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fushitoru · 6 months ago

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chapter 2: the aftermath a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

a/n some parts of this chapter broke my brain to write but i kind of had fun! as always thank you to @/sinn-claire for beta reading :p i was going to say i'll try to have weekly updates but i don't want to jinx it lol

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

It appears that Her Majesty has bestowed the coveted title of this season’s Diamond upon none other than Miss Itadori, who has indeed lived up to her newfound acclaim as the incomparable of the year. At the latest ball, our shining Diamond was quite occupied, with suitors lining up in such numbers that one might have thought them to be queuing for the royal throne itself. Furthermore, blooms were budding between many of the debutantes and gentlemen, including…..

...Yet, one particular couple captivated the attention of all: none other than Mister Satoru Gojo and our season’s Diamond. After having kept his words sparse and his attentions limited to none, Mister Gojo appeared utterly taken with Miss Itadori, conversing with her intimately on the dance floor. It seems your humble Author was indeed correct⸺Mister Gojo has entered the marriage market. However, the exclusivity he has adopted may not deter the determined maidens he seeks to avoid, for the Ambitious Mamas will no doubt perceive his selectiveness as a challenge to be overcome.

One cannot help but wonder if an announcement of particular interest will be made at the upcoming Gojo country house party. Although your Author has not yet laid eyes upon the guest list for the Duchess Gojo’s anticipated gathering, reliable sources suggest that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be journeying to Kent next week. The country house party is known to be a perilous affair. Married individuals often find themselves enjoying the company of someone other than their spouse, while the unwed frequently return to town betrothed with surprising haste.

Indeed, the most unexpected engagements often follow closely on the heels of such rustic diversions.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru had no intention of squandering his time this season⸺or at any time, for that matter.

The notion of love matches held little appeal to him, despite witnessing such a union firsthand in his own parents. Make no mistake, the Duke and Duchess Gojo enjoyed a happy marriage, and Satoru held both his father and mother in the highest regard. Yet, he was perfectly content on his own.

Being one of the strongest bachelors⸺both intellectually and physically⸺has been Satoru’s destiny. Ever since his ancestors had been blessed by the royal family with the dukedom, the Gojo family had made its goal to be the most powerful nobility and the closest to the royal family. (Which is still maintained in the status quo, because the Queen dotes on Satoru, inviting him for tea every fortnight. The Queen lavished him with overly sweet biscuits, and in return, Satoru provided her with the latest gossip from court).

But this responsibility doesn’t get fulfilled without independence; one had to accept the solitary truth that to be truly great was to remain unswayed by the fleeting pleasures of the world⸺love included.

Satoru had little time or interest for the other vices that tempted men of his station, such as lust. Contrary to the whispers circulating among the ton, Satoru had never indulged in the life of a rake or frequented brothels as many of his acquaintances did. Really, the allegations were, in truth, merely just a byproduct of his appearance and demeanor; with a young man with the stature, face, and eligibility of Satoru, the public would immediately like to slap on the label of “rake” due to his arrogant personality. Moreover, any encounters he had witnessed between men and women⸺whether dropping his friends off at brothels in his carriage after an evening at the gentleman’s club or overhearing flirtations at parties⸺struck him as shallow and an utter waste of time, especially when he was already a week behind on the ledgers and other official matters his father had entrusted to him. (He did have one indulgence, however: a weakness for gluttony, with an array of sweet confections as his loyal companions during long, sleepless nights.)

Marriage was an even greater burden. The thought of being accountable for a wife, and eventually children, seemed like a daunting task to Satoru. With sleepless nights spent on covering just a fraction of the business his father must do as a duke, Satoru was tired. He was exhausted⸺exhausted from the weight of responsibility, from striving to meet his father’s expectations, from seeking the Queen’s approval, from worrying over what Whistledown might print about him, and from the gossip of the businessmen with whom the Gojo family dealt.

And yet, despite this weariness, Satoru was gripped by an insatiable obsession with perfection, an obsession that only deepened his fatigue. He craved approval, power, and the flawless execution of his duties⸺desires that gnawed at him even as they threatened to consume him.

Which is exactly why he needed a perfect wife. A wife that was capable, could handle bothersome people⸺which he was steadily losing the patience to deal with⸺and a reliable companion. Someone that would reduce his stress, not add to it.

Satoru had spent all day lurking in the shadows as best as he could; being the most eligible bachelor did mean that brothers and sisters were coming up to him, singing praises of their debutante in an effort to capture his interest. But Satoru knew all too well that the loudest families often had the most to compensate for.

As ladies in white paraded before the crowd, many buckling under the weight of judgment and attention, Satoru prowled like a jungle cat, staying hidden in the throng, biding his time, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

What he noticed first about you was your way of carrying yourself. Even Auntie⸺the Queen⸺who, after seeing countless of girls today, had been incredibly bored, dragged her eyes over you in slightly more interest than she did for others. The moment you stepped through those grand doors into the court, it was evident to everyone that your stride was that of someone who understood her role and position in life⸺a confidence that set you apart from the other debutantes. Satoru’s eyes raked over you, observing you as your chest rose slightly as you took a breath in.

And then you smiled.

Satoru's eyes widened, just imperceptibly, as he watched your expression as you made your way to the Queen. He made sure to shake his expression off to a more nonchalant one as he watched your form walk. Lesser men than Satoru would die for your smile. Men, out of all traits a woman could possess, cherished a pretty visage the most. Yet, what your smile conveyed went beyond mere beauty; it embodied innocence and the qualities most esteemed in a demure bride (which Satoru knew was just all a show, but it was indeed indicative of your skill to put up appearances, hence deeming you a reliable companion).

The corner of the young man's mouth rose. When the Queen declared you the diamond of the season, Satoru knew he had found his quarry.

When the ball came, Satoru acted similarly: observing from behind, staying in conversation with his friends and other noble men that did business with the Gojo family as he prowled the ballroom, waiting for the right moment to ask you for your hand. And then Naoya came in when you were finally alone, away from all the incompetent men that dared to think they had a chance to court you, and Satoru almost laughed snarkily at how easy it all was.

Approaching you, saving you from Naoya⸺it was all a perfect construction of his. Dancing, he noticed your steps were carried out with a practiced perfection and grace, and your responses to his questions displayed a respectable level of intellect. He could tell your responses were practiced and simple, your constitution and demeanor a result of much effort into presenting yourself as best as you could. But what does it matter, when you do it so perfectly?

Maybe it was a bit naive of him, but you seemed to glow when conversing with him. It amused him, as he kept watching your pretty eyes as you kept smiling while he kept throwing difficult questions at you. It was all expected, however. Satoru knew he was blessed with the brilliant blue Gojo eyes and eccentric fair, white hair; he was the most eligible bachelor for not only wealth and power but reproductive capabilities and opportunities as well. Which lady wouldn’t want to be mother to his cute and beautiful blue-eyed babies?

After witnessing such mediocre men who paled in comparison to Satoru, surely you must be smitten. Gojo could see right through you: you, the diamond, have been looking for a man as meritorious as you, and you had found it in Satoru.

So why were you acting this way?

When you wake up in the morning and get ready for suitors, it is as you expected; there are multiple carriages outside your doorstep, and there is a line from the drawing room, extending all the way down the stairs. When Choso stumbles into the drawing room, where you and your mother are enjoying tea, he is clearly unhappy at the selection of men waiting to be let in to call upon you.

“This is absurd!” Choso’s hands raked over his hair in an effort to process the scene he had just witnessed. “Why do I see Naoya waiting outside?”

Your nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, dear brother, I certainly cannot control which suitors call upon me. He must’ve enjoyed our conversation yesterday. The enjoyment, however, is one sided.”

Choso’s eyes widened comically. “You had a conversation with him yesterday?” He then turned to your mother accusingly, who was reading a Whistledown while sipping on her tea innocuously. “This would not have happened if I was there, Mother. This is your fault.”

Your mother continued drinking her tea nonchalantly, waiting for a few beats to grace him with a response. “I prefer this, my son, to no visitors out there because our dear Lord Itadori scared all the bachelors away with his pickiness.” Then, her eyes flashed. “And don’t give me that tone.”

You snickered behind your palm as Choso visibly deflated.

“Kuna! Get back here!”

Pitter patters of small paws started to get closer and closer, as heavy footsteps followed it. Yuji and the family corgi, Sukuna Jr., burst into the room. Eyeing the biscuit in your hand, Kuna made his way directly to you, panting at your feet. A pet given affectionately by your-not-so-affectionate older brother, Sukuna, when he left for his year long trip around Europe, Kuna was the cutest little puppy. You and Yuji loved to spoil him, clearly shown as Yuji patted him while breathing heavily. You cooed as Kuna licked your fingers while inhaling the biscuit you had presented him.

“Well,” your mother stood up, having finished her tea, and began ushering in the maids to clear the table. “It seems our morning will be quite busy. You’d best be prepared for a long day, my dear.”

Choso was still grumbling as he took a seat across from you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the long line of suitors outside. “I’m keeping an eye on that Naoya fellow. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way…”

You raised an eyebrow at your brother’s protectiveness, feeling both amused and touched. “Choso, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, with Kuna here, I doubt any of these gentlemen will get too close without proper approval.”

As if understanding the conversation, Sukuna Jr. barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright, expectant eyes. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, watching as his tiny body wriggled with joy.

Yuji, still catching his breath from the chase, flopped onto the chair beside you, shooting a grin at Choso. “Come on, big brother, give her a break. It’s not every day our sister gets declared the diamond of the season. Let her enjoy it.”

Choso crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I’m just saying, if any of these men don’t meet my standards⸺”

“Your standards?” you interrupted with a teasing lilt. “Choso, I’d never find a husband if I had to meet your impossible standards. Besides, you should be more concerned about finding someone yourself.”

Choso’s cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but make no mistake; he was hot with anger, ready to make a snarky retort. Your mother, who had been overseeing the maids, turned her attention back to the conversation with a soft smile.

“Your sister is right, Choso. It’s her time to shine, and as her family, we should support her, not make things more difficult.” She gave him a pointed look before turning to you with a gentler expression, and he backed down as he always does for your mother. “Now, my dear, are you ready to begin receiving your guests?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you steeled yourself for the hours of polite conversation and careful navigation of the social battlefield ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” your mother said, her voice laced with both pride and encouragement. “Remember, you are the diamond of the season. There isn’t a man out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have you.”

You offered a weak smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you walked toward the sofa where you would be talking with suitors, Kuna trotted alongside you, his presence a comforting reminder.With Yuji and Choso trailing behind, and your mother leading the way to open the door, you braced yourself for the onslaught of admirers waiting beyond the door.

But as you straighten your posture, in anticipation to greet the first suitor, you couldn't help but glance down at Kuna, who stared up at you with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled softly.

“Well, Kuna,” you whispered, “let’s see who passes your test today.”

Gojo’s gaze wandered down to Sukuna Jr. in your lap as you stroked his fur, and he gave you a saccharine⸺yet strained⸺smile. “Must this dog bear witness to our conversation?

As if sensing Gojo’s unfriendliness, Kuna started growling, and you could feel the rumble deep in his stomach. You met Gojo’s sweet smile with one of your own. “Yes.”

Gojo blinked, and the smile on his face faltered. You noticed that this was one of the first time Gojo’s ever expressed an emotion outside of smugness, and you count this as your personal win.

“Well,” he hesitated, and then a smile was on his face as if that stumble didn’t happen. “You look wonderful this morning, Miss Itadori.”

Your eyes flashed at his audacity to talk behind your back and try to fool you with flattery. “On the contrary, I think I look rather simple.”

Gojo, none the wiser as to what you were referring to, waved his hands. “Nonsense.”

Before you could respond, Kuna let out a low, rumbling growl, his sharp eyes fixed on Gojo. The sound was subtle, but in the quiet of the morning, it was unmistakable. Gojo’s gaze flickered down to the small dog, and his smile tightened ever so slightly.

You gently scratched behind Kuna’s ears, calming him, though his gaze never left Gojo. “I apologize on behalf of my dear Kuna,” you said, your voice light but nonetheless pointed. “He tends to be wary of many, particularly those he believes to be with ulterior motives.”

Gojo nodded, unfazed, and looked down at the dog in question. Upon eye contact, all your efforts to calm Kuna went to naught as the dog stood up, tense and teeth almost bared fully, to stare back at Gojo defiantly. Gojo, to his credit, was starting to be a little wary and was giving the pup an impassive stare.

“You know, I have an affinity for dogs. There are many pups that I have spent my entire childhood with.” He offered a chuckle and moved his hand to pet Kuna. “Dogs do have a way of sensing things, don’t they?” That was clearly the wrong decision because the dog’s growl grew louder, and suddenly, he snapped at Gojo’s hand. Before Kuna could sink his teeth into Gojo’s hand, however, Gojo smoothly withdrew it out of his reach.

“Protective, isn’t he?” Gojo laughed, but his stare towards Kuna was veering more and more into a glare. He tried to disguise his irritation by suavely adding, “Admirable. I’m glad he has protected my lady so well.” Gojo then grabbed your hand to give you a small kiss on the back of it while keeping eye contact. You had to divert your eyes elsewhere to avoid coloring your cheeks; while you knew this was just another one of Gojo’s pretenses to charm you, you were still fazed by it.

You cleared your throat and tried to uphold the conversation. After all, it would be outright rude to keep throwing thinly veiled insults his way when there were others in your company; he also had the potential to spread further malicious rumors about you if you showed attitude. You mustered up a fake smile, and offered, “He was a gift to me and Yuji offered by my older brother, Sukuna, when he went traveling,” you offered.

“Is that the brother you hoped to follow to Europe?”

You blinked and faltered. You didn’t expect him to remember that tidbit from your conversation at the ball last night. While most of the preferences you had asserted were artificial⸺supplemented to you by your tutor, who had drilled what fake preferences of yours would woo men⸺you truly did gain enthusiasm for the languages because you hoped to prove your helpfulness to Sukuna in an effort to run away from your inevitable debut. At the time, you were rebelling against anything your mama said, avoiding anything associated with being paraded around like an animal, put on display for men. “Yes,” you said slowly, “Yes, it is.”

Gojo smiled, this time a little more genuine at the fact it was his first time receiving an authentic response from you this morning, rather than something covered with a fake smile. Just as he leaned in slightly, probably preparing to make another smooth remark, Kuna, who had been shifting in your lap, suddenly stilled, his face buried in your lap and tail facing Gojo. For a moment, you thought he might be settling down.

And then it happened.

The largest fart ripped through the room out of Kuna’s arse, which was pointed directly in Gojo’s face. While you were not a scholar studying physics, you were aware that the air dynamics did not do Gojo any favors in preventing the smell from hitting him direct-on. Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and his suave expression faltered entirely as the smell quickly followed, filling the air around you both.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in your effort not to laugh out loud. Trying to keep your composure, you gently patted Kuna’s belly, who was now face up, tongue lolling out in bliss. “Oh, dear,” you muttered, your voice strained with the effort to suppress a laugh.

Gojo, for once, was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, probably at the smell; whenever you and Yuji spoiled Kuna with those biscuits, he dropped nasty-smelling dungs, and you knew Gojo wasn’t spared at all. The arrogant bachelor, who always seemed to have a witty response ready, was now at a loss of words as he weakly gazed upon the weak little poot! poot!s that escaped Kuna as you continued patting his stomach in an effort to relieve your pup’s digestive system.

At Gojo’s expression, you had to take quiet, deep breaths in an effort to rein in the cackles that were threatening to overcome you. You resorted to covering your mouth as you strained, “As you can see, my Kuna is quite expressive, and he seemed quite eager to show you that.”

He offered you a strained smile. “He does indeed generate quite a bit of wind.” At that, you could no longer hold back. Genuine laughter wracked through your figure, hurting your ribs as you tried to quell it with a hand to the mouth, but no avail. Your muffled laughter was still loud, and when the giggles subsided, you wiped your tears and threw an apologetic look at Gojo, preparing to express your regret.

But you stopped at the sheer wonder he contained in his face as his gaze fixated on your lips, which were drawn back in the ghost of the smile you had while laughing riotously. Without allowing you much time to dwell on it, he stood up and dipped his head in a little bow. “Well, I have been taking quite a bit of your time, Miss Itadori. I better let other suitors have their chance.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I hope to see you at the horse race tomorrow.”

“Likewise.” You couldn’t help but spy some red coloring Gojo’s alabaster cheeks as he made his way to the exit. As you greeted the next suitor, the imprint of a certain man’s lips continued to tingle on your hands.

“I told you he was a rake,” Nobara muttered as she scrubbed your arm with an intensity that matched her outrage. After hearing what Gojo had said about you, she was livid. Unfortunately, your skin was bearing the brunt of her frustration.

“Well,” you mused, trying to distract her, “what rumors have you heard that make you think that?”

“Momo told me a few months ago⸺” Nobara paused, her hands hovering over the various bottles on the counter. “Which scent would you prefer for your hair?”

“Sandalwood,” you replied.

Nobara nodded and poured some of the rich liquid into her hands before massaging it into your scalp. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension from the day's exhausting and dull conversations slowly melt away under her skillful fingers. “Momo mentioned that he’s often out late at night, which seems suspicious. But now that I think about it, Momo isn’t the most reliable source,” Nobara added, her tone shifting to one of skepticism.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“There’s talk that she attempted to lure another maid’s husband into an affair,” Nobara replied, her hands now working the shampoo through your hair with a practiced ease. “She even tried to gain access to his quarters.”

You gasped. “How scandalous!”

“I know,” Nobara said, her hands now massaging the back of your neck with a gentler touch. “So, who knows how much truth there is to her gossip. But still, Gojo’s behavior is less than honorable, don’t you think?”

You sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. “He was gossiping about me with other men, calling me all sorts of horrible things⸺‘simple,’ of all things. And yet, he has the audacity to want to call upon me?”

“You know,” Nobara mused as she continued her task, “He sounds the exact opposite of what some of your books would imply.”

You hummed in agreement, recalling the radical works you kept hidden beneath your bed. Your mother would be appalled if she ever discovered them, but you often sought solace in political writings that challenged the rigid expectations of society. “I know. And that is precisely why I have no intention of encouraging his attention this season—at least, not before I ensure his complete and utter humiliation.”

“But do take care. His connections to the Queen are quite strong.”

You drew back from Nobara's hands, much to her chagrin. She gave you a glare while you exclaimed, "What?"

“Surely you’re aware that the Gojo dukedom is among the closest to the royal family?”

You fervently hoped your mother hadn’t caught wind of Gojo's status. Yet, the way she had been observing you⸺subtly scrutinizing you in the drawing room while feigning interest in a suitor awaiting his turn⸺suggested otherwise. She had certainly noticed Gojo's growing interest, and the thought of her getting involved, fixating on a match with him, filled you with dread. Drawing your hands over your face, you moaned, the very notion of her scheming to pair you with Gojo weighing heavily on your mind.

“But that should hardly be a concern if you’ve begun to distance yourself from him, correct? You have been creating some distance, haven’t you?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Nobara, ever quick to discern your hesitation, gasped in exasperation. “You cannot seriously be considering giving this gentleman any encouragement, can you?”

