning, you had no intentions of breaking their hearts or making them feel like fools but⌠fairly enough, there was something rather thrilling about going from one twin to the other. Their mutual cluelessness was an added bonus to your whole scheme.
Something that gave your heart an addictive rush whenever you almost got caught.
You wouldnât have done it if you were in a confirmed relationship with one of them, of course. But the Kamo twins lack of formally asking you out was probably a big reason why you never felt bad switching between them.
Currently, you sit tucked away in the deepest corner of your campusâs library. The smell of old paper and dust shrouds the air surrounding you and Choso, who you're side by side with as he helps you study for an upcoming exam.
When you texted him, you told him you wanted to work on the project you both had due. But when he showed up with his hair pulled up into those perfectly messy pigtails, his glasses framing the dark browns of his eyes, and a clean long-sleeve white shirtâsmall cup of coffee in hand, you'd forgotten all about that silly project.
The desire to listen to him explain something to you blossomed within you upon watching him near your corner of study. Even as he softly hummed, "Sup," as if your relationship as project partners hadn't changed weeks prior to this, you couldn't help but want something else out of this session.
It started out with you suggesting that you both study together instead of troubling yourselves with an assignment that wasn't due for another two months. And the two of you were actually fairing through one another's notes pretty well!
Y'know, until you chuckled at a spelling error of his and he awkwardly shifted in his seat, glancing off as he sighed, "You're distracting me."
Small phrases like that had steadily become some sort of code between you and the studious man.
All you did was laugh and now he was avoiding your gaze to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks. Choso could be somewhat of a loser in that regard but you'd be lying if you said you didn't like that about him.
"Distracting you how?" You snort, eyes flicking up from the boring pages of problems that sat in front of you. You idly twirled your pencil around your fingers, another thing that unknowingly kept Choso from his focus.
Truth be told, you could do anything and his mind would begin to wonder.
Before now, quiet moments of study between you both never dipped past a careful attachment of lips every once 'n a while. Things with this twin usually happened all slowly, as if the man was scared to take it any further with you.
There was once a time where you were literally in his lap as you made out and yet the moment he got hard, he was quick to say that the two of you should stop there.
Not today though, as he had something a little different in his mind.
You caught it in the way his head slowly turned to face you, his eyes flashing something different under the dim lights of the library. His steady hands seemed unnerved as they tapped across the table in tandem with the steady increase of his beating heart. You saw the way he got nervous before saying anything.
"You know how," Choso started, just barely allowing himself a second too long to stare at you.
Your brows push together as you peer at him straight on, "No, if I knew how I wouldn't have asked, silly."
His eyes dropped to your mouth then, tracing the delicate outline of them and not being shy at all when it comes to showcasing where his thoughts had run off to. You could practically see the way he envisioned being more bold with you, more declaringâthe way confidence was a fleeting conundrum for the poor nerd, everpresently there when he didn't need it to be and nowhere of note when he craved it most.
If kissing you and showering you in whispers of how badly he needed you were some sort of equation to solve then it would be a walk in the park for him. But, in his mind, it was everything but. There were too many factors to consider when it came onto you.
The main one being how much of a fool he'd make of himself if he pushed forward now.
Your scrunched brows and innocently curious eyes make his heart feel all knotted in his chest, anxiety crawling through his nerves in a way that made him wish he never said anything in the first place. The two of you had only kissed a couple times and each one was initiated by you.
But nowâhell, from the moment you texted him and suggested studyingâhe could only think of one thing. He hasn't been able to get you out of his head the past few weeks and now that he's sitting next to you staring at those gorgeous eyes of yours, he can feel the entirety of his resolve crumbling.
The lack of a response from him along with the rather awkward way you both were staring at each other is what led you to clearing your throat. That subtle attempt of breaking the silence doesn't work out too well since you turn back to your sheet of notes and Choso remains exactly as he'd been for the past few minutesâcompletely enthralled in everything you visually had to offer.
Then there's a loud creek from the old wooden chair he's sitting on before it scrapes against the floor. When you glance at him, you notice that he'd managed to scoot closer to you.
Scoffing, "Choso."
He looks at you immediately, the tips of his ears a cute shade of red. "Y-Yes?" The man squeaks, clearing his throat after in hopes of regaining the natural base in his voice back.
"Are you okay? You're all stiff," You point out softly, moving to poke his arm with the end of your pencil.
His frame doesn't budge a bit as you do so and his eyes fall down to the plush eraser that's lightly digging into his bicep. Cracking a half smile, "I'm fine, sorry. Just distracted, like I told you."
You lean in a little and his heart begins to rush. Then, your head tilts and you smile back at him, "You never told me what's distracting you."
"I did tell you," He insists, "You're distracting me."
"But you never said how."
"Because you know how."
You roll your eyes at how quick his responses come sometimes, "No I don't."
To which Choso gazes at you for a moment stretched out far more than necessary. Those deep chocolatey pools of brown in his eyes remained locked on you as if something inside him had finally shifted and convinced him to stop running.
A stretch of quiet passes again and it was in times like this when you wished you could read his mind or wished he was more talkative because maybe that would distract you from how unblinking and unmoving his studying gaze seemed to be.
