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jojikawa · 1 year ago

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Beauty and the Beast

An event where you are a woman in the 50s trying to turn the head of your neighbor, Francis Mosses when you are stalked and pursued by his evil counterpart.

Art by ilameys

Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

Word Count: 5.7k

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, SMUT(CNC, mentions of a "rape kit"), and monster cock.

I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Life was somewhat boring for you as a woman in the 50s. Despite being sought after by a lot of the men in your apartment complex, you had your heart set on one man. You only got to see him once a day. Francis Mosses. When he would deliver milk to your door in the morning. No matter how cute or cherry you were, it seemed like his mind was set on other things. The man always looked tired but you thought he was handsome no matter what. Maybe even more handsome…it was just something about hot men being tired that made them so much hotter.

You had hoped that eventually, he’d notice you and finally take you on a date!

But that hope soon faded when you read the newspapers. They talked about how doppelgängers are becoming a lot more frequent and the D.D.D. would be installing new units everywhere to ensure that no evil counterparts are making their way into the homes of others and killing people. You were able to tell if this made you feel safer or a lot more scared. What if someone made a mistake…?

Well, you didn’t have a chance to feel anything really, as the D.D.D. was extremely secretive about this kind of threat. After some time, it became normalized and it soon left your mind. The Doorman job seemed to be pretty effective as you had never seen any monsters before and were very much alive. It was rumored that the creatures would murder and eat any person they encountered if they succeeded in passing as humans. This is another reason you had your heart set on Francis. You felt as though he could protect you at a time like this. Maybe it was naive of you but after all, you were just a girl.

“Good Morning.”

Upon hearing the small knock at your door, you went to greet him. Francis stood tall, rather confused about you coming to get your bottled milk so quickly.

“Oh, good morning…” He replied flatly, gripping the strap of his milk bag. You thought that maybe he had a mutual crush on you and was too shy to act on it. So, you could take that step for him.

“How are you this morning? I hope that life is agreeing with you today.” You stepped outside of your apartment door with your glass of milk in hand. Francis shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He then yawned before saying “What’s wrong? Are you looking for another?”

You blinked. “Huh?” Your eyes then darted down to your hands. “O-Oh…sure.” You smiled attractively, causing him to break eye contact with you. He reached into his milk carrier and revealed and took out another. “You’re only allowed to get one every day but you can have mine.” He walked up to you and placed the bottle into your free hand.

“Th-Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

After he disappeared around the corner, you were filled with joy! That interaction was such a good sign. He gave you his milk bottle. You had to make him something for dinner tonight as a gift!

Thunk!

You almost jumped at the sound of glass falling on the carpet at the far end of the hallway behind you. It looked like an empty milk bottle if you squinted hard enough. There was a shadow as well. It made you feel uneasy and quickly made you retreat into your home.

You wanted to try seeing if you could have more time with Francis. There was a job opening for the D.D.D. Doorman of your building and you instantly took it. Being able to meet with Francis when he wasn’t busy might have your conversations with him take a turn for the better. You really appreciated his selfless gesture. So, seeing him at least twice a day would make your life so much brighter. Francis was the complete package. Tall, handsome, quiet, and most of all, soft-spoken. You’d be a good wife to him.

On the first day of the job, you didn’t receive any proper training. You were given an informational video and a set of instructions that you scrambled to memorize as a long line of your neighbors awaited their inspection outside. The job was easy at first and you did it well. It was a chore but those are easy. You let in the right people and you called the D.D.D. when you found a doppelganger like you were instructed to. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, Francis didn’t pay you any mind. You gave him a soft smile through the glass before asking him about his day.

“I hope work is treating you well.” You pitched your voice up to sound cuter. Your graceful hands moved swiftly as you sifted through the many layers of documents, trying to organize them before your next neighbor. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered, blinking rather slowly. Your smile widened. “Any days off soon? I’d like to see you outside of your uniform.” You winked at him and he just shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well, maybe, sometime after your hard work, you tell me a day you’d think you would be free?”

You waited with anticipation for his response. He seemed rather confused and it was rather adorable. Then he said “I don’t really know. I think I’m busy but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Your smile faltered just a little but you were good at faking emotions. “Oh, no worries.” You waved him off in a playful manner before pressing the button to allow him inside. Your shift ended and you thought that you should probably get to making that dinner for him as a ‘thank you’ for the free milk. As you began to clean up, the pressure of your job began to set in. This wasn’t something that you could just quit if Francis were to reject you. Ignoring all the unexplainable noises, the dark figures, and the constant feeling of being watched, it would be very awkward seeing him every day after that.

It was a new day. Francis came to check into the building and you let him go without chatting with him because you didn’t want to seem like a bother. But…then you saw him again.

“Francis?” You cutely tilted your head. The way he looked at you was much different than usual. The Francis you knew could barely make meaningful eye contact with you but right now he had no problem burning holes into your skull with his eyes. Not only that but he was visibly bigger as well. Taller and more masculine. His arms were big and veiny. This was NOT Francis Mosses.

“I-ID…?” You gave a nervous half-smile as you tried to hide your stutter. The humanoid creature gawked, a subtle sense of happiness washing over its face the longer it stayed there. “Don’t have it on me.” It replied plainly. You picked up the clipboard before exing out the box that was labeled “ID.”

“W-Well, you seem to look a lot like someone who’s already checked in. Please, give me a moment to confirm.” You flashed it a close-eyed smile. Upon seeing it, the fake Francis moved closer to the window, fogging it up with its mouth breathing.

You pressed the big red button to close the shutter before dialing the number to the D.D.D.

The representative told you someone would be over right away to dispose of the doppelgänger. It only took about a minute before they’d arrive. Normally, the shutter would open on its own after being reset by the D.D.D. member but for some reason, it didn’t You figured that now would be a good time to open it to help the last neighbors but when you did, you were not met with the hazmat suit you were so familiar with.

In front of you was the same fake Francis from before, now covered in some blood. His expression was one of annoyance and the veins in his arms were pulsating as if he were trying to contain some kind of anger.

“E-Excuse me, but you need to—!”

“Let me in.”

Your heart dropped. It talked! And it sounded just like Francis too.

You shook your head. “N-No! I’m not letting a monster in.” You reached for the number to re-dial the number again.

“But I think you look so pretty today. You wore that just for me, huh? I’d love to t-tear it off of you.” The creature’s neck involuntarily cracked its neck, twisting it in a demonic way. You screamed at the sight, pressing the button once more to close the shutters so that you wouldn’t have to see it. As they went down, the doppelgänger tried to stop it by putting his hand under it. It got caught in the track, causing it to get stuck on the track and it was open halfway.

“Come on, Darling, I know you’re not about to call those bastards again. I don’t want to have to hurt anyone else.” The large man-creature crouched down. You could see his fanged canine teeth poking out of his mouth. You backed away from the window with the telephone in hand.

3312…

You listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before the receptionist answered.

“Hello?”

“P-Please send help!” You cried over the phone. Tears began to spill out of your eyes upon hearing the squeal of metal as the predator stretched and bent it to his will. The glass was the only thing left that could stop him from entering.

You saw how abnormally long his tongue was when it glided over his lips. “I just want to taste you…”

The receptionist dispatched another group of workers to help dispose of the doppelgänger. They arrived almost instantly. It was only then that the fake Francis moved away from the window. You sighed in relief, trying to calm yourself down from the events that transpired. You ran over to the tempered glass. The mental door looked like sheet paper.

You saw no trace of the Hazmat people but you also didn’t see the fake Francis anymore. You quickly gathered your things and rushed to leave. You opened the door to let yourself out. You planned to run to your room and lock the door but as soon as you had left the room, you bumped into a stiff, toned chest. The figure grabbed you by your neck and forced you to look at them. The gloved hand was covered in blood and it stained your skin and the collar of your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?”

His grip around your throat was so tight that you weren’t able to form words. It was completely covered in blood and in its other hand was a knife dripping with blood as well. It kept the violence to one side of the room so that you weren’t able to see anything unless you completely left the screening room.

The light clank of the knife hitting the ground could be heard and its newly free hand grabbed your waist. The doppelgänger hugged you to its masculine chest. Its head rested itself on top of yours before it planted its nose in the crown of your head before inhaling your scent deeply. The blaring sound of the alarm continued to go off and it was deafening.

Your nose was overloaded with the scent of fresh blood. The pure shock didn’t let you resist his touch. His grip loosened and you dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor, staining it in with the red substance

“P-Please.”

You felt its large hand around the back of your neck and you feared that it would snap it and kill you any second. You held your breath as you felt it set the other hand on your waist as well, rubbing it gingerly.

It felt like the doppelgänger was sizing you up to see if you’d be a good enough meal for it.

“He-ey, beautiful. It's… okay…”

The doppelgänger’s speech was somewhat disconnected but it was fluid for the most part. At first, it was clear he was a fake but the more he kept talking, the more it sounded like the real thing…like it was learning in real time.

Your heart rate accelerated when you felt its hand travel ever so slowly from your waist to the collar of your dress. The inhuman smile on its face widened and it suddenly ripped the cloth that covered your torso. You gasped, instinctively covering your now exposed bra.

You wiggled out of its grip and used the opportunity to run. You kicked off your pumps and ran barefoot to your apartment. All you could do was hope that more of the D.D.D. would come and solve the issue before anyone else could get hurt. The emergency alarm was still going off so the authorities should be there soon.

When you arrived at your door, you tried to scramble to look for your keys so that you could get inside but…

…you remembered that you dropped them along with the rest of your possessions.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. The large shadow engulfed your smaller form.

“Allow me.” The stranger said, calmly. Their large fist went through the door handle, shattering the lock and making it completely useless. You were too shocked to try running again. It found you.

The doppelganger shoved you against the door, swinging it open and causing you to fall forward inside of your home. You hit the floor with a soft but swift thud. “I see the way you look at him.” Its voice was laced with venom—anger but left more to be desired. It was playing with you awfully long for a creature that was trying to kill you.

“But you’d never look at me that way…”

The Fake Francis entered the apartment making sure to secure the door behind it so that you couldn’t run anymore. You cried and whimpered as it took its sweet time pushing your bookcase in front of the door so no one would intervene with what was supposed to happen next.

“I-I don’t know what you’re—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as it smashed its lips into yours. Its tongue was like that of a serpent, slipping its way into your mouth. You tried to push it away but any attempts just resulted in your lips connecting once more. It was too strong.

You were terrified but it passed so much for the real Francis.

“Tell me you don’t like it ‘n I’ll stop.” It whispered into your mouth before it French kissed you once more. You kissed it back, unable to resist his appearance any longer. When it pulled away, a string of saliva connected between both of your mouths. It’s warm breath hits the surface of your face, eyes full of lust and horror.

It’s soft lips attached themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until your skin slowly began turning red. “Mmm.” It hummed deeply, traveling lower and lower until it reached the cavern between your breasts. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?” It placed kisses in the valley of your chest, waiting for a reply. You were unable to form words at this point. It wanted to ravage you and steal your innocence. It took your idleness as consent, continuing on with satisfying itself and by extension, satisfying you.

It took the delicate hand you had been using to drive a wedge between the both of you. You thought that at this point it was going to break your arm! You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to endure the pain but…it didn’t. You felt the heated bulge beneath it’s bloodied white trousers. It throbbed.

That’s when it finally clicked for you. It wasn’t playing with you like you were food. It wasn’t trying to taste you and pick it’s teeth with your bones. It wanted to be with you. To breed you.

“I—ah~♡!” You bit down on your lip to contain the pretty moans that left your mouth. Your bra was removed, fully exposing your breasts. Its tongue touched the tip of your nipple and its mouth enveloped over your entire areola. It licked and sucked on the bud until it was nice and hard. The other hand was subtly slipped under your dress.

It took barely any strength at all to rip the fabric, showing how inappropriately wet you’d become from this activity. It craved the essence that was oozing from your tiny cunt.

At the feeling of the cold wind, you brought your legs together just to have them forced apart again. The creature made you feel so small and vulnerable. It used force when it felt necessary but overall, it was….soft. Licking, kissing, biting but no drawing blood, taste, loving.

It salivated at your legs, raising one and nuzzling the side of its face into the smooth skin. “So…gorgeous.” It pulled you forward. “When I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“Y-You did…?” You squeaked. It’s touch sent goosebumps from your limp to the rest of your body. “Two years I’ve been watching you. It was so damn annoying seeing you talk to that piece of meat.”

Piece of meat?

“I don’t know who you mean.” You shied away from the perfect creature. Could it mean…

“F-Francis?” You knitted your eyes together in confusion.

“Yes—HIM!” The doppelgänger dropped your leg and pulled you by your thighs to its crotch. “…I could never decide what skin would be the best to pursue you in. But then I’d see the way you look at him.” Pre-cum was beginning to show from its member inside. You could feel the wet fabric on the lips of your hot cunt. “So, I became him…but better.”

You heard the subtle unzipping sound of the pants and it took out its thick cock. It was larger than normal and didn't look like the standard male genitalia. You’d need to use both hands to hold it.

There was no denying this thing could perfectly replicate a human man. Before you could even react, the big “man” picked you up by your hair.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded and you felt obligated to obey him. You’ve never been in a situation where you were being held up by a man like this.

“I’m gonna split you in half with this cock.” He pushed its large tip against your cheek, straining it with warm cum. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted for a moment but you hesitated. There was no way that whole thing could fit into your mouth. Your eyes traveled up to his for guidance. He only stared down at you with hard, tired eyes. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.

“I said…open your mouth.”

He spoke through his teeth as if it were a threat. You were reluctant but tried to ease it in. You kissed his tip, causing him to grunt and tighten his fist around your hair. “Open.” He growled, yanking your head back. His cock was so close to your face that you could truly take in its side. It was nearly the length of your skull.

You opened your mouth out of fear and he shoved it inside. He was kind enough to let you get used to it in your throat by going soft and slow…or maybe he was just distracted by the imprint showing on your throat.

You grabbed his hips to keep yourself from falling backward. Even a bit of force made you lose your balance. “Good girl.” He sighed, relaxing into you, pushing the limits by pushing it deeper. Your choking and gagging only made him feel pleasure.

“You struggling with my dick in your mouth is so hot.” You heard him mutter under his breath. Your eyes began to water from the choking, causing tears to carry mascara down your cheeks.

“Keep sucking.” He fucked into your throat and gentle too. “I’m close.”

Both of his hands found themselves on the back of your head. He sped up his pace until a loud groan emitted from his chest and a mysterious liquid found its way down your throat.

The doppelgänger let go of your hair. You fell back on your bottom and he crouched down. “Hey.” He called, grabbed both sides of your face with one hand. He squeezed your cheeks together. “Swallow.”

You swallowed what was left and once he knew it was in your belly, his lips crashed into yours. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth and explored every cavern.

You felt yourself get lifted again but this time to your feet. He walked you over to your dining table and shoved you into it. “Bend over.”

You didn’t really get a choice. When you tried to stand, he forced you down to the table with his hand on the back of your head.

You expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. You felt him explore your backside from your hips to your exposed ass. The wind was so cold but his hands were so warm.

He chuckled darkly, spreading your ass cheeks and sticking his shaft in between. His dick was so much bigger than you that you would definitely have a belly bulge because of it. He wanted to experience it for himself.

You waited with silent anticipation for him what he would do next. You weren’t too sexually active anymore because you wanted to reserve that for the real Francis, if you ever got the chance with him, so you were really nervous about having something so big inside.