"No, no, it’s not that,” you replied, massaging your temples in frustration. “It’s just that my mother is probably ecstatic at the prospect of securing a match between me and Gojo.”

“But surely, if she knew the things he’s been saying behind your back, she would understand.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but it felt as if your throat had closed up. Would she really? A match with Gojo would mean elevated status for the Itadori family⸺a duchess for a daughter. What worth is there in being the diamond of the season if not to secure the most advantageous match? The very thought made your chest tighten with the suffocating realization that your mother might very well advocate for the union, despite Gojo’s duplicity.

“I⸺” you swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Before Nobara could interrupt, you stood up and reached for your robe.

Nobara's brow furrowed as she watched you stand up. "Where do you think you're going? You’re not done with your bath, and your hair is still full of suds!" She reached out to stop you, her hands hovering as though unsure whether to pull you back into the tub or grab the robe you were now clutching.

You forced a small, tired smile, grateful for the distraction. “I need just a moment. The water's gone cold, anyway.”

“Oh, nonsense! You’ll catch a chill if you get out now. Sit back down,” Nobara insisted, her protest tinged with genuine concern. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back toward the warm water.

With a reluctant sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed back into the tub. The momentary reprieve from the conversation was a relief, and you welcomed Nobara’s determined focus on completing your bath. She picked up a sponge, her earlier frustration melting into concentration as she scrubbed your back.

“Well, we can discuss that scheming rake later,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “For now, let’s get you properly cleaned up before your mother comes looking for you. She’d never forgive me if I let you appear anything less than perfect.”

You nodded with a lump in your throat, grateful for the change in topic, even if only temporary. The soothing rhythm of Nobara's hands working through your hair, the warmth of the bathwater, and the familiar, comforting routine helped ease the tightness in your chest. For now, the troubling thoughts of Gojo and your mother's ambitions could be set aside.

“Now, hold still,” Nobara said, her tone softening as she rinsed the last of the soap from your hair. “We’ll have you looking radiant again in no time.”

The conversation was left unfinished, hanging in the air like a question that neither of you was quite ready to answer. But for now, the silence was a welcome refuge.

"Do you have any notion of how impossible it is to charm a lady when there is a pup expelling such foul air right beneath your nose?" Satoru lamented, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his tousled hair. The trio gathered at the table presented a rather unusual sight: Satoru, visibly discomposed; Nanami, calmly sipping his drink as ever; and Suguru, nearly doubled over in laughter at his friend’s misfortune.

“Would you please⸺SMACK⸺cease your laughing?!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who seemed to be of no hope, now with tears in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and the back of his head, which Satoru had just hit.

“Truly, your vanity⸺haaah⸺your vanity was in need of humbling,” Suguru managed between breaths, still snickering behind his palms.

Satoru glowered, crossing his arms and staring daggers into his drink, as if his gaze alone could break the fine glass. “My pride had already suffered enough. She was positively frigid.”

Nanami hummed. “Perhaps she’s merely discerned your true nature.”

“It defies comprehension,” Gojo groaned, ignoring Kento’s statement. “What kind of lady disparages her own beauty as ‘simple’? I cannot fathom what has caused her such vexation. Only the night before, she was utterly taken with me!”

Suguru⸺who had now calmed down⸺was in the midst of wiping his tears when he suddenly stopped. “You don’t suppose it had anything to do with your careless words, do you?”

Kento eyed the pair in front of him with an accusatory side eye. “And what precisely did you say?”

“Satoru, in his usual fashion, could not contain his tongue. Out on the terrace, with the garden as witness, he spoke rather unkindly, referring to the diamond as ‘simple and dull.’”

“Nonsense,” Satoru waved his hands, dismissing the idea. “The lady would never wander the gardens at such an hour in the night unchaperoned.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” Kento gave him a stern look and continued, “I happened upon her last night, emerging from the gardens, and she appeared rather disheveled.”

This revelation gave Satoru pause, but if there was one thing certain about Satoru Gojo, it was this: his arrogance was such that he could scarcely fathom anyone, least of all a lady, finding his charm anything but irresistible⸺even if that very lady had overheard him uttering defamatory remarks about her. And this lady was one he could not let go of, unless he wanted to wave good-bye to his future.

“I am confident all will be well,” Gojo exhaled, his lips curving into a Cheshire smile. “Even if she did overhear, surely a few well-chosen sweet words will surely set matters right.”

(He was most grievously mistaken.)

“How many of those biscuits do you suppose we could finish?” Yuji was eyeing the biscuits from his seat next to you in the pavilion where you and your family were sitting. Out promenading with the other families of the ton, it was a scenic and beautiful day for you to mingle with even more suitors. The joy!

“Certainly less than me,” you remarked, sipping on your tea smugly. By the irritated pout on his face, you knew you were successful at getting a rise out of your younger brother. Knowing your mother wasn’t in sight, you quickly darted for the jam-filled biscuits, and your brother quickly followed in tow; soon, you were both stuffing your faces silly with the sugary treats.

“You two are incorrigible,” Choso scrunched his nose from where he sat across from you, arms crossed. “There’s no need to inhale those biscuits. What if someone sees?”

Yuji stuck out his tongue⸺now adorned with biscuit crumbs⸺and continued gorging, while you snickered at your younger brother’s pettiness.

“Miss Itadori.”

You began coughing wildly, caught off guard, and hastily straightened your posture to greet your guest. You turned to see Lord Ino, who offered you a slight nod before acknowledging your brothers. “Lord Itadori. Mister Itadori.”

“Lord Ino, nice to meet you on such a fine day.” You try to put a smile on your face as best as you can, even though you were caught off guard. “How do you find today’s weather?”

Takuma grabs the back of your hand to kiss it. “I find it wonderful for the prospect of promenading. Do you care to do so with me?”

“Of course,” You stand up and link your elbows with Takuma’s.

“We’ll be thirty paces behind you, sister.” You both turned to look at Choso, who was giving Lord Ino his inevitable protective glare. Given Ino’s acceptable station, Choso hadn’t immediately protested, unlike the many suitors he had chased out of your manor the day before. He grabbed Yuji by the elbow, who, with cheeks comically inflated like a chipmunk hoarding acorns, was promptly dragged away. “Yuji, get up.” The last you saw of your brothers was Yuji’s futile protests, his mouth too full to be coherent⸺inevitably sending some crumbs flying onto Choso⸺and Choso swatting him for it.

As you began your walk with Lord Ino, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming horse race. “Are you looking forward to the race this afternoon?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I am,” the lord replied. “And you?”

“Very much so,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I have a feeling that the less popular horse⸺Blaze, was it?⸺might surprise everyone. The conditions seem just right for an underdog victory; the track is soft and warm, which would favor Blaze’s build.”

Lord Ino glanced at you with a polite but unconvinced smile. “But Thunder has higher odds and more bets. It’s as simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the word “simple,” a word that had recently come to grate on your nerves. You pressed on, though, determined to keep the conversation pleasant. “I suppose there’s some truth to that, but sometimes there’s more to a race than just the odds and popularity.”

Ino chuckled softly. “Well, a good mentor and friend of mine⸺Duke Nanami⸺agrees with the odds, and His Grace is someone I deeply respect. I tend to follow his lead⸺the duke has a way of teaching lessons without hindering one’s growth.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a trumpet blared in the distance, signaling the start of the race. You looked at him, giving him a courteous nod, gesturing in the general direction Choso and Yuji were supposed to be in. “It seems the race is about to begin. I must rejoin my family.”

You curtsied as he bowed, and you watched as he walked away, leaving you momentarily alone. You took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering irritation from the conversation. Just as you began looking for your family, you felt a presence approaching.

You turned to find Lady Mei Mei and her entourage closing in. Their expressions were a study in artful contempt, laced with curiosity and barely concealed amusement. The atmosphere between you was thick with unspoken competition, each woman silently gauging the other’s position on the social ladder.

“Miss Itadori, what a nice surprise!” Lady Mei Mei remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “It appears you are alone and unchaperoned in a garden yet again! At least, according to what the rumors say. Was it part of yet another one of your charming ploys to get what you want?"

You met her gaze with cool composure, not giving her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Lady Mei Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if appraising a particularly interesting specimen. "Really?" she mused, drawing out the word as though savoring it. "It’s just that Lord Gojo hasn’t spoken with you all day. Even if Whistledown commended you in the last issue, I wouldn’t expect his interest to linger." The two ladies flanking her⸺unremarkable save for their sycophantic attachment to Mei Mei⸺giggled behind their fans, as though she had delivered a crushing blow.

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. "So I’m assuming he called upon you?" you questioned sweetly, your voice laced with feigned politeness.

For a fleeting moment, Lady Mei Mei’s carefully curated composure slipped, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face before she regained control. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper meant for you alone. “None of the suitors will be interested in you any longer. The Queen may have mistakenly proclaimed you the diamond, but a pretty face, empty smiles, and hollow words can only last so long.”

“Whatever would be most convenient for you to believe.” Her words were empty and her threats dull, but you couldn’t help but let it compound on the irritation you had experienced today. But you knew better than to let your tongue loose; you were quite impulsive when you had started, and you didn’t want to start any scandal anytime soon. Instead, you held your ground, trying to maintain your composure (outwardly, at least) as Lady Mei Mei and her entourage turned to leave, their laughter echoing in your ears.

You tried to implement a few things your tutor had ingrained in you: taking deep breaths and setting your posture correctly. However, as you stood there, collecting yourself, the last thing you needed seemed to manifest before you: Satoru Gojo.

His tall figure approached you with that familiar, self-assured stride, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, Miss Itadori," he greeted, a sly smile playing on his lips. You were already irritated, and it took all your will-power to stifle a groan.

"I couldn’t help but notice you were conversing with Lord Ino," he remarked casually.

Give him a smile. "Indeed, we were enjoying a promenade. It is, after all, what young ladies and their suitors are expected to do."

“Quite the choice in company!”

KEEP up the smile. "He is a nobleman, and I am of noble descent. I fail to see your point, Mr. Gojo."

Gojo’s smile was quick and cutting. “Oh, I’ve no particular quarrel with Lord Ino. It’s simply that he’s hardly the sort I’d expect to see on your arm. After all, he’s practically Nanami’s lapdog.”

You felt the familiar irritation rising within you⸺and you were fighting for your life trying to keep a smile on your face⸺but you kept your tone measured. "And what, pray tell, are you implying by that, Mr. Gojo?"

"It’s quite simple, really⸺"

But your patience, already worn thin, snapped at that word.

"My good sir, do you not think it rather dishonorable to speak ill of others behind their backs?" Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. "It’s curious how quickly opinions can change, is it not? Just the other evening, you seemed to hold me in rather low regard. Tell me, do you often dismiss people as ‘simple’ when they fail to meet any of the lofty expectations you have set? Or do you perhaps truly believe yourself to be at a station higher than others?"

Gojo stiffened, the smile slipping from his face as your words hit their mark. Before he could respond, Choso appeared at your side, his protective presence a welcome relief.

“Is there any problem, sister?” Choso asked, his tone polite yet firm as he glanced at Satoru, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked to Choso, his irritation clear as he opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, and you couldn’t thank the gods enough for Choso’s mother hen tendencies. But the words faltered when he recognized who had interrupted. For a brief moment, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile.

You seized the moment, turning to Satoru with a sweet smile. “I think our time is up, Mister Gojo,” you said, your voice laced with venom.

Satoru hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Until next time, Miss Itadori.”

With that, he stepped back, allowing you and Choso to walk away toward where people were gathering for the race. As you moved through the crowd, you could feel Satoru’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t look back.

“That horse appears rather stout, does it not?” Yuji squinted against the blazing sun as he observed the horses from his seat beside you in the grandstand. “Why has it garnered so many bets?”

Choso, seated protectively on your other side, kept a steady arm linked with yours. His presence was reassuring, though your irritation was directed at the figure seated just below you. Satoru Gojo, to your endless chagrin, was sitting with Lady Mei Mei, who had all but forced her way into the seat beside him. Though he tried to appear indifferent, his signature flirty remarks flowing with ease, you noticed the subtle signs of irritation crossing his face. Whether it stemmed from Lady Mei Mei's advances or from your earlier exchange, you couldn't be sure. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could feel his eyes on you intermittently as the crowd waited for the race to begin.

“Men can be quite foolish at times,” you remarked hotly, your voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Some people value the superficial and materialistic over true substance, much like they do with horses. Blaze, for instance, has the qualities that truly matter.”

You could almost feel Gojo’s gaze intensify, and despite yourself, you glanced in his direction. Lady Mei Mei, ever the actress, feigned a stumble, exclaiming with a coy smile, “These crowds are rather rough on a lady!”

You scoffed inwardly at her transparent attempt to press her bosom against Gojo’s arm.

“Oh my,” Gojo drawled, his voice oozing concern. “We can’t have that, can we?” Ever the gallant gentleman, he interlaced his arm with hers. “Here, for extra protection. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady shedding tears beside me.”

Mei Mei’s smirk was as satisfied as a serpent after a meal, and she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “If I were to cry, would you console me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied smoothly. “Though I might find myself crying should my horse lose. The bets I’ve placed are rather substantial.”

A flirtatious giggle escaped Mei Mei’s lips. “Then I shall cheer with all my might, so you needn’t suffer any losses, my lord.”

You were perilously close to tearing your hair out.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lady,” Gojo said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with exaggerated flourish. “But rest assured, I am quite confident of a victory today. Thunder is swift and cunning, far superior to that... other horse. It’s simple, really—Thunder will win.”

Your composure cracked. “Yuji,” you called, your voice sharp. Your brother, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention. “Despite the other horse’s popularity, Blaze possesses the one quality universal to all champions: speed and diligence. The track conditions are in its favor.”

Yuji, caught off guard, blinked in confusion. “Yes, of course, sister,” he mumbled, clearly unsure of why you were addressing him.

“And anyone who thinks otherwise,” you continued, raising your voice slightly, “is bound to lose their money. Sorely and simply.”

Gojo matched your tone, his voice ringing out. “But of course, it’s all in good fun. There’s no need for hostility over a sport, is there? Both horses are fine contenders, though I remain convinced Thunder shall emerge victorious.”

Mei Mei tittered, parroting his sentiments, but you could hardly see straight for the anger coursing through you. Unable to hold back, you retorted, “However, it is, after all, still a race. And Blaze will win.”

By now, your exchange had drawn the attention of those around you, including your brothers. Choso and Yuji exchanged puzzled glances before Yuji asked weakly, “Are you still talking to us, sister?” Meanwhile, Choso’s protective instincts flared, his gaze darting suspiciously between you and Gojo.

Before you could reply, the horses lined up at the starting gate, and the crowd collectively rose to their feet, including Gojo. “Steady now, Thunder!” he called out, his voice brimming with confidence.

Not to be outdone, you shouted, “Come on, Blaze!”

The bell rang, and the horses surged forward, the crowd erupting in cheers. Blaze and Thunder quickly pulled ahead, the two horses locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Thunder was currently ahead, its sleek form cutting through the track with precision.

“Steady, Thunder! Keep the lead!” Gojo’s voice was full of excitement, urging his horse onward.

Your heart raced with frustration as Blaze lagged slightly behind. “You can do this, Blaze!” you urged, your voice rising above the din. Without thinking, you began whistling sharply, drawing alarmed looks from your brothers. The stares from the crowd meant nothing to you as you focused solely on the race.

Blaze, as if responding to your encouragement, began to accelerate, its powerful strides eating up the ground between it and Thunder. You noticed Thunder’s pace faltering, fatigue setting in, while Blaze surged ahead, pulling into the lead with a quarter of the race remaining.

Now it was Gojo’s turn to whistle, his voice tinged with desperation. “Straight to the finish line, Thunder! Don’t let up!”

But Blaze only widened the gap, its momentum carrying it farther ahead. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a joyous sound that bubbled up from within as Blaze crossed the finish line first, with Thunder trailing behind.

“Goddamn it,” Gojo cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. You clapped your hands in delight, your laughter ringing out.

With deliberate grace, you placed your hands on your hips and turned to Gojo, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’m so glad the ‘simple’ horse won,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems I’ve finally bested a duke.”

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into you, their intensity searing, but you met his glare with a boisterous laugh, savoring the victory as the crowd’s cheers and claps echoed around you. Until it was only the two of you, staring each other down.

Gojo ⸺ 0, you ⸺ 1.

Now, Duchess Gojo had always had a penchant for gossip, no one escaping her eye and observation. Of course, it was now the Whistledown era, for the unknown author could observe far more than the high-profile duchess, who was the receiver of much praise and attention due to her son’s eligibility. But this eligibility had only been achieved because of her ability to direct the tide based on her reconnaissance, and in all her years, no could match her sass and direction. Except one.

"You know, Lady Itadori," the Duchess remarked, her tone laced with feigned pensiveness, "the Gojo manor in the countryside has been dreadfully quiet, and, if I may say, it has been quite some time since we last enjoyed a proper tête-à-tête.”

The two ladies stood together near the stands, choosing a more secluded spot from which to observe the horse race. Lady Itadori, her closest confidante, met the Duchess’s gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Indeed, I must agree."

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their eyes surveying the scene before them. From the ladies flirting shamelessly to the gentlemen scrambling for the favor of the season’s debutantes, they were like spectators at a grand circus. Yet, their attention was drawn to a particular act.

Raising her fan to her lips, Lady Itadori whispered conspiratorially to the Duchess, "I might add, my diamond has been spending a considerable amount of time in your son’s company."

The Duchess met her friend’s eyes and laughed lightly. "How many days do you wager it will take in the manor?"

Lady Itadori, now fully smirking, gave a delicate shrug. "It took you and the Duke but four days."

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: reader is hearing boss music rn

forced proximity whatttt

gojo when kuna ripped one in his face

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

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@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

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godslino · 9 months ago

Text

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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kyri45 · 3 months ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 28/10✨

I'll be streaming on my Twitch page TOMORROW at 1PM ET!

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will MK have a power neither Wukong nor Macaque have ?

Probably something that is a mix of each parent power, creating something new. Like- He can hear the past, but can also use his gold vision. SO maybe he learns not only to hear to past, but also see it (but maybe instead of being gold the vision is purple)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK have nightmares about LBD or Azures death or something? @the-ninja-girl-in-blue ha chiesto: I swear for some reason, even after returning back to his normal age, I still can’t help but picture MK having a nightmare in the middle of the night and just starts chirping in his sleep because of it and that ends up getting the attention of his two monkey dads. I can’t help but picture them either waking him up and asking him about the nightmare into his bed to cuddle with him to hopefully calm him down. I also kind of like the idea of them offering to let him stay in their bed with them for the night. basically, I just wanna see them comforting MK after he has a nightmare. For some reason, I could see the nightmare being about either LBD or about the ending of season five when he attempts suicide.