There were no more shy flickers of lashes as he usually displayed, his eyes stopped dipping down to your lips, and he remained anchored to your growingly tense frame. The seconds seemed to drag out far too slowly for comfort, leaving you to feel the way tension wrapped itself around your lungs and began to suffocate you with rising anxietâ
"...Did you really invite me out here just to study?" Choso's voice finally mellows out, all soft 'n soothing as if his piercing gaze wasn't seconds away from driving you into a state of ridiculous shyness.
You finally meet his stare with one of your own, breathing out a light huff of unbelievability, "Yeah...?"
His eyes finally pull away from yours as he looks down. His expressionâalbeit lacking much to begin withâdropping, "Oh."
You catch the disenchantment in his tone almost immediately, "You sound disappointed."
"N-No," He perks up for a second with quick defense, looking at you more sincerely as his words sentences translate out of his mouth in short intervals. "I just..." He chews at his lower lip in thought and sighs, letting his heavy eyes fall shut so that he could gather his thoughts properly, "Well, a few weeks ago we..."
The end of that statement never comes, unfortunately.
For what Choso lacked in confidence, you made up for with your own. The bottom of your chair scrapes against the floor as you turn to face him a little more, leaning forward all teasingly and whispering out to him with a causality he couldn't even begin to fathom for himself.
"Do you wanna make out with me again, Cho?" You whisper perfectly.
The dark black at the center of his eyes seem to dilate in size a little as a heavy breath heaves out of his lips, saliva already gathering inside his mouth as if ready to drool before he even answers you properly. Choking out an all too thick, "God, yes."
His straightforward answer catches you by surprise for a split second as you look around to make sure there's nobody near. Noticing no one else in the vicinity, you grin and turn your head to the man again.
Only to be caught off guard by the way his stable hand comes up to your jaw to tug you in for a desperately needed kiss.
Choso had meant to say that he wanted so much more than to merely make out with you but, he'd hoped his actions would speak volumes louder than he ever could.
The kiss is a force of smushed lips and then clasping teeth as he eagerly parts your mouth open for his tongue to glide into. You don't know how many people he's kissed before youâif any at allâbut you do know that the silvery ball laying at the center of his tongue is a new sensation you weren't exactly prepared for.
"Mmnh!" You'd hummed against him as you tried to pull away from him in surprise.
Unfortunately for you, you'd caught Choso on one of his most neediest days. The grip he had on your jaw tightened and he forced you to stay in place, tongue drawing sinful shapes against yours before he pulled back for a soft moment just to rasp, "Take it." into your mouth.
Heat thrummed uncontrollably in between your legs at the sound of that. It was uttered so dirtily that you nearly felt like the guy was fucking you. And in way, he almost was.
Choso had a tongue like no otherâthe kind that explored and mapped the insides of your mouth out as if he planned to make home there. As if he wanted to fuck something filthy down your throat with the slick from his oral cavity.
Wetly devouring the very taste from your mouth, sucking at your squirming tongue, and grunting like something viscously feral was about to take over his body, Choso had quite lost his senses from the moment your lips made contact with his.
Study session? Ah, he'd forgotten alll about that.
Everything that led up to this was discarded completely. Especially as his free hand came down to your thigh, politely prying your legs apart and provoking another shocked moan from your throat.
The last time the two of you had a kiss this intimate, he possessed levels of restraint that seems to be a lost art to him now. It wasn't until your hand came over his and you urged his touch deeper between your thighs that something light 'n airy broke out from his lungs.
All his fingertips sunk into your skinâthe annoying layer of fabric between a raw touch be damnedâand a pathetic whimper was gifted directly into your mouth.
You were given a moment a of reprieve as Choso tugs his lips off of yours and then let his head tip down. He was never the bold type. Not with words, anyway.
What he couldn't voice out with you, he was an expert in showing you. That's why seconds before he'd pulled away from you back when you made out in the comfort of his bedroom all those weeks ago, he couldn't stop the insistent buck of his hips.
Now seemed to be no different.
Sure, there was some quietly whispering voice in his head telling him that the last place this should be happening in is the campus libraryâa place of which every student has access to. But, the other starving voices in his head couldn't care less.
And the way you were feeding into his desires wasn't exactly helping.
The shudder you let out when his tongue danced across your neck, how cutely you tried to squeeze your legs shut when his hot pants slapped up against your ear and his thick fingers grazed your inner thighâfuck, if you weren't every bit of addictive as he'd so delectably feared.
"We're supposed to be studying but," He groaned before the rest of his words even left him, "All I wanna do is explore you. You're so fuckin' pretty, it hurts."
His words stain your skin through his next wave of wet kisses as you allow his hand to continue its travels up and soon work your bottoms loose enough to slip into. Leaving you to gasp, "Choso," as he boldly feels at the wettened fabric of your panties.
"I wanna..." His tongue darts out a moment to moisten his lips before he slumps his head into the crook of your neck a bit, inhaling your scent and letting his hand explore you further as he whispers, "Hah, can I eat you out?"
You blink. "What? Here?"
"You're wet enough for it," Choso smirks. Then his thumb teases the edges of your panties, soon letting his other digits run down to rub over the soaked slit of your cunt, "God, you feel so fucking soft. I wanna taste you. Please?"
