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nezuscribe · 11 months ago

Text

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you have everything you could have asked for in life. a beautiful home in greenwhich, just far away from london so that you don't have to mingle with city life, but close enough to be surrounded by the ton. a library with all the books you could ask for and a friend you care for dearly. all except for the man of your dreams, who just so happens to be your best friends brother. worst of all, he only sees you as such. his sisters best friend. (bridgerton!au)

warnings: 18+ mdni, gojo doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, slight angst (with comfort), smut, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (happy ending)

word count: 17.3k+ (i have no idea how)

note: yes, this is inspired by penelope and colin. yes, i know that colin isn't a viscount. their story is coming out later than expected so i took matters into my own hands. tysm @jadeisthirsting for beta reading! (if you saw this the first time no you didn't, i hope tumblr doesn't glitch out again)

jjk masterlist

You had a great life, as far as it went.

You were born into a wealthy family, far more wealthy than they deserved to be. You had maids at your beck and call and did not need to worry about the future as long as you acted correctly. You had book upon books, as many as you could dream of, so long as you didn’t bore your mother too much with them. You had any sort of food you could dream of and you had the most caring friend in the world who loved you very much.

Honestly, what more could a woman ask for?

“I say we move the whole ordeal to Friday, seeing how Satoru is only arriving on Wednesday. But my mother insisted that we keep in on Thursday because the rest of London just couldn’t wait to see my dashing brother…” Lily continued her furious rant as she paced back and forth the vast expanse of your family’s drawing room, shaking her head in clear frustration.

“And you want it to be a day later…because…?” You sipped quietly on your tea, trying to keep your smile at a minimum. It was hard not to get giggly when Lily’s face got red and her eyes bugged out of her sockets. For such a pretty girl it tended to shift her features whenever she got angry or annoyed.

“Well, he’s going to be tired!” She stopped her pacing as she stared at you with her mouth a bit open as if it were the most obvious answer, “And whenever Satoru is tired he’s so difficult to deal with. He’s going to want to talk about his travels for at least three days before he’s ready to mingle with the rest of the works!”

You nodded heavily, showing her that you were completely on her side.

“Has he written to you?” She asked and then quickly shook her head, despite the fact you were going to answer with a quiet yes to her question. He had written you a few letters, all of them stashed in your vanity as you read over them, each going over his travels, sometimes sending you little knick-knacks he saw.

“Not the point. What I’m trying to say is that my mother always goes over the limit with how much she welcomes her children. And Satoru for that matter! Christ, he’s twenty-five and unmarried!”

You wanted to sink into your seat in embarrassment. You were only so much younger and had never had even an interaction with a suitor before.

Life was great, for the most part.

As much as you couldn’t complain, there was a small matter at hand that was growing increasingly more alarming the more the years went on.

For as long as you could remember, you and Lily were set on never getting married. Ever since she read that one Jane Austen book she was hellbent on independence and no men. You tagged along, seeing how that was a better excuse than admitting no man had even asked you to join him to be his partner to dance before.

Lily didn’t seem to care much for this. While she was set on her celibacy pact, she had been approached before. It doesn’t change much, but it did at least show her that somebody wants her. You were either such as a spinster or married to some ancient man your mother had to dig out from some corner of the market.

“And Satoru…” Lily rambled on, but all it did was remind you of an even worse fact.

You were terribly in love with her brother.

You have known the Gojo family for ten years, five months, twelve days, and two hours, and you have been in love with Gojo Satoru for ten years, five months, twelve days, and thirty minutes.

Their family had immigrated from Japan months before the oldest child was born, but they had only moved to Greenwich ten years, five months, and ten days ago. You met them only two days later when you accidentally wandered into their gardens, unknowing that a family had just moved in.

The first time you met that particular Gojo, you were thirteen and facing serious issues with yourself and your own family. You wanted to move to America in hopes that the boys over there would fancy you more and your mother forbade it. Satoru laughed when he saw your horrified face popping up from their blackberry bush, definitely not expecting to see anybody there.

“Hello there,” the stranger called out. You thought he was a grandfather with the way his hair was artic white, but he only seemed to be a bit older than you the closer he got.

“I’m not stealing from you I swear!” You cried out as you let the blackberries tumble out of your stained hands. You cannot be taken to prison, you simply wouldn’t survive.

“I can see that.” He crossed his arms as he tried not to laugh at the way your dress was stained a dark blue color.

He introduced himself, and Lily, and soon, you and the girl were attached at the hip.

It didn’t help that as kind and as charming as he was, he only saw you as his sister's closest friend. It also didn’t help that every other woman in high society seemed to be in love with the man and it certainly made it so much more horrific that he seemed to have his eyes on everybody else but you.

He, much like his sister, was averse to the idea of marriage, but for a completely different reason.

He seemed to despise the idea of being committed, which is most likely why he had been traveling the entirety of Europe and Asia for the past year or so. Despite his mother’s frantic worrying about setting him up with a respectable lady, he pushed them all aside and fled (in some sense) and will be making his grand appearance a couple of days from now. Everybody is chattering with excitement. You’re trying not to fill with total impending dread.

It had already taken everything you had to pretend that he didn’t exist and that he had simply disappeared, and you knew your wretched mind would fall for him just as quickly as it did the first time around when you were set to see him next week.

“...and, are you even listening?” Lily asked, her voice garbling back to life as you snapped your eyes back to hers, covering your mouth with your teacup as you insistently nodded, trying to keep your smile from faltering as she squinted her eyes to look you over and see what was wrong.

“I’m totally in tune with you Lils,” you insisted, nibbling on a cookie to help you with nausea which only seemed to make it worse.

“Hm,” she grunted, not seeming to believe you but not truly caring as she continued, “And thank the heavens you’ll be there beside me, for who knows what would become of me in such an unruly crowd of men and women just waiting for my brother to make his entrance. I’d lose my sanity.”

Yes, you thought, how lucky. If only love worked that way, of ignoring it until it faded. If only.

“I’ll be there.” You promised.

For better or for worse, you’d be there.

---

The ball was just as you had imagined it.

Extravagant, elegant, large, and incredibly crowded.

One of the perks of being an outsider in these sorts of scenes is you didn’t have to dance anymore (no matter how much it stung the first time around getting used to this fact).

Lily was off somewhere, being forced to socialize. Your other sisters were also lost in the crowd, either dancing or being swooned by a potential match.

You were yet to see the man of the hour, but then again, so was everybody else. He was either hiding away or being swallowed whole by the hoards of people eager to get a glimpse of him.

Not that you wanted to see him, of course. Just curious.

The food was, as always, a bonus. Nobody was going to judge you for scarfing anything down when you had begrudgingly sworn off marriage, and perhaps one of the good things about Lily's pact was that you didn’t care much about the public eye anymore.

“Please, at least act like we’re not starving you.” Your mother pleaded, unfortunately, stuck to your side for the night as she eyes you and your plate.

“I’m trying my best,” you reasoned, making sure you didn’t drop anything on your dress.

“The Viscount is coming tonight,” she tried to think and you snorted, earning some distasteful looks from the widows around you.

“And he’s just dying to see me, I suppose?” You rolled your eyes at the idea, to help the sting from your own words. It was better to be rationable than to be delusional.

“Well it doesn’t hurt to-”

“Try?” You cut her off with another laugh as you chew on an eclair, “Might as well. Right after the Princess introduces herself I’ll go up.” The two of you eye the girl in the diamond-encrusted gown with an equally bright tiara on her head. Your mother gave up the argument.

For the last couple of days, you have been at a mental war with yourself. On the one hand, it surely must mean something if he wrote you letters. On the other one, he wrote it to his entire family and he probably views you as such. No matter how much you want to pretend that the Gojo cares for you, it won’t be in the same way that measures how much you care for him.

“I’m going to get some more of these macaroons, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself as your mother pressed her lips into a thin line, wanting to push you to dance but knowing no amount of persuading was going to change your mind when it was already set on something.

Wading through the dense crowd was certainly a feat, but you did it nonetheless. From the dessert table, you could barely make out the pop of chartreuse that was Lily's gown, and you wondered how much longer until she’d be free to giggle and gossip with you.

Your eyes scanned over the little sweets carefully as you mentally weighed which one would taste good and which one would be a surprise in the kindest sense of the word. The colorful ones were often pretty but they tested either too bland or too bitter and the ones with caramel side sugar tended to be too sweet. All the good macaroons with the pistachio filling were gone, which was odd because you could only count on your fingers how many people aside from you tended to favor that one.

“Looking for something?”

A green macaron was held in front of your face, slowly forcing you to turn your head in its direction as it began to pull away from you

Him.

“Oh!”

Oh? If only you could hit yourself in the head that would be great.

“Oh?” Gojo chuckled, his brows pinching together in slight confusion at your reaction as his lips threatened to pull into a teasing smile, “I haven’t seen you in a year and that's what you’ve got to say?”

You try not to let your heart flutter at his cheeky manner as you roll your eyes, your smile growing as you take him in.

He’s gotten taller if that was even possible. His hair is still as white as it was, and it seems that no amount of sun was going to change that. He’s gotten a little bit tanner, no longer that frigid pale hue to his skin that made you worry he’d drop dead at any moment. He’s unfortunately more muscular, which just means you have to cast away the scrawny image you’ve made in your mind in hopes that he’d come back anemic.

His eyes are just as captivating as ever, blue and inviting. His jaw is sharper and yet he has no facial hair on his face. Which you prefer on most men but you’re glad he’s never given into that trend.

Most importantly, he still looks like that boy you fell in love with so many years ago, and no time away would ever change you at your core.

You try to not let your neck prickle with heat as he seems to assess you the same way you're doing to him, try not to feel self-conscious as his eyes roam over your features. Sure, a person can change in a year, but you wouldn’t bet you’ve changed that much that would warrant this amount of staring.

“So…?”

“‘Toru, hi!” You snap out of your state, watching as his face picks up and breaks into a grin as you set your plate down somewhere, seemingly now realizing that Satoru is here and in front of you, “My, you’ve grown so much!”

“Really?” He looks at his torso and his arms as if he can’t believe it.

“Well, a bit,” you curse at your awkwardness as he cocks a brow, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of my element tonight. I apologize for my earlier reaction.” You duck your head down for a second as he waves it off, hopefully not offended.

You’re glad this little table is tucked away in an alcove away from most of the public eye, and the only people around the two of you are older people and the people standing outside in the gardens. Either they don’t see the man or they’re being somewhat human and granting the two of you some privacy.

“Apology accepted, but not needed,” he teases, patting your shoulder affectionately as you try not to act as if that single touch made you reconsider the idea of marriage.

“How are you?” He asks after a beat, not affected by your out-of-character attitude as he tilts his head to the side.

“As good I could be,” you offer him a wink that came off as an elongated blink, “Whatever Lily filled you in on has most likely happened to me too.” He chuckles, his laughter the sound of melted honey.

Fuck, you’re never going to get over him.

“And you? How were your trips?” You egged him on, eyes tracing him, watching as some pink dusted over his cheeks.

“Boring. Couldn’t wait to come back.” He says, but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. Mixed with the way he couldn’t contain his bits of laughter, you laughed alongside him.

“I’d believe it if not for your tan and newfound outlook on life, or so it seems from how Lily describes it.”

“She exaggerates everything,” he waves it off, and you wonder what that double-edged sword implies.

“I-”

“He’s here!” You hear a loud voice cut you off as the two of you look over your shoulder to see his mother leading the awaiting princess and her train to where the two of you are standing, “He seems to be getting warmed up with this fine lady!” She says your name as heat rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment.

It was only seconds before you were surrounded by men and women you had never seen before, all hanging off of Satoru’s words as he scrambled to answer all of their questions.

And so it begins, you say to yourself as you push away from them, going to find Lily as you wonder why you even try.

You miss the way he calls out for you, quiet enough so that nobody else hears it, but loud enough that his chest tightens in confusion at the sheer desperation of it.

---

“I despise men!”

You’re at the Gojo estate for once, and Lily has started a new tirade that has lasted for the last hour.

“What brought this on?” You press, exchanging worried glances with Satoru and her younger sister as she groans, jamming her palms into her eyes as she vehemently shakes her head.

“Does this,” she shoves her hand, more importantly, her ring finger without a ring, in front of your face, “Look like I’m keen on getting married to you?”

“No….?” You mutter, scared of what she would say next.

“Does it look like an invitation to barge into my home?”

“Not exactly,” You say, earning a sympathetic look for Satoru as she glares at him.

“Does it look like I want to get frisky in the broom cupboards?”

“Christ! Lily, your sisters here!” You shout, jumping to cover the young girl's ears. Lily waves it off and Satoru just chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes as you usher the girl out of the tea room as you slam the door shut.

“This certainly beats the beaches in Venice,” Satoru says as you near the table again, winking at you as you laugh quietly.

“I’m so glad I’m not getting married. You should be too,” she points her finger at you as you look up at her, “Men are nothing but evil, money hungry, sex driven-”

“Charming, majestic-” Satoru talks over her as she talks even louder.

“Dirty animals!” She finishes with a cry.

You and Satoru share a glance as you try to laugh. She’s not wrong, far from it. The majority of men in this place needed to be sent back to their creator, but Lily had a vein in his forehead that was protruding at an odd angle.

“You laugh now, but you’ll be thanking me fifty years from now.” She warns as you nod, acting totally compliant with her.

“You’re still with her on her no-marriage pact?” Satoru asks as he stands up, walking past Lily as he looks out from the window, seemingly admiring the gardens outside. He glances over at you as you sink into the satin cushions beneath you.

“Yes,” but your answer came out shaky and unsure.

“Of course she is,” Lily answered for you with a definite nod, “And besides, she’s the luckier one. It’s not like any man has even asked her to marry anyway.” She says jokingly, shoving a biscuit in her mouth as she plops herself down beside you, nudging your shoulder with hers as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

You wish the sofa could swallow you whole.

“Hey,” Satoru turns around, brows furrowed as he looks at his sister, but the door opens before he can finish his sentence.

“Miss Gojo,” their butler, Fred, who you’ve known since you’ve known Lily announces for her as he stands at the foot of the door, “Your mother has requested your presence in her quarters.”

Lily stands up with a groan, wiping the crumbs off of her dress as she makes sure there’s nothing around the corners of her mouth.

“I’m needed elsewhere,” she pats your arm caring for it despite having her words wanting to make you plummet yourself off of a cliff, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You give her a weak goodbye, watching as she leaves with the door shutting behind her as you sit up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave yourself.

You stand up, careful not to make any eye contact with Satoru out of sheer embarrassment as you smooth out the wrinkles in your dress, hoping the silence would suffocate you faster than it would him.

“Lily talks too much sometimes,” he finally says, stepping away from the window as he takes a two closer to your direction, before passing, “I’d apologize on her behalf but I’m pretty sure she’s already forgotten what she’s said.” He tries to lighten the mood and bless his soul, but you can already feel your spirits for the day sour.

“It’s alright,” you promise, though he seems to disagree but you continue anyway, “I know her, she doesn’t mean it.” Still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, a part of you chides.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, taking another tentative step forward.

“I was planning on it,” you say with a little chuckle, hoping that your eyes watering up wasn’t too noticeable, “Is that alright with you?”

He looked at you with his bright eyes and just blinked, taking a while to reach his senses.

“Y-yes! Yes, quite alright. Let me just get my coat…” He muttered, brushing past you as you quickly tried to reject his incoming offer.

“There’s no need!” You run a bit to catch up to him and his fast pace, “My house is barely two skips away,” you lamely joke, hoping he’d give it up. You wanted to wallow in your self-pity on your walk home, not have to converse with the one man who’d inadvertently give you more to pity over.

“Not a chance,” he argued, draping the coat in question over his arm, “What sort of person would I be if I let you walk out alone?”

Any other person, you wanted to say but stopped yourself.

“I don’t mean to bother you…” You wrong your hands in a nervous state, eyes darting everywhere but his.

You were trying to work on your silly crush this past week, which had unfortunately ramped up ever since he came back. In response, you worked out that the best solution to getting over it was to act like he didn’t exist and ignore him whenever possible. Clearly, it was working out completely in your favor.

“Not a bother at all.” He insisted, linking his other arms with yours as you jumped a bit in surprise. He was forward, if anything.

“Fred,” he calls out, getting the butler's attention as you try to hide yourself away, “Tell my mother I’ll be back in a bit.” The man just nods, opening up the front doors as Satoru leads the two of you out.

The sun was out and working away, which didn’t help with the heat already prickling away through your skin. The Gojo estate was large, but hidden away, and for that you were glad. You could only imagine the gossip that would arise if certain ladies in society were to see you (helplessly) draped over the bachelor's arm.

“Are you enjoying being back here?” You asked, trying to exert your confidence when you were feeling anything but.

It’s not like you were unsure of yourself at most times, it’s just that when you’re around the one man you’ve been in love with since childhood and he feels nothing of the sort, you can’t help but be more conscious over everything.

Satoru looked at you, shrugging as he pursed his lips, thinking of an answer.

“I missed it,” he says, “But I mainly came back for my family and my friends and well…” He trailed off, chewing on his lip as he waved off his thoughts as if it didn’t matter, “Nonetheless, now that I’ve been around them, I remember why I wanted to leave.”

And sometimes, despite him not wanting to, made you feel as if you were the most important person he’s had the pleasure of talking to, when in reality that’s just in his nature.

“Is Lily pestering you too much?” You tease, a little smile on your face that wrinkles the edges of your eyes. He simply stared at you again, his eyes bright.

“That,” he playfully tugged on your arm, “And the fact that my mother has bombarded me with the idea of marriage. And Luke is having troubles with his fiancé and Annie doesn’t want to learn to read…it’s all just very chaotic.” He finished with a tired laugh, as if that’s all he could muster up.

“Seems like a normal day in your house, if I’m being honest.” You lament, kicking a pebble with the point of your shoe.

“I guess so,” he heaves a sigh that comes out dramatically, “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve put up with it all these years.”

You scoff, digging your elbow into his side a bit to show that you were offended by his statement.

“Your family is perhaps the closest thing I have to a second family!”

“And who says family can’t get on your last nerve?” He argued, and that shut you up. He was, indubitably, correct.

“Yes, well,” you stumble to find some reasoning and he laughs seeing you falter, knowing that he got you cornered, “‘Toru, you are simply a horrible influence to be around.” Is all you can come up with, and despite the severity of your words it only seems to spur him on even more.

“And yet you can’t seem to get enough of me, can you?”

You almost stopped in your tracks, your heart seizing in your chest as you try not to fumble up your well-made facade of indifference.

All you could remember upon his statement were the words he spoke so long ago, not knowing you’d heard them.

“Charles, you don’t get it, I don’t want a wife!” Satoru exclaimed as he snapped at his friend. It was a gala held at the queen's palace and you had strayed too far away from Lily and found yourself hiding behind a wall as you eavesdropped on the conversation.

“Not even the Princess?” Another man pushed as you heard Satoru let out a heavy sigh. You peeled around to see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want to be tied down. You saw what happened to my parents.” He argued. A part of you sympathized with him.

“Well,” you could make out this voice as his younger brother, two years older than you he went to thinking, “What about that friend of Lily’s? She seems nice enough.”

The hair on your arm pricked upwards. Surely they couldn’t be talking about you.

“Who?” Satoru asks and his brother says your name in a hushed whisper, as if you held more weight in your title than the Princess did.

“Her? No, absolutely not,” he said with such disgust that his friends thought he was joking, “You’re out of your mind if you’d think I’d want to court her.”

Your heart, full of love and hope and dreams cracked, crumbled in your chest. And you left, running away because that’s all you knew how to do and sobbed your eyes out to Lily, stating that you heard somebody talking bad about you, refusing to admit that it was her own brother that was causing you to break in front of her.

A part of you felt pathetic for still caring for him after that night, but there’s not much fight in you when it comes to the people you loved. You pulled away, sure, and stopped your lame excuses of flirting, but you never stopped. He never found out that you heard, so he continued as your friend and you continued as the shameless woman.

“Right,” you swallow thickly, glad that your estate is now growing closer and closer, knowing that you feel sick and can’t handle it anymore, “Thank you so much for your help, but I’m sure I can make the treacherous journey on my own now.”

You wring your hand away from his arm, you smile wobbling as you tip your head in his direction, watching him try to make sense of your quick change in nature.

“Let me take you up to your door,” he started but you raised your hand to silence him, shaking your head.