“Uah!” You squeaked, feeling a wet, warm muscle enter the deepest part of your cunt. It was his tongue!

You whipped your head around to see that his face was buried in you from behind. “Mmm.” You heard him hum vibrations into you. He consumed all of your juices as they came out. It must’ve tasted so good coming from a pretty human like you.

With every moan and whimper that left your mouth, it made his dick grow harder and harder. He didn’t stop until you had creamed all over his tongue. So much came out that it got all over his face too.

“I-Is that it? Is that what you want…?” You asked, but you were only ignored.

“Pick a hole.”

“Wh-wha—“

“Pick a hole, or I will.”

Pick…a hole…?

His large thumb massaged your asshole while his knuckles, now sleek with your cream, was stimulating your pussy.

“Um…I—“

“Both it is!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

You felt his thumb sink deep into your ass while he struggled to get his large tip into your pussy. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” He growled through his teeth. His free hand grabbed your ass, fingers sinking in so deep they’d leave marks.

“W-Wait, you have to go slow!” You cried, face heating up from being touched in such filthy ways. “I am.” He grumbled, pushing the limits of your vagina by forcing himself inside. Despite going at the pace of a snail, the pain of trying to fit himself inside didn’t decrease at all. You helplessly clawed at the table beneath you. It didn’t matter how wet you were. He was too big.

It took a moment but he was able to get it. It slipped in with much ease on his end but the difference inside made you gasp so hard you needed to cover your mouth.

The doppelgänger began thrusting without warning, quickly overstimulating you. You could feel him in your stomach too. You reach back to push him off of you but he just grabbed your arm and kept it. There wasn’t much you could do to get someone this big off of you. You would only take it.

“P-Please…I can’t take it!” You gapped out, drool escaped your mouth as you tried to form words. He was fucking you so hard you couldn’t even think. All that could be heard around the room was the lewd slapping of his filled balls against the bottom of your pussy.

“Beg for it then. Say you love me.” His breath hitched. “Say you want me and I’ll let you go.”

“I—“ Slap!

You tried to speak. “I wa—“ Slap!

It seemed that when you tried to comply with him, he’d remove the hand playing with your asshole to leave a rough, skin-reddening slap on your ass. Your struggling amused him. He couldn’t help but smile.

The doppelgänger has been stalking you for so long. It was hard getting into your apartment normally because of the last doorman but he couldn’t resist you once you were sitting at that desk.

“What’s wrong?” He teased, his deep voice going soft. “My dick isn’t in your mouth anymore…so what’s the issue?” He chuckled. “Beg.”

“I want you!” You blurted out.

“You…want me? Say there’s no one else. Say you love me!” It was like music to his ears, really. It was helping him reach his climax.

“I…I love you—“

“FUCK!”

Your belly bulge quickly became bigger as his cum painted your walls and womb. Even with his dick growing more flaccid, he continued to fuck his cum into you so that you both knew who you belonged to now. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you squirted onto his cock, mixing your juices together.

“I love you too, Princess. More than you could ever imagine—“ Before he could finish, his ears perked up almost like an animal. His attention turned towards your door that he had destroyed before. “Here they come.” He muttered, putting his member back into his pants.

You weakly lifted yourself from the table. Your hand placed itself tight below your navel. It was so sore now. “Who’s coming…? What are you talking about…?”

The doppelgänger ignored you, its horns flesh and bones began contorting and changing color. Its physique turned from that of a huge masculine man to the familiar form of that of a D.D.D. member. Yellow suit and all.

It ran to the door, opening it, and sticking its head out. “I found her, she's in here!” Its voice changed to a generic man as well. Not at all like the deep gruff from before.

Your legs felt like jelly, you fell to the ground as soon as you were able to stand. They were numb from the pleasure, leaving you unable to walk.

What happened next went by as a blur. The D.D.D. Reinforcement Team took you to a hospital where you were taken care of and given rape kit. You were unable to refuse it once the forensics team found semen at the scene. In order to maintain faith in the D.D.D., your assault was largely covered up but only those who were in the apartment that day knew about it.

After the commotion of filing our paperwork and giving information, you were sent home. You didn’t sustain any life threatening injuries but you were asked to come in periodically to see how your body would react to having the semen of a doppelgänger inside of you…so now you were a bit of a test subject to them. You quit the job after that but you were quickly replaced by a new guy.

You hadn’t seen the doppelgänger the entire time. Or at least, you thought you didn’t. You wanted to process the situation but you were more confused as to why it craved so much validation from you. It wanted you to say you loved it. It wanted you to say that you wanted it. It said that it’s been waiting two years to be this close to you. It looked like Francis.

You had just arrived back home. Carpenters quickly replaced your door before you got home and you decided to continue life as usual by making dinner for yourself. Your heart still aches from the fear you felt when you thought you were going to die. And so did your vagina. It didn’t bleed, thank god, but it was sore to the touch from how big that monster was.

“Man, I thought you’d never come back.”

You were alone in your kitchen when a voice emitted from behind you. The familiarity in the voice made your heart drop. You quickly turned around to see the doppelgänger from before, masquerading as Francis again.

“What are you doing here? What do you—“

“Shh, princess.” He strided through your small kitchen, stepping so close to you that you were against the counter with nowhere else to go. You placed your hands on his chest, giving you the illusion that you could push him away. He grabbed your arm by the wrist before kissing the inside of your palm. He kissed your fingers and then the back of your hand before making you cup his cheek, which he nuzzled into lovingly.

You wanted to rip your hand away but his grip was so strong. You blushed. Was it wrong to admit that he…it, was attractive?

“Why didn’t you kill me and eat me? Why did you do that to me?” You questioned meekly. His eyes were closed, enjoying your warm touch with a smile before they opened. His eyes were like hunter's eyes. “Because I love you.” He replied flatly.

“I don’t know what that means…”

You opened your mouth to speak again but you were cut off by a knock at your door.

“I’ll get it.” The doppelgänger quickly said and in a mere second, it shapeshifted to turn into…you. It was able to mimic you in all your glory, including the hickeys, bites and bruises from your attack.

“No!” You blurted out. “Don’t do that.”

The doppelgänger allowed you to move away from it and your arm fell to your side. You went to get the door but you made sure to check who it was before opening.

It was Francis!

“It’s him!” You hurried to your bedroom to find your cardigan to cover your tattered clothes before answering the door.

“Francis? What brings you here?” You forced a smile but your eyes looked just as tired as his. You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I heard what happened. ‘m so glad you’re okay.” Francis sighed, quickly invading your personal space. He hugged you to his chest. You blinked “F-Francis…?”

“I felt all torn up when I thought you died but when I heard that you were just fine, I just had to come see you myself.” Your stomach burned with delight. Francis was worried about you?

Francis let go of you and you pulled away. His face was red like he was blushing and you couldn’t help but blush too. Your lips curled into a smile. “W-Well, I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He wanted to smile back but he couldn’t. He saw the marks on your skin. You were hurt. “I know you are.” He masked his sadness with a weak smile. He rested his hand on your head and ruffled it a bit.

It would probably be inappropriate for him to admit that he’s actually had feelings for you all this time, so he’d save it for another day. Hearing the news about the doppelgänger through gossip during his job of going door to door made him realize he could lose you at any moment. But today, he settled with placing a kiss at the crown of your head. “Stay safe. I’ll check on you again later.”

For a moment, everything in your life went still. Even after he had walked away and left you standing there, it didn’t feel real. This more or less confirmed he had a crush on you as well. No man just does that and doesn’t see you as more than just a neighbor.

Your heart fluttered as you came back to reality. You slipped back inside of your home. You need to get cleaned up! You had to bathe and find something suitable just in case Francis wanted to come inside upon your next meeting.

But then….

“You look awfully happy.”

The doppelgänger was still here. You gulped, seeing his much bigger form. He grabbed the sides of your face with his hand again. He didn’t bother crouching because of your size difference, leaving you standing on the tips of your toes.

You were too shocked to try defending yourself, so he continued. “I saw everything so don’t even try to lie. That bastard is so lucky that I have to lay low until the D.D.D. gets their claws out of you or else I would’ve…”

“Don’t hurt him!” You tried to beat and punch his arm to get him off but he didn’t budge. “Why not?!”

“Because…I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad, do you?” Your voice was unlabeled and lacked confidence. It was a Hail Mary but you’d do anything to prevent Francis from getting hurt.

“Shit.” The doppelgänger let go of you, setting you back on your feet. It seemed…conflicted. He paced around your living room briefly. It had a soft spot for you but you could tell it has trouble processing emotions like a person. It was just imitating a person to get what it wanted.

“You don’t want him. You just wanna marry a guy. I’ll marry you.”

You shook your head. “No. Y-You can’t. You’re not him.”

“Of course I am.” His expression became mischievous. A smirk settled on his handsome face. “You can even call me Francis in bed if it fancies you.”

You felt your stomach do a flip!

“No! I’m not calling you that. Even though you look just like him…wh-what do I call you anyway…?” You retreated inward, hugging yourself and looking quite nervous as if the situation was beginning to dawn on you. You were currently desired by one of the most dangerous beings in the world.

“Francis.”

“Stop! I’m never using that name for you.” You got angry enough to shove him but he didn’t move an inch. You quickly realized that you shouldn’t push too hard or else it might change its mind and kill you.

“Mmm….” You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the monster. “Wh-What about Franz? Is that good enough for you…?”

Franz, huh?

“Perfect.”

Tagged Folks: @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #Francis Mosses x reader #Milk Man #Milk man x reader #Yandere Milk Man x Reader #Yandere francis mosses #tnmn #doppleganger #dark romance

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mariasont · 1 month ago

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Copper Changes Color - A.H

all you wanted was to stop your new kitchen from flooding. what you got was a crash course in home repair, body awareness, and what mr. hotchner looks like in a dripping dress shirt

pairings: aaron hotchner x intern!reader warnings: suggestive themes, mild accidental injury, clothing transparency, mentions of aging (el oh el), slow burn (with water damage), sexual tension but we r making it neighborly, age gap, home repair as foreplay, science girl flirts via plumbing vocabulary, ballcock failure (swear) wc: 1.9k

Water sluices through your shoes in persistent little pulses, seeping into your socks and establishing a semi-permanent colony in the crevices between your toes.

You purse your lips and pitch yourself forward, clutching at the hem of your tank like you might peel the cold from your skin if you just squeeze hard enough. It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t.

The fabric clings tighter instead, now suctioned to your spine, a damp, vindictive second skin with a grudge. (Hydrophilic fibers. That’s why. Cotton loves water. An ironic choice, in retrospect, for someone who knows that cellulose absorbs up to 27 times its own weight.)

So now you’re mid-drip, mid-shiver, mid-existential reckoning over the catastrophic intersection between you and the American household plumbing system when the door swings open.

And there he is, framed in clean lines and afternoon light — your neighbor, your new neighbor, your prohibitively attractive, aggressively symmetrical new neighbor.

What a great impression you seem to be making judging by the look he gives you, as if trying to discern whether this is a cry for help or just your natural state of being.

You realize, belatedly, that you don’t even know which one you’d prefer him to believe.

“Hi! I — okay. This is probably the weirdest neighbor interaction you’ve had all month. Maybe all year. But my kitchen kind of exploded? Not exploded-exploded, there weren’t any flames or concussive blasts or flaming shards of sink shrapnel, just… water. A lot of it. From a valve? Under the sink? It’s called a ballcock, which sounds fake but it’s a real word, I checked. Anyway there was, like, geyser-level water pressure shooting into my ceiling and I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here. Not because I thought you could fix it, necessarily, unless you can? But mostly because I panicked. Which I don’t normally do.”

He regards you silently for a moment, his expression closed off, reminding you of a combination lock, one your brain immediately fumbles through every numeric permutation it can conjure to open it.

“I can come take a look. And call a plumber.”

He gestures for you to lead the way, falling in step behind you, or maybe beside you. It’s hard to tell. Spatial awareness takes a backseat the second his eyes dip toward the distressingly see-through state of your shirt.

He jerks his eyes away in gentlemanly fashion, burning himself on a hot stove.

Clearing his throat, he recovers, “Do you know if your water main’s outside or under the sink?”

You cross your arms, an attempted picture of casual confidence, though realistically more akin to frantic self-containment via strategically placed limbs.

You hope he doesn’t notice.

“It’s under the sink, I think. I mean sixty percent of residential shutoff valves are installed there, though some new models route to an external main, especially in cold climates, but this house predates modular plumbing standards so — yeah. Probably the sink.”

He nods once, as if you had offered a completely ordinary and appropriate response. As if normal people regularly volley niche plumbing statistics at each other in casual conversation.

Most people — regular, socially adjusted humans — would’ve blinked. Or winced a little. Or at least made that polite, closed-mouth “ah” sound that universally signals, please, for the love of god, stop talking.

But not Mr. Hotchner. (Aaron? Hotchner? You weren’t sure which name was appropriate.) He just steps into your house, either unfazed by you or polite enough to hide his confusion exceptionally well.

He crosses the kitchen in three measured strides, slacks neatly creased, white dress shirt still buttoned to the collar.

His posture practically screams executive burnout, like he spent his entire day navigating high-stakes conference calls and patiently explaining things to people he silently considered throttling.

You conclude swiftly and confidently that he must be some kind of CEO. Something complicated, lucrative, and mildly sinister. Finance, perhaps. Or no, something with a more predatory reputation. Venture capital? Private equity? Arms dealing? (Okay, not arms dealing.)

Whatever it is, you’re sure it involves quarterly earnings calls, shareholder appeasement, and an extensive collection of expensive ties.

But then again, he does live here. In this neighborhood, which is lovely, sure, all quiet and sun-dappled, all responsibly pruned hedges and tasteful porch lighting. You love it. You also could never have afforded it if the house hadn’t been, you know, inherited.

Still, it’s not exactly executive-suite-level real estate.

Unless, of course, he’s one of those hyper-rational finance-blog devotees who preach aggressive saving strategies and believe visible wealth is for amateurs. You could picture that. Actually, it fits him perfectly. Or at least, it fits perfectly with the version of him your brain is assembling based on fifteen seconds of sidewalk interaction and your wildly unused behavioral science coursework.

You haven’t exactly been studying him, per se, but certain details lodge themselves in your pattern-attuned brain. It can’t be helped.

He leaves early. Returns late, consistently solo, and displays zero evidence of a cohabiting partner. There’s no second vehicle, no conspicuous brunch plans on weekends. His grocery trips result in single-serving bags and he waters that one sad potted plant but never waves at Mindi Daugherty across the street who strategically times her daily walks past his house in distinctly flattering activewear.

He also runs every morning. You know this in the same way you know tides shift or birds migrate because he passes your porch at precisely 6:12 AM.

Same routine, same pace, same gray T-shirt darkened at the collar and clinging to upper-body definition. You’ve taken to waking up early under the noble guise of catching the sunrise before class, gaze angled vaguely toward the horizon, which just so happens to intersect with his jogging path.

But now, with him crouched at your sink, sleeves pushed past his forearms — which, by the way, are absolutely in the top percentile of forearm presentation — you confirm those jogs have a definitive purpose. Strong legs. Powerful quads capable of door-demolishing force. Not that you’ve considered that.

“Can you hand me that towel?”

You comply instantly, arm extending stiffly, acutely aware of the warmth radiating off him in slow, magnetic waves, like a space heater, or maybe a heat lamp, but one inexplicably gifted with superb genetics and bone structure.

