#I had so much fun w that tree can you tell

[sigtheta]

And her touch, the orange sunset 🍊💙

(28/10/2023)

[impactedfates]

Yapper Boyfriend - Various HSR Boys x GN!Reader

★ Summary: Your boyfriend loves to talk and you love to listen, though sometimes it puts a stop to what you're doing or you can tell it's getting him worked up. So what better why to make sure he's happy then stopping him with a kiss? (TLDR: Shutting your boyfriend up w/ a kiss)

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Argenti , Boothill, Mr Reca, Dr Ratio, Dan Heng + Sunday

★ Genre/Trope: Established Relationship + Romantic + Fluff

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Mr Reca may be OOC (Getting used to his character still) // Sunday may be OOC // Slightly Proof Read // Writing kiss scenes are awkward...

Your beautiful boyfriend Argenti, he was the greenest flag you've ever met. You never minded his yapping and praises for Idrila, that's just how he was. And honestly, seeing him hold a long dead god with such high regard after all this time was admirable.

Though at times, it can interrupt your dates. And that's what was happening now. You were both visiting a planet and stumbled upon a shrine for the very goddess he worships. Immediately, he lets go of your hand and kneels in front of it, he sings his praises to it.

You could only sigh and smile softly as he did so. Though that wasn't the end of the praises you heard, even after walking away. The conversation you were having with your boyfriend slowly turned into him praising Idrila again. You knew why, it was rare to find any followers of Beauty these days let alone find a shrine dedicated to her.

Though, you'd much prefer singing praises to him and how great he was. You didn't mind too much listening. You knew he was passionate about his goddess and who were you to stop him. You couldn't help but admire him. You also couldn't mind just...

"It's just fantastic isn't it my love? Seeing a shrine so well kept for goddess Idrila. It's just-"

You quickly leaned up, kissing him softly on the lips. He was quick to reciprocate, leaning into your touch before you two pulled away.

"I...aha, sorry. Was I going on again my dear?"

"Don't worry, continue. You just looked so passionate about this, I couldn't help myself"

"Those forking, son of a nice ladies!!"

Your lover huffed. Boothill crossed his arms as he grumbled, letting you mess with his hair as he continued to complain. It was understandable, the IPC was incredibly annoying this time around. He wanted to get a drink at the nearby bar but some of the IPC subordinates were there and quickly tried to pick a fight with him.

Causing all of them to be kicked out. He grumbled more as he kept muttering things under his breath. A 'mother forking' here, a few 'shirt bags' there and of course 'fudge heads'

Your hands worked to braid his hair slowly, hoping it would calm him down like the previous times but it seems as though you'd have to use a different tactic.

You leaned his head towards you before quickly planting a kiss on his lips, effectively stopping his next words from coming out. He sat there in surprise, even after you pulled away, he just looked at you before quickly turning away with a chuckle.

"Well I'll be damned...got me there sweetheart"

"Reca-"

"And the camera movement! Why focus on the trees when the drama is happening with the characters!?"

"Rec-"

"Oh and don't get me STARTED on the lighting, like really? That kind of lighting for that kind of scene?"

"...Re-"

"OH AND DID I MENTION-"

You sighed, your attempts at even just soothing your partner's emotions coming to a fail. How could you do anything if he's going to criticize the movie you had just watched. Or was this just spite because you complimented one of the characters? You could only listen as Mr Reca continued his onslaught on the film's cinematography.

God you knew yourself the film was bad. This was meant to be a fun date night as you two cringed at the movies but your boyfriend was getting rather into it. Eventually after 5 minutes of this thorough review, you reach over, putting your hands gently on either side of his face, cupping his cheek. You quickly lean in to kiss him before he could utter another word.

When you pulled away he looked at you stunned for a second before grinning like an idiot. That god damn smile you fell in love with.

"Perfect! Brilliant! You see, THAT is what the lead should've done during that confession scene!"

You couldn't help but let out a laugh as he took your hands into his, as he praised your action, comparing it to the film. You will say though, your plan of stopping his review on the film was a success, even if now he was ranting about how great the "scene" was when you kissed him.

Aeons you only asked one question, you figured your boyfriend would know and now you're stuck listening to Dr Ratio yap about something, that you can't even tell has any correlation to your original question.

It's not that you minded, you loved learning new facts but the problem was...checking the time, if he didn't notice soon Dr Ratio would be late to his next lesson...and while that could be interesting and funny to see.

The oh so strict Dr Ratio late to his lesson. You didn't want that for him. But you didn't know how to stop him, when he gets into a lecture he really gets into it. So how could you...

Ah! You got it.

You stood up and walked towards him, tugging on his shirt so he'd turn his head towards you, you leaned up and kissed him. It was quick and simple before you pulled away.

"I-...what was that for?"

Oho, a blushing and flustered Dr Ratio is so much better then a late Dr Ratio.

"You have a class to attend remember?"

"...[Name], I don't go to school anymore"

"...Darling...you're a teacher"

When those words left your mouth you could see him mentally face palm as he quickly grabbed his items. He muttered out a thank you as he kissed your cheek, checking his phone to see how much more time he had left before rushing to his class.

Now Dan Heng wasn't really a yapper. He often listened to you yapping instead. And on the occasion he would shut you up with a kiss. It always made you flustered, and it wasn't even to really shut you up to be quiet. He just couldn't help himself, you looked so passionate in your topic he couldn't help but lean in to give you some affection before gesturing you to continue.

For once, you wanted to do it to him. To kiss him when he was rambling about something, make him flustered and just motion him to continue. But he wasn't one to easily ramble about something.

You eventually came up with an idea though, it wasn't exactly the best and it didn't exactly involve him rambling but...y'know if it works it works.

You asked him to read out the some of the texts to the databank, like a story book. He blinked at you confused but agreed. He read one, two and another until you finally put your plan into motion, you leaned up to kiss him. He was stunned for a moment as you pulled away.

"...was that your plan all along? To shut me up with a kiss?"

"...maybe"

He let out a small chuckle. Shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, to ask me to read out the data banks just so you could shut me up with a kiss"

You stayed silent for a bit with a blush, realising how silly the plan sounded now.

"...please continue with the databank talk..."

“I’m sorry”

Those words were the first thing uttered out of his mouth when you saw him again. When you opened the door and saw your boyfriend again.

“I’m…so…so sorry”

He repeats, holding your hand as he brings it up to his face. He looks at you, you can tell he’s holding back tears. Aeons you haven’t seen him since…well, the incident with the Charmony festive. You haven’t seen him since he was imprisoned, how he managed to get out?

You didn’t care, your boyfriend was back but…he didn’t look well.

“I-I didn’t…I thought…”

He struggled to get the words out, holding your hand as if you were a delicate doll and one wrong move would break you apart and he’d be alone again.

“…I just wanted the best for everyone…I-I promise…I…I didn’t think…about…all the details…I-I thought what I was doing was right but it wasn’t…aeons…I’ve hurt so many people haven’t I…”

You listened, hearing his apologies just spill out as tears threatened to follow suit. He couldn’t even look you in the eye anymore, he felt too ashamed too. How could he after all that he’s done?

Yet another apology was about to leave his lips until he felt soft ones fall on top of his. He froze, eyes widening in surprise as you kissed him.

How…

How could you…still give him affection? When he finally looked at you, you looked at him so gently, so kindly.

How

How did he deserve that? No he doesn’t deserve that, he doesn’t deserve the way you gently lead him into your house, sit him down and hug him…you’re…happy he’s okay?

He watched you carefully as you went to brew a cup of tea for the both of you…Aeons, he’s so lucky to have you.

Sorry for not uploading in while. Schools hectic and I’m a year away before I have to plan on colleges.

Anyways, I hope you all liked this one ^^

I tried to make sure the “kisses” were done at an appropriate time/scenario if that makes sense

I have another draft in the works so hopefully I’ll get it done eventually

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : The spar between you and Sunday goes in an unexpected direction - well, at least for Sunday. Life as a Hunter has taught you to almost always expect unexpected directions.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 6.5k

✩ TAGLIST : @felibrary, @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @fxngtasy , @emiken-070907 , @tragedy-of-commons , @boothills-usbport , @mikashisus , @lunaegrl , @cakechase , @keirenny , @romyoia , @bunnihunnii , @insomniac-hours ( TAGLIST IS CLOSED )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : hey bitches. guess who's back. FUN FACT THIS BROKE THE IMG LIMIT FOR POSTS ON TUMBLR BYE I HAVE NO IDEA IF ITS GOING TO HOLD UP ON WATTPAD (probably not. sniffles) BUT OMLLLL I REALLY YAPPED TOO MUCH W THE CHATS.... ALSO !! CHAT MSG ICON FOR SUNDAY CREDIT GOES TO THE LOVELY BUNNYCARROT ON TWT. ALSO KNOWN AS MY REASON FOR LIVING. also howre we feeling abt sunday release. IK I WAS GONE THAT ENTIRE TIME HE WAS DRIP MARKETED AND EVERYTHING BUT IN MY DEFENSE. i had to rewrite the sparring scene like 5 different times and the chat msgs like 3 times. so. erm. yeah ALSO ILL GET TO THE ALT TEXTS TMRW I SWEAR ITS JUST MIDNIGHT RN AND IM SCARED (of my mom) AND TIRED

ADDITIONALLY, I'VE HIRED BETA READERS !!! SAY HELLO TO GWEN AKA @tragedy-of-commons , VICTORIA AKA @theother-victoria , VISARA AKA @rainswept , AND MHIE AKA @iceunhie. GO CHECK THEM OUT THEY WRITE TOO and more consistently too sneezes BUT YEAH THEY'RE GOING TO BE MY VICTIMS I MEAN TEAM TO WHICH I YAP AND HAVE THEM EDIT MY SHIT <333 LOVE YALL

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In and out.

Inhale through the nose.

Hold.

Exhale through the mouth.

Again.

Sunday closes his eyes and breathes. He adjusts his grip on his rapier, making sure that his grip is firm and that its tip points away from him. Alone in the training room, the silence is more than enough for him to think, and force away the voices the best he can.

He reaches, he calls, and he tunes into the very roots that govern the universe. The Imaginary Tree is life and reality itself. It illuminates, it breathes, and it grows. It curls around his fingers, and it gives. Life flows into his veins, strings of pure energy lying right beneath his fingertips, and he pulls.

Imaginary manifests in melodies and staffs, guided by his rapier and weaving into a somber song. He lifts his hand, drawing the sheets and forming the beginnings of a symphony.

His brow furrows.

Even now, with years of practice and honing his technique, there's something pulling at his chest, a strain on his halo that tells him that this is wrong. Even if the Tree accepts his call and responds in turn, he can never fully accept its embrace. It is suffocating, its hold, and it is oppressing.

It swallows him as though it were the Voracity, engulfing him in its jaws and consuming him, draining him of all that he is. It forces itself upon him - it eats away at him, and his breath is almost taken, almost snuffed, save for the small sliver of mercy that keeps him alive. It dominates the once carefully balanced conversation, and it commands him, trust me, accept me, join me, become me.

And Sunday has never been one to like being commanded.

A pleasant conversation morphs into a spiteful argument, a battle for the upper hand, venom dripping from each of their tongues as each tries to take control. As Sunday struggles against the roots, the orchestra becomes strained, the tempo becoming faster and faster, and all of the strings crescendo until it's loud, far too loud.

The strain in his mind transfers to the physical realm, and the staffs so carefully penned by his sword flicker and waver while his halo begins to glow in the effort to keep it all under control. His brow furrows and his movements become frenzied, frantic, until the Tree rebels yet again, and he's had enough.

Frustration flares and he brings down his hand and cuts off his connection with the Tree, tearing through the melody and ending the performance there. But then he realizes what he's done, and shame floods out his annoyance.

A sigh leaves him.

Losing his composure... how unbecoming of him. He forces himself to pay attention to his breath, and the hand that isn't holding the rapier curls into his palms, the familiar prick grounding him.

He should know better than to be so easily moved. He inhales deeply, raising his gaze to the ceiling, and exhales.

There we go.

If the orchestra won't obey, he will command them. They are forged from his very blood and tied to his veins. They are him, in a sense, and he will not stand for a civil war.

He raises his sword once more, and to the orchestra, he speaks - Again.

And this time, he leaves no room for argument.

His rapier is a guide and a scripture as Imaginary drips from it once again. With the orchestra in toe, he begins to move.

Combat to him is not unlike a dance, in which the participants are himself, his opponent, and his sword. He has learned the hard way that brute strength, as much as it would be useful, is not his forte (spending one's life asleep does wonders to their physical state), and so he must rely on precision and observation to gain the upper hand.

He steps, swiftly and with purpose, and the Tree is his partner. Wisps and streaks rise from where his feet had once touched the ground, and with every stab at a fictitious enemy, the Tree strikes with him in the form of diamond stars and sound waves. Sweat beads at the back of his neck and his hand trembles with the strain of keeping the Tree under control, but he stands firm nevertheless.

But then he hears a squeak - an awfully familiar squeak, belonging to a companion he hasn't seen since the fall - a companion that only appears on two conditions: if they are called upon, or if he is in danger.

And he didn't call upon anyone.

There's a tingle on the back of his neck, and he swerves and narrowly avoids a stab towards his eyes. His Echoes rush to his defense, swarming his assailant and driving them back in a storm of gold lights.

He hears his attacker splutter with surprised laughter as the Echoes bat at their face angrily, some even ramming into their sides with their heads or tugging at their clothes with what little strength they have. It takes him a second before he realizes just who his companions are attacking.

"Enough," he commands. The symphony dissolves as his rapier lowers and his other hand raises to placate the swarm. Immediately the Echoes retreat to his side, keeping their nonexistent eyes on the person before him, to which he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Was that really necessary?"

You bat away at one last belligerent Echo that was particularly keen on head-butting your cheek (it does absolutely no damage) before turning to him with that smile of yours.

"Just testing your reflexes, princess."

In your hand is the sword that nearly stole his sight. A thin taper of obsidian steel, it lies loosely in your grip. Veins of neon blood ran through its blade, its color far too bright for Sunday's liking.

But the hue seemed paler than from when you briefly fought with Blade; it isn't as acidic nor as blinding as back then, but it still unnerves him nevertheless.

You throw his Echoes a brief glance with a chuckle. "I've yet to see those before. Are they new?"

"No." Sunday shakes his head. He pets one with his finger to calm it down, as the majority were still baring their metaphorical teeth towards you. "For as long as I can remember, these little ones have been by my side. They're... rather protective."

"I can tell," you hum a laugh. Taking a step forward, you test your luck with the strange creatures. Many back away defensively as you approach, although one or two linger curiously. "Aw, aren't you the cutest?"

Sunday sighs as you pinch one of the Echoes. The doll unleashes a flurry of squeaks as you toy with it, stretching and squishing it like a stuffed animal while its siblings squeak furiously and swarm you again.

Reaching into the crowd, his arm parts the figurative sea and grabs you by the scruff of your neck. With a tug and a pointed look, he pulls you out of the mob's fury.

"Please refrain from teasing them, doctor," Sunday reprimands softly. "I'm afraid they can only take so much before they become overwhelmed with anger."

"How terrifying," you reply cheekily, shrugging off his grip. "But that's a tough request. Just look at them; can you really blame me?"

To further prove your point, you reach out and scratch a nearby Echo under where its chin should be, your smile widening as it struggles to decide between squeaking in indignation and purring in content. Eventually, however, it gives in and leans into your touch, vibrating happily as you scratch it.

After a few minutes of this, Sunday clears his throat. Last time he checked, you were here to spar, not play with his familiars, even if the sight was admittedly endearing.

You spare him a glance, he returns it with a pointed look and raised brows. Thankfully, you get the message and release the Echo without any objections.

Sunday glances to the Echo as it returns dazedly to his side. Raising his hand, he allows it to hover just above his palm.

A silent conversation unfolds between the two of them, with Sunday raising a brow and the Echo assuring him that it was fine - even if he can sense its content, it never hurts to make sure. His halo glows momentarily, before he lowers his hand and dismisses his familiars.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asks in mild amusement, turning back to you.

"Mhm," you hum with a smile, eyes still lingering on the spot where the Echo used to be. "How about you? Ready?"

Imaginary sparks on his rapier, but Sunday pays it little mind. "As ready as I can be, I suppose. But shouldn't you warm up?"

You shake your head. "It isn't necessary. You'll see when on your first mission: You have to be ready to fight at any time and place. Warming up is a luxury reserved for beginners and athletes."

And then, as if to prove your point, Sunday sees you move before a flash of black cuts through his vision, and only by instinct is Sunday able to dodge. Only this time, you don't stop with just one strike, no, it's one after the other and Sunday curses internally and meets you with his rapier.

If Blade is a raging torrent, then you are a lightning storm. You move with the speed and viciousness of a viper, never staying in one place for too long and focusing the majority of your power into swift, seemingly never-ending stabs. It's methodical and almost surgical, the way you jab and twist and cut away at him with terrifying precision, but it's a dance Sunday can get behind.

Strike, shift, dodge, parry, strike again.

It's a rhythm that Sunday eventually falls into once the initial shock ebbs away into an afterthought. He grits his teeth and pushes through, his feet never setting on the ground for more than a second before he's forced to jump aside once more.

And for a moment, his gaze locks with yours, and a brief smile slips onto his lips as he finally finds his figurative footing. Slowly, the dance turns into his favor, and he begins to push back, daring to strike back and attempt at hitting you - but you are too quick, too experienced, and like Blade, he is unsuccessful.

But he's keeping up, surprisingly, and that is enough for him. For now.

At least, that's what he thought.

Once you see that he's acclimated, you switch up the tempo. What was once a waltz morphs into a violent tango. You duck under his arm and jab and then-

He hears a pop. And for a second, there is nothing.

But then comes fire. It burns and stings and eats away at his flesh, and he feels it travel from his extremities all the way to his abdomen, circling, concentrating, enveloping that specific spot.

Sunday gasps and lurches back, hand already clutching his wound before he registers what has happened. He looks down, expecting the worst - he expects blood warming his hand, he expects flesh and ripped skin, he expects a gruesome scene.

But when he tentatively removes his hand, breath rattling his chest, there is almost nothing. There is blood, yes, but not much - only the slightest bit beading at the miniscule incision you've made in his stomach.

He furrows his brows, his mind running at impossible speeds to comprehend what had just happened. First is shock, then there is bewilderment, and then betrayal and then anger and then bewilderment again.

There is not a single hint of remorse on your face. No, your face is an undisturbed lake, already poised to strike again - and you do. This time you scrape his shoulder - but Sunday doesn't let you hit a third time.

The gold of his eyes gleams, and the next time he swings, Imaginary coats his blade and a slash of sound fires. With the shock from being stabbed still lingering, the attacks aren't as strong as he'd like, but they are enough to fend you off until he's recovered.

At least, that was the plan.

Just when he thinks the fire is over, lightning strikes. His body seizes up and he doubles over, coughing hideously into his already sullied hand. His rapier dematerializes. The glow snaps away from his halo and his eyes and his powers are deemed null. Every nerve is set alight, frenzied and panicked, as the rest of his body locks into stone.

"Wha-" Sunday clamps his mouth shut, appalled by his own voice. It slurs and sounds as if it'd been passed through a filter, nothing like what he is meant to sound like.

If you have an answer, he doesn't hear it. But he sees you, he sees your lips moving, and then it's your shoes scrunching up against the floor, and then it's your sword, and he realizes-

Panic seizes him, and then dark violet floods his vision, tinged by hints of the sun but bespeckled by the stars. He can't see, he won't see, his mind racing too fast to process whatever his eyes are telling him. His heart pounds in his ears, and all he can hear is the sound of his own breath.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Is he dying? It seems so. But he doesn't want to die, he can't die, not without the dream, not without that paradise, not without seeing Robin one last time.

And with that thought, the paralysis breaks. Sunday gasps as strength surges into him and he regains control of his body, and he nearly topples over as his knees almost give in from under him. But he manages to catch himself in time and avoids yet another humiliation.

He clutches at his chest, catching his breath. His body still quivers, and yet, he can stand just fine. The venom's sting begins to subside - although not completely, but enough strength has returned so that he can push it to the back of his mind.