“That would be too much to ask for. I will leave you here…um, Satoru,” you say politely, not noting the way his jaw clenched at your sudden formality when addressing him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

And you left quickly before he could say anything else. You must stay focused on the reality of your situation;

Your best friend's brother just simply wasn’t in love with you.

---

“Miss,”

You perked up from your chair in your quaint little library, setting your book down as you watched one of the maids, Ella, politely calls from the door.

“There’s a gentleman outside calling for you.”

Your brows furrowed as you found a marker so that you don’t lose your place and purse your lips together in questioning.

“Do you know who…?” Your head cocked to the side as you stood up, walking near her as you wondered if it were that delivery boy who said he’d come with the new copies of the Brontë books you’d been eyeing for the past month.

“It’s the Viscount Gojo, miss.” She said simply.

Your face dropped, and you watched as confusion spread across hers.

“Him? Here? Did he say what was wrong?” You began to rustle around, trying to find something to throw on top of your slip.

Did something happen to Lily? Did she run away? Was their mother in trouble? You could recall her telling you that her head was aching, could something serious have happened because of that? Christ, you should have told somebody about it rather than comfort her and make her tea. Was he leaving again? Perhaps-

“He said he wanted to see you miss, that’s all he told me.” She seemed apprehensive, judging your face to see if you were maybe feeling ill due to your reaction.

“Um, alright, just,” you hurried around, trying your fastest to get to your room, “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes! Don’t tell him I’m preparing myself, just say that I was discussing matters with somebody!” You call out as you sprint across the halls, not hearing any confirmation as you lock yourself in your room, ransacking your closet to find something not too flashy but not too boring.

It took a good four minutes just to find a suitable dress and another five to make your face and hair look presentable enough as you scampered down the stairs only to find said Viscount waiting in the foyer.

His face turned to yours as he heard your heels clicking on the marble, growing into a bright smile as he dipped his head down to greet you.

“Hello,” he said your name with that smooth voice of his as he took his jacket off and kept it on his arm, “I’m sorry for turning up on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” you try to catch your breath for the first time in the last ten minutes as your chest heaves slightly up and down, “No problem at all. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He takes a second to respond, eyes scanning your features, your clothing, your chest as it tries to catch a solid breath, and you feel yourself look down to make sure there aren't any noticeable wrinkles in the fabric.

“I, I just wanted to drop in. See how you were doing.”

You tried not to look even more startled, but your brows creased once again as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek.

“I’m quite alright…thank you…?” You couldn’t look that out of the ordinary, right?

“Good, that’s good,” he watched as you finished your descent down the stairs, slowly coming towards him as you waited for him to finish, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation with…?” Ella did give him a name you wanted to guess.

“Lord Cornwallis.” You finished for him, not knowing why that was the first name that came to your mind. It was true that he had been here yesterday, but you didn’t talk much to him in his brief visit.

“Lord Cornwallis?” Satoru repeated back in shock, his brows shooting upwards as he did nothing to hide his outburst. His face quickly turned into one of disgust, which accurately represented the emotions you felt yesterday when you eavesdropped on the conversation he had with your mother behind closed doors.

“Yes, you just missed him. He went out through the back door,” why were you making this web of lies even bigger? You have no self-control, do you?

“What was Cornwallis doing here?”

You but your tongue, having to come up with a lie or tell the truth as to why he had visited yesterday. Either way, both options turned out with horrible results.

“He asked for my hand.” The truth it was, then.

His brows seemed to disappear into his hairline as his jaw slacked, mouth wide open. Damn your mind, you should have just lied.

Lily was wrong in one thing, perhaps. You have gotten a few marriage offers in the last three years, but by all men who were older than your grandfather. You hadn’t even told Lily about them and now you were telling her brother.

“I…” Satoru couldn’t even find the right words to say. You wanted to bury yourself in a hole.

“…Cornwallis? Isn’t he-”

“Pushing ninety-nine? Yes.” Nobody was sure of his age, and ninety-nine was perhaps even being too generous. Everybody knew that Cornwallis was simply ancient.

“Did I save you from the conversation at least? I must say, if there was any man I would wish ill upon, it’s certainly him. He’s a lying old cheat.” He tried to joke again but you swallowed thickly. Perhaps if he came at the same time yesterday he might have. But he didn’t and you had to sit through an hour of him pleading with your mother as the two of you just stared in abject horror and surprise.

“Yes well, thank you…for doing that.” You lied, cleaning your teeth together as you tried to smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings as you came up closer to him, desperately hoping to change the topic of the conversation.

“Is everything alright with Lily?” You asked his eyes that were focused on the floor jumping to yours as your lips parted, worry still clear on your face.

“Yes, of course, I just wanted to ask a favor of you. But, judging from your encounter with men today I would understand if this is pushing it,” he cut right to the crux of the matter. He seemed nervous, which was an odd emotion to see on a man otherwise very confident and sure in himself. It unsettled you.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to find his words and continue. You could make out the slight blush on his face, the pink hue that spread across his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He was, by all means, the cutest person you’ve ever seen.

“My mother's holding another ball, two weeks from now, you see,” his lip caught between his teeth, “And she’s been bugging me about having a date for the night. She wants to appease the rest of the gentry, I suppose. Would you, by any chance, like to be that?”

You stopped computing his words.

“...It’s honestly just to get her off my back. And you wouldn’t have to stay with me the entire evening, you could do whatever you’d like after we get some of the necessities over with. Lily was the first who suggested the idea, she said you wouldn’t be doing much other than gossip with her. Of course, if you don’t want to I certainly won’t force the idea, but it’s merely a suggestion.” His blue eyes, ever so convincing and round and caring bore into yours, and despite your better judgment you find yourself nodding.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you say a bit breathlessly, completely forgetting about Cornwallis and the way you were debating it and the fact that this means nothing at all, and would most likely cause you more harm than good.

His nervousness washed away into a big smile, and you cursed yourself at the little flicker of hope you felt deep in your soul as he scrambled to find the right words to say to thank you. The flood of gratitude and appreciation stabbed deeply into your heart as he kept repeating friend, but you were too hopeful for love.

Your mother always said that loving would always be your greatest weakness.

---

You should have said no.

The amount of eyes that were focused on you was enough to make you nauseous, and you couldn’t get sick for you hadn’t had anything to eat today with how hurried everything was.

Your arm was draped around Satoru’s, and he held tightly onto your hand. He was the image of luxury and charisma right now, and if you were in the crowd looking as he made his way through the crowd you almost would have wanted to bow.

Time came by a lot faster when you were totally freaking out over it, and before you knew it, you were put in a dress you hadn’t even picked and corseted to the heavens. Your hair was done with extra detail, and they even went as far as putting some Swarovski’s into it so that when the candlelight hit it, you’d sparkle twice as much.

Satoru, ever the gentleman, had picked you up from your estate as he walked you to their home amidst all the chaos of getting ready for another ball. In all honesty, you have no idea how their mother manages to keep her sanity through all of this.

You were still a bit giddy from your earlier interaction with Satoru, although it didn’t do much to calm your nerves now.

“I’m sorry for taking so long!” You had said as you rushed down your stairs, careful not to trip over your train as you put your earrings in. Ella said that he was waiting for you downstairs, you just underestimated how early he’d be.

“Don’t apologize…” He had turned around from admiring a painting, his eyes widening a bit when he saw you. He quickly shut his mouth, but you had already gauged his reaction. You tried not to let it get the best of you, but you could have sworn he blushed more often than usual when you interlinked your arm with his.

“You’re cutting off my blood circulation.” He whispers in your ear as you try to smile, your eyes nervous as they dart around the room. How could it be even bigger than that last ball? Did they suddenly meet thirty new people?

“Maybe you could cut mine off.” You snap back through your teeth, your hand gripping his wrist as tightly as you could.

“How are we supposed to dance if one of us is dead?” He grumbles back, putting on a little grin as he makes eye contact with his mother, and then goes back to whispering, “It’s just one song and you’re done. You’ve done this before.”

You wanted to shove him to the ground.

“No, I haven’t!” You say loud enough that he hears but try to mask it so that nobody else does, “I told you yesterday this is my first time dancing with somebody!” As embarrassing as it was to admit, right now you couldn’t be bothered to care as he led you to the middle of the room, standing in first position as you two waited for the orchestra to begin.

“Are you saying I’m your first?” He teased, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he watched you grow mortified, rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting way as his means to apologize.

You wanted to go ahead and argue but the cello and violins started and you were whisked away by his calculated movements, and the only thing you could do was follow in his lead.

The two of you practiced a bit in the days leading up to this, but it was a lot different when your only crowd was Lily and her constant whining about how boring it was.

Now, with everybody staring at you and him, it was far more daunting.

“Don’t look at the ground, look at me,” he whispered in your ear, smiling when your eyes traveled to him. He tried not to crack when he saw the pure loathing and hatred in them, but at least you were looking up and not at his shoes.

“‘Toru I’m never doing a favor for you again, you owe me.” You groan, letting him twirl you around in a circle as some of the ladies give a polite clap.

“Name your price.” He egged you on, bringing you back flush against his chest as his hand found purchase on your waist.

“Not money,” you grumble, eyes twitching as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, you’ve always wanted to dance with him, sure, but not under these circumstances.

“Books?” You consider it but shake your head. You deserve something bigger for what you’re putting yourself through. Shocking enough, after being a wallflower for so many years, you weren’t handling being in the spotlight too well.

“I’ll think about it. But it has to be big.” You warn and he lifts up his pinky on your waist to show you his unbridled loyalty to keeping true to your words.

“Where are you going after this is done?” He spins the two of you around, and you watch as more couples rush around the two of you. It’s less stressful when others are dancing, but you still feel tense.

“I’m probably going to stay with Lily outside.” He seems to deflate a little, though he still stands tall, his suit never crinkling through his movements.

“No more dancing?” He teased but you vehemently disagree with the idea.

“Never again.” It’s not as though you hate it, in fact, a younger you would have been jumping with glee to be able to dance with Satoru. But after years of growing accustomed to watching rather than participating, you can’t grow out of that habit.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the Princess herself as she looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Would you mind if…?” She motioned to Satoru and then to you. You barely noticed the number coming to an end, and the rupture of applause was the last thing you heard before you scrambled away from him.

You didn’t even notice how he had held onto your hand tighter, not wanting to let you go.

“O-of course, your majesty.” You winced at your select choice of words and how you said her title almost as if you questioned it.

“Thank you.” She mumbled and for somebody of such high regard, you wouldn’t think of her to need to plead with somebody, especially you, to be able to have a dance with Satoru.

Your job for the night was done, successfully might be too loose of a term, but finished nonetheless. You chose not to look back at Satoru, knowing that the wide grin he’d save for the girls he was interested in would only twist that knife deeper into your heart.

You were a sadist in the most pathetic way possible.

You waved goodbye to Satoru as another number started again, and tried your best to get away from all the twirling bodies as you headed out to find Lily.

It didn’t take long until you found her trying to weasel out some information from her brother, tapping him repeatedly on the shoulder as he tried to fight her off.

“…what did you hear, what do you know?” She pressed as he groaned, obviously trying to have a private conversation with the lady next to him.

“Nothing Lily!” He locked eyes with you as he almost begged silently for you to take her.

“Lily, I’m here. We can go now.” You looped elbows with her as you dragged her away, giving her brother a quick smile that said you accepted his gratefulness.

As you walked through the stone path in the garden, she muttered dejectedly about how she was just about to get some good information out of him.

“How was dancing with Satoru?” She finally asked after a while. The two of you weren’t alone, but far less crowded than it would if you had been inside.

“Stressful, but the song was short so I wasn’t needed for too long.” You tell her honestly. If there’s one thing you can’t do with Lily it’s lie, for she’ll sniff out of you the moment you come up with it.

“You look flustered.” She noted, looking over your face and the sweat that dotted over your cheekbones.

“You dance in a sweltering room like that with the entire ton looking at you and try not to get flustered.” You reasoned and she seemed to buy it. It wasn’t a total lie, but a stretch of the truth.

“You know,” Lily had terrible balance and often collided with you as she walked, “I was talking to my mother and despite her insistent warnings, I think we should make it official.”

“Make what official?” The lights from the candles above you illuminated her face and she had that look of mischief that either excited or frightened you.

“That we plan to be unwed.” She grinned cheek to cheek and all you could feel was that same wave of nausea that had been prickling at you since the start of the night. This was the last thing you needed to hear about right now.

“They’re going to think we’re either lunatics or lovers.” You say with a sullen and heavy sigh, looking up at the sky in some sort of desperate manner as you wait for some sort of angel to save you from this conversation.

“And what’s the issue with that? Let them think. You have always said you’ve wanted this, so let’s let the world know.”

Something you wish Lily was was to be more aware. As loving, thoughtful and caring as she was, she never seemed to pick up on the little things. For one, you doubted she noticed just how quiet you got whenever she brought up this conversation. You’d give her the benefit of the doubt and say that you rarely talked much when it came to marriage, but that was just so that you could save yourself from the ongoing embarrassment of never having experienced love or some sort of feeling that somebody would feel towards you to genuinely want to be your husband.

Not only that, but far from Lily's point of help, is the fact that ever since Satoru has been back, your childish feelings have come flooding right in with him. No matter how many tea sessions you have with Lily and have him sitting in the background, either reading the morning's paper or jotting things down in his journal, it always spins to him sitting right beside you as you talk about anything under the sun.

And while you know your hopes of marrying him are just too far-fetched, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Something Lily just hasn’t ever been able to pick up on when around you. Which is shocking, seeing how the only novels you’ve read for the majority of your life was centered around such a topic.

“Listen, Lily, I’ve been thinking,” you pause for a second in your place, staring at the pebbles arranged in the formation of a star as you swallow your bile, “That maybe…”

You were nervously wringing your hands together, a sign that Lily knew all too well. She could read you like any of her books, and she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with a shaky hand as she pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“No,” she dug the finger into your chest, “You’re thinking of breaking up the pact?” It comes out breathless. Her soft curls of white that had been done up beautifully were slowly falling down as she shook her head in pure shock, not giving you a chance to talk.

“I mean this is just brilliant. Brilliant! What am I supposed to do now, go out into the world alone as a spinster?”

You stuttered, your fingers interlaced with one another as you tried to calm her down from causing a scene. Trying to shush her came to no avail as you wring your hands away from her, acting as if your touch was burning.

If the Gojo’s were anything, it’s overly dramatic in places where dramatics were certainly not needed.

“Please be rational,” she urged you as she clutched onto your wrists, suddenly pleading to you with her wide eyes, “The season is almost over and you haven’t had any offers. Sooner than later we’re going to be thirty, then forty, then fifty, and husbandless. We should say it now so that it doesn’t come off as a pathetic cry to hold onto what little decency we have in the future!”

Christ, you hated that she was being somewhat logical. But her rationality stung, the way melted wax does when it burns the skin. She didn’t know just how much she was hurting you, and you doubted she ever would.

“Look, I know I’m probably not going to be offered a chance at marriage, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least try.” You try to reason with her as she sniffs, her eyes squinted as she looks at you in anger.

“This was our pact and you’re going against it! What’s next?”

You were going to argue that this pact was only made on the basis of her having too much champagne to drink and you being sullen over her brother, but you were cut off from getting the chance to do so.

“What’s your issue?”

You turned around at the familiar voice as you saw Satoru nearing you, Lily continuing her rant as she seemed to completely miss that her brother was coming towards the two of you.

“What?” You felt overwhelmed with having two Gojo’s corner you, both rather angry from the looks of it.

“I know that this isn’t your scene but you said you’d be my date. You don’t have to dance with me, but at least be there.” He looks like he’s seething, and you’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s jarring, to say the least.

You feel like your head is about to explode.

“I just-”

“....and my mother was only more confident in the idea if you were doing it!” Lily exclaimed, causing you to look back at her as she urged you to think about it.

“...my mother has given me at least twenty women to mull over in the last twenty minutes. It would have been none if you just acted as my date for the night!” Satoru’s voice rose, and you felt like your heart was going to actually stop. Your head was spinning, your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hear anything besides a loud ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry but-” The two of them talked over you, so stuck in their own worlds that they didn’t notice the tears pricking at your eyes or the way you seemed to be short of breath. It would probably be one of their greatest flaws, never noticing something until it was far too late.

“Stop!” You cried out, earning some looks from the people around you as you rubbed at your forehead, already feeling it ache under your touch, “Please! Listen, just for a bloody second!”

You took a deep breath and began.

“I’m a fucking romantic Lily, and nothing’s ever going to change that! I always have been! And I want to get married, I just agreed to your pact because I know I’m probably never going to get that chance! And god, how can your only takeaway from reading Persuasion be to abstain from marriage?” Your nose crinkles in anger as you turn around to point your finger at her brother's chest, watching as he takes your reaction in obvious surprise.

“You!” You cry out and he almost backs away, “I was trying to give you some courtesy by leaving! God forbid you gave anybody the idea that you were courting me!” You quickly wipe at your eyes but it does fuck all of hiding how you truly felt as your lips wobbled.

“Why would…?” He's breathless, no longer angry, just utterly confused and a wee bit frightened.

“We both know you’re too good for that. How’d you phrase it, you’d be out of your mind if you did such a thing?” You throw his own words back at him, and you watch in some sort of mixture of triumph and heartbreak as realization washes over his features.

He finally remembers.

“I…” he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair as it fell out of his face, rubbing at his jaw as you looked at you from beneath his lashes, “I didn’t…” but he can’t finish his sentences and instead stops, sharing an unreadable look with his sister as they then look at you.

“I’m going home.” You say after a beat of silence, breathing deeply through your nose as you look away from the two of them.

“Let me-” Satoru started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I think I’d be better off alone.” You snap, nostrils flaring as you shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to stop the already impending migraine that is about to come.

For once in your life, you didn’t care about the eyes boring into your back or the way that whispers flew around you and twisted around your throat like a vine. You were glad that nobody else other than the servants was home as you ran up into your room, locking everybody else out as you sobbed into your pillows.

---

The days following your (well-deserved) outburst were more than rough.

To your knowledge, Lily has visited a total of ten times in the past five days, sometimes twice in the same one, while her brother has visited a grand total of zero. You didn’t expect much from him, but this really cemented your quickly growing disdain.

Your mother informed you constantly that she was trying to put out the fires from that night but you couldn’t bring it to feel too bad, after all, you were glad that you didn’t say anything more drastic.

“This is just so unlike you!” She cried, shaking in disappointment as you munched on some sweets you nicked from the kitchen.

“I know,” you chuckled, “I’m so proud of myself.”

She just throws her hands in the air as a sign of utterly giving up and storms out of the room, most likely to meet with somebody else to “clean up the mess.”

She was right for some part, you can’t remember the last time you actually told somebody how you were feeling. It’s not healthy on your end, but growing up with three older sisters who always got it their way meant that you had some lack of backbone.

Lily and Satoru, as much as you cared about them, didn’t live like that. Their mother loved them all equally and she made sure that all of their voices were heard. She was always making sure that their priorities were met and she never made them feel inferior.

Which somehow, didn’t pass on to you.

Loving the way you do got tiring when you got nothing back, and giving everybody your all when nobody seemed to notice it felt as though you were alone in a world full of people who cared for each other. You’ve read the books and heard the stories, but you eventually realized that it simply just wasn’t in your cards to be dealt the same thing.

They cared, you know they did. But sometimes, it felt like they expected your care in order for them to show it to you.

“Miss?” you heard a faint voice and a knock at your door. You sat up from your slump as Ella slowly came inside, shutting the door soundly behind her.

“Did my mother ask you to make sure I haven’t flung myself off the balcony?” You dust away any crumbs from your pull over as you stare out the window.

“I’m making sure you didn’t.”

Your head snapped over at the familiar voice only to see Lily standing at the foot of your bed, looking out of place with her bright purple dress. She looked like she was teetering back and forth between staying out and sprinting away, and you admired her courage after how many times you’ve turned down her offer.

You glared at Ella but she was no longer there, leaving you and Lily alone.

“You’re just in time then.” You say blandly, standing up from your bed as you make the covers and are careful not to come too close to her. She seemed to notice.

“We can’t go about this forever,” she stated, rounding the corner of your bed as she took three steps forward while you took one back, not wanting to be cornered again the way you were that night, “This silent treatment is killing me.”

“Then die,” you don’t mean it and she knows it, but her face wobbles for a second and you watch in horror as tears spring to Lily's eyes.

The last time Lily cried the two of you were fifteen and her brothers had effectively ruined the singular dress she had actually been looking forward to wearing by staining it with ink. You spent at least an hour calling her down and trying to rationalize with her until you finally gave up and offered to cut holes in all of their suits.