He takes it, fingers brushing yours in an accidental collision. You would think it’s negligible by most standards, and yet your entire sensory network lights up simultaneously.

Without a word, he resumes his investigation beneath the sink, using the towel as makeshift padding for one knee.

You shift your weight, then decide proximity is crucial for educational purposes, lowering yourself onto the tile, whose damp chill promptly seeps through your leggings. Not enough to dissuade you.

“What exactly are you looking for?” you ask, voice soft so it doesn’t bounce too loud in the small kitchen.

“Fault point on the fill line. If it’s clean, it’s a seal issue. If it’s corroded, you’ll need a full replacement.”

Your lips turn to a frown.

“If it is corroded, is it something you can patch temporarily or is it full replacement only?”

He turns to respond, but his gaze slips past your eyes, dropping downward for what seems like the seventh time in ten minutes, and precisely then, his arm brushes the loosened valve with just enough force to dislodge it.

Water explodes in a vicious surge, hitting him squarely in the chest and smacking you on the cheek.

Before you can move or breathe or curse, he’s already between you and the line of fire, arm braced against the cabinet, deflecting the brunt of the stream. Water barrels into his side, soaking through his pristine shirt in seconds.

Amidst the roar of rushing spray, you hear the metallic groan, the protesting grind of something finally surrendering beneath the steady force of his hand, and at last, the deluge tapers.

He exhales and then turns to look at you, shirt molded to his pecs, sleeves dripping onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low but not annoyed, if anything, it’s amused.

You offer him a weak smile, still blinking through droplets. “No, it’s — this is my fault. I should be the one apologizing. I mean, I’m the one who dragged you into this mess.”

He huffs a laugh, and there’s a dimple there, you realize, half-hidden beneath rain-slicked skin and a mouth pulling into something between wry and warm.

His hair drapes across his forehead, coiling slightly now that it’s wet.

You’re still smiling, you think, though hopefully in a restrained, adult, totally-not-enamored-neighbor sort of way.

He tilts his head at the pipe, then looks back at you over one shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re going to need a full replacement.” He gestures vaguely at the sad, dripping underbelly of the sink. “I can shut it off from the main for now, but it needs to be looked at professionally.”

“Right.” You nod. “I’ll just add this to my ever-expanding list of adult learning experiences.” He moves toward the shutoff as you wipe water from your eyes with the edge of your tank top. “Seriously, though, thank you. I know this isn’t exactly a neighborly favor on the usual spectrum of things.”

“This was… not the worst emergency call I’ve had,” he says, almost smiling.

You’re about to respond, standing from your spot, to ask what could possibly be worse than this, when your heel skids across the drenched floor.

Your arms flail instinctively, grabbing at the nearest available support, which, of course, is him. He moves quickly, to his credit, trying to stabilize you, but the momentum carries you both backward. You tumble gracelessly into a slippery, tangled heap.

He mostly succeeds in cushioning your fall, though the resulting thud against the floor elicits a sharp grunt from him. Your palms, meanwhile, end up planted squarely against his very wet, very muscular chest.

You freeze, trapped somewhere between outright panic and complete sensory overload. His hands rest firmly on your waist in a futile attempt to salvage the situation, but the situation is well beyond saving, you’re adhered to him, nipples peaked against a top that’s now suctioned to skin. He has to feel it. And worse, your hair is now stuck across his face, one curl draped over his temple like an attempt at decoration.

His face, you notice, is stupidly handsome this close up. You can see the exact shape of his jaw, the way his lashes cluster into tiny spikes, the faint suggestion of stubble shadowing his skin, a brow that ticks just briefly as your breath catches against his collarbone.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine!” you blurt, immediately launching into what can only be described as an anxious, full-body scramble off him. “Are you okay? Because I landed right on your — well, your thoracic region, technically, which absorbs impact better than your lower back, but still, that was a lot of force and you’re older —” You stop. “— I mean, not older, I just mean relatively speaking, like, statistically, the male spine starts to degenerate past thirty-five and — okay, I’m going to stop talking now.”

He stands with a grunt, more from effort than pain, and offers you his hand.

“You know,” he says, clasping yours as he lifts you to your feet. “I didn’t realize I was old until you mentioned it.”

Your face goes hot. “I didn’t mean you specifically, it was a general observation about musculoskeletal aging and —” You cut yourself off with a wince. “Right. Not helping.”

He exhales, a laugh almost, then glances at the kitchen. “I’ll call a plumber I know. They should be able to come out tomorrow and I can come by and oversee it, if you want.”

“Oh. Really? You’d — yeah. Thank you. That’d be great.”

He gives a nod, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing in a ruin of your own making. Then he opens the door. “Try to get some rest.”

And you will. Probably. Eventually.

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pacifistsworstnightmare · 1 month ago

Text

HANDPRINTS — college!hitoshi shinsou

it's been, what, four years? since you've seen hitoshi— shinsou— whatever. he looks good, more grown than you can remember. time for an impromptu reunion!

MINORS DNI & warnings: alcohol and drug use (weed), oral sex (f. receiving) & slightttt overstim if you squint :p

a/n : this came to me like a fucking vision im telling you. like how extremely dehydrated people see mirages of an oasis. i get horny and see shinsou hitoshi. also name of this is from this song by chrysalis. cause i was listening when i started writing it. zero connection just a banger lmao. anyway blacked out and this is here! do enjoy mwah

m.list !

the noise is starting to give you a headache, that and the lights that are definitely too bright and flashy for just a random frat party. kaminari's already run off to mingle, leaving you alone in a house full of people you don't know despite being the one to drag you here— an attempt to "have some more fun", and "cheer up such a gloomy roomie".

you're not gloomy, just busy, coursework is tiring and frankly kicking your ass, but from where you're sitting on an unpopulated part of the kitchen bench nursing a warm cup of beer— you might look a little gloomy to any passerby.

you huff at your phone, failing another level of one of those puzzle games you mainly installed to give kami something to do when you're trying to tell him something (ipad baby, seriously. it's bad), before turning the whole thing off and shoving it into your back pocket. when you look up from your lap, you immediately have to do a double take, 'cause there's no way thats—

"holy shit, toshi?— err, shinsou?" his posture straightens up almost immediately, ears— pierced to oblivion— colouring with red as he looks over at the direction of your voice. he stares at you, like he's not entirely sure you're real, before walking away from whoever he was talking to in favour of you.

"fuck, yeah hi." hitoshi says your name like it belongs to him, like he's weighing it out on his tongue.

"how've you, uh- you been? s'been ages, y'look good." good is maybe an understatement, he looks insane. hair still dyed purple, dark roots like he needs a retouch, but it's longer and all dragged up out of his face by a thin metal-toothed headband— showing off the double eyebrow piercings he's sporting.

your eyes drag over him, and his do the same to you. the both of you taking it all in after such a long time apart.

he looks nervous as he huffs out a small laugh, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck— the same anxious tic still there. "yeah, yeah you too. four years? something crazy like that?"

you nod, humming as you still stare at him before lazily gesturing to his face— to the ears, the eyebrows, the nostrils, the fucking lip ring—

"i like the, uh- metal situation going on, shinsou" he winces like he's been fucking shot, sucking in a breath through his teeth before speaking again.

"hitoshi— toshi is fine. s'not like we're strangers or anything, s'still just me 'nd you." he takes a sip from his cup— water, you assume. he never liked drinking— before gesturing to the space above your elbow. "i like your tattoo."

you gesture back at all of him.

"i like yours, how'd they go over with your dad?" you match his actions, taking a sip from your cup and hiding a grimace from the taste as you stare at him— both of his arms inked to hell, some kind of suminagashi that you assume crawls up over his left shoulder 'cause you can see it peek up out of the collar of his shirt. you wonder if he has more that you can't see now.

"eh, old man stopped giving a shit after the third one." he shrugs it off casually, but you're cataloguing it— squirreling it away in the section of your mind labelled hitoshi.

you nod at that, leaning closer. "how's he doing?"

"my dad?" when you nod again, genuinely asking and genuinely seeking answers, he keeps going. "uh, yeah he's good— still teaching, which is nuts. eri's trying to get him to retire 'nd just rest for a bit, but uh- dad doesn't do that"

you blink at that, brows furrowed as you think about the little girl he's talking about— the little girl who can't be that little anymore.

"oh shit, eri— she's, what? thirteen? fourteen?"

he grins. "close, fifteen."

you grin back, even as a scandalised "no!" escapes your mouth. hitoshi matches you, like he always did. does.

"yes! her birthday was last month."

you clear your throat, eyes widening as you really think about it— about how long it's really been. "that's insane, wow— makes me feel old."

"you are old, s'the big twenty-four this year, isn't it?" your face flares with heat, blood warming the surface of your cheeks at the idea of being so well known. known entirely.

"yeah, it is. how's school? wait— how come you're here? isn't your uni in kobe?" he shrugs, a non-committal sound escaping his mouth as he flicks his tongue over his lip ring.

"months break, staying with dad 'nd eri," you nod again as he talks, finding yourself doing that way more than you usually would— actually engaging in conversation rather than just pretending. "kami heard monoma 'nd i were gonna be in musutafu, found a way to drag us in." you gasp, scandalised again by the words he says. he grins.

"what?! he knew you were here? asshole didn't tell me shit, i would've wanted to know," the latter half of your sentence is quieter, gentle annoyance at kami for not saying anything about something so big simmering below the surface. you push it down and tilt your head onto your shoulder, a lazy smile decorating your face. "missed you, y'know? four years is a long time."

"yeah, s'a long time. i missed you too, obviously." hitoshi says it like it is obvious, like you felt that same grief for the friendship that was there (you did, you do), and then he lifts his chin higher. "how much have you had to drink?"

you look at him sceptically, but you're sure it's not effective paired with the grin splitting your face.

"why, you metering me?" he scoffs out a laugh. god, how you've missed that fucking sound. "barely half a beer, don't know anyone here really 'nd i'm gonna need to drag kami out of here by the feet later probably." you scrunch your nose at the idea. that really is how these things tend to go when kaminari can finally manage to drag you out of the apartment.

"huh." you blink at him, setting your cup down on the bench beside your thigh. you don't seem to catch the way his eyes follow it.

"what?"

"do you wanna share a blunt? old times sake or whatever? i have a few pre-rolls on me, so..." he sounds nervous again, like he's propositioning you. you tilt your chin forward, closing in more on his space.

"what, you wouldn't mind sharing? mister 'hordes his weed like a dragon'?" he laughs, properly and fully, and you feel your stomach swoop so hard you're sure you'd have to be on a rollercoaster.

"don't mind if it's you."

"sweet talker," you hum, sliding off the kitchen bench now and standing up to your full height in front of him. when did he get so tall? "okay, c'mon— can probably find a spare room or something, it'll be quieter than out here and no one's gonna try to poach a drag."

hitoshi nods, a few times in quick succession— another anxious tic that still remains.

"clever." you try not to outwardly preen at the praise as you begin to wander through the swathes of drunk college kids in search of quiet.

"s'been ages, seriously— y'should have told me you were coming down this way." you murmur, the words slow and heavy in your mouth. and it feels so normal, to have skipped past all the obnoxious small talk and just lie in some random bed in the frat house— feels like no time as passed at all as you both stare up at the ceiling.

"kami said you're strapped with coursework, didn't wanna fuck with your flow or whatever," you huff at that, tilting your head to meet his eyes as he talks— slow blinks matching his own. "should've said i was coming, didn't know how."

your brows furrow slightly, pitching up a little on your elbow so you're looking down at him— headband forgotten and hair splayed against the bed.

"what do you mean?"

"s'been ages, like you said," he sighs. "wasn't sure if we were still friends."

"always friends, fucking dumbass— carry you 'round in my phone case, y'know? that photobooth one with you, 'nd me, 'nd eri." he blinks up at you, a lazy smile plastered to his face.

"fuck off— show me," you nod, already pulling your phone out of your back pocket and popping off the phone case to offer him the photo strip. "huh, look at that."

"s'cute, huh? she looks so little," you hum, tilting your head down until you're leaning the side of your face against his forehead as he looks at the photos. "and you look so sleepy."

"i still look sleepy." he deadpans, moving slow to look up at you more— handing off the photo strip for you to tuck safely back in your phone case.

"mm i guess, yeah." you lift your head away from his a little, still looking down at him as a hand comes up to gently tap at his eyebrow piercing with your thumb. "this is nice, when'd you get it done?"

he swallows thick, like it's a difficult task, before responding. "soon as i moved."

you nod lazily, a small smile on your face as your thumb slides down to tap at his nose rings.

"'nd these?"

"'round the same time."

"and this one?" your words aren't much louder than a whisper as you drag the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip— over the black ring healed and settled right in the middle of the plush flesh. he hums, staring at you with half-lidded eyes as he watches your movements, and he swallows as he feels a little pressure from your thumb on his mouth— adams apple bobbing just slightly as he takes you in.

"'bout a year ago, s'fully healed 'nd everything."

you're not entirely sure who kissed who first, whether it was hitoshi who dragged you down into it and held you there, or if it was you and he just followed so obediently— but it doesn't matter with how you're both already panting and licking into each other's mouths, teeth catching on metal and spit slicking both of your lips.

"oh, s'— 'nother one-" you mumble the words clumsily against his mouth, pointing out the metal ball in his mouth that drags against your tongue as he deepens the kiss.

"mhm, tongue piercing," your stomach swoops as he grins into his kiss, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "shut up, jus' lemme kiss you."

"got it, got it—"

it goes on like that for a while, the slow push and pull of lips and tongues and hands, until he's breaking away from your mouth to duck his head below your chin and mouth at your neck— all the while panting quietly as his tongue drags along the column of your throat. not leaving marks, not if he doesn't know you like them.

"lemme go down on you? or, uh- can i? go down on you?" he huffs softly against your collarbone, pressing a softer kiss there before pitching up to kiss along your jaw and close to your ear. "please?"

you laugh at his insistence, hands coming up to brush through his hair. "think you're the first person who's ever added a 'please' about wanting to eat me out."

"that's fucked, don't tell me that—" he groans the words out, like it's a fucking travesty to hear you say that (it is). "god, you're so pretty you know that? so fucking pretty."

"you're pretty."

"not like you are, here— lay down, whatever's comfy for you i can work with." you hum at that, laying back but still pitched up on your elbows. he grins again, high and lazy, before ducking down to kiss you again.

his lips eventually leave yours again and trail down your jaw to your neck, gentle kisses and laves of tongue brushing along heated skin as he moves along your collarbone. he pushes your shirt up, just enough to expose your bra— one of his hands running along the exposed skin of your side, tracing over curves and dips of your body, his touch soft but so possessive as his other hand comes up to yank his shirt over his head in one fluid motion and toss it somewhere on the other end of the bed.

so the tattoo does crawl up his neck. huh.

"lift your hips a little, help me out here." his words snap you out of the little daze you had going on, hips pitching up to make it easier for him to drag your pants down. you're suddenly really glad you wore pretty, but still sturdy, underwear— surely soaked by now.

"oh these are cute, glad 'm seeing 'em and not someone else."

"shut up."

"'m serious, they're cute. you're cute." he punctuates his words with a few kisses, a few gentle nips, to the inside of your thighs— looking up at you with half-lidded eyes that have you clenching around nothing. "can i take them off?"

you nod at him and his smile only brightens, hands coming down to tug your underwear down and off your legs— tossing them gently on top of his discarded shirt.