Your legs are all sprawled out and your chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths, the fear of getting caught growing within you, "Choso-"
"No one will catch us, I promise." He carefully cuts off in an attempt to soothe your worries.
You don't know what possessed you or him that day but, he ended up under the table and in between your legs a few minutes after that promise of his.
Your eyes were on the verge of crossing from how good his tongue felt against you. Scandalously lapping your folds apart and letting you leave glossy trails of slick against his mouth, Choso was nothing short of starving under you. His eyes softly pierced up from behind those glasses of his, taking in your every expression and studying your face to know where to thrust his tongue against.
Your panties had practically been ripped off of you, parts of the tethered fabric somewhere around your calves along with your pants that he tugged down. And yet it wasn't enough, he still felt like he wasn't tasting you properly.
...Which is how you both ended up in the nearby science fiction section of the library. One of your legs was now perched up against a row of books while you panted heavily against some others, Choso busy eating you out from behind like a man absolutely ravished.
His grunts and deep groans were surely loud enough to alert anyone nearby of what was happening but he couldn't be bothered with that because the squelchy moans your pussy let out were far more important. He held your leg up high as he swallowed in your taste, most of your juices having spilt down to his jaw and even all down his neck.
Choso's eyes were drunken with a sense of starvation and his mouth just kept moving and moving. You'd feel his lips french kiss your lower ones for a moment and then his tongue would lather on out to slap against your twitching clit, earning another slosh of arousal from your clenching hole.
School and studying came easy to him but this seemed to be far easier.
Choso ate you out like it's the only thing he knew how to do, muttering deep praises about how good you tasted and how pretty your pussy was against his tongue. The piercing decorating the center of his oral muscle often bullied itself around your clit as his tongue traveled up to it.
Then he'd haul himself back and return his attention to your needy lil' hole, using a single thumb to pry your glossing lips apart and watch the way your cunt salivates against his skin. His shyness was all one big front he put on because you'd never met a man like him who was this brash with his mouth.
A crisp stream of air breezed out against your spread pussy as Choso meanly blew against it just to watch how your insides flinch and then clench around nothing all pathetically.
Then he popped his thumb inside and his eyebrows twisted up, a gasp jumping out of his lungs in reaction to how sexily you sucked him in. His cock was so hard from this that he felt like he could barely think-, could barely breathe.
"You have suuuch a pretty pussy," He compliments lowly, earning a tight squeeze around his thumb as he draws it out of you slowly and then rounds the shape of your cunt with your own slick. "She's so sensitive to touch, it's cute."
Your back arches as he says that and you seem to spread out wider for him, to which his cock strains harder against his sweats. Fuck, he was gonna cum like some loser virgin because of this. As if he'd never seen pussy before or somethingâhow embarassing...
Luckily for him, his tongue is distracting enough against you to distract you from how he cums in his pants a few minutes later. Something about the way you unknowingly bucked your hips against his mouth made him choke as something sticky flooded his boxers.
Choso had fantasized about eating you out time and time again but actually feeling you ride his faceâeven for only a momentâwas probably the hottest thing that'd ever happened to him. You even reached back and tried grabbing at his hair when you got close!
What was he supposed to do, stop his cock from excitedly spilling out a creamy thanks in reaction to you? As if.
Even though he came before you, he doesn't stop the desperate running of his mouth against your weepy pussy. If anything, his orgasm seemed to make him hungrier as he guzzled your sweet taste to spill past the puffed lips of your cunt until you were left swollen against his tongue.
You both were rather loud during that entire escapade but those pleasureful volumes were never much considered since... well, you guys were never caught.
Not only that but, the whole thing was only one of manyyyy cunnilingus-sessions that occurred between the two of you.
Choso may not have been good with his words or asking you for those things directly but once it came down to the physical stuff, he was fine. Which is exactly why you kept going back to him for more 'n more until your study sessions became sessions of... well, everything except studying.
ââ
On the other hand, there was Kaiso Kamo, who was an entirely different breed in comparison to his seemingly shy brother.
At a party hosted by the one and only Gojo Sato, he could be found somewhere off in the corner. He wasn't the life of the party like his other frat bothers but he was the only member to have caught your eye (allegedly).
Though, the two of you had passed formal introductions a long time ago.
Nowadays when you attend these parties and as you're dancing against some older guy who arguably doesn't look like he belongs in this crowd of peopleâdeep scar noticed at the corner of his lips and sharp green eyes exploring your body in ways he'd hoped his hands would laterâKaiso wouldn't take long to find you.
You were hosting some alcohol down your throat from one of the signature red cups these parties always seemed to have as a big hand finally came sneaking around your waist from the man you'd been dancing against. You tipped your head back and hoped to smile at him but you were quickly distracted by the way your cup left your hand.
When you redirected your attention forwards, Kaiso was standing there messily swallowing down the rest of your drink. The man who's name you forgot to catch took less than a second to detach himself from you and quickly went dancing elsewhere. It was obvious he wasn't interested in a woman who's got frat members drinking from the same cup as her...