Yes he does have nightmares about that. He usually does, most times he's at Pigsy's, and Freenoodle is there to help him. He hasn't had a LBD nightmare at FFM yet, but even as an adult he would totally chirp without noticing it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Angst idea what if heaven was scared of MK being the "harbinger of chaos" and took him away as a baby locking him away instead. It's up to you if wukong knew of his existence before he was taken. Eventually someone or something releases him. MK Finds out why he was locked away and just goes on a rampage through heaven bonus angst wukong has to stop him

Do heaven even knew he was the harbinger of chaos? Like seriously I don't remember if it was ever stated in the show. Honestly is crazy no one picked up that kid aurea. Makes you wonder who te fuck put such a powerful glamour on him when he was found by Pigsy.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hi :D i wanted to say that i LOOOVE the bioparents au, it's so lovely 💖 and, i must ask, will we get more cliché scenes with our little monkeys? like accidental fall or something on this lines? i need my clichés back 😭😭

eeehhhhh maybe? I'm not too much of a fan of clichè I'll be honest, mostly bc I see them around all the time and I prefer to do something new.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I think it would be funny if MK started subconsciously mimicking things from his friends and family. little things like putting his shoes the same way Teng does. Standing in the same posture as Mei. Ext. Monkeys often will mimic each other as a sign of fondness and affection. Monkey see monkey do.

I think he already does that in the show with Wukong sometimes! It's super cute!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Okay hear me out, since mk kinda saw their past and everything. Does mk possibly have small abandonment issues (not that he doesn’t already) and does he hear little moments in the past of macaque and Wukong’s pain. By the way I absolutely love your art!!! I check your page everyday. 💕

I think if he ever said that to Wukong he'll make sure that every.single.day. he reminds him that he'll never leave his side.

@tinyplanetss ha chiesto: regarding the latest biodads update, did wukong ever know that macaque panicked and lashed out way back then due to seeing his "betrayal" in his future vision? i can't imagine it would've come up before he mentioned it to mk, unless they had a talk about it after their rooftop apology.....

I think they talked about it during the night Wukong apologized to Macaque. The comic I did stops after a certain point but they talked all night about what happened.

Anonimo ha chiesto: (Macaque on some late night mission): I've got to get back before Wukong realizes I'm not in bed. (Wukong who woke up and had a nightmare): Macaque.. MACAQUE

They can't stand being apart anymore now.

@eerieqloss ha chiesto: Wait I got a question, at the beginning of the Shadowpeach bio parent AU When they found out MK was their son biologically through Nuwa of course. But how did they get to her and ask her? I don't know why this question just randomly appeared in my head

Now that MK "opened the gate" access to other deities is much more easier.

@bottyshaker-900o ha chiesto: Wait! Does MK know they sleep together now!?

He did 2+2.

@youroriku ha chiesto: If MK monkey form is showing more or will there be a comic where he lost Control over it ?Recently, fewer people talk about it. Btw i love your art ❤️🌸🫶

mmm... Maybe not in my current timeline. Maybe more in the future. I don't think MK himself wants to loose control again like with Azure

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hii love your art! Wouldn't it be funny if someone was trying to have a serious conversation with Wukong and Macaque and baby MK is just climbing all over their shoulders and they're completely unfaced by it cuz it's like 'yeah this is normal just let him play' but whoever they're talking with can't focus on anything but MK's shinanigans.

hehehe baby shenanigans my beloved

Anonimo ha chiesto: I'll admit I'm more into the chubby, dad bod gang for Wukong but the way you draw buff wukong also makes me happy too! ^-^

Thank you!

@ketsuruithekiller ha chiesto: I like to suffer. So I would like to know if Wukong still has thoughts of guilt. If he fully accepted Mk's decision not to be his successor, without having the idea that like others he would hate it and leave at some point.

ye he does sometimes have the paranoia. But MK is there also to remind him that he'll always be in his life.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are Wukong and Macaque, in your bio parents au, back together? Or is it a situationship? I'm sorry if it's already been stated in the story or if you've already answered something like this. I'm just a brain-dead potato who loves your comic.

Nah they still are in the progress of having to forgive each other but they are very much in a situationship.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ello Ello, do you think any of the three monkeys would know how to take care of a sick person? Or would they just have to go to sandy or pigsy or someone?

I think yes. Canonically by JTTW, Wukong is an expert in many fields, including medicine. But I do wonder if sometimes he forget after so many years of reclusion that people can get sick.

Anonimo ha chiesto: So Wukong was stuck in the memory of MK sacrificing himself ? Was it identical to the scene in season 5 or was his dream different ? Poor Wukong looked so traumatized

It was the same as S5

Anonimo ha chiesto: I love, LOVE your bio au! I enjoy a lot!!!! Question! Wukong and Macaque have any chance to go to a date?

mmm maybe in the future

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know Is not the case but At some point, hasn't Pigsy felt a little jealous or strange of how MK goes directly to Wukong or Macacke when he has a problem?

I think Freenoodle is taking the opportunity of having the second set of parents to annoy the heck out of them and redirect all the akward questions and advices the kid ask them because "we had to do it for 21 years now you get to have the annoying part of parenting as well"

@azureandcrimson ha chiesto: Hello!! I absolutely love your art and I am currently watching your twitch (Which I can't log into and type in chat for some reason😭) but anyways. I also have a question if you ship Mei with anyone? Like a side character or Spindrax or someone else or if you make her Aroace or just don't generally ship her or smth! :) But besides that I love your art style and the way you draw everything!! Thank you for drawing this stuff and feeding my LMK hyperfixation!!

I do also ship Dragon fruit. Just in my comic I kind of had to choose one ship for now.

wolfsonic ha chiesto: Since we know WuKong is the bottom of ShadowPeach. Who's the bottom in SpiceyNoodles?

MMMMMMMMM TOO SOON TO SAY.

@draxeanlxia ha chiesto: Bio!Parents AU question, who does the laundry and who’s not allowed to touch the laundry because he’ll ruin your clothes without meaning to? For me, I think Wukong would be the one doing laundry while Macaque isn’t allowed near the washing machine. But that’s just me, what’s yours?

yeah seems fitting!

Anonimo ha chiesto: If MK started blushing when he saw Red Son in his true form I wonder how he would react to seeing Red Son shirtless with muscles and abs in that form XD

I headcanon MK as demisexual so probably he would notice and appreciate the aesthetic attraction but wouldn't be TOO flustered. In this case, it's RedSon who's the Wukong of the two of them (being flustered by like, seeing 2% of MK back or smt.)

Anonimo ha chiesto: So I wondered if Xiaotian's powers were like Steven's, since they responded to his emotions

yep.

Anonimo ha chiesto: If they decide to have a baby who will be pregnant macaque or wukong!?

I think I said it already once but I don't think that's how baby Stone Monkeys are born??? Like how would carry a stone inside your body work that's the thing. There's is to say they are demons who knows how they work honestly.

Anonimo ha chiesto:Will the calabash return ?

nope

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does Mei have a true form? Doesn’t seem fair that MK and Red Son have super forms and Mei doesn’t. I think she should be able to be a straight up dragon.

Doesn't she already goes straight up dragon in the show?

@phantom-premeir ha chiesto: Okay this is a pretty dumb question but I gotta know, out of the monkey trio whose the biggest crash out,just an absolute mess of a person?

I think Wukong

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are we gonna see a wedding of these gay monkeys?

Who knows.

@azureandcrimson ha chiesto:Oh my gosh, the new chapter is amazing, now we defiantly know Macaque has probably courtnapped Wukong >:3 I also have another question! Perhaps in the future will Macaques sacrifice be brought up? Like, yeah, he came back. But the guy was gone for days and who knows what he saw in there and/or what memories he saw because he was probably stuck in those for days. But just wondering if you might bring that up in the future? :) Make sure to take breaks, drink water and eat something!! >:(

Oh yeah that ahah. Maybe?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Imagine MK's sacrifice in season 5 would happen AFTER Macaque and Wukong found out that he is their son. This would make it even more heartbreaking

Bruh... Xiaotian wouldn't have been able to move an inch again from Wukong after he came back.

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Wait... Is Wukong going to have to find a new successor now that MK won't be it?

Maybe what he will look for wont be a successor.... but an heir.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Is the monkey's tail sensitive or smt!? I mean what will happen if u pull it ?

We r getting into NSFW territory here...

Anonimo ha chiesto:who do u think is the fluffiest monkey? Also what happens if said monkey got towel dried and poofed up?

MK, becasue he's a cub by stone monkey standard. He would become a fur ball.

arrow-artzz ha chiesto: Hello! I just wanna say, I love your art style and this whole ShadowPeach parent au ur making and I get so hyped and excited when I see a new part/ep come out!! I hope ur having fun with it and keep up the great work, you do a fantastic job, and you also inspire me to keep trying small art projects at home!! I truly hope you’re having a wonderful night, after noon or night! also think it would be cute if the whole gang did a movie night (Halloween movie) at FFM and one scene comes up and macaque used Wukong as a shield as if the movie was real :3 sorry this was long I tap a lot “^^

I think Wukong would be the one scared. Macaque is literally has sleep paralysis monsters has pets

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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leahrintarou · 4 months ago

Text

✩₊˚.⋆ THREE MINUTES ! - rindou haitani / 10.08 / kinktober

CW: public "sex", fingering, teasing, they're best friends, female anatomy, she/her used, one-sided pleasure, that's all lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: welcome to the fifth post of my kinktober series! i hope you enjoy. leave a like or reblog to show support. (updates this week might be off or posted on a diff day since i'll be traveling somewhere with family. if not posted on the designated day, it will be posted eventually when i get back home.)

it took a lot of pleading, a lot of pouting, and quite a bit of persuasion for y/n to finally get rindou to agree to see a horror movie with her. he’d been reluctant, as always, keeping his usual stoic expression as she begged, a faint sigh escaping him after she tugged at his sleeve one too many times.

“alright, fine,” he finally said, rolling his eyes with a small, barely-there smile. “but you’re paying for the popcorn.”

y/n’s face lit up instantly, and she practically bounced in excitement. “deal! you won’t regret it, i promise!”

now, sitting side by side in the dim theater, rindou was starting to question his decision. as soon as the movie began, he leaned back in his seat, trying to relax as the ominous music set the tone. y/n was fully immersed, her eyes wide as she clutched his arm during each jump scare, gasping and gripping his hand tighter with every loud noise and flickering shadow on the screen.

rindou, on the other hand, sat unbothered, his expression unfazed by the attempts to frighten him. he shot her a sidelong glance, noting the way she reacted to the tension, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. she was so easily scared, and he found it endearing, though he’d never say so.

about halfway through, he noticed something different. y/n’s grip had loosened, and her eyes, while still on the screen, had a faraway look in them. she seemed to be shifting in her seat, her legs rubbing together subtly, her face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the horror unfolding onscreen.

rindou quirked an eyebrow, leaning over to whisper, “something more interesting than the movie going on?”

y/n’s head snapped toward him, caught off guard, and she felt a deep wave of embarrassment. “what? no, i was just... i’m watching, i swear.”

he gave her a knowing look, one that made her squirm under his gaze. “right. because from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re a little too distracted to be paying attention to what’s going on,” he murmured, his voice low, a faint smirk ghosting across his face. “did you really just waste our money on tickets just to get yourself all worked up over nothing?”

she huffed, crossing her arms in defense. “it’s not my fault! the movie got kind of... you know, intense, and you’re here, and...” her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, clearly embarrassed.

rindou chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor breaking just enough for her to catch it. “oh, i see. so, you dragged me out here, begged me to watch this horror movie, and now you’re not even paying attention. that’s what i’m hearing.”

y/n pouted, tugging on his arm. “rindou, come on. i can’t help it...”

he leaned closer, his face only inches from hers, his voice a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “can’t help it, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing. “guess i’ll have to find a way to keep you entertained, since the movie isn’t cutting it.”

her eyes widened as he settled back in his seat, his hand casually resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her skin. she shot him a look, torn between shock and excitement, but he just kept that same indifferent expression, his gaze focused forward as if nothing unusual was happening.

“rindou,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the movie’s background noise. “people are around...”

he raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at her, his thumb continuing its slow, deliberate movement. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep it together,” he said with a smirk. “don’t blame me for distracting you when you’re the one getting ideas.”

y/n’s heart raced, the weight of their friendship hanging heavy in the silence between them. she knew they were toeing a line, crossing into something unspoken and uncertain, yet she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, the thrill of it mixing with a quiet fear that they couldn’t just come back from this.

she looked up at him, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “you know we probably shouldn’t...”

“probably,” he murmured, his voice steady, but his hand never moved. he glanced down at her, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for her to see something else behind it—a question, a hesitation that matched her own. “but we’re already here, aren’t we?”

they held each other’s gaze, neither of them willing to break the moment, knowing they were treading dangerous ground. but in the dim glow of the theater, with his hand on her thigh and her fingers inching toward his, it felt like a risk they were both willing to take, consequences be damned.

"if you don’t want this, tell me now."

y/n remained quiet and rindou glanced at her, seeing that her gaze was already on him. she reached for his hand, her impatience making her guide him up her thigh a bit more. rindou's eyes widened immediately when we wasn't met with any sort of fabric at all, but the immediate warmth of her sex.

"what the hell, n/n?" he questioned, not moving his hand, but the flustered expression on his face said enough. a shiver coursed through her body as he pressed his digits against her. "please don't question it." she sighed trying to keep her voice low.

"was this your plan this whole time?" he asked and she let out an embarassed groan and rindou felt some pity at that. they'd been bestfriend's since forever and despite his attitude, rindou would drop anything in a second if y/n ever asked. she always came first in every situation, and she knew that. "so you didn't wanna watch this movie afterall?"

she looked at him, nodding her head. "i did, but..." she trailed off. "but you're too focused on this, huh?" just then, his fingers used her slick to slip his middle digit into her sex. she bit down on her inner cheek and her legs tightened around his hand. "what got you all worked up?"

y/n remained silent, avoiding the question. this piqued rindou's interest, making him slide his digits in deeper. y/n let out a shaky breath, trying to not bring attention to themselves, but the more rindou pleasured her, the more she squirmed in her seat. "are you dodging the question, y/n? if you are, I'll stop."

"no, no. don't stop." she pled, looking at rindou with glazed eyes. "then tell me. i have a feeling i know what it is." he shifted himself in his seat. trying to ignore his current situation as well. he thanked the dark lightning in the theater that caused her to not see his growing erection. "i was just wondering how you would feel inside me." she managed to get out.

"it's not very nice to have those kinds of thoughts about your bestfriend, y/n."

"can't help-" she was cut off when his in and out motions quickened. y/n lifted her lips to lean back a bit to slouch in the seat. this newfound position allowed rindou to reach deeper, caressing that sensetive spot that would drive her insane. "you're not being as discreet as you probably should, n/n." a smile appeard on his lips.

"so hurry up." she managed to glare at him and rindou rolled his eyes, focusing back on the movie in front of them. his fingers held no mercy on y/n despite the occasional whimpers that she would try to hide in her palm, the fidgeting of her legs closing around him, and the way her hand gripped his wrist with all the strength in her body. "quicker you come, the quicker you can be quiet." he muttered, tone sounding unbothered.

"i couldn’t care less if anyone figured out what we were doing, but that's all you're worried about, huh, y/n?" he taunted. "too focused on them to come?"

he reached over to y/n, using his freehand to turn her head to him. "you have three minutes. if you can't come before then, I'm stopping."

"what the fuck, rindou?" she shot him a harsh glare and a smile barely made it way to his lips but it was filled with anything but purity. he was the biggest tease ever and y/n knew this but hated that fact that she put it past him especially in situations like these. "come on, n/n. your time is wasting."

he sped his fingers up and y/n held his wrist steady before she grinded down onto his digits. he caressed that pleasure-filled spot once again and she shut her eyes, trying to turn off the rest of her senses.

she heard rindou speaking, but it all sounded muffled to her. if she listened to him, it'll feel all too real and that would throw her in for a loop all over again. his digits felt just right and she thought that if she focused on them enough, she could reach her high in no time.

that was proven to be true when she noticed that he sped up his motions even more, helping her as she continued to ride them, not caring about the other eyes around her. "rindou." she muttered through a whisper. she heard him hum, but she couldn't trust herself to speak at the moment.

instead, she tightly held onto his wrist as she balanced on that familiar edge of pure bliss. "come, n/n." that was all ot took for her to tip over. she tightened her already shut eyes, hoping that she wasn't being too loud. her sounds of pleasure came out as a moan, but it was muffled by a hand that wasn't her own. she felt the cool touch of metal agaisnt her lip and she realized it was from a ring that rindou always wore on his right hand.

"two minutes?" he smiled, watching as she carefully opened her eyes, her chest heaving with a fast pace. "i'm never doing this with you again." she muttered, looking around for a gaze that met her own.

"of course not. that would be crossing the line, right?"

y/n didn’t miss the pure sarcasm in his tone and she hated how she only clenched around his fingers once more so no matter what she would say next, he knew what she felt deep down.

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @eclecticfirewitxh @nemoo888 @ririkavitanitraxova02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @yourefavsakura @karebear5118 @jays-adventure3 @flowerpjimin @thiisisntlovely @kawaiiisis @viviennevianna @slvttics @elmtree12 @ivydoesit23 @jellibean2018 @peehall @pestlaege @junabuggy @hyesworld @hime-honne @kuroaka @kimmi-iii @elssero @lxst-in-mxrdxrlxnd @littlemissfix-itfic @mythraendir @mapletress @todobrosky @amajikisbabygirl @sanriovin @daydreamteardrop @tsukishimasslut @tenwt @meowmeowmau @icyhottodo178 @lightaflaem @insaneclown0408 @raggedypansexual @riririntaro @gojosclassifiedslut @staygoldsquatchling02 @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @luvvmae @anastasiatheloveofyourlife @satoruyes

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arcadia-of-pluto · 6 months ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Chapter One

Pairings; Rafayel x reader, Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader (Love and Deepspace)

Word count; 4,495 (sorry it's so short, I'll try to post three chapters today)

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rated; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; To make things easier to read, I'm going to use emojis for who is texting.

Y/n 🩷

Rafayel 💜

Zayne 💙

Xavier 💛

Sylus ❤️

Hi everyone! This is my first time posting to tumblr so please be gentle with me! If you like this, then let me know! It would be greatly appreciated. My upload schedule will be every weekend (so either fri, sat, or sun!) Also, if the story seems similar, it's going to be verbatim with the story, just with my own embellishments to it. Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

Prev || Next

Masterlist

A bright light shines within the dark room. There you lay in bed, playing a game on your phone late at night before bed. The soft background music coming from your speaker as the game loads up. You press ‘enter game’ as images of three men make their way across your screen, each one holding a special place in your heart.

Who says you need a real man? Fictional men are where it's at. They can't cheat on you, can't leave you, can't lie to you. It's a lot better than having to stress over a real person and worry if they'll leave you the next day or not. You know from experience, having two boyfriends in the past and neither lasting longer than six months- both breaking off the relationship before an anniversary. Screw men– well, besides the three on your screen right now. They were fine. Oh, and the fourth one being added a month from now.