"fuck, look at you." he murmurs the words with such reverence you almost feel shy, and the cold almost sting of his rings as his palms glide up and down your thighs doesn't exactly help. "so fucking pretty, seriously."

he drops his head down now, settled on his knees between your legs, and kisses down your stomach— a slow, wet trail that has you squirming around just a little, and when he fucking smiles against your hip bone, you can't help but let out a sighed moan.

"i got it, i got it— this is cool?" he looks at you as he settles now on his stomach— hands wrapped around your thighs as he ducks low enough to breathe hot air across your cunt as he talks.

one of your hands comes up to thread into his hair, leaving you half-up on one elbow as you watch him.

"yeah, s'cool. 'm good." he nods, a few times in quick succession, before pressing a kiss to your clit— and as if he used the small jolt as your bodies permission, sinks down to drag his flattened tongue over you.

your hips tick up into his mouth as your head drops back with a whine, and a groan from him vibrates against you— sending waves of pleasure over your entire body.

"fuck, baby— y'taste so fucking good, better than i every fucking imagined." you don't register hitoshi's words, not really, kind of busy trying not to lose it and cum already and embarrass yourself— but with the way he's pressed up against you, pierced tongue dipping into your leaking entrance as he laps you up, and the way he's talking to you— it's more than a little hard.

the sounds coming from you, from him, are absurd. you can't remember any time when someone's made you feel like this, and you tug at his hair a little harder when the metal ball of his tongue bar knocks into your clit. the sound he makes at that is debauched, his hips grinding down into the mattress seeking friction and pressure— cock at attention and surely leaking into his boxers.

"so fucking sweet, huh?" he talks into your cunt, like there's conversation to be had there, and he all but whines out against you when you pull his hair again. so that's a thing he likes, you catalogue it. squirrel it away for later.

"wait, fuck— 'm gonna cum—" you're panting, writhing around a little as if you can't decide if you wanna drag his face closer to you or push him away. how much time has passed? it feels like forever and five minutes all at the same time.

"s'the point, baby, you got it." he mumbles against you, coming up for air for a second to kiss at your inner most thigh. "i gotcha." rolls off his tongue before his lips return to where you want him most, slurping and sucking at you, and if you weren't so out of it the noises would embarrass you.

"no, 's too soon— fuck, fuckfuckfuck, toshi-"

"lemme have it, s'okay." he focuses his mouth more on your clit now, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and running his tongue back and forth— breathing into you, spit bubbling up and over his chin and down into the little wet patch under your ass. part you, and part him.

when you do cum, all breathy and shaky and fucking beautiful, he doesn't give you much of a reprieve— lifting his head just a little to suck in a few quick breaths before dropping his face back down. like he can't get enough of you (he can't).

"one more— c'mon baby, jus' one more, for me?" your head snaps up, cunt sensitive and pulsing as his mouth seals back over it, but you make no move to shove him away yet.

"you're fucking crazy— holy fuck, toshi-" he ruts into the bed more, moaning into your pussy as his hips stutter— sensitive and such a goner after hearing you like this. having you like this.

"there it is, you got it." he's grinning as he talks into your cunt, not moving his mouth away while he babbles praise even as your second orgasm within a minute ebbs and flows in fucking waves— pulses of electricity that fry your brain and make your vision swim. his tongue dips again, dragging up until the metal ball catches on your clit in a way that makes your hips jolt— only then is your hand finally tugging at his hair to pull him away.

"okay- okay! enough, s'too much—" you whine, breathless and boneless all the same. "jesus christ."

he huffs, pressing a soft, final kiss to your clit before sitting up a little and resting his head against your thigh— nuzzling his cheek into the meat of you.

"good?"

"good he asks? you're crazy."

"yeah, 'bout you." you laugh, soft and out of breath, as your chest rises and falls. he sits up more, rising to his knees again better your legs— hands brushing up and down your thighs all the while he scans the room for a box of tissues or something. "here, lemme clean you up a little—"

"what about you? 'm not useless, lemme suck your dick." he stares down at you, his face and ears and neck addled with heat as he brings a hand up to brush through his sweaty hair.

"uh- no, we're good." the pout you offer back almost kills him. almost has him making another mess in his boxers.

"you don't want me to?"

"not that, god i want you to— s'already taken care of itself s'what i mean."

"what, you came in your pants giving head?" he nods like he's proud, because he is proud— making you feel good absolutely made him feel good, sue the guy. "what fucking lab did you crawl out of, why're you so..." you lazily gesture to all of him, a smile on your face as you other hands comes up to rub your face.

"taking that as a compliment." he hums softly, dipping down to kiss you. you taste yourself on his tongue, and hope you'll be allowed to get used to it. "here, you too sensitive to let me help?"

"no, s'okay. i'll say if it's not, or kick you in the head maybe." you let him gently clean you up with a few tissues from the box beside whoever's bed this is, and as he massages his fingers into the meat of your thighs— like a fucking saint— you reach for your phone. "shit, s'almost twelve already."

"what, curfew?" the smug little smile on his face has you rolling your eyes affectionately, sitting up and tugging your shirt back down your chest.

"no, just have an exam in the morning and i need to get kami home." you reach behind yourself and grab for his shirt, offering it to him as you will your legs to work to be able to put your underwear back on. he pouts at you this time. "don't look at me like that, one of the guys'll drive us."

"not an asshole i hope?" you shake your head slightly at his protectiveness— something that's stayed, been stagnant and surfaced even now after all this time. you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him.

"nah, not an asshole."

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

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Kinktober 01/10/2024 Max Verstappen- Voyerism

Plot: Max cannot help but take pictures or videos of you whenever you guys get heated! But what happens when he’s leaving you for a long time.

Warnings: Kinktober, Smut, pillow humping, VOYERISM, masturbation, watched unknowingly etc. 18+ Minors DNI

Max was obsessed with you.

Not in like a creepy stalker way, but in a more … you were his person kind of way.

Every time you came to a race, all he would do is follow you around. His team? Didn’t exist. Christian Horner? Who is that? Sergio Perez? Not sure who you mean.

His interviews were 90% staring at you and 10% listening and answering the interviewer. It actually got to the point, that even though it wasn’t affecting his driving Christian threatened to black-list you from all F1 races.

Max of course didn’t take this lightly.

Due to Max’s obsession with you, when you couldn’t attend race weekends he was sort of lost, just in this limbo area of his mind with nothing to do. Especially if you were doing a modelling gig and didn’t have much time throughout the day to answer him.

So he started to film you, in your more intimate moments to feel closer to you when you were away as the more you started to do, the bigger you were getting and the bigger you got the more you were booked in for.

But it didn’t stop there, once he got to a race weekend and became particularly frustrated he realised how much these videos helped him let off some steam when you weren’t there to help him.

Of course you knew about the videos. It was something fun for you and Max to do to liven up your sex life when you were together.

But then Max became obsessed with the idea of you not knowing when he was playing these videos just for himself. You were unassuming at a shoot, strutting your stuff and he was there tangled up in the sheets of a hotel room in Italy, using one hand to jerk himself off while the other held up his second video of the two of you of the night.

When he would come home, he’d start to watch you get undressed and shower from the crack in the bathroom door that he needed to get fixed but because he felt like he was never home he didn’t ever bother. He would make sure to tell you wrong times that he would get home, just at the off chance he might be able to catch you in a private moment to yourself, hearing those little noises you made and calling out his name as if you knew he was there.

Then came the bedroom camera. Max never told you about this camera, why would he … it was his apartment after all. That’s what he told himself when he was thinking of the idea.

It was one of those motion-activated ones, and he installed it just before a triple header, above the wardrobe in between two show boxes, and unless you were looking specifically for a camera you definitely wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Bye baby I’m going to miss you! Look I’ll try and make it out to your home race. But good luck for the first ones, I love you so so much” you smiled at him kissing all over his face.

“Mmmm I’ll miss you too, don’t know how I’ll last without my gorgeous girl” he sighs before leaving.

But that was a lie, he knew exactly how he would last without you. He knew that camera in the bedroom would make him feel as though he was at home with you. Even if he was just watching you sleep or get changed like he normally did when you both got ready with each other in the mornings.

He waited and waited, pulling his phone out every-time the custom haptic vibration he’d made for the app that linked the camera to his phone so he knew what it was buzzed..

Mostly it was just you doing house chores and bringing washing back to the bedroom to put it away in the closets or changing the bedsheets now that he’d be gone for three weeks so they’d be fresh for when he was back home. He missed you changing the first time because he was out with Lando, Oscar and Charles playing Paddle and his phone was in his gym bag.

He of course rewatched it but he just sort of found it sweet watching you do the same routine you did even when he wasn’t there, only missing out a few steps that normally involved him.

It wasn’t until the night before his first race that he was laying in his hotel room, exhausted from the day he’d had in qualifying and staying late to train on the sim against the teams orders that he saw you more intimately on the cameras.

You’d come into the room rather naturally actually. You had a large cup of water with ice and a straw which wasn’t uncommon for you before you went to bed. You then sat on top of the duvet covers with your back propped up with the pillows against the back board as you put something on the TV.

And you pretty much got through the whole film just watching it drinking your water slowly and eating the snacks you’d brought with you.

He saw you get a little fidgety towards the end but you never were one for sitting still for long periods of time. So he didn’t think anything off it and nearly clicked off for the night until you got your phone up.

He immediately saw the bite of your lip as you started scrolling.

He sat up more awake and alert than he had been the last hour of watching you on and off while you watched your film. He was curious about what was on your phone that was making you bite your lip.

However once he heard the audio come from your phone he was all too familiar with what you were watching. It was a video he’d taken during the last time you guys had had sex with one another. He knew immediately because of what he said at the start of the video.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me while I’m gone?” And when he heard himself say that, he could feel something in him stir.

It excited him, the thought that you were just as desperate and needy as he was.

He watched as one hand travelled down into your silk shorts as you spread you legs open giving you easier access. He watched as you hand grazed over you clit, he couldn’t see much right now with those shorts still on but the light airy moan that he heard through the cameras audio was enough to let him know what your fingers had just brushed against.

He couldn’t even really tell if you were just rubbing yourself through your panties or if you’d pulled them to the side and he wanted to know more. He wanted and needed to see more.

When you made that face, the one where something stated to feel really good that’s when he knew you’d dipped your fingers in a little further, only to test the waters. Your legs closed around your hand as he could hear those sweet noises still coming from you.

You attempted to prop the phone up against your knees but he could see your frustration as it kept sliding down at an angle you could view it.

Max was already hard as a rock from just watching you lightly touch yourself but when you spun round so that you were facing away from him, propping the phone up on the top of the headboard and placing a pillow underneath you he pulled himself right out of his pants.

He almost felt like a pervert but he convinced himself if he told you what he’d done or was doing you’d love the idea. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

His hand rubbed quickly up and down his length as he watched you hump a pillow, which was of course one of his usual ones. Your moans came through the camera way clearer than he had expected.

What caught him and nearly had him letting go of that growing feeling was when you moaned his name.

“Max, fuck please” you’d groaned and the camera had picked it up perfectly, his jaw dropped and his hand sped up seeing the stuttering of your hips into the pillow meaning you were also close.

He kept watching you completely obsessed with everything he was seeing.

“Come on baby, come for me” he called and as if you’d heard him you were shaking, moaning and gasping into the other pillows while your hips drove down into the pillow riding out your high.

Max came watching that wet spot grow on your panties from the angle your currently were at. He couldn’t believe that this was only the begging of the night. And when you turned round pulling your underwear off and you went into the special draw by your shared bed, he knew you’d both be in for a long long night.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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wosospacegirl · 3 months ago

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Nice try - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia thinks buying Y/N clothes is a love language.

Word count: 1.9k

Y/n was on a mission.

A quiet, stealthy, slightly ridiculous mission that involved tiptoeing out of their house in a hoodie three sizes too big–Alexia’s, obviously–wearing the one pair of jeans she had left, which was now very much ripped across the knee and suspiciously breezy in the back.

She couldn’t let Alexia see her like this.

If Alexia so much as sensed that Y/n needed new clothes, she would materialise out of thin air with a platinum credit card and the entire spring collection of three different Spanish designers.

She had done it before. Alba had mentioned once that she liked a certain purse, and boom: three purses, delivered, and a casual “I thought this one looked better on you” from Alexia like she hadn’t just dropped €2,000 for fun.

So no. Y/n was not about to become the next victim.

She waited until Alexia left for training, counted five extra minutes–just in case she forgot her water bottle and came back, because that had happened before, too–, and then bolted.

Half an hour later, she was crouched behind a rack of trousers in a little boutique downtown, trying to decide between two identical pairs of black pants. Y/n could only afford one, and god forbid she buy two- otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to treat herself at the super overpriced coffee shop near her university."

She pulled out her phone to check her bank balance. She looked at the number and sighed. Maybe she could give some tutoring? She could make some extra money off of that.

Just as she was about to put her phone away, a text appeared.

Alexia: Where are you?

Y/n blinked. Hesitated.

Y/n: uni

Alexia: You don’t have any classes on Wednesdays.

Y/n: I do

That was weak. She knew it. Alexia definitely knew it.

Alexia: You left your location on, amor.

Y/n froze, eyes wide. Her thumb hovered uselessly above her screen. God, she was so bad at lying. She needed to delete Life360 or whatever tracker Alexia had installed under the guise of “safety.”

Then another text:

Alexia: I love buying things. Why didn’t you wait for me? I wanted to go too.

“Shit,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder like Alexia might already be walking in, designer sunglasses and euro bills in hand.

Y/n stood in the fitting room, staring at the two pairs of pants and two shirts draped over her arm like they weighed a thousand kilos.

It felt indulgent. Excessive. Reckless, even.

She’d been holding out for months–mending ripped seams, rotating the same three outfits, saying it was trying to create a minimalist approach to life–but now her last decent pair of pants had betrayed her with a dramatic rip, and here she was.

Four items. Four. Her chest tightened like she had just maxed out a credit card. It didn’t matter that they were basics or on sale…Just the idea of buying more than one thing made her skin crawl with guilt.

Alexia would’ve walked in and cleared a whole rack without blinking, but Y/n wasn’t like that. She could already hear her own voice in her head:

This is too much. You don’t need all this. Put one back. Put two back. Hell, put all of it back and make peace with your tragic wardrobe.

Still locked in that mental spiral, Y/n approached the register like she was walking into a courtroom, bracing for judgment. The cashier scanned the tags with a chirpy rhythm that made her stomach twist, and then, just as she reached for her card, he smiled brightly.

“Looks like you’re all set. Mrs. Putellas already paid for everything.”

Y/n stared at him like he’d just slapped her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, blinking slowly.

The man at the counter, mid-30s, smiley, clearly unaware of the emotional warfare he had just triggered, tilted his head.

“Mrs. Putellas has already paid.” He said louder, as if Yn didn’t hear him the first time. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Y/n’s right eye twitched.

“She what?” she asked, her voice flat, her soul leaving her body.

He grinned, still clearly thinking this was a romantic surprise moment.

“She paid remotely. It happens all the time- oh, and she left a note! Said to tell you ‘nice try, amor.’”

Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“I...” she muttered, absolutely seething. “Fuck Alexia.”

“Would you like me to pack it as a gift?” he offered weakly, now aware he may have stepped into a silent couple war.

Y/n took a deep, cleansing breath. Then she smiled, the type of smile that would have made Alexia very nervous had she been present.

“No,” Y/n said sweetly. “But do you sell running shoes? Mrs. Putellas gonna need them.”