"Oh, c'mon," You'd huffed, trying to reach forward and snatch your cup back from the thieving twin who never failed to ruin your moments with other people. "Not only are you scaring the hoes but, I was drinking that, asshole." You huff as you just barely pluck it out of his hands.
When you look into it, you notice all its contents are gone and end up sending Kaiso a mean glare.
One of which he grins at before stepping closer to you and carefully placing a hand to your neck.
"Kais-" You're cut off as he tips his head to the side and comes closer to pour the rest of your drink into your mouth from his own via kissing you. Your eyes go all wide and you feel your mind blanking out for a second as the liquid slithers down your throat and his tongue softly follows as if to write sorry-not-sorry into your mouth.
The way he kisses you is dizzying. It always is. He captures your breath entirely and only allows you oxygen if it's coming from his lungs. Everything in between his lips and yours is hot and dragging with need for more. Kaiso's free hand moves to your waist as he possessively tugs at your body and brings you up against him.
The thick of his leg comes meddling in between your own and you're quickly pulled all up against his body whist the kiss deepens. The sea of drunkly dancing college students surrounds the both of you but he was never one to care about who saw him with you.
Although he couldn't man up enough to ask you out, he could make things obvious that you were his in one way or another. Even though he'd no idea that you gave his brother the same exact treatment.
Eventually, his lips part against yours and he speaks into your mouth hotly, "Who was that, huh?"
Before you can even answer him, he's clasping your bottom lip in between his teeth and then letting his tongue swat over the plump curve of it to capture the rest of your taste. Shared alcohol escapes the edges of both of your mouths but Kaiso carries enough decency to lick at the corner of yours.
Then he pries himself back and grabs at your face, forcing your dazed attention to narrow up on him. "C'mon princess, it's a simple question, not rocket science." He husks out as if he'd given you the opportunity or space to answer him in the first place.
"I dont know," You mumble to him, lashes batting gently as you shrug, "Jus' some guy, why do you care?"
The corner of his lips twitch before he flashes that crooked smirk of his at you, "Let's not ask stupid questions, you know why I care."
You huff before moving your face out of his hand, "Do I?"
Skeptically, a brow is cocked your way as Kaiso sends you a look of pure disbelief. Flatly, "You almost let my frat run a train on you last weekend." he reminds you.
In your defense, the frat in question consisted of Sato Gojoâwho's one half of the most popular twins around right nowâSuguru Geto, Sukuna Ryomen, and Nanami Kento.
"...Can you really blame me?" You murmur all innocently as if that was really something of utmost causality.
Immediately rolling his eyes and seemingly ticked off by the sound of that, "Yeahh, I'm gettin' you out of here." Kaiso huffs as he moves to grab your wrist and tug you along with him.
He shoves his way through all the dancing people and begins to head into a rather familiar direction you're no stranger to.
"Kaiso, c'monnnn, don't be like that!" You whine, barely making an attempt to escape the hold he has on your arm.
He pauses in his steps to whirl around to you again, flashing that aggravated gaze of his at you, "Don't be like what?" He snaps. At the sight of your faux innocent expression, his shoulders drop a bit as he sighs, "I'm just looking out for you."
Even so, you still manage a pout that he immediately wants to kiss away. "No, you're being annoying and you're cockblocking me."
Kaiso snorts, "Cockblokcing you from a man who's got kids he doesn't even take care of doesn't sound so bad but, alright."
"Huh?" You stare dumbfoundedly at him.
"Toji? The guy you were just dancing with?"
"Wait so you knew him?" You gasp.
He stares at you for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and turning to storm off. You follow after him like he fully expects you to and he mostly blames whatever you'd been drinking tonight as to why you were acting denser than normal.
"Kaiso!" You huff in response to being ignored.
The man leads you into a room that you blindly follow him into, soon shutting and locking the door behind you before revealing where he'd taken you to via flicking some dim lights on. The mess of his dorm is revealed and you're looking around the place all confused before you hear his belt unbuckling.
Whipping your head around and letting your eyes fall down immediately, you gape, "What are you doing?"
"You said I was cockblocking you," Kaiso answers nonchalantly with a lazy nod of his chin towards his bed, "I'm gonna give you some to prove that I'm not."
Still feeling like some sort of airhead, you continue to stare at him like every word had run through one ear and out the other, "...What?"
Kaiso's eyes meet yours as he tugs his studded belt out from the loops of his jeans, flinging it off to the side and stepping closer to you despite his words, "Unless you don't want i-"
"Nono, I do," You cut off with an eager nod of your head.
He smiles at you, "Good." Then his fingers swiftly unzip his jeans, "Now strip."
Stuff like this is why you couldn't get enough of him. There was something oh-so-exhilarating about having two twins with two entirely different personalities be this obsessed with you. The distant fact that neither of them new about the other was, again, an added bonus to the entire thing.
Kaiso had no idea that his older brother tongued down the same cunt he was now swabbing his cock against, and Choso never knew you let his younger twin fuck you into tears in the middle of parties like this.
"Nngh, fuuck," You moan stupidly as drool threatens to spill out from your kiss-bitten lips.
Kaisoâs got a wide shit-eating grin plastered out across his lips as his hips rut into yours with heavily dragging thwacks, his hard cock bullying your squelchy insides with that rude right curve of his. "Shiiit, look at how wide your pussy spreads out for my cock. That's so nasty, isn't it?" He huffs out in between thrusts.