But most importantly, he's alive. His hand, the one that isn't dirtied, trails up from his chest to his throat, feeling at where the edge of your sword should've cut. But there is nothing to be found. His skin is intact, with no sign of blade or cut.

"Wow, you've been holding out on me. I'm almost offended."

Sunday flinches at the sound of your voice and he whirls, only to not find you anywhere. His brows furrow in confusion, before you speak again-

"Up here, princess."

Sunday turns, and immediately his mind blanks. He blinks. Then he rubs his eyes. Then he blinks again.

"What in the world...?" he mutters.

At least you seem to be as confused as he is, although fond pride graces your smile despite it all. But that's not the confusing part - or at least, it isn't the most confusing part.

You hang upside-down from the ceiling, dark, vivid indigo thorns binding your feet together and your arms to your side. Your damned sword is still in your hand, but with the vines wrapping around you, you can't make any use of it.

"You tell me," you quip back, shaking your body slightly so that you can swing around like a punching bag. Sunday leans back to avoid you smacking into him. "I mean, they're yours, aren't they?"

What? Sunday shakes his head. "That can't be right. I've never even seen these before. Are you sure you didn't accidentally self-sabotage?"

Your face falls flat into a deadpan. "If I were that sloppy, I wouldn't be here anymore. These vines are yours."

"No," Sunday insists. "My abilities lie solely in the Imaginary, never Quantum. I've never..."

But he has,Sunday suddenly remembers, trailing off. You raise a brow.

"You do know that people aren't confined to one single element, right?" With a flick of your wrist, your sword slashes through the vines, the shreds of Quantum falling to the ground. You land on your feet and catch the handle of your sword in one fluid motion. "Take me for example. When using my sword, I'm of the Physical element. But any other time, I'm of Quantum."

You bend down and pick up a stray vine from the ground. It flickers and warps in your hold, a new constellation shining in its branches whenever you move.

"Webs's got something similar going on - She's both Lightning and Fire," you say idly as you come up to him. "So I'm not sure what you're worried about."

"That's not the issue," Sunday sighs. He steps back when you offer him that stray vine. "I have always been Imaginary. That other element- No, those powers, I have avoided using them for a reason."

As much as he wants to tear his gaze away from those vines, he can't. They glimmer back at him, inviting but patient.

No.

"So you have seen these before." Twirling the vine around your finger, you raise a brow at him. "They're pretty decent, especially to have caught me off guard. Why don't you use them more?"

Sunday sighs.

"They originate from the Harmony. And, well," he breathes an awkward laugh that doesn't quite meet his eyes, "my relationship with Xipe isn't the greatest as of right now. It wouldn't be wise to call upon THEIR blessing. Not unless I want to provoke the wrath of an Aeon."

It isn't the complete truth, but it is enough to get the message across.

And besides, he thinks, Xipe is... weak. Strong for the many, but weak for the few. If Sunday wants to survive in the kind of environment that the Hunters call their norm, he can't rely on such a Path.

No matter how right it feels.

And yet, despite that thought, there's that little nagging voice in the back of his mind. The memories of his earlier practice resurface briefly in his mind.

"If that's what you want," you hum. You let the vine fall from your wrist and dissipate into flickers of light. "But if you ever need help with controlling those things-"

His clipped tone comes out harsher than he intends. "No. You've helped me enough."

But you hardly react. "Suit yourself."

Sunday blinks. He straightens, expecting something more, but all you do is start playing around with your sword, presumably readying yourself for another round.

"Aren't you going to attempt to persuade me otherwise?" he can't help but question.

You snort, flipping your sword into the air. "You're not a child; I'm not going to make your decisions for you."

Catching the dark handle as it falls, you point your blade at him once more, and Sunday instinctively takes upon a defensive stance, rapier poised to protect.

"But, if you want advice," you say, "there's a saying we often go by: 'When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you know you won't regret.'"

Sunday stills.

A choice?

His mind flashes back to the script Elio had given him.

At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.

Always with the choices, it seems - ironic, considering that he never had much of a choice when it came to joining the Hunters. His options were them and the IPC - it didn't take a genius to see which was the safe option.

But... No, that wasn't fair. Up until Elio had spoken to him, he had been completely willing to lay his head beneath the guillotine, to atone for his sins and to accept his punishment.

He had chosen this path.

And Elio had chosen him.

And soon, he must choose a fate for an entire planet.

That's why he is here, after all.

He doesn't need a weak Path such as Harmony - he won't need it. He refuses to.

And with that, his mind is set.

Seeing how he straightens, tosses aside his dirtied glove for a clean one, and brandishes his rapier towards you once more, you smile approvingly.

"Ready for another round?"

You needn't ask. A step, a lunge, and a swing of his wrist, and the dance begins once again.

—

Unfortunately, you never did stop with the stabbing (something about him just "having to get used to it", which he isn't happy about). His entire body is littered with the smallest of scratches, cuts, and punctures from where you've nicked him, and he's pretty sure that half of what runs in his veins is venom instead of blood.

Movement spurs in the corner of his vision. Kicking off of a nearby exercise machine, you leap into the air and bring your sword down upon him in a one-handed strike, but unlike before, Sunday is ready for it.

He jumps out of the way and summons his Echoes at the same time. With their support, strength returns to him, and the Imaginary tree's whispers fear his ears once more. The orchestra sings, and their tune shoots out in sharp flickering missiles towards your landing figure.

But you are quick on your feet and easily maneuver around the projectiles, slipping and swerving like an otter does through water as they shattered around you. The veins of your sword glow, and so does the outline of your form.

His Echoes squeak in warning and he just barely manages to tilt his head in just the right direction before he hears the wall crack behind him.

With a start, he realizes that you'd thrown your sword. Blood beads at his cheek at where it had grazed him. But that's the least of his problems. You're still running at him, after all.

You jump and aim a kick towards his head. Sunday's wings unfold rapidly and he winces as pain slams his joints, but he manages to propel himself out of the way so that you hit the wall instead. Without so much as missing a beat, you grab and wrench out your sword and kick off the wall towards him.

Obsidian meets silver in a fierce clash. Sunday grunts as you press forward, having to use both of his hands to keep his rapier steady against your attack. Rapiers were never meant for blocking, but you leave him little choice.

The standstill persists for a short while, and Sunday realizes you're waiting - waiting for more of that godforsaken poison to kick in. And just as that thought passes through his mind, lightning attacks again, and he jolts, tasting iron.

And that is enough for you to quickly change the tune of the dance.

Maintaining full eye contact, your blade slips from the clash and throws him off balance. Instead it comes up from under, and its handle scrapes against his palm just enough so that you can once again knock his rapier out of his hands and off clattering against the floor. There is a cold sensation against his chin, and Sunday realizes that it's your sword.

He sighs, raising his hands in yet another defeat. With a hum, you step back, and with you goes your sword.

"That makes five now," you hum, fishing out a vial of concerningly colored liquid and tossing it to him. Sunday sighs as he catches it.

"I can hardly call this fair," he mutters, unscrewing the vial and downing it like a shot of vodka. The antidote burns similarly to the alcohol, but rather than being bitter it is sweet like fruit tea - which he appreciates; alcohol was never his favorite beverage, and will never be. "You know, most would call using poison dishonorable."

"Good thing I'm not most people. Wanted criminal, remember?"

Sunday rolls his eyes as the cuts and aftershocks from the poison ebb away. You will never stop bringing that up, will you?

Before he can retort, both of your phones ping. At first, you elect to ignore it, pushing it to the side in favor of opening your mouth to speak. But then it pings again, and again, and again until you get the point and let out a frustrated groan.

"I swear, if it's Elio telling us to buy ink again," you mutter, fishing out your phone. Your brows raise. "Nope, it's worse."

"Who is it?" Sunday asks, grimacing as he flexes one of his hindwings. He must've opened them too quickly back then and pulled something in the process.

"Webs," you reply, already typing out a response. Your sword dematerializes and you walk off to sit down on a nearby bench against the wall. "Let's take a break - oh, and let me see your wing while we're at it."

Pausing, Sunday blinks at you. Was he being too obvious about it?

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he makes his way over to you. This time, however, the pings are more frequent and somehow, more heated, if that makes sense. You're probably arguing with Kafka, or... whatever the two of you do. You're fine enough on your own, and Kafka is... eerie, at best, but put you two in the same room, and Sunday wants nothing more than to bolt.

And to think he's going on a mission with the both of you in a week or two.

He sits down with the injured wing hanging limply towards you, already dreading his future. Almost instantaneously your hand is upon it. A gentle swipe of your thumb over where he's pulled a muscle or two, mending the fibers there, and the lazy yet methodical sifting through his feathers in search of other injuries, and Sunday instantly relaxes, a dull hum thrumming in his chest as he moves to get his phone.

But then, because apparently this universe wouldn't be happy if Sunday didn't suffer at least once every day, he catches sight of the hand he'd coughed into a while ago, and he freezes.

Technically speaking, he knows that his hand had been protected from the grime, and the only dirty thing is the glove sitting in his inventory. He has already replaced the sullied glove, there is nothing diseased on his person anymore.

But it doesn't stop his irrationality from suddenly pulling the already clean glove tight against his fingers.

It's not tight enough - yes, it is, Sunday, you can see the outline of your hands, you can feel it, it's tight enough, you're fine, nothing touched you- But what if it did? What if he coughed something out and it seeped through the glove and it touched his skin and now he's dirty and he should wash his hands- No, calm down, you are fine- but he doesn't know that, should he check? He should check.

Sunday nearly pulls up the wrist of his glove, until his thoughts assault him again- What are you doing, Sunday? Are you crazy? What if they see? You're dirty, you don't need to-

He pulls the glove back on so harshly it might've torn. But it doesn't - he makes sure of that, adjusting it yet again until the voices begin to quiet down enough for him to think properly.

"You okay over there?" you ask suddenly, glancing up from your phone. Sunday's mind starts running again, but Sunday himself appears to be calm.

"I'm fine," he assures, customer service voice resurfacing unconsciously. You raise a brow.

"If you say so," you say, clearly not convinced. Sunday prepares himself for an interrogation, but you return to your phone and drop your hand from his wing, evidently done with your treatment.

Sunday flaps his wing reflexively, pleased to find that the ache is no longer there. His phone vibrates in his hand, reminding him of why the two of you were sitting down and not sparring in the first place.

The second he opens the group chat, he's immediately assaulted with spam messages that make him regret opening it in the first place, and all thoughts of his gloves meld into the background noise of his mind.

Sunday lets out an exasperated sigh along with a shake of his head.

He can already feel his brain cells shriveling and withering away. Who was it that said that the Stellaron Hunters were a terrifying terrorist group, each capable of destroying entire empires with a mere pull of their finger?

Especially Kafka - she was the Hunter with the highest bounty and the most infamous out of all of them. Sunday had already long lost any expectations he had about you, but at least he still had some respect left for the quite frankly, creepy enigma that was Kafka.

Now, he isn't so sure.

Still, he can't deny the amused smile that was slowly creeping up upon his lips. He sneaks a look behind him, no longer feeling your hands on his wings, and he finds a similar grin on your face, a snort escaping you every so often as you play up this charade with Kafka.

A sharp pain smacks his shin. Sunday hisses and glares at you, to which you only smile at him from the corner of your eye.

"Hey, you're supposed to defend me," you chastised, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "Not give the local pyromaniac a reason to attack me."

Sunday rolls his eyes with a smile.

"I'll defend you when you replace this shirt," he says, tugging at the high-necked collar that hugs his form. At least, it did. Now it was littered with cuts and tears in the fabric, all done in by a certain medic. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make much use of it now."

"Hold on, pyromaniac's yelling at me." You quickly type out a few paragraphs in your defense.

Once you've (somewhat) escaped Firefly's wrath, you set the phone down and assess the damage you've done to Sunday's attire. Even if his wounds were now healed and the poison neutralized, fabric wasn't something you could heal.

You raise a brow. "How many of those did I get for you?"

"Five," Sunday answers automatically.

"And the old man has never torn up a single one? I find that hard to believe, considering how rough he can get."

Sunday cringes, his abdomen aching from the mere memory of all the times Blade has drop kicked him there. "To be honest, I'm just as surprised as you are."

You squint at that, before your phone pings again and you check it. Thankfully, it isn't another onslaught of messages from Firefly that you need to defend yourself from, and so you don't pay it much attention.

"I'll ask Webs to stitch it up for you," you say, patting him on the shoulder. "Unless you want me to head back to Euphrosyne and raid them of their entire stock."

Much to his horror, Sunday almost considers it. But then he comes to his senses and shakes his head. "That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?" You prop your elbow on his shoulder, leaning into him. "It's doable, just give me ten minutes, a couple of bombs, and-"

Sunday pushes your face away with his finger, his ear wing coming up to act as a shield between you and his face. "We are not committing bioterrorism on an innocent planet."

"Who's we? Technically, it's only me, and that planet isn't exactly innocent, if you know what I mean-"

"[Name]."

You raise your hands in surrender as he narrows his eyes. "Alright, point taken. Oh, also, Webs's talking to you. Might want to answer before she starts calling you a homewrecker again."

"We can't have that," Sunday chuckles.

...What did he just get himself into? Sunday slowly turns to gauge your reaction, to which you only shrug, which isn't helpful at all.

"You'll be fine," you say. "Probably. Most likely. 50-50. Depends on the hour. Depends on how much she's had to drink."

He raises a brow. "How comforting," he says dryly.

You pat him deftly on the back before standing up and stretching. "It is what it is. We should go, though. Wouldn't want to keep the good lady waiting."

He moves to follow you, but before he can stand up, his hand comes to touch his throat, and he remembers the shirt, the shirt ruined by your hands.

Panic takes him by storm. He can't be seen like this. You are one thing - you've seen his wings at their worst, mangled and messy, but Kafka is another. Kafka is a higher up. Kafka is a senior. Kafka, in a way, is his boss outside of Elio.

And if she sees him like this, untidy and messy, he'd throw himself out into the cosmos and accept his death there.

But he doesn't have time to go into his room and grab a jacket, does he? Not if you're to head in at the same time, and he refuses to be late or have you wait outside his room while he changes into something more suitable. But what other choice does he have?

He begins to dig at his palms again, but this time, the pain fails to ground him. If anything, it makes his raging thoughts even worse as he thinks, thinks, and thinks of what he can do, what he could do- By THEM, this is why he always made sure everything was in order before he left the room. But you had to ruin-

His fingers dig harder at that thought. Irrational anger is swallowing him, and he tries to drive it down- It's a spar, Sunday.A spar with real swords, no less. He should've expected this. He knew what he was getting into- But for you to stab him? Wait, why is he still sitting down? Stand up, move, already, you idiot- Why did you have to ruin him like this?

He looks up, halo beginning to glow despite his rational telling him to step back and just breathe, only to get smacked in the face by a ball of thick fabric.

"Wha-" He sputters and takes a step back, indignance and pure, utter, bafflement replacing his anger at record speed. Catching the fabric as it falls down, Sunday's eyes widen as he realizes what it is.

"Are you done freaking out?" you ask dryly. Your sword has reappeared in your hand and there's tatters of cloth on the ground by your feet. "Put that on if you're so worried about looking decent."

Sunday turns the hoodie around apprehensively. It isn't the one you bought for him - it's too bright in color for that, and Sunday wasn't one to wear this color if he could help it. Not only that, but the fresh cut where the back is supposed to be is ragged, making it obvious that the hoodie wasn't tailored this way.

You didn't have to... His brows furrow. Why did you do this? For him, of all people- and what you said, before, did you notice yet again?

That won't do. He's never been this bad before. He needs to relearn what made him Sunday, Head of the Oak Family. He needs to relearn the art of performance, needs to remember how to push down weakness and cover it with expensive paint.

"Did you wash this?" he blurts out, tearing his gaze away from the hoodie. You snort.

"Just the fact that you asked me that tells me a lot about how you view me. What the hell. After I just cut it up for you, too?"

"I apologize. It's-" Sunday inhales, wondering how in the world he was going to word this without sounding paranoid. "It's a habit of mine."

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms. "Yes, I washed it. It's straight from the inventory, so don't worry, you won't catch anything."

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"I know," you chuckle, "no need to get all worked up. Now are you coming or what?"

Sunday hastens to throw the hoodie over his head, patting his hair into shape as he follows you out of the training room. With his body still admittedly warm from the sparring, it's uncomfortable and admittedly disgusting to have such a thick sweater over all of it, but he'd rather melt covered up as opposed to being exposed in such a disheveled manner.

"Are you sure about this?" he still asks as you step into the hallway. "With all this sweat-"

"I don't care, princess," you sigh. "You don't even have to return the thing. Mercy knows how many hoodies I've got in my wardrobe - letting go of one isn't an issue to me."

Sunday's hand comes to grasp at the neck of the hoodie, feeling the fabric. He looks away from you, his gaze falling to the constant motion of his feet.

"I appreciate it," he murmurs, wings coming up to cover some of his face. You hum.

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for."

Sunday feels his cheeks warm slightly. His wings shift further up his face. "Friends... That is what we are, isn't it?"

"Yeah," you say as if it were obvious. "What else would we be?"

He shakes his head, his wings unfurling to reveal his soft smile. "No, this is enough. I was simply caught off guard, that's all."

You furrow your brows. "To be called a friend? That's... concerning."

"Don't look too far into it."

"I'll tell Elio to ring you up with a psychiatrist."

"Please don't," he sighs. You snicker.

"No promises."

The conversation fades into a comfortable silence after this, with the only sounds being the gentle pit-pat and tapping of your footsteps. Sunday spots a new graffiti on the wall that separates your door from Silver Wolf's. This one is of a raccoon, one that oddly looks similar to that one grey-haired Trailblazer with the baseball bat. Beside it is an Origami Bird that resembles Silver Wolf. As the two of you pass, a vividly orange flower snaps playfully at him, but unlike the one he's yet to replace, it doesn't seem hungry. It placates under your touch.

"I wasn't lying, by the way," you say suddenly. Sunday glances at you with a tilt of his head. "About what I said in the group chat. You're doing better than any of us expected."

"Thank you?" Sunday isn't sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment. The corners of your eyes crinkle.

"I'm being serious. I'm surprised you were able to fight through my poison at all, even if it was a mild one. Any other person would've given up the second the paralysis hit. But you managed, somehow. So good on you."

Sunday stiffens. Not knowing what to say, he merely gives you a nod of appreciation. His footsteps slow slightly as you come up to Kafka's mahogany door so that he stands behind you. As you raise your hand to knock, he feels a slight prick at his wrist - and this time, it isn't of his own doing.

As subtle as he can, he risks a glance down at that hand.

The pointed edge of a thorny vine peeks out from under his sleeve, the dark purple taunting as it sways ever-so slightly.

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[libraryofolive]

i have a drabble request and i hope it makes sense but i was thinking of when reader is dating jjk men (the usually group you do) and then you guys are out on a date or something but then they just propose out of nowhere or something along the lines 🥰 just thinking something like that would be cute🥹 love your work btw❤️🫶🏼

Proposals

featuring: Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto (didn't defect au), Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna (true form), Takuma Ino and Hiromi Higuruma

genre: pure fluff, drabbles

word count: 6k

a/n: Thank you so much for the request anon, I had a lot of fun with these! I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Like this? You can find my other smaus here and my drabbles and fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

To say Gojo was a nervous wreck was an understatement. You were quite possibly the only thing in the entire world that had his palms sweaty and his heart beating a little too quickly. He was Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud - he was the strongest sorcerer of the modern day, yet you had him reduced to a bundle of nerves akin to a blushing schoolboy. He was patting his pocket every time you looked away, checking again and again that that little square box was still there. He could take down a curse without breaking a sweat, so why was he so goddamn nervous?

Earlier that day, he had taken you out and pampered you to the extreme. He always spoiled you rotten, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, date nights were often date days, your loving Satoru taking you out to buy a new outfit especially for the date he was going to take you on that night, usually topping it off with a nice meal at some high end restaurant. You had no idea about the treasure hidden away in his blazer pocket, chalking his nervous jittering up to a sugar high.