Y/n didn’t slam the front door, but only because she knew Alexia had expensive taste in hinges.

Storming into the living room with her shopping bags like they were the physical manifestation of betrayal, she found Alexia exactly where she expected her to be: lounged on the sofa, one leg tucked under her, hair in a clip, and eyes glued to the TV where a replay of Barça’s last match played in glorious 4K.

Alexia barely glanced away from the screen as Y/n stepped in front of it, blocking the entire view.

Her response? A contented little sigh and the casual press of a warm hand to Y/n’s waist.

“Hola, amor,” she murmured, gently leaning over and kissing Y/n’s belly over her shirt. “Can you just take one tiny step to the side so I can see Patri’s goal again? It was so clean–”

“No,” Y/n said, not moving an inch. “Alexia. What the hell?”

Alexia blinked up at her, all wide-eyed and falsely innocent. “What?”

Y/n lifted a shopping bag and shook it gently. “How many times have I asked you not to buy me things?”

“I didn’t buy you anything,” Alexia replied, with the slow, smug calm of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. “I just paid for them. It’s different.”

Y/n gaped. “It’s not different!”

“It is in my heart.” Alexia gave her a cheeky smile and tugged gently at her waist to try and coax her aside. “Also, you picked them yourself. So technically, I just… assisted.”

“You hacked the store’s payment system.”

“I used Apple Pay.”

“Same thing,” Y/n muttered, flopping dramatically onto the sofa beside her, pout on her face.

Alexia leaned in, voice low and teasing. “You really think pouting is going to stop me?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re welcome, amor”

Y/n buried her face in a throw pillow to muffle the sound, leaving her body.

The game carried on, with Y/n begrudgingly sinking into the sofa next to Alexia.

Every now and then, Alexia’s eyes would flicker over to Y/n, a smug little grin tugging at her lips, especially when she could feel the weight of Y/n’s tension beside her.

But for the most part, they watched the game in comfortable silence–well, as comfortable as it could be with Y/n trying not to think about how Alexia had yet again spent her money on her.

As the final whistle blew and the game wrapped up, Y/n sighed deeply, finally leaning back into the sofa.

She didn’t look at Alexia, didn’t even glance at her. The silence was only broken when Alexia’s grin widened.

“Amor,” Alexia whispered, urging Y/n to sit on her lap, which she did.

Alexia’s hand naturally found its place at Y/n’s waist, then slowly moved up to her ribs, her thumb gently brushing over the soft fabric of Y/n’s shirt before it lingered on her breast.

Y/n gently took Alexia’s hand and placed it on her own lap, giving her a tired look. “No.”

Alexia’s grin faltered, her hand staying still on Y/n’s lap as she tilted her head in confusion.

“No? Por que?”

Y/n sighed, shifting to face her, a soft but serious look in her eyes.

“I don’t like it when you buy me things. I don’t want you throwing money at me like that. I don’t want you to do that, Alexia.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, brows knitting together as she reached out again, this time brushing a lock of hair from Y/n’s face.

“Amor, I don’t… I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I just love you, and I want you to be comfortable. To have things you like. To have what you deserve.”

Y/n looked at her, her chest tightening, feeling the warmth of Alexia’s hand on her face.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep doing this for me. I don’t need it. I just want you.”

Alexia leaned forward and kissed her–just a soft, grounding peck on the lips. Nothing flashy. Just presence.

“I hear you,” Alexia murmured as she pulled back slightly, eyes scanning Y/n’s face. “I will ease up on it”

“Ease up?”

“Yes,” Alexia nodded, ever-so-slightly proud. “I will not buy as many things.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Good.”

There was a beat of silence.

“But what if…” Alexia started, tone far too casual, “We settle on an amount of money?”

Y/n stared at her. “What?”

Alexia’s fingers danced lightly against Y/n’s side, like that might distract her. “Like, I’m allowed to spend up to a certain amount on you. Weekly.”

“…Are you giving yourself an allowance to spoil me?”

“Sí,” Alexia replied with a completely straight face.

Y/n groaned. “Alexia. That is not how allowances work.”

“It is now,” Alexia said brightly. “Like a budget. Very responsible.”

Y/n slumped forward and buried her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Alexia! How can you be so stubborn!”

“Not stubborn, just full of love,” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s temple.

Y/n didn’t move. “What’s the allowance, then?”

“€1000.”

Y/n pulled back, eyes wide. “That’s a weekly allowance?!”

Alexia shrugged, totally unfazed. “It used to be unlimited.”

Y/n stared at her in exhausted silence.

“Would you like to negotiate?” Alexia offered sweetly.

“I’d like to remove myself from this financial arrangement.”

“You can’t, mi amor. I used my allowance to buy exclusive rights.”

“Alexia.”

Alexia grinned. “I like spoiling you. Not my fault.”

“It’s totally your fault,” Y/n said deadpanned.

“You’re like…my spoiled puppy,” Alexia teased, gently cupping Y/n’s jaw.

“No. No puppies, no allowances, no—stop looking at me like that.” Y/n pointed an accusatory finger as Alexia batted her lashes and tilted her head.

“This is serious.” Y/n insisted. “You’re literally bribing me with clothes.”

“I’m investing in your happiness,” Alexia corrected smoothly.

Y/n squinted at her, voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to make you regret this.”

Alexia just smiled. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad, bebé.”

“You will regret this,” Y/n muttered as she stood, snatching one of the shopping bags. “Every time you see me wearing these, I want you to remember I almost bought them myself.”

Alexia watched her go, the proudest smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n turned back just long enough to glare. “And no sending me shoes to match!”

“I already pressed 'order,'” Alexia called sweetly.

Y/n’s groan could be heard from three rooms away.

Alexia just chuckled to herself, collapsing back onto the sofa.

“Worth every euro.”

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas

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mitsua · 4 months ago

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DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?

synopsis: a yandere who is a crybaby tries his best to maintain you now that you were kidnapped by him, but the moment he arrives home from work you notice his eyebags, and when he hears you call for him the first time, his whole self crumbles infront of you. (4.3k) warnings: love obsession, kidnapping, anxiety, depression, anger issues, self-harm, overworking, cursing, overthinking reader's gn a/n: literally my desired type of yandere... let me know what you think about it, i love reading your opinions!

he has kidnapped you weeks ago now, and ever since then, you have not spoke for the life of you. he even tried hearing anything you might get to say when you're all alone through the cameras he had installed for your arrival at his home, but to no avail—you haven't said anything.

he knew you might be struggling—he knew you would since the beginning—he knew you would take your time to get accostumed to this new and strange life with him, but had hopelessly thought it would be quicker and softer than whatever it's happening right now.

he knew you liked to talk yourself out whenever you were alone (or thought you were), so he didn't get it how were you standing so strong on your need to not say a word.

whenever he asks if you are hungry? if you're thirsty? cold? bored? you just look at him with those dull eyes of you, which of course had given him chills on more than one ocasion now, and he doesn't like that either—but what else can he do? he's in the edge of collapsing.

he's done everything he can to finish off work as quick as possible and try to spend more time by your side and see if something could change, expecting a miracle to happen so you'd be in a better mood and maybe finally telling him a simple yes or no when he asks if its ok to cuddle that night with you. he'd end up doing it whatever you say though—but maybe, just maybe, if you do use your voice to tell him not—he'd obey. he's got that desperate nowadays.

you got him going crazy, mind spiralling so much these days he can't focus on anything but trying to remember your voice and searching—thinking of anything that might get you to talk to him.

he's begged, he feels miserable admitting it, but he's gotten on his knees and pleaded you to voice at least one of your thoughts, to insult him or tell him how angry you feel with him—but none of that ever comes. he's left in tears, facing the floor with bruised fists of so much hitting the ground in desperation.

did you know what you were doing to him? he always thought you did, because if you didn't, you wouldn't deprive yourself so much in the sake of seeing him suffer—would you? he really hopes not, he already thinks you hate him enough but not to that extent.

weeks had turned into months and he's gotten promoted on his job to a higher rank without knowing why 'cause he's been more scattered than usual—whatever, now he's gotten a higher salary, he planned on spoiling you even more. he doesn't plan on hurting you to talk to him, no no, it's the other way around—he plans on making you the happiest ever to get to see you recover to your normal self—to smile at him.

however, as this new rank had its perks, it had its drawbacks as well. he wouldn't spend much time with you anymore and that got him thinking twice about signing the papers—but as his more depressed voice on his mind told him—if you aren't talking to him now, maybe if you miss him enough you'll do, and when he goes back home with lots of presents for you, you'll change your mind about this silent treatment nightmare.

yeah. he'd take the offer.

he didn't expect the work to be as insufferable as it has come to be, he's gotta deal with lots of clients a day while going in and out of meetings with some superiors while teaching juniors how to start with the business. to say he's going even crazier would be an understatement—he's losing his sanity.

however, something peculiar about him is that he doesn't like lashing out with the first person who makes him snap, no, he's a sensible man—a crybaby. he doesn't scream his lungs out when things aren't going his way, he doesn't grab by the collar a stupid costumer nor does he slap the shit out of those who take advantage of him because of this same reasons—he just cries, cries and hurts himself as he punches the walls that protect his dignity even by being all alone and letting all his feelings flow along his tears.

so he arrives home one of this tiring and stressing days—expecting you to be locked on your shared room, hugging your knees as close as possible to do not meet him in the eye—he expected everything to be as quiet, as cold and as dark as a cave.

he's been dealing all by himself the tasks of taking care of yourself, he's prepared some meals and had ordered take out every now and then as well, he's bought you some clothing and let you choose yourself via app to order some more or even things for hobbies he knew you had before taking you captive.

he knew the routine by now, and thinking about repeating it all over again day and day didn't bother him at all as long as he had you much than now.

he's wearing himself out for some dream he knew wasn't bound to happen until you'd let it—until you love him. until you love him too.

he was pretty confident on himself before kidnapping you it'd come to happen one day or another, but having been as long as it has already been, he's not sure anymore.

you weren't showing any signs of letting your guard down, of trusting him even a bit, nothing—you just looked so empty.

or that's what he thought at least.

when he'd first taken you from away from your life you were scared, angry, anxious and mostly, sad. you couldn't comprehend your thoughts as your mind raced miles per minute with everything that was happening at once.

there was this man who had come up with you and messily but sort of sweetly confessed his love to you, a very intense one as he let see. the next second—as you told him you didn't know him so you politely rejected his feelings—he was on you putting a cloth on your mouth and nose.

when you woke up, you were on a place you had never seen and the same man appeared and gave you a welcome—with a sheepish smile and looking like a teenager in love—told you to feel comfortable around here and to not be afraid to ask for anything, that he'd provide all your needs in the blink of an eye.

you were incredulous, you couldn't believe he was so devoted to you as to know each and every one of your likings, dislikes, hobbies, prefered music, everything. maybe he even knew you better than you knew yourself—it scared you.

how were you expected to respond to all that love bombing? you were scared and sad when he'd explained you wouldn't leave the house ever again, or atleast until he deemed it possible, as he still thought you would try to escape from him—and of course you agreed on your mind.

but you were that afraid of anything he might do that your body wouldn't obey you. you wanted to scream so loud but the only thing that ever came out were tears of frustration—tears holding the deep feelings you were holding from not talking for so long with someone else—even when he's been a "gentleman" and asked you to talk to him so many times.

you just wouldn't budge, sometimes because of the anger, some others because of fear and mostly nowadays because you were giving up your life altogether.

no one has come here, to wherever this house was. when he's turned on the tv there were no reports on missing people, you didn't have your phone either so you got no messages from family members or friends asking where were you or if you were ok, you missed all of that and wish you could matter some more to all of them to have already found you. but they hadn't—they weren't really looking that deep on anything for time to have passed so slow yet so fast that it'd already been half a year and there was nothing from them.

no one cared about you—or so you thought until you saw him one day arriving to the house looking so tired, with eyebags so marked and sluggish steps going straight to the bedroom to leave his suitcase and greet you as usual with the same sheepish smile and a kiss on your forehead. you thought no one cared about you—but as he then dragged his tired body to the kitchen to get started on making your favorite dish for the nth time on the month, you weren't so sure anymore.

you were starting to trust a little bit on him, but reprimanded yourself so hard on your mind that you were left exhausted mentally everyday with your dilemma.

you needed to distract yourself, you couldn't bear that all the things you were bottling up on your throat before they could even taste the tip of your tongue would always swirl around your mind and dreams to get turned on nightmares being awake or not so often now.

so you got up from the bed one day and took tiny and doubtfull steps to the kitchen after your kidnapper had left for work—not without giving you your forehead kiss of course.

upon arriving to your today's destiny, you put on the apron he's showed many times before to you telling you he bought specially for you for when you're on the mood of joining him to help on preparing the food for the day.

a smile crossed your features without knowing. it had a design of your favorite animal on a cartoonish style printed cutely on it.

you got a look around the shelfs and the refrigerator to mentally make a list about possible recipes you could get done with everything there is.

before living whatever the hell this all has been you see—even if you weren't so doted on it—you liked cooking. trying out recipes only you could mix up and to your contentment, the majority of your dishes would end up being to your family's and friends' liking.

you got absorbed on making a specific dish that your bad thoughts were all forgotten and replaced by the thought of seeing your plate finished and the smile of your captor when seeing it.

how would he react? would he be angry? suspicious of your sudden actions? there's no poison around here so there would be no need for him to worry about anything like that though...

you admitted you would feel a bit sad if he were to talk badly about your cooking skills, but still were adamant on trying to get it done, so persevered and as the clock hit the time he was supposed to get out of work as he's told you weeks ago for his new rank, you had plated two sets of your soup and main dish along a mini dessert at the sides.

you felt anxious—your stomach wasn't as hungry as you thought when you smelled the soup cooking up minutes ago, no—you were nervous.

as some time passed and the clock hit the next hour, you decided to take a shower to hopefully get the warm water to calm your racing heart and wild butterflies in your belly.

you put on some of the clothes you've chosen and accesories he's bought you that made you feel comfortable to turn on the tv and continue watching a movie.

however, you kept glancing the clock every five minutes approximately and grew even more anxious and disappointed when it had passed two hours since he was supposed to arrive.

he's has never begged so hard for earth to just swallow him up so many times before in a day but here he was. his boss had left on unannounced vacations for a whole month and dumped all his responsibilities on him while a new course had opened for recently graduated juniors to get experience on the area, and just when he thought it couldn't get worse—an important partner of the company had demanded a meeting with the same person missing for some stupid vacation on miami now of all times.

everytime he turned around at any room there would be a new person or a colleague asking him for favors, questions he's felt he's answered hundreds of times already, to sign so many papers he's not sure he's really doing his best to keep his signature the same 'cause his hand hurts so much. his feet are aching and his headache is doing nothing but making the day feel endless.

he wants to arrive home already—he wants to go with you even if you'd just look at your arms or knees instead of him—he's one hundred percent sure that'd be better than all this chaos.

he hadn't had the time to check out on you now that he thinks about it. but just as that thought occurs, another phone rings and he has to sit on a new chat with an angry client, slowly getting so overwhelmed with it that he forgets about checking the app on his phone that had become a salvation for moments like this—where he sees your every movement around his house, even if its not that much.

and just as he had thought—the workload wouldn't let him go rest at his designated time, no, it would prolong until two more hours later of suffering. he wanted to cry so bad now.

when the last colleague had left and the company's lights finally turned off, he almost felt his soul leave his body from relief.

he tried his best to grab his things and return home as quick as possible, but his swollen feet from all the walking around offices, dizzy mind and buzzing ears made it an impossible task. he stumbled upon every stone on his path to his car, almost crashed it and could be seen sleeping on every red light.

he wanted to be with you right on that instant so badly he swore he could die happily even if that was the last thing he did.

as he parked his car and as carefully and silently as he could opened the front door to do not wake you—he let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding all the way until here, closing his arms and trying to stretch his legs for the muscles to relax now that he's in a safe space.

when he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the turned on tv with the netflix warning reading "are you still watching?" for when a show had ended but no movement was made after some minutes. then, his eyes instantely fell on the back of your head resting on the couch of the living room. he took more steps in in the way of your bedroom to leave his suitcase as always—but the scene before it left him astonished.

the table was set up—cutlery placed neatly and deliciously looking food put on the bowls and plain dishes it made his mouth water almost instantly, but most importantly, his heart started beating fast and his cheeks reddened. soon, his eyes let out all his frustrations from the day into salty tears and broken sobs came from his dry throat and deeply overwhelmed mind and heart.

you had prepared it. you prepared all this for the two of you. the set for the other person accross the table was untouched which meant you hadn't eaten either. you were waiting for him too—you waited for him. to eat dinner—to eat dinner together.

he felt like he died and reborn once more. he wasn't taking it easy and dropped his suitcase without thinking the noise would startle you. his hands going straight to his eyes to stop his with his waterfalls and choke down his sobs.

you woke up startled by the noise of... him crying? oh no, he'd arrived and you've fallen asleep! he's already seen the surprise but maybe he hadn't like it? you felt terrible, your stomach dropping upon seeing him desperately rubbing his eyes and crumbling on the dining room's floor.

you got up and came behind him, taking into account that because of his loud crying he hadnt' noticed you. you got worried for him—just as you got worried all those times ago when he'd cry and beg for you to talk and look at him—you didn't like seeing him cry, but he wouldn't stop.

so you spoke.