You’re not sure you could do that now.

“I’m sorry!” She sprung herself forward at you with full throttle as she hugged you tightly, “You’re right! There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic!” You don’t know what to do as you stand there in shock so you awkwardly pat her back, her long white hair never loose so you’ve never really seen it to its full extent.

“My brother and I have been at war with each other trying to put the blame on somebody else but I’m sorry! You of all people deserve to find love,” she looks up and her eyes just look like oceans and it’s unfair how pretty she looks when she cries because you just look like a mess, “Please, please forgive me.”

You look as she refuses to pull away from you, clutching desperately onto the thin fabric of your nightgown that your mother reprimanded you for not getting out of, and slowly feel your hands circle around her back as you pull her into a hug.

“Honestly,” you shake your head as she looks up at you, cheeks rosy with streaks of tears and her lip wobbles violently, “I’m probably going to be on that pact ten years from now. But I just-”

“Want to try!” She finished your sentence for you, something the two of you always prided in being able to do, “and that’s respectable too!”

You try not to smile but the corners of your lips tug upwards as you nod, Lily waiting with bated breath as she scanned your reaction.

“Don’t ever treat me like that again, you hear me?”

She vehemently nods, pulling away as she wipes at her eyes, holding out her oinks finger as she waits for you to latch on. Sure, it was a childish way of making a promise, but Lily was never the serious sort of person. If anything, this is the most you’ve ever seen her apologize about something.

“I promise with the depths of my soul. If I do, brand me with an iron.” Your eyes widen as you go to disagree but she won’t take it.

“I swear.” She repeats gravely.

You look at her pinky for another second before you bring yours up, not believing that this is still how the two of you go about making amends.

“Alright then,” you heave a sigh, “I forgive you.”

Her face breaks into a wide and toothy smile as she pulls you in for a tighter hug, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as she pulls back away.

“You’ll never regret this, I swear,” she looked radiant, but quickly stopped as she looked down at the ground, trying to gather her thoughts on how to break the news to you, “Now, be prepared for another one.”

You blink slowly, brows furrowed in confusion as you lean on your bedpost, arms crossing as your lips purse.

“What?”

She almost looks ashamed again, looking at the clock on your wall.

“My mother’s invited you over for dinner. Get ready to see the other Gojo.”

---

Your mother, as difficult as she was to deal with at most times, somehow understood the concept of showing off through a good wardrobe.

You wouldn’t put any bets on the fact that if your outfits were significantly better you might have had at least one man approach you in all these years, but it certainly could have been a possibility.

The cut was lower than all your normal dress, and with the help of your corset, pushed the sisters up a considerable amount.

The color was the most flattering you’ve ever seen, and through the utilization of crystals and diamonds encrusted in the fabric itself, it shined perfectly when the light hit it.

For the first time, you were glad your mother picked out your outfit.

Unfortunately, the outfit gave you only so much confidence. When you walked into the Gojo estate, thankfully with Lily on your side, all the memories from that night came flooding back and your stomach flipped upside down.

You were glad that Lily was seated next to you at the dinner table as well, but it didn’t help that Satoru was seated in front of you, glaring daggers into your face as you tried to avoid looking at him.

“Now, you didn’t tell me about your plans for the next year, with the season already coming to an end.” Their mother, bless her heart, asked as she loaded some peas into her fork, looking at you with her kind eyes as you struggled to think of a good enough answer.

“I’m planning on taking a marriage offer up, actually,” you say, trying not to look at Lily for you knew she was already giggling.

In the past five hours, you filled her in on everything, and she decided the best way to get Satoru to say something was if you went with the idea.

“Oh?” You watched as she perked up in interest, as did the rest of the Gojo family. An offer?

“Yes,” you nodded, “Lord Cornwallis, actually, if you’ve heard of him?”

Lily was gleaming as she saw her brother clench his jaw as he stared at the side of your face that was still looking at their mother.

“L-lord Cornwallis?” You felt bad for lying to her, but you could just come back later and say you’ve changed your mind, “He must be at least-”

“Ninety-nine?” You answered for her as her cheek warmed, “Some say he’s just in his prime, yes.”

She drank some of her wine.

“Isn’t that desperate?” Satoru finally said and you heard a loud clatter from the end of the table as their mother angrily sat her cup down, glaring at her son.

“Satoru!” She exclaimed, the rest of the girls and boys watching in tense silence as they waited for your reply.

“It’s alright,” you shrugged, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, “And yes, it could come off as desperate. However, I would rather go to a man who finds no problem in courting me rather than somebody who’d tell the whole world just how much it would disgust him to be seen with me.”

You could swear you heard a tooth crack.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something-” One of the brothers piped up but Satoru acted as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Well if that man were drunk out of his wits-”

“Then he let his sober thoughts reign free.” You finish for him, nostrils flaring as Satoru twisted the ring on his forefinger back and forth.

“Again, Miss Gojo, I’m simply thinking over his offer.” You finish, seeing how she could barely take her eyes off of her son as she blinked towards you, giving a shaky smile as she nodded.

“Of course, there’s no…no problem in that.” She swallowed uncomfortably, as did everybody else. You peeked over at Lily to find her just as you suspected, beaming with silent joy.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I think my dress has come a bit undone. I’m going to call for somebody to fix it.” You say, excusing yourself as you try to go ahead with the plan you had set in the first place.

“Make him mad, really mad. Say something about Cornwallis, he despises him,” Lily muttered, sitting cross-legged on your bed as she urged you to listen to her directions, “Then excuse yourself. Say you’ve got to use the privy or something, doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, listening intently as she laid it on thick for what she had been picking up on for the past couple of days.

“Go upstairs and find his room, you know where it is. Be quick with it too, but there’s this box on his desk that’s full of letters. I swear on my Austen collection that there is a letter with your name on it.”

You felt your heart tumble.

“Are you sure?” You asked, glancing at the clock to make sure you wouldn’t be late to dinner.

“Positive. And I’d get it if I could, but he’s so secretive with his room that this is probably the one time it’s going to be unlocked. He’d never suspect anybody going snooping at this hour.”

You grinned, knowing that if you finally got that little something to use against him, he’d have no choice but to grovel at your feet for the rest of his life.

You quickly scampered up the stairs, telling one of their mates that you’d be able to fix your dress on your own and that you’d be stashed away in Lily's room for the time being, and mentally times yourself as you quickly paced through the halls, looking for the familiar dark oak that would be Satoru’s room.

Just when you were about to get lost in their maze of a house, you stopped triumphantly behind the last door at the end of the hall, staring deeply at it as you weighed your options.

You quickly caved, slowly reaching out to the doorknob to see if it was locked.

It swung open, and you let out a sigh of relief and looked around a final time to make sure that nobody had followed you before you fully let yourself inside.

It was dark, and you left the door slightly open so that the light from the halls could sleep in a bit, and you went to work on locating the box on his desk that Lily had described to you.

You squint your eyes, wincing as you bumped into furniture as you made your way to the corner of the large room, blindly reaching and grabbing for anything on the mahogany desk that would resemble a box.

You let out a sound of triumph as you found a square-shaped glass-feeling thing filled to the brim with papers, holding it upwards to the sliver of light as you quickly ran through the letters with your fingers and you tried to find one with your name on it.

They seemed like they were all unsent, with many of them labeled to his mother or siblings, and a few to his friends, but you didn’t find any of them labeled to you, and you quickly felt your heart and hopes sink. This was taking far too long.

Just as you were about to give up, you passed a smaller shaped letter with cursive that looked familiar, in the sense that you had seen it addressed before, and pulled it out only to see your name staring back at you.

A part of you almost wanted to sink into the chair behind the desk, your heart beating rapidly in the small vastness of your ribcage as you held it back up to the light, seeing a note tucked neatly away through the transparency of the envelope.

Your nimble fingers went to rip the seal of wax off, but stopped as the door swung open.

“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru stood at the doorway, blocking the rest of the light as his shadow cast over you.

You dropped the letter, quickly hiding it behind your back as he stepped in, getting closer to you as you abruptly stood up, trying to come up with a feasible lie as you rounded away from his desk, trying to get away from him and his massive build.

“Oh?” You looked around as if suddenly realizing this wasn’t the place you were supposed to be, “Is this not Lily’s room? Silly me, I couldn’t make it out in the dark. I’ll be leaving now if you’ll excuse me…” You turned around, brushing past him but stopping when you felt his long fingers circle your wrist, turning you around as his eyes squinted.

“Bullshit,” you flinched, never having heard him curse before as his hands felt around yours, finding the letter you were doing a terrible job of hiding, “You know this house better than your own. Why the hell are you in my room?”

You didn’t say anything as he brought your hand out from behind your back, opening up your closed fist with much ease to reveal the crumpled-up envelope. Your chest heaved up and down, waiting with bated breath as he stared silently at the letter. You balled your fists back up again, stepping away from him as he followed you quickly in your footsteps.

“Give that to me y/n,” his voice was low and commanding, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before, and if you weren't in your rebellious mood (and somewhat in your independent, not totally in-love-with-him mood) you would have caved, but you shook your head, looking behind you as to make sure you didn’t back into his bed frame.

“It’s got my name on it.” You argued, knowing it was a terrible excuse, and you watched him chuckle darkly, knowing that you had no good reason for being in his room and sifting through his letters.

“And yet it was in my room, in my letterbox, on my desk.” He snapped, eyes a deep blue and different from the usual lightness they carried. He wasn’t joking and he wasn’t lying, he needed that letter back.

Which just made you want it even more.

You didn’t know what to do, so the only logical thing in your sporadic mind was to shove it down your dress, hiding it in your chest as Satoru watched your movements like a hawk, not saying anything as you defiantly showed him your now empty hands.

“Get it now Satoru,” you challenged him, not realizing you had backed up into the wall until your head lightly bounced off from it, wincing at the sting as you looked back behind you.

He didn’t say anything, and it seemed like his mind was running as quickly as it could as he tried to deal with whatever it was you were doing. Instead, he just three more languid steps forward, nearly face to face with you as he stared down at you, eyes darting from yours to your lips and chest.

Under any other circumstances, you would have felt like shedding your clothes off from how heated you felt under his gaze. Here, your only resort was to keep them on, to see what was so important about that letter.

“I came to find you to apologize,” his voice is low and calm, his cool breath hitting your cheek as you struggle to keep your composure, “To be civil. To tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said that night.”

Despite your mixed emotions, you felt your brows furrow at his select choice of words.

“Are you here to tell me now that you actually meant every word?” You couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth, knowing that the answer would probably send you into a state you could never get out of as the person you’ve loved for the majority of your life confirms your biggest fears.

But shockingly, he just shakes his head, his lips pink and plush and you’ve never found yourself focusing on them more than you are now.

If only you knew that he felt the same as he looked at you.

“No,” he stepped closer, if possible, but still had room to shove him away. But you didn’t, not now, you couldn’t, didn’t want to as his nose nudged yours a bit, your lashes fluttering against your cheek as your lips parted, waiting for him to do something,

“I’ll show you that I didn’t mean them.”

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs contracting as his face fell towards yours, your lips meeting ever so slowly as they finally landed on yours, soft and somehow delicate as they pushed against yours, finalizing the kiss as he began to move them.

You’ve never kissed anybody before, often dreaming about it as you lay in bed hopelessly in love, but never thought you’d be here from the man you’ve imagined on the other side doing it with him.

He moved slowly as if he knew that this was your first time, and you didn’t know how to handle your emotions as he angled his chin to get closer to you, his lips capturing you in such a heated and feverish pace that you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight as you thought back on it.

His hands slowly came up to your waist, tugging you flush against his body as your hands somehow found their way behind his neck, finger curling into his long strands of arctic white as he groaned against you when you tugged a bit, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

You were impatient, always have been, and it probably took him a little bit by surprise as you quickened the pace, hungry after so many years of starving for this as you pushed against him for more fervor, feeling him smile slightly against your lips as he met you in the middle, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as you whined slightly as the feeling.

He nipped at your lips, his tongue poking out from in between yours, and you absentmindedly opened your mouth a little bit to make room for him, heart and mind working in tandem as he brought up a hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t hit the wall as he pushed against you.

It was messy and hurried, and for once, it felt as if he felt the same you were feeling. As if he too wanted this, needed this more than air itself, and that thought alone made your mind stop functioning.

Your hands moved from his neck to his chest, fingers clutching onto the satin fabric of his suit, wrinkling the fabric as your noses bumped against each other, sheer desperation showing from the two of you.

“Viscount Gojo?”

The two of you almost jumped at the knock that sounded from the door.

“Your mother is asking where you are. She’s worried about the lady as well,” Fred didn’t peek his head in, and for that you were grateful. You were sure you looked like a total mess at the moment, but Satoru spoke, glancing at the door as he took a deep breath, almost as if it was his first time breathing in a couple of minutes.

“Tell her that we’re working things out. It’ll take a bit more time.” His voice sounded steady enough, but from where you were standing you could see how swollen his lips were, the fact that they were red and glistening with sweat. His hand on your waist tightened as if he didn’t want to let you go, and your hand lay flat against his chest.

“Of course,” Fred answered, “Take your time.” He shut the door completely, and the two of you waited until you heard his footsteps becoming softer and softer until you could no longer hear them.

You waited, looking in the direction for another second before you looked up at him only to see his eyes gauging yours for a reaction, somehow a storm going on behind them as he battled twenty different emotions.

“I’m still hurt Satoru,” you whisper, his eyes never changing but his shoulders tense a bit as you drop your hands away from him, as if you were suddenly coming to your senses and realizing what you had just done, “I can't forgive you this easily.”

You don’t know how to handle your feelings sometimes, and sometimes they catch up to you later than they should. You could still hear his words from that night ringing around your mind and nothing was stopping it no matter how hard you tried.

“Come get the letter when you’re ready to apologize with more than just your lips.”

You look back up at him one more time before you push away, feeling him lightly move away from you to give you space as you smooth out the front of your dress, touching your face to make sure that none of the makeup and powder that was swiped against your face wasn’t wrecked as you left.

You don’t look back as you left him silently in his room, shutting the door behind you as you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you went back down to dinner.

---

A week passed since your night with Satoru, and you’ve come to terms with the fact that he regrets it.

It hurts, it hurts even more when you convince yourself that he probably was trying to take pity on you and test how true his old words were, but you couldn’t spiral, knowing that it would cause even more turmoil.

Lily came by regardless, under the impression that you and her brother made up and are on better terms, and you're in no rush to tell her the truth of what happened.

She asked about the note, but you insisted that you couldn’t find it. She grumbled that he probably threw it away after she pestered him constantly about it.

“What about Lord Balfour?” She was sprawled out on your bed, her legs crossed resting it up against the wall with her head at the opposite end, looking on a piece of parchment in which she had gone around asking for men looking for marriage (and a true romantic connection, she stressed).

“Hm, too bald,” you said, sitting in your vanity, washing off the rest of the powder on your face as you dipped the soft cotton cloth back into the pitcher of water as you looked at her through the mirror, “Isn’t he a year younger than us?”

She pouted as she thought, looking back to her list as she crossed off that name.

“Count Alexei?” She seemed to like this one and you set your towel down, trying to place a face to the name.

“Isn’t he from Russia? Wouldn’t it be difficult for him to come back and forth?” You asked and she nodded, although she seemed more sad that you didn’t want him.

“Have you just gone around the ton asking if anybody’s looking for marriage?” You teased and she turned around, sitting up as she wiped the hair out of her face.

“I take your journey to find true love very serious,” she argued and you snorted, knowing that it was a kid if that and the fact that she liked judging the men of the higher class, “Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not.” You turn around from your chair as you face her, urging her to continue.

“Duke Cambell?” She looked up from the list with a raised brow, only to find you looking the same, taking more time to consider the name.

“He explicitly stated he’d consider marriage? With me?” You tilt your head to the side. Surely it would be too good to be true. He wasn’t too pretty, nobody was like Satoru, but he wasn’t that bad to look at either.

“He seemed quite eager about it, actually.” She said, and you smiled a bit, feeling like a silly schoolgirl with the way you ducked your head.

“He’s a bit shy, isn’t he?” You said with a little giggle and she snorted, nodding as she circled his name and put a question mark next to it.

“Just means he’s more apt to moan louder,” she said blandly and your mouth dropped, burrowing your face in your hands at her very open nature. Even after ten years it sometimes caught you off guard.

“Lily!” You shouted, trying to hold in your laugh, and she just looked at you as if you should have expected this as she rose from your bed, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a frantic yawn.

The sun had already set and she knew her mother would be expecting her to arrive soon, and you went to stand but stopped you.

“No need to stand, I’ll bid farewell from here.”

You rolled your eyes at her dramatics, picking up the cloth again as you dabbed at your cheeks.

“I assume you’ll be here tomorrow?” Crossing your legs as she shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Yes. In fact, I’ll leave this prized list with you so that you can mull it over,” she walked over a bit and set it down on the top of your vanity, looking at you as she put a solemn hand on your shoulder, “Do think over Count Alexis. He is rather dreamy.”

You chuckled, waving goodbye to her as she left the door with a litter thud, blowing kisses as you snorted at her exaggerated act, turning back around to your mirror as you wiped away the remaining bits of your makeup.

You were already in your dressing gown, the material soft and light on your skin as you set the cloth back down, drying your face off with another one as you got ready to sleep.

With meticulous care you took your earrings off and began to work on your necklace but struggled with the finicky clasp, your thumb slipping just as you were about to get it. You let out a quick groan of frustration, shutting your eyes as you tried not to lose your temper over a necklace.

“Do you need help with that?”

You were getting better at controlling your reactions, but your eyes snapped over to the top of your mirror as he stood there, shutting the door behind him. Your hands fell to your lap as you silently seethed.

Ella was never going to hear the end of it.

You said nothing and he quietly walked over to where you sat with your back to him, opting to look at him through your mirror as his slender fingers slowly came up to your neck.

“I’m getting rid of my maid.” You mutter eyes dropped to your lap as you try to control your breath as his fingertips touch your delicate skin, gingerly getting to work of undoing the clasp. He didn’t say anything and the only sound that filled the room was your slow little puffs of air, trying to get your pulse to stop from doing the strange rhythmic beating it always did when you were around him, as if he somehow became the conductor of your heart.

You heard a small click and the necklace became undone, and he gathered it in his palm as he set it down next to your little trinkets, dropping his hands from your shoulder as his cerulean eyes found yours once again, and you looked away, his deep stare burning through yours.

“Don’t,” his voice came out rough as if he hadn’t made much use of it for a while, “She’s always turned me away when I came asking for you. I weasled my way through her right now, almost blew my cover when Lily was leaving.”

Oh.

“I’m over it.” No, you weren’t, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

You opened up the drawer to the left of you, moving some little cases of jewelry around as you found the letter you had hidden away as you brought it out, setting it on the desk as you stood from your chair, pushing it back in as you faced him, “Take it. I didn’t read it.” Despite how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to stoop that low and read through something he didn’t want you to see.

He glanced over at the letter and then at you, taking the letter with careful movements as he found the letter opener scattered on your desk, ripping through the wax as he opened it up, passing the envelope back to you.

“Read it.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that.

“What?” You couldn’t blink, looking at his outstretched hand that held the very thing that had been bothering you as if it was nothing, “I don’t-”

“Go on,” he urged quietly, his voice caught in the back of his throat, “Read it out loud. Please.”

You looked at him once more to make sure he wasn’t going crazy before you gently took it from his hands, your fingers brushing past each other as you opened it up, taking out the letter as you unfolded it, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“I’m terrible at writing letters, you should know,” you start, squinting as you move closer to your candle so that you can read it better, “And you should know that I’ve written this twenty other times. I have-

“Twenty balled-up pieces of paper next to me,” Satoru finished the sentence, not looking at the letter once as he read it from memory, “If only you could see the mess,” he paused, his hands shaking a bit as he continued, “I apologize for not sending as many letters to you as I should, but aside from my travels which have proven to do nothing other than make me regret leaving, I only have one other thing left to tell you.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I thought that it would do me some good to leave and get some time to think about how bad it would be if I said out loud that I was in love with the girl who’s my sister's best friend, but I’ve simply gone mad over needing to see you again. I’m in Paris, which is coincidentally the city of love but I’ve grown bitter and resentful over the fact that the woman I love is an ocean away from me. I can’t do it anymore. No, scratch that, no, I can’t do this other letter…”

“...It’s too pathetic. You’re worth more than this.” You concluded, reading along because you couldn’t be yourself to look up at him, knowing that you simply would break apart and couldn’t take it as you heard the three words you’ve wanted to hear from the man that you never thought would say them.