After a delicious, albeit incredibly expensive meal, Satoru had convinced you to walk the scenic route back to your shared home. Calling it the ‘long way home’ may have been an understatement, as he lead you in the opposite direction you expected, heading further away from your apartment rather than towards it.

“Toru, my feet hurt. Can we please head home? I’m so tired.” You said after 15 minutes of walking.

“I promise baby, just a tiny bit longer. Then we’ll go straight home.” He pulled you along by your arm, practically dragging you along with him as his pace quickened and quickened. You sighed, giving in to his antics, knowing that when he got like this it was easier to just go along with him.

Eventually, he brought you to a clearing in a park, the trees covered in strings of fairy lights. You took in the scene before you, the warm glow from the fairy lights illuminating the clearing, and the flower petals lining the ground of it. Satoru gently took hold of both your hands, standing in front of you, a big smile on his face and tears glistening in his already captivating eyes.

“Baby, I have never been happier than when I’m with you. You have always supported me, even in my less than mature ideas. With you, I don’t have to be Satoru Gojo, the strongest. I can just be your Toru, your boyfriend who is head over heals in love with you. But that’s not enough for me anymore - would you, please, let me be your Toru, your husband? Will you marry me?”

When Nanako and Mimiko had burst into your room, claiming that Suguru had a big surprise for you that day, but they couldn’t tell you what it was, your interest was piqued pretty quickly. The girls were never the best at keeping secrets, often telling you all about what your boyfriend had planned for you out of sheer excitement. However, this time, when you asked them what he had planned, they went quiet and giggled. You pressed them a bit further, asking again what he had planned, but they just shook their heads and continued laughing. They refused to answer you, and this was certainly out of the ordinary.

Your earlier interaction with the girls was in the back of your mind throughout your date. You weren’t anxious, just.. anticipating what surprise could possibly so top secret not even the twins would tell you about it. Suguru seemed perfectly relaxed as the two of you wandered around the art gallery he had brought you to, often comparing you to the artwork adorning the walls. He knew you loved quiet outings like this, and he loved the way you stood and studied the art that filled the rooms. He held your hand the entire way around, happily letting you drag him between the pieces you wanted to admire as long as it meant he got to admire you.

Eventually your stomach started to rumble, so the two of you decided to head home. The thought of trying to cook wasn’t a pleasant one, and you find yourself hoping that you boyfriend’s big surprise was just getting some take out so you could both relax with your girls. Suguru had entrusted them to the care of their Uncle Gojo today, so you could have the whole day to yourselves, Suguru had said, but the way he smiled as he said it made you think it was part of the surprise they had warned you about.

You walked into your apartment, the sunset making the open living room glow. What took you back, though, was that the furniture had all been moved to the edges of the room, leaving a wide open space in the middle, flower petals covering the floor. Suguru led you to the middle of the room when soft music started playing from the speakers around the room.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, brow furrowing at your partner.

“You are the most amazing partner I could have ever asked for. You love me - and the girls - so unconditionally, and I don’t know how the hell we survived before I met you. You are the glue that holds our little family together, and you fight for us every single day. Just being around you makes my day so much brighter, we- I can’t live without you.”

“Suguru…” You whispered. As he started to sink onto one knee, everything clicked into place. This was what the girls were talking about earlier - your theory solidified by the high pitched giggles you heard coming from their bedroom. You peeled your eyes away from Suguru, looking over in that direction, and sure enough, you could see three eyes watching you through a crack in the door way.

“Gojo is watching you propose?” You giggled at Suguru.

“He what?” The man in front of you turned around, eyes narrowing at his best friend who stood in a poor attempt at hiding with the twins. He grumbled slightly before turning back around to face you. “Why did I trust him to help?”

“It’s okay baby, it’s all kind of perfect.” You reassured your lover.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so much, it hurts. Will you marry me?”

Wining and dining you was Nanami’s specialty. Every restaurant he took you to was amazing - he knew all the best spots in town for whatever cuisine you might be in the mood for. You both loved food and eating well, especially if it meant enjoying a nice meal in each other’s company. However, this meant that when it was time to propose to you, Nanami felt like a simple candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant was too boring, too mundane. You two were always going out for dinner, so surely something as monumental as a proposal needed something more special, right?

He had thought about how to propose for months. Buying you a ring was the easy part, but actually planning his proposal? Nothing he could ever come up with felt good enough for you. You were so perfect, the light of his life, so he reasoned you deserved the perfect proposal too. Nothing too elaborate, he decided, as the more there was to it the more there was that could possibly go wrong.

You had noticed a slight change in your boyfriend over the last couple of months. He seemed more distant, more prone to zoning out. It worried you - every time you brought him back to the real world with a mention of his name he seemed flustered, his face going red, but also... frustrated? The first few times it happened, you brushed it off, guessing that something must have happened at work. Recently, though, it had been happening more and more often, which led to you confronting him one night.

That night, you had cooked a hearty meal together, opening one of your nicer bottles of wine. You decided to wait until after dinner to talk to your boyfriend, hoping that having full bellies - and a glass or two of wine - would take the edge of what could turn into a prickly conversation.

“Ken, we need to talk.” At your words, Nanami’s heart stopped. That was break up speech, he thought, if only he had been quicker with his proposal. Why did he fester on it for so long?

“Is everything okay, honey?” He tried to keep his cool, but his heart had started beating too quickly, as if it was trying to make up for his previous palpitation. His palms were sweaty as he reached for his glass, willing his hands not to shake.

“You’ve been a bit… distant, lately.”

“Distant?”

“Okay, maybe distant isn’t the right word for it. Distracted, maybe.”

“Distracted?” He hated himself for it, but Nanami stopped hearing your words as his thoughts spiralled. If he was listening, he’d know there was no chance you were ending the relationship, your words full of reassurance, offering comfort and to share whatever burden had him so distracted. But he wasn’t listening, instead internally freaking out over the fact that he thought you were going to break up with him because he was too busy thinking about how to fucking propose to you that he didn’t actually pay enough attention to you. That he was so fixated on making everything perfect for the currently fictional proposal he had negatively impacted the real relationship he had.

“Marry me.” He blurted out, interrupting you. You blinked at him, mouth open as if it was forming your next word, which it probably was before your partner spoke.

“What?” You gaped, eyebrows practically meeting your hairline.

“I- oh my god.” Nanami patted his pockets, shit, he had left the ring box in his blazer pocket. He had had the ring on his person ever since he bought it, heaven forbid he lose it or that you find it prematurely. Not that it mattered anymore, thanks to his impromptu proposal. He stood up, accidentally knocking the table as he did so. “Just - excuse me, for one moment. Stay there, please.” He rushed to where he had previously discarded the blazer of his suit, which was hanging on the back of your shared bedroom’s door.

“Kento, did you just- come back, we should talk about this.” You stood up, ready to follow him, also knocking into the table, but you managed to tip over your wine glass. “Shit.” You reached for some tissues to mop up the spilt wine as Nanami emerged from your shared bedroom, holding a small box.

“I am so sorry, my love. This was not how I imagined doing this.” He got on one knee, opening the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, “You mentioned me being distracted earlier, and I have to admit, I have been. But only because I have been agonising over how to ask you one simple question - really, who knew four little words would bring me such frustration? You deserved a proposal as wonderful as you are, and I can’t begin to explain how happy you make me. My whole life I was just floating around, doing what everyone told me I should without real meaning. But you, being with you, brought me the meaning that I was missing. I apologise for being distracted sweetheart, and for just blurting this out without a real plan, but the thought of you leaving me-”

“Who the hell mentioned me leaving you-”

“The thought of you leaving me had me so distraught that I just had to ask. Please, darling, will you marry me?”

When it came to proposing to you, Choso went straight to his brother for advice. With all the films Yuji had watched, Choso reasoned he must have some ideas about how to go about it, or at least how it was supposed to go. Yuji had told Choso a basic formula he could adapt to suit you - buy a nice ring, big romantic gesture, down on one knee and ask the question after a big romantic speech. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult, right?

Wrong. Choso was stressed. He loved how observant you are, how well tuned you can be to his thoughts and feelings, but God did he wish you’d turn it off sometimes. It was great when he came home after a long day, and he didn’t have to say anything, you just knew he was upset and knew exactly what to do to help him. But when you had picked up on his nerves, and he didn’t have a lie prepared to get you off his back (not to mention just how bad Choso was at lying to you in particular) he had stuttered out some lame excuse as to why he was so nervous. Okay, maybe not a lame excuse, but rather a crazy, completely over the top one.

“I’m only nervous, because…erm…” his face heated up, “Yuji is in the hospital!” Choso had smiled, proud of himself for making up an excuse on the spot. But to you, Choso had a mad grin on the face at the thought of his younger brother - who meant the entire world to him - being in the hospital. Yeah, you called bullshit. You had seen Choso freak out because Yuji had once nicked his finger when chopping vegetables one night whilst he helped Choso cook dinner. If Yuji was in the hospital, Choso would be sat next to him close to tears. Your boyfriend never lied to you, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. However, the thought of seeing just how far Choso would take this lie was an interesting one, so you decided to play along.

“Yuji’s in the hospital?” You forced your voice to sound concerned, “what happened? Is he okay? We should be there! Let’s go, now!”

“Er, no.”

“No? What do you mean no? You’re little brother’s in the hospital, he needs your support right now!”

“I, er, I didn’t mean no, I mean that erm, we can’t, because er, visiting hours are over! We have to leave him be so he can rest.” Oh how his blushing face and proud-of-himself smile made him so adorable. Why did he have to be so cute when he was lying to you?

“I- then we’ll go sit in the waiting room or something. He’s like my little brother too, Cho, I want to make sure he’s okay.” Choso’s heart swelled at your words, at your insistence to go and check on Yuji, even if it was thwarting his plans slightly. If anything, it only made him more sure that he wanted to marry you, to be yours forever. Family was everything to Choso - Yuji was everything to Choso - so knowing that you cared so fiercely about him too was the best feeling in the world.

“Okay. We’ll head over there now.” He conceded, grabbing his keys. You didn’t expect that to be his answer - shit, was Yuji actually in the hospital? Was he okay? What was going on? Choso was freaking out just as much as you were. Why did he say that? Would everything be ready? You would be there hours earlier than planned. Wow, he thought, I really suck at this.

The two of you climbed into Choso’s car, him driving. The car was full of nervous energy and an awkward silence filled only by the radio. “Are you sure we’re heading the right way, Cho? I thought the hospital was in the other direction?” You eventually asked him. What the ever loving fuck was going on? Were you being kidnapped? He had been acting weird lately, was this why?

“We just have to make one stop on the way. I promise we won’t be too long.” Choso smiled at you in what he thought was a reassuring way, but it just made your suspicion grow. Eventually he brough you to… a strawberry picking field?

“Cho, as cute as it is that you brought me to where we had our first date, I really think we should head to the hospital if Yuji’s there. Reminiscing can wait.” You said, on edge.

“Please, just, trust me?” You nodded your head sceptically, giving in to your boyfriend’s whims. He grabbed your hand excitedly, pulling you along with him to the end of the field. There you saw a pink head of hair that was undeniably Yuji - at least you knew that your initial guess was right and that Yuji was okay - but then what the hell did the two brothers have planned? You were swimming in questions, the lake full of them that was your mind only getting deeper with every step.

“Cho, you’re early! I just finished setting up.” Yuji also looked nervous. You halted your steps, demanding answers from the boys.

“I’m not taking another step until the two of you tell me what is going on. You told me Yuji was in the hospital, Choso. I didn’t believe you at first, but then you started acting really weird and I got worried and thank God he’s okay but what the fuck are you two up to?”

“You told her I was in the hospital?” Yuji turned to his brother, confusion all over his face.

“Please, lovely. Everything will make sense in a few minutes. Just trust me for a tiny bit longer? Please?”

“Yeah, c’mon y/n. I’ve been setting this surprise up all day. Trust us?” They both turned to you, matching puppy dog eyes pleading with you on both their faces. It was times like this where you could really see the family resemblance.

“Fine.” You sighed, making Choso pick up your hand again and drag you another 100 metres or so. There you found a big picnic all set out, complete with the cliché plaid blanket and wicker picnic basket. It was overflowing with all of your favourite foods, and there were a few battery powered tea lights scattered about. You took a few steps forward in surprise, taking it all in.

“What- what is this?” You tuned back to face your boyfriend, only to be met with him on one knee, holding up a pretty ring in a box that resembled a strawberry. Yuji was off to one side, filming the two of you on his phone, a wide smile on his face as he gave Choso a thumbs up in encouragement. A gasp escaped you, your face breaking out into a wide grin.

“Family is everything to me,” Your boyfriend started, “you’ve always known that. You treat my family as your own, you always have. I mean, you were just freaking out because I accidentally told you Yuji was in the hospital-” ”You’re such a bad liar, baby-”

“I know.” He chuckled, “You love and accept me, and always have. But when I saw that love and care extend to my brother, well I knew I had to marry you. My whole life, I’ve been told I’m just half curse - a monster. But with you, I’ve always felt so human, so whole. I’m addicted to that feeling, to your love, to you, I, I can’t live without you. I won’t live without you. So, will you marry me?"

A proposal from Sukuna, was, well, less of a question and more of a command. You were one of his concubines - the key word being ‘were’ because for a long time now you had been more than that to him, not that he wanted to admit it. He still kept the other concubines around, sure, but that was for reputation more than anything. Dismissing those other women would mean the king of curses admitting that he felt something for you, something you never thought he would do. Until now.

You were summoned to his throne room - not the most unusual thing in the world, sometimes Sukuna liked to have a pretty thing like you on his lap to show off to the servants as he went about his business as the King of Curses. As you made your way to it, the rest of the estate was eerily quiet. Often you would walk past the other concubines, their teasing laughs and scathing remarks made out of jealousy following you around. The King of Curses had never had favourites before, treating all of his concubines equally (like scum on the bottom of his shoe, the way he had always treated everyone) until you captivated him. All of a sudden his attention was solely on you, wanting only you to warm his bed or decorate his arm.

You arrived to the throne room, and there was Sukuna in all his might, his usual cocky smirk decorating his face. The entire estate was there, watching you - it made you pause. Sukuna beckoned you over, and you find your place in his lap. One pair of his arms situated themselves around your waist, and one of his remaining hands cupped your face. He brought your lips to his own, kissing you hungrily. At this point, you had grown out of being embarrassed at such public displays - everyone was beneath Sukuna, so why should he care what they thought of him and his actions? If he wanted to kiss you, hold you, perhaps even take you, why would the presence of these people stop him?

He pulled away from you, still holding your face.

“You are to be my queen.” He said.

“What?” You were taken aback, brows furrowing.

“You are going to marry me and become my queen. You are to permanently move into my chambers, and a tailor will be with you later today for fittings.”

“Sukuna, my lord-”

“Are you trying to deny me?” His gaze turned ice cold, enough to induce a shiver down you spine and goosebumps along your arm. His grip on your waist tightened in warning.

“No! Of course not, my Lord!” His grip relaxed.

“Good. We will discuss this no more. You will wear this as proof that you are mine.” He produced a ring, slipping it onto your finger. It was beautiful, you had to admit, and it fit you like a glove. You wished that his proposal could have been more romantic, or at least a bit more private, but this was Sukuna, what could you really expect?

You and Toji Fushiguro had been dating for two years now, and you were incredibly happy. You had been one of Megumi’s teachers, drawn to his handsome father but refusing to act on your feelings, deciding it would be improper to fraternize with the parent of one of your students. However, on Megumi’s last day of school, and the last day of being your student, Toji showed up to collect Megumi, but not leaving until you had agreed to go on a date with him. It was the beginning of a joyous - if sometimes tumultuous - relationship.

You knew about Toji’s first marriage with Megumi’s mother. He had told you briefly about it at the beginning of your relationship, and you had learnt more details as the relationship progressed. Because of it, you had never expected marriage out of Toji, especially with the connotations of loss he held with it. What you didn’t know, however, was that as Toji learnt to love again - through loving you - he realised that marrying you wouldn’t take away from his previous marriage. He saw how your eyes sometimes lingered on wedding dresses in the windows of shops you passed by, or the way you so eagerly fawned over your friends’ engagement rings. Soon he was thinking about how he would propose to you, and before he knew it, he was buying a ring.

It was a simple proposal - all-out romantic gestures were never really Toji’s thing. He took you out for a nice dinner, for which he dressed himself up in a suit. Seeing him all dressed up set off bells in your head, not quite alarm bells, bur rather a signal that something was happening on your date. Toji never got dressed up unless something was truly important, hell, you had to force him into a pair of slacks when he met your parents. So Toji dressing smartly out of his own accord? Yeah, something was going on.

The restaurant he took you to was fancy. What was even fancier was that Toji had reserved the terrace completely for the two of you, which was entirely lit with the soft glow of candlelight. The two of you enjoyed your meal together, but you couldn’t help but wonder what your boyfriend was up to. Once your desserts were clear, and you two were on your last drink of the evening, Toji slid a small velvet box your way over the table.

“Oh? A gift?” You asked.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Toji’s voice was quiet, the way it sometimes gets when he’s nervous.

“What’s the occasion?” You gently picked up the box, opening it to reveal the elegant ring inside. You gasped.

“Doll, I love you so much.” Toji’s words were slow, and those that don’t know him may mistake them as hesitant. But you knew they were only slow to keep in emotions that were threatening to overflow. “After my first wife died, I was so lost- I didn’t know what to do with myself. But then I saw you with Megs, looking all pretty in that summer dress you were wearing, so kind, that I went insane. I spent that entire year trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out, and on the last day I knew it was my last chance. You said yes, and I looked crazy, couldn’t stop smiling - even Megumi asked if I was okay. And every day since, you just keep making me happier and happier. Will you marry me?”

When it came to Ino Takuma wanting to propose to you, there was one person he knew exactly who to ask for advice. But when he explained everything to his mentor, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Nanami’s answer.

“To be perfectly honest, Ino, I’m not sure if I can help you with this. It should be completely from you. Just be genuine and speak from the heart. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other, I’m sure they will be happy with whatever you come up with.” Be genuine. Speak from the heart. Ino could do that! But proposals are a big deal, and he wanted to do something romantic for you. A surprise of some sort. But what? He wanted it to be as special as you are to him, something that showed you just how much he loved you. Ino spent a long time thinking about it, probably a little bit longer than he would like to admit.

Eventually, he settled on an intimate proposal, just the two of you. He brought you to an open field with a bunch of your favourite snacks packed for an evening of stargazing. Your evening was perfect - a nice night out with your favourite person in the world, spending hours laughing and enjoying each other’s company (and making out), just the two of you.

Although, you picked up on your boyfriend’s nervous energy pretty quickly. He was jittery, and he kept patting his pockets like he was scared of losing something. You clocked on to the fact that he had something else for your night planned, but were clueless as to what. He also kept sighing, as if he was working up the courage to say something, before chickening out again. Eventually, you couldn’t take it much longer. The two of you were lead out on the picnic blanket, your head on his chest, one of his arms around you and the other under his head when you finally asked.

“Is everything okay, Takuma? You seem to be sighing a whole lot over there.” You lifted your head to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

“What? Yeah, all good baby. You don’t have to worry about me!” Ino smiled at you, but there was still a nervous energy surrounding him. You let it go, though, until it happened again.

“Okay, that’s it.” You sat up, making your boyfriend prop himself up on his forearms to look at you, eyebrow’s raised, “I appreciate that you want this to be a cute date night, but I can’t just sit here and relax if something’s bothering you. Talk to me ‘Kuma, what’s up?”

“Nothing’s bothering me, per se, I’m just nervous ‘bout something.”

“Nervous? About what?” You asked as you watched Ino stand up, before lowering himself onto one knee.

“About this.” He brought the ring box out of his pocket, opening up to reveal the ring he had bought you. Any words you wanted to say got caught in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes. “You are just, so amazing. I can’t fathom the idea of not being with you. When I first saw you, I knew that you were going to be the person I ask to marry me. You’re so kind, and thoughtful, and beautiful, and I just love you so, so much. Will you marry me?”