"hey," something as simple as that but you did it. something you hadn't done for the almost seven months you've been trapped with someone you barely knew but had told you he'd fallen deeply in love with you—with someone who'd spent everyday since then showing you—his in fact—endless love for you.

he stopped his crying immediately, shoulders tensing and mind short-circuiting. did you just—did you just talk to him?

"i-i'm sorry if it's not of your liking, i-i just-i just thought about making dinner but never really asked for permission-i'm-i'm so sorry"—you rambled, now that you started speaking you couldn't really stop yourself anymore.

your mind now freely spoke everything it came to it, forgetting about the overthinking you did about the right moments or right words—you just did it.

he wasn't really reacting. how could he? he didn't know what to do or say—many things he's dreamed of had happened in the spawn of five minutes since he's arrived.

he turned slowly to face you, the light hitting him from the back didn't let his swollen red eyes and runny nose from all the crying be seen easily—but you could see his form shivering—he's holding his tears back now. just as you got surprised by the sudden recover of your voice, he also was.

so you spoke up again, but this time with your actions.

you took some steps closer to him—coming face to face with his chest as he was a lot taller than you—and wrapped your arms around him.

you were doing anything before thinking further on it, really. he started crying even harder this time. almost making you retract yourself but you didn't—you didn't want to let go.

he's proved you he would mantain you—he's given you some kind of freedom under his roof and brought you so many things that on your previous lifestyle you could only dream of. he's talked for the two of you all this time you were deprived of it—even if he felt bad about it—he never hurt you or said bad things to you. he encouraged you to, he really demonstrated he did all of what he did because of love.

and you've fallen for it.

now that he had everything he's asked for he couldn't react as he thought he would. he thought that whenever it was that you would hug him first, he'd instantely reciprocate the affection and drown you whole on it. he'd smother you with tons of kisses and tell you so many cheesy lines even he'd feel grossed out from them, but he wouldn't care 'cause you wouldn't care either, you'd be happy—happy together.

after some minutes of you holding him together on your arms as he sobbed out uncomprehensible lines and looked at you through blurry eyes, you ended the hug and unconsciously moved your hands to take place on both of his cheeks so sweetly—so carefully as he if he's made of porcelain—and stared into his eyes so deeply his knees got weak, your eyes were full of love—they were screaming it—he could hear it.

you've fallen for him—you've really done it.

you looked from his wide-puppy-like eyes to his lips as if asking permission for sealing this silent promise of eternal love you've sentenced upon the two of you since you hugged him.

he nodded his head a little and sucked in a breath as if preparing for what's to come. you reached closer—neither closing your eyes just yet until you connected your lips with his.

it felt as if the world stopped for seconds—it felt right—so damn right. he finally got rid of his frozen posture and placed one of his hands on behind your head and the other on your hips to pull you closer, while you focused on laying all your emotions for him on that kiss—that special and never-forgettable moment you'd just share.

you lasted some seconds more until he pulled away to look at you in the eye, look at you already looking at him—not like all those times in the past when he'd have to search for your eyes—you shared the same warmth as he's shared for you all this time until now, for him.

"i love you so much," his mouth let out, reciting it out in the open once again as he's done for so many nights on the past even if you didn't tell him anything.

but to his surprise, today you'd decided to reciprocate it. "i love you too."

four words, eleven vocal tones united to form four words that all come together meaning such a common yet powerful feeling humans feel for another—another human or thing, moment or memory—this being confessed only when seem proper, mostly when two people mean it, not without a risk of course—risk of losing it all but said with the confidence of it not happening. said with the hope it won't—hoping this love would flourish into something deeper and comfortable in many forms, the forms of a house, a family—an eternity together.

four words that made him remember why he's loved you so much and felt all his time spent on you was worth every single second.

"i'm so happy with you, i-i love you," he repeated, this time taking your hands on his bigger ones, and his smile so big that his teeth were showing and eyes almost closing resembling that of a child getting the latest toy they wanted.

you squeezed softly and started to walk without letting go, to the table—only doing so when you went to take out the chair for him to have a seat and gently indicating him so, picking up the cold plates and going to warm them up in the microwave.

he's eyes never left your form—just as when he'd watch you while doing paperwork through the cameras—he was and would always be infatuated with you. he felt so blessed in that moment and thanked whatever came to his mind for what was happening.

as much as he'd like to help you out right now—he just felt so tired and so enraptured with your movements that he stayed still until you returned with the food and placed it down again on its place, smiling softly at him and taking a seat too.

he took the first bite, already thinking it would taste delicious if it came from you, savoring it he noticed how wrong he was—it tasted heavenly. his face relaxed and he started eating faster, devoring everything as his now more than empty stomach begged for some food after the long hours he's spent without eating.

you took it as a good sign and felt relieved—finally digging in—you both finished fairly quickly and as you were about to wash the dishes, he came behind you saying, "let me get those done, you've already cooked for the both of us, it's the least i can do."

"no, you've just come from working, and if i decided to cook then i'm in charge of cleaning them too." you defended, taking the gloves and almost putting them on before he negotiated, "then what about doing them tomorrow, i'm so tired right now i'd like to just hug you all night." he smirked after seeing you ponder for a bit, he got you.

"fine... i'll-i''ll wake up early to clean them before you even think of doing so!" you claimed, taking off the gloves and tangling your arm around his, both of you walking to the bedroom.

"i'll undo the bed, you can go change," you offered, going up to it and starting to place the decorative pillows on the armchair next to the desk in the bedroom—where he'd often spend restless nights firstly figuring out his plan to get you, and when he'd gotten you—nights planning out how to get you to fall for him, now he's watching you place those pillows yourself, undoing the bed and taking place on it as if you were already a married couple.

he changed to his pajamas carelessly, tossing his uniform on his wardrobe and shoes long-forgotten somewhere on the carpeted floor of the dressing room that covered the whole bedroom as well.

he then let himself fall on the bed, arms looking out immediately for your body and wrapped gently yet tightly around you, taking a deep breath on the side of your neck and letting all his worries vanish from his mind by having you all to himself like this.

"good night," you whispered, hands going to play with his hair and caressing it softly as if petting a cat, he felt like he'd most definitely end up purring too.

"good night, my love."

PT. 2 HERE

here's my yandere OC's m.list if you wanna read more! remember you can ask to be tagged at any of the fandoms i write for ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

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tuesdayiminlove · 7 months ago

Text

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 1/3

where you’re just trying to make it through the day, and jamie thinks you’re his girlfriend (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

AN: hello i started this blog to post all of my writings that have been piling up! this has been sitting on my laptop for awhile, and i decided to post the first part to see how things go! lmk ur thoughts! btw this is not proofread oops

word count: 6k+

You think that the highlight of your day might be tending to your garden.

It started as a bit of a de-stressing-after-your-job hobby. At first, you found joy in coming home and taking time to water the flower beds at the front of your home, faithfully tending to them with the sole purpose of making the exterior of the house pretty for passerbyers. That soon turned into your father helping you install a window box at your bedroom window, so you can wake up to the site of blooming Zinnias. You meticulously started planting more flowers in your yard, and soon the vegetable garden (a neighborhood favorite).

Mrs. Dunphy from two houses down was the first person who inquired on the abundance of your radishes and carrots. Never one to turn down a request, you began to give her a generous amount of the vegetables you’ve grown. And she’s just too sweet of a woman, sometimes you will pick the best of your abundance to give.

And once word got around the street that you were giving away free, fresh vegetables, more people came running. Mr. Taylor suddenly was wondering about any spare tomatoes for the sandwiches and salads he makes when his grandkids visit. Stevie likes to snack on cucumbers, and she’s one of the very few people you know around the block your age, so of course you’re gonna chop a few when she comes over to watch shitty reality TV with you (and pack a few for her to take home, of course).

Your garden has become something to connect you with other members of your neighborhood in Richmond, thus making it a passion project of sorts. As well as a productive pastime—that might as well be a second job. You try to keep it a secret, but you’ve begun to talk to your plants. That one tip about how talking to plants is good for their health is pretty famous, right?

You’re quietly humming to the acoustic radio station you have playing on your speaker, meticulously chopping up onions for your soup. You like the recipe you're doing—it’s creamy and rich and you have most of the ingredients in either your cupboards, or your garden.

It’s one of those days where you’re off work early, and just looking forward to a day to yourself. It’s not abnormal for Stevie to come ringing the doorbell whenever she sees fit, but it’s a day where you know she’s going to be gone late for work. So unless you decide to call up one of your other friends, or maybe your parents, it’s just you. And you’d like to go that way: you’ve been waiting for a bit of a self-care day. Nothing can cure your stress like warm soup, some music, and the comfort of your home.

You open your fridge, spotting the array of tomatoes before picking one to use. Though, nearly immediately, your mind wanders off to something. Your eyes instinctually glance out your kitchen window at the house next-door, seeing it empty of the typical car.

A new neighbor had moved in recently next-door, and usually he’d be home by now. . . Is it weird that you know that? Maybe it’s a bit creepy. But, if you’re completely honest, you’re a bit hyper-aware of this neighbor. If it isn’t his status in England, it’s his wonderful personality. And if it isn’t his wonderful personality, it is the fact that he might be one of the most beautiful and fit people that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You remember the first time you met Jamie.

“You need help?”

Your shoulder jolted slightly, and you nearly dropped the soiled crate of peonies from your arms. It’s hard to startle you, mostly because you think you’re pretty hyper aware of your surroundings. You can easily spot the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Michelin, as well as their boisterous voices.

The voice that spoke, however, did not sound like a couple in their early-60s. You hadn't even heard the footsteps.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

You angled your hip around, adjusting the crate in your hands in a way that doesn’t hurt your fingers.

Immediately, it was easy to recognize that the man is Jamie Tartt: not only the man who had recently moved in next door, but also the known striker for Richmond’s own Premier League club. It’d be easy to mistake him for a regular guy, though, if his pajama pants and jumper couldn’t make him look any more average. His hair parts evenly down the center with concerned brows raised up to nearly the hairline.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, seeming to mistake your quiet observation of him as you still being scared as balls.

You huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“That’s my fault—no need to apologize.” He waits another beat before adding, “I’m Jamie. I just moved in next door. I kinda… saw you when I just walked out. Thought to introduce myself.”

You grin. “Trying to be on everyone’s good side?”

He returned your grin, looking less tense now that you had reciprocated the conversation. “‘Never had much of a good one to begin with in neighborhoods. I’m trying to change that.”

There was a beat of silence before you said your name, feeling surprisingly awkward in this situation. You’re by no means a social butterfly, but it’s hard to startle you—especially on your own home property. Every conversation approached to you has always been reciprocated evenly by you. If Mrs. Michelin from down the street wanted to tell a story of the old diner she owned, you did your work quietly while listening, chiming in when necessary. If Stephen from down the block wanted to stop by for tea and gossip (which you’ve never been into the gossip part of it), you sip your tea nonchalantly and ask engaging questions that won’t entirely give away your true opinion on the matter: Mr. Barnaby is rude? What makes you think that?

But for some reason, in the presence of your new neighbor, you found yourself quite speechless. Maybe it’s because Jamie is basically a celebrity. You had no doubt that he had millions of followers on every platform he ran—and the paps love him (she sees it on the news and papers).

That’s probably why.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, smiling. “Welcome! Everyone around here is pretty nice, but you can make those conclusions yourself when they inevitably pay you a visit.”

“Is it a tight-knit group around here?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded. “Quite. A lot of them come over sometimes to get veggies, and they seem to know about each other’s lives well.”

His smile turned into a full-grown grin. Immediately, you were desperate to know which words you said elicited that smile, so that you could say the same thing over and over again.

“You sell veggies?”

You shook your head. “I just grow them for everyone!”

In the next few minutes, you’re setting an arrangement to give Jamie a crate of carrots for his morning smoothies. You hide the giddiness you felt from the possibilities of seeing him again.

You’re placing onions into a pot on the stove, mind now away from your neighbor’s whereabouts, when your phone rings. You toss the chopped onions into the sizzling pot before picking up your phone and placing it between your ear and shoulder.

“Hello?” you say cheerily. It’s been a decent day and you’re about to make your favorite dish, so you’re in a good mood. You balance the phone in between your ear and shoulder and you go back to tend to your uncut tomato.

A lady on the other end—in a voice that seems quite familiar, but you’re still unsure of—says your name questioningly, in an almost frantic manner that has you furrowing your brows.

Placing your cutting knife down, you wipe your hand on a rag before holding your phone directly to your ear for more support. “Yes?”

“Um—I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to deliver this news to you, especially since we’ve never spoken before… which surprises quite a bit…” the woman’s voice on the other line trails off, leaving you more confused. Setting your knife down, you lean a bit closer to the phone. “But, Jamie’s in the hospital. He’s hit his head.”

Jamie? Your next-door neighbor Jamie? Premier League Jamie? The one you were just thinking about? “Tartt?”

“Yes,” the woman replies, “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know why the woman is apologizing to you. Jamie’s the one who’s hit his head! It’s still confusing as to why you’re the person who received the call, but concern immediately seeps into your bones at the thought of someone so lovely not being alright.

“No, no. I-It’s okay. Is he alright?”

“He’s got a concussion. It’s quite bad, but not horrible. I’m sure the doctor can explain what’s wrong better than I can. Do you think you can come right now? He’s been asking for you nonstop.”

You frown confusingly. “Me? Are you sure?” You and Jamie are far from strangers, and maybe more than just acquaintances. Sometimes you give the man carrots, that’s basically friend status. But you both are definitely not close enough for him to ask for you after being concussed. He should be asking for a parent, or a relative, or just anyone who is much closer than you are to him.