You looked at the paper, eyes scanning each word again as you let out a heavy sigh, feeling like you were living in a dream that was wrapping its arms slowly around you and whisking you away.

“That night, I projected. I don’t know why I said what I said, I just know that thinking it over told me everything I needed to know and I acted like a coward and a fool and I hurt you when really, I love you. I love you, I’ve never stopped. I burn for you, and I always will.” He whispered, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he cleared his throat, wiping at his nose as he sniffled.

You’ve never seen him like this, exposed and raw. But you knew that you mirrored his emotions, knew that you were in the same state that he was for he carefully brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping a tear away as he cupped your face in his hands.

“I know that it would be too much to ask for your forgiveness, but please, I don’t know how much longer I can go without at least seeing your face, hearing your voice, your laugh, you’re kind, kind heart.” His hands trailed down your face, down your arms, and your waist, settling on your hips as he ducked his head downward, tears sliding down the curve of his nose as he did something unexpected.

The Viscount Gojo Satoru began to kneel.

You froze, looking down in shock as he bowed his head in shame and apology.

“‘Toru, please, I,” your voice broke and you quickly wiped your tears away, taking his hands that were sprawled out across your waist as you held them, not knowing how to handle this display of vulnerability as you gently made him look up at you, “Just tell me one thing.”

His thumb caressed the back of your hand, giving a soft nod as he whispered; “anything,” and his hand moved up your waist, holding your back as your hands unknowingly went to his hair, moving it away from his face as your fingers twirled and played with his white strands, basking in the sense of having him at his knees for you.

“Why did you wait so long to come back?” Your voice is barely audible as it cracks, a year of missing him and ten years of longing for him coming out as he shakes his head, almost as if he was more remorseful about it than you could ever imagine, and he shifted so that he wasn’t resting on his ankles anymore, digging deep into his pocket as he brought out a little box.

“I went back to Japan. I was trying to find this little ring my father gave my mother back when he started to pine after her,” he opened up the box, a delicately cut blue diamond rind resting on a thin gold band stared back at you, shining in the candlelight, “I wanted to give it to you as a promise…” and he trailed off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he suddenly became a bit embarrassed, pocketing the box again as he looked back up at you.

“What was the promise?” You can barely hear your words over the thumping of your heart.

He swallows, slowly coming to standing back up, never losing his hold on you, clutching onto your thin nightgown as if it was the only thing grounding him to reality.

“That I’d marry you one day.” He whispered back, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want them to escape the vicinity of your room, this shared space between the two of you in which you stripped each other bare to the soul, only the find that they longed to be in each other's place even when they were miles apart.

Just as he did so many nights ago, he leaned closer to you, giving you time and space to push him away, to yell, to scream, but you didn’t, nudging his nose with yours as your lips found each other, this time quick and rough and not wanting to be patient because there was no room for such a thing.

He let out a small groan as you tugged on the hairs at the back of his nape, pushing you further down until your back hit one of your windows, feeling the cool night air from the glass as it traveled through the thin cotton of your slip

It seemed like something in him was finally let go, and you as well, and everything came tumbling down in the best way possible.

It was so messy and rushed and desperate that you felt like you were going to faint, the air from your lungs being stolen by his hungry and greedy lips as he pushed back roughly against you, needing to taste you, feel you, or else he simply wouldn’t make it.

Satoru tapped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso as you pulled away slightly, questioning him as he scoffed at your doubt.

“I spent a year getting bigger and stronger for you,” he murmurs against your lips, “and the first thing you said when you saw me was oh. Come on,” he nipped at your lips, his boyish and charming smile growing when you whimpered, “Test me out.”

You gave in, standing on your toes as you did what he asked, and you let out a little laugh of surprise at how he wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he smirked, going away from the ball as he led you to your bed, basking in the sound of your twinkling laughter as you admired him in all his glory.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you tease and he snorts, fixing your gown as he hovers above you. He was huge, so much bigger than you anticipated in your imagination, but it was so much better than you ever could have thought.

“I’d never lie to you,” he promised, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips that left you breathless as he continued downwards, pressing kisses down your jaw, and your neck, spending time as he sucked at one of your vital points, enjoying the way you sounded like you had run a marathon.

He looks stunning here; his lips look bruised and swollen, pink and wet with spit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body, and if you weren’t crazy about how he looked at you, you would’ve shielded yourself away in embarrassment.

But he didn’t give you any time to think it over, pushing past your loose nightgown as he pressed delicate pecks to your shoulders and upper chest region, looking up at you to make sure it was okay to continue.

You quickly nodded, eager to see what he was going to do.

“Mind if I take this off?” He asks, tugging at the ends of it as you look at him from beneath your lashes, trying to feel indifferent as you shrug, but the way you smile giddily gives away just how badly you want him to.

“I wouldn’t mind.” You help him move it upwards, your arms coming out from the sleeves as the chilly air hits your naked skin, and you suddenly realize just how out in the open you are compared to him.

Out of second nature, you go to cover your chest but he tsks, gently pushing your hands away as he eyes your breasts, looking like he had just come back from staring at the sistine chapel with the way he looks at you.

Your nipples harden from how cold it was, and he slowly dips his head down to one of your tits, kissing the soft and supple skin as he inches closer to your bud, finally latching his mouth onto it as you throw your head back, arching your back into his lips as he sucks like his life depends on it.

“S-shit, ‘Toru, so good,” you mewl, wrapping your hands around his neck as he flattens his tongue against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive area as you whine even louder, not seeming to care if anybody outside your door could hear.

His other hand lathes onto your other one, not wanting to leave her unattended as he pinches your nipple between his two fingers, twisting it just enough to make you shut your eyes at how good the attention feels.

“Let me hear you,” he groans into your skin, looking up at you as you try to cover up your mouth with your hand, “I’ll stop if you cover up that pretty mouth of yours.”

You simply nod, leaving your shaky hand to grip your bed sheets as he switches his mouth and hand with each other, giving you different sensations to wrap your hands around as you feel a deep part of your pulse, needing more of him.

“‘Toru, please,” your voice comes out shaky as he releases your tit with a pop, his hands going down to hold onto your hips as you bring his chin up for another kiss of swapping spit with him, growing to appreciate the lewdness of it all as you lay feather light kisses on his jawline, feeling him shudder beneath you, “Wan’ more.”

At any other time, he would have drawn this out, would have teased and prodded at you to use your words, to tell him where you needed him most, but he couldn’t wait with you, wanting to have a taste of you himself.

So his wolfish grin comes back, his hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just above your mound as he cocks a brow at the way you seem to grow impatient, reaching the place you seemed to have in mind.

“Here?” He asked quietly, his pointer finger moving to find your clit as you let out a quiet gasp, his expert fingers having nothing on your inexperienced ones. Sure you’ve touched yourself deep into the night when you made sure everybody was asleep, but it never felt like this.

You couldn’t speak, so you nodded again, and that seemed to be good enough for Satoru as his finger moved down to your lips, a deep groan coming from within his chest as he felt how wet you were, and prodded his finger at your tight walls, slowly pushing past them as he seemed to be in a trance.

You sucked him in so delightfully, pulsing against his as your slick stained his finger, making it easier for him to fuck you with a little bit more pace, careful not to hurt you, as he brought it back up to circle at your clit, trying to find what places you liked to be teased most.

“O-oh my god,” your eyes rolled back in your head as his long find pushed back against your gummy walls, his other thumb finding your nub as you whined even louder, not used to feeling this good, spreading your legs out even further as you tried to make room for him.

“There you go, s’perfect,” he said against your skin, dipping down as he moved a hand to keep your thighs further apart, “Mind if I have a taste?” And you were in another dimension, just cradling his neck as you pushed him to go further.

He chuckled darkly, nearly going insane as he neared your glistening pussy, eyes growing dark as he moved his fingers away so that his tongue could have its turn, and you swore you almost came right there.

He licked gingerly, savoring you first as he groaned, his thumb never giving up on circling and massaging your clit, but he began to eat you out as his life depended on it, licking and sucking like you were his last meal.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru, fuck!” You screamed, biting your lip harshly as you kept your finger tight around his hair, “Don’t stop, please!”

“F-fuck,” he murmured, coming up for a quick breath as he looked at you from his long white lashes, “Fucking kill me if I ever stop, okay?”

He goes back in with the same amount of fervor, your chest moving up and down as you arch into his mouth, your jaw going slack as you quickly feel that rope in your stomach tightening, embarrassed at coming so early but knowing that there was no way you could stop yourself with the way he fingered you out at the same time he ate you out.

“I’m yours,” he said against your skin, “I’ll always be yours.” It was out of place, but it seemed like he was branding it into your skin so that everybody else knew, knew that he belonged solely to you.

It was too much, and you felt like you were slowly losing your ability to think, talk, or do anything, and the only thing you could feel was him, and you felt it all coming to a crescendo as his mouth latched onto your clit, letting it all go as you came into his mouth.

“‘M c-coming, mmmm fuck!” You couldn’t even believe the sounds you were making as you clenched around his finger, your essence coating his chin and hand as your legs were trembling, glad that he held a stable hand on your waist.

You saw white for a couple of seconds, taking even longer to catch your breath, your tits rising and falling with each heave, and you suddenly felt like you came back down to earth, peeking out from an eye to see Satoru smiling down at you, his face soft and you whined in shock at what just happened, hiding your face into one of your pillows as he laughed lowly, the sound dripping down your ears like warm honey.

“You just came around me, no need to be modest now.” He gently moved your face away from the sanctuary of your pillow so that you could look at him again, and he leaned down, pressing one final kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him as you let out a muffled moan.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he pulled away, sitting on his haunches, letting you drape the blanket around your sweaty chest as you tried to sit up, shaking a bit as you tried to recover from your mind-breaking orgasm.

“Good,” you say groggily, wiping at your eyes as you give him a lazy, languid smile, “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, chuckling as you nod, finding his hands as you play with his long fingers, and he lets you watch as you let them entangle with each other, somehow feeling more connected through this than the previous activity as you slowly pull him back down towards you, wanting nothing more than to curl into his chest.

“Give me a second love,” he wanted the same thing, but he pulled away, “Let me clean you up.”

You didn’t fight it and let him go, watching as he found the pitcher of water on your desk as he found a clean rag and wet it, coming back to your bed until his eyes caught something under the sheets.

He picked it up, reading it as he sat down next to you, running the cold towel across your thighs as you let out a little whimper at the temperature. He pressed an apologetic kiss to your forehead as he turned the paper around in silent questioning.

Your eyes widened, trying to take it away but he held it above your head. If you had more fight in you, you might have wrestled for it, but you gave up, letting him clean you up as he tried not to laugh at how measly it was.

“I doubt Cambell would know how to make you come.” He finally says, throwing the rag away somewhere as you groan, pushing his face slowly away as you try to fight the giddy laugh that was going to bubble its way from your chest.

“Stop! Lily was just trying to help!” You argue and he waves his hands, loosening the buttons of his tunic as he crawls in next to you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“It’s fine love,” he nestles his nose in your hairline, smiling when you hitch a leg over his, “You’re mine now.”

You look up at him, tracing over his features with the light touch of your fingertips as he leans into your warmth.

“Do you promise?”

He gives a single nod, sliding the delicate ring over your finger, and closes his hand around yours.

“Promise.”

3K notes · View notes

elusivedew · 1 month ago

Text

💌 | Cubitum eamus ?

✧ synopsis ⤐ it takes you 2 years from the minute you meet spencer to confess how much you like him, and it all happens on a random wednesday night.

✧ contains ⤐ friends to lovers but they both know what's up, s3 spencer who's been through a handful of shit, brief mention of alcohol consumption on two occasions!!suggestive themes but no straight up smut, spencer reid experiences happiness for once, reader is his only hope in life, reader wants him real bad and he knows. My spencer reid debut yay! Title translates to "will you go to bed with me?" w.c ~ 9.2k

Working at the BAU is not an easy job. In fact, Spencer thinks, working at any unit in the FBI is the closest thing you'll ever get to hell on earth. This feeling of agitation and exhaustion seems to aggravate every time he's working on a particularly draining case. Not only does the content of the cases get into his head often, and sometimes into his dreams, but he's also been directly harmed by the criminals they’re chasing. How can you remain completely objective about something when you become a victim too?

Over the few years he's worked in the BAU, he's received more harm than he ever expected. Drug addiction was not something he had in his five-year plan when he first joined the FBI. It's not something anyone who works in law enforcement expects, really.

Needless to say, he's tired. The kind of fatigue that makes you bedridden for days.

He also happens to be alone on a Tuesday night in the middle of June.

The latest case he worked on took a little over two weeks to wrap up, an unsub that likes to take his time and has such a disorganized MO that it was almost impossible to see the patterns. All the physical and mental work completely knocked everyone off their feet, except for him. His colleagues all went home and passed out of exhaustion, and he’s still up.

Spencer can't sleep. He's too busy thinking.

It's something he does a lot, for his job, for himself, for the duration of his whole life. The gears have been turning in his head since his very first word, the minute ‘mama’ was out of his baby mouth, he’d been tasked with the weight of the whole fucking universe. The price of knowing so much from a young age has cost him a lot. And tonight, it specifically costs him his peace, his right to pass out after a long day of work.

And he'd love, more than anything, to have an off button somewhere inside. But because that hasn't been invented yet, and his nervous system feels like it's on fire, he's still up by the time it's 10 pm. It’s not late, objectively, but he’s been home for more than three hours now. He tried a lot of sleep remedies— herbal tea, audiobooks, aroma therapy, hell, even exercising to tire himself out, but all of them failed. And now he's just left with sore muscles and an even more tired brain.

By the time it's 11 pm, he's lying on his couch, feeling like death. His head is pounding with the feeling of an oncoming migraine, and he knows that he’s in for a particularly long night.

That's when his phone rings, and because he’s so alert and so sensitive to stimuli at the moment, he almost kicks it off the coffee table. But he doesn’t do that, because he’s still a little sane despite everything.

Instead, he reaches over and checks the contact name, and his whole face lights up. He feels absolutely ridiculous for not making this call first, because his nervous system is now very much alive— and not in a way that makes him feel like an overheating microwave, no, this is a good thing. And good things don’t happen to him often. He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and picks up the call.

Suddenly being awake doesn't feel so bad.

“Agent Reid.”

Your voice comes through the phone like a cool breeze of air during the grueling heat of June. He finds himself relaxing a little, releasing tension he didn't know he had in his muscles when he was so distracted just a few minutes before.

“I'm begging you to stop calling me that.”

“Aww, why not? I like feeling like your boss,” you're smiling on the other end, he can hear it, “what's his name again? Aaron?”

He rubs his temple with a smile he can't fight off, “That's agent Hotchner to you.”

You laugh and he feels proud of himself for eliciting such a pleasant sound out of you. He's immediately thinking of other ways to get that sound out again. If Morgan could see him now, he'd never let him hear the end of it.

The good thing about you and Spencer is that no one knows. Not his colleagues, not your friends, not your families. That's the good thing, you get to keep this precious thing between the two of you. The bad thing is that you're not really together. You're not even romantically involved, you've never uttered the four-letter L-word around each other (like or love, both), and you don't even really flirt with each other.

To put it into simple words, you and Spencer are just friends.

But friends who relieve each other's stress nonetheless, and god knows Spencer needs that right now.

“You're back from your recent trip, right?” You ask, audibly crunching on something. It sounds like you're also lying on your couch, he wonders if you were going through something similar when you decided to pick up the phone and call.

“Yeah, thank god.”

“I take it that it wasn't a very good one then? I mean, none of them are good but, I'm guessing some are worse than others.”

Spencer sighs, “You guess correctly.”

“How are you feeling?” Your voice is softer when you ask, concerned, and even though he doesn't like to make you worry, your well-intended question is a very welcome sentiment. He’s almost relieved knowing that there's someone who'll always ask, someone who'll always notice.

“Not very good. Tired.” It's a short answer, but he knows you understand. You've understood him for a very long time now, nearly two years of knowing each other.

“It sounds like you had a very long day.” A very long month. “Why didn't you try to catch some Zs?”

The way you phrase it makes him snort, and he knows you're proud of yourself for that one. “I can't, me and the Zs never had a very good relationship. Trust me, if I could turn my brain off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

You hum, “Do you wanna talk about it? I could give you some very valuable, life-changing insight, maybe you'll be able to go to sleep after.”

He smiles, “I've actually had enough of this case, I'd like to talk about something else.”

“Oh, I can definitely do that. Tell me, what did you have for breakfast?”

Breakfast is a terrible topic, meals in general, because you know that he misses a lot of his meals when he's on the job. You always lecture him for it, berating him for being so skinny at his big age, but it's always underlined by concern. He knows you worry about him, he wouldn't blame you.

“Not much…” He trails off, knowing you'll catch on.

“Oh honey, I know your eating and sleeping habits are fucked, but can't you at least lie to me?”

The way you call him honey should not be making his stomach turn like that.

“I could never lie to you.”

“You literally just did.”

You both laugh and he's so, so glad you called. If he didn't think you were asleep he'd have called you first.

“Okay well, I didn't ask that question to find out something I already know. I asked because remember that café we were constantly visiting before you went on this trip? They finally brought the chocolate chip cookies back.”

The chocolate chip cookies case (the quadruple c) is a very vital issue in your relationship with Spencer. Because for weeks, the both of you have been visiting that place close to your apartment, hoping to get some chocolate chip cookies, only to be met by raisins. It was a very devastating experience for both of you, having to settle for something else on the menu every time. But now it’s okay! The chocolate chip cookies are back.

Spencer is so glad he's done with his silly criminal case so he can focus on the real problems at hand.

“And I was thinking, if you're not too tired tomorrow, should we have breakfast together?”

It's sweet, it's earnest, it's you.

It's such a characteristic gesture, asking him to have breakfast with you after particularly draining cases, checking on him as soon as you can tell he's home, and sounding so sweet and concerned over the phone when you know he's feeling down. It’s the small, thoughtful actions coming from you that have helped him keep it together so far.

And the feelings that thought brings out in him lead him to realize, in those few seconds, that he liked you much more than he planned on. Not that he ever planned to like you in the first place, but he thought it was a small crush that would eventually go away, it’s happened before with the pretty women he befriends, and he didn’t think this time would be different.

But it was, and now he’s totally screwed because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no to you.

“Absolutely, I can't wait to have those chocolate cookies again.”

You're ecstatic over his response, your tone picking up about 3 octaves when you jump to discussing the other plans you have this week. Your favorite artist is releasing an album soon, your favorite game is finally available at the video game store, the finale of that show you've been talking to him about is airing in two days, and it seems like your life is full of positive sequences.

The juxtaposition between what he sees at work and the enthusiasm you bring into his life almost gives him a headache, but it could very well be sleep deprivation. He wonders if all the misfortunes that have happened to him are the evil equivalents of the things you brought into his life.

But if all the bad things that have happened to him and around him got compensated by you, he doesn't find it such a bad tradeoff. Because meeting you on a random Monday night and somehow catching your attention enough for you to leave him your number— even when he was so frazzled by the need for coffee so he could grind out some paperwork before his deadline— it feels like he used up all his luck on that fateful encounter.

And having someone he could always meet up with, outside of work, has been very grounding.

You talk his ears off for the rest of the night, rambling about one thing or the other until his eyelids get heavy again, and he feels tired enough to sleep. You tell him that's been your plan all along and wish him a good night.

Later, when he’s under the covers of his bed, drifting off to sleep, for a few minutes his brain isn't aggravating him with the thoughts that have been haunting him all day. For a few minutes, all he can think about is you.

He is so fucked.

Emily Prentiss is a very smart agent.

She’s been told that ever since she was a little girl, and though it was often complimentary, people sucking up to her mom and whatnot, it was never a complete lie. She grew up thirsty for knowledge, mastering everything she could get her hands on, and even as an adult with a grown up job, she continues to excel at what she does

But then, if she's so smart, why the hell can she not figure out why Spencer Reid is so giddy while doing his paperwork?

It may have to do with the fact that it's Spencer, and that kid has always been a little perplexing to her. He's bright and brilliant, but she could never truly understand how his mind works. But, at the same time, there's such a thing as habits, and Spencer is not typically so smiley while doing paperwork. No one is smiley while doing paperwork in this line of work, because it makes you relive the nightmares. For goodness’s sake, this is the behavioral analysis unit, and Spencer is behaving weirdly.