Recently, your handsome lawyer of a boyfriend had been incredibly busy with work. You couldn’t blame him, knowing how busy his firm had gotten and how dedicated he was to his clients, desperately trying to get them that ‘not guilty’ verdict. As much as you didn’t hold any malice to Hiromi Higuruma for his busy schedule, you couldn’t help but miss your lover. He was leaving for work earlier and earlier, and returning home later and later, to the point where there were days you didn’t see him at all, the only evidence of his presence being the crumpled sheets on his side of the bed. Before long, you brought up your feelings to him, surprising him at work one day and forcing him to take a lunch break for once. He understood your every word, and the two of you decided you would go on a much needed date that weekend, so that you could really spend some quality time together.

What you didn’t know, though, was that whilst yes, one of the reasons for Hiromi’s absence from home was due to an increased workload, another was for planning a proposal, which he had planned to take place that weekend. So when you told him that you missed him, his heart hurt, but when you suggested a date that weekend he eagerly agreed - telling you to leave all of the planning up to him. You had protested, claiming that he already had enough on his plate, and that you could handle this, but he refused the idea. He had been planning this for weeks, after all.

It started with him surprising you with a bunch of sunflowers at your workplace on the Friday, along with a note instructing you to go to a certain address when you went on your lunch break. Your colleagues noticed how much more chipper you were that day, and their questions were answered with you sighing happily and gushing over your boyfriend. You went to the address Hiromi had given you, finding yourself at a nail salon. You went in and told the technician what had happened earlier that day, to which she smiled knowingly and asked you how you wanted your nails doing. Confused, you told her you didn’t have an appointment, to which she informed you that your boyfriend had made one on your behalf, instructing them to charge it to his card and to tell you to let him treat you and to get whatever you wanted.

You returned to work, admiring your freshly done nails, but stomach grumbling. Between getting to the salon, getting your nails done and getting back to work you hadn’t had any time to buy some food, and you had left your lunch at home. However as you sat down at your desk you found your favourite take out waiting for you, with a note.

Enjoy, my love. There are more surprises to come. - H

Your heart swelled with love for your boyfriend. He was pampering you to the extreme, as if he was giving you all of the attention you had craved for the past few weeks in one day.

The rest of the work day was uneventful, until Hiromi himself came to pick you up from work. A weekend getaway, he explained. He had already packed for you, and the two of you were leaving immediately. He couldn’t get distracted by his work if he wasn’t near any of his work, he had reasoned. So you let him whisk you away to a log cabin in the woods that he had rented for the weekend for the two of you. The broad grin you were wearing never left your face as the two of you drove, happy to once again have the undivided attention of your lover.

Your first night in the cabin, the two of you cooked together and had a quiet night in to recharge from a busy work week together. The next day, though, was planned in excruciating detail by your boyfriend.

It started with a hearty breakfast, before spending the day at a woodland spa together. Then, it was back to the cabin to get ready for a nice meal at a local restaurant, and then a late night walk to the lake that was a short distance away from your cabin. All in all, it was a relaxing day spent at each other’s side, catching up on all the time together the two of you had missed recently. As you got to the lake, you stood taking photos of it on your phone, the beauty of the scene, lit up in the silver moonlight, rendering you speechless. What left you more speechless, though, was when you turned around to try to convince your boyfriend to take a picture with you. But when you turned around, he was on one knee.

“My love, I have to apologise for being so busy these past few weeks. It’s true that my workload got bigger, but it also coincided with me planning this weekend for you, so that I could ask you this question. You mean everything to me. You are my reason for waking up in the morning, and are the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. You keep me sane, you stop me from working myself into an early grave, and I find no other comfort that can compare to being in your arms. Will you marry me?”

[jenneyquinn]

𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

in which the pine tree and llama are the epitome of soulmates (continued) w/c: 10.6k words *not proofread* (actually 2 words shy of 10.6k, but hey, who's counting? masterpost

once winter had its fun, spring rolls around, and so does that one day that everyone either looks forward to or is dreading with past trauma.

for mabel and dipper, they are one of both outcomes; respectively.

it was so uncharacteristic of mabel to not be excited over a holiday that spreads so much joy and love—regardless if it's platonic, familial, or romantic. as for dipper, he was never really much for luck in that department (love, that is), though not as sociable, let alone well known as his sister, he is very much content with being alone for the most part—especially knowing, deep down, he is grateful to have a family who loves him.

however, dipper felt that this year would be different. he didn't know why, couldn't put a finger on it, but he noticed that something would be stand out amongst the other years as the boy realizes that is isn't as disgusted with valentine's day as he commonly was before.

"duh—it's obvious why you're thinking about that, bro-bro."

"huh? oh, it's because we're technically teenagers and we're at that embarrassing phase in our life where romantic pursuits are more irrational and desperate to compensate for our lack of self-confidence?"

mabel rolls her eyes before answering.

"no, it's because you have a cru~sh! and you just can't wait to call her on valentine's day~"

"what?! that's—"

"don't worry, because being the matchmaker that i am, with the resume of skilled expertise, i can proudly say that i—mabel pines—will get you the valentine's date of your dreams!"

"but—"

"you can't say no, it's already happening."

"no."

"ALREADY HAPPENING!'

given it was already the first of february, it was going to take mabel less than two weeks to pull this off; presuming that she could, that is.

so, on that wednesday night, dipper lies awake at night, thinking about that special someone, despite fighting his feelings for so long. he doesn't want to admit it out loud, but dipper knew, subconsciously, that his sister indeed saw through him, and he is crushing on someone; bad and hard.

the first time dipper had ever lied awake at night, it was about wendy corduroy, the girl he ever seriously crushed on. though, as time passed after his confession, he stopped thinking about her that way. it look him time, fighting all those thoughts during the day while they continued their friendship, and many nights as she remained in his dreams; if he wasn't dreaming about his parents, that is.

however, when dipper lies awake this night, he isn't thinking about wendy. not at all. on the contrary, he's up all night, thinking of another girl—one he knew was perhaps just as (if not more unattainable) than wendy.

eventually, the guy gets some sleep, and mabel has already come up with a whole list of ideas to help her brother in his otherwise, lack of romantic expertise.

however, dipper fights mabel every step of the way, insisting that he has a plan of his own. though he is grateful for the support, the kid genuinely had a clear idea of how he wanted valentine's day to go, and as long as he's got his confidence—dipper is sure he'll have his first good valentine's day yet.

finally, when the big day comes, mabel's nothing short of estatic.

"oh my god, what are you gonna wear? please tell me you're going to wear something good?? what are you planning to do for your date??? it better be something fun! you don't wanna make a bad first impression by doing something lame—in that case, i have to make sure you avoid anything remotely boring!!"

dipper simply blinks, getting everything but also none of the words that just left mabel's mouth right now.

"uh… i guess i'm just going to wear what i usually wear. i mean, i didn't plan to go anywhere fancy anyways. saves time and energy for later, right? i even put together this nice gift and everything…"

"aww, dipper~" mabel coos, clasping her hands together at the last part of her brother's reply, "whatcha get her? actually nevermind, you can tell me later. i'm sure she'll love it anyways!"

then, she takes a quick look up and down at her brother, inspecting his outfit before continuing: "are you really going to wear… that?"

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing? i wear this every day!"

"i know, it's not bad, but that's the point—" mabel pinches the bridge of her nose with impatience, taking dipper by the hand, "look, we still got a couple hours before you're going. surely, there must be something presentable in that closet of yours… that's hopefully been washed."

so, thanks to mabel, dipper was able together a simple, but clean outfit for his first valentine's date: a marine-blue unbuttoned oxford shirt with a cream-white tee underneath, paired with a casual pair of black jeans and his shoes; completely gaining the latter's approval.

"now go on, enjoy your video-chat date with pacifica~"

"w-wait!" dipper exclaims. "how did you know—"

"oh, would you look at the time? candy and grenda must be waiting for me to join their call bye~"

"mabel!"

"look, i apologized, didn't i? i've been trying to be nothing but a do-gooder; no more evil business for me. even gideon is trying to give me a chance. so, sunshine, what is your deal?"

growing impatient with pacifica's rejections, dipper finally corners her at the ballroom of gleeful mansion—speaking in a hushed tone as to not draw any attention from anyone else.

the former, on the other hand, narrows her eyes; frowning deeply.

"you wanna know why i haven't forgiven you, gleeful? i was the first person to trust you, and what did you do with that?? you toyed with my feelings, deceived me—all for your personal gain?! how dare you think my feelings can't be justified when you suddenly decide to turn things around!"

dipper was baffled, to say the least. so, pacifica continues talking.

"what if will decides to return to you guys? what then?? is it the end of you and your family's redemption arc???" she asks, her facial features now beginning to soften as her eyes start to water and her nose going red as she sniffles.

"i don't want you to hurt me again. i'm not going to let you hurt me again."

as pacifica begins to run off, dipper instantly goes after her.

"pacifica, wait!"

then, out of the blue, the blonde is halted in her tracks. a ray of blue flames stike her, thereafter transforming pacifica from her authentic human state to a wooden statue of her likeness.

dipper gasps, reaching out to her: "pacifica!"

"gideon!"

mabel cries, redirecting her brother's attention to the now-wooden gideon pines; taking the mage aback even further.

suddenly, the gleeful twins hear a bellowing laughter, the source of them coming around the fireplace. a grandfather clock tolls, as the duo take sight of the ghost staring at the gleeful family portrait.

"a forest of death, a lesson learned, now the gleeful manor will burn!"

as the ghost of nathaniel southeast continues laughing, setting the family portrait aflame, mabel calls out to the entity.

"hey ugly! over here!"

the ghost seizes his laughs, spotting the gleeful twins.

"you want us to let in the townsfolk?" dipper asks, "'cause we'll do it! just change everyone back!"

nathaniel scoffs, "you wish to prove yourself? pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town! fulfill your ancestors' promise!"

pointing to the lever which opens the main gates, dipper looks from the lever to the wooden pacifica. then, for a moment, her voice rings in his head.

"i was the first person to trust you, and what did you do? you toyed with my feelings, you deceived me—all for your personal gain!"

you deceived me.

"she's right," dipper admits to himself.

"huh? who's right??" mabel asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"mabel, our family has been nothing but liars and cheats. how about we do something right for a change?"

without saying anything further, mabel simply gives dipper a nod in the affirmative; grabbing onto the lever with him.

the twins share a look, then look back at the ghost as they pull down the lever together.

nathaniel gasps as the main gates which once divided gleeful mansion and the commonfolk of the town swing open. as the townsfolk swarm into the manor in waves, the ghost is finally appeased.

"YES, YES, IT'S HAPPENING!" the entity rejoices, "MY HEART, ONCE AS HARD AS OAK, now grows soft, like a birch or something."

as the gleeful twins look up at the ghost with satisfaction, the latter looks back down on them, equally satiated.

"dipper, mabel, you two aren't like the other gleefuls." nathaniel says as his spirit begins to ascend, "i feel… lumber… justice…"

with that, everything in the mansion returned how they used to be: the portrait showed no signs it being previously engulfed in flames, all the resurrected animals were back in their deceased state, and most importantly, all the people originally in attendance had been free from their wooden prisons.

even pacifica, who takes a breath of fresh air as soon as she's freed.

"pacifica!"

dipper runs to pacifica, visibly worried as he pulls her close to him in a tight, protective embrace.

"dipper?"

"you're… you're actually safe…" he exasperates, pulling back to look at her, "look, you were right. i was being selfish and i did mess with you just to get what i wanted, but i didn't fully realize how much i've hurt you until now…"

"dipper…"

"when you were encased in wood, i… i thought that i lost you. i… i… don't want to see you like that again. i don't ever want to make you sad again."

before he could even notice, a single hot tear runs down dipper's cheek, still holding his gaze at pacifica.

"i… i know it's too late for you to trust me… and i clearly don't deserve your forgiveness… but i do wanna try. i want to be a better person."

while pacifica listens to dipper's impassioned confession, she couldn't help but to focus onto the tear that runs down his face. then she looks back into his eyes—which she finally took in for the first time. though it was a glowing blue when they first met, she noticed how the loss of the amulet and will's emancipation from the gleefuls had effected dipper's eyes from the absence of power.

they were brown. it was nothing special, but it was like pacifica was actually seeing him for the first time. if she thought there was good in him before, it finally shown in his eyes now.

so, pacifica does the only sensible thing she could think of.

"oof!"

holding onto him tightly, pacifica buries her face into dipper's shoulder; trying not to cry.

"thanks, dipper. i… i forgive you."

"wait! where are you all going?! we're supposed to look for dipper pines, remember?!"

when pacifica sees all the government vehicles backing up and driving away from the mystery shack, she's enraged. after all this time, she finally thought that she would be getting him back—but why were the government guys leaving?!

"ahh!" pacifica yelps in shock as a pig runs past her, chomping on a drive labelled 'PINES'.

so, she looks up to the source of where the pig came from, back to the mystery shack, and simple to say the least—she could have never expected what, or rather who, would be standing before her eyes.

"great-uncle mason, that was amazing!"

pacifica's eyes widen at stan's words, as he approaches the aforementioned man with his brother. but whatever happened to—

"let's not go crazy; it was serviceable."

well, speak of the devil, the blonde thinks as the con-artist walks into the scene with the shack's handywoman, lita. welp, time to get over there and give that lady a piece of my—

yet, the man's chuckles cut off pacifica's thoughts: "thank you kids, but please, call me dipper."

dipper?!

"dipper..."

his eyes crack open the slightest bit before shutting again.

"dipper..."

he hears the voice once more, but the weight of his eyelids win another time, drawing him back to unconsciousness.

"wake up, dipper!"

he shoots up, fully awake at the sound of mabel's shouts.

"gah! mabel!" dipper frowns, turning to the digital clock atop his bedside table before shooting her a look. "this better be worth waking me up at seven in the morning for—you know it's apring break, right?"

"exactly—it's spring break, bro-bro. the first day of spring break."

mabel points to the calendar hung on dipper's bedroom wall; specifically on a date that reads 'pacifica visits'.

"yeah, yeah, pacifica's visiting." dipper mumbles, tucking himself back to bed and pulling his covers back up.

it takes him a second to realize the words that just left his mouth, then he really wakes up.

"pacifica's visiting!"

he throws his blanket aside, bolting right up from his bed, scanning his room left and right.

"oh my god, my room! i need to- i gotta-"

"stop hyperventilating, dippingsauce," mabel says, amused at her brother's behaviour, "that's why we're up early. we've got six hours before pacifica, candy, and grenda's bus arrvies at the stop. so, as your personal matchmaker, i'm here to make sure your room's spotless—as well as you. i'll never forgive myself if i let you talk to your girlfriend without taking a shower first."

"a shower? i'm fine, mabel," he rebutes, lifting up his arm to take a sniff from his pits, which he immediately comes to regret, "besides, pacifica's not my girlfriend."

"not if you don't take a shower, she won't." she jokes, poking him. "blop!"

so, after taking a shower while his sister gives him a head start on spring cleaning, dipper rushes to get ready and look decent for his crush special friend.

unbeknownst to the twins, three visitors had already made their way to the pines residence.

"ah, pacifica! so nice to see you again, sweetie." mrs. pines greets, giving the girl a welcoming hug.

"and i believe you two must be candy and grenda," mr. pines points out, also giving a warm welcome to the two girls, "of course, mabel's friends are always welcome here."

"as well as dipper's friends." mrs. pines winks, playfully nudging the blonde's arm; causing the latter to blush.

candy and grenda also giggle, making pacifica more flustered.

"but seriously, our kids have told many stories about you three," mr. pines says, gesturing them inside as he picks up the girls' bags, "pacifica and mabel's golf tournament, grenda's prince boyfriend in austria, and even candy's little crush on dipper."

"oh!" pacifica says, then she leans towards candy, continuing in a teasing tone. "well, i didn't know about this."

another day of weirdmaggedon dawns upon gravity falls, not that dipper gleeful minds. in fact, it's just like another regular day for him: he gets up from bed, changes out of his pajamas and into his turquoise suit, and walks out into the town.

just as he promised, he makes his way to the giant floating bubble in the sky—the pink one that's branded with an illustration of a llama.

good morning, sunshine, dipper greets pacifica in thought, looking up at the bubble; eyes half-lidded and smiling gleefully.

pulling out the key from his vest pocket, dipper unlocks the bubble and enters the spherical-shaped prison.

"ah! dipper, you came back!" the blonde cheers, donning an off-the-shoulder, spaghetti-strapped turquoise dress and her hair done up in a simple, but cute messy bun.

"sunshine, looking as radiant as ever," dipper replies, "as if i should've expected any different."

he takes her by the hand, pulling her close to him. swinging her along the floor, which has shifted from a bedroom to a ballroom setting, dipper looks into pacifica's eyes with adoration, feeling complete bliss.

"hey, dippington? can i tell you something?" she asks softly.

"anything, sunshine," he answers without hesitation, "shoot."

"i'm so happy here." pacifica confesses, smiling brightly. "being here, in my dreamland, with you... it's like everything i could ever want. i don't ever want to leave... i just want to be happy here, with you, forever..."

dipper returns her smile, looking down at her as she rests her head against his shoulder.

"i'm happy to be here with you too, pacifica," he admits wholeheartedly, "i don't think i'd want to be anywhere else, too."

so, the pair slow-dances in silence, letting the soft melody of the ballroom music fill the space instead.

ever since dipper's return, pacifica had intended to catch up with her old friend, but she knew that he already had a lot of catching up to do with his own family.

at least she had her own family to tend to, as well as her own career as gravity falls' top realtor, making her way to becoming the ceo of northwest realty from the past twenty years.

although she hated to admit it, pacifica kind of wished she was able to bond with her grandson preston as easily as dipper's twin sister and their two great nephews.

so, while preston is out on a date with his girlfriend priscilla, pacifica is left to her own devices as she finishes up paperwork for her recent client.

that is... until she hears the ever so familiar ring of the doorbell.

"heh... h-hey, paz," dipper greets; in his own, typical, awkward way, "l-long time, no see, huh?"

pacifica blinks once... then twice... three times, even.

"uh... pacifica?" he waves over her face; worry rising in his voice. "are you alright—"

dipper gets cut off abruptly was pacifica leaps toward him; wrapping her arms over his shoulders and enveloping him into a crushing embrace.

"dummy... don't leave me ever again."

"wait, what?!"

dipper stands in his now-clean bedroom proudly, his hands to his sides.

"you heard me: by the end of spring break, pacifica northwest will be my girlfriend."

mabel clasps her hands over her mouth, trying her best from squealing.

"oh my god, dipper! that's amazing!" she cheers, but then her face blanks—as if she's seen a ghost. "oh no."

"huh? what 'oh-no'? i don't like that 'oh-no'."

"look, it's great that you want to ask pacifica to be your girlfriend and all but.. how do i put this... when it comes to girls... sometimes, you tend to get in your own way."

"mabel, i promise," dipper says, placing a hand to his chest while raising the other, "no lists involved. maybe a plan to reference to from time to time, but no multi-phase lists i need to be following closely."

"okay..." she says hesitantly, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, "so... what's the plan then?"

"well..." he starts, rubbing his hands together.

"first, i figured there would be no harm in taking everyone mini-golfing. i can't impress her, but at least it's something she likes to do. pacifica will have a good time, so it'll definitely get things running in the right direction."

"um... mini golf?" pacifica asks, a bit weary.

"i guarantee you, there's no lilliputtians involved."

looking at him quizzically at first, she chuckles right after.

"okay, nerd. i've been looking forward to having a rematch with mabel anyways. she owes me a fair game, anyways."

"next, we'll go to the mall—it's full of stuff that pacifica likes, right? fashion and deep-fried foods!"

"here you go," dipper says, plopping down a tray of food onto the table before pacifica, "an order of french fries with a vanilla milkshake, just like the lady ordered."

he mimics a bow, gesturing to the fast-food before taking his seat: "just like home, huh? um... you still have a butler, right?"

the blonde giggles, nodding as she picks up a single fry and dipping it into the shake.

"only the one, though. we had to let go of a lot of staff after... you know."

"oh yeah..." he says, remembering the previous video-calls they've had, "it seems you've been adjusting well, though. oh yeah—how's greasy's? lazy suzan able to hold fort without you?"