The game loads in and you get a greeting from one of the men on screen. They take turns showing up in the Destiny Café, each able to say hello every time you log in. It was always sweet to see what they'd say, how they'd react, or any new text messages you'd get from them. You could even change their phone nicknames! You had Xavier, the sweet tired and aloof silvery blonde haired man, saved as Princess since you thought it would be cute. He'd definitely be embarrassed if you called him that. Zayne, the seemingly cold childhood friend and doctor, was saved under Snow Angel; you honestly didn't know what to have his name as that but it would just be amusing to see his reaction to it. Then there's Rafayel, the purple haired sassy and charming painter, who was saved as Nemo- again, very original. But Nemo works nonetheless. As you smile and send your daily stickers to each man to see their reaction, you get a new notification at the top of your screen.

“A new message?” You murmur, noticing that it's contact is unknown. The message was coming from the game. “It must be some new event. Weird…I wonder why there wasn't an update for it?” You back out of your message with Rafayel and click on the new message from the unknown sender.

:’Will you enter the game?’

“That's it?” Your brows furrow and you sit up in your bed, your phone lying in your lap as you scratch your head. “Wait..” You click on the message to reply and your keyboard pops up. “That's…” Usually, to reply in game, you get a choice between a few predetermined answers but for this…You just get to answer how you want to?

’What do you mean?’ You text back before reaching over to put your glasses on. Maybe you should've gone to bed earlier, it kind of feels like you're hallucinating.

You hear the chime of another message rolling in, and you look back down at your phone.

:’Yes or no? Hurry and pick one.’

This time the keyboard doesn't pop up, you only get three options.

ロ Yes

ロ No

And…

ロ Why?

You don't even think twice before pressing why, and the answer comes back quicker than you expect.

:’Please take care of them for me.’

You let out a scoff before running a hand through your hair. This must be some sort of elaborate prank. There's no way this is a part of the game, and even if it were there'd be no explanation for it. Is this the dev's way of getting back at you for sending so many support requests? Before you can think much about it, suddenly you feel more sleepy than before. Your eyes tiredly blink as you try to grab your phone to at least plug it up and get off of the game before you fall asleep, but instead you're lulled to sleep by the soft, melodic tune of Love and Deepspace.

Then a light so bright that it burns your eyes even though they're closed appears. It's hard to even force your eyes open, but when you do, you notice it's a big, deep crimson eye. Similar to the one you'd see in game. Your blood runs cold as you try to look around this unfamiliar area, but all you see is darkness. A dream? Yeah..this must be a dream. Although you've never been able to actively move in a dream before, there's a first for everything!

Right when you finally calm yourself down, you hear it. A loud explosion, the feeling of embers licking at your skin. Your ears are ringing, and you feel a sharp pain on the right side of your face. The darkness fades, and you're left with the blinding light of the sun against your back and your body lying on a pavement. Just lifting your head up to look at your surroundings feels like an extreme workout, everything about your body feels heavy. Sluggish. Though your left eye widens as you realize you're laying in front of a burning building. Something shining in the sunlight catches your eye, and once you grab the object, you find it harder to breathe. It was a dog tag with a charm on it. An apple charm with a star design in the center, and in the center of that was a ruby gemstone. The words ‘When U come back’ were written in cursive on the dog tag.

“No way..” you manage to croak out, the necklace clutched in your hand as you try to push yourself up, but the pounding in your head and the pain coming from your eye are no match, and you end up laying face down on the pavement in front of the burning home until you pass out from the pain.

Being passed out had its perks. You finally had a chance to think and put together a few puzzle pieces before you woke up. So if memory serves, what just happened was your- no, the main character's childhood home just blew up right after her best friend and basically brother Caleb stepped inside and her grandma, who adopted them both, was inside as well. They both died, and supposedly a mafia-like group called Onychinus was behind it because they were tying up loose ends as Grandma was a former researcher and scientist, experimenting on children and modifying them with aether cores. But the main character wasn't badly injured after the explosion, which never made sense honestly. You're that close to a building exploding, and you only get off with trauma and minor scrapes? That doesn't seem right…and honestly, the pain made it feel all the more real. If you were in a dream, that pain most likely would've woken you up.

So coming to terms that you're inside of the game was a bit easier that way. Though the bigger problem lies with your evol. You wouldn't even know the first step to using it, let alone resonating with another person. And firearm training. You've never shot a gun before, but you did take self defense and fighting lessons a few years back, but you can't exactly punch a wanderer. They're durable monsters that can shoot ice or anything at you and, some even have blades for arms…

“Great, it seems like she's waking up now.” You hear the deep, yet cold voice of a man. Then, you hear the higher pitched voice of a woman, “Finally! It's been three days, I just hope she doesn't insist on going back to work..” “She won't, doctor's orders.” The male voice says before you hear a door close.

Your eye slowly opens before you have to squint to adjust it to the bright white lights. A hospital? You try to sit up and the woman next to you rushes to help you. You have to turn your head to look at her since she's on your right side. Your right eye was also bandaged since all you can see is darkness out of it. The first thing you notice is her short bob cut. “Tara?” You say, your voice sounding a bit raspy and you tilt your head to the side. “Thank goodness, Y/n! We thought you'd never wake up.” She seems excited, bubbly and sweet…just like her character in game.

“That's..” Before you can finish your sentence, you start coughing. “Here, let me get you some water!” She hands you a plastic cup and you take a sip before continuing, “I…can't remember much.” You squeeze your hand in a fist, the sound of metal clinking together has you looking down at your hand. “You never let go of that. You've been holding it since..” Tara trails off and you're caught off guard by a sudden surge of emotions. You take a shaky breath as to not start crying, since that would definitely hurt your right eye before you look up at the ceiling. “I don't recall how to use my evol, how to shoot a gun…Can I still even call myself a hunter?”

“Y/n…” Tara sighs before taking your free hand, “Things can always be retaught, we're all just glad you survived. You should be glad to still have both eyes being that close to the explosion!” She smiled at you before handing you your phone. “I can't stay here long, but your phone has been blowing up for the past three days so make sure you check it out.” She pats your hand and stands up. “I'll visit later with a coffee or something for you.”

“The patient is advised to not have anything caffeinated until after being discharged.” A voice comes from the door before he steps inside.

Black hair, glasses, hazel green eyes, tall…

“Doctor Zayne,” I greet him with a small smile, suddenly more nervous and I turn to look at Tara. “I'll see you tomorrow, Tara?”

“Sure! That is, if I don't get a call about a wanderer..Metaflux readings have been crazy as of late, so we've all been pretty busy- but that's not to push you into coming in or anything! Your health matters more to us at UNICORNS so only come back when you're ready.” She says before leaving the room.

“How are you feeling?” Zayne asks as he comes closer, taking a seat where Tara once was. His eyes scan your whole body to make sure you're okay before landing on your face. He leans forward to take the bandage off of your right eye and you wince at how bright the light is for your non-adjusted eye. “It'll probably scar..” he murmurs, presumably to himself.

“I'm..” You trail off, sighing before you decide it's best to tell the doctor the truth. “I'm fine, but I can't remember-”

“Can't remember what?” He cuts you off, almost seeming more worried about just what you can't remember, which makes you laugh a bit. “Calm down, I was getting to that. I can't remember how to use my evol, use my gun, or anything to do with wanderers.” “Hmm..are you sure it won't come back with time?” Zayne seems to have calmed back down as he's now writing everything down on a clipboard. “I'm sure of that.” You clear your throat, looking back down at the necklace in your hand before running your thumb across it.

“I don't mind relearning everything but I won't be as good as I was before, that's for sure.” You lean your head back and Zayne quickly corrects you, gently tilting your chin back down. “If your wound reopens, we'll have to use stitches so be careful.”

“You'll get better at it in no time. Don't forget that I'll help you out.” Zayne says before standing up. You take a glance at the clipboard and it seems like he added ‘post traumatic stress disorder?’ as a note. You guess he assumes your forgetfulness might be caused by that, but you knew otherwise. “I'll leave you so you can check up on your phone.”

With that, the doctor leaves the room and you can finally let out a sigh of relief. It seems he didn't notice anything was off with you. He was honestly the hardest hurdle since he's known the main character for a long time, but you've noticed you tend to act like her to begin with so maybe it wouldn't be as hard as you thought.

You finally decide to put the necklace down on the table next to you, your hand aching from having held it so tightly and grab your phone. There was no code on it so you easy got into it, might as well put a code on it now..and now you go to check your messages. 45 missed calls from Nemo…Nemo? Your brows furrow and you flinch because, of course, that hurts the wound on your face so you quickly straighten your face out. The nicknames are the same as they were in your game. 11 missed calls from Princess, 55 missed messages from Nemo, and 5 missed messages from Princess. Zayne didn't leave any since he works at the hospital… though on the day of the incident, he did leave two missed calls and a reminder of a doctor's appointment.

You decide to check up with Rafayel first since he's a certified drama queen. You don't scroll too far up but the most recent text messages are just him being pouty that his ‘miss bodyguard’ is ignoring him.

🩷 :’Been in the hospital for three days, sorry!’

You decide that's sufficient of an answer before nearly jumping out of your skin as he immediately calls. You laugh before answering the call, being bombarded with questions the moment you press the green button.

“Which hospital, Miss bodyguard? What happened? Are you okay?”

“One question at a time.” You laugh before you start coughing and have to take another sip of water from the plastic cup. Your throat was a bit achy from not being used for three days.

“Which hospital?” Rafayel sticks with his first question, his voice void of his usual playful banter. “Uhm..” you look around for a moment, not exactly remembering the name of the hospital in game before spotting its name on the whiteboard in front of you. “Akso Hospital, room 205.”

“Got it.” Then silence. “Uh…Rafayel?” You say, taking the phone away from your face to notice he had already hung up. You shrug it off before going to your messages with Xavier. Most of the messages were just asking if you wanted to go hunting with him, sending locations, and the most recent one was from a few hours ago with him asking if you were okay.

🩷 :’At the hospital right now, been out for three days! Sorry about that. I might need some help soon though.’

Xavier doesn't immediately call like Rafayel did, instead just exchanges a few texts with you.

💛 :’what happened? are U alright? is it’

🩷 :’Is it what? I'm fine, a bit sore though. I got caught up in an explosion three days ago and have been out since then.’

💛 :’..nevermind that how can U be okay if u were passed out for 3 days? what's the extent of your injuries?’

🩷 :’Just a few bruises, scrapes, a sprained ankle, and…’

💛 :’and what?’

🩷 :’I might have a cool new scar over my eye!’

💛 :’thats not funny..what hospital, i'm coming now.’

You pause your messages, knowing he definitely can't come now if Rafayel is. None of the love interests have ever interacted in the game before, so you're not sure of the consequences just yet.

🩷 :’I'm probably about to sleep again! You can visit tomorrow, the doc gave me some pain medicine that's making me a bit tired and I wanted to talk to you.’

💛 :’alright as long as ur okay. i can wait as long as you need.’

You pout, trying your best not to gush over how sweet Xavier is, and drop your phone as your room door suddenly opens to reveal an exhausted looking, purple haired man. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned, his hair tousled as if he just got out of bed, and panic written all over his face.

“You didn't think to describe the details of your injuries to me?” Are the first words out of his mouth before he shuts the door behind him, walking deeper in the room to grab your plastic cup to drink some water. “You've been out for three days, you shouldn't even be sitting up right now!” He sits down on the chair next to the bed and you reach toward him to try and fix his shirt buttons. The tips of his ears turn red and he pushes backward on the rolling chair. “What're you doing- you're a patient.”

“Your shirt..” You drop your hands into your lap with a small smile.

“Oh-” Rafayel clears his throat, turning the chair to fix his shirt before he rolls the chair back up next to you. With his hand gently cupping the right side of your face, he murmurs, “How did this happen?”

You assume he's probably in shock since you were never scarred like this in any of the past lives you shared with him.

“An explosion from my..” You trail off, lips pressing together in a thin line as you find it hard to say what happened, even though you know they're not your actual family. “..my childhood home. Two casualties.” You finally finish your sentence, not meeting Rafayel's bluish pink eyes as he still cups your cheek.

The silence is almost deafening before Rafayel sighs and drops his hand. “I'm sorry for your loss.” He finally says. “Do you need a hug?”

You quickly shake your head. “If I hug you, I'll cry and I really don't need to..irritate my…” You can't seem to get your words out as your eyes water and no matter how hard you try to stop it, your cheek stings as salty tears run down your still healing wound. Rafayel moves to sit on the side of the bed, guiding your forehead to rest against his shoulder as his arms wrap around you. “We can always get your doctor to fix it, huh? It won't do you any good if you keep your feelings all bottled up now, will it?”

You can't seem to stop crying, even as your breath stutters in your chest and you find it harder to breathe. Sure, you cried when they died while playing but for it to affect you like this? Maybe it's because someone offered to be a shoulder you could lean on.

“Focus on my breathing. Don't hyperventilate on me now, miss bodyguard.” Rafayel murmurs, hand still patting your back as your tears eventually fade and you fall asleep.

Rafayel pulls you back from his shoulder, moving you so you're laid flat on the bed before he grabs a soft tissue to wipe your face, wiping the trail of blood coming from your wound since the salt from your tears irritated it. He then leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I'll see you soon.”

The next time you wake up, your eyes are puffy and your nose is stopped up.

“I see you cried yourself to sleep.” Zayne comments, tilting your head by your chin so he can examine your wound. “You irritated it.” He sighs. “If you don't cry anymore, it'll probably be healed up in two weeks..then you can cry all you want.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I had to cry.” You say with a pout, knowing it's not his fault. “When can I be discharged?”

“After today, your ankle should be better to walk on so tomorrow? But if you want to start work again, I'd say another few weeks.” Zayne finishes writing something down before standing up. “I also did a routine checkup on your heart in case that was the reason you can't use your evol and I don't think that's the case. I believe your evol revolves around your emotions so if you're not confident in it, it won't work.”

“Thank you, Zayne.” You say before taking a sip of the iced coffee that Tara left for you thirty minutes ago. Then you finally shoot Xavier a text to say he's free to come to the hospital whenever he wants, that you'll be discharged tomorrow.

Not even a minute after you sent your message, there was a knock on your door. You look toward the noise before smiling behind your hand. “Come in.”

A silvery blond head pops in from the now opened door before he comes in and shuts the door behind him. “How are you feeling today?” He asks, his soft tired voice sounding a bit more emotional than usual. “Mmh, pretty good. I'd probably feel better if you came a bit closer.” You say, leaning over to pat the chair next to your bed. He quickly comes to sit down, almost as if waiting for the invitation.

“Your eyes are swollen. Did you have a rough sleep last night?”

“No, I..” it's probably best to keep telling the truth for now. “I just cried myself to sleep.” You shrug, trying to play it off as nothing but Xavier isn't falling for it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I cry myself to sleep again, will you hold me?” You ask, raising your left brow before laughing to yourself. “Just thinking about what happened, not being able to save anyone, getting hurt like this…” You feel a hand on top of your own and turn to look at Xavier. “It's not your fault.” He finally says after a moment of silence. A small smile tugging at his lips before he changes the subject, “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh right!” You sit up before turning your body to face him. “I need you to teach me how to use my gun…and how to fight….aannnd how to use my evol.” You name off each one and tap on your fingers to count them off.

“You..forgot all of that?” His head tilts to the side before he nods his head. “Alright, I can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

“Uh…can you pick me up tomorrow? I don't know where our apartments are…or how to drive my bike either.” You rub the back of your neck and smile sheepishly.

“What else did you forget?” He lets out a small laugh.

“All of Linkon?” You say before adding, “I mean, I remember names but I don't remember where anything is..like Azure Square, UNICORNS HQ, Twinkle Toys, Meow's Café..”

“Don't worry, I'll help with anything I can.” Xavier smiles, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” You smile before looking down at your phone as it buzzes. Rafayel. He's- on his way?

“Actually, could you get me a friend for tomorrow?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips. “A..friend?” His head tilts to the side until you say, “Can you get me a fox plushie and bring it to me when I'm discharged tomorrow?”

“I-” Xavier laughs before nodding, “Of course I will.” He stands up, looking toward the door. “I'll leave now though, since you seem a bit restless, but I'll make sure you get all the plushies you want.”

Not even five minutes after Xavier leaves, Rafayel is in the room. Almost as if he felt a disturbance in the force that someone was with his lady right now. “Was someone just here?” He asks, trying to act nonchalant as he sits down in the chair.

“No?” You phrase it as a question before you nod your head. “Yeah, the doctor just left. He was upset that I irritated my wound but, at least, I'll be discharged tomorrow! I can't go back to work for another two weeks though.”

“So does that mean my bodyguard is still out of commission?” Rafayel pouts, a hand on his hip. “Well, that's a shame. I had an art expo to go to in a few days and I was wondering if you'd join me.” “Ah…about that,” you clear your throat before telling him all about the troubles with your evol and even not recalling how to use a gun. “Why don't you try resonating now?” He asks, placing his hand on top of yours. “But what do I even do?” You murmur, closing your eyes.

“Do you feel all of that energy coursing through your chest? Try to direct that through your body to your fingers.” Rafayel whispers. “Think of it like paint. If you pour paint on a flat canvas, it spreads all out like crazy. You have to take a paintbrush and direct the paint to where you want it to go. So your evol is the paint and you are the paintbrush.”

That…helps but doesn't help at the same time.

You take a deep breath, trying to silence your mind to be able to focus but it's difficult to have dead silent thoughts. Instead you try to imagine the energy moving from your chest all the way to your hands, which were clasped between Rafayel's much bigger ones. Then, you finally felt it. You were resonati-

You flinch as you’re bombarded with a few blurry memories of your past life with Rafayel; Well, if you didn't know, you would've just been confused but since you played the game, you knew they were of your past lives with him. Though they were blurry, so you didn't catch anything besides a soft ‘my bride’ at the end.

My eyes blink open and you take one hand away from Rafayel to rub your temples. “I think it worked but..” you look at Rafayel, who was uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he saw the same images too?

“Hey, did you see it too?” You ask, which finally gets his attention. “Huh, see what?” He tries to brush it off but you don't let him. “It was kind of blurry but I remember seeing you…in a purple outfit? Oh and you said something at the end.” You tap your bottom lip with your index finger, pretending to try and recall what you saw when, in reality, you only saw a blurry Rafayel. You never saw specific details like that. “You said my bri-”

Rafayel covers your mouth with a hand. “That's enough of that.” His ears were red and he wasn't looking you in the eyes. Then he clears his throat. “Anyway, I'll contact you soon about the expo since you seem to resonate just fine and then maybe I can show you around Linkon City to try and jog your memory.”

He leaves as quickly as he showed up, clearly embarrassed by what you were going to say.

“Cute..” you say to yourself, laughing into your hand before wincing and touching the right side of your face.