Youâre too busy struggling to get proper air into your lungs with the way he was fucking you straight into his creaky mattress, the headboard heavily rocking against the wall loud enough to worry someone. "Kaiso," Youâd mewled time ân time again, nails scratching somewhere at his back.
All whilst his voice was slithering itself into your ear in a thick whisper, "Hm? Can you feel that? Feel my cock allll the way in the back of that slutty pussy?"
His words were soooo filthy. It made your greedy walls clamp around his pierced shaft harder and your nails claw at his back rougher as if to beg for mercy. The rhythmic slap of skin to skin filled the entirety of his dorm with every bulling smack! of his balls.
Kaisoâs cock was stretching you open far too wide for you to think-, much less breathe with how your eyes began to travel back and your words came out more brokenly, "M'gonna cum.â
He scoffed, "Already? I barely did anything, baby." Then one of his hands snuck down in between the two of you to softly greet your clit with a politely swirling motion, "Did those kisses get you this worked up? Hm?"
"Yeahh," You gasped as if you were stuck in some kind of trance, drips of sweat from his body mingling with the perspiration from your own.
"Yeahh?" He mocks in a slightly pitched whine that had you unconsciously running from his rather brutal thrusts, "A couple of kisses gets this pussy all wet 'n needy f'me?â Kaiso question rhetorically before leaning up a bit to look down at the sinful spread of your cunt, âYou poor girlll."
You sent a pout up his way, blissed-out drool decorating the corner of your mouth, "S-Shut up.â
His head cocked over to the side and you felt his dick twitch inside you just as his plump tip tapped against that spongey sweet spot of yoursâjust barely. "Whaaaat, are you mad 'cause I'm right? Mad âcause of how well I know your body?"
"You're s-soo fucking annoying," You argued with furrowed brows.
Part of you wanted to tell him in times like this how he wasn't the only one you let ruin you like this, how his own brother knows the same sensitive spots he's currently hitting like the back of his hand.
But itâs hard to find the courage to bring that up when he pinpoints said spot and begins to drill into it, moving an arm to wrap around one of your legs and tug it upâthus leaving you halfway on your side.
Your hand flies off to grasp at the sheets for support but itâs little to no use. "F-Fuck, right thereee-,â You choked out thoughtlessly, letting your jaw dangle open as heavy breaths tumbled out of you in between your cracked array of moans.
All while your bodily reactions seemed to inflate his ego, "Ohh, I found it again, huh? That lil' sensitive spot of yours.â
"Kaiso-, nngh.. m'gonna cum," You panted again, tucking your face over and into the bedding for cover.
The sight of you doin that seems to set him off with the way his hips buck forward even harder-, faster. No longer bullying but more punishing now, âLemme see it," Kaiso demands through slightly gritted teeth.
He watched how his rough movements caused you to lose your grip on the sheets, especially as he turned his head to kiss at the leg he held up against his chest, sucking hickies into your skin and huffing all over you.
When your pretty glossed-over eyes finally meet his again, he moans before catching himself. Regaining his composure for just long enough to grunt, "Go on, make a pretty mess on that dick. And look at me while you do it, juust like that.â He coos.
You barely remember the whorish way in which you kept your eyes on hisâhow youâd began to meet his hips with rolls of your own, and how loud youâd whined when your orgasm finally washed over you.
Then came his kind praises, fluttering past his lips without second thought, âThere she is, thereâs my pretty girlll.â Kaiso cooed.
You were left twitching and shaking under him before he pulled out and left a sticky mess of cum against your stomach. Every Kaiso came, it was messy and stupidly creamyâbits landing up on your fucked-out expression as you laid there and took your time in catching your breath.
The distant music thumping throughout the house begins to dawn on you again as you realize the party had been going on all this time. Kaiso was busy getting himself cleaned up after doing so for you, trying to straighten up his room a little so when you finally come to, you won't try and scold him like about his lack of tidiness as you've done before.
A few more minutes of soft shuffles pass by before you're getting up and moving to put your clothes back on, swiping up your phone from where it'd fallen to earlier, and then making your way towards the door without much of a word.
Kaiso clears his throat to catch your attention just before you go, leading you to turn around and catch how he sends you a small smile, "Text me when you get home, okay?"
"Mhm," You hum sleepily.
He had half a mind to bring you back into his bed and try to convince you to stay the night since you were already here but, the last time he did that, you got upset with him for acting like your boyfriendâa bad habit of his that he's somewhat trying to break.
"Wait, c'mere." Kaiso calls out anyway.
When you slowly pace back over to him, he brushes all stray hairs out of your face and goes as far as straightening you up a bit more so you don't look completely fucked out, and then leans in to kiss your forehead.
Whispering, "Get home safe."
The softness in his words throw you off more than his actions earlier had. Swallowing it down, you're quick to nod in response before finally parting ways with him.
By the time you make it outside and the night air slaps you with somewhat of a wakeup call, you realize that it was things like that which caused your heart strings to be tugged at.
Both of the twins did it. Chosoâusually during real study sessions when you got something right or taught him something new, and Kaisoâright after sex when he longed to pull you back into his arms and keep you there for the rest of the night.