It seems like she isn’t the only agent at the office who noticed the peculiarity. Agent Morgan stands behind her, his third cup of coffee in his hand, squinting at the young doctor. They observe him like a wild animal in his natural habitat; had they not been so tired from all the work, they would’ve been picking on him by now.

When Emily feels her presence behind him, she turns around, and they exchange a mutual look of understanding. They've never seen Reid act like that in the time that they’ve worked together, and they know one thing that they've never seen him experience during that time either.

They realize it at the same time, and Morgan nearly drops his coffee.

Spencer Reid is in love.

There have been many misfortunes in the 25 years that you've been on this earth, and you're convinced that a lot of them have been aimed at you. You're the only person who has ever suffered that much during your whole life, it's a known fact. It's a fact that you like to remind Spencer of, to make him feel better about his work, and when he laughs at it, you remind him that people called Jesus a liar too.

You've been through a lot of suffering, but the task of getting dressed before Spencer knocks on your door in approximately ten minutes may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

He thinks that just because he has a day off, he could pressure you into a sudden— very much unplanned— date? He thinks that shooting you a text to get dressed so you can go to the record store and then have dinner only twenty minutes before you're supposed to do the aforementioned activities is allowed? He's absolutely right, and you hate him for it.

Not that it's really a date, you know you and Spencer have never crossed that line, but it feels like it. Especially if he's making you feel like a teenage girl high on hormones having her very first crush. Her very first date. The particular action you're thinking about has to be kept to yourself, just so you don't jinx it.

You really shouldn't be thinking about that when you still haven't figured out which outfit to wear. More thinking about clothes, less thinking about boys. Specifically one boy.

It takes all your willpower and energy to finish getting ready in those ten minutes. You settle for your most comfortable pair of jeans and a white button-down with a vest over it, and for good measure, you throw your coat on— the long beige-brown trench coat that makes you feel like you're Sherlock Holmes about to solve a crime. You realize that it's very fitting for an outing with a profiler, he's kind of like Sherlock Holmes if you think about it.

It's fall now, and it's much more chilly. You hope your precious profiler brought his own coat because, as much as you care for him, you won't be lending him yours.

When he rings your doorbell, you're finishing up and tossing the rest of the necessities into your bag. You make him wait for a minute, to avoid seeming eager, and then make your way to the door.

The minute you lay your eyes on him, you feel sick to your stomach.

Spencer Reid is beautiful, this is a fact that you've known ever since you met. He pulls off the dorky yet hot look so well, with that stupid smile of his when he talks like a smartass. And you're reminded of this every time you see him, the fact that he's so adorable that it physically hurts to keep your hands off him all the time. Tonight is no different, he's dressed in a dark button-down with a brown vest over it, covered by a beige coat that contrasts the dark colors beautifully. It takes you a couple seconds to realize you're wearing similar outfits, almost like a matching couple.

“Copycat.” You accuse, fighting off a smile with warm cheeks. He grins in retaliation, “Hello to you too.”

God, he’s beautiful. In the dim light of your apartment's entrance, you catch the gleam of his eyes. They're warm, earthy, and familiar, you don't think you'd ever stop staring at his eyes if you had the chance to do it without looking crazy. His eyelashes are unfairly long, and his light brown hair forms waves around his face like a frame around an artwork. He always tucks a few stray strands behind his ear, and you always mess it up for him– which is something you do for two reasons, you like annoying him, and you desperately want to touch his hair. It’s just simply unfair for him to be born that beautiful.

He seems to notice you staring because his cheeks are a little pink, and he has a little bashful smile on his face. “Ready to go?” He scans your form like the little detective he is, “Looks like you could get ready in 20 minutes after all.”

Now you remember why you were so annoyed at him, good looks be damned.

“Oh shut up, never do that again.”

“Or what? You'll cuss me over text messages again? How will I ever live with that.”

His shy smile is replaced with a smug grin, and you hate to admit it, but it's one of your favorite looks on him. Because Spencer isn't always able to genuinely smile like that, he's usually stressed about one thing or the other; and knowing him, he's always reliving some terrible event that happened in the past two years, and sometimes even further back in time. So while his amusement comes at your expense, you'd rather see him smiling like this all the time.

“God, you're so mean to me.”

Even though you mean to sound stern, you can't hide your smile.

You pick up your keys from the hanger by the door and toss them into your handbag, he follows your movements with his eyes, “that's not true. I'm always so nice to you, sometimes a little too nice.”

You lock your door behind you and give him a fake offended look, “You could never be too nice to me. Let's go, agent Reid. We've got a long night ahead of us.”

Then you're strutting ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you like a helpless little intern. Even though he rolls his eyes and laughs in disbelief, he ends up following you anyway.

‘Albert’s records’ has been your favorite record store since you moved into your apartment in Quantico— and not only because you’ve met Albert, the sweetest little old man to ever exist, but also because Spencer always looks mystified inside the store. It’s like something about vintage things just makes him tick.

You're checking out vinyls that are selling for discounted prices, old pieces of famous artists and commonly known albums, while he's looking at the posters on the walls, admiring the artistic work of the rustic-looking store. He’s always trailing behind you, and you don't mind because it makes you feel safe and cared for. You didn't know being trailed by an FBI agent could feel so comforting.

Your eyes catch on a certain record, and you turn around, “Hey, Spencer.”

He stops eyeing the posters on the wall and turns to you, hair falling over his shoulders adorably.

“What do you think of this?”

You're holding a classic black Billy Joel vinyl in your hand, careful not to hold it too tightly. It's his 1977 release of The Stranger, an album you're not too familiar with. You've only listened to Vienna and a few other songs. Spencer eyes the cover carefully like it triggers a memory deep inside his brain. You're expecting him to go on a tangent about Billy Joel and 70s music, but you're instead met by a very sentimental response.

“My mom loved that one.”

He's quiet, using that careful but lost tone of voice, and you worry that you accidentally triggered something unpleasant. You knew Spencer had a complicated relationship with his parents, namely his mother. On the rare occasion where he had a few too many drinks, he spilled a lot more than he intended to. Drunk Spencer was always so painfully honest and you admired how easily his filter would come off a few drinks in, but you never wanted him to feel embarrassed by it. On those particularly emotional nights— after he calls you to pick him up because he's too drunk to drive— you would listen to him ramble the whole drive to your apartment, force him to stay over so you can take care of his pounding headache in the morning, and hold him until he passes out on your couch like a partying college student.

Something he’s never been before.

Those incidents have led you to know more about Spencer than he ever thought he could share, and one of those sensitive topics just happens to be his mom. It's not an uncomfortable topic, you've talked about it before when he's not too drunk to realize what's going on. Even though it was hard for him at first, talking about it became easier the more he shared, you understood more and more things without him telling you.

And because you’ve talked about it, you're not scared of his response when you ask with a lighthearted smile, “is that a bad thing?”

That seems to bring him back to earth, and he gives you a reassuring smile, “No, not at all, just brought me back to some memories I'd honestly forgotten about.”

You hold the record to your chest, almost certain that you're going to buy it now, “Well would you like to make some new memories in relation to this record?”

Would you like to come to my apartment and listen to it with me?

“Yeah, I'd love to.” He smiles in a way that makes you feel a little lightheaded, knowing he's comfortable sharing this much of himself with you. It's so intimate, knowing that in this public store, you're still sharing private moments that no one else knows about.

You’re about to go back to checking out vinyls, trying to conceal the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest, when a high-pitched voice intrudes on the moment you were having with Spencer.

“Oh my god.”

You both turn to look at the source of the voice and when you look to Spencer to see what this is about, he looks like he recognizes the source. He looks terrified. Your gaze falls on two blonde girls, one gaping at the sight of you, and the other being the source of the dramatic reaction that broke through the silence a few minutes ago.

Her blonde hair is styled in waves and she's wearing such a colorful, creative ensemble that you're mesmerized by the intricate details of her outfit. The hair clips, the makeup, the platforms that she's wearing, you wanted to talk to this girl so bad.

And it seems like you're in luck today, because she's immediately rushing to your side with wide mesmerized eyes.

“Wonderboy, you've been hiding her from us for how long exactly?”

You're guessing “wonderboy” is Spencer since she seems to be his friend and your chest feels warm knowing his friends nickname him such cute things. Spencer deserves to be known for all his good traits after all, and he sure as hell is your boy of wonder.

“Garcia, please, I'm begging you to act normal about this right now.” He mutters, trying his best to keep this conversation quiet.

She shakes her head, “This is the most normal I can act about you hiding a girl from us.” Then she turns to you again, extending her arm for you to shake. You eagerly extend yours back. “Penelope Garcia, tech analyst at the FBI, and genius boy's co-worker. Oh and, your source for any dirt you want on genius Reid over here.”

That explains how someone like her is in Spencer's social circle, but it doesn't explain how someone so bubbly could work at such a gloomy unit. Working for the government when she should be at the club? It's a crime to you.

“They're keeping a gem like you in a dark, creepy room to dig up information for them?”

You honestly didn't know you could commit such flattery and Spencer is looking at you in disbelief, but she giggles at your poorly concealed flirting and you feel proud of yourself.

“Oh, wonder boy, how did you ever snag a wonderful girl like her.”

Spencer is blushing so hard at this point you could probably fry an egg on his face. You're introducing yourself to Penelope, filling her in on your occupation, when the other blonde introduces herself as Jennifer Jareau, JJ for short, and she's even more excited to meet you.

She's also heavily pregnant, and you hope that she's currently on maternity leave.

“We were looking for more records that this little guy here could listen to, it's incredibly engaging to include him in our vinyl pick-out process.” JJ rubs her stomach as she explains and you're so fascinated by the idea of childbearing and birth for a few seconds that you almost forget that it's terrifying.

“What about you guys?” Penelope jumps in, eager to put Spencer on the spot again.

“Oh we, uh,” Spencer's eyes shift between you and the two girls, like he's surrounded and begging you for help, “we're just checking out the vinyls on sale.”

“Yeah, I was honestly waiting for these discounts because I'm not selling a kidney for some records, you know?” You step in, hoping to take some heat off Spencer, because the poor boy looks like he’s about to combust.

You're also well aware that the two girls in front of you think you and Spencer are dating, but they haven't said it out loud and Spencer hasn't attempted to correct their assumptions, so why would you be the one to ruin their fun? You'll let them think you're on a date.

“Oh that's so true,” Penelope nods in understanding, “it's like I just want to listen to music, you know?”

You nod in understanding, you do know.

And you also know that you're absolutely going to adore Penelope Garcia and JJ and everyone that you meet who’s involved in Spencer's life. Even though this meetup is so completely unplanned and coincidental, it makes you excited knowing you can prod Spencer about more details now, talking about work in a way that doesn't concern the cases. You’d kill for some office gossip that doesn’t involve yourself.

“Oh, Morgan is going to lose it when he hears about this,” JJ says, almost talking to herself.

Penelope jumps to add more wood to the forest fire, “Oh my God, remember what he said to Emily? He was right.” That catches Spencer's attention, “what did he say to Emily?”

“He said that you're all giggly at work because you're in love.” Penelope answers without missing a beat, and she says it so casually, as if she didn't basically strip Spencer naked right in front of you.

You’re subtly stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, suppressing a smile at the way he blushes deeply and looks at the ground as if he wants it to swallow him whole right now. Something tells you you're absolutely going to love Penelope and he's going to pay the price for that relationship.

“Spencer is giggling at work?” You ask, like she just told you he joined a cult.

Penelope nods eagerly, “Oh yeah, I've never seen someone look so cheerful while doing paperwork, every time I'm out of my office for a coffee refill he's just there giggling to himself like he's hearing voices. Except the voices turned out to just be a pretty girl, which I have to say,” she puts her hand over her heart dramatically, “I’m so glad it did.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, the shame overwhelming him, “I'm begging you to stop talking.”

Penelope and JJ are giggling, enjoying torturing him like this for your pleasure, and you’re close to joining them, but you choose to stay loyal to Spencer— if only to make sure he doesn’t get a migraine from all this embarrassment. But you're also just giddy, knowing Spencer cannot conceal his infatuation with you to save his life. Despite all the hints here and there that he definitely likes you, and all the discreet touching and staring at your lips when you talk —something you know he can't tell you noticed— the way he doesn't deny any of what's being said tells you that you're, at the very least, a person of interest.

A person of Spencer's interest. Your smile is getting harder and harder to hide.

“Okay, okay, lovebirds, we'll leave you alone now. But trust me, you haven't heard the end of this, once Derek finds out, oh Spencer Reid, you might never want to step foot in that building ever again.” You nod eagerly, excited to hear more about how they’ll taunt him later on. They give you their rushed goodbyes as Penelope guides JJ outside the store, you can hear her quietly complain about leaving empty-handed when she came all the way, but your mind is someplace else, neurons buzzing with ideas of how to torment Spencer now that you’re alone again.

You turn to look at him, no longer holding back your smile, “so…”

He immediately puts a finger to your lips, “Don't start.”

You reach for his hand to move it away, giggling like a schoolgirl, “you're fawning over me at work? Oh my God, Spence, I didn't know you were that far gone, baby.” You hold onto his hand, as a way to restrain him, but also because you just want to hold his hand.

“I was not fawning, they made it all sound so much worse than it actually was.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he continues, looking more flustered. “I was smiling, can I not smile to myself anymore?”

You absentmindedly lace your fingers with his, bringing your joint hands to your chest like something precious, “You're smiling like a lovesick fool about me at work, Spencer, you're so fucked.”

Your amusement is so palpable, and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but there’s also something else there.

Something you haven’t fully experienced before, not its rawness and neediness. Something that you can tell will grow in your chest until it fully conquers your whole body and claims your mind. You don't know what you'll call it yet, but it's something a lot like love.

“Alright alright, I get it. It's National Embarrassing Spencer day, let's buy this record and get out of here. We have a dinner to get to.”

The weight of his hand in yours almost made you forget you were still holding the record, handling it so carelessly just to bring him closer. You realize you're drunk on affection, and eager to have more of his attention for the rest of the night. When he doesn't make a move to remove his hand from your hold, only dragging you behind him to check out, you feel like there will be a lot of new developments tonight.

The rest of the night goes as well as you would imagine.

Despite your incessant teasing, you have plenty of conversations that aren't centered around embarrassing Spencer and enjoying it. You sip wine together while he tells you about the letters he's been sending his mom; apparently, he's started telling her about you. While you're surprised he's only just doing it now, he confesses that he wanted to wait until he was sure you'd stay before he made such a decision. Unfortunately, with his line of work, he's right to be worried about things like that, but you stayed anyway, and now his mom knows about you.

And you have her favorite record in a plastic bag that you carry on the way home.

When his car pulls up to your building, you're hesitant to get out. You don't feel like the night is over yet. It was lovely and unforgettable, meeting his friends, learning about his mom, and having a very nice dinner together, but you feel like there's still one more topic that needs to be discussed.

When you don't make a move to get out of the car yet, he calls out your name in concern. You turn to look at him and your gaze is so intense he's almost intimidated.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in trying to figure out what's missing from such a wonderful night.

“Well, we're here. This is your apartment, you know?” You can tell that's not the sentence he aimed for, but you're aware that Spencer stumbles over his words when he's nervous. You don't fault him for it.

You give him a genuine smile, “Yeah, I know.”

Then you're moving to unlock the car door, the newly bought record in your hand, and you get one leg out of the car before you realize exactly what this night is missing.

“Spencer?” You turn to him, he's already looking at you.

“Yes?”

Slowly, carefully, you ask, “would you like to come upstairs?”

Your apartment is somewhere that he's only seen while extremely drunk, hammered out of his mind. You realize that this is the first time you invite him up when he's actually well enough to walk on his own, and you also realize that it means something to you. You hope it also means something to him.

“Uh, yeah, sure? If you want me to walk you to your door, I'll definitely do that.” He's picking at the leather covering the wheel, cheeks slightly flushed like they’d been earlier. Multiple times during the night, you note how he’s always glowing red around you like a pulsating organ. Is it the slight chill of the weather or the heat behind your eyes? You hope it’s the latter.

“I think you know what you want.”

You weren't sure if he knew, but knowing Spencer, a line like that will trigger him into thinking about it so hard that he'll actually figure it out. You watch the gears turn in his head but he still looks confused, you hope that by the time you get to your door, he'll realize what you're talking about.

“I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out.” You give him one last smile before you exit the car.

True to his word, Spencer walks you up to your door after parking his car somewhere close. When you reach the apartment, as you dig for your keys in your purse, he stands next to you, looking a little lost because he clearly didn’t expect this. He fiddles with the ends of his vest while observing you.

You unlock your door and get inside, leaving it open so he can follow you. You drop your purse on your dining table and lay the record down next to it, watching from the corner of your eye as he steps into your apartment cautiously, like he's stepping over booby traps.

The door locks and you can't escape the conversation any longer. You also can't bear seeing him so lost, because god blessed him with eyes that make him look like a sad baby deer all the time. And every time he uses them on you, you immediately cave, because letting him suffer feels like letting a baby animal die.

“Spence.” You call, sultry and slow.

If you catch the way he slightly jumps at your voice, you don’t react.

“Yes?” He’s quiet, worried.

You lean back against your table, a relaxed smile on your face, “you know why I brought you here, right?”

He swallows, tucking his hair behind his ear. “A woman inviting her date up to her apartment could lead to a variety of things, but most commonly it leads to either sexual intercourse or murder.” His cheeks heat up at the words ‘sexual intercourse’ and you want to eat him alive. “And I'm kind of hoping you didn't invite me up here to kill me.”

You raise an eyebrow, the desire to tease him so strong and unforgiving, “So you hope I'll have sex with you then?”

That really gets him. His whole face goes red— blood rushing down his neck and up to his ears. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't. Instead, he just opens and closes it a couple of times, unable to articulate anything. If you were in a different situation, you'd have called him a fish, but you also realize something very critical: he doesn’t deny your previous statement.

“Spencer,” you call his whole name this time, voice low and heavy with something that alarms him further. “Can you come here, please?”

He hesitantly leaves his spot, taking slow, careful steps to your side. He stands at a considerable distance, making sure he gives you your personal space. If he’d done this at any other time, you’d have been fawning over how considerate he is, but right now you want him as close as possible, personal space be damned.

Feeling particularly brash, you reach out and pull him closer by a fistful of his shirt. He’s startled, but he lets you move him closer as if he were a rag doll, now you're barely a few inches away from him. Your hand moves to his neck, feeling the warmth that spread there a few minutes ago, the warmth that you caused. If it feels like it's getting warmer under your touch, you don't comment on it.

It's the first time you've touched him this much, this intimately, and it feels like you've been missing out for the past two years.

He watches you carefully, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what you're aiming for. This is probably how he acts at work, you think, staring at something until he’s able to break it open and decipher its message, will he decipher your message too?

You look up at him through long lashes, peering into his eyes, hoping to communicate something with your eyes before you can put it into words. You feel a certain need in your stomach, tying knots and constricting your airways— it's what you guess people would call butterflies. Right now, you'd call it absolutely torture.

“Spencer.”

It's the third time you've called his name so far, and this time your noses are touching and you practically breathe his name onto his lips. This encourages him to put an arm around your waist and raise the other to cup your face affectionately. You lean into his touch, welcoming the reciprocation.

“I'm here,” his voice is low, more certain now, almost like he figured you out, “you can tell me.”

You nearly melt in his hands now that he's using that self-assured voice. You love it when he's shy, but god do you adore it when he talks like he knows exactly what to do with you. The things you'd let him do to you would probably get you placed on a watch list, but you don't mind as long as he's the one watching.

“You know what I want to say, don't you?”

He blinks, the gold flakes in his eyes so striking when you're this close, “maybe I do, but I'd like to hear you say it.”

He's in no place to be making such demands. He should be melting in your hands, not the other way around. You shouldn't be getting this weak at the knees just because he's using that stupid husky tone, sounding like he knows all your secrets. But, fuck, he absolutely knows all your secrets. He could probably read you like an open book— which you actually wouldn't mind at all because you've seen the way his hands stroke the pages when he's reading, and you'd love for those fingers to be all over you like they're all over those stupid books.

Your eyes glaze over with desire and you're getting impatient, while he watches you like he's studying your next move. Goddamn profilers and their dirty work. He should be getting dirty with you.

You mutter a quiet fuck and step back to separate your bodies; even though there's no place to go because the table is right there, you're at least not directly face to face anymore. His warm breath on your lips was driving you insane, and you brought him up here to talk, you needed to have this conversation. For your sanity.