"definitely. i miss her, though." she answers, twirling her straw. "between you and me, it's nice working at the diner. lazy suzan is more like a parent to me than my actual parents, and it keeps me distracted from thinking about home..."

looking up from the tray, pacifica looks at dipper with a gentle smile: "at least things in your home is better, right? i'm totally jealous of your parents."

"i guess you could say that..."

but it wasn't better. things at the pines' residence wasn't getting better at all. though there was still some sort of harmony in the household, it doesn't mean that his parents weren't still fighting almost every night.

but this didn't mean that things wouldn't be different with pacifica. sure, dipper's parents have been together for over almost two decades, and their marriage has still been on the verge of collapse even after their children had come back from their summer vacation in gravity falls, but it didn't mean—

oh, who was he kidding.

"hey, hello~" his friend snaps her fingers in front of his face, "anyone in there? you've been zoning out, wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

"um... heh, heh! you know what? how about we hit the arcade?? lost my appetite, anyways."

before she could have any input, dipper already grabs pacifica's hand, running down and out of the food court.

"there was also the arcade... but i don't know how she'd take it, but hopefully she'll come to like it. i mean—pacifica loves winning, right?"

"gleeful!"

"hm?" dipper gives a hum as he opens his eyes, peering up. somebody from the outside is calling.

"hey, sunshine, i gotta take care of something real quick." he explains, pulling away, his hands still on hers. "stay put, alright?"

she nods, still smiling: "okay, just... be careful, dip."

"you know i will." the brunette winks, causing his prisoner princess to giggle.

then, he finally departs, exiting the bubble.

"what the heck, dipper?!" gideon exclaimed. "i thought you turned a new leaf?! you said you were going to change!"

"oh, if it isn't lil' gideon—"

"don't call me that!" the small boy snaps back.

"never mind that! i'll have you know that i did, in fact, change," dipper continues, "i promised my sunshine, pacifica, that i wasn't going to hurt her, and i intend to keep that promise."

he then points to the bubble, wrapped in chains: "in that bubble, pacifica won't be hurt. never again. i was willing to let bygones be bygones, but she told me what you've done—and if you think i'm letting you in there, think again!"

"you can't do that, dipper!" robbie shouts. "you think you're protecting pacifica, but you're only imprisoning her!"

"valentino." dipper grimaces, his eyes narrowing and a threatening glint twinkles in his brown eyes. "you can't be any more wrong—pacifica told me herself! i am her protector! thanks to will, he granted me the power to create a dream world for her. in this world, i can shield her from anyone and everyone who can hurt her! even you!"

"but, dipper..." gideon speaks, his voice softens as he tries to empathize with the brunette, "do you really think this is the right way to protect pacifica? just because she's in that bubble, doesn't mean she'll be safe forever. eventually, one way or another, you'll hurt her too. so, when that happens—where will she go? who will protect her, then??"

dipper's cold expression slightly cracks, allowing his former enemy to reach out to him.

"we know you care for pacifica, we all do, too," the white-haired boy gestures between himself, robbie, and melody, "but we're still human. we make mistakes, and eventually, we will hurt each other—whether we mean to or not."

pulling out the slip of paper from the front pocket of his pants, dipper unfolds the paper to look back at the cut-out newspaper article; staring into the old picture of himself and pacifica.

she gave me another chance... even when i didn't deserve it.

"do the right thing, dipper. if you want to be pacifica's hero, please let us rescue her. please let us make it up to her."

"so, let me get this straight..." pacifica speaks, pinching the bridge of her nose in a mix of concentration and confusion, "this whole time, you had a twin sister? but you didn't tell me about her because of she wronged you about thirty years ago?? and then ten years later—she accidentally gets you sucked into this portal that you made??? so you've been stuck in there for the past twenty years until she reactivated said portal—in which she fixed, for the sole purpose to bring you back????"

dipper simply stares at pacifica, still struck by her beauty after all these years. yet, when he realizes a tad late that she had stopped speaking, he shakes his head; getting a hold of himself.

"y-yes. that's exactly what happened."

the blonde blinks once. then twice. then takes a long sip from her coffee; setting it down before slamming the empty mug onto the table.

"you never told me you had a twin sister!"

"well, i didn't think it was relevant..." he mumbles, annoyed.

"of course it's flippin' relevant!" she spats, "whatever mabel did to you in the past, she's still your family! i thought i knew everything about you, but you've been still hiding stuff from me!"

dipper sighs, looking at his old friend with a guilt-ridden expression.

"you're right, paz. i should've been more open with you, instead of being all mysterious and keeping stuff from you. i'm really sorry that i scared you and kept you in the dark all this time."

"ah, forget about it," she waves off, no longer upset. "you're lucky that i'm too old to be fussing over small things. besides, i guess i should be used to it by now, right? you never really trusted me, anyways."

"but i do trust you, pacifica," he says, placing a hand over hers, "i was just being an idiot, thinking that i was protecting you by not letting you into my world, but that's not fair. not when you've trusted me with your secrets. i truly am sorry, paz."

as pacifica looks down at his hand on hers, she looks back up to him; her diamond-blue eyes meeting his doe-brown ones. a twinge of pink spreads throughout her cheeks, letting her old feelings for the awkward man resurface; if only for a small moment.

for the first time in twenty years, her guard is let down again, baffled and stammering by the same guy who caught her heart two decades ago.

"it's alright, dipper." pacifica replies, the smallest hint of a smile graces her face.

"you're here now."

"SUGGESICA WIN!"

"ha, yeah!" pacifica cheers, pumping a fist up in victory, "in your face!"

though dipper wasn't happy at first that he was once again bested by her, he did have to admit—pacifica looks pretty cute when she gloats over a win. it's rare to see her geek out over an arcade game, after all.

"so, what was that again? didn't you say arcades were for nerds??"

"they're only nerds if they can't win," she corrects, poking his chest, "like you."

"yeah, yeah, you beat me," dipper says, rolling his eyes, "now enter your name for the high score so we can start heading back home. dad must've hooked up the karaoke machine by now."

pacifica giggles, inputting the name 'PAZ' before leaving the arcade with dipper; hand-in-hand.

"so, lovebirds..." mabel teases as she, candy, and grenda reunite with the pair, "ready for some karaoke?"

dipper blushes as pacifica rolls her eyes, smirking amusedly: "yeah, whatever. you wish i was dating your brother, it'll give you something to brag about."

"oh, definitely," mabel replies, "because i'm sure there's a lot of girls out there who are dying to say 'pacifica northwest, walking one-dimensional beached blonde valley girl stereotype, is dating my brother!'"

pacifica gasps, feigning offense...

before she laughs along with her former arch-enemy; walking out of the mall in a side-hug.

"look, after you said you weren't going to leave with me and move in my parents and i at the end of the summer, i wanted to hide in my sweater forever."

as pacifica explains her choice to stay in pacificaland, gideon feels the guilt rise within him as he is reminded of his promise from the beginning of the summer.

then, the melancholic expression on her face turns into one of resolve as she finishes her story.

"but then i woke up in a place that gives me exactly what i wanted: an endless summer where we'll never have to grow up! here, the sun shines all day, the party never ends, and now that you guys are here—it's finally perfect!"

"listen, pazzy," gideon speaks, "we're not here to party. all of this is crazy!"

yet, the blonde groans, disagreeing with her cousin's sentiment: "ugh! i figured you might say something like that, gid. would it kill you to be more like dipper sometimes? at least he's supportive of me!"

"sunshine..." dipper calls to her softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "maybe you should go with gideon and the the rest..."

"huh?" pacifica's eyes go wide, suprised by the change in his demeanour.

"what are you talking about, dipper?"

"wait! hold on..." pacifica pants, trying to catch her breath after doubling down in laughs, "you... dated... a siren?"

blushing madly, dipper frowns: "is it really that hard to believe?"

apparently so, since the woman before him couldn't help but keep laughing; unable to control herself.

"uh—yeah?" she answers between cackles, "whew... oh my god, i'm gonna cry... that's hilarious... hah..."

"but you had two failed marriages!" he points out, still red as a tomato.

that doesn't stop pacifica from laughing herself breathless, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she finally starts to settle down.

"true... but i'm an heiress, dipper."

she had a point. twenty years is an awful long time, and it was like pacifica was getting any younger. it was inevitable that her parents wanted to secure their fortune by any means necessary—especially if said means was to marry their daughter off to another rich family.

hence, her two unsuccessful unions with marius von fundhauser and gideon gleeful.

"you never told me... how did you get out of them, again?"

"well, marius and i split because he fell in love with someone else..." pacifica answers, reminscing on her relationship with the austrian prince, "no hard feelings, though. it was for the best."

from the look on her face, dipper could tell that she was being genuine. he always loved seeing her soft side.

"and... gideon?" he winces.

"not as sweet as the papers put it." she replies bluntly. "he was just... too show-ey? even for me, which is crazy. i was able to find an out when i took the reigns on northwest realty—i got the chance to prove to my parents i was more than a pretty face, after all."

dipper chuckles, "as if there was any doubt."

"disco girl!"

"coming through!"

"that girl is you~!"

ooh-ooh's ring throughout the living room, followed by giggles and more of the musical works of dipper pines and pacifica northwest.

"more punch, kids?" mrs. pines asks as she enters the room; a tray of filled glasses in her hands. "gonna need something to drink so those singing voices won't be strained."

so, without any objections, the five kids take a break—drinking punch and catching up on town gossip.

"what?! you broke up with marius?!"

mabel's jaw drops nearly the same time the news drops, but everyone else remains indifferent. sure, candy and pacifica would have already known about this, but dipper was just plain uninterested.

"it wasn't a big deal, really," grenda explains. "there was only so much clinginess i could take!"

"speak for yourself," pacifica chimes in, checking her nails, "sounds to me like you could've been set for life. you were dating the prince of austria!"

"yeah, and it was a long-distance relationship, too!" mabel exclaims, "emphasis on distance!"

"what's distance if he wanted to fly me out to austria every weekend?! the guy just couldn't leave me alone!"

"yeesh," pacifica cringes; her facial expression in her signature look of disgust, "when you put it like that, maybe dumping the guy was right move. i can't imagine dating someone hovering over me like that, laughing and agreeing at every single thing i say."

"ha-ha!" dipper chokes out, blushing madly, hovering over pacifica, "you're totally right, paz!"

as the blonde in question raises an eyebrow, confused, the three remaining girls shares looks of mischief amongst each other; smirking slyly.

"speaking of your dating life, paz..." mabel begins in a teasing voice, "have you... say, got yourself any boyfriends, lately?"

now, it was pacifica's turn to blush—her cheeks a tinted pink.

"uh... no?" drawing out the confused 'no' in her reply, pacifica looks puzzled once more. "mabel, what—"

"AH-HA-HA-HA-HA~" dipper's forced laughs come out more obnoxious this time around, taking his sister's hand as he leads them out of the living room.

"mabel!"

"no... no... not you, too..."

"pacifica, you know in your heart that gideon's right. summer ends."

"but... i don't want it to end! i don't want to go back and... and..."

losing her words, pacifica looks back into dipper's eyes. deep down, she agreed with him wholeheartedly. she knew he was telling the truth.

but they were in pacificaland now. and the truth is not what she wants. especially if all the truth has done was hurt her and continued to do so.

"you said you wouldn't hurt me, dipper."

then there it was. the ache in his chest had returned. it didn't make sense, though! he was so sure that the guilt had been resolved after that night of the party at his mansion... so, why did it come back? he didn't so anything wrong. dipper made a deal with will so he could be granted full guardianship of the bubble and keep pacifica from harm.

she was all fine until that know-it-all gideon pines got in the way... he thinks he knows what's best for pacifica, and look what that go him—after all, he was the reason why the joyful blonde had felt so down in the first place! dipper didn't hurt pacifica, it was all gideon!

turning away from pacifica, dipper looks into gideon's eyes. if he could glare into them long enough, maybe daggers could materialize out of his brown eyes, shooting straight into gideon's blue ones.

what he didn't expect, however, was for gideon to stand his ground; staring back at dipper with the same amount—if not, more—determination than the once-evil psychic.

then, all at once, dipper's own words have struck him, remembering his promise to pacifica.

"i… i know it's too late for you to trust me… and i clearly don't deserve your forgiveness… but i do wanna try. i want to be a better person."

if i want to be more than pacifica's hero... he thinks to himself, i have to be someone worthy of loving... i have to do the right thing...

i have to be a better person.

"but, paz, you don't get it... mabel had cost me my dream school."

dipper repeats for the umpteenth time, lamenting over what could have been. he knew better than to be holding resentment over his twin sister for so long, but he just couldn't shake it off.

pacifica clearly notices this, which motivates her all the more to get her old friend to see sense.

"dipper, mabel and i haven't been on good terms this whole time, but after telling me the whole story, i've begun to see her in a different light." she confesses, laying a freshly-manicured hand atop inter-dimension traveller. "what baffles me is that while you can recall having a rich history with her, but it's only the two instances that she's done you wrong that keep a hold in your heart."

"but mabel was the reason i couldn't get into my dream school! she ruined my whole future in the blink of an eye—"

"she ruined your future, huh?" pacifica cuts him off, cocking a brow. "you want to know what i think, dipper?"

"paz—"

"no, maybe that big head of yours has influenced you in the past twenty years, and now it's got to your mouth—but i'm not going to stand for this. mabel is your twin sister. you guys sounded like two inseperable peas in a pod, but you've let that wrinkly brain of yours ruin probably the greatest friendship you've ever had."

pacifica pokes dipper's forehead for effect.

"sure, woe is you that you didn't get accepted to west coast. i'm sorry you didn't get to go into your dream school, but you went to backupsmore. you did the same work you hoped to accomplished at your first choice of school, but you pushed yourself even harder. if anything—you've probably found more success at backupsmore than west coast!"

"but mabel can't just get off scot-free—"

"your parents threw her out on the streets, dipper!" pacifica exclaims, utterly baffled by his sheer audacity, "things might've not have gone your way, but if they did back then, would you have been happier?"

hot tears begin to well up in the blonde's eyes, trying her hardest not to let them fall.

"you would have never come here! you would have never met... me..."

realizing that perhaps he did let his grievances get the better of him yet again, dipper had easily forgotten that he was only wanted to catch up over coffee with an old friend (maybe even get a second date afterwards), but he's blowing it.

blowing it big time.

"pacifica, of course i'm thankful for the way things turned out. meeting you was one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

"well, it sure doesn't feel like it..." she remarks, refusing to back down.

"look, i understand why you would be upset with mabel. sure, she ruined your chances of getting to your dream school, and got you trapped in another dimension for like, two decades, but she didn't mean to hurt you on purpose—and i think, deep down, you know this too."

though he wouldn't admit out loud, dipper did agree with pacifica's words. maybe it was just easier to stay mad at his sister because some part of him, subconsciously, knew that he was also to blame for where he ended up—especially getting himself sucked into the portal that he built himself.

"besides, if mabel was really as bad as you claimed her to be, then she wouldn't have spent all this time fixing your portal—just to get yourself out. in retrospect, what she did would typically require a prayer and a miracle to do: mabel self-educated in sciences, paid off your mortgage, and kept secrets to protect herself and her family. she did all this, her determined solely based on the very slim chance she could fix her mistake and bring you back home."

he wanted so badly to tell her that she was right. his mouth was already open, but with no words coming out, left speechless by the blonde's truth, he disappointed her; yet again.

"you know, i really missed you, dipper—but it turns out i didn't know you as well as i thought. call me when you decide to stop listening to your head and listen to your heart for a change."

with those final words, pacifica pulls out some bills from her wallet, before getting up from the booth, and out of the diner.

"what?!"

mabel yelps right before her brother frantically slaps a hand over her mouth, then peering over his shoulder to see if her loud reaction drew any attention from their guests.

with dipper's head turned, the other twin takes a chance and licks his hand, causing not only him to retract in disgust, but her as well; forgetting in that brief moment how sweaty her brother really was.

"mabel, seriously?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

spitting out and blowing raspberries with her tongue, she spats: "ugh! when do you ever not sweat?"

"whatever, that's not the point!" dipper replies, still hushed.

after blowing the last raspberries, mabel continues, whispering as well: "you haven't asked pacifica to be your girlfriend yet? spring break's almost over!"

"i know, i know, it's just..." he turns back to the living room, looking solemnly at the blonde; currently laughing along with candy and grenda. "i thought i was ready, i really did..."

seeing the gloom in her brother's face, mabel puts a hand to dipper's shoulder.

"so, what happened bro-bro?"

turning back to face his sister, dipper draws a deep sigh before asking: "mabel, do you think, if pacifica and i start dating... we'll end up arguing more than mom and dad?"

"huh?" she questions, her face puzzled.

"i mean, pacifica and i are just so different... and it's only been almost a year since we've met..." dipper explains, "on the other hand, our parents have known each other for almost twenty years... but that didn't stop them from those big arguments last year... do you think—"

"dipper, let me stop you right there," mabel interrupts, holding her hands up in a 'stop' gesture, "you and pacifica are nothing like mom and dad—and that doesn't have to be a good or bad thing! you guys have an awesome dynamic, whether as friends or as a couple—nudge nudge! the point is, you should ask pacifica to be your girlfriend when you feel you're ready. don't rush it, and definitely don't let other relationships like our parents get to you. after all, there's always summer!"

after giving it some thought, dipper looks away from mabel, turning to pacifica once more, then back to his sister; smiling.

"you make a good point, mabel... thanks. 'sides, there's always summer, right?"

after breaking free from the bubble in which will has imprisoned pacifica, she—along with the company of dipper, mabel, gideon, melody, and robbie—have made their way back to the tent of telepathy.

though found seemingly empty at first, the battle cries of the townsfolk taking refuge in the shack provokes the group of people who had just came from weirdmaggedon.

that is, until one of the folk—the six-fingered one in particular—had spotted their great niece and nephew, almost immediately standing down.

"kids?"

"grunkle ford!" dipper and mabel cheer, rushing to hug the old man.

"i can’t believe it! i thought i lost you two.” he says, capturing the twins in his arms.

“did you really?” mabel asks smugly.

“no,” ford answers, returning a smug grin back at her, “i was looking forward to not being bothered by you deliquents anymore.”

“you can always try again, grunkle ford.” dipper says.

“so, how did you all get here?”

ford then proceeds to recall the events from his perspective as weirdmaggedon unfolded, noting how the tent was the only place unaffected by will’s powers due to the protection of the unicorn hair.

“eventually, all these injured stragglers show up needing a place to stay. since the mayor got captured, i elected myself de facto chief. the plan's to stay in here and eat brown meat until we run out, then eat the gnomes."

as ford finishes explaining to his niece and nephew impassively, a nearby gnome immediately picked up on the chief's plan and gasped in utter disgust.

"hey! i'm short, not deaf!"

glancing from the kids to the gnome, ford remains indifferent.

"survival of the fittest, pal. sucks to be you, i guess."

"grunkle ford, we can't all just hide inside the tent," mabel reasons, "we have to save the town! gideon, stan, and i tried to do it, but grunkle stan ended up getting captured by will."

"serves that jerk right, it's what you get for trying to be a hero." ford remarks, then gestures to the townsfolk taking refuge in the tent. "besides, look at these people. the reason why they're here is not from the kindness of my heart, they're here out of fear—because people blindly following me would be less torturous than following some all-powerful space demon."

"so, you're really going to let will win?" gideon asks.

"kid, we got the best deal we could possibly get." the elder gleeful says, lounging back on his recliner. "be lucky that my niece is all sweet on you, otherwise i'd be kicking you and your cousin out on the streets with whatever townsfolk were unfortunate to not take refuge."

gideon frowns deeply, disgusted and frustrated with the six-fingered man. pacifica, although offended by the remark, is saddened on her cousin's behalf; considering that her uncle and aunt—despite their significant lack of quality parenting—are still out there amongst the chaos.

so, understandably, mabel is furious, and dipper places a empathetic hand on pacifica's shoulder—sharing in her lament.

she couldn't believe it... pacifica had waited for so long... she's waited twenty years, just to see him again.

though she would never admit it out loud to anyone else, pacifica's had dreams about reuniting with her former partner, many of them just a grasp away from a happy ending... that is, until she gets pulled back to consciousness at the final moment, and she realises...

he's not there.

after years of hoping, asking whatever external forces in the universe, just for the chance to see dipper pines one more time.

yet, after that lunch at greasy's, when pacifica finally got the chance to catch up with her old friend, she got to really know who dipper actually was... and it was just like in those final moments before she woke up each morning for the past couple decades.

he's still not here.

so, though it pains her heart to do this, pacifica needs to give dipper space. as long as things between him and his sister remain unresolved, how could she begin to think about having their own relationship mended?

but she's waited for twenty years... she won't mind waiting a little bit more.

take the rift...