ââ
Overall, that's how your relationship with each brother played out. Paths that were never to be crossed over one another, even though there were some late nights where you'd begrudgingly fantasized about it...
You went on for months and months before ever getting caught. You'd had a couple of close calls with them both throughout that time, of course.
Sometimes you nearly called Choso by his brother's name, especially in moments when he took his glasses off to clean the, and other times you made references to study sessions that never took place with Kaiso.
They never put two and two together until one night in particular though.
It was rare that the Kamo twins were home at the same time since Kaiso typically stayed in a dorm while Choso remained home. Even so, you'd been to the Kamo family house with each of them a couple of timesâalways making sure that the other was nowhere nearby when you did so.
But, what you forgot to account for was their sweet baby brother Yuji.
Their sweet baby brother Yuji who had the most unfortunate habit of wandering into rooms completely unannounced, who noticed everything, and who was not shy to speak without thinking.
The living room had been quiet for the past thirty minutes or so, safe for the mellow sound of the TV playing ahead. All three brothers sat lounging around in their respective spots in the room.
Yuji was sprawled out against the carpet mostly distracted by his phone while Choso read some book and Kaiso scrolled away on his phone. This was very much the quiet before the storm.
The beginning of said storm all starting when Yuji scrolled past a reel of cookies and perked his head up, eyes flocking over to his more unkept older brother, who's hair was a shaggier mess as it splayed out around his face. "Hey Kaiso," Yuji began, instantly capturing all of the man's attention, "Are you still helping that girl with her night anxiety stuff?"
Night anxiety...? Choso found himself snorting at the excuse his twin gave Yuji, knowing damn well that was code for some hook-up Kaiso brought over in the past.
Slowly raising a brow, "Uhm, yeah..? Why?" Kaiso said slowly, biting back a smile.
The whole night anxiety story was something cheap he'd told the pink-haired boy one time when he had questions about the weird sounds coming from his room while you were over one night.
"Oh, I was just wondering when she'd come over again. She brought me cookies one time and they were really good," Yuji sighs whilst he turns back to his phone, as if he didn't just cause a mindfuck of confusion with that innocently made statement of his.
Kaiso stares for a long moment before awkwardly chuckling, "Huh? What cookies?"
Choso fully looks up from his book and tips his glasses away from crookedness against his marked nose, "Yuji, are you sure you're not getting us confused? I think you're mistaking Ms. Night Anxiety for my project partner, she's the one who brought you cookies."
Casually, like he wasn't actively exposing you without even realizing it, Yuji goes back to scrolling through his phone as he speaks, "Then my question is for both of you, when you guys gonna bring her over again?"
The twins blink in sync before looking at one another.
Kaiso's the first to scoff, "What?"
Then Choso follows up with a look of concern towards their younger brother, "How is your question for both of us?"
Yuji shrugs, "Uhm, because you study with the same girl he helps with night anxiety, duh...?" The boy snorts, still staring at his phone while the twins unintentionally shoot him daggers.
Choso instantly turns his head to Kaiso, "The fuck is he talking about?"
Kaiso shrugs, "Hell if I know. Yuji, are you sure you don't have us mistaken here? I know we look alike but-"
"I'm pretty good with faces," Yuji cuts off before standing up and looking at his older brothers, "So unless this girl has a twin too, I'm preeeetty sure she's been over with both of you plenty of times."
Before jumping too far into conclusions, Choso clasps his book shut and leans forward to carefully ask, "And, prey tell, have you caught her name at all?"
"Yeah, cause I'm still convinced you've got us mixed up," Kaiso puffs out, leaning back against the couch as he scoffs, "No shot we're seeing the same-"
Yuji says your name and the twins freeze up.
Then, slowly, they look at one another at the exact same time. Some sort of twin-telepathy seems to take place as they gauge one another's relations to the name that'd just been uttered. Finding that Yuji was rightâthat you are the same girl they'd both been seeingâboth of them can't help but scoff in unison.
"No fucking way," Kaiso spits out with a scowl pressing itself into his lips.
"Unbelievable," Choso hums unnervingly calm.
Since you weren't present for the whole ordeal, you never couldn't even begin to imagine how unbelievably fucked you were.
ââ
Luckily, it was mostly in the way you preferred it to be.
But when it came time for the twins to confront you, it sure as hell did not seem that way.
The first strike was receiving a text from both of them at the same time. You should've known something was up from that alone. You'd executed your entire relationship with each of them without a hitch or overlap of communication like this ever happening, and yet...
Choso: Hey, can you come over? I need your help reviewing something and I want to see you.
Kaiso: I miss you, come over
The synchronized invite was odd, of course, but that didn't stop you from getting ready to go see one of them. In your mind, they lived in two separate places. While Kaiso had brought you over to the Kamo house a couple times in the past, he resided mostly in his dorm so you never considered the possibility of him inviting you over like that to his family home.
As far as Choso was concerned though, it was a norm for the two of you to meet up at his house.
Which is exactly why you were over there within the next hour, having left poor Kaiso on delivered whilst you pretended not to see his text. Surely a "review" was more important than hooking up with the fratboy for the nth time in your life...