He gives you space, because he's always been so caring and so perceptive about what you need, and the gesture makes you want to bounce on him. You have to remind yourself that if you keep thinking with your lower regions, this will be a counterproductive night.

You realize you can't do this while standing up, so you hoist yourself up on the table, and wiggle around till you get comfortable. Your trench coat isn't bending to your will and it takes you some more shuffling to beat it down. You really should've taken it off when you stepped in through the door.

The sound of Spencer's chuckle makes you realize that he's still here and he's very much observing your embarrassing fight with a trench coat. Your cheeks feel warm, but this is not the most shameful thing you've done tonight, and you're probably aiming to beat that record anyway.

“Don't laugh at me,” you mutter, embarrassed but smiling.

“Okay,” he laughs, “I won't.”

“God, you're such a liar. Is everybody at the FBI full of lies?”

He shrugs, “Depends on who you ask.”

You laugh and you're so in awe at how all the stress leaves your body so easily when he's talking to you, it makes you wonder why the hell you can't just say it. One sentence, something he already knows, something anyone would probably know by observing you for five minutes, it should be easy. But as obvious as it is, you're also well aware that once you say it, it becomes real. And you can't escape It. You can't pretend like it's something casual between you if you get your heart broken, or if he feels like you're moving too fast. The minute those words are out of your mouth, you'll have to confront the reality of your situation.

And you're scared.

You're scared that once you say those words and it becomes a real living thing, you could actually lose Spencer. You could get into an argument later and it ruins everything between you, or he could fall out of love, or you could fall out of love. There are so many bad endings to a relationship and the possibilities make you hesitate.

Spencer must've noticed that you're taking a while to speak, that you're too busy stressing out about it, because he comes close again (leaving enough space for the holy spirit this time) to gently hold your hand. It works like he intends it to. The skin-to-skin contact is grounding and you relax a little, wishing you could just melt into him and never have to go through any uncomfortable conversations.

But when you look up at him, and you're met with the familiar trustworthy eyes of the guy who has been your god-given solace for months now, you wonder how the hell you could ever rethink taking a chance on him.

Even if the risk is terrifying and you're scared of ruining things, you know Spencer would be worth the try. Plus, fantasizing about a reality where it works out and you get married in a few years is actually much more fun than thinking about impending doom.

You don't want the world to end before you tell Spencer the raw truth of your feelings, and not through subtle gestures or sneaky glances, you want him to hear the whole thing.

You squeeze his hand for one final reassurance. He smiles and squeezes your hand back.

“Spencer, I've got something very important to tell you.”

Slow and stead.

“I'm listening.”

You lick your lips.

“Okay well, remember how I told you a few months ago that there were currently no guys who were interested in me?”

He nods.

“Well, I lied.”

He raises his eyebrows, amused at the route you're taking, “oh yeah?”

You nod, swallowing heavily, “Yeah, yes. There was this… guy at my job, he doesn't work there anymore because he got transferred because of ‘new chances’ or whatever, but he was working with me this time last year, you know? Anyways, he'd get really close to me whenever we were handling the same task, not in a sexual harassment way but in an ‘I have a crush on you’ way. And I realized that he was interested in me because he kept dropping hints and I'm, surprisingly, not that oblivious. I can tell when a guy likes me. He actually asked me out once to this new donut place near the office, but I declined because he has really bad table manners to be honest and, god I'm glad he's not working with us anymore because he'd hog all the coffee and we could barely find anything to drink by the end of the day— but that's not the only reason I rejected him, I actually rejected him because… because I couldn't imagine going out with anyone else who wasn't you, and I guess what I'm trying to say is- that's when I realized that I like you, Spencer. And I've liked you for almost a year now.”

You're out of breath by the time it's all out, but incredibly relieved. You look up at Spencer and he has this amused twinkle in his eyes and a very dumb smug smirk on his face. Once you're fully and completely done with your little speech, the first thing he does is laugh.

You're so offended you immediately take your hand away from his and slap his chest, “Don't fucking laugh, I just confessed my feelings for you.” You hit him some more, but he won't stop laughing, “Spencer, this is so fucking rude, oh my god, just reject me like a lady if you're going to mock me like this.”

He catches your hand before you land another weak punch on his arm, and you have very little time to react before he reaches forward, cupping your face with his other hand and joining your lips for a long-awaited kiss.

You've fantasized about the way he kisses for a very long time. After you’d heard about his little make-out session with that actress in the pool, it took everything in your body to resist asking him to take you next. You've thought about kissing him nearly every night when you were falling asleep, he was even haunting some of your dreams like a fiend, kissing you like his life depended on it, only for you to wake up to the cruel, harsh reality of never having kissed Spencer Reid.

But that reality is different now.

He uses both his hands to cup your face and angles your head just right to get as much contact as possible. He tastes like the wine you've been drinking all night and smells like cedar wood and sage. God, even when kissing you he has to smell like a perfect little herbal garden? You'd get mad at him if his lips moving against yours weren't melting away every ounce of sophistication you have in your body.

You use the chance to be greedy and reach your hand into his hair, making sure to mess it up so that there’s proof that you were here, in his arms, kissing him.

He's sweet with his kiss, despite knowing you both waited for it for so long, he doesn't push you to go further even though you'd love for him to. You'd let him take you on this table right now.

But the absolute worst thing about Spencer is that he's so respectful that he pulls away after a few seconds to watch for your reaction. He's flushed with desire and his eyes have gone dark in a way that you've only seen when he was really angry. You can tell that he's restraining himself to not make you uncomfortable. His eyes scan your face eagerly, his hands resting on either side of your face.

“God, you're so… ridiculous.”

The comment is so unexpected that you laugh, and the sexual tension seems to ease into just… sexual existence. “Hey, what's that for? You're going to kiss a girl and then immediately insult her?”

His smile mirrors yours, “my apologies, your highness. I have just never heard such a ridiculous confession in my life before.”

You frown, lips curling into a pout, “not true, that actress in the pool had a ridiculous confession too.” She didn't, but you never fully got over her kissing Spencer before you could.

“Oh yes, I'm sorry, I forget about any other woman when I'm with you.” Then he plants a quick kiss on your lips with a poorly concealed smile, and you can just tell that he's going to be doing that a lot to get away with whatever bullshit he's spewing.

“You’re unbelievable, Spencer Reid.”

Then you’re kissing him again, craving more of what he gave you during the first kiss. The desperation for contact has you pulling him closer by his collar, leaning into the kiss like you were starving before him. When he finally slips his tongue into your mouth, you moan so pathetically it makes his grip around you tighten, body drawing impossibly closer to yours.

You're kissing for such an extended period of time that you're dizzy from the lack of air when he pulls away, and you're greeted by that lovely shade of crimson on his face. You desperately want to find out just how red he can get and in what other places.

You're admiring his face, lost in the haze of the kiss, and chewing absentmindedly on your lips when you suddenly remember something very important. You draw back a little to shoot him a very serious look.

“Hey, you never said you liked me back.”

He laughs in disbelief, “do I have to?”

You nod like a petulant child, seriously alarmed.

He playfully rolls his eyes, “alright, I like you too,” he kisses you, “I like you a lot actually.”

You're satisfied with that answer, melting into his touch again, like a helpless pet. You admire the post-makeout look that adorns his face and makes him more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. For a while, it feels like the universe belongs to the two of you and no one else.

Until you remember how late it is and the fact that Spencer actually works tomorrow, then you're not that happy anymore.

“What's wrong?” He asks, nose rubbing against yours as if you could ever focus on anything when he's that close.

“You have work tomorrow, and it's very late…”

He draws back from you, as if broken out of the trance by your words, “Oh no, you're right.” He's starting to move away when something inside you kicks in and suddenly your legs are flying to lock around his waist to secure him in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, amused and surprised.

“You can't do this.”

You nod your head menacingly, “oh yes I can.” You know he could easily break out of your hold if he really wanted to, but the fact that he's entertaining your antics tells you that he's not very eager to leave either.

“Angel, I have to go to work in the morning. Like an adult with responsibilities, you know?”

If you were in your right mind, you'd be offended at that comment, but he's just kissed you senselessly and then called you ‘angel’ for the very first time. No one could blame you for not being very wise.

“You can still go to work in the morning, you just... don't have to leave right now.”

“You want me to stay? Here?” You nod. “My love, you don't even have a change of clothing that can fit me.”

“Then sleep naked. I won't complain.”

He laughs, “What about a toothbrush? You don't have an extra one for me.”

“I change my toothbrush once every three months and I always buy extra, so I do actually have a completely sealed, never used before brush that you can use. It will be yours from now on.”

He shakes his head in disbelief but you can tell he's starting to budge, your technique is working.

Plus there's the unsaid promise that, if he stays, there will be a lot more kissing going on.

“And you want me to go to work tomorrow in this same outfit?”

“Mhm, we'll hang it and it will be just fine.”

“I don't have my badge with me, I can't go to work without my badge.”

You scoff. “Then wake up early and drive by your place, stop creating irrelevant problems, Spencer.”

He’s in disbelief at your brazenness but seems to cave in anyway. “Fine, yeah, I'll stay.”

You smile, very proud of yourself, “yes you will.”

At this point, you're aware that your leg is still around his waist, and you're holding him in place like you took him hostage, but you honestly don't feel like letting him go just yet. Months of pining for him like a lovesick fool, you think you deserve to relish in the power you exert over him. He seems to notice the hunger for power in your eyes because he's coming closer again, placing his hands on either side of your thighs.

“You have other plans for me tonight, don't you?” He's using that husky tone again and looking at you with glazed-over hazel eyes. Like a predator hunting its prey.

You place your arms around his neck, back where they belong, “and if I do? Will you punish me, officer?”

His warm breath fans over your lips and you're shaking to your core with anticipation, “I don't know, maybe I will.”

Then he puts an end to all your antagonizing conversations that are distracting you from more important matters by bringing you in for another eager kiss. You take all of him in, the stubborn grip he has on your face, the teeth clashing when he shifts your positions, the low moan he releases when you pull on his hair — you take everything he gives you with eagerness and hunger. You could swallow him up whole right now if you could.

When he pulls away to take a breath and you're confronted by his disheveled face once more, you realize that there are a lot of things you're going to do to him tonight. You realize that it’s going to be a good while before either of you goes to sleep.

#this is the longest I've ever written #its so long its slowing my phone down help #anyways i hope it was enjoyable i hope he wasnt ooc and if he was ill do better next time ☝️#and HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER REID BABY BOY!!!#i waited for his birthday to post all of this #my gorgeous gorgeous boy #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader

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peachsukii · 8 months ago

Note

What if reader was a new classmate and months went by before bakugou even noticed them? Maybe noticed them for the first time while training one day or something and he became infatuated with reader (NSFW please! I <3 your writing!)

oooooh this is a great prompt, thank you for sending it in!! and thank you so much, it makes my day when someone compliments my writing! 🔥✨

Cruel Compulsions

『 ♡ 』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ senior year of UA | aged to 18 | infatuated & pining bakugo ꒱ ⇢ as a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. you fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - katsuki bakugo. he doesn't give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an "outsider." at least, that's what he projects and not how he truly feels.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI Smut; masturbation, dirty/lewd thoughts, wet dreams, first-time handjob, first kiss (bakugo) | obsessively infatuated, mutual pining, hidden feelings, avoidant but horny bakugo, mean/aggressive toward reader's attention, awkward confession, sexually-forward and comfortable reader, friends to friends with benefits, fluffy ending ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.4k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

Bakugo's in the school locker room after the day's training sessions, left forearm against the wall of the shower to hold himself upright with his head hung under the water's stream. His mind is swimming in a sea of dirty thoughts as his right hand fists his dick - your body floating in the aforementioned sea.

He couldn't help it, you're gorgeous and beautiful spank bank material without even trying.

───

You surprised everyone when UA announced your transfer so late in the hero course. He immediately had judgements before meeting you. How did you manage to transfer during senior year from another academy? Would you need special privileges to catch up to the classes' progress? You were probably some rich bitch who had daddy's money buy your spot in the program.

That all crumbled the moment you walked through the door of class 3As homeroom, Aizawa introducing you to the class on a random Wednesday in the summer.

"Treat her with respect. She's a top student from her previous academy and can kick just as much ass as the rest of you."

Bakugo's heart stuttered in his chest, hypnotized by the way your bare thighs complimented the uniform skirt you're forced to wear. Your button up didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of your luscious figure, the front buttons ever so slightly strained over your chest to contain your breasts. His face was hot as he ogled you, unknowingly drinking in your features to commit them to memory. The feeling was foreign as he'd never been so attracted, let alone infatuated, with anyone.

It had been months since your transfer and Bakugo couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with you without wanting to explode, no pun intended. His palms would drip with sweat, ready to ignite at the slightest touch if you asked him a question or greeted him in passing. He'd gotten into the habit of averting his gaze, turning his back to you or simply removing himself from your space if you got too close.

"Don't worry about him," Midoriya commented regularly about his best friend's behavior towards you. "He's not much of a people person. He'll warm up to you when he's ready!"

Months of endless wet dreams, steamy thoughts and longing stares. Wherever you went, you clouded his vision and blocked out the rest of the world. He didn't understand why he was so enamored with you. He just...was. He kept telling himself it wasn't an obsession, just a stupid ass crush that will pass with time.

News flash - it didn't.

He - the Katsuki Bakugo - didn't have the courage to ask you out.

───

The training period was at the end of the school day, thankfully, and most of the others preferred to head back to their dorms to shower, leaving Bakugo alone in the locker room. He was free to moan and groan in peace, the steam of the hot water only adding to his shameless delight.

"Nngh, it's...not...fair," he moans to himself, barely above a whisper. His grip tightens around his cock, hand slipping and sliding at a brutal pace, eyes screwed shut to watch the raunchy movie play in his mind. Your lying in his bed, remnants of sweat from sparring across your bare tits and stomach. Your UA track jacket is splayed beneath you, the only other article of clothing being a pair of pink lace panties covering your center.

Why pink? He didn't know, you just seemed like the kind of girl to wear lacy underwear - well, he wished you were the type of girl who wore sexy panties, especially if it was just for him.

Your lips were parted in anticipation, flush creeping up your chest and neck as it settled across your cheeks.

"Katsuki, please...," you begged, fluttering your eyes up at him. It didn't take much for him to crumble, swiping your panties to the side and thrusting deep into your soaked pussy.

Like clockwork, Bakugo explodes, covering his hand in spend before getting to imagine fucking you. He can never make it to touching you in any of his dreams, you're always just out of reach or he finishes, cutting the scenario short. He rinses the evidence down the drain and turns the water temperature ice cold.

───

The next day, Bakugo sluggishly made his way to homeroom, running a few minutes later than usual. He rounded the corner on the third floor when he practically bumps into you, startling himself.

"Oh! Morning Bakugo, how are you?" you ask, a pleasant smile gracing your lips. He stares at them, assuming you'd just applied lip gloss with the way they shine under the hallway lights.

"Fine." Bakugo turns his eyes to the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. There's a pause between the conversation and his first instinct is to shove past you and bolt for homeroom, but he doesn't.

"Can I ask you something?" you say as you grab his forearm to take him away from the stairwell. He recoils at your touch, ripping his arm from your grasp.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...forget it."

You're turning to head down the hallway when his anxiety quiets for a split second, allowing him to speak to you for the first time in months.

"No, wait...'m sorry. What is it?"

Bakugo's eyes haven't left the tiles on the floor, but something is telling him what you wanted to ask was important. You don't turn to face him when your shoulders droop.

"You're always running from or actively avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" There's a sadness in your voice that makes his heart drop into his stomach. He was an asshole for not thinking how his actions would affect you, too focused on running away like a fucking coward instead of treating you like a person.

"No. You didn't do anythin' wrong," he mumbles, tapping his foot restlessly.

"Then why the hell can you not even stand to be around me?! You're the only person in the whole class who acts like I have the plague."

'Shit, shit, fuck! What do I even say?' Bakugo thinks to himself, thoughts racing to find some kind of excuse. The words bubble up in his throat faster than he can stop them from spilling out.

"It's 'cause I like you!"

Uh oh.

You whip your whole body around to face him, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. "...What?"

His mind is screaming 'run!,' but his body won't move.

Shaking your head, you start to laugh, relishing in the ridiculousness of the situation. He liked you, but had a case of the "eww cooties!" bullshit? Oh, if only you knew.

"I'm not gonna talk about this here, I'll come by your dorm after classes today. Okay?"

Bakugo finally meets your gaze, gritting his teeth to prevent any other unwanted confessions. "...'kay."

You give him a wave and head off toward the 3A homeroom down the hall, leaving him with his thoughts.

───

After class, you keep your promise and head to the fourth floor of the dormitories to Bakugo's room. One tap of your knuckles and the door swings open.

"Hey, still free to talk?" You ask, giving him a second chance to shoo you away.

"Yeah, come in." It was taking everything in him not to dart into the hallway and run until he couldn't anymore. He shuts the door behind you quietly. The latch barely clicks when he feels your hand on his bicep, your grip catching him off guard and causing him to stumble into the wall. Your body is suddenly in his personal bubble, chest pressed against his when your lips crash on to his.

'Is this really fucking happening?'

A surprised groan escapes Bakugo between the kiss, his hands flexing at his sides to keep himself together. He can feel the excess sweat begin to stain his palms.

You pull back with a smack of your lips. "Better?"

His mind was completely blank while simultaneously running at mach speed. How do you look so...stunning, all the time? He could feel the stickiness of your lip gloss on his lips - it tasted better than he imagined it would, a faint cherry flavor dancing on his tongue.

"Earth to Bakugooo!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face.

Bakugo violently shivers, his nerves catching up with the emotions flowing through his whole body.

'Don't be a fucking coward, Katsuki. Just do it!' He screams internally, urging himself to make a goddamn move.

"Oh shit, was that your first kiss?!" you yell, not able to fathom that he had never been kissed. "I'm sorry, I assumed -"

He grabs the back of your head, diving in to capture your lips once more. Time slows to a crawl as Bakugo maps out every inch of your mouth, savoring every second of the moment. Your lips are much softer and plush than he dreamed they would be, and if you weren't holding on to him, he was convinced he'd float away into the stratosphere. You can feel the sweat on his palms drip against the nape of your neck, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s warm, a honey-like consistency seeping into the fabric of your uniform.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own.

"I would have assumed someone as hot as yourself would have a body count by now," you tease, tracing a light circle over his exposed collarbone.

"Shut up," he whispers shakily. "Was never interested in that shit."

"Fair enough, but right now, your body is telling me a different story."

You let your hand trail down his body, brushing against his clothed erection. Bakugo's entire body stiffens, all the muscles in his body turning to stone at the featherlight touch of your fingers.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"No."

The answer is immediate, a growl swallowed by your mouths colliding once again. Your fingers trace the outline of the tent in his slacks a second time before mindlessly fumbling with his belt. His hands are occupied with grabbing your hair and waist to pull you as close as possible, all precaution on his side melting like putty in your hands. The adrenaline rush of it all was fueling the fire churning in his guts, practically high off your affection and you’ve barely touched him.

The belt clasp flops to each side as you maneuver your way through the buttons and zipper expertly.

'How the fuck is this happening right now?'

Your hand swiftly pulls at his slacks, enough to allow room to squeeze through the waistband of his boxers, your delicate fingers wrapping around his dick. It's throbbing, painfully so, and burning hot to the touch. Between sloppy kisses, Bakugo gasps as if it’s his last breath on earth, trembling beneath your palm. You thumb over the tip, using the pre-spend to glide your hand over his shaft. The moan that is coaxed out of him is deep and voracious, hungry for more of your touch. A lightning bolt strikes through your core, his ecstasy fueling your own desire as you continue to clash tongues with him.

“Your moans are so fucking hot, Katsuki,” you pant between kisses. “Way hotter than I ever dreamed they’d be.”

Oh god, you used his name. You’ve never said it before. And the first he’s hearing it is…like this? Bakugo’s rocketing toward orgasm at the thought of potentially hearing it again.

And again. And again.

Sparks are flying in his abdomen, an entire Fourth of July fireworks show erupting as he squirms beneath you. He’s interchangeably moaning and whining into your mouth, shuddering uncontrollably.

“Fuck, ‘m-mmph!”

He attempts to silence himself as he spills out all over your hand and in his boxers, endless ropes of white pouring out of him. You remove your hand from his pants, placing a peck to his cheek and walking into his bathroom.

What. The. Fuck!?

Bakugo’s in the afterglow of his orgasm, awestruck as he slouched against the wall trying to catch his breath. His chest heaved and thighs quivered - the fact that he was still standing was a miracle.