---------------------------------------------------

That's it for the first chapter! Since I wrote this on goggle docs, I wasn't sure just how short the chapters were but they'll get longer as we go on! I have a few chapters piled up so even if I don't write for a few weeks, I'll still be able to post. I'd love any feedback or even any explanations of the features on here to make the reading experience a bit better. I've never posted to Tumblr before so I've been just copying what I see from the tags and word count so I think I've done pretty well for my first time. I would love to learn how to do a masterlist though and also a next button, I guess I just have to link the next chapter on it? I'll have to test it out so please bear with me and I hope you enjoyed- and stick around for the chapters to come! 🩷

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heeliopheelia · 2 years ago

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"please, come to bed" (heeseung x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.6k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: it's 2am so i'm striking with another update lmao 💜 is2g after i'm done with this event you guys will be throwing up at the slightest mention of a heeseung drabble

Stopping dead in his tracks, Heeseung looks at you with confusion. He's just come back from work only to see your curled up posture on the couch, one that you have once claimed to hate sleeping on, which makes him wonder if he did anything to annoy you to such degree today. Silently, he runs over every little thing he's said to you, considering how or why could they make you so angry that you didn't want to sleep with him tonight.

He gives up eventually and walks up to you with a sigh. His tall figure steps in front of you, disturbing you from watching the newest episode of your favorite tv show. You peek up at him from above the blanket covering you from your feet all the way up to your nose.

"Oh, you're back!' You gasp happily, dropping the blanket down to stretch your arms out in a form of a hug invitation.

There's not even the slightest tint of anger in your voice which slightly calms Heeseung's nerves. He plops down next to you, instantly wrapping his arms around your smaller body.

Then he asks, clearly still bothered. "Why don't you wanna sleep with me tonight? Your back is gonna hurt from the couch again."

You internally coo at his worried face, big deer eyes peering at you with confusion. You smile sheepishly.

"There's a spider in our bedroom."

A spider. In our bedroom. It takes him couple seconds to even process your words properly. All of the tension leaves his body like air from a pierced balloon and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.

"And here I was worrying that I said something wrong or shit," he sighs, glancing at your pleading face from the corner of his eyes. He sighs again. "Fine. I'll be right back."

"Just don't kill it!" You call after him, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Catch it and let it out, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," he dismisses you with a wave of his hand before disappearing behind the wall.

You wait patiently for him to come back, wiggling your feet happily as you realize you'll actually be able to fall sleep tonight without having to stress about this little anomaly.

"There's no spider in here, YN!"

Your blood runs cold. What does he mean no spider. It was there half an hour ago, carelessly dangling from your ceiling right above your pillow.

You're still stiff when Heeseung comes back from the bedroom and crouches down in front of you. Placing his hands on your knees and squeezing them gently, he brings your attention back to him.

"You sure you didn't imagine it?"

His question has you scoffing and you cross your arms over your chest. "Yes, I'm sure," you say, squinting your eyes at him. He only rolls his own pair at your dramatic behavior. "Have you really checked everywhere?"

"Every single corner," he assures, placing his palm on his chest, right where the heart beats underneath his skin. "I promise it's not there. Must've ran away or something."

You stubbornly shake your head. "I'm not going anywhere. Heeseung, there's a beast roaming around our bedroom somewhere."

"Lord, give me patience," he murmurs quietly, deflating underneath your hard expression again. "Love, just please, come to bed," he groans, slowly giving up on the idea of actually getting any sleep tonight. He drops his head down on your lap. "I swear it won't come near you, alright? I'll tuck you in so tightly that it won't even find a place to slip underneath the covers."

You sigh, grabbing his hand hopefully. "You promise?"

He raises back to his feet, leaning down to press a kiss on your pouty lips. "I promise."

He lets out an internal cheer when you finally nod your head. Heeseung pecks your lips again, then repeats the gesture a little more fervently couple more times before slipping an arm underneath your knees and throwing you over his shoulder. He smacks your butt gently, earning an annoyed combo of a groan and a click of your tongue from you.

"Now, let's finally go to bed. I swear I haven't had a good night's sleep ever since I met you."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin @ramenoil

#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines

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ryozakidesu · 2 years ago

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diary of the heartbreakers;

00z series

╰┈➤ Diary of the Heartbreakers; 00z series

➸ ♡ They used to be the ones breaking hearts, but when karma comes around, suddenly the don't know what to do. Navigate through college life with your favorite idiots, and read through the Diary of the Heartbreakers.

GENRES: College AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Humour

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, drug abuse, Infidelity, Toxic relationships/characters, Heavy topics discussed, player!00z, Language and Violence.

AUTHOR's NOTE: I thought long and hard about making this a series, because of my commitment issues and I don't trust myself to commit to a writing project like this TT, But since I have story ideas for these characters, (00z) I just linked all of them together. SLOW UPDATE. Also my first time doing a series, how about that?!? I hope you guys like it!

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

╰┈➤ After You

➸ ♡ Na Jaemin had it easy. Loved by everybody, the man of everyone's dream. He's a perfect mix of a charmer and a player. Girls begged to be his, and he loved every part of it. Life used to be so fucking perfect for him. Then comes you. You're like an old book, ink fading, cover tearing, but he swears you're worth the read. Before you, life was easy. After you? He wasn't so sure.

"Break my heart, and you'll find yourself inside."

GENRE: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mature themes

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, Language, Mental Illness, Drugs/Alcohol usage, toxic!reader, fuckboy!Jaemin (but still a sweetheart)

AUTHOR's NOTE: Oh, this one's heavy. Much serious than the other stories and quite one that's holds some sensitive topics. If I get some things wrong about certain topics, please do tell me and I'll quickly correct it. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 15k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ Yours, Inevitably

➸ ♡ To say that Lee Jeno is pretty would be an understatement. The man's gorgeous. One thing he uses to his advantage, going through college getting girls he spots his eyes on. But there's one he just couldn't get. His brother's bestfriend. You can continue and avoid your feelings for each other, but eventually, it'll happen. You were someone that stayed, a constant in his life. You might not know it, but for the years you've known Lee Jeno, he slowly became yours, inevitably.

"I should've known that it was you, because no one else made sense."

GENRE: Fluff, Angst, Humour, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Explicit sexual content, Language, Alcohol usage, Mentions of Drugs, fuckboy!Jeno, brothersbsf!reader

AUTHOR's NOTE: This story was collecting dust on my drafts for so longg! Originally I was gonna post it as a stand-alone but figured it made sense to be a part of this series. One of my faves. Also lots of other members of nct mentioned. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 13k - 15k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ The Fine Art of Rejection

➸ ♡ Huang Renjun, the sweetie of the year, is one hard star to catch. Not as easy as his other friends, he's quite difficult to have. Although he has a fair share of affairs with girls, it is considered to be a rare occurence. But you? Oh boy were you something. You were quite head over heels over him. His friends could never understand, but you were persistent to get the boy. No matter how much he refuses your advances, Its like you found art in rejection. But to what degree can you hold it out?

"I can be everything I want, but fuck, I only wanted to be yours. Even though you couldn't be mine."

GENRE: Unrequited love, Humour, Fluff, Angst, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Alcohol Usage, cheerleader!reader, Renjun is sometimes rude lol

AUTHOR's NOTE: Actually, I wanted to write something pure fluffy for Renjun, but I figured I need to put a sprinkle (more than that actually lmao) of angst. Also my favorite plot to write. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 13k

STATUS: published

╰┈➤ Illicit Affairs

➸ ♡ Infamous for being every girl's guilty pleasure, Lee Haechan strutted through his life shamelessly. But recently, the new girl caught his eye. Im Hayeon, who he believes that would finally tame his wreckless heart. He was confident he could get the girl. And when he did, he never expected her to have baggages. For example, you, Im Hayeon's best friend. Who suddenly, sparked an idea on his pretty little head. You're trouble-- and you're making Haechan commit Illicit Affairs.

"You're making me do bad things, very, bad things. But then again, I'm no stranger in being the bad guy."

GENRE: Fluff, Angst, Humour, Smut

WARNINGS: Minors DNI, Language, Explicit sexual content, Alcohol Usage, Infidelity, Haechan and reader is kind of an asshole

AUTHOR's NOTE: okay, for one, i don't condone cheating. its just for the story! also i won't tackle on it too much-- literally just for the plot. Enjoy reading!

Expected WC: 13k

STATUS: published

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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shuenkio · 8 months ago

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Admire not from afar | Enha Hyung line

Paring: hyung-line x male!reader

Genre: Suggestive.

Cw: swearing, fantasize.

Pov: Co-workers having obsession admire at you.

Wc: 400+

Non proof read/ English is not my 1st lang.

Lhs: Nerdy-quite guy who would stalk your social media, having your face on his wallpaper, while bragging to his friends that you're his one and only boyfriend, even though it's not true.

It's getting out of hand when you realize that he's the one who left those unknown, randomly given gifts in your locker every single morning. Eventually you started to ignore and avoid him at all costs, to the point that when you went home from work one day, you found him there, sitting while crossing his leg as he lean against the wooden chair inside your apartment.

"Hello, baby boy, I see you avoiding me, so I'd like to pay you a visit. How do you like that?"

Pjs: Everyone praises him not because of his potential or talents in the workplace; it's because he's related to the CEO of the company. You hate people who are overpowered by their money and not their own work, so you're brave enough to say what comes to mind when they make a mistake.

Finally, you just got yourself into trouble; however, since he liked you enough to spare your life, he had another plan.

While going to the bathroom to wash your dirty hands, you suddenly feel a pair of hands grab your forearm before pulling you inside the bathroom stall, locking the door at instant.

"You've been a really bad boy lately, Mn! How dumb are you to not realize I'm your crazy secret Santa? Now you're going to pay for your consequences, darling."

Sjy: The happiest guy is everyone's lifesaver and lover. Whenever there's a problem in the company, he'll always be there to fix the issue using his sexy brain in a blink of an eye. As a new employee, you were impressed at how much the other workers liked him, and the answer is quite obvious.

Little did you know, not all good guys are innocent and nice; Jake also had his dark side too. He likes to take advantage of new employees like you, and at the end of the day, he'll throw them out as if they were some pieces of used trash.

Nevertheless, when he laid eyes on you, it seemed like he couldn't stop thinking about you; you're that special to make him head over heels for you that bad.

Late at night, as you take the elevator to the ground floor, Jake is also in the elevator, and you never know what will happen.

"Mn, you might think I'm all bright and amazing, but did you know that every time I see you, I love fantasizing about you being under me?"

Psh: This guy was cold as ice; no wonder he's the best employee of the month almost every single time, despite how hard he's working alone. Regardless of being friends with him for so long, you still don't know his personal life, his daily routine, or his inside. You couldn't care much since you respect his decision to keep himself.

But the reason why he won't let you visit him at his apartment is because all your pictures that he's captured every chance he's gotten were pinned and spread all over his room like a crime detective investigation. Not only is he obsessed, he already had plan B if you said no to his confession one day.

"I'd give up heaven if I had to make you mine, little man."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ I can't imagine makenae line going to work like what 🤓 Anyway this is my last updated this week, since I have another exam next week, so I'll come back once I'm alive again!

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skeletondeerart · 3 months ago

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Sacred Waters, Sacred Hearts Chapter 1

A Male OC! Metkayina x Fem Human! Reader | Word Count: 1722

Masterlist & join the taglist

A/N : Both Rukan and reader are in their mid 20's

" " = direct speech | ' ' = Metkayina sign language | Bold = English

Another night approaches as multiple moons emerge from the waves. I adjust my mask, ensuring it's sealed to my cheeks, as I shuffle off my light shawl, leaving just my wetsuit and waterproof tablet. The morning winds nip at my exposed skin, and I make haste into the reef, gracefully submerging myself and diving down to the reef bed to escape the chill of the evening.

I was one of the last marine biologists left on Pandora after the fall of the Omatikaya's Hometree, yet by the grace of Eywa I was taken into her embrace and was allowed to live amongst the flora and fauna. I now reside on the coastline a couple hours from the Metkayina settlements; respecting the ocean-dwelling Navi immensely, I made sure to leave them alone and stay in my small corner of the ocean; content with just researching and documenting the underwater flora and fauna. Though I may seem isolated here on my lonesome I do make frequent calls to Norm and Max to update their data files, ordering human supplies or just for a chat yet sometimes I yearn for someone else to share my experiences with...

Weaving through bioluminescent kelp, flippers boost me through the currents I glide to a halt and unsheathe my switchblade to harvest some vegetation and check on the coral's health. Happy with the healthy flora and the harvest I document photos for my log and bask in the temperate waters. I smile at the stillness from the ocean bed, turning onto my back and gazing up through the water's surface, mesmerised by the reflection of light shimmering across the lapping waves from below.

Eventually, my lungs begin to burn yearning for oxygen, and I move to breach the surface, breaking the water tension my mask immediately intakes the Pandoran air and swiftly converts it to plain oxygen. As I catch my breath, I watch Ilu ride the waves and birds dive into the ocean to nab up small fish for their dinner. My stomach rumbles at the through and my mind drifts back to the edible vegetation in my pouch, I paddle back to shore and squeeze the water from my hair before I begin stoking a fire to roast my own dinner.

Time gets away from me as I continue to do tasks onshore like chopping wood and transferring files into the databank. My thoughts are disturbed by a shrill ring, Norm's contact blaring from my tablet. I quickly accept it as Norm appears on the screen; giving a curt wave before he started speaking.

"Hey (Y/n), how are you? Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, but I have a favour to ask." He rambles, arms gesturing awkwardly.

"Uh, nah I'm not doing much; how can I help ya Norm?" I say absent-mindedly as I continue weaving a new blanket, preparing for the cooler weather.

"Mo'at needs some specific medicinal herbs, but they can only be found in the deeper parts of the reef bed. Considering you're now quite an adept diver I thought to ask you first before connecting with the Metkayina traders."

"Oh yeah no problem, I'll duck out in a moment and get that heading your way no problem" I smile as I stand to pull my wetsuit back on from its drying rack.

Norm rubs his nape and bows his head in gratitude "I can't thank you enough (Y/n) just text me when you're done so I can send someone out there to collect the goods"

"Easy, I'll get back to you soon, but if you don't hear back by tomorrow afternoon assume I drowned" I laugh in jest.

I watch as Norm scrunches his face in horror "Don't make me come over there for a welfare check buddy, because I will! I swear it." Norm sighs exasperated by my words wagging his finger to the camera.

"Oh, I'm just kidding Normie; have some faith in me will ya." I giggle as I slip the thick fabric up my torso, Navi stripes adorn the fabric, mimicking the Metkayina's camouflage.

"How many times have I asked you to quit it with the 'Normie'…" Norm scolds but it holds no venom at all. "Look, you better update me straight away ok! I got to go; Max needs some help in the lab, see ya (Y/n)." He waves and disconnects as I wave goodbye myself.

I release a sigh as I take a final note of all the things I need and make sure my mask is free from damage as I set out. I walk out of the airlock to the edge of the mangroves and leap into the deeper portion, my vision is hindered by a myriad of bubbles for a moment before settling down, I begin the descent into the sandbank, I had no need for a flashlight due to the high concentration of bioluminescence, I glide through the waters and corals with ease and gradually letting some oxygen in through my air tank, I only used it for longer expeditions as I like to train my lung capacity.

I swim further from my base, lowering my altitude as I dive into a stunning deep cave. I spotted the herbs; it looked like sea moss; excellent in curing skin ailments when ground into a salve. I push faster through the currents and into the jagged coral formation that the moss grew on, not seeing the signature Metkayina markers for a protected area... I peeled it from its roots and placed it into a leather pouch, deeming it enough I turned to make my way back out, but I was stunned into silence as a massive shadow passed by the gaps in the coral.

It was an Akula…a massive shark-like beast who not even the Navi deem as a friend. My lungs constricted as I limited agitating the water around me. I waited with bated breath as the Akula swam circles around the exit, I peered timidly out as I no longer detect its presence. So, I make the decision to slowly rise to the entrance of the cave. I make the dash, but the Akula notices the disruption and flings itself in my direction, a terrified gargle escapes my throat as I weave hastily through the outcrops narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.

In my adrenaline-fueled state, I didn't notice another join the fray. Until a muffled roar is heard from the Akula as it flees back deeper into the cave system. I burrow myself into the coral hiding from my painful death as I go to release more oxygen into my mask, my hands fumble with a pierced tube and my eyes widen in realisation.

My oxygen supply is drained and I'm so far from the surface.

My panic only spikes further as piercing blue eyes peer down at me cuddled up in the coral like a child.

It was a Metkayina patroller, he was mounted on an Ilu as he scowled in my direction, his rapid signing not going unnoticed.

I gingerly raise my hand and sign 'I mean no harm. I'm with the Omaticaya, gathering medicinal herbs for our injured, but can you help me to the surface I need to breathe…'

He shook his head frustrated but for a moment I could see the disbelief in his eyes at my fluency. 'You do not belong here tawtute, let alone in a protected area, go back to the forest.' But his eyes soften when he sees me start to go blue, my eyes pleading as I point to the surface. He sighs exasperated as he snatches my arm and hauls me into his chest atop his Ilu, jetting to the surface. My vision gets splotchy as we break the water, my mask luckily taking in the air again with no issue.

As I fill my strained lungs again, I'm abruptly shoved off the Ilu and dunk under momentarily pouting as I surface and gazing up at the Navi with a smug look on his face. He points his finger at me.

"Do not touch tawtute, it is a protected site and you're too close to the village" he states, shaking his head. "Go" He states his finned arm pointing back to shore.

"Sorry I didn't see the marker, I'll stay away, promise." I put up my pinky finger momentarily before realising he wouldn't know what it meant. He leans back, a hairless brow raising in suspicion.

"Silly tawtute…" He mutters under his breath before urging again "I'll accompany you home just to make sure that Akula leaves you be. I don't want your pitiful death on my conscience." He states "But you're swimming yourself…"

I laugh "Fine by me" I say before setting back on course. I paddle on the water's surface beside the Metkayina on his Ilu, swimming in silence for most of the way. I'm broken out of my thoughts as his words pierce the silence.

"What are those on your feet…" He questioned, with an ounce of curiosity evident in his tone. I gaze back for a moment checking for any foreign matter.

"Flippers. Helps me swim faster and easier, kind of how your feet and tail help you through the water." I say casually, lifting one from the water to flaunt it with a smile, his face scrunching up as water flicks him in the face.

"I see…" His words were cut short as my home was spotted over the water. Nestled into the mangroves and covered in my hand-woven cloths and netting.

"Well, here's my stop" I sigh as I pull myself up into the mangroves and onto the net platforming.

A curious hum leaves his throat as he gazes at my abode. "Looks somewhat like our villages… yet so tawtute." He mumbles scratching at his nape.

Honestly, over the past hour, I have grown fondness for this Navi. I can't help but blurt out "(Y/n)." His eyes shoot to me confused. "My name… it's uh (Y/n)" I state my cheeks flushing.

"(Y/n)…" He takes a moment letting my name digest "Rukan…" he replies before abruptly diving on his Ilu and swimming off in the direction of the village.

"Rukan…. What a nice name" I smile before heading inside to preserve the moss and notifying Norm of a successful expedition.