As you stand out in the cold, waiting for someone to answer the door from you recent knocking, you fidget with the ends of your jacket a bitâgetting this feeling that somethings about to happen the longer you stand there. It's like Choso was taking longer to open the door than norma-
"Hey," The front door swings open and the voice that hits your ears makes your stomach drop. Especially as the greeting is followed by a smooth, "How'd you know I wanted you to come here and not to my dorm?"
Shit.
Cocking his head to the side, Kaiso sizes you up 'n down before cracking an all-too-knowing smirk, "Unless, of course, you really chose my brother over me?"
ShitShitShitShitShit.
Brain stuttering, heart thumping, and eyes gone as wide as possible, "I uh-,"
"Told you she prefers me," Choso adds in suddenly from behind the man, his head popping out from the side as the door opens wider and the Kamo twins stand before you in their annoyingly hot glory, "Right, sweetheart?"
Oh you're so fucked.
You tried thinking of something-, anything to say that'd get you out of this. Something about how you responded to the wrong text, or showed up at the wrong address, or literally anything that'd distract them for long enough to give you an opportunity to run off and never turn back.
But, before anything comes out of you and while you're standing there with shock etched into your every feature, Kaiso shakes his head disappointedly. Running a hand through his loose head of hair and pushing stray strands out of his face, "I wonder how long you were gonna keep this up."
Your lips part to breathe out an excuse but Choso beats you in speaking. "Seriously, did you think we wouldn't find out?" He asks with an amused little smile pressed out across his lips.
You'd never seen him so smug in your life. And his brother seemed to be doused in a sense of superiority or knowing that you hadn't recognized for him. Having them both stare you down like this made you feel small.
"I..." You swallow thickly and stupidly manage to say the first thing that comes to mind. "I thought you guys were the same person...?"
Oh girl...
Choso almost laughs at you, "That's cute." Then he lets his gaze travel your body in eager glances, "But we don't fuck like the same person now, do we?"
"You-"
Kaiso finally flashes that full, toothy smile of his as he leans back a bit, "Maybe we should show her, huh?"
"Y'know what, yeah, I think I like the sound of that." Choso agrees.
Fuck.
Moments later and you could be found in a position you'd only ever dreamed about before now.
There was no way you were gonna turn them down when they offered to show you how differently they fuck but, you didn't exactly expect your sweet Choso to be so... crude with you now that he's passing you back 'n forth between himself and his twin. Nor did you expect Kaiso to get ten times worse than he normally was with you!
âOh câmonnnn now. I taught you how to take dick better than that, no?â The younger Kamo twin huffed out as he watched you struggle pathetically to sink down on to the base of his deliciously pierced cock.
Now, even though you'd done it time and time again, something about riding a man with the infamous Jacob's Ladder decorating his wiiidely stretching shaft while his twin brother stared you down was-
âSâtoo muuuch!â You'd cried out, attempting to lift your body away from Kaiso while Choso stood in front of you and moved his hand under your jaw to tip your head up.
âSuch a whiny girl,â He cooed, tilting his head to catch how you instinctively began to grind yourself down despite your complaints, âYou say things like that ân yet your hips are still movinâ.â
âWell I canât help it,â You huff rather brattily, feeling Choso slide a thump into your mouth as he caught the way your tongue stuck out with each inch and pair of silver jewelry you sunk down on, âI-It still feels good...â
Kaiso was slouched back as he enjoyed his having the first go at you, just brely holding himself back from fucking his cock up senselessly into you. Though it was really hard not to. One thing the Kamo brothers always struggled with was seeing you on top of them.
Even so, between your slow decent he's still managing a smug smile, âYeahhh, I bet it does. Better than my brother, right?â Your pussy clenches soakingly around him and you gasp. To which he slips his bottom lip into his mouth to stop something rather whimperish from leaving him. Instead grunting, âOh?â
âGuess thatâs a no, huh, Kaiso?" Choso boasts from in front of you.
âWhatever,â Kaiso scoffs, eyes rolling as his hips buck up all punishingly. âSheâs just got too much cock inside her to think straight right now.â He claims as he, quite literally, fucks all thoughts out your head.
Choso stares at you with kindhearted eyes before forcing your head to face him more, âSâthat true? Are you fucked too stupid already?â
âM-Mhmm,â You mumble, one of your eyes beginning to shut as you feel yourself getting cockdrunk already. And to think they'd only just started.
âLiarr.â Choso taunts, thumbing your lips apart as you leave a drooly mess all over his hand. âYou wanted this, didnât you? To get passed back ân forth by us like this?"
Your head shakes. Partly because you couldn't think and also because you didn't exactly expect this to ever happen for you.
Something sopping and wet is making a sliiick mess inside Choso's boxers but he's trying his best to ignore it as he continues to tease you, âNo?â
âTold yaâ she was fucked too stupid,â Kaiso answers before you can, âLook at her.â He forces you up and off his soaked dick to reveal just how much of a mess youâd already left on him. âSheâs fuckinâ filthy for this shit. Here, take her.â
Youâre shoved into the older twin all roughly in a way that has your greedy cunt squeezing around nothing.