───

The two of you sat in silence on his bed, waiting for the other to start the conversation. He took a deep breath, turning to face you with blushing cheeks.

“I…never, fuck, sorry. I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Bakugo begins to explain, trying to compose himself. You tenderly slip your fingers in his, intertwining them in an awkward hold. It calms his nerves enough to continue.

“I didn’t understand this feelin’ at all. You show up outta nowhere and…knocked me on my ass. I’ve never experienced anythin’ like this and I…didn’t handle it well.”

“It’s alright, water under the bridge. For the record, I always thought you were hot,” you giggle, shooting him a wink. “You just kept running and didn’t let me hit on you.”

Of course Bakugo was his own worst enemy in this situation. He could see that clearly now as opposed to his previous blindness by a fierce case of infatuation. He smirked, finally letting his walls come down - brick by brick.

“I settled for kissing Kaminari one night instead.”

Your comment makes him choke on his own spit, sputtering out, “Y’kissed Dunceface?! When?!”

That gets you cackling, removing your hand from his as you fall back onto his bed. You’re holding your sides while Bakugo’s crossing his arms, nose to the ceiling at your reaction.

“Hah! It was months ago and only once. He cried after.”

Now he’s laughing, breaking his stoic facade. He’s somewhat taken aback by his own laughter, silently acknowledging how easy communicating with you turned out to be. You return to sitting upright and sigh.

“I’m sorry, too, for jumping you like that. We don’t have to talk about it, either.”

Bakugo fidgets with the hem of the comforter on his bed. “I said I didn’t want ya to stop, so don’t apologize.”

You smile, a rosy tint appearing on the apples of your cheeks. “I like you, Katsuki. I’m okay with doing this - no labels, fast or slow - while we get to know each other. No pressure, though. We could never talk again if that’s what you wanted.”

“I obviously like you too, idiot. Just be patient with me. ‘S all I ask of ya.”

“Deal!”

Bakugo leans over and kisses you, soft and slow, a way of him saying thank you. He’s unabashedly on cloud nine, glowing with newfound confidence, all thanks to you.

Did that stop his raunchy and taunting wet dreams in the coming months? Not even a little. He just has a better solution to his growing salacious appetite - you.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — thank you again @bakubae-by for the prompt! 😊 tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia smut #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

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jo-harrington · 10 months ago

Text

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

#Eddie munson x reader #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #Eddie munson #stff updates

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spngi · 4 months ago

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My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2

Part 3

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content

It's already late when I decide to leave the bedroom at last, I clean myself and try to clean up all the remnants of that day, as if hot water and the freshness of lavender were going to prepare me to expel a guest who was not welcome.

Lando was right earlier, Carlos was playing with me and I couldn't let him win, not without fighting first.

I go down the stairs slowly, my bare feet echoing on the floor. I don't need to get ready for this, I don't need my armor of dresses and heels this time. I'm in my own house and that's why I could wander around barefoot in my pijamas set giving orders and being respected. I didn't need to sit on a couch waiting, in a place where no one respected me like the woman in front of me.

"Oh, you're still there" I smile coldly when I get to the last steps of the stairs. "He forgot about you there?"

She stares at me and doesn't know how to answer or if she should answer, I observe her figure trying to understand which of her parts caught Carlos' attention. Straight blond hair or black eyes or the way she just looks like a helpless lady sitting there.

"He had an important meeting," she finally replies, her voice sounds around the room in an annoying way.

"The code for beers and poker" I look at my nails and sigh "boys' moment or something like that, you know how it is"

"Carlos wouldn't lie to me" she defends herself and I can't help but smile when I sit in the big armchair in front of her, the armchair that used to sit with Carlos and read books together.

"I don't think we're talking about the same Carlos... Don't forget, girl, you're talking to his wife, why can't a man who keeps a mistress lie?" My eyes are cold when I stare at her. "You're just playing the role of a fool waiting for him"

Martina still looks at me insecure, she tries not to listen to what I'm saying but I still see the slight doubt in her look.

"Why don't you see it for yourself? The third door on the left going up the stairs" she thinks for a few seconds with my words and then finally raises the search for carlos.

I let myself relax in the armchair, enjoying the moment. Carlos was so predictable, a man of habits and he couldn't leave them. We had many habits, the nights of date on Thursdays, Sunday mornings of laziness and followed by the night with card games, brunch in our favorite restaurant every Thursday. And of course we had our moments alone, and for Carlos the Wednesday nights were intended for gambling and drinks with the guys.

I don't need to wait long to be able to hear the hurried steps and the loud voices getting closer. I can't help but smile, it's restorative to know that I managed to hit Carlos in his own game, and even more restorative to see his mistress running down the stairs avoiding his calls, she passes like a hurricane through the house going towards the exit and when Carlos finally reaches the end of the stairs the big entrance door hits in a loud sound, announcing the girl's exit.

I squeeze my eyes to the noise, Carlos stays there looking at the door as if he thought about what to do, whether he should run after it or stay. He stays, runs his hands through his hair and then turns around, he sees me and seems surprised to have me there.

"Whet did you say to her?" He tries to connect the facts and walks towards me.

I arch my eyebrows at his suggestion. "I could ask you the same thing, since it was from you that she was running, dear"

"Y/n" he calls impatient, trying to gather some confession of mine.

"Do you really think i would waste my time with her, Carlos? I'm not you to do that."

He snorts angry with himself, rubs his face with his hands and remains there, standing in front of me in the living room, his eyes stopped, watching nothing in the room.

"We ordered food for dinner, you could join us if you want," he says, and his invitation is strange.

He doesn't expect me to answer, so he turns around and goes back to the stairs.

My smile increases, the realization of this moment shows me what I needed to know the most at this moment.

Carlos didn't love that woman.

Not when he let her go without any problem, not when at no time did he think about going after her, when he didn't even bother to open the door to see where she was.

Carlos didn't love her, it could not mean anything or it could mean that I could still make him love me again.

It would be much easier when you don't have a competitor.

I get up from the armchair, smooth the long blue robe that goes down to my ankles and go up the stairs behind Carlos.

I smile as I approach and listen to the laughter and loud talk of the men, the house seemed alive in moments like this. I knoll on the door and then enter the room reserved for games, Carlos and the boys sitting at the table playing cards with beers in hand.

They smile when they see me enter the room.

"Mrs Sainz, can you ask your husband to stop stealing in the game, please?" One of them asks and I smile.

"I can guess who is winning then..." I joke and take the opportunity to get closer to the table where they are.

"Stealing," says Charles with a frowned forehead staring at the cards in his hand.

"Don't mind, they're terrible losers." Carlos grumbles concentrated on his game, I stop behind him and observe the cards he has in his hand.

"Good game" I whisper in his ear and walk away to get a beer for me.

I join their poker game, laughing with the comments made and happy to be there. Those people had become part of our family over time, not only because they were part of all Carlos' business but because they followed our history and were there sharing several of these special moments.

The night passes quickly, between several matches and the boys taking each other's foot, it is noticeable to my eyes that Carlos avoids contact with me and only speaks eventually, when he is called in the conversation.

When everyone leaves and there is only the two of us left in the room, I watch him from the other side of the table, the clear distance between the two of us. His invitation today was empty, I was there but he didn't crave my company and I could try to live with it.

"Why do you hate me?" I'm finally asking.

"I don't hate you," he replies, not taking the trouble to take his eyes off the beer bottle in his hand and I can't help but snort his answer.

"You can't even sit next to me carlos" I point to the table between us and get up to get close to him "you don't even look into my eyes when answering me"

He raises his head and looks me in the eyes, trying to prove a point like a child. I close the distance between us, sit on his lap and watch how tense he gets. "You wouldn't be doing this to me if you didn't hate me" I whisper to him, take the beer out of his hands and take a sip.

"Are you talking about the divorce?" He asks and I deny it with my head and lean over to put the bottle on the table, his hands hold my waist involuntarily, trying to prevent me from unbalancing.

"I'm talking about what you did today, what you've been doing in the last few weeks..."

"You know things weren't working out between us anymore, y/n," he murmurs.

"You didn't even make an effort to do that, Carlos." I answer and he sighs, lowers his head tired of that conversation. It was as if every time I talked to him I made him bored.

"Did you ever think about how I felt?" I ask him, I hold his face and look him in the eyes. "You pushed me away and betrayed me, and if that wasn't enough, you brought your mistress to our home."

"Don't bring Martina to this story, our problems are between the two of us"

"Well, I think I can bring it down in history, Carlos. Since she has become one of our problems" I breathe and lean closer to him "how would you feel if I did the same? If I found a man and let him touch me in places that only you could? If I bring him to our house, the house we were going to raise our children, and let him lie on the bed that you and I shared?" With every word I say Carlos' grip seems to get more tense, his jaw gets tense and his eyes shine with anger, one of his hands goes down to my thigh, the strong and warm touch on the fabric of the robe. "And even so I wouldn't be able to do that, because just the idea of letting someone other than you touch me makes me want to vomit. And yet you were able to do that."

I allow myself to take advantage of this unique moment of proximity to observe Carlos, he can't find words and stays there thinking, I used to find these episodes funny where he was just thinking and looking at nothing and with his face full of expression, I observe his brown eyes and how his eyelashes stretch, I let my hand go through his well-made beard.

In a sudden movement he takes my hand off his face and kisses me, it's surprising, his hands pull me closer to his body, and hold me against him, his mouth is demanding against mine. My hands are divided between pulling his hair and going down way through his chest, his hands undo the knot of the robe and I let it slide to the floor, leaving the view of my nightgown and skin exposed to him.

It is surprising to have this reaction from my husband when everything I have had from him in recent times was to be removed, from every time I tried to touch or kiss him and I just ended up being dismissed, and from all the other times I appeared in only one set of lingerie in his office or in the room that he was sleeping I received only a roll of eyes and a request to me to dress coming from him.

I walk away trying to catch my breath and concentrate on kissing the skin of his neck, Carlos' heart shoots under my hand and I can't help but smile at the curve of his neck. His hands reach my ass and I rub my body on his.

Carlos holds my neck and makes me look at him, "never think about letting another man touch you" he declares and kisses me again, gets more and more messy, mouths and teeth, increasingly risky touches and muffled moans, and I know that if I don't stop now I won't have the strength to stop later. And to be able to recover Carlos, I need him desperate for me.

"Carlos" I call him who just murmurs with his mouth on my neck, I pull his chin for him to look at me. "We have only two options here and divorce is not one of them, or you get rid of the girl and have me forever or we will live in this house together without belonging to each other"

"What do you mean by that?" Carlos asks, his voice seems confused and his touch is comforting on my skin, he continues to caress my body, like so many times before we were in this position.

"That or you have me just for you, or you're going to share me with someone" I give you one last kiss on your lips and get up.

I leave my robe there, the short nightgown covering only what is necessary. Carlos still seems in shock when he sees me going out, sitting in his chair, messy hair and fast breathing.

"Good night, my love" I smile at him before leaving for my room.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #cs55 x reader #angst #carlos sainz au #f1 fic #mob!carlos sainz #mafia au #mafia!f1 #máfia!carlos sainz

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strawberrynightmare · 1 year ago

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Mikey, Baji & Inupi getting whacked while they're trying to wake you up

Content warning: These take place during/after a sleepover! Tickling, something awful happens in Mikey's fic

Mikey

~Modern problems require modern solutions 🤠

~Late, late in the night, you were playing all kinds of games. Cards, truth or dare, illuminati, board games, video games, fire boy and water girl, you name it. Mikey was reaching the peak of competitiveness and you were not far behind.

~And you would have been long knocked out had it not been for the sugar rush the two of you were on. Needless to say… the two of you were more than a bit hyperactive.

~It was good after two am that a blood-curling crisis made its way into your blissful playtime.

The two of you looked at each other in horror, as if to make sure you were not imagining things. But this dreadful situation went beyond human imagination. After a few minutes of deadly silence, your lover spoke in a quiet, shaky voice.

“We ran out of snacks.”

~Even though the two of you stocked up so well beforehand, it was all gone now. After some good 15 minutes of crying about it, a rock paper scissors match began. Of course, the loser had to go through the hardships of getting their ass up, dressing up, going to the nearest 24/7 convenience store and buying some more food.

~And he lost.

~As he dragged himself through the room, you could swear it looked like he was going to his own execution. He mumbled under his breath but the two of you were so out of it, you didn’t care and he didn’t even know what he was mumbling in the first place.

~He was back pretty soon but still found you passed out on the floor of his room. Your boyfriend didn’t think much about it when he began to gently kick your side.

“Wake up, y/n I’ve got your favourite cookies.” ~Guy who looked and sounded like a zombie

~He knelt down to unpack the two bags of snacks while continuing to nudge you with his hand. And next thing he knew was a kick to his jaw as you shifted from laying on your back to your side.

~He blinked a few times, instinctively touched his chin, sat there for a while, then stood up to turn off the light and fell asleep next to you.

~Via the two of you trying to figure out how he got a bruise on his jaw after you woke up.

Baji

~Aaand he took that personally 🙄

~It was definitely not a great idea to have a sleepover at his house on a Wednesday, but he got a bit impatient. For three whole days, you listened to him complaining about not sleeping well and insisting that the cure would be you sleeping over.

~”What is it? I’m telling you, my mom likes you anyways. And if I sleep well, my grades will be better too!”

You’ve slept well for so many years, and the good grades were never in sight.”

”That’s foul, y/n!”

~In the end you settled for a study sleepover. Instead of messing around, the plan was to study together for some time and then go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Yeah, the plan was all it was.

~You were able to go through two pages of your textbooks before getting utterly distracted and doing whatever the hell you wanted. You ended up sneaking out even before the clock struck midnight and enjoyed the city basked in the night to your heart’s content. It was heavily past 2am when you came back and it was only because it started raining.

~Soon afterwards you fell asleep cuddling into his chest with his arm around your shoulder.

~And he recklessly followed you into the land of dreams without any awareness of what was going to happen in the morning.

~He was woken up by his mother at the usual hour. Mrs. Baji brought you two breakfast straight into his room and as he was half awake, she urged him to wake you up as well. In a half-awake state, he barely began to complain and tell her to wake you up herself before she cut him off with “I tried”.

~In his defence, he thought that shaking your arms lightly and calling out your name would be enough to wake you up. Jokes on him, you didn’t even budge. He tried everything his mother ever used on him, taking away your blanket, rubbing your back, hell, he even tried to wake you up with a kiss - nothing worked.

~He was absentmindedly poking your cheek while trying to come up with something else. All he could think of was a glass of cold water or calling his friends. It was then that he suddenly got smacked in the face with a pillow. The force of the hit was enough to have him rolling out of the bed. His traitor pillow was dropped right next to him. All you did was roll onto your side. Still asleep.

~If his loud ‘HAA????’ didn’t manage to wake you up, you might as well have been dead. Anyways, prepare because he took that as a declaration of war. How does a sleeping person prepare for anything

~He climbed back, pushed you onto your back and began to mercilessly tickle you in all the weak spots he was aware of. He even took a feather out of his pillow and began tickling your feet and that was the final straw, for you to wake up completely disoriented, fall from the bed and instinctively kick your boyfriend off the bed. Both of you ended up on the floor, but Baji didn’t even notice that. He was too busy patting himself on the back and praising his genius for managing to wake you up.

~All while he existed there in a half-conscious state, trying to comprehend the whole situation.

~And then he dragged you to school. You were late because waking you up almost took him a whole hour.

~Surprisingly, he managed to take the test and actually answer enough questions for you to consider him passing it.

~So now he has an excuse to invite you in more often. Although he did learn to only do this on weekends so that you can sleep for as long as you wish, Sleeping y/n is the one person he’s too afraid to face again.

Inupi

~Bro gave up 💀

~It happened during a sleepover. The two of you were on the couch and watching a movie late in the night. He excused himself for a while when he noticed someone koko calling him. The call lasted longer than expected and when he came back, you were already asleep.

~All he wanted was to gently wake you up by rubbing your cheek so that you could move to his bigger and more comfortable bed. Totally not because he wanted to cuddle you. Not at all.

~But then he got smacked with a pillow you were clutching to your chest so hard, the force made him fall backwards and land on his ass. You were still asleep as he sat there, trying to comprehend what just happened.

~He wasn’t even sure whether you were just pretending to sleep to take the sofa or it was really just you reacting to unwanted stimuli.

~He sighed and simply went back to his room to gather the blankets and cushions. Then, he slipped a cushion under your head, gently fixed it into a more comfortable position and wrapped you up in a blanket. After that, he just made some adjustments for himself and sat next to you, leaning his body on yours.

~This fixed the issue the two of you always had. The issue was called ‘Who takes the bed?!’. While he insisted that you should take it, you insisted that it was his bed and you were fine with the couch. But he was also fine with the couch and he couldn’t just- sleep comfortably in his warm bed and make you sleep out there. Sharing the bed felt so intimate that none of you dared to suggest it although i know some of ya simps would jump at the first gotten chance to share a bed with him

~...So the two of you are now sharing a couch, but he swore that the next time, you’re taking the bed even if he has to drag you in there himself.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #sano manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro #mikey #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji #inui seishu #inui seishu x reader #inupi x reader #inupi #inupi seishu

849 notes · View notes

skzhua · 10 months ago

Text

if i leave, which i must do

MASTERLIST

pairing: han jisung x female!reader

genre: fluff, angst, isekai, portal universe, strangers-to-lovers.

word count: 29,083

warnings: swearing, car accident, mentions of death, mentions of sex, suggestive. (proofread-ish)

summary: a movie night by yourself turned out to be an unexplainable experience as you got stuck in the film you were watching. it was a true nightmare until you found jisung to help you.

a/n: one of my favourites ever! it took me so long to finish it but i can't be any prouder. i really hope you enjoy it!

Being sick was one of the things you hated the most, and there wasn't much you hated. Having a cold meant having to cough every five minutes to clear your throat or blowing your nose all the time to the point it got red from how irritated it was. One perk, however, was that you could use it as an excuse to skip work. Getting to stay at home to do nothing was everything your lazy nature would dream of. Plus, your love for movies and cinema came handy when all you could do was watch films all day.

So when you began to feel your throat getting dryer and your nose building up snot, you couldn't be any happier. The office you worked at had given you very strict deadlines and you'd been working your ass off for weeks to meet their expectations. By taking the next day off, it would give you a very much needed break since all of your documents would be given to someone else to finish them. 22 years old was too young to be doing this much, you thought. But you needed the money so you had to settle for that, only temporarily.

First thing you did when you got home that day was to open all the windows of your apartment, not considering your poor rabbit in her playpen who didn't ask for any cool air. It might not have helped much in making sure you would stay sick the next day but you gave yourself credits for trying nonetheless.

Afterwards, you hurried yourself to get changed into your pyjamas you loved so much and order food since you had no energy to cook. Once your order arrived, it didn't take you long to get settled on the couch to get ready for a movie night on your own. Before doing anything, you still made sure you had everything — meaning your food, water, your blankets, cutlery for your meal, etc. — and then grabbed your remote to turn the television on. As you browsed through Netflix's selection of recommended films for you, you realized how the movies on there became repetitive and you had seen most of them. Still, you continued to scroll in hopes something would be eye-catching enough to you. But none seemed good enough. Annoying, your food was getting colder by the minute.

You were about to move onto another streaming platform until you read a synopsis that grabbed your curiosity. It followed the journey of a struggling artist in his early 20s who can't seem to find the inspiration for his music, all while having to face his personal issues called becoming an adult. This was not the type of movies you would usually go for which made you wonder why it even caught your eye. The duration was an hour and fifty minutes and that was also not what you'd go for on a daily basis. Besides that, heavy subjects as these ones felt a bit much for a Wednesday night. However, you weren't going to work the morning after so fuck it. Happy with your choice, you grabbed your plate and brought it closer to you to dig into it and clicked on the play button.

The opening scene showed a young boy — not much older than seven if you had to guess — playing in a playground with a few friends. Some credits appeared on screen as the mellow score played in the background. As the children continued to laugh loudly, a woman's voice could be heard calling out a "Han Jisung". The boy turned around to see his mother walk up to him as she informed him that it was time to head back home. The boy shook his head violently, insisting on staying longer to play. The woman repeated herself but unlike what she would've liked, her son refused to budge and headed to the swings he was playing close to, holding tightly onto one of the poles. Sighing heavily, she asked him again but he did not move. Poor woman, she was obviously exhausted and wanted to go home to take a nap.

"You and me, girl," you commented in-between bites.