"huh?" she scans the town around her. "who's there?"

nobody was nearby. in fact, she doesn't remember seeing the town in such a... monochromatic state. it was chilling, to say the very least.

after confirming nothing was behind her, pacifica shook her head rather wildly, trying to get her vision back. she didn't even summon him... she's fully awake... so, how did pacifica end up in the dreamscape?

suddenly, a being manifests before her. yellow, triangle-shaped, demonic. the blonde recognized him from the pages of the notebook, as well as the numerous tapestries she's locked up in one of the many closets in her mansion. after inheriting the property, stowing those demon-tapestries away was just about one of the first thing's she done to northwest manor.

"stay back!" she roars, standing guard.

"oh, llama, i'm sure your family raised you to be more poised than that." bill teases, swarming around her.

"you're nothing but bad news, you triangle goblin." pacifica spats, folding her arms, her hip cocked to one side. "i know you're like some sort of massive psycho, but you'd have to be even more mindless to think i'd make some deal with you."

"no need to be hostile, llama." bill says, backing away and giving her space. "i noticed that you had a lover's quarrel with pine tree lately, and i just want to give you something small to lift up your spirits."

"dipper and i don't have anything together." she states bluntly, clearly uninterested. "and i'm well off on my own, so if you're thinking of making me like, the richest person in the world, forget it."

"what if i gave you a better pine tree?" he offers, floating about and around her again. "in a snap, i can re-wire the old geek..."

with a snap of his fingers, a phantom of dipper appears before the two, walking towards pacifica with a smile on his ghostly face.

"a pine tree that isn't self-absorbed and all-consumed by science."

though he is a phantom, the animated dipper is able to take pacifica's hand in his. bill's probably controlling me, isn't he?

"a pine tree that can listen to his heart."

using his free arm to circle her waist, this dipper pulls pacifica close to him, his ghastly eyes seemingly consumed by her.

maybe, pacifica can't wait any longer. after all, she is getting old. besides, with dipper being the same age, she knows that he's getting old too. he's finally back home, so perhaps he ought to finally get some rest.

but it's not right. if she let herself sank this low, dipper would never forgive her. heck, she doesn't even think she could forgive herself. he wouldn't even be the dipper she fell in grew to like.

"all i need is this galaxy-looking globe of your boyfriend's. it's nothing big, so he won't miss it. so, whattaya say?"

looking from 'dipper' to bill's hand, ready for a shake, pacifica's determination returns to her; hitting her stronger than ever.

"my pine tree is perfect the way he is."

"what?" bill sputters in disbelief.

"you heard me," pacifica pulls away, staring into the demon's eye, "no deal."

"YOU FAKE BLONDE IMPENDING PATERNITY TEST! DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I CAN UNMAKE YOUR FAMILY'S LEGACY AND YOU'LL BE LEFT WITH NOTHING—"

"i don't care. i have preston, and i have dipper."

"YOU WORTHLESS WASTE OF STOLEN INCOME! IT’LL BE EVEN EASIER TO TAKE THEM AWAY FROM YOU! MAKE THE DEAL, LLAMA."

without hesitance, she raises a fist; completely all out of patience.

"NO!"

"wait, so if the answer to the equation is zero, then why can't x also be zero?" pacifica asks as her eyebrows knit together, staring from the homework spread on her desk back to the dork on video call from her laptop. "anything that's multiplied by zero has to equal zero, right?"

"yeah, but if you applied zero in place of x," dipper explains, amused by the blonde's annoyance. "you'd have two multiplying negative one, making the answer—"

"negative two, yeah, yeah." pacifica cuts him off, waving it aside. "lemme try again, but i need you to shut up for a bit."

on screen, dipper looks deadpanned, but he knew that pacifica was really trying. the school year was almost over, and thanks to insufficient funds to keep her original tutor, pacifica was left to her own devices.

the thing was, he has helped her all year, and she was perfectly confident with her grades... so, why are the stakes so much higher now?

"x equals negative two or one-half!"

"see, i knew you could do it." dipper smiles at her through the monitor.

chuckling at the dopey expression on his face, pacifica feels her cheeks grow warm, smiling back at him. "thanks dipper... but i couldn't have done it without you. actually... i think i might've needed to repeat the eight grade if it wasn't for you."

"you kidding me? you're great at practically anything you put your mind to!"

heh, i hope you're right about that, dip.

what pacifica isn't telling him is how much of a big deal her final math exam really is for her. as far as he knows, it's just her first final exam that she's gotten without an expensive tutor nor the safety net of her parents' fortune to get her into the ninth grade.

"bro-bro! tell your girlfriend ya gotta go! dinner's ready!"

mabel's off-screen call promptly causes her brother to be fully red in the face, momentarily losing his cool; to which pulls a giggle from the other end of his video call.

"sounds like i gotta let you go, bro-bro." pacifica teases, reaching for her laptop, over the sheets and textbooks. "same time, tomorrow?"

"heh, of course." dipper replies, chuckling nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. "sorry about mabel, you know how she is—"

"you don't need to apologize for anything, dork. catch ya later."

the dopey, awkward grin on dipper's face is the last thing she sees before she clicks on the 'end call' button, butterflies swarming in her stomach as she's temporarily allured by the goofiness that is her crush—not that she'd admit it to anyone else, though.

soon enough, those butterflies turn into rumbles, her stomach calling out for food as well.

after shutting her laptop and abandoning post at her desk, pacifica begins to make her way down to the kitchen.

"it's about time you showed up."

preston speaks bluntly as he and his wife are sitting on the dining table, with no food before them.

"we're starving, darling." priscilla says. "we thought we were going to have to wait forever for that... pines boy... to finally end your tutor session."

taking in a deep breath, pacifica sighs just as heavily, walking towards the fridge: "what are you guys going to make me prepare tonight?"

after viewing toby determined by turned to stone, soon to join will’s throne of subdued townsfolk, the remaining people in the tent of telepathy are finally pushed to the edge—the drive of freeing the town overruling their fear of will’s tyrannic takeover.

led by the team of gideon, pacifica, and the gleeful twins, all of the refuged individuals desperately assist tad mcgucket in turning the tent of telepathy into a force for battle.

days later, their combined efforts resulted in the completion of the remodeled tent of telepathy; much to ford’s dissatisfaction.

"thanks for these apocalyspe sweaters, pacifica." melody praises, physically snug in the cashmere. "the end of the world has never felt so comfortable."

"you were always a girl of many talents, sunshine." dipper chimes in, proudly showing off the sweater with a pine tree in the center.

the rest of the refugees are in agreement; nodding and humming.

hearing a shiver from behind her, pacifica shoots mabel a look as she notices she's still sweaterless. desperate to just warm up.

"ugh!" she whines, caving in as she pulls out a pink sweater with a shooting star in the center. "fine i'll wear it," she says, putting it on, "but i'm not gonna like it."

"admit it, this is the best day of the end of the world." pacifica says, taking a seat between dipper and gideon. "i think we actually have a chance to defeat will and win back our future."

"yeah," gideon adds, "can't believe i'm saying this, but i would much rather want to live to see mabel and dipper turn thirteen."

mabel gives gideon a soft smile, something that not even her twin brother has ever seen from her—and surprisingly, gideon even smiles back at mabel.

"if we're lucky, sunshine, i guarantee we'll throw another party at the manor and invite everyone in town."

though she knew dipper was certain about it, pacifica still raises a brow in suspicion; purely out of testing him.

sighing, he places a hand over his chest: "i promise, pacifica."

hearing the approaching footsteps from one of his two nephews, dipper sighs, putting aside whatever work he was currently tending to, now tending to his nephew instead.

"let me guess: stanley didn't take it well."

the young stanford pines shakes his head, regret and doubt starting to spread across his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'm making the wrong decision." ford replies, looking up at his grunkle. "i need to think about this."

"ford, right now we need to focus on the mission." dipper says, trying to pacify his nephew's gloom. "now come on, i've got the glue—hand me the rift and let's make history."

turning his frown into a smile, ford reaches into his supposed backpack, only to pull out—a birthday flyer?!

"what? oh no! the rift!"

it's the last day of exam week, and the weight of the world is on pacifica shoulders... or at least that's how she's feeling right now.

pulling up to the front of the school, the blonde unbuckles her seatbelt, picking up her bag, and is just about to open the door before her father halts her.

"pacifica," preston calls to his daughter, causing her to turn back to him. "you are a northwest. remember, if you don't get a perfect score on that final exam, you can say goodbye to your inheritance."

suddenly, pacifica's taken back to the day of the golf tournament between herself and mabel—and it only makes her feel worse.

so, she doesn't give anything to her dad but an affirmative nod, steps out of the vehicle, and watches as the family car drives off.

once the car was out of view, pacifica rushes into the school and in the washroom, locking herself in a stall.

hyperventilating, the distressed blonde holds a hand to her chest—though it doesn't do anything to slow her breathing nor stabilize the rise and fall of her chest. before she knew it, hot tears stream down her face, and the choked sobs that barely escape from her are just a cork from a full-on piercing cry.

get it together pacifica! she begs in her mind. stop being so weak!

feeling hopeless, the floor in the stall might as well turn into a black hole and swallow pacifica whole. it's still early in the morning, maybe she can just play hooky... and just catch the next bus to piedmont. it's not like her parents would miss her, right? especially when she won't get that perfect score they were hoping for. maybe he was right...

YOU'LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING.

YOU'LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING.

YOU'LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING—

it was only a single ringtone that pulls pacifica from her mind. rubbing her tears away and taking a sniffle, she pulls out her phone and reads the caller id from the screen.

𝗠𝗔𝗕𝗘𝗟 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 💫

pacifica thinks about answering, she really does, but what could she say? the only person she's ever been vulnerable with was her brother.

before she knew it, pacifica lets her phone ring for too long, letting her enemy-turned-frenemy-turned-friend[ish?] go to voicemail.

"hey pacifica! dipper and i are just about to head to school, so we wanted to give you a call and wish you good luck on your math final! remember, no matter what the result is, our support for you is as long as pi! ha! get it? 'cause it's endless?? eh??? anyways, we'll always be proud of you, paz!"

pacifica rolls her eyes, chuckling at the shooting star's oh-so familiar cheesiness.

"mabel's right," a different voice enters the message, "you've done so well in school this year all by yourself, so don't sweat it, pacifica. you're going to nail that final, and even if you're not happy with the score, you should be proud of all the work you've put in this year."

"psst! dippingsauce!" pacifica can hear mabel call out to him, but her voice is rather hushed, likely due to her being some distance away from her phone. "tell paz you less than three her!"

"'less than three her'? what do you mean, 'less than three'..." dipper's voice dies down at the end, dead air follows the voicemail as he figures out what his sister meant.

"MABE—"

just like that, the voicemail ends—or rather, cuts off. pacifica sniffles, but she finds herself smiling. chuckling, actually.

who was she kidding? of course they were right! she's pacifica northwest. the only northwest that ended her family's curse. the same girl who showed up to a family photoshoot because she stopped caring about what others wanted her to be. the llama of bill cipher's zodiac!

bill was wrong, and after all she's done to save their lives—her parents no longer get the privilege to boss her around and treat her like a butler.

so, when pacifica finally cleans herself up, then walks in the classroom to take her final math exam for the school year, she's filled with nothing but confidence. she's pacifica, after all. as if she was going to finish the eight grade with anything less than an A+.

but, her mom and dad can keep that stupid inheritance of hers, she can make her own fortunes.

"this whole plan is insane, but no one asked the chief what he thinks. after all i've done for everyone!"

"hey dipper? mabel?" pacifica calls to them, but looks in the direction of the twins' grunkle. "shouldn't you guys talk to your grunkle? he doesn't look alright..."

"oh, we already know why he's acting like that," mabel brushes it off, only looking at ford for a second before staring back at pacifica, "don't worry about it, pacifica. he's always been this stubborn, but he'll come around. just needs to blow off some steam, that's all."

then, when mabel turns away to continue chatting with gideon, dipper shakes his head and rolls his eyes before talking to the blonde.

"to make a long story short, sunshine: mabel and i have been helping grunkle ford rescue grunkle stan ever since we could remember. after discovering that will had a connection to stan's dissappearance, understandably, we've tortured him enough to surrender and be subservient to us—using his powers and the tent of telepathy to steer suspeciting eyes away. once we got stan back, he only ever expressed gratitude to mabel and i—holding his grudge against ford."

"oh..." it wasn't pacifica, but gideon reacting to his former enemy's story. "so you guys weren't really evil, after all—just misunderstood?"

"nah, with stan's smarts, and ford's con-man skills, we could've easily turned the falls into gleefulland—ow!"

dipper holds a hand to his side, turning back to pacifica, who looks at him with a dissappointing pout.

"jerk. if neither of you are going to talk to ford, then i will."

"so, this is how the world ends. not with a bang, but with a boop-boop."

"weirdmaggedon." ford says, he and his grunkle looking up to the x-shaped rip in the sky—which the younger pines could only assume would be the portal to the nightmare realm.

"the rift is shattered." dipper says, lifting his nephew up as he gets run over by various animals and creatures. "bill's world is spilling into ours and every minute his powers grow stronger."

"stanley!" ford panics as eyes go wide. "the rift must've cracked inside his backpack. he must be in danger. i have to go and find him."

rushing towards the walkie-talkie, ford calls out to stan: "stanley! come in, stanley! stanley!"

"ford. listen to me." dipper calls to the boy sternly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "we can find your brother soon, but right now, we need to stop bill. if we could blast him back through the rip he came out of, we just might be able to stop him before his weirdness spreads across the entire globe."

"are you sure defeating bill is even possible?" ford asks, a hint of uncertainty rises in his voice.

"no. i'm not sure." dipper confesses, but with every bit of courage he could muster from within himself, he looks down at ford. taking a knee down to his nephew's level, the elder pines looks into the eyes of the six-fingered boy—hoping that the next words that leave his mouth transfer a spark of a fight in ford. "but being a hero means fighting back even when it seems impossible. will you follow me?"

"to the ends of the earth."

a/n: omg FINALLY part 2 is done! i just want to take this moment to thank every single one of you for all the support and praise you have given me since i released the first part. i just want to give a heads up that since school is starting again for me, and balancing that with my job, i clearly won't have as much spare time to be working on this fic—but i'll try my best to have the final part posted within two months from now.

writing ilyieu has been so great for me, not just in terms of engagement and the traction i get from other users, but also for my writing. usually, i don't think i would be posting this much writing in such a short span of time... i haven't been this proactive in my writing since 2020 when all i had was quarantine and wattpad, if i gotta be honest.

i hope that this part is just as good as the first, because the next part is going to be last—as it wraps up the stories i have between dipcifica in all thre au's. your ongoing support means so a lot to me, so please send me lots of likes, reposts, and even asks my way! just about any engagement will likely inspire me to keep writing! here, how about i answer some of those future asks right now:

q: jen, your writing is so awesome! do you think alex hirsch will hire you to help him write any future books for gf?

a: uh—i don't have a degree in english or any related subjects, but if he's still willing to pay me—I SURE FRIGGIN HOPE SO

q: do you actually like gravity falls or are you just writing this because the book of bill came out/you just started watching the series/you know gf is trending on tumblr/you wanted to join the gf hype while it's still trending?

a: yes. definitely. absolutely. (stan pines would be so proud of me :,))

q: ur writing sucks/u take so long to post/u copied [insert name here] so unoriginal

a: this is definitely not a rick roll

anyways, thanks a bunch again for your guys' support! you’ve gotten me my first 200+ notes, my recent dipcifica drabble has already surpassed 100 (despite only writing and posting it yesterday), and i’m actually gaining a following (even if it’s small!) i’ll be posting more soon!

taglist: @wwwritererm @a-messy-flower @stormcloudsarepretty @marii-iana @whosbex @seukymin @vegas96 @caro2004 @ghostlyvisiting @frozzuwuwu @cyanside @mcmymuffin @poorlittlerichgirll @invisible-vampire13 @tielmamon @optimussy @hoatzin2 @janis01127 @platonicallyalone @raccoonchild333 @kagura15 @suckerfordylansstuff @cosmic-peonies @ashisuniverse @automaticpandaoperatorpizza

follow #jw: i love you in every universe for more content!

[partycatty]

i’m cranking these out like it’s a full time job

can we get some fluff w johnny where we steal his shirt and he just finds it’s the cutest thing how we practically drown in it

love youuu 💙💙

hehe i wuv him sm

johnny cage > rain

notes: i may not be a skinny queen but swimming in one of his shirts would actually cure me of all ailments forever,.,.., WHY ISNT HE REAL!!!!!!!!! @spacepl4ant

[ masterlist ]

• you and johnny had grown attached since meeting at wu shi academy. sure, you knew about his existence because he's a celebrity, but you had gotten to know johnny as a person as well as his screen persona... not that there was much of a difference.

• regardless, tuesdays were "train til you drop" days, oftentimes fighting or practicing routines for literal hours until you couldn't feel your limbs. everyone dreaded it but knew deep down it was necessary. this particular tuesday just so happened to be raining like crazy.

• you and the boys sparred and swung attacks at each other until the sun set, everyone drenched in sweat and rainwater. you all sat underneath a dense tree. kung lao shook the water from his hair, raiden was wringing out his shirt, kenshi didn't seem to mind too much and johnny was... well, using the rainwater as some kind of strange gel as he slicked his hair back.

• "talk about training your ass off," he groans, stretching his arms. "i can't feel a single part of me." you jab his side, making him whine and swat at you.

• "you complain too much," you wring your hair out onto the grass. "that being said, i'm cold and hungry and tired and i wanna go back to the dorms so i can change."

• "i like your thinking," johnny waves off the group and the two of you skip down the gravel path to the students' sleeping quarters, where your separated but loosely divided rooms held what little items you were allowed to bring with you. it was a common practice to walk around campus together, sometimes even arm in arm as you playfully waltzed down the paths. the other boys gave you a lot of trouble for it, whining about the married couple you pretend to be. neither of you stood up to defend yourselves. if anything, johnny found it a nice idea.

• in truth, you drove him wild. he just split from his ex-wife, someone that wanted to place roots down and slow down in life. but you, you were spontaneous, fun loving, and an absolute firecracker. you set his heart going, and he couldn't help but harbor a little crush on you. he couldn't tell you that, not now anyway, with the tournament coming up he knew better than to put an extra weight on you.

• "earth to superstar—" you groan, waving your hand in his face and shaking him of his thoughts. he hadn't even noticed the two of you were already at your sleeping place, and how you're now half dressed in your undershirt and shorts. "just checked my stuff. i don't have anything clean or decent. guess i'll just be soggy for dinner."

• johnny can't seem to focus when you're in a damp tank top. "bummer."

• you frown. "this is when you offer one of yours."

• his eyes are distant. "my what?"

• "jesus, cage, what's gotten into you?" you playfully punch at his chest, which does little to affect his stance, and slide the door open to his own bed arrangement. bending over and shuffling through his obnoxiously nice luggage bags, you find one of his dress shirts. it's a fiery red with small flame patterns.

• "i didn't say you could go through my stuff," he warns you in a teasing tone, head hovering over your shoulder. "you might find something you won't like in there."

• "please," you puff as you flick the shirt of its wrinkles. "i've seen a few rose toys in my day." he chuckled, turning away for a moment.

• he gives you the decency to change by staring into the corner, shamefully dreaming of what you may look like without anything on. he shakes the thought violently as you let out a sigh of contention with the shirt.

• "i get that you're a big guy, but lord," you mutter, tugging and shifting the shirt on your body. "you're bigger than i thought."