âYouâre right. Only a dummy would tell such an obvious lie like that.â Choso tuts. Then he pushes out a pout to mock the one you have, âAll that time I spent being nice ân gentle with you⌠just for you to want me and my brother to slut this pussy out.â
âChoso, Iââ
âShhh, I wasnât done talking, princess." He shuts you up quick with that and then forces you down on your knees, "God, you need to learn some manners too, huh?â As he says that, you watch him slowly work his pants down to let his cock spring out.
Another thing the Kamo twins had in common was the fearsome right favoring direction of their cocks. Kaiso had a curve and Choso had a lean. Either way, it never mattered which one was in front of you or inside youâyou craved both all the same.
Choso gathers his dick into one of his hands while the other moves to the top of your head, "Well, don't jus' sit there 'n stare at at. Open up, sweetheart."
It's downright slutty the way your lips part and you lean forward, meeting the fat crown of his cock with the center of your tongue and then lazily letting it round the entirety of his tip.
The groan Choso lets out is heavy with his own arousal. Meanwhile Kaiso's still sat on the couch watching his brother slowly begin to fuck the inside of your mouth.
"Guess this is what we should've been studying all that time, huh?" The older Kamo twin asks rhetorically, "How well you take cock in that slutty throat of yours," Choso clarifies in a a way that makes you feel dirty. "Can't believe you had us both fooled."
It's not long before your throat is thoroughly fucked to the point of being bruised. Choso hadn't pulled himself out until he was sure your mouth had fully taken to the very shape of him and directly after that, you were roughly moved to be properly shared by the twins.
Kaiso was in front of you and Choso was behind you nowâboth looking at you as if you were the sexiest thing they'd ever set their eyes on.
Your entire body felt like it was on fire with how worked up you were, pussy slobbering on nothing with each second that passed. You whined softly as you watched the duo selfishly jerk themselves off to the sight of you positioned in between them like some whore.
Up until Kaiso finally squeezed his hand around his swollen tip and then let the rest of his cock come over to slap! across your cheek, earning your full attention for a moment.
âStop beinâ lazy, spread that pussy open for him. Câmon now.â He directed meanly.
You do exactly that ever so slowly, reaching a hand back and letting your fingers move to sprawl your puffy pussylips apart for the man behind you.
Choso didn't waste a second in angling his tip up against your hole, soon smacking your hand out the way as if he didn't hear his twin give you instructions less than a moment ago.
When he finally starts to press into you, you think you let out a moan but you're not really sure with the way it's muffled around Kaiso's cock sliding into your mouth. You're easily sandwiched between the two men in a way that says you were always meant to be.
âSo slooooppy in here,â Choso drawls out after only a few thrusts. âNo matter how many times I play with you, you just keep gushing, and gushing, and gushing..â He points out, one hand tucked under you to work over your dripping clit.
Kaiso's got a look on his face that truly makes you feel more debauched than ever before as his cock ruts in and out of your mouth, piercings gliding against your tongue and dragging out across your mouth every now and then, "Her lips are all puffy ân swollen too, awhh.â
In a matter of moments, the two are thrusting in some sort of rhythmic fashion that has your body jerking back 'n forth and back 'n forth, leaving you unable to do anything but moan and cum around each cock that occupied your slutty holes.
Choso was occasionally pulling out just to spit on youâthe splatter usually landing somewhere on your backâand Kaiso was sometimes missing your mouth and instead grinding up against your face with everything he had to offer. His cock had rubbed all over you to a point of no return.
There was no way either of them would let you go off and be with anyone else after this. No, no, from here on out they were going to make it clear that you belonged to them.
âS-Shiiiit,â With one last mean slap from his dick, Choso pulls out of you and lets your body fall forward a little while he jerks at his cock with quick tugs, shakily spelling out K-A-M-O across both cheeks of your ass with his cum. Panting as he stares down at the pretty sight.
Meanwhile Kaiso's just barely finishing up with your throat, blushing cockhead leaking a stickier ensemble of cum against your tongue. He forces your head off of his dick in just enough time to spell out an accompanying word to math the one written across your ass.
His hand roughly tugs your mouth apart and your tongue rolls out as you struggle to catch your breath between your slight coughs. Then, you see how focused Kaiso is as he spells out S-L-U-T against your tongueâseeming more focused than he'd ever been in his life.
It.. It was almost like the two had planned it out.
Especially with how they both pull out their phones and ask, âCan I take a picture?â in sync.
Do you remember what answer you gave them? Fuck no.
Does the prospect of knowing a picture like that probably exists in both of their phones scare the shit out of you later anytime you even think of making one of them jealous? Duh.
But regardless of what your answer was to them, the only other thing you vividly remember from that night of blissful punishment was the way the door had swung open just as the flashes from their phones went off.
âYo,â A new voice suddenly chimes inâdeeper, heavier, lazier with the syllables. Then entering the room comes yet another member of the Kamo family. Youâd have smelled the thick aroma of weed oozing off of him if it wasnât for the scent of sex crawling about the air. âHave you guys seen my-, oh.â
You and him make eye contact.
Youâre a slutty mess of tears and disheveled hair while heâs peering at you with widened, jaded eyes.
It was their older brother. The drug dealer. Or, as many like to call himâthe campus plug.