The woman on the other end giggles. “I’m quite sure. He’s been yapping nonstop to see you—gave us your number and everything! I know this isn’t an ideal circumstance for his friends to meet you, but we really are a bit excited and curious to put a face to the name.”

What the hell has Jamie said about you?

“So,” the lady says on the phone, reminding you that she’s there, “are you able to come?”

You stare at the pot boiling on your stove.

“Send me the address.”

—

The second your eyes meet Jamie’s, his eyes soften until a smile goes over his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry…” your voice trails off, unsure of how to go about talking to him. Your body has barely entered the room in full, but the attention goes to you immediately. You feel the need to give a justified response for why your arrival has been so delayed (you didn’t even know this was happening until barely half an hour ago!). “I was cooking when I got the call, it all happened so suddenly. Are you alright?”

The smile remains on his face. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

There’s a pause in the room. All eyes seem to be on you as you stare back in shock at Jamie's words. A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone is awaiting your next response with surprised, curious eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, trying to ignore how your heart lurches at Jamie’s words. A sentence like that seems like something you would conjure up in the back of your mind during times you’d like to fantasize about Jamie. You try to push those thoughts aside, because he’s nothing more than your neighbor—possibly friend. A double meaning has to be coming from the sentence, and all you have to do is act cool so that no one will know how affected you are by this. “Am I supposed to be bringing him back to his home?”

The nurse looks down at his clipboard. “You’re his neighbor, correct? You know his address?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you should be fit to bring him home. Unless, you think it’ll be more reliable for someone else to? I know all of this must be stressful.”

You quickly shake your head. “Not stressful at all. I’m just trying to grasp why I was called here.” Surely Jamie had a family member to ring up, or even one of the people currently in the room, who seem to care about him very much. You walk closer to Jamie’s bedside to see if there are any damages to his face that you might’ve not been able to see from afar. Your heart beats at a less-rapid pace when you see that physically, he looks fine. He catches your eye with a smile as you look down at him.

Ted Lasso speaks up. You never thought you’d see him in the flesh, just a person on your television that you see when you eat dinner alone. “Well, Jamie here has been hassling us to see his lady since he’s been up. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name! ‘Been a long hour of wonderin’.”

Before you can even retort, like how you didn’t even know Jamie had a girlfriend (like why would you be here if Jamie wants to see his girlfriend—your heart sinks lightly at the thought, but it seems all too selfish to care about that when Jamie’s in a worrying predicament), the blonde girl speaks up.

“You know, I will say that I was mad hurt when I found out Jamie has a girlfriend and didn’t even tell us.”

Yeah, you think. He didn’t tell you, either.

A tall man grunts from beside her. “How long have you lot been going out, anyway?”

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide.

Jamie’s voice cuts through the room, “For Christ’s fucking sake, can you all stop bombarding her with questions?” He reaches out a small distance to grab your hand and pull you closer to his bedside, your hip now resting against the bed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Your mind freezes. You look down at your joint hands, then back to his face.

Surely this has to be some mistake. Jamie is telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not; if this is some sort of bit he wants to play on the very many people in this room that care about his well being. The only time you’ve gotten even close to touching Jamie was whenever his fingers would brush against yours to pick up a crate of carrots. You don’t even know what the inside of his house looks like! There are many facts about him that—though, you would like to know—you don’t know at all. And now he’s gone and told everybody that you’re dating!

The only thing you do know, is that you and Jamie have now got five pairs of eyes on you.

And they all think that you’re in a relationship.

“Jamie…” you say, tip-toeing through your next words to make sure you don’t say something that will put him into shock. “How hard did you hit your head?” His hand remains firmly in your own.

He pouts, turning to a man who’s sitting on a chair in the corner. He’s pouting guiltily, still in his Richmond kit with dirt on his knee pads.

“Pretty fucking hard,” the man mumbles. His fingers are fidgeting, and you recognize him as Richmond’s captain—Isaac.

The nurse standing by you nods. “Essentially,” he says, shrugging.

“Like—extremely hard?”

The nurse sighs. “I’m surprised it’s just a concussion. But nothing seems to be truly wrong; the X-rays would’ve shown.”

(Clearly something more than a concussion must have happened for Jamie to believe that you’re his girlfriend!)

“Are there any medications, protocol that we should be aware of, Nurse?” Ted chimes in, leaning closer to the center of the room.

“Recommended actions will be included in his discharge papers. I would say wait a day or two before taking any pain medication. Avoid bright lights, like the telly or your phone. I suggest wearing sunglasses outdoors—though I don’t think that’d be any different than usual. Other than that, I think you will heal just fine. But until then, it looks like your girlfriend has to be your nurse for a bit.”

You choke up again at the mention of that term, a dry cough riding up your throat. Eyes snap towards you, concern immediately filling each iris.

“Love,” says Jamie, voice in clear pain over his misinterpretation of your emotions. “I’m going to be okay. I always get better. You know that.”

No, you wanted to say, I don’t know that. You wanted to close your eyes and count to ten—meditate maybe, and think of your next moves. You wanted to be back home, stirring broth in a pot instead of getting tangled up in a fiasco that you’re ill-equipped for.

Unfortunately, none of those are an option for you. And, as you look at Jamie in his hospital gown, your heart constricts. Something plucks a small melody on your heartstrings as you stare into his glazed and hopeful eyes. Hopeful for you.

You try to give your best smile. One that says, it’s going to be okay. If you worry, it’s clear Jamie will worry. It’s obvious by his expression that his sole focus at the moment is you.

You’re not sure how convincing the smile is. You feel like a fraud, pretending to be something for Jamie that you’re clearly not. You’re far from being his girlfriend, or even someone Jamie could fancy if his head hadn’t been so fucked up.

But maybe, though, the smile is convincing enough: his face is elated at your positive acknowledgement towards him.

“Fucking gross.”

Your body snaps around, yet again acutely aware of the presence of multiple bodies around you, all looking at you and Jamie the same: confusion mixed with wonder (or disgust). It’s clear, though, that the voice had come from Roy Kent himself.

(He’s known for these things, you guess.)

Frowning, you turn back to Jamie.

“Oi,” snaps Jamie, eyes shifting gloweringly to Roy. “She hasn’t got a clue of your attitude yet. Pipe down.”

Not wanting to upset Roy Kent, you shake your head vigorously. “Don't even worry. I’m just a little caught off guard at the moment.” You clear your throat, “Um… do you suppose I can speak to the doctor quickly?”

“Doctor!” says Ted loud and eccentrically, no doubt in hopes that his obnoxious manner would lighten the mood. “Let her see the doctor!”

“Get the fucking doctor here!” says Keeley to the nurse, who merely sputters in return.

“I-I’ll fetch her right now.”

It only takes a minute for a woman to peek her head through the door. “I heard I am needed.”

Roy groans, and she smirks at him like they both know something that not many get.

“Jamie’s lovely lady wants to have a word with you,” says Ted with a grin when you take a beat too long to reply for yourself.

She turns her head to you, and you nod.

“Yes,” you say. Prying your hand gently from Jamie’s, you follow the doctor. “I’ll be back,” you add softly.

Once the door is closed behind you two, a large and panicked breath releases from your lips. You finally get to feel how clammy your hands have gotten. “Listen, Doctor…” you look at her quizzically.

“—Doctor O’Sullivan,” she says.

“O’Sullivan. Thank you.: You breathe in. “I’m not very sure how to say this, but I’m really fucking confused at the moment. Kind of freaking out confused.”

The woman in front of you doesn’t hesitate to place a comforting hand on your elbow. “Is everything alright? Roy had said you were Jamie’s girlfriend; I know how hard this could be on—“

“--That’s the problem!” you can’t help but interrupt, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. I’m just his neighbor! I’m not sure how him banging his head led me to believe otherwise, but—but I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor stares back at you, mouth agape.

“Yeah,” you sympathize, nodding your head. “I know.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Um,” she begins, “out of all things you could’ve said… I wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth.”

You nod frantically, your voice going down to a worried whisper. “Is his head—like—okay? I’m worried that if he’s remembering stuff that isn’t true, then something may be very wrong with his brain, or whatever part he hit.”

Dr. O’Sullivan sighs, looking down at her clipboard before jotting something down. “Memory loss… things like that tend to happen with the concussion he has. I would be far more concerned if the X-rays showed any trauma, but he truly does seem to be fine. My guess is his memory will come back—maybe slowly, but it will certainly recollect.”

“But do I tell him now?” you ask, in a minor panic. If someone this morning had told you that your neighbor (the one you have been minorly crushing on, mind you) would suffer from a concussion that rendered him thinking you two are in an established relationship… well, you probably wouldn’t know what to say in that situation. But this certainly hadn’t even been in your mind for unexpected things that could possibly happen.

“My recommendation right now would be no; don’t startle him. His concussion has only just occurred, and it’s best not to confuse him even more. The first and most important goal is to get him back home to rest. Just check in on your comfortability as you go through this, okay? I’ll give you my personal cell, in case you have any dire questions.” She writes down her number on a piece of paper before ripping it off and handing it to you.

You neatly tuck it into your pocket, nervously smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies with a more assured smile compared to yours. She rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “I mean it when I say reach out. This will be difficult to navigate.”

You nod, giving her one last look before you re-enter the room apprehensively. It’s quiet when the door creeks and all eyes are on you, as if wanting to observe your next move. In the array of eyes, Jamie is looking at you with an expectant look, a large smile on his lips as you fidget with the rings on your finger awkwardly. You want to run out of the room, but you remember Dr. O’Sullivan’s words: Don't startle him.

“Jamie,” your voice is hoarse. The entire group leans a little closer at the sound of your voice, awaiting your next words. You clear your throat. “I’m very worried about you.”

His smile dims. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I should’ve been more careful.”

Everyone else in shock by his quick admission to his wrongdoings, Isaac stands up suddenly. “It’s my fault, bruv. Your girl should be mad at me.” He bows his head ashamedly. “I’m so sorry.”

You frown, shaking. “I think everyone in the room can agree that none of this is intentional.” You look around the room for confirmation. “Right?”

“Jamie’s lady is right!” says Ted. And then, “—wait, does me referring to you at Jamie’s lady dehumanize you? I apologize on my behalf. You are your own woman!”

That manages a small laugh from you. It’s clear Ted’s good-naturedness isn’t just a personality created in the papers. “I’m feeling perfectly humanized, thank you. I don’t blame anyone, I’m just glad you’re okay, Jamie. But I’m very worried. You don’t … seem the best.” You think that we are dating, when all I do is give you fresh veggies. “I want you to get better.” I want you to get your own memories back, because this fabrication in your head is extremely, medically concerning. “But it could be worse!” you add at the end. You could’ve forgotten your own identity, so there’s that!

The room is silent.

“I don’t know about y’all,” begins Ted. “But I’m lovin’ the element of concern with added positivity! You’re right, it could’ve been worse! Jamie could be dead.”

“Too much, Ted,” says Rebecca softly.

Roy grunts. “I thought that was a wonderful, brief visual.”

Jamie’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, man?”

The older man grunts, angrier. “I said brief.”

You can’t tell if his comments are a joke or not.

Jamie, appearing to sense your uncomfortableness, is quick to reply, “Oi! What did I say about her not knowing your fucking attitude?”

“It’s okay!” you squeak, not wanting to create more problems in the room. “Let’s focus on getting you home first.” Don't startle him. You need to ease Jamie into any shocks that he might face. You don’t know if there’s anything else Jamie might have misconstrued due to his concussion. For all you know, the poor guy might forget another giant aspect of his life. He needs to rest. “Did you lot by chance take his car here?”

Keeley nods quickly. “I drove it from the stadium. It’s parked out front.”

“Perfect,” you say, turning back to the man of the hour. “Jamie, is it okay if she drives it back to yours?”

“As long as I get to ride with you.”

Your heart rate strikes at his reply. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. “Good with me. Let’s get you home.”

The arrangement to take him home is simple enough, maybe even the easiest thing you have had to face since arriving. Jamie had already signed his discharge papers, and was free to walk on his own. He manages to look normal enough, but it’s a unanimous agreement for him to not drive on his own. Keeley is off to drive Jamie’s car back to his place, already knowing his new address. He bids goodbye to the rest of the group, and they offer their own forms of condolences (Roy’s is just a grunt).

“It’s a pleasure meeting you!” says Ted. “You’re gonna have to stop by Nelson Road sometime. You know, introduce you to the rest of the team.”

You fight a frown, because you shouldn’t. You probably won’t. But, hating to be rude to Ted, you reciprocate his hospitality with a warm smile. “I appreciate that. It was wonderful to meet everyone, even in these circumstances. I’m glad that Jamie is in the right hands.”

Ted nods solemnly. “Always. Now, go take care of that son of a gun!”

—

“Don't ever think I’ve ever been in your car before,” mumbles Jamie sadly. You’ve never been in my car. Or my home. Nor have I ever been to yours.

You fight the thoughts running through your head, about to comment on his dejectedness, when you remember what Dr. O’Sullivan had said about Jamie avoiding sunlight. “Wait!” You open your glove compartment, shuffling through the various coins and junk inside until you find what you’ve been looking for.

The sunglasses may not be what Jamie prefers. They belong to your younger cousin, Jolie. Sometimes you’re tasked with picking her up from school when your aunts can’t. Along with the task of picking her up and babysitting the six-year-old for a few hours, you often find things that she had left behind, or forgotten. You keep the hot pink cat-eye sunglasses for whenever she’s in your car and wants to put them on (they make her feel older). They may be a little small on Jamie, but you don’t care. His concussion is going to be treated attentively on your watch, whether he is okay with that or not. It’s the least you feel that you can do, considering roleplaying as his girlfriend isn’t exactly ideal.

“Here you are!” you happily exclaim, unfolding the sunglasses, putting them on by yourself before he can get a chance to protest.

The thing is, you truly don’t know what Jamie is like. You’ve had multiple interactions, but all so surface-level that it’s hard to tell if it’s a front he’s put up or not. For all you know—and for what you expect—he’ll take the sunglasses off and question why he has to wear that pair (toxic masculinity, and all that bullshit that you’re accustomed to from men).

To your surprise, he doesn’t even make a move to adjust them. Instead, he moves the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. You giggle lightly as he moves his face around to observe his look.

The sound makes him smile. “I look good. These mine now?”

You scoff. “They’re Jolie's, don't even think about it,” you reply starkly, not even thinking about the fact that he doesn’t know who Jolie is.

For Jamie, however, that appears to be the first thing he thinks about. Because there’s a moment-long pause, and it feels very thick, before he replies, “Jolie?”

“Oh—my cousin,” you say plainly. You begin to pull out of your spot, checking your side mirror to see if any cars are coming by.

You might’ve been driving for a minute, silently. You aren’t sure what to say because, again, this is not the type of interaction with Jamie that you’re used to. Besides, you figure that maybe the silence will be good since Jamie has spent god-knows how long in absolute worry and chaos. Your mind goes back to the soup on your stove. You had turned the heat off, and placed the lid on your pot to finish when you get home.

Jamie is the first to break the silence. He says your name slowly, almost embarrassingly.

You furrow your brows at his tone, giving him a quick glance before laying your eyes back on the road. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Am I—“ he clears his throat, “Am I supposed to know about Jolie? Have we spoken about her before? I just don’t remember anything about her.”

You’re in shock for a moment, not expecting that question to come from him.