• "that's what sh—" johnny turns around with a smirk that quickly drops to the floor. you were wiggling about trying to make the shirt look like your own, but johnny was just so pleased with how it sat on you as it was. his shoulders were broader, leaving the shirt to swim around your own and expose a good deal of your collarbone. his waist was small, giving you some grace by hugging your hips almost as if it was your own top. in that split moment, johnny ponders if the "you're so hot i got a nosebleed" trope was real, wiping the bottom of his nose.

• "suits you," he pulls himself together abruptly with his award-winning grin, patting your shoulder and careful to avoid making contact with your skin, as badly as he wanted to feel your warmth. "after all this, come by my place and i'll get your own wardrobe after my style, how's that?"

• you scoff with your hands on your hips, shifting your weight to one leg. johnny fights the physical stutter at your chest creeping out of the top. "mister playboy here giving out charities to us poor folk. you don't have to do that, really."

• his voice is deadly serious. "i want to."

• "you're an odd one," you point a finger, sitting onto his bed with crossed legs. you fall silent observing his thousand yard stare, how glassy his gaze seems to be when it falls on you. "why do you look at me like that?"

• "like what?" his mouth is dry, eyes fixated on yours.

• "like you wanna kiss me all the damn time," your answer is teasing, not entirely serious but you don't miss the twitch in his lip at your statement.

• "and if i do?" he's testing the waters, something about you in his clothes is making him more bold than he swore to be.

• his answer makes your heart flutter, not expecting a direct comment like that. it changed the air of the room, and you suddenly feel a little more suffocated and insecure under his analytical stare. "why don't you?"

• "because i'm worried i'll want more. you look great in my clothes, by the way."

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

cw: Yandere Themes, Possessive Behavior, Gaslighting / Allusions to Gaslighting, Violence / Violent Imagery, Non-Con / Attempted Non-Con, Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Themes Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Gender-Neutral Reader. Read at your own discretion! 18+ Only!

author's note: This is for the second half of anon's request! I had fun playing around with this one, too. I really enjoy writing for Overhaul! This was a prompt from "Yandere Prompts Flower Language" and can be found here . REQUESTS ARE OPEN — READ TAGS. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

PROMPT: Lily (Purity): "I shouldn’t taint you like this. Not when you’re so pure.”

word count: Approximately 1.4k.

You’re terrified.

The bed doesn’t offer an ounce of solace whenever you fall, whenever the back of your knees thump against its edge and it sends you catapulting throughout space and time. You feel heavy and light at the same time, lead in your mouth whenever you try to breathe, the smell of metal hearty and deafening. You bounce softly whenever the mattress catches you, but your body quakes so much that you feel like you keep going and going, and your hands are working a mile a minute to slam behind your frame to drag you back back back back back. Far away, you’re trying to leave this realm, leave the edge of the bed, trying to nestle into the bed frame, to find a way to meld into the wall and never return. But even if you could, there’s that voice whispering in the shell of your ear, reminding you that it’s futile, useless, and you’re clueless, and that it wouldn’t matter anyway because—

Kai steps closer. He stalks like a predator, staring down your frame, visage cloudy and unreadable. You’re never able to see what he’s thinking, the windows to his soul closed with midnight curtains, but there’s something flashing above his face like a halo that produces chills down your arms. He’s going to hurt you, there’s no way he isn’t, but you don’t know how, don’t want to know how. And whenever his knees start to sink on the bed so that he can begin to ascend the trek to your shuddering frame, everything around you begins to home in. Breathing becomes difficult, maybe it was never even a thing, and you’re finding that the world truly is a drain, water in a bowl hurling and vomiting, loose stones in a stomach. You get your fill, and your head hits the wall with a broad thud.

Being here is the worst thing you’ll ever experience, watching Kai draw closer and closer and closer is anything but the cherry on top. More is to come, and that’s what feels like spikes, chains whipping in the wind, the braying of a captured horse, everything knives down your flesh, flaying you alive. Your eyes are frantic whenever you glance around, whenever you try to think about yourself as not yourself, you try to figure out what would help you ground the fluttering nerves, what could let you slink away into the underbrush so that you don’t have to think about whenever Kai pauses in front of your frame and stretches a hand out. Pads of fingers are gossamer spider webs stringing through the trees, breaking in odd splinters and tickling your thigh.

“Why did you back away from me?”

He knows why. He’s tormenting you. He’s trying to find ways to gaslight your silly brain into thinking you’re the one that hurt him, that you’re the one doing something wrong, that you’re the one being a bad little child. A part of you begs to tell the truth, to watch that poised and clear expression melt off of his face into something disgusting and monstrous so that you can sneer and hate him more. You want to fight him, want to tear your head into two slices so that your teeth can shoot out of your mouth, elongate into blades so you can bite down into his temples and never let go. Thick saliva starts to puddle in your mouth whenever you think about how his warm blood would taste undulating across your tongue. Your nails clench into the bedsheets.

You’re too much of a fucking pussy to fight back though.

“I… don’t know.”

Kai’s pretty eyes narrow.

“Can’t trust you to do anything on your own then. Especially whenever you don’t even think about why you’re doing it.”

The hand on your thigh suddenly becomes an iron, instantly hot and searing your flesh, leaving a tattoo of his claim behind whenever it inches up to the juxtaposition of hip and thigh. Those teeth in your mouth grow, harder, and you feel it coming on, feel that you could really kill him if you wanted to. You could sink your fingers deep into his eyes before you pull them out like skewers, before you stick those squishy things into your mouth to taste their creamy middles. You could cough on him, could watch all of those hives appearing on his hand, his arm, his shoulder, his neck, his face grow in frequency, could throw darts onto them to pop him like a carnival balloon.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Frustration settles deep within your belly, along with the weighty sensation of acceptance. Kai seems pleased with your answer, maybe, because his fingers tap tap tap your hip before he’s on you. He’s a blur, you’re a falling leaf, and his hands are pressing down onto your collar bones so that he can shove you flat onto your back. The bed is hard now, no cushioning, and Kai’s hot, and you’re thawing, and his mouth hurts whenever he ensnares you. He’s never known how to kiss. It’s awkward, clunky. He sucks in both lips, strangely melds his mouth around them, and then he tries to find ways to flick at the flakes of pores and teeth with that juvenile tongue. He drools all over you, gross and sticky, and you can’t understand how he handles that filthy mess. He never turns his head the right way either, always too straight or too tilted, and his jaw doesn’t work correctly. It’s too mechanical, not a flow, and you just feel like you’re fulfilling an obligation whenever he kisses you.

Kai’s moaning into you, and then he rolls his hips in between the crux of your legs. He’s stony, and your eyes instantly wrench to the right, closed so tightly that it feels like you’ve pulled every single muscle in your fragile body. He’s writhing on top of you like a virgin, and there’s a part of you that feels victorious among the wreckage whenever you stew over how bad at sex he probably is, how clumsy and stupid he is, but it doesn’t make the tears spearing your eyes any less salty. They’re on fire, white flames that lick the dents in the fruits of your face, and so many of them escape, dropping onto the sheets, rivulets of watery paint, and the choked sob you breathe into Kai breaks his fantasies.

His eyes flit open with yours, only whiskers from yours, and he looks ugly and foul from this angle. It takes a beat for Kai to lean his body away from you so that he can scrutinize you. He stares and stares, and he keeps staring, and then he seems to tremble so sweetly and he almost makes a childish giggle. His shoulders pinch in together whenever he huskily whispers,

“I shouldn’t taint you like this. Not when you’re so pure.”

Nothing. Those are nothing words. But Kai stops, he keeps walking himself backwards, those honeycombs in his eyes are magnifying glasses into an insanity that makes you sick.

“Having sex with you whenever you’re crying wouldn’t do me any good. It wouldn’t make you stay perfect for me.”

Something is beginning to click like rockets in your head.

“If you’re crying and fighting me all of the time, I’m just going to get angry. And then I might accidentally hurt you.”

There are demons hissing into your ears, nasty nasty nasty thoughts that start to make your toes curl. It’s settling in your bones, your organs, and your eyes are widening with more and more and more fresh tears. They’re like thunderstorms down your face, and you’re soggy and gleaming with happiness. He’s so fucking ridiculous and dumb. You’re going to destroy him and manipulate the fuck out of him. You hate him so fucking much. He’s gullible in the strangest of ways and you’ve hooked your line in, and you’re going to exploit his ocean until there’s nothing left.

So you cry harder.

Kai releases more of those airy bubbles, not even chuckles, and his eyes wrinkle at the ends like stuffing paper.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’ll wait until I can’t take it, so don’t make me impatient. I want what we have to be special.”

The tears trickle into your tight mouth, juicy nectar, that stretching grin in your mind tingles, and nothing has ever tasted so sweet.

“Me too.”

[googleitlol]

Aaah, I just thought of some cute headcanons that I figured would fit Wukong and Dove, and Macaque and Lian too!💖 Hope you like them!

For Wukong and Dove (for both LMK AU and Black Myth Wukong, and PoM:

1. Wukong sometimes falls asleep right next to Dove and uses her lap as a pillow, and even purrs whenever he gets into a deep sleep on her. Dove didn’t tell him about the purring the first few times because she thought it was adorable and didn’t want him to embarrassed.

2. Wukong’s tail is very sensitive, so he easily gets excited and flustered whenever Dove touches it, which she uses to her advantage on multiple occasions such as if she wants him to listen or simply tease him.

For Macaque and Lian:

1. Sometimes when Macaque performs his shadow puppet shows from his lantern or simply using his powers for Lian, she would rest her head against his shoulder with a fond smile while watching his plays. On most occasions, she would even fall asleep on him while Macaque stares down at her with the softest smile.

2. Part of the reason Macaque wears his glamour to hide his scarred eye in the present day is because up until seeing Lian again, he had hoped to run into her reincarnation and used his glamour to maintain his original appearance so she would recognize him, and worried that she would be frightened by his eye after what Wukong did in the past.

Omg these are all so cute–

For Wukong and Dove:

This is adorable, I can imagine her sitting against a tree while he naps with his head on her lap. Maybe after they deal with Red Boy (in Black Myth Au and Main story) and find their friends, they stop for the day to set up camp earlier since everyone is tired af and they all need some time to calm down a bit. Wukong is patched up from the fight but SUPER tired still, and then Dove lets him rest in her lap. After spending the whole night thinking he might've died, having him sleep on her made her feel better– being able to feel him confirmed he was safe. Omg and when he starts purring??? Yeah, she won't say anything, but that's a card she's keeping in her pocket. Y'know, if he ever gets any ideas about trying to embarrass her. After that, it becomes somewhat of a regular thing to find Wukong napping on her, and sometimes, you'll find her doing the same

Ohohoho, I LOVE this one. Once Dove realizes how sensitive his tail is, she is using that to her full advantage. Maybe she has something important to say about how to defeat a demon but Wukong and the others are all talking over one another, so she gets his attention with his tail while he's mid-sentence. He'd 100% forget whatever the hell he was saying the moment she trails a finger down his tail. Eyes wide, absolutely GAGGED. Oh, she'd have so much fun teasing him like that. But if she does it too much, he'll have to get her back in some way…

For Macaque and Lian:

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! This is something I'll touch on in flashbacks, but there was a point in time where Lian was bedridden for a while. She was stuck in her bed for weeks, and while she'd get occasional visits from the Brotherhood, Macaque was with her everyday. Wukong would pop in for a few minutes each morning, but Macaque was the one who'd spend hours with her there. So I could totally seeing him doing this around that time, keeping her entertained with his shadow plays while she recovered. GAH THIS IS SO CUTE

Awwww, my heart! I can definitely see this, how he'd always want to be ready. I also think he'd hide it because he lost her before he and Wukong had their falling out, it was just days before Wukong got sealed under the mountain. So if she did recognize him, he wouldn't want her to ask about how he lost his eye and what happened after she, well… Macaque doesn't even know what happened to her. I mean, he knows what, he just doesn't know how. Needless to say, he would definitely use that reasoning to keep his glamour on because on the chance he ever got to reunite with Li, he'd want things to go back to exactly how they were. Before he lost his fight with Wukong, and before he lost her. He just wants them to happy, like they used to be.

[stargirlrchive]

late night talking ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: soon to be dad!jake sully x female!reader, talks of pregnancy and discomfort but its so minimal, literally pure fluff babes i need to carry his babies fr

word count: 718 - short and sweet

syulang (n) - flower

comments: i hate this title w/ a passion, i feel like the vibe does not match? but whtvr, we are pushing through! <3 anyways i was in a silly goofy mood when i wrote this, like yall are gonna see what i mean lol but this can be like a prequel to this other jake fic but can also just be a standalone, kk bye! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jake woke to the sound of your discomfort, feeling you move around in his arms as you tried to find a comfortable position. The task was proving to be impossible. You let out a long sigh, realizing there was no way you were going to be lulled to sleep again.

“What’s wrong, Syulang?”

Your eyes flew to your mates, unaware you had woken him up, “Nothing, he is just kicking so much tonight.”

Jake's hand instantly went out to sooth your belly, the bump growing beautifully everyday. He began to rub small shapes into your skin, hoping to calm his child down and ease your discomfort.

He whispered quietly to you, as if it was his biggest secret, “I wish we were Seahorses.”

Your mouth dropped in shock, that was not at all what you thought was going to leave your mates mouth. The confusion clear in your eyes, “What for?”

“Well I don’t know how true it is, but once on earth I read that male Seahorses carry the babies. I would do that for you.”

You wanted to laugh, it was fighting its way up your throat, but Jake was looking at you so seriously that you could not dare poke fun at him. His hands had made their way to your back, soothing the knots that had begun to form. “You would not last a day, JakeSully.”

You pressed a kiss to the widest part of his nose, “Besides, I should get used to it. I want more.”

“Is that so?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands trying to massage any area of exposed skin he could find, your body relaxing into his with each swipe of his hand. “Mhm, I want three more after. He needs siblings.”

Your hand rubbed gently along your own stomach, feeling a small thump from within. “Two girls and two boys.”

“Now wouldn't that be perfect.”

He was teasing you, trying not to smile as you shuffled closer to his body. Neither of you spoke for a while, your eyes were beginning to feel heavy, begging to sleep. “You keep referring to the baby as a boy?”

You nodded absentmindedly, practically melting under his fingers. “Because he is, I can feel it.”

Jake's nose scrunched up, “Has Eywa given you a sign?”

He was teasing you again, pure amusement dancing in his eyes as you looked up at him. His hand had fallen back to your stomach, fingers treading over you with a featherlight touch. “She has actually.” You huffed in his direction, noticing his eyes dilated at the new information. “Tell me Syulang.” He was pleading, softly tapping against your belly.

Jake had already adored you beyond belief, swore the sun rose when you smiled, but when he learned you were carrying his child, he practically worshiped the floor you walked on. “Please.”

You decided to end his suffering, laying your hand above his so they both rested on your stomach. “Well-this was only a few days ago, Ma’Jake, but I had gone to the Tree of Souls, I wanted to see my mother.”

Your shoulders caved in a little, pressing yourself impossibly closer to Jake, “There were so many ancestors trying to speak to me that day, but I could not make anything out. There were too many of them.”

Your face pinched together as you recalled the events, “Then, out of nowhere I heard something so clear, only one word. It was a name.”

You nervously played with the beads that fell on Jake’s braid, “What was it, Syulang?.”

“Neteyam.”

Jake blinked rapidly, ears twitching gently. It was perfect. “Do you like it?”

He nodded, unable to form words, suddenly struck with an overwhelming amount of adoration for you. He had to blink back the happy tears that threatened to leak from his eyes.

Silence fell between the both of you, Jake’s hands only stopped moving when he heard your breath even out. “Neteyam.”

He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue, he felt a soft thud from your stomach. Letting him know his son liked it too. His eyes instantly jumped to your face, wanting to make sure you had not woken up.

You remained peacefully sleeping, not even waking as Jake shifted to lay his arm under your head.

[charliedawn]

Hi hi! I don't know if you've already done a request similar to this one buuuut.. how would the slashers (+ Hannibal Jr and his dad, Hannibal. MAYBE if you can) react to the nurse getting hit with like.. an intense aphrodisiac?

I'm curious;w; and I love your writing so much<3

Pennywise would immediately recognise the scent of aphrodisiac and lock himself up—twice.

He isn’t staying when you’re all weird and clinging to him like a plushie.

Pennywise can like you, but he still doesn’t like being touched and would simply disappear until the effects of the aphrodisiac wear off.

Freddy…

Freddy has no self-control. The moment he knows you are under the effects of an aphrodisiac, he’d take his shot.

So, for your safety, the medical staff has put traps into place all around your room…

Freddy *tries to get in and gets hit with a giant hammer* : "SHIT—!"

Michael would ask to be put on lockdown. He cannot be trusted around you. The moment he cares for someone, he usually has the urge to kill them so…Yup.

Better safe than sorry.

He’d still be happy to see you once or twice. But…that’s about it.

People have tried to restrain Penny…But by the time they understood…It was too late. Penny had gotten a whiff of the aphrodisiac and got into *mating mode*.

Penny *giggles and wraps his arms around you* : "Heya. Y/N wants to play, right ? Wants to play with Penny ?"

"How…delightful. Nice to see you reacting so…well to my little gift. My little lamb."

…Hannibal Sr. was the one to spike your drink with aphrodisiac. He wanted to see your reaction. He wasn’t disappointed…

He was amused at first…before he had no choice but to put you to sleep because of how intense it was becoming.

Hannibal Jr. *kisses your forehead after he administrated you with enough sedatives to kill a horse* : "Sleep well, my darling. We shall talk when you wake up."

The moment Bo sees an opportunity…

It’s over.

You gotta knock him out or kill him to keep his hands off you.

Bo *pats your head* : "…You and I are gonna have LOTS of fun, darls."

Brahms…Brahms would be cautious at first. He would understand that this isn’t the normal you and would be happy with just staying away at first.

But, tentation is hard and he would eventually give in and hug you and kiss you and tell you he loves you and give you affection and love you want.

Yeah. Poor boy is weak.

Jason would tie you up to a tree.

He is a good boy.

He wouldn’t give in to the sin of the flesh and just wait until you are back to normal before hugging you and tell you that he is sorry.

Norman *tries to calm you down* : "Y-Y/N. Let’s…Let’s talk about this. Please, sweetheart."

You *growl*

Norman *starts sweating and runs away*

Norman was raised to be the perfect gentleman. He would never take advantage of you because of some aphrodisiac. So, he would run and hide until you are back to normal.

[loose-angel]

Big Brother | Neteyam

pairing: Brother!Neteyam x sister!reader, Brother!Lo'ak x sister!reader summary: A day in the life of older brother Neteyam Sully w/c: 613 notes: i recently hit 100 followers while i wrote this little drabble!! thank u all so much >.< i hope u enjoy this xD im on a streak w the sibling fics and drabbles its just so much fun to write!!

It was not uncommon that you and Lo’ak would get into arguments, almost always they are about petty things, who was the fastest, who’s better at hunting, who makes the better meal, etc. So it wasn’t rare that the Sully family would walk in on your childish arguments, though unfortunately, it was Neteyam who had the luck to run into the both of you.

“Lo’ak just admit you’re a pussy bitch and this can be over.” You rolled your eyes.

“No way in hell! I told you, we need a rematch and it’ll be fair,” Loak grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, turning away from you.

Neteyam sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to play ‘most responsible person in the world’ right now, but duty calls.

The eldest Sully approaches the both of you, “Hey, hey, what’s all this fighting about?”

“This skxawng and I did a race of whoever got the first kill and I won but Lo’ak says it ‘cuz he heard a thanator and had to hide for the first few minutes.” You whined to your older brother, earning an appalled gasp from his brother. 

“Hey! You can’t go sucking up to him just ‘cause you’re his ‘little princess’!” Lo’ak mocked in a high pitch tone, his hands flying around wildly.

“Listen, listen, I’m not taking anyones’ side, both of you are skxawngs.” Neteyam exhaled, crossing his arms over his chest, “Now, no more fighting, or I’m telling mom and dad.” The eldest says, mostly directed towards his brother. 

“Ya, you skxawng, scurry off.” You scoffed, sticking your tongue out at your brother, playfully poking at his torso.