Enjoy the next chapter in my Masterlist! & join the taglist

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pissclump · 2 months ago

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This Is Gonna Get Worse Before It Gets Better

Chapter 1

HIIIIIII!! This is my first attempt at writing a multiple part fic with an actual story line, so if it sucks, PLEASE tell me. My original plan for the story was a Toby x Reader, but I may end up making it a Toby, Masky, and Hoodie x Reader. Anyways, I'll try to update as regularly as I can. Reader is depicted as female. This story is cross posted on my AO3 as well: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61232158/chapters/156483289 <3

Warnings: swearing, use of cigarettes, violence, eventual smut in later chapters

A frustrated groan escaped your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair. As if being a broke college student wasn't bad enough, you also had treacherous amounts of homework. Your evenings were usually spent with Kimberly, your roommate who quickly turned into a close friend. It didn't matter if you were out all night or just staying home doing nothing, you were content as long as you were in her presence. Tonight, however was different. Kimberly has been gone all day. And she won't be back for the next two. She said she was feeling homesick and insisted going back home to stay with her parents for the weekend. You were bummed about her being gone all weekend, but you knew it would be selfish to attempt talking her out of it. Which is how you ended up in your current situation; sitting on your couch with your laptop attempting pointless assignments until you eventually give up and submit whatever half-assed effort you gave. After at least three hours of repeating the same cycle, you finally had enough. In almost an instant, you slammed your laptop shut, setting it aside.

You stood up from your couch and stretched. Sitting in one place for so long can make you cramp sometimes. You're almost used to it by now. You walked into your room and grabbed the first pair of shoes you could find before leaving your tiny apartment. The stress from school never failed to steadily increase your need for nicotine. Luckily, your usual gas station was only about a five minute walk from home, so there was no need to take your car and waste gas. Swinging the door open, you were met with the smell of cheap air freshener. Behind the counter sat just the man you wanted to see. Mr. Kurtz was always a delight to talk to. He also had no problem selling you cigarettes despite the fact that you weren't legally old enough for them yet. You're only a year away from being 21, it's really not that big of a deal, is it?

"There she is! Haven't seen you all week. How have you been, kiddo?"

"Evening, Mr. Kurtz. I'm alright. Just getting my ass kicked by school and stuff. Nothing new."

The older man let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a huff and a chuckle. He turned his back to you, now facing the variety of cigarettes behind the counter.

"Let me guess. The usual?"

"You know me so well."

He let out another huff of laughter as he pulled your favorite brand from the shelf. He didn't even bother to ask for an I.D. He never did. Which was what led you to become a regular at his store along with his sickeningly friendly personality. You rummaged through your pocket until you found enough cash to pay your total.

"Thanks again, Mr. Kurtz. I'll see you again soon."

You grabbed the fresh pack of cigarettes and flashed him a friendly smile.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

Immediately upon exiting the store, you opened the small box and removed one of the cigarettes before placing it between your lips. You keep a lighter on you at all times. You fished it from your pocket and lit the end of the thin cancerous stick. Taking a long inhale, you closed your eyes in relief as the familiar flavor of tobacco filled your mouth and lungs. This is exactly what you needed.

The walk back home was uneventful. Finishing your cigarette, you stamped it out on the ground just before climbing the stairs to the small apartment you and Kimberly shared. With your key already in hand, you inserted into the keyhole on the doorknob. However, when you twisted the key, you weren't met with the familiar 'click' sound it always made while being opened.

“𝘏𝘶𝘩… 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.” You thought to yourself.

You jiggled the doorknob, and sure enough, it was already unlocked. You shrugged it off and stepped inside, closing the door back behind you. You stood in silence for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Something was off. You weren't sure what it was, but the moment you stepped through the door, the sudden unshakeable feeling of dread took you over completely. It was almost as if you were being watched. No, you 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 being watched. You reassured yourself that it was just your imagination, but your instinct told you to get out of there as quick as you could and never look back. Before you could process another thought, a hand made its way from behind you and was clasped over your mouth.

"W-we've got you n-now!~"

Your first instinct was to scream, however it was muffled due to how hard this fucker's hand was pressed against your mouth. You opened your mouth and bit down on the hand before you with all the strength your jaw could give. However, it only resulted in an increase of maniacal giggles from your perpetrator. He wrapped his other arm around your torso and held you tightly in place. You could taste the blood and small bits of flesh in your teeth from his hand and nearly gagged.

"𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜?"

The only other plan of escape you had was to try and struggle free from his grip. You tried your hardest to pull yourself free from his death grip, but your efforts were about as useful as a lamp without a lightbulb. You grunted in frustration as his hold on you only tightened. You then felt something cold and metallic press against your neck. You tried to crane your head to the side for a better look, but quickly whipped your head back up was you felt the sharp object slide against your skin. Small droplets of blood dribbled down to your collarbone as you hissed in pain at the uncomfortable sensation.

"You're a f-fuh-feisty one, a-aren't ya?"

"Who the FUCK are you?! What do you want from me?!"

Before he had time to answer you, you heard heavy footsteps coming from the hallway. Approaching you was a man in a white mask. It was painted with eerie feminine features, but what caught your attention the most was the crowbar resting in his palms. Your breath quickened with every step he took closer to you. You felt like you were on the verge of fainting from hyperventilation. This was the first time you had ever experienced anything like this, and you prayed that if you survived by some miracle, it would be the last. The masked man took a few more steps until he was just inches away from you. He leaned down so that he was at eye level with you and just stared before letting out an annoyed scoff.

"For fucks sake, Rogers, you've got the wrong one."

What.

"Huuuh? You mean sh-shes not our t-t-target?"

The man release his grip on you and you immediately collapsed to the floor. Your legs were shaking too much for you to stand on your own right now. Hell, your whole body was shaking. You looked up from the ground at the man who had restrained you. Like the other one, his face was also covered. Except instead of wearing a mask, he wore bulky orange goggles and what seemed like some type of mouth guard.

"No. But she is now. She's seen too much."

Oh, fuck no.

Adrenaline shot through your body as you stood up and bolted towards the kitchen. Quickly, you threw open a few drawers and looked for literally anything to defend yourself with. You wrapped your fingers around a large kitchen knife and defensively yielded it in front of you. This only caused the goggled man to let out another sickening giggle.

"Look, M-Masky, she's g-g-gonna try to f-fight back! H-how cute!"

The masked man let out an annoyed sigh, clearly losing his patience with the other man's antics. "Let's just get this over with."

"Get the FUCK away from me! Fucking psychos!"

You didn't have the guts to approach and attack them. Your mind raced as the masked man started taking long slow strides towards you. You then did the only other thing you could think of to slow him dow. You threw open the fridge door and grabbed the unopened gallon of milk with shaky hands.

"I SAID FUCK OFF!"

With all the strength you could conjure up, you threw the gallon of milk directly at his head at full force, causing it to bust open on impact. He let out a grunt of both pain and annoyance and stumbled back a few steps. He clearly was NOT expecting that. The goggled man began to howl with laughter.

"HAH! Sh-she got you good, d-didn't she, Masky!"

"Shut the hell up, Rogers!"

He turned his attention back to you. He was a lot less intimidating when he was covered in milk, but still intimidating nonetheless.

"You fucking bitch!"

He wiped the milk from his mask with his arm and practically pounced on you. Your back hit the hardwood floor with a thud, the impact knocking the breath out of you. You threw you arms in front of you in a pathetic attempt at defending yourself, but before he could lay another hand on you, you heard the front door open. Another man with his face hidden made his way into your field of vision. He was wearing a tight ski mask with a poorly drawn frown on the front, covered by the yellow hood of his shirt.

"Both of you. We need to leave. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere until I've bashed this whore's skull in!"

"You don't have much of a choice. Neighbors heard the commotion and called the cops."

"Oh for FUCKS sake!"

With that, he roughly shoved you back to the ground and released you before heading towards the door with the hooded man. They were both followed by the shorter male with the goggles. He turned his head towards you again before walking out with the others.

"I'll see you ag-gain soon, p-princess!"

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. You were unable to move from your spot on the floor. Tears made their way from your eyes as your entire body shook. You definitely weren't gonna be sleeping tonight after that.

#ticci toby smut #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #ticci toby #masky marble hornets #tim masky #timothy wright #brian thomas #hoodie #hoody marble hornets #proxies #creepypasta proxy #slender proxy #slenderverse

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fushitoru · 11 days ago

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chapter 9: the embers a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of sex work

chapter summary ⸺ sukuna takes you on an excurion into town at night, where you both meet a stranger that gives you illustrative insight into gojo. on the other hand, satoru has to suffer his best friend's most terrible plan as of date (10k).

a/n MWAHAHAHA i'll see you at the end :) thank you for my beta readers @/angelina7890, @/purplegemadventures, @/hellowoolf, and @/sinn-clair for helping me salvage bridgerton!gojo efknwekfnw

also note that the warnings have been updated.

prev. the lake | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest Reader,

It seems that the Gojo name has once again stirred the waters of the ton—quite literally, this time. If you were not present at Surrey Park, then you have surely missed a sight that will be etched in the minds (and no doubt dreams) of many a young lady for weeks to come.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

The rhythmic sound of the carriage wheels against the dirt road filled the silence as you sat between Choso and Sukuna, gazing out of the small window. The events of Surrey Park, particularly the lake incident, replayed in your mind with an insistence that made your temples throb. You clenched your hands tightly in your lap, as if the sheer tension in your knuckles could chase away the image of Lord Gojo, drenched and smirking as though he hadn’t just caused your heart to stutter in ways you loathed to admit.

“What a ridiculous display,” Sukuna muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the seat, his tone conveying pure disapproval. “That man cannot seem to go a day without making a spectacle of himself. I wonder if he has any sense of propriety at all.”

You tore your gaze from the window, startled from your reverie. “I hardly think it was his intention to fall into the lake,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. The memory of Gojo's intense gaze before he walked away was still fresh, leaving you both flustered and confused.

Sukuna raised a brow, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. “Intentional or not, it is yet another reason why I cannot fathom what you—or anyone, for that matter—ever saw in him.”

You could not help but think Sukuna’s dismay was not deserved; after all, the man had fallen into the lake in defense of you. Thus, it was not as easy for you to color it obscene and vulgar as easily as Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” Choso interrupted with a stern look, though his tone was mild. “Let us not belabor the point. What matters is that our sister is no longer tethered to that man. Speaking of which”—he turned to you, his expression softening—“how fares your progress with Duke Nanami? Has he hinted at a proposal?”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under your eldest brother’s watchful gaze. “He is... cordial and kind,” you replied after a pause, your voice measured. “Our conversations are pleasant, and he is undoubtedly a man of good character.”

Choso frowned slightly, clearly unsatisfied with your tepid response. “But is he inclined to offer for you?”

“I suppose,” you murmured, clasping your hands tighter in your lap. The truth, however, was far from what you conveyed. Despite Nanami's quiet, unwavering presence, your thoughts seemed to stray perpetually toward another—toward Lord Gojo, who could unsettle and vex you in equal measure with a single look or word. The mere memory of him emerging from the lake, every detail exaggerated by the sunlight, made your heart flutter treacherously.

Sukuna’s sharp eyes darted toward you, narrowing slightly as he leaned forward. “You suppose?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “You are not typically this indecisive, Sister. Tell me, where exactly does your mind wander?”

You stiffened, heat creeping up your neck as you struggled to mask your turmoil. “I am simply... weighing my options,” you replied carefully, returning your gaze to the window to avoid his probing stare.

For a moment, Sukuna studied you in silence, his lips pursed in thought. But he said nothing more as the carriage finally pulled into the familiar drive of your family’s estate.

Once the carriage halted and Choso helped you alight, the three of you headed into the Itadori manor. However, as soon as you crossed the threshold, Sukuna’s hand lightly touched your elbow, indicating that you should linger behind. As Choso continued on to go to his study and fell out of earshot, you turned to him, a questioning look on your face.

“Sister,” he began, his voice low but not unkind. “Would you care to join me on an outing to town this evening? I have... matters to attend to, and I thought you might find it of interest.”

“An outing?” you asked, turning to him with curiosity. “What kind of matters?”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, his expression almost conspiratorial. “Let us call it a meeting of minds. A discussion on the state of affairs, if you will.”

Your heart quickened with excitement at the prospect. If you recall correctly, you have no plans of balls or any outings with the tons tonight, and you longed to engage with something outside of the season’s mundane practices ever since Gojo had similarly taken you into town. Sukuna had been long gone, and this ritual of yours—sneaking into town to experience political meetings—you had long been deprived of.

“I would be delighted,” you replied, unable to keep the enthusiasm from your voice.

“Good,” Sukuna said, a rare note of approval in his tone as he squeezed your arm lightly. “Then prepare yourself for something far more stimulating than insipid dances and idle chatter.”

The moon’s light shone over the two cloaked figures that were you and Sukuna. As the both of you sneaked towards an apparent meeting point that Sukuna had pre-established, your heart raced—not from fear, but from the thrill of doing something forbidden.

The brisk air bit at your cheeks as the sound of the faint crunch of gravel accompanied you both while creeping across the street.

"Keep up," Sukuna whispered, casting a glance over his shoulder. His expression held that mischievous glint you had come to recognize all too well, as though he relished dragging you into his escapades.

“I am keeping up,” you shot back, pulling your hood further over your face. “I only hope you know what you’re doing.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and unbothered. “Always.”

Soon enough, you spotted a modest carriage tucked behind a grove of trees, its lanterns dimmed to avoid attention. A figure stood waiting beside it, cloaked and hooded, though far more relaxed than someone trying to avoid detection. Sukuna approached the man with an ease that spoke of familiarity, slapping him on the shoulder as though they were old friends.

“Toji,” Sukuna greeted, his voice carrying a note of camaraderie.

“Toji?” you repeated under your breath, squinting your eyes as you studied the man. He was broad-shouldered, with an air of roughness about him that immediately set him apart from the polished gentlemen of the ton. His sharp eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to Sukuna, clearly unimpressed by the effort you’d gone through to remain inconspicuous.

“This the sister you’ve been talking about?” Toji asked, his tone casual as he nodded in your direction.

“Indeed,” Sukuna replied, smiling as he gestured toward you. “Miss Itadori, meet Toji Fushiguro, a man of many talents.”

“Many talents?” you echoed, shooting Sukuna a skeptical look. “And which talents are we referring to, exactly?”

Toji let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “She’s got a sharp tongue, your sister. I like her.”

You narrowed your eyes at the stranger, unsure whether to feel flattered or annoyed, but Sukuna merely grinned, ushering you toward the carriage. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.”

The interior of the carriage was cramped, but warm, the faint scent of leather and smoke lingering in the air. Toji climbed in after you, settling into the opposite seat with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent many nights in carriages like this one. Sukuna took his place beside you, leaning back as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re very familiar with him,” you remarked to Sukuna, your tone edged with suspicion. “I’d like to know why.”

Toji answered for him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Your brother and I go back. He’s got a knack for finding himself in interesting situations, and I’ve got a knack for getting him out of them.”

“Is that so?” you said, arching a brow amusedly at Sukuna. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sukuna shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Toji’s got connections. And besides, Sister, you’ll be thanking me soon enough for dragging you into this.”

But you were not one to be fooled. You narrowed your eyes, prying deeper into your brother’s words. “What type of connections?”

He sighs, shaking his head and complaining, “Ah! Enough of that. Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going?”

Your skepticism could not be quelled with a dismissive remark, but you waved it aside anyway, acquiescing. “Fine, but do not think I will rest on the matter.”

Toji, who had been silent thus far, chuckled quietly, his sharp gaze flickering between you and Sukuna. “She’s got your measure, Sukuna. You’re not squirming out of this one so easily.”

“Never does,” Sukuna muttered under his breath before changing tack. “Alright, alright. Since you’re so eager to discuss weighty matters, tell me this—are you familiar with Wollstonecraft’s latest work?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall. “The Vindication? Of course, I’ve read it. Why?”

“Then you’ll have some context for what you’re about to hear,” Toji said. His voice was measured, but there was a weight to it that made you sit up a little straighter. “This isn’t just idle talk—it’s about education, equality, and liberty. Ideas that don’t sit well with those who benefit from keeping things as they are.”

Sukuna nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “It’s more than philosophy, though. These people are living it. Fighting for it.”

Your pulse quickened as the conversation took a turn you hadn’t anticipated. You leaned forward slightly as you met Sukuna’s gaze. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” you began, your voice tinged with both curiosity and eagerness. “Wollstonecraft’s arguments are bold, yes, but they’re also deeply practical. Education as the foundation of equality—what could be more sensible? Yet, it threatens the very structure of society.”

Toji gave a low chuckle, his sharp gaze resting on you with renewed interest. “Well said. And what do you make of it, then? The notion that the world might be turned on its head by ideas like hers?”

Your lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I think the world could use a little turning on its head. Though, I imagine the aristocracy would sooner go to war than concede such ground.”

“That they would,” Sukuna agreed, his tone almost amused. “But it’s not just the aristocracy. The changes Wollstonecraft envisions—education for all, women stepping into the public sphere—these ideas challenge everyone who’s comfortable with the way things are.”

“Which is precisely why they’re so powerful,” you replied quickly, your excitement bubbling over. “People cling to the status quo out of fear, but fear is not insurmountable. Surely, with the right voices, the right leaders, minds could be swayed.”

Toji smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. “Optimistic, aren’t you? Most would say such change requires more than just words. Sacrifices must be made.”

“I’m not naïve, Mr. Fushiguro,” you said, straightening your posture. “I understand that revolutions—whether in thought or action—carry a cost. But is that not the mark of true progress? To be willing to bear the burden for a better future?”

Sukuna exchanged a glance with Toji, the latter’s smirk deepening. “She’s quite the firebrand, isn’t she?” Toji remarked.

“She always has been,” Sukuna replied with a shrug, though the faintest hint of pride flickered in his tone. “Keeps me on my toes.”

You ignored their banter, your thoughts racing ahead to what lay in store. “This meeting,” you pressed, unable to keep the excitement from your voice, “who will be there? What will be discussed?”

Sukuna held up a hand to forestall your questions. “Patience. You’ll hear it all soon enough. But I’ll tell you this much—it’s not just talk. These people are doing what others only dream of.”

Toji nodded, his expression growing somber. “There are risks, of course. The kind of risks that come with challenging the very fabric of society.”

You nodded, your resolve solidifying. “I’m not afraid of risk. Ideas like these are worth fighting for.”

Toji studied you for a long moment, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “You might just survive this night, after all.”

The carriage hit a slight bump in the road, jostling all of you, but it did little to break the energy that now thrummed in the small space. The shadows outside grew longer as the journey continued, but your mind was alight with thoughts of what awaited—a world of bold ideas and uncertain promises, one you were eager to step into.

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for the occasional jostling of the carriage over uneven terrain. When you finally arrived, Toji stepped out first, scanning the area before motioning for the two of you to follow. You found yourself in what appeared to be a modest meeting hall, the murmur of voices already audible from within.