You realize, at this moment, the weight of Jamie’s concussion. Not only is it going to be physically taxing for him to avoid doing certain things until he’s better, but the mental toll of feeling like he doesn’t remember things will also certainly pain him. He thinks that the two of you are together—meaning he expects himself to know aspects about your life that you two had never discussed before.

Not only is Jamie a blank slate to you, but you are to him.

The only problem is he thinks that the blank slate is wrong.

“I’ve never spoken of her before, Jamie,” you say softly.

You hear him exhale.

“You don’t need to worry about forgetting, okay?” you add. “If I’m very concerned by anything you don’t seem to remember, I’ll be sure to tell you. And I’m sure everyone at work will do the same, as well.” You take a left turn, following the GPS on your phone back to your neighborhood.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. Patiently.”

A less-tense silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive. Jamie has his head leaning against the passenger window. You don’t need to see under the glasses to know that his eyes are shut, likely to gain as much rest as possible.

When you finally arrive back at your neighboring homes, Keeley is already sitting on the steps that lead to Jamie’s door, his car parked perfectly in his usual spot.

After parking as close to Jamie's home as possible (you’ll fix your spot later), you move to open his passenger door, but he gets out by himself. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you off the edge of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Keeley smiles softly at the pair in front of her, extending her hands to give you Jamie’s set of keys. “Hey, guys!”

You smile back, quietly using the keys she just handed you to unlock Jamie’s front door while the two converse behind you on his current state. She worriedly asks him how his head feels, to which Jamie gives a very detailed explanation on how it feels like a giant is squeezing around his head with a pressure that can pop his brains out.

“Gross,” mumbles Keeley. “Please go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jamie, “that’s what everyone’s telling me. Thanks for bringing me car, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. My payment requirement is—sorry to jam it—get some fucking rest.” She stands by the doorway as you and Jamie enter his house. “Roy’s a couple of minutes away. I’m gonna wait out here and contemplate stealing those peonies from that house down there.”

You pause. “… That’s my place.”

“Oh shit! My bad, babe. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything.”

You laugh. “Please, go ahead if you would like. I’ve been told it’s practically a forest.”

She laughs. “Maybe next time. Stay safe, yeah?” She’s walking down the steps as you both bid her a goodbye.

You smile up at Jamie as he guides you further down his hallway, and into the kitchen. He immediately goes into his fridge to pull out some water, chugging it down.

You stand in your spot awkwardly, watching as Jamie pulls the sunglasses further up when his head finally levels from drinking. “...Um, if you don’t need anything else, do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” you ask. You feel better now that Jamie is in the comfort of his own home. “I had food on the stove, and wanted to finish it up. I’ll have a bowl for you as well, if you’d like.” You already make a plan in your head to put it in an isolated thermos to leave on his doorstep so that he can still access it and have his alone time.

“But you’ll be back, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the thing he’s most sure of.

You smile. “Then I’ll be back,” you reply, mind scrapping the doorstep plan. “With creamy vegetable soup.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says. He closes the fridge and makes his way to you.

You don’t know what you’re expecting… maybe a hug at most.

But your eyes shoot up as Jamie leans down, his lips puckering slightly as his face inches closer to yours.

You instinctively place your hand on his chest, quickly stopping him from going any further. “Woah, wait.”

Jamie pulls back further immediately, his brows furrowing from above the pink sunglasses he wears. If this were any other situation, you’d find his look comical.

“What’s wrong, love?” he says so sweetly that you may feel sick, if the nickname isn’t enough to nearly make you faint. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly.

You try your best to conjure up words for this situation, as well as trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the soft ministrations on your shoulder. “It’s just—we’re moving too fast. You’re moving too fast.”

“Huh?” replies Jamie quizzically, “Do we not… kiss?” When your eyes hold more panic, he makes the conclusion for himself. “So, we’re dating and we’ve never kissed? Am I a fucking idiot?” The last part is mostly to himself, and you backtrack immediately, rewiring your brain into thinking of a half decent explanation.

“I mean… I don’t know. I just feel bad,” you say. “You have a concussion and don’t remember some things. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and make you do things that you might regret.”

Jamie frowns. “Why would I regret kissing you?”

You wince, making the edges of his lips turn down even more.

He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...Would it make you uncomfortable? If I kissed you?”

“It—�� you think about it for a moment. You don’t think kissing Jamie would make you uncomfortable at all. It is something you fantasize about, but only when you’re alone. And not under these circumstances. So, you reply truthfully, “I think it would,” because you just can’t find it in you to physically reciprocate affection that was never properly established in the first place.

“Is it because I don’t remember our first kiss?”

There never was one. “… Yeah.”

Jamie looks off before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do everything in my power to remember,” he says surely.

Well, shit. It’s going to be very hard for Jamie to try and remember something that never even happened. You wonder now if you should just alleviate the guilt right now, and break the truth to him: you have never dated, nor even kissed once. Maybe the interactions you’ve had with him when handing over a batch of carrots seemed delusionally romantic in your mind, that’s not how it went at all.

There’s a feeling in you that makes you want to take care of Jamie and make sure that he’s okay. The thought of abandoning him now feels almost cruel, he clearly trusts you enough to keep you around.

Normally, this would be no issue.

But with what you know, a heavy weight fills your chest.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso imagine

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sugaredrhubarb · 9 months ago

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A QUICK GUIDE TO AO3 CUSTOMIZATION FROM SOMEONE WHO KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT CODING

ft adding pink to everything and my secret to writing long comments

note: I originally posted this to twt but if that place burns in a fiery pit I spent too long on this for it to disappear, so I'm putting it here too :)

so many people know way more about this than I do, but this is a step-by-step walkthrough of the changes *I've* made, and hopefully it works as an introduction people can build from for whatever they'd like to do

There are a lot of images in this post! (click to enlarge)

to start, AO3 skins

site skins change how the AO3 website appears when logged in (even on mobile), mine is pink and blue!

I'll have my skin turned off throughout the post so the guides appear as they will for you

to create, edit, and view skins, go to the "skins" tab from the left-hand menu. you can also view public site skins from there or from the button in the preferences.

public site skins are made by other users. i would really encourage previewing and exploring them to become familiar with the possibilities (maybe you just want to use one of them and now you're done!)

to create your own skin

on the skins page, click "create site skin"

if you don't know CSS (same), use the wizard! clicking on the "?" will give more information about each option

I only use the colours section you'll see a link right there for hex codes I use pink as a header colour and bue for accent but lots of people change the background colour and that looks really cool!

submit

The next step (optional!!!) is to add CSS from a public skin to your own. I use "ByLine" by Branch. this separates the tag categories and adds spacing to make them easier to read.

here is a before and after using the fic "Landslide" by @roosterbruiser as an example

to see the CSS of a skin, click the title

copy all the text below the CSS heading

in the skin creator/editor press the custom CSS option and paste all the text into the CSS box

you can have both wizard and custom CSS settings, in mine you can see the header and accent colours as well as the CSS

level up: USERSCRIPTS

userscripts are small pieces of code that modify a website. for AO3, this may involve adding shortcuts and buttons or even advanced tagging functions (computer people, I'm so sorry if this is wrong, I'm trying). I use Greasy Fork and Tampermonkey.

This is how I write long and formatted comments!

Greasy Fork is an archive of userscripts and Tampermonkey is a browser extension and userscript manager. You don't need to use these two in particular. please use your common sense when downloading anything or adding permissions to your browser.

Greasy Fork guide on installing scripts

Install Tampermonkey on Chrome

there are TONS of user scripts for AO3. This is another good opportunity to explore all the possibilities. there are lots of more complicated options I haven't explored.

scripts for AO3

i use this floaty review box

and this comment formatting

EDIT: if you use chrome you might need to turn on developer mode in your chrome extension manager - you can google "tampermonkey developer mode" and it should explain that :)

to install (once you have Tampermonkey installed):

open the script you want in Greasy Fork and press install

Tampermonkey will open, press install again

clicking the Tampermonkey extension will let you toggle scripts on and off, and opening the dashboard will let you view, edit, and delete scripts

i find i can only have a few turned on at a time before they cancel each other out, but that depends on which ones you're using and someone more savvy might be able to fix that

how to use the floaty review box - write more comments!

there will now be a "floaty review box" button at the top of the work, it will open a floating text box you can move anywhere on the page. highlighting any text and pressing the insert button will paste the text with italics into the box

anything you type in the review box will appear in your comment at the bottom of the page!

if you have also installed the comment formatting script, you'll be able to highlight any text in your comment and use the new buttons above the comment box to format it

thats all ive got! Hopefully this is a good starting point to get familiar with some of the terms and basics for skins and scripts <3

if you want some inspo for how to comment on fics i made a whole fic rec list on twitter based on comments I've left, it's here. i have a masterlist of recs there mostly for darklina/reylo and similar ships.

the tag #reading with ru has cod recs and me talking about books

#please no one follow me from this im never helpful otherwise #ao3 skins #ao3 #fanfic #ao3 community #fandom #ao3 resources #im sorry if the image quality is awful lmk if I should clarify any of the text!#floating comment box #floating review box #ao3 guide

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miabebe · 5 months ago

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My Girlfriend Faked Her Amnesia (Wen Junhui)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 4

It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?

Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader

Word Count- 29k

Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting

A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :) To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)

Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!

The End: 27th December 2024

"Careful!"

You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.

Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close.

The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.

You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.

Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word.

That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent.

Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart.

You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you.

Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car.

"Are you feeling cold?"

See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more.

"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up.

“And what did you say?”

You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?”

His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?”

“And looking at us, who will buy that?”

Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.

The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.

Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-”

“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?”

“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”

You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”

“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”

“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”

“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”

“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?”

Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”

“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”

“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”

“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”

“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-”

“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”

“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”

You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.

You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion.

This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it.

“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.

“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”

“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.”

It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right?

You weren’t regretting this, were you?

He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.”

Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it.

Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met?

“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes.

Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-

“Careful!”

Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough.

As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow.

Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

The Afterlife: 31st December 2024

Pain.

Unbearable pain.

That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain.

Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running.

Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either.

All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without.

Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....

Jun.

Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you.

It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods.

He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward.

Instead, you took a step back.

Then another one.

Then another.

Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him.

Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain.

When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him.

Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters.

As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.

The Awakening: 27th January 2025

The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.

Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him.

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……

“Y/n…”

The argument.

The crash.

The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.

“Sir, please don’t-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”

He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”

“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”

Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?”

“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.”

Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance.

Alone?

“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…”

“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”

Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”

“S-she didn’t make it-”

“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”

“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”

“What you’re saying is not possible-”

“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”

“I don’t care, I need to find her-”

“You can’t leave.”

“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly.

Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear.

“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.”

Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut.

28th January 2025

“Let me go.”

The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again.

The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained.

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”

“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.”

Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”

“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?”

“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”

“What about Y/n?”

Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.”

“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?”

“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.”

Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-”

“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-”

“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.”

Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.

“Open them!”

“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.”

Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark.

31st January 2025

“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.”

Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill.

“Do you remember anyone else’s number?”

Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”

“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him.

“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”

When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere.

Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream.

“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.”

“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.”

She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out.

Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso.

The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.

“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.”

Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe.

So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more.

He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too.

But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you.

There was no life without you.

The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.

At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you.

So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way….

Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside.

You.

There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right?

But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf.

As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before.

Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile.

“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?”

“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.

“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?”

Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood.

Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him.

Maybe…. this wasn’t you.

“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?”

Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again.

It was you. There was no doubt it was you.

And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Excuse me?! Sir-”

“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”

“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked.

All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you.

“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.”

Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-”

“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”

“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?”

“Most definitely.”

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?

Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind.

“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”

“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”

“Jun!”

At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t say a word.”

“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?”

“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.”

“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.”

“Y/n what-”

“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.”

“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.”

With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused.

“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist.

“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”

“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.”

Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way.

“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”

Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t remember��.” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.”

The throbbing pain was back.

Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere.

Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told.

“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?”

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”

The procedure.

Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories.

Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth.

That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind.

“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”

Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him.

“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”

“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”

“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”

Minghao's words rang in his ears.

10 years….

Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.

The night of the accident…. that's what he had said.

Oh god, was that why you….

What had he done?

“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”

“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”

“Mean what?”

Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring.

“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”

“How exactly-”

“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”

“Jun no-”

“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”

“That’s not-”

“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-”

“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”

It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”

Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.”

Jun stared at the photo in his hand.

Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup.

Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.

Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears.

“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.”

Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that?

He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it?

But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore.

You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm.

Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too.

1st February 2025

“Where do I put this?”

Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms.

“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”

“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.”

Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.”

Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira.

Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories.

“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-”

“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”

For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all.

But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really?

And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour.

“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.”

As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands.

“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-”

“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”

Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then?

All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet.

Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.”

“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.”

Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”

Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday.

“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”

Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly.

“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.”

Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.”

“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”

“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.”

“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”

Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.”

“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out.

“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.”

“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.”

“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.”

“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?”

“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.”

“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”

“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”

Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.

“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.”

Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house.

“We should probably continue with the packing.”

Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.

And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed.

“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-”

“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.”

Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving.

“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.”

And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.

He just needed some time. That’s all.

Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't.

Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life.

Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking.

He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you.

Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way.

But the universe said otherwise.

If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box.

At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together.

You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years.

Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years.

Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault.

Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong.

His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose.

He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again.

Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again.

2nd February 2025

Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold.

One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie.

“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?”

Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.

“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”

“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.”

You glared at him, eyes narrowed.

“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”

“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.”

“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”

Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him.

“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”

“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.”

The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk.

Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you.

“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”

You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.”

You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him.

“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….”

Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile.

“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.”

Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile.

“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.”

Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.”

Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you.

“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.”

3rd February 2025

“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.”

Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face.

“What makes you say that?”

“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.”

Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.”

“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.”

“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?”

Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now.

“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.”

You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’

“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused.

“How else will I be able to share a table with you?”

Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?”

“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.”

“I’m working.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I only get off at 5.”

“I’ll wait.”

“And then I need to head straight home.”

“I just need 10 minutes.”

You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him.

“They’re on the house.”

And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter.

“Do you need any help?”

You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired.

“I have staff Mr. Jun.”

“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.”

“Huh.” You frowned. “She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.”

Jun remained silent, looking away.

“You paid her.”

“I was just helping her go home fast.”

Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?”

“I told you, a conversation.”

“Well that’s what we’re having right?”

“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up.

“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”

“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything.

“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….”

Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink.

“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.”

“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night. Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction.

“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”

“Don’t.”

And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.

“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”

“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”

“Sorry?”

“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…”

“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.”

“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-”

“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”

We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n.

“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.”

“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?”

Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him.

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”

And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….

No.

Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.

“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.”

And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly.

“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?”

“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?”

“Not really, no.”

Bingo.

“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.”

“Jun I…”

“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.”

“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?”

Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”

“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?"

“It won’t come to that-”

“If it does.”

“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.”

And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day, we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?”

Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.”

“And you’re sure this will work?”

Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.

“Positive.”

“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.”

Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.”

“And what if it still doesn’t work?”

“I don’t want to consider that possibility.”

“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?”

Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.

“I have no idea.” He confessed.

“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”

“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”

“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”

“-and she knew I like malatang-”

“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”

“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.”

This time Minghao went silent.

“Nothing snarky to say?”

When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up.

“Hao do you think she… remembered?”

“That’s not possible....”

"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.

Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."

"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"

"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit."

"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"

Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.

"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"

"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"

"I cannot promise that-"

"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."

"How-"

Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.

Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.

And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again.

You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.

You look so happy,....he looks so happy.

Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you.

Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away.

“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.”

A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3

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