Lo’ak hissed at you, brows furrowing.

“Princess, you’re provoking him,” Neteyam shook his head. Yet you paid no mind, continuing with your teasing. 

You poked Lo’ak once more before he hissed and pounced at you. The two of you begin fighting, with Lo’ak pulling at your braids and you pulling on his ear. Grunts and whines bounce against the leaves of the hometree, the pair of you rolling around and knocking into the bark of the tree. 

“Ow! Bro she has my ears! She has my ears! Get her off!”

“Let go of my fucking hair!”

Neteyam sighs once again, he can never have just one peaceful day, can he? He struts over to the two of you. At this point you’re now straddling Lo’ak, pulling on his hair as he throws meek punches to your torso. 

Neteyam picks you up without a second thought, “No more fighting, please.” you squirm in your brother’s hold but ultimately cannot fight against it. The eldest Sully reaches out a hand and helps Lo’ak up.

At just the right timing, Kiri walks in. She pauses to observe the scene, before shrugging and going on about her business. 

“My ears really hurt,” Lo’ak muttered under his breath, a stupid pout forming on his lips. 

“Okay, go ask Kiri for help,” Neteyam nods his head in his sister’s direction. Lo’ak begrudgingly struts over to where Kiri is. 

You remain beside Neteyam, eyes wandering to the ground, which was suddenly so interesting. 

“Now you, I don’t know why you continue to cause trouble baby,” Neteyam points, looking down at you with disappointment. You shift from foot to foot. Luckily enough, his soft side for you remains, the slip of a pet name indicating he’s not entirely mad at you.

Yet you chuckle nervously, “I won’t anymore, promise.”

Neteyam rolls his eyes at your promise. As if you hadn’t said the same thing a few days ago. Though he takes a look at your disheveled state, and decides to let it pass.

“Come, I’ll fix your braids.”

[little-cereal-draws]

Ok so I think I figured out why the panic attack scene is so great (or at least in my opinion)

It’s told from an outside perspective.

Panic attacks are horrible. You feel like the worlds crashing down and you can’t breathe and you get tunnel vision and you’re dying and it’s the end of the world. But to outsiders, I mean they look bad, but it’s mostly just shaking and gasping and stuff. Not nearly as catastrophic as they feel.

Now, I can’t remember a ton of times a character in a tv show/movie has had a panic attack (that wasn’t used as comedic purposes) but the ones I can remember, mostly focused on the person having it. The warped sounds, tunnel vision, etc. We were experiencing it through their eyes. And this approach has its appeals; it shows the severity panic attacks can have, makes the audience more sympathetic to the character, and lets the creative team have a bit of fun w how they draw it. And puss in boots does that very briefly when Perrito is asking him what’s wrong but for the most part, it’s not told from puss’s pov.

It shows what panic attacks actually look like instead of how they feel and shows how scary they can be even wo all the artistic liberties. It’s still a terrifying scene, listening to him hyperventilate on the floor surrounded by dead trees but it just tells the audience, “this is what panic attacks are like.” No flashing colors or fisheye lenses, just not being able to breathe on the floor. And in my own experience, that’s a lot more accurate too than all the artistic liberties other shows take.

And the outside perspective also allows a whole new set of feelings to be explored. As an audience, we already know why puss is freaking out so staying w puss would just reenforce smth the audience already knows. Instead, we get to see Perrito worry about his friend and start panicking himself when he’s not responding to him. We get to see him figure out how to help and be relieved when it works. And that makes the forehead touch/talk afterwards that much better. We know the extent Perritos love for his friends in a tangible way, not just him saying it, and it’s the first time puss accepts help from someone else.

Anyway, it’s just a fantastic scene and I wish I was in the room when they scripted it

[dandyslibrary]

this is for anon who requested WINX Reader <33

WINX READER

Vil, Rook — Romantic — Yandere — TWST

Will be doing this HC style! You didn’t specify if you wanted Yandere TWST or not, — So I’ll be doing Yandere. If this wasn’t what you wanted then I’m so sorry! just tell me and I’ll redo it! This was fun to figure out and I’ll probably do another one with Octavianelle w Sirenix Reader

TW: a random blonde bobcut French hunter scaryy (cough cough rook), probably OOC, Poison,

Vil (Musa Reader)

; At first he thought you were talentless, you pretty sure but it looked like you couldn’t do anything else. This was way before he even knew you were a fairy by the way..

; Nothing happened much until one day he caught you singing when you thought you were alone.

; Your voice was amazing! You sounded amazing.

; You had potential, and he was going to bring the best out of you. ; Pushed you into training with Epel, but had more time with you.. for vocal lessons.. well it’s not like you needed them.

; During his Overblot he witnessed you transform, he was hypnotized and thought that he was probably hallucinating or something.. When he was defeated and realized that you were actually a fairy- like he wasn’t hallucinating, he wanted to lock you up in a cage where only he could see you.

; He finds you truly amazing, in fact— he wants to look at you everyday.

; You just seem so perfect, you reached your potential.

; Oh but to say he was pissed when he found out you had a boyfriend..

; But his mood goes up just a tad bit when he finds out about you and your boyfriend struggles.

; He feels bad, honestly, how could you let someone so horrible treat you like trash?

; Oh well, he can swoop in and be the hero he always wanted to be. ; He comforts you and takes care of you lots. He also found out that your mother died.. and how you lived in the past.. so he feels even more bad and has this feeling to help you.

; He wanted to lock you away, but he knew your voice would be a problem..

; He invites you for tea one day, and suddenly you couldn’t speak. It was like something was preventing you from speaking. Vil tries to comfort you and says he’s gonna find a cure

; He isn’t, he’s just going to keep you safe in his dorm. Where nobody but him can enter. So that way you would never know the feeling of hurt ever again.

; He likes dressing you in pretty clothing that matches his outfits.

Rook (Musa Reader)

; Oh how magnifique! He’s allured right away from the moment you met.

; Sooner or later he finds out you have an amazing voice, he finds out by stalkin- I mean, admiring you from afar!

; Oh once again you find multiple ways to surprise him! He finds your voice spectacular, so much that he doesn’t want to share you with Vil. He does feel a bit bad for that—

; Continues to admire you from the bushes, or behind trees- or by your window- it depends!

; Has an album dedicated to you. Pictures of you asleep, in the shower, In class, everywhere. Has a spot of drawings and pictures of you in his room.

; Of course he finds out about your boyfriend, would be lying if I didn’t say he felt a bit jealous.

; But oh! He can’t interfere with true love..!

; Actually he can now, your boyfriend River is an asshole. Don’t worry if he goes missing for a couple of days, he just went.. hunting.

; He comforts you when you got the news that your boyfriend broke up with you, it’s fine. It’s gonna be alright!

; Now he keeps you in a cabin in the woods far away from society.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

third request done, will post the rest tomorrow! Thanks for reading all the way. Sorry if rooks part was shorter than Vil’s

[kosije]

hi there! if it is possible could you do a piece where the reader (fem) and iwa/akaashi go to a park to walk the reader's dog, where two kids approach the reader while they are sitting on a bench and ask her to play with them. iwa/akaashi has been planning to propose to the reader for a while and on the way back he asks them their opinion on children and the reader replies with something that convinces them that they are the one.

thank you in advance!

ㅤ( ㅤ҉ 🌳 ) puppy love

a/n ★ ׂ first post of 2024! thank you so much anon :) this was fun to write. i tried to see who i wanted to write for more, but i couldn’t! so today i present you a two course meal (^з^) scroll down to read akaashi’s part, but yk i had to put my fav first _(:3 」∠)_

— main masterlist | haikyuu masterlist

c/w ★ ׂ akaashi x fem!reader / iwaizumi x fem,reader, reader has a dog, reader is a physical therapist, reader likes kids, mentions of marriage/proposal, fluff, akaashi’s part does have a make out session (but i did try to make it tasteful)

🌱 choose your character!

player 1 — iwaizumi

you're painted in a golden glow. a star walking beside him as you talk about everything that had happened at work. today was a good day, you say. your patient has had a breakthrough and can now walk without support. her muscle movement is almost fluid and her mood has brightened up tremendously ever since.

your dog seems just as happy as you are. it practically prancing between you and Iwaizumi.

"how was work today? you got off pretty early," you coo, nudging him with your shoulder.

"oh, yeah—" he coughs, suddenly interested in the strap of the bag full of your snacks and dog stuff. "yeah, one of my clients was a no-show so i just closed my availability after i finished."

his stomach does flips, he hates lying. he hates keeping secrets from you, but he can't tell you he's been out looking for engagement rings all day. he hasn't even stepped foot in his gym; he has been planning with his clients to skip today all month.

in reality, while you have been at the hospital, he has been around every jeweler in the area, trying to find the perfect ring for you. he knows what you like. he knows your ring size, your favorite stone, and your favorite metal.

but none of them seemed like the one.

he had come across this hole-in-the-wall shop on his way back. not the cleanest, but not sketchy, but he had no time to look. he had just bookmarked it and drove home.

"that's nice. i'm happy we could do this, we rarely go out on weekdays."

"yeah? been missing me hunny?" he pouts, eyes closed, making mwah noises to you.

you scoff, but mush his face between your hands and plant a big kiss on his lips and he can taste fruit on your lips.

"so so sososososososo much, haji." and you kiss him again on the cheek, then the other, then one last peck on his lips, and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

you two walk for a little longer this time with his thump under the waistband of your pants until you reach the benches by the climbing frame.

"wanna rest up?"

you nod to him and plop down together, sighing. you tie the leash to the bench arm, and iwa digs through the bag for the dog bowl and water.

you two cuddle up together. your hands play with the fabric of his shorts, and his arm is stroking your side as you watch children play, people work out with their dogs, and birds fly from tree to tree.

it's peaceful. and it's natural. and he's nervous.

a couple of laughs break him out of his trance, and when he's focused again he sees two kids, a boy and a girl, nervously asking you to play with them.

"we wanna play hide and go seek, but we both wanna hide. and- and- and- my grandma said that we should ask someone to seek for us s-so we don't argue," the girl says, twisting her foot into the dirt as her brother silently plays with your dog.

"yeah?" you look to iwaizumi, and he nods, not in any objection. "where should i count?

ㅤ ㅤ҉ 🌳

you play with the kids for about fifteen minutes. running around — tag, hide and go seek, fetch with your dog, and racing with them. he watches you from the bench, laughing with the kids, and something of a flame ignites within him. his heart squeezes and his face warms more and more just at the sight of you. you're so carefree and happy. the kids are giggling and smiling ear to ear as you pretend to run as fast as you can, only to get tagged back and go back to chasing them. your dog is sitting between his legs as he adds ice cubes to his bowl for him to chew on, and he thinks he's never been happier.

it feels as natural as breathing, seeing you with the kids, and he doesn't even try to stop himself or the drumming of butterflies in his chest, daydreaming of you two at the park with kids of your own. you running around with them and playing. him setting the table for you all. him reading them bedtime stories as you kiss their foreheads and tuck them in, leading him back to your guy's room, hand in hand, with a pretty rock on your ring finger.

he watches as the kids light up at the sight of the older woman walking toward you and smiling brightly. it's no trouble, i had fun, he hears you say. she thanks you again and the kids wave bye to you and him before you walk back to the bench. your face is a little flushed and your baby hairs are sticking to your forehead messily.

"tired?"

"not..really..." you huff with your hands on your hips and head facing the sky.

"i can see why their grandma needed a break. It took you 15 minutes to get sweaty," he laughs, a large hand rubbing your hip.

"good thing when that happens with ours, i'll have you with me," you laugh, plopping down on the bench next to him. he's silent for a little while, can tell that you've noticed it when you turn your head to him.

"baby, you're all flushed." you touch his face to examine it, and he grabs it, bringing your palm to his lip.

"it is a good thing that we'll have each other, isn't it," he mumbles, and there's a boyish smile glued to his face.

you give him a funny look and kiss him softly, and he remembers to check that hole-in-the-wall spot tomorrow

"2 kids max though."

"there are only two of us," he agrees.

player 2 — akaashi

he likes how you look when it's cold. likes how you look bundled up and cozy, how you always rub up against his side. you're always so warm, it feels too good, you always say. how could he ever complain though? he may not say much, but he loves it when you're holding him, touching him somewhere innocuous, like you have to have some sort of physical connection with him at all times. call him clingy, but he'll just tell you he's in love.

your dog seems just as calm as you are, walking close between you and Akaashi.

"how was it with your client today?" you ask, playing with the hem of his cuff.

"unremarkable, feels as if it never even happened," he says and mentally slaps himself for being so literal. you're none the wiser to his lie. or the fact he's been looking for engagement rings all day. how many flower shops he's passed looking for your favorites. how many venues he's bookmarked. so instead, he's asking you how it went with your patient.

"pretty good," you say, smiling into your scarf. it belongs to him, but he the way it looks on you more. "making some real breakthroughs. she'll be running in no time."

"that's good, 'm proud of you both. this means you'll be spending more time at home?"

"just a little. she asks if we do more intensive workouts now—push her to her limits. feels like the home stretch, though."

"can't wait till the discharge, we should celebrate over dinner."

"my favorite?"

he laughs at the way your puppy dog eyes peer up at him. "of course."

and you do a little happy dance, bend down to tell your dog the great, and he's happy. his heart is hung heavy in his chest for you, but it feels as light as a cloud. and despite the sting in his cheeks, he can't stop smiling.

you guys reach a bench by a pond and sit together. you let your dog play in the grass in front of you two as he pulls a book from his satchel and wipes his glasses before putting them back on his face.

"will you read to me?"

and of course, he says yes, because it makes him so happy to entertain you. you compliment his voice, tell him it makes you calm whenever he speaks, tell him it makes reading feel more intimate, hypnotizing almost. god, if only you knew half the things you do to him.

"excuse me," he stops for a second, and you both turn to see a little boy and girl standing in front of you.

he tells them hello, and the boy asks him to read to them too.

"our- we like books a lot. and we can be very quiet," he whispers that last part. "my grandma says it's okay, she's right- right there." he follows the kid's finger to an older woman, quietly sitting by another bench close by, glancing between the kids and the two of you.

he points to himself, and the two kids with a tilt of his head and she nods, hands settling into her lap.

"can i pet your dog?" the girl asks, and you gush.

"of course, sweetheart!"

"can i sit next to you?" the boy asks him, and he nods, holding the book out away from his body, picking the boy with his free hand and letting him settle against the side of his body and reads.

ㅤ ㅤ҉ 🌳

he gets about a chapter deep before the kids fall asleep. the little girl had been settled in your arms just a moment after the boy had asked, as he read.

"your voice is like a lullaby," you muse, nudging his foot with your own.

"or maybe this book is just that boring."

"note even," you whisper through a smile. "you're just a natural."

the kids stir awake moments later, now with their grandma by their sides. she thanks the two of you, tells you how time is catching up with her and she can't do as much for them as she used to.

"it's no problem, ma'am. i can tell that you do so much already."

she thanks you again, cupping your hands as the two kids position themselves next to her, grabbing onto her skirt.

"and might i add, it is so nice seeing a couple so good with kids. tell me, do you have some of your own?"

"no," you laugh, placing your head on his shoulder. "not yet."

and when you wink at the woman, she laughs, putting her fingers up to her lips. "not for long either, i can tell."

and you both giggle at one another as he sits there flushed. not yet. it repeats in his head even as he trails you back to your car. his face is burning. he's not so immature as to be flustered by the thought have having a child with you. but he can't stop the feeling he gets when you say things like that.

not yet.

"earth to keji?"

he jumps slightly, hand sweeping up to cover his mouth.

you look worried. your lips are in a pretty pout and your hand is on his chest. "what's wrong?"

he says nothing, doesn't dare to use his words, and so he kisses you. and it's somewhat feverish and terribly lovesick. his hands are warm on your face, and his glasses are fogging up, but he doesn't care. he is fighting for air in between your moans and he'd be perfectly content with passing out as long as your lips are on his. as long as you are his.

eventually, you guys have to pull back. your lips are plumper and he's sure his area deep shade of pink.

and keji doesn't care about the venue, or date, or anything else, because as long as he can tell you "i do," he knows he'll be the luckiest man on earth.

"i have a different idea as a celebration for when your time with your patient has concluded," he says.

you pout. "so no dinner?" so damn cute.

he kisses your lips one last time before starting the car.

"you'll still get that dinner, hun."

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[sprunkimortality]

What do every Sprunki think of Gray?

Oren: "He's chill, bro. He's got good taste in music." Raddy: "Eh. He keeps out of my space and I keep out of his." Clukr: "According to my observations, Gray is a rather stoic individual. His lack of physical expression betrays his ability to feel emotions, and he can be quite hard to read at times. I can only make guesses as to how he feels based on context clues." Fun Bot: "Oh, Gray! He requests interesting songs from his favorite bands! It's always a new experience when he comes up to ask me to play something!" Vineria: "We're at similar wavelengths. Our auras blend well."

Brud: "Gray? Me like Gray! Gray is friend!" Garnold: "Gotta say, the kid's got interesting artistic interpretations of robotics. I didn't even know what divine machinery was until I heard him go through a whole rant about it! He's a cool one, I'll tell you that." OWAKCX: "G- Gray…oh, well, he- …h-he doesn't really…um…w- we don't…talk that much, you know? Hoohoo-! S- So, I, I- I don't know much about him, eh…e-except the fact that h- he wears the same shirt every day, hoho…" Sky: "Gray is so cool! He's got edgy makeup, edgy clothes, edgy music, everything's edgy! I want to be cool like him!"

Mr. Sun: "Ah, our very own Neutral Sprunki! There's a charm to his poker face that only he can pull off!" Durple: "Ahaha! You speak of my deadpanned companion? I've known him since we were Sprunklings! We were both losers without friends or anyone to chitter with at lunch, you see. Except I, in my ever-present radiance, was spared by the hells of torment he had to go through during those highschool years! That's not to say I condone it, no no no. I am HIGHLY against treating our very own emo boy with such exclusionism!" Mr. Tree: "I have been with him for every rest he takes every day in the afternoon. He brings peace to this bright and colorful town." Simon: "Well gee, Gray's one of my greatest friends! He's responsible and he always knows what to do in even the scariest situations! Don't tell him this, but…he's like a big brother to me! Yeah, we're the same age and unrelated but I don't care! He's big bro Gray to me!" Tunner: "Th' lad's in his own lil' world sometimes. He's a good kid. Never gets into any sorta trouble. Don't got a clue about the things he rambles on about sometimes, but I ain't gon' stop 'im whenever he does that. It's his passion."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He may not look like it, but he knows how to have fun in his own way! He visits me a lot! Though, he usually doesn't use my search engine or anything, like everyone else would. He just likes to come by and have conversations with me. It's nice!" Wenda: "So, like, big backstory dump, but…I actually hated Gray's guts. I dunno why. I was an evil kid! Like, so evil. I shoved him in the hallway and called him dumb and fat and whatever. Real talk, I was so mean to him. So like, him forigivng me was like, SUPER surprising. Like, what do you mean you forgive me?? Sure I regretted it and I apologized to his face but I didn't think he'd actually be, like, cool with me now! Anywayy. We're buddies now. We hang out and all that, soooo yeah. Happy ending! I hope." Pinki: "Gray is such a sweetheart! He helps me out at the bakery sometimes, even though he doesn't like having to deal with cooking oil…I really appreciate it whenever he comes by to help!" Jevin: "Within that anti-expression he wears, Gray is a Sprunki with passions to share."

Black: "He's not too bad, I suppose." Saves: "Sorry, who is…? Ah, yes! The horned one with the dirty shirt…ah, I remember now. Gray…he's so kind and generous. He is the same one who visits me every weekend, isn't he? Yes…he helps around the house. We tell stories to each other. He's precious." Ciqu: "He abides. I have no strong opinion of him." Sprinkles: "Heehee! Gray is fun! He takes care of me and Sky sometimes! He's like a big brother, but he doesn't have any little siblings…which is a bit sad, because he's fun as a brother!" Calvin: "Gray is super cool. And also fun to play pranks on! He doesn't get mad, so it's a little funny!" (edit 12/8/24: X FORGOT CIQU...XM SO SORRY MR POLICEMAN....)