Toji pushed open the door, revealing a room filled with a mix of people—some finely dressed, others in simpler attire, all seated in clusters, engaged in quiet but intense discussion. It was clear you had entered a space where class distinctions mattered little, united by a common cause.

“This,” Toji said, his voice low but firm, “is where the real work happens. You wanted to see it, didn’t you?”

You glanced at Sukuna, who gave you a reassuring nod, and then back at Toji. “Lead the way,” you said, your curiosity outweighing your reservations.

The smell of pipe smoke wafted through the air, accompanying the noise of friendly claps on backs, low murmur of conversation, the scrape of chairs against the floor, and a warped sort of revelry that was present in the room. The place was almost like a tavern, and as you, your brother, and Toji made your way through the wooden tables filled with people, ongoers showed familiarity with Sukuna. The contrast with how he conducted himself here and the demeanor he adopted at balls was almost comical; whereas ladies of the ton would get an uncongenial countenance, Sukuna was even grunting in response to some of the greetings he received. It was truly a marvel to perceive, indeed.

While Toji directed you both towards an empty table for the sake of your privacy, you could hear tidbits of conversations, murmurs, and bold declarations alike surrounding you.

“Evening, Sukuna,” a burly man called out, raising his glass in acknowledgment. Sukuna responded with a grunt and a nod, his lips twitching in what might have been a hint of a smile.

As Toji directed you to an empty table near the back of the room, your ears caught snippets of conversation from the surrounding tables.

“I find Burke’s assertions about women rather daft,” a woman sniffed, her voice tinged with disdain. “To claim that their sensibilities preclude them from education—it’s an insult, not an argument.”

A man seated beside her chuckled, shaking his head. “Indeed. The irony is that these so-called rational men are the ones most ruled by their passions when challenged.”

At another table, a younger man spoke with fiery conviction. “It’s not just about reforming laws—it’s about changing the very way we think about liberty and who truly earns it.”

“And it’s not solely for the falsely-refined, immoral, and narcissistic rich; As Wollstonecraft mentioned, they are weak, artificial beings, spreading their corruption though the whole mass of society.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the exchanges, the fervor and intellect on display so different from the superficial chatter of the ton. Toji and Sukuna, however, seemed unfazed, as though this kind of discourse was nothing new to them. You, on the other hand, were very excited; while Sukuna had taken you out on such excursions often, the extent of it was visiting restaurants in common clothes, and eating freshly baked bread and pastries. This was an entirely different scene, and every time someone echoed your thoughts—before, captive on your diary’s pages—out loud, your heart was set aflutter.

However, you were a bit wary about fully joining the discussion. While you were undeniably confident that you would be able to keep rapport with those debating, you weren’t fully aware of Toji’s position within the ton. Sukuna may have his trust, but you’d rather not risk joining in; after all, if Toji even were to spread the word about your scandalous…hobbies, Sukuna would not be entirely opposed to you leaving the season without finding a husband, as he’s made clear before.

Once seated, Toji leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests as you and Sukuna followed suit.“Quite the crowd tonight,” he remarked, his voice low as his sharp eyes scanned the room. “Seems the common folk are growing bolder.”

Sukuna grinned, leaning back in his chair as though he were entirely at ease. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

You settled into your seat, your hands resting lightly on the edge of the table as you absorbed the atmosphere. The snippets of conversation, the passionate speeches, the clinking of mugs—all of it painted a vivid picture of a world far removed from the ballrooms and drawing rooms you had grown accustomed to. And yet, there was something undeniably captivating about it.

“What do you think?” Sukuna asked, his tone teasing as he leaned closer to you. “Not quite the spectacle of a ball, but it has its charm, doesn’t it?”

You glanced at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “It’s… different,” you admitted, your gaze returning to the dais where the speaker was now gesturing animatedly. “But perhaps that’s what makes it so compelling.”

As you turned, you now noticed that Toji was observing you thoughtfully and you tilted your head, giving him a questioning look, to which he spoke up, “Well,” his tone light but probing, “discussion aside. How has the glittering world of the ton treating you, Miss Itadori? I hear you’re the diamond of the season. Must be quite the... adventure.”

You offered him a polite, practiced smile. “It has been... illuminating,” you said delicately. “The season has certainly provided its share of experiences.”

“Ah, I see,” Toji drawled, leaning back in his chair and giving you a look that suggested he saw through your carefully crafted response. “Illuminating. That’s a word people use when they’re too polite to say what they really mean.”

Sukuna snorted, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s being diplomatic, Toji. If you really want to know what she thinks, let me tell you—she’s been dodging proposals left and right while trying not to throttle certain lords.”

Your lips parted in indignation, but Sukuna held up a hand to stop you before you could protest. “Don’t deny it, sister. We both know I’m right.”

Toji chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, now this is getting interesting. So, who’s the thorn in your side, then? Every diamond has one.”

You stiffened slightly but maintained your composed tone. “I wouldn’t say anyone is a thorn, per se. There have been... challenges, certainly, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Gojo,” Sukuna said bluntly, earning a glare from you. “The thorn is Gojo.”

Toji’s brows shot up. “Satoru Gojo? The golden boy himself? Well, that’s a surprise. What’s he done to earn your ire, Miss Itadori?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to divulge, but Sukuna, ever the instigator, jumped in. “He courted her, dropped her, and now he’s lurking in the background like some lovesick pup.”

Toji let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Ah, that boy. Always knew he’d trip over his own arrogance one day.”

“Arrogance,” Sukuna muttered, “doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Toji smirked, swirling his glass thoughtfully. “Let me give you some advice, Miss Itadori. The one you hate, the one who gets under your skin, makes your blood boil? That’s usually the one worth keeping around.”

You scoffed, but it was half-hearted; you were intrigued. Straightening in your chair, you probed lightly, “And why, pray tell, would I want to keep someone who vexes me so terribly?”

“Because,” Toji said, leaning forward, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “the ones who challenge you are the ones who see you. Really see you. And from what I’ve heard, Gojo’s stuck around, hasn’t he? Defended you when it counted?”

You frowned, your mind flashing back to the lake incident, his swift intervention, the way he had looked at you—like you were the only person in the world. “That’s hardly enough to excuse his behavior,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual conviction.

Toji grinned knowingly. “Conflict like this doesn’t fizzle out quietly, Miss Itadori. Mark my words—this will blow up sooner or later. And when it does, when Gojo realizes he’s been an idiot and comes crawling back, what are you going to do?”

Your breath hitched at the thought, and you quickly dismissed it with a wave of your hand. “He won’t. He’s far too stubborn for that.”

“Maybe,” Toji conceded with a shrug, though his expression suggested otherwise. “But if he does, you’d better know what you want, because boys like Gojo don’t grovel often.”

Sukuna huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, I’d rather she find someone who isn’t an arrogant prick.”

“Maybe,” Toji said again, his tone calm but firm. “But sometimes it’s the arrogant pricks who surprise you the most.”

You shook your head, unwilling to entertain the notion any further. “This is all highly speculative and entirely unnecessary. Lord Gojo and I are... nothing.”

Toji’s words hung in the air, and though you tried to focus on the speaker at the front of the room, the uneasy stirring in your chest remained. Sukuna’s watchful gaze burned into the side of your face, and after a long moment of silence, you turned back to Toji, unable to resist asking the question that had been gnawing at you.

“How is it,” you began cautiously, your tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of suspicion, “that you seem to know Lord Gojo so well?”

Toji leaned back in his chair, his lips quirking in an almost imperceptible smirk. Sukuna let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he observed the exchange, clearly entertained. You really wanted to shoot a dirty glare at both of them, but you persisted, your gaze insistently honing on Toji.

“What makes you think I know him?” Toji asked, his voice carrying that frustratingly unhurried cadence that suggested he was enjoying your discomfort.

You narrowed your eyes, unwilling to let him deflect. “Because you speak of him with far more familiarity than most. And because you called him an ‘arrogant prick’ with such conviction that it could only come from experience.”

Toji laughed at that, a low, amused sound that rumbled from his chest. “Sharp as ever,” he remarked, glancing briefly at Sukuna, who rolled his eyes. “Fine, if you must know—I’ve known the boy since he was barely out of leading strings. My father did lots of business with his, as almost all families of the nobility do business with the Gojo dukedom. And for a time, I was … well, let’s say I was observing the business practices of the family.”

You blinked, surprised by the revelation. “Oh? Anything of note?”

Toji shrugged, his expression now unreadable at the mention of his family. “Gojo and I… crossed paths more than a few times.” He then snorted, now shaking his head at what seemed a ridiculous memory. “The boy was only four and ten when he was attending those meetings with the rest of the noble families, while the rest of the men in that room were at least two and twenty.”

“Ah.” You didn’t exactly understand how to analyze this; while you’re no stranger to the fact that Gojo was conditioned for the title of duke since his childhood, courtesy of Mrs. Tanaka, you were fazed by it every time.

“And,” Toji snorts, continuing, “the child would be the most ridiculous sight. Sometimes it felt that he was so enamored by the sound of his own voice that he hardly cared what the meeting was about.” Toji smirked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as if reliving the absurdity of the memory. “He’d sit there, bold as brass, making ridiculous suggestions—most of which were promptly dismissed, mind you—but he always had this way of... commanding attention.”

You raised a brow, trying to picture a fourteen-year-old Gojo confidently holding court among seasoned men of business and nobility. The image was surprisingly easy to conjure. “And no one thought to put him in his place?”

Toji let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, they tried. Believe me, they tried. But the boy’s wit was sharper than most men in that room. Even when he was wrong—and he often was—he’d somehow twist the conversation to make it seem like he was the only one making sense. Drove them mad.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought, though it was accompanied by a pang of irritation. Of course, Gojo had been insufferable even as a boy.

“He sounds as impossible then as he is now,” you muttered, earning a chuckle from Sukuna.

Toji tilted his head, a glint of something more serious in his eyes now. “Impossible, yes. But also... determined. Even back then, you could tell he had a weight on his shoulders. He wanted to prove something—to himself, to his family, to everyone in that room. I’d wager that’s still true.”

You frowned, mulling over his words. “And what exactly does he have to prove? He’s already a duke-to-be, with wealth, power, and influence beyond what most could dream of.”

Toji regarded you for a moment, his gaze steady. “Sometimes, those with the most are the ones who feel they have the most to lose. And the most to prove.”

Your chest tightened at the implication, but you quickly shoved the thought aside. “Well,” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone, “it seems Lord Gojo has always been consistent in his… unique qualities.”

Toji’s smirk returned, though there was a knowing edge to it. “That he has. But don’t mistake consistency for simplicity. That boy is a maze, and only a fool would think they’ve figured him out.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted by Sukuna’s low, dry voice. “Why are we wasting breath on that prick? We’re here for a reason, aren’t we?”

Toji laughed again, a deep, unbothered sound, and gestured for you both to follow him deeper into the meeting hall. “Fair enough. Let’s see if we can find you two a seat before you start debating the virtues—or lack thereof—of Lord Satoru Gojo.”

The sun was low on the horizon, casting the sky in a fiery orange glow as the two men rode side by side along the quiet trails bordering the Gojo estate. The rhythmic clopping of hooves on the dirt path filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional snort or whinny from their steeds. Satoru’s white steed carried him with its usual grace, while Geto’s dark horse moved with a steady, confident gait.

It was indeed a rare moment of calm. Before the season started, these silences would undoubtedly be filled with Geto’s mentions of gossip and business deals, in which investment in the Americas ended up being a damp squib. However, it seems that with the season has come Geto’s new target: his best friend himself, Satoru. And Satoru knew that this moment of calm was before the storm: Geto hopping on his arse.

And indeed, Geto, ever the opportunist, was not one to let peace linger for too long. His lips quirked into a smirk as he glanced sideways at his lifelong friend.

“So,” Geto began, his tone far too casual to be innocent, “why’d you defend her yesterday?”

Satoru groans inwardly; ever since that night of the ball after the Gojo house party, Suguru had been observing him amusedly. It even seemed that Nanami was taking interest in Satoru’s recent affairs; every conversation at White’s had seemed like Kento and Suguru were in collusion together, and it made Satoru very wary. However, outwardly, he continued, his gaze fixed ahead. “Who?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Geto snorted. “Don’t play coy with me, Satoru. You know exactly who I mean—Miss Itadori. The lady you so gallantly saved from a rather damp fate.”

Satoru shrugged, leaning slightly forward in his saddle. He would be the air of nonchalance if Suguru didn’t know the subtle signs: his jaw clenching and his posture a bit too tight. “She was being pushed into a lake. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Ah,” Suguru drawled, his smirk widening. “Anyone. Of course. But it wasn’t just anyone, was it? It was you.”

“I was simply nearby,” Satoru replied coolly, though his grip on the reins tightened, the leather creaking faintly under his fingers.

Suguru let out a hum, as though he were considering his next move in a chess match. “Nearby? Satoru, you could’ve been halfway across the field, and you’d still have found some excuse to swoop in. It’s rather unlike you to involve yourself in such... trivial matters.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched briefly, but he said nothing.

“You stopped courting her, didn’t you?” Geto pressed, his tone light but with a sharp edge, something almost teasing yet with something to prove. “And yet, here you are, defending her honor like a knight in shining armor. I can’t imagine how she feels about all this... conflicting behavior.”

Satoru scoffed, finally cutting a glance at his friend. “I doubt she thinks of it at all.”

“Hmm,” Geto mused, humming prolongedly. His voice was dripping with skepticism as he drawled, “I doubt that.”

“I do not see how that is my issue,” Satoru responds bluntly, quelling the irritation inside him at being probed so…closely like this.

To Satoru’s reprieve, Geto had no immediate response. The two rode in silence for a moment, the quiet broken only by the rustling of leaves and the soft sounds of their horses’ hooves. Suguru, however, was far from finished, and Satoru felt that he was going to burst a vein.

“For someone who has the ton at his feet—every mama scheming, every daughter swooning—you sure are paying a lot of attention to one particular lady,” he said, leaning back slightly in his saddle. “A lady you supposedly have no interest in.”

This was enough. “Drop it, Geto,” Gojo said, his tone low and warning.

But Suguru wouldn’t have earned the title of being Satoru’s closest friend—and now it seemed, his greatest enemy—without crossing his boundaries further, pushing them in, and pulling at his strings. He wasn’t fettered in the least. He tilted his head, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “You know, it’s almost as if—dare I say it—you’re catching feelings.”

The words hit Gojo with the force of a thrown gauntlet, and for a moment, it felt like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs. His fingers tightened around the reins instinctively, the leather biting into his gloves as his horse came to an abrupt halt. His pulse spiked, not from exertion but from something he refused to name. It spread through him like wildfire—hot, uncontrollable, and unwelcome.

Catch feelings?

At some point, Satoru was afraid he had. Holding your unconscious body in his arms and foolishly pretending to be your husband in some childish attempt to play house—but no, Satoru does not have space for a mere thing like feelings. No, more like mere infatuation that he was sure would have died out by ending your courtship.

But when he had been replacing the flowers by your bedside for the nth time, gazing upon your unconscious form once more, he had felt a sort of panic and lack of control. An unbidden feeling bubbled up inside of him, one that he quickly grew to realize, in the days leading up to the house party and you being roused from your state, that it was dangerous.

It’s an idea he’s instilled in himself since he was just a youth, and it’s a law he follows. Love and duty mustn’t cross paths; the covenant of marriage was a duty, a means to uphold the dukedom and his family’s legacy. To cross it with something like mere infatuation over how your eyes widened whenever Satoru said something outrageous, the traces of the smile you contained talking to other foolish suitors, the feel of your surprise when he walked closer to your chair, how dangerous it was for him to be alone with you in the library at night…it would certainly destroy him and the truths that he, Satoru Gojo, based his life upon.

His mind raced to rationalize, to shove the notion of feelings, something deeper than infatuation and a mere fancy, into some dark corner where it could wither and die. What nonsense. It wasn’t feelings. It couldn’t be. It was...what? Irritation? Protectiveness? The natural response of any honorable man when a lady’s dignity was insulted?

Yet, the memory of you standing by the lake crept unbidden into his mind—your face caught between fury and disbelief, the sunlight glinting off the strands of your hair that had escaped their meticulous arrangement.

And that damnable dress—how it had dared to hint at the curves he had so traced uncountable times his dreams with his hands, with his tongue—

He could still hear your biting words, sharp and unrelenting, even as they softened into something more vulnerable when no one else could hear.

His stomach twisted. No.

His voice was clipped as he snapped at Geto, desperate to redirect the conversation. “You’re starting to pry into matters that don’t concern you.”

But Geto’s smirk didn’t falter, and Gojo hated him for it. It was as if his oldest friend could see every crack forming in his carefully constructed facade, every thin thread of composure threatening to unravel.

“You could make a fine living consulting mamas on the ton’s gossip, you know,” Gojo continued, the words escaping him with uncharacteristic sharpness. “Perhaps even advising them on matchmaking strategies. Should I make introductions for you?”

The deflection was weak, and he knew it. His heart was still racing, his chest tight as if the very idea Geto had planted was a parasite sinking its teeth into his carefully guarded resolve.

Feelings. For you.

Impossible.

And yet, as Geto’s smirk grew wider, his eyes alight with amusement, Gojo realized with a sinking dread that he wasn’t entirely sure anymore.

Geto grinned, unbothered by the sharpness in his friend’s words, and appeared ignorant of the visceral reaction Gojo just had to the notion. “Oh, I don’t need introductions. I’ve already got your whole life figured out, Satoru.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, nudging his horse forward again. “She’s not anything special to me. That’s all there is to it.”

The silence that followed Geto’s pointed observation stretched longer than Gojo would have liked. It hung heavy in the cool evening air, punctuated only by the occasional snort of their horses and the crunch of hooves on gravel. Gojo didn’t dare look at his friend, his jaw clenched tightly as his mind raced. Catch feelings. The words echoed, taunting him as if Geto had struck a nerve he hadn’t even realized was exposed.

Gojo swallowed hard, eyes fixated blankly on the trees in the surrounding scenery, silent as his usual sharp wit suddenly dulled. His silence wasn’t the confident kind that usually unsettled others—it was uneasy, charged, the kind that gave too much away. He shifted in the saddle, his posture stiff, betraying the internal battle raging within him.

But Geto noticed. He always noticed.

And when Gojo finally glanced sideways at him, Geto’s expression had transformed. His dark eyes sparkled with a glint of pure mischief, his lips curving into a grin that promised trouble. It was as though he had just uncovered a hidden treasure—Gojo’s discomfort, his tells, his unwillingness to admit what they both knew.

“Oh,” Geto said, dragging the word out like a cat savoring the moment before pouncing on a mouse. His grin widened, a wicked gleam overtaking his features. “Oh, this is rich.”

Gojo scowled, his face flushing despite himself. “What now?” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual commanding edge.

Geto didn’t answer immediately, his gaze sweeping over his friend with an almost theatrical sense of revelation. He leaned slightly forward in his saddle, the reins in one hand as his other gestured toward Gojo as if presenting him to an invisible audience.

“I’ve got it,” Geto said, his tone deceptively casual, though the glint in his eyes betrayed the mischief bubbling beneath. “If she’s not anything special, as you’ve so eloquently put it, then we can visit the brothel tonight. Right?”

Gojo’s head snapped toward him, his jaw tightening further, but before he could respond, Geto continued, his voice laced with false innocence. “Think about it—a little distraction, a reset, if you will. It’ll clear everything up for you, including how you’re feeling.”

The silence that followed wasn’t simply quiet—it was a palpable stillness, thick with tension. Geto’s grin only grew as he watched Gojo’s reaction—or lack thereof. His friend had frozen, the reins slack in his hands as he stared straight ahead, his profile bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun.

“What’s the matter?” Geto pressed, his voice practically dripping with faux innocence. “You’re not hesitating, are you? After all, if she means nothing to you, there’s no reason not to go.”

Gojo hesitated for a fraction of a second too long, and Geto pounced on it.

“You’ve got something to prove, don’t you?” he teased, leaning slightly toward Gojo. “Come now, Satoru. Let’s see just how unaffected you truly are.”

And then, like a man trying to prove something—to himself, to his friend, to the world—Gojo finally spoke, his tone clipped, almost defiant. “Fine.”

But Geto wasn’t fooled, and Gojo knew it. He could feel the weight of his friend’s amusement, his sharp gaze cutting through every layer of pretense Gojo had built around himself. And for the first time in a long while, Gojo felt like he was losing control of the narrative.

Geto’s grin widened, triumphant. “Good. Let’s make an evening of it.”

The carriage ride was tense, at least for one of its occupants. Gojo sat stiffly on one of the plush seats, his legs stretched out in front of him, though his right knee bounced incessantly—a restless, nervous tick that betrayed the calm expression he worked hard to maintain. His hands gripped the edge of the seat, his fingers curling into the fabric as he stared out of the window, his pale blue eyes unfocused.

“This,” Satoru finally said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a knife, “is a truly foolish idea.”

Across from him, Geto reclined with the ease of a man completely at peace with his choices, one arm slung casually over the back of the seat. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then why are you here, oh wise one?”

Satoru shot him a flat look, though the movement was stiff, lacking his usual flair. “Because you said so. And because if I didn’t, you’d never let me hear the end of it.”

Geto chuckled, tipping his head back against the carriage wall. “Indulging your closest friend for once in your life—what a burden.” He then sighed, as if truly wounded and continued to lament, “You’ve never once gone with me—or rather, anyone—for an excursion to the establishment.”

Satoru didn’t dignify that with a response, his gaze flickering back out the window. The city rolled by in a blur of dim lantern light and shadowed alleys, but he barely registered it. The air in the carriage felt stifling, pressing down on him despite the open window beside him. His jaw clenched as his thoughts raced, looping over the same nagging feeling that had been gnawing at him since Geto suggested this ridiculous outing.

“I don’t even go to brothels,” Satoru muttered, almost to himself. This was truly a foolish idea.

Geto hummed amusedly, crossing his arms and leaning back. “So you’ve said. But everyone indulges now and again, even you.”

Satoru turned his head sharply to glare at him. “It’s not a fancy of mine.”

Geto leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he grinned. “Not your fancy? What, women? Or fun in general?”

“Brothels,” Satoru snapped, though the edge in his voice lacked conviction. “They’re… I don’t know, pointless. The whole idea is dunce-like. Superficial company cannot satisfy me. I find the banter found in of these establishments lacking conviction, and if I wanted such artificial banter, I would have found it in the balls of the ton. I have never found engaging conversation with any of the ladies of the ton,” except for you, “and I daresay it would not be an oversight to observe that I would not get the company I desire at a brothel.”

“And yet here you are,” Geto quipped, gesturing grandly to the carriage they occupied.

Satoru sighed heavily, his leg bouncing more insistently now. It seemed as if the foolishness of this idea had cast a cloud over his heart, never truly leaving him and permeating him in a sense of anxiousness, as if something was truly amiss. “Just this once. I fear that you may never stop troubling me if I do not.”

“As if I’d believe that.” Geto laughed, leaning back again, clearly enjoying his friend’s discomfort.

When the carriage finally came to a halt, Satoru felt a sinking sense of dread settle in his chest. He stepped down with an unusual stiffness, his body tense and his movements robotic, as though he were forcing himself to go through the motions. The chill of the evening air hit him, but it did little to ease the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

Geto followed close behind, his hand coming down heavily on Satoru’s shoulder in a gesture that was equal parts encouragement and teasing. “Relax, Satoru. It’ll be fun,” he said, his tone almost sing-song as he gestured toward the entrance of the establishment ahead.

Satoru gave him a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure,” he replied dryly, though the tension in his shoulders made it clear that he was anything but.

As Geto led the way, Satoru lingered a step behind, his feet dragging just enough to make his reluctance palpable. He couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of unease, the quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him that this was a mistake. And yet, here he was—following Geto into the lion’s den, his heart pounding with a mix of dread and something else he couldn’t quite name.

Suguru and Satoru’s footsteps resound on the wooden floorboards. Feminine perfume wafts through the air, but Satoru finds it a bit too strong. Unbidden, the memory and trace of your scent of sandalwood flashes through his mind, but before he can linger on the memory of your scent got stronger the closer his nose inched to the delicate arch of your neck, Suguru stops in front of him, talking to a woman at the counter.

As if second nature to Geto, Suguru flirts with the madam in charge of the finances, but to Satoru, it goes in through one ear and out the other. He’s too busy observing the tacky decorations and abundance of flowers that seem to surround the place and the halls he can peer into. And there are women.

They crowd by, some loitering by their doors and peering at the pair that just walked in. They giggle to each other in groups, no doubt wishing that Geto may choose them today, but Satoru knows that it would not be the case, for he hears Suguru murmur something along the lines of the usual girls. While some of them are enraptured by Geto, there are just so many eyes on him.

He’s undoubtedly someone they haven’t seen before; he doesn’t look too young, one that would end the whole session too early. Gojo feels eyes on him, salaciously trailing up his body, but he is unfazed by it. It is rather the prospect of being in a room alone, of having to touch or being touched that has, for some reason, him nauseous for a reason he is yet to figure out. So he attributes it to the waste of coin, for he is sure not to take any enjoyment.

“Satoru, move along this way,” Geto waves him into the hallway he’s walking towards, now that he has sorted out the details with the madam. Begrudgingly—but not before running a hand down his face in exasperation—Satoru follows. It’s almost amusing how whoever Geto gazes upon seems to faint, his siren eyes carrying an allure to them that even makes these ladies shy. Satoru, on the other hand, keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling and traces the detail and design of the crown molding.

When it appears that Geto has finally found the room he intended for, he opens the door and walks into it.

The atmosphere inside the room was surprisingly plush, though it carried the same overpowering floral scent as the rest of the establishment. A low-burning lantern cast a warm, flickering light over the deep reds and golds of the furnishings, creating an almost intimate glow.

Suguru strode in first, his posture relaxed and his expression bordering on smug. He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the room. “Nice, isn’t it? I always tell them to reserve the best for me.”

Satoru followed reluctantly, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He barely glanced at the room’s opulence, his focus instead on staying as close to the door as possible without actually leaving. “I suppose it’s marginally better than the hallway,” he muttered, his tone as dry as ever.

Suguru smirked, unbothered by his friend’s sour mood. “Come on, Satoru, don’t sulk. We’re here to unwind.” He dropped onto the sofa with a contented sigh, stretching out his arms along the backrest. “You’re supposed to sit, you know.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe instead. “I’m fine right here, thanks.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Suguru groaned, motioning toward the empty seat beside him. “Just sit down before you ruin the ambiance completely. I won’t tell anyone you’re enjoying yourself—promise.”

Reluctantly, Satoru peeled himself away from the door and took a seat at the far end of the sofa, as far from Suguru as the furniture allowed. He sank into the velvet sofa with all the enthusiasm of a man preparing for execution, his long legs stretched in front of him, his arms folded stiffly across his chest. He tried to laze back, be the appearance of equanimity, but inside he was anything but.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Suguru teased, pouring two glasses of wine from a decanter on the side table. He slid one across the table toward Satoru, who eyed it skeptically before finally picking it up.

“This is still a waste of time,” Satoru muttered, swirling the wine in his glass but not drinking it. His gaze wandered toward the window, though the heavy drapes blocked any view of the outside.

Suguru leaned back against the sofa, crossing one leg over the other as he sipped his wine. “You say that, but you’re here, aren’t you? Deep down, you must’ve been at least a little curious.”

“Deep down,” Satoru said, casting Suguru a sideways glance, “I fear I may be losing what little sense I have simply by remaining in this room.”

Suguru laughed, a deep, rich sound that filled the room and echoed as if to haunt and taunt Satoru. “You’re impossible. But I’ll give it ten minutes. You’ll relax. You always do.”

Before Satoru could retort, there was a soft knock at the door. Suguru’s smirk widened, and he set his glass down, rising to answer it. “Ah, perfect timing.”

Satoru tensed, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass. He leaned back slightly, watching as Suguru opened the door with all the confidence of a man who owned the place. When the door swung open, two women entered with an air of familiarity and charm, their laughter light as they greeted Suguru.

“Back so soon, Mr. Geto?” one of them purred, her hair bouncing with each step. Her gaze lingered on Suguru, enraptured as though she could see no one else. His friend has that effect on women, Satoru supposes. He’s definitely no stranger to it.

“As if he could stay away,” added the other, her blonde hair catching the warm light as she smiled, all charm and sweetness.

Suguru offered a roguish grin, gesturing broadly to the room as he drew his legs apart impossibly wider. He was truly the epitome of a man relaxed and in bliss. “Ladies, your wit does me a disservice. I couldn’t possibly keep myself from such delightful company.”

The two women giggled, each draping herself over Suguru’s shoulders with the familiarity of longtime favorites. Their laughter chimed softly, though Satoru barely heard it. He was too busy trying to reconcile the absurdity of this situation with his growing discomfort.

“And who’s this?” the blonde asked, her curious gaze flickering toward Satoru, who sat at the far end of the sofa. His unease must not have been apparent to anyone but Suguru, because in Gojo’s periphery, he saw the other girl in between him and Suguru turn her head in surprise, as if she truly hadn’t noticed him but definitely seemed to like what she saw. Soon, she was moving out of Geto’s space and inching herself closer next to Gojo’s seat on the chaise, but Satoru kept his eyes trained on Suguru, awaiting his response to the blonde.

“Oh, that?” Suguru quipped, waving a hand in his direction as though introducing an unruly pet. “That is Satoru, a dear friend of mine—and a woefully inexperienced one at that.”

Satoru shot him a withering glare but said nothing, his lips pressed into a smirk as if to mask his unease and instead show amusement, an air of nonchalance.

“Do be kind to him,” Suguru added with a knowing smirk. “He’s not accustomed to such pleasures as these.”

The other woman rose with a soft laugh, gliding across the chaise with practiced elegance. “Then I shall endeavor to make him feel at home.”’

As she settled beside Satoru, he felt a strange prickle of apprehension, a sense of something amiss. Then he turned his head, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was you.

Or at least, it felt like you. The resemblance was so striking it bordered on cruel—the shape of her face, the curve of her lips, the lashes framing her warm eyes. She even smiled like you, though this smile carried a polished charm that felt foreign, detached.

“Good heavens,” she murmured, her voice light and lilting. “You’re dreadfully tense, aren’t you? Let me help you with that.”

Her words might as well have been spoken in another language, for they barely reached him. Satoru was still staring, his mind spinning as the room seemed to shrink around him. She shifted closer, the scent of her perfume—a cloying blend of florals—filling the space between them. It made his stomach turn, but not because it was unpleasant. No, it was wrong. It wasn’t your scent.

The memory of sandalwood hit him like a punch to the chest, unbidden and consuming. The delicate trace of it, how it lingered faintly whenever you passed by, how it deepened when he leaned closer, just enough to catch it at the hollow of your throat—

Her touch drew him back abruptly. Her fingers skimmed lightly along his arm, trailing upward to rest against his chest. “You must relax, sir,” she tittered, her tone teasing but soothing in equal measure. “Let me ease your troubles. There’s no need to hold yourself so tightly.”

But Satoru barely felt the pressure of her hand. Instead, all he could feel was you—the ghost of your touch from the salacious dream he’d had not long ago, a dream that had plagued him since. You, standing in his room in nothing but your night shift, your figure outlined faintly by the moonlight filtering through the window. He remembered how his hands had reached for you in that dream, the warmth of your skin beneath his palms, the sound of your breath catching as he—

“Sir?” Her voice broke through the haze, soft and curious. Her brow furrowed slightly as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Are you unwell?”

He blinked, forcing himself to focus, though it felt like dragging his mind out of quicksand. His throat worked, but the words caught. “I’m fine,” he managed, though the stiffness in his tone betrayed him.

Across the room, Suguru observed the exchange with a smirk, his chin resting lazily on his hand. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, I’m afraid,” he drawled, his amusement clear. “The man’s wound tighter than a clock.”

The woman beside Satoru laughed softly, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “No matter,” she said brightly, her hand trailing further across his torso. “We’ve ways of loosening even the most stubborn. You ought to be at ease, my lord,” she teases, “I have no aim to bite you.”

But Satoru wasn’t paying attention. His mind was still back in that dream, with you. It was an image he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried. And as she leaned closer, her hand pressing lightly against his chest, his thoughts screamed louder than ever: What am I doing here?

The woman’s touch began to drift lower, her hands brushing over his hips, and Satoru’s entire body went rigid, as though struck by lightning. A peculiar kind of heat climbed up his neck—not the kind born of desire but something closer to panic.

His chest felt tight, his breath shallow. The air in the room seemed to shrink, pressing down on him from all sides. Her laughter, sweet and tinkling, rang in his ears, but it sounded muffled as if he were underwater. He couldn’t do this—not with her, not with anyone. Not when her face, her scent, and even her touch were so painfully wrong. It was truly uncanny, something that put Satoru too much at unease

He knew he must get out of there.

In one sharp motion, Satoru stood. The movement startled the woman, her hands falling away as she looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. Similar to when you both tripped at the stream, you looking up at him, your bosom close to his—

“Sir?” she asked, tilting her head, her voice laced with surprise.

Satoru offered a dazzling smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was charming enough to serve its purpose. He gently took her hands in his, his fingers curling lightly around hers as he raised them to his lips. His kiss was featherlight, fleeting, and entirely calculated.

“My dear,” he began, his tone smooth as silk, though a faint tremor lay hidden beneath it, “while I deeply appreciate your gracious efforts, I am afraid I must take my leave. A rather urgent matter at home has just crossed my mind.”

She blinked, startled and unsure of what to say. “But—”

Satoru stepped back, his smirk widening as he released her hands with a flourish. “Do forgive my abrupt departure. You’ve been nothing short of delightful.” He inclined his head toward her in a courtly gesture, his gaze flicking briefly to Suguru, who was now watching him with one brow arched in amused disbelief.

“Geto,” Satoru said, his voice tight but steady, “it seems I must bid you adieu. Do enjoy yourself. You appear to be in good company.”

Suguru leaned back, his arms draped lazily over the back of the sofa, an almost predatory grin tugging at his lips. “You’re leaving already, Satoru? The night’s barely begun.”

“Oh, but the night is full of pressing demands. I fear I have just remembered a pending task in my ledgers expected to be resolved tomorrow” Satoru replied breezily, though his legs were already moving toward the door. “Another time, perhaps.”

Before Suguru could respond, Satoru slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with an almost frantic speed. The sound of his boots echoed down the hallway as he strode quickly toward the exit, his pulse racing as though he were fleeing some great calamity.

By the time he stepped outside into the cool night air, his heart was pounding, and his chest felt like it might burst. He inhaled deeply, letting the chill fill his lungs as he tilted his head back to look at the sky. The stars above were cold and distant, but they steadied him.

“Good grief.”

As the door clicked shut behind Satoru, Geto’s smirk deepened, his gaze lingering on the spot where his friend had stood moments ago. The tension in Gojo’s shoulders, the too-tight smirk that barely concealed his panic—it had all been immensely entertaining. Geto couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. For all his bluster and charm, Satoru Gojo was, at his core, so damn oblivious to the raging currents inside of him.

He sighs inwardly, now excited. He couldn’t wait for the theatrics that would occur soon, for his friend was a ticking time bomb—one to explode very soon.

He leaned back further into the sofa, stretching his arms along the backrest as he glanced at the two women beside him. The blonde was frowning slightly, clearly perplexed by Satoru’s abrupt departure, while the one that had approached Satoru was still staring at the door, her lips parted as if to call him back.

“Don’t fret, my darlings,” Geto drawled, his voice low and smooth as honey. He shifted slightly, letting his arm curl around the blonde’s shoulders, his hand resting lightly at the nape of her neck. “Our dear Lord Gojo is... a complicated man.”

The blonde huffed, crossing her arms in mock indignation. “He didn’t even stay long enough for a proper introduction. Was it something I said?”

“Not at all,” Geto assured her, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. “He’s simply overwhelmed by beauty. I’m afraid he’s not accustomed to the kind of attention you so graciously bestowed upon him.”

The other woman’s pout melted into a soft laugh, her earlier confusion replaced by amusement. “Well, that is rather charming, in its own way.” Geto turns his eyes away from the blond to look at the other lady and has to bite his cheek to stop the laugh from coming in.

He truly did a good job of describing your features to the madam when requesting her.

“Indeed,” Geto said, his smile widening as he turned his attention fully to them. “But let us not waste another thought on him. I, for one, am most delighted to remain in your company.”

His words seemed to ease whatever tension lingered, and the two women exchanged a glance before smiling in unison. The blonde leaned into him, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of his coat. “You’re far more gracious than your friend,” she murmured, her voice taking on a playful lilt.

“I do try,” Geto replied, his tone teasing as his other hand came to rest on the woman—the one previously attending to Satoru—’s knee. “And if I may be so bold, I’d say we’ve quite the opportunity here—one we shouldn’t waste.”

She comes closer to him, remarking while looking up at him through her lashes, “I would say you’re rather right.”

With that, the three met passionately in an exchange of limbs, certainly making do…even with the lack of a certain white-haired duke-to-be.

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a/n HEY BRIDGERTON!GOJO POOKIES HOW ARE WE!! this chapter was sooo messy for gojo lmaooo. we're sooo close to the slow burn arc ending and this was a biiiggg epiphany for geto. now comes the next stage of the plan 😈

one thing i also wanted to clarify (and make sure everyone noticed) was that we got the reason why gojo dropped reader. he got a lil crush and got scared :( a lot of people have been asking me about it, and a lot of people were already commenting their theories, which nailed it completely on the head. whether surprised or not, i hope it makes sense :3

also idk if this goes without saying but if you didn't like that gojo agree to go to the brothel / dont agree with sex work / dont like that geto indulges / yadda yadda pls dont make it my problem <3 im just writing what was common at the time, it's not indicative of my views on anything

gojo after realizing the woman looked like you