Growing impatient, Jisung's mother approached him and reached her hand out to him. Stubborn, he shouted he wanted to stay, and ran all the way to the other side of the street to get away from her reach. As any mother would do, she ran after him while telling him to slow down as he was much faster than her. He still ignored her demands. Sadly, she was not quick enough to catch up with him and, just as she was crossing the road, a pickup truck collided with her body right before Jisung's eyes. It took him a moment to process everything, he was left speechless. Mouth wide open, he stared at the figure of his mother on the ground in horror. He fell onto his knees, his legs too weak to support his body as he was still in disbelief of what just occurred.

You paused it.

Releasing an exhale you didn't know you were holding back, you stared at the screen in shock. You were barely ten minutes in and you could not believe this had to be how the film began. Setting your plate on the coffee table, you walked to your rabbit's playpen and picked her up, bringing her close to your chest. You jumped right back into your blankets and made sure both you and the animal were comfortable.

"Fifi, I won't be able to finish this if I don't have you with me," you said to your bunny in a child-ish voice.

The screen was still frozen while you debated whether you really wanted to continue it or not. In the end, you gathered all the courage you had and clicked on play, giving Fifi scratches to release your stress.

The next scene was a time skip to Jisung's 23rd birthday. When you thought he was all alone as he was staring longingly at a picture of him and his mother, one of his friends barged in his room as he shouted a "happy birthday". He responded with a smile and set the picture back on his desk before the both of them walked out to their dining room. There were only two other men with him who seemed to be living with him. The place wasn't that big but it was functional which is what mattered really. Jisung's other friend placed a cake in front of him as they sang the birthday song to him, all of them exchanging wide smiles. You learned that he is the youngest since his friends kept on teasing him for being a year closer to their own ages.

"Have we gotten any calls?" he asked after blowing on the candles.

From their reaction, they didn't receive any sort of call that they were expecting. This didn't make Jisung lose his joyful spirit and he went ahead with cutting pieces of cake for the three of them.

"Great, now I'm craving cake," you grumbled to yourself. "Should I get a cake? No, it's too late and the grocery stores must be closed."

The scene switched to an anxious Jisung in his room who kept on rewriting on a piece of paper while tugging on his hair, eyebrows furrowed as to show his focus on the task at hand. He bopped his head up and down and began to hum a melody. Unsatisfied, he shook his head and noted something down on his phone. Multiple shots of him doing the same couple of actions — rewriting, erasing, humming a beat, throwing a paper away, getting distracted by something he saw on his phone —played one after the other. It was like he was stuck in a loop and the more it went, the more he was getting discouraged. Finally determining he wouldn't get any work done that night, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

The following shot was now set outside where the night was slowly settling, sunset on display. As a melodic score played in the background, Jisung walked down a small street as he kept on kicking on a tiny rock he found on the ground. Taking in the fresh air, he suddenly stopped and took notice of his whereabouts after having walked a decent distance. The camera panned out to a playground, the same one where his mother was hit.

You felt movement on your thighs and frowned, only to remember you had brought your bunny out of the comfort of her home. Since the movie didn't seem to be getting into anything as traumatic as the first scene, you stood up to get her back to her playpen. However, with having the screen as your only source of light in the room, you tripped onto the plastic bag that was used to wrap your takeout. You felt yourself fall onwards and let out a yell in panic. Your bunny was quick enough to get away from your grasp and hide underneath your couch. As for you, you kept on falling and closed your eyes shut in waiting of your head hitting something. Only, everything went black.

You didn't know what happened but one thing was for sure. You did not hit your head.

Everything was blurry when you finally opened your eyes after gaining a bit of consciousness. You tried to see better around you but a sudden eerie ringing was suddenly bursting through your ears, making it impossible for you to concentrate on something else. You shut your eyes closed again from how painful the ringing was and put your hands on your ears in attempt to diffuse some of it.

"Miss?" you thought of hearing faintly but nothing was vivid enough for you to be sure. "Miss?" you heard the voice say again, this time a tad bit clearer.

You began to hear again much clearer, allowing you to open your eyes properly. Needless to say you were stunned once your gaze fell upon the man in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face while analyzing your figure, making sure you were not injured in any way.

It couldn't be possible, no.

Looking around for a hint or anything, you realized you were exactly where the character of your movie was standing through your screen only minutes ago. The same character who was now all flesh and bones, standing tall (or short for some people) at 5'7ft in front of your very eyes.

"Miss," he said again. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

You blinked slowly as you stared at him up and down, almost creepily. You hadn't realized he began to feel uncomfortable until he cleared his throat loudly, bringing your eyes back to his own. With one eyebrow raised, he repeated the question. No luck, you kept silent.

Jisung looked around and noticed the sun was about to get down completely, meaning it would be pitch black in this part of the city. Although he thought of you to be odd, he was humane. Never would he let a young woman — might he add as attractive as you were — on her own this late outside.

"Do you live nearby? I can walk you home," he offered.

Again, you didn't seem to find an answer. Well, how could you even describe that you believed to have gone through your television screen which caused you to travel into the movie's universe? Yourself couldn't believe it to be true. Nonetheless, you couldn't deny the man was very much real and that the cold was very much coming through your clothes.

Your clothes. You weren't in your pyjamas anymore, but rather in a business attire. You held a briefcase that you had no idea what it was for, and you felt an unknown phone in your back pocket. You could feel the blisters on your feet caused by the heels you were wearing and although the blazer was most definitely fashionable, you were freezing. You pondered the possibility of having transferred into a character's body unintentionally.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Jisung asked as he caught onto your oblivion.

The only thing you could do right until finding out what happened to you was say nothing and lead your own investigation on how you got here and how you can return to the comfort of your house with your bunny. Fuck, Fifi! Poor her, she must be so afraid without you around to take care of her.

"Hey," Jisung spoke again in a comforting voice. "You'll be okay, I want to help you. Did you forget where you live?"

How sweet of him, you thought. In your own universe it was hard for you to find caring men, you hit the jackpot when stumbling upon him. Still, you had to remind yourself that this person was technically a fictional character, he didn't represent reality. You made a mental note to yourself to check if this movie was directed or written by a woman when you would get back home.

"Do you know your name, at least?"

Oh, right. Maybe the guy deserved some sort of answer at the very least.

"Y/N."

You were taken aback when his face lit up to show his boxy smile. He had a very pretty smile, it was a reassuring smile.

"Miss Y/N, my name is Han Jisung. Now that I know you can speak, can you answer my questions from earlier, please? I would hate for something dangerous to happen to you and I genuinely want to get you home safely."

You chuckled at his words, feeling uneasy from his display of chivalry. "I-I don't remember a lot."

You had seen this in movies: in situations of travelling to an alternate universe, faking having amnesia was the way to go if you wanted to survive through this. People put their guards down usually instead of being wary of you.

Jisung nodded and looked up for a moment to think of what to do next. "I live nearby if you need a temporary shelter for the night. I have two roommates and the place might not be as tidy as what you must be used to, if you remember. I don't know if you are comfortable with it but I'd be happy to help you gain your memories back."

Seriously, why couldn't people be more like this in your world? Trying to ignore to storm of feelings, thoughts and emotions that was happening in your mind, you shyly agreed to stay at his place. For the night only. You should get back in less than 24 hours, no?

Jisung was right and his apartment was no further than a few blocks away from the playground. The building was rather small and a bit torn down but besides that, it seemed to be just fine for him. As long as the necessities were there, it didn't bother him if the quality was not one of a five-star hotel.

It took you three flights of stairs to get to his place which was so painful to climb up with your heels. You still managed through the pain all the way up to when Jisung opened the door wide to let you in first. To say you were startled when you walked in would be an understatement. Two men — you recognized as his roommates — were walking around the flat with no shirt on while they were preparing themselves what seemed to be like chicken sandwiches. The sight was not what you had anticipated, although this whole situation wasn't either, and you let out a scream without thinking first. The two of them shot their heads up and were obviously confused to see a young woman stand there instead of their younger friend.

"Can we help..?" one of them who had blonde hair asked reluctantly.

"Guys!" Jisung exclaimed from behind you before coming to stand next to you. "This is Y/N. Y/N, these two are my roommates. This is Changbin."

Changbin held his hand up, still lost about what was happening in his own home. "Hey?"

"And that's Chan."

Chan was kind enough to grab a hoodie that was laying on a chair nearby and put it on before shaking your hand. Your heart stopped from the contact with his skin and you seriously wondered what was up with the men of this world.

"Y/N is a bit lost, I think she had a some sort of brain injury when I bumped into her. She was holding her head tightly and she was visibly in pain. I asked her a few questions about herself and the only thing she could remember was her name," Jisung explained to the older guy who listened attentively.

"Amnesia?"

"That's my guess. Until we can help her find who she is, I offered her to stay here."

Chan nodded in approval while Changbin shrugged his shoulders. "As long as I can work on my stuff in peace, I don't mind. She's kind of cute too."

"Changbin," Chan sent him a look, making him mutter a quick apology. He then turned to face you which scared you a little. "I bet you're tired. Or hungry, maybe? Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Do you have green tea?"

He clasped his hands together and headed off back to the kitchen. "On it."

"I'll give you a tour of the place," Jisung informed. "It's not big but it's home. Here is the living room which we do not use that much. I'll sleep there tonight, though, so you can have my bed."

You held your hand up in disagreement. "I'll take the couch, it's alright. I'm lucky enough you're letting me stay."

He pfft at you. "Nonsense, take my bed. I insist." When he got a nod from your part, he moved on to continuing showing around. "This is the bathroom. Not that big but it does what it needs to do. Here's Changbin's room and I recommend you don't knock if the door is closed. Just wait until he's done. And here's Chan's room where he never sleeps, just works."

"Not true," you could hear from the kitchen, making Jisung smile, embarrassed.

"Yeah, uh, we can pretty much hear everything throughout the whole flat. It's not that bad from the rooms to the common areas because we tried to soundproof them as much as we could but yeah."

"Soundproofing for your music, or for other types of activities..?" you implied jokingly.

Damn it, the air in this universe was different, you couldn't even be yourself. Well, you did make a lot of bad jokes, sometimes related to sex, back home. Still, you really had no filter there. Noticeably, both of you were quite surprised from your statement and were a blushing mess for a few seconds before he answered.

"Music, but it is useful for these... things."

He cleared his throat and walked away shyly, and you most certainly thought this was adorable. Containing yourself, you followed his lead to the room at the very end of the hallway. Everything you saw from the movie was still at their exact spot, including the picture of him and his mother. While he was telling you about his room and cleaning it up a bit at the same time, you couldn't hear a thing he was saying. Your eyes stuck on the framed image for longer than they should but there was something in his mother's eye. A shine? A glow? Or something more mellow? You couldn't figure it out but it was enchanting, she was beautiful. It was crazy how much Jisung took after her, their features being so similar and yet so different.

"She's pretty," you spoke before thinking, yet again.

Jisung awkwardly walked to his desk and put the picture face down. "It's my mom," he said, clearing his throat and avoiding your look.

"She raised a very kind son," you added and he mouthed a small "thanks" as he kept his eyes on the floor.

You took the opportunity to get a good insight of his personal space. Even if cleaned a bit, it was a mess but not in a disgusting way. It was a comfort kind of messy, the one that screamed "this place was loved and well lived in". His bed had simple dark blue sheets with a single pillow, his desk and dresser were a matching set, and his bookshelf was filled with figurines, one or two books and many music albums. His entire desk was dedicated to his music, even the background displayed a guitar. It felt homey.

"Someone ordered tea?" Chan said as he came in with a mug. He set it on the desk while you thanked him kindly. "Be careful, it's still boiling hot."

Without adding a word, he left the two of you alone in your awkward silence. While you were still looking around, Jisung was biting his lip down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt with one hand while the other was still on the picture. Eventually, he seemed to snap out of his discomfort and went to open one of his drawers. From there, he pulled a t-shirt out along with a pair of sweatpants before holding them out to you.

"I'm pretty small so hopefully it'll fit. You can use the shower as long as you need, the shampoo and soap are in the basket. Use any towel, we washed them this morning," he informed to which you nodded. The silence was slowly coming back but, decisively, Jisung wouldn't let this one through. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

"Thank you, Jisung."

He gave you one last smile before vanishing into the other room, leaving you alone to get changed. That was important, yes, but what you'd been dying to find out was what the fuck happened with you. You didn't waste another second to take the phone in your back pocket and turn it on. Obviously, it had a password unknown to you. What did help was the wallpaper: a picture of yourself hugging a bunny that looked identical to Fifi. At least, you knew you were yourself and not some random woman whose body you had to take over.

If this was your face with your bunny, did it mean it would be the same passcode as the one for your own mobile? You had to try at the very least, this phone was most likely your only chance to understand the situation better. You typed the first five digits and waited a second before typing the last one, tension growing in you. You closed your eyes, pressed it, and slowly opened them back. The sigh of disappointment that left your mouth would be indescribable but it was very discouraging. At least, you knew there was another Fifi waiting for her owner to get home in this universe too.

You quickly got changed, finally taking off these uncomfortable heels, and went to freshen up in the shower. Despite the fact the counter was a huge mess, the shower itself was kept pretty clean, more than you had expected for a boys apartment. You didn't wash for long, already exhausted from the day you'd had. After putting Jisung's clothes on, you walked out the bathroom, went to grab your tea, and joined the man who helped you in the living room.

When he got a good look at you, his eyes grew bigger while his plump cheeks flushed a little. The sight of a woman in his clothes was never something he though of ever happening. And yet, here you were. As beautiful as a model, you were in his clothes.

"Can I join you?"

Fuck, even your voice was pretty. He didn't realize it at first –probably because he only focused on helping you out– but you were drop dead gorgeous. All of the sudden, he could feel his hands getting sweatier and his heartbeat getting faster. What was happening to him?

"Sure," he mustered the energy to answer without stuttering. "How are are you feeling?"

"Calmer, but I'm still worried. I have no idea who I am and the background of my phone is myself with my rabbit who must be wondering where its owner went," you answered and pulled the phone out of your pocket to show it to him.

"Cute," he commented, not knowing if this was directed to you, the rabbit, or both. "Did you try getting in?"

You nodded. "The only password I could think of didn't work and I don't want to risk blocking it."

"I have a friend, Felix, he's studying in computer engineering. I can give him a call tomorrow and he could come to unlock it."

Your face lit up instantly. "That would really help, please."

"I'll do that first thing in the morning."

"Thank you."

He looked away and cleared his throat, your presence was making him so nervous. "It's no problem."

You got up and began to inspect the room, a little bit like you did in Jisung's. The couch wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye but it did the job and was the perfect amount of squishy. Their television was without a doubt second handed from someone else while the furniture that supported it was freshly new. You liked how they managed to organize everything to be functional without feeling cramped in the place, since it was very small.

"Do you always do this?" Jisung asked after watching you himself.

"What do you mean?" you frowned.

His face warmed up, embarrassed. "I meant, because you keep looking around like an investigator or something like that."

"Jisung, I've just lost all of my memory. I'm just trying to process everything and the very least of things would be to make sure I wasn't welcomed into an unsafe place, not like I think you're dangerous, but you know what I mean."

He nodded while pursing his lips in understanding. He proceeded to mentally flicker his forehead, swearing to himself to shush it around you. He really was trying to come off friendly and helpful but his reserved nature would force him to tell you stupid things like this.

"I'm done with my tea," you announced, showing him the empty mug.

He stared at you for a second until he snapped out of his thoughts, taking the mug and rushing to the sink to wash it. You chuckled at the sight. You were glad it was him whom you had stumbled upon. Although clumsy, he was being the sweetest.

"I guess I'll go to sleep," you said as he was still rinsing your remaining tea.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you have everything you need?"

"Don't worry, I'll call you if anything."

He nodded his head with satisfaction before wishing for you to sleep well. As he watched your frame disappear, he let out a heavy breath. He knew his social anxiety was bad but this was becoming an issue. He headed to the couch and settled himself to doze off. Still, his mind was on you, on how he had interacted with you. Meanwhile, you were staring at the ceiling blankly, wondering if you were even sure if you could get back home. That, and also thinking how it wouldn't be so bad to stay with these welcoming gentlemen.

To sum it all quickly, you didn't sleep much that night, and neither did Jisung.

If you thought you ever had a headache, the one you got when waking up was much worse than anything you'd had experienced. This was mildly due to the events of the previous day, but also to the screaming happening on the other side of the apartment. You felt safer leaving the door open to have easy access to help in case you needed any but this was not a good choice on your part. You had slightly forgotten men could be noisy as hell when it came to living with other men. And this, it was a confirmation you were not in a dream and still in a fictional character's home.

"Chan, give me the fucking eggs!" you heard Changbin shout angrily while the two others were uncontrollably laughing.

You yawned loudly before getting off the bed, rubbing your eyes in the process. Even if your body was telling you to get back into the soft bedsheets and sleep all day, your mind was screaming for you to not miss a moment to find a solution to your, slightly surreal, problem. Thus, you joined the three boys in the kitchen who were all still in their sleeping attires. By that, I mean Chan and Changbin were shirtless again while Jisung was wearing shorts with a tank top that was a bit too tight in your opinion. You unconsciously began to check them out in silence, standing like a poll.

Changbin finally noticed you and waved in a nonchalant way, visibly annoyed by his friends' antics. "Hey."

Jisung's head shot up from his breakfast to you and he didn't lose a second to join your side. "Hey, good morning. How did you sleep? Are you feeling better? Can I make you something to eat?"

His friends exchanging knowing looks didn't go unnoticed by you but you determined it would be better for the younger guy to be spared from such embarrassment and you ignored them. "I slept alright, although I do have a bit of a headache."

"I have Tylenols in the bathroom's cabinet. Do you want one or two?"

"I'll take two if you don't mind."

He hummed before sprinting to the said-bathroom, which left his friends struggling more to contain their cackles. You ignored them still and joined Changbin, whose body was quite distracting to say the least, and scanned the items displayed in front of him.

"What are you eating?"

The man left a frustrated sigh. "Toast and eggs if only Chan wasn't being a dick by hiding them from me."

"I told you I hid nothing, we just don't have eggs!"

"There were three left yesterday when I checked. How would they disappear out of nowhere?"

Jisung came back with two pills and a glass full of water, sheepishly smiling as he approached his friends. "Yeah, uh, I might have eaten them last night."

Both shut their eyes closed, clearly trying to not burst out at him. Meanwhile, you left out a small chuckle and joined him to get your pills.

"Thank you," you smiled at him and you saw his Adam's apple bop.

He returned the smile shyly to then focus back on the important matter of the day. "I didn't know you'd have an egg craving this morning."

Changbin shook his head. "It's not a craving, I need my proteins for my workout today," he huffed out as it this was the most obvious thing.

They continued to bicker for some time. It lasted long enough for Chan to remember you were still there and probably very hungry. He made two portions of his own breakfast, which was a bowl of cereals and fruits, and sat next to you while placing both dishes on the table. You gave him a thankful smile and the two of you savoured the food while Jisung was trying his very best to defend himself.

"You can just go buy some later," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I needed to eat them now, or it would fuck up my very precise diet."

You let out a grunt, and stood straight up. "Gosh, can you two shut up? I get that I'm bursting into your bubble by having slept here but I have a headache and memories to regain so can you please put your quarrel aside for now?"

To that, Chan pursed his lips and clapped quietly, obviously impressed. As for Jisung, he looked right into your eyes, unable to move. Day two and he was still fucking things up around you, great. He muttered an apology, not even loud enough to be heard, and embarrassingly walked back to his spot at the table to finish his breakfast.

"Sorry, Y/N. I guess I did overreact," Changbin admitted even though you could see it was hurting his pride.

The entire flat was silent for a few minutes with only the sounds from munching your food being heard. Eventually, Changbin went to get changed and headed out to what you presumed to be the gym. Chan was the next person to put his dishes in the dishwasher and lock himself in his room. That left a very quiet Jisung alone with you. He was hunching slightly and his eyes were focused on his phone, almost as to distract himself from your presence.

Feeling a bit offended, you called his name out. His doe-like eyes instantly found yours and you had to keep yourself from squealing at how cute he looked.

"Did you contact your friend for my phone?"

His eyes that were already big enough in your opinion got larger and his mouth opened agape. He most definitely had forgotten.

"I'll call him right now, I'm sorry."

He left the app he was scrolling through previously and dialed up a number before putting it on speaker. Nervous, he was nibbling on his lower lip while his legs were jumping up and down. Even with friends, having to call someone was a challenge for him.

"Han?" a deep voice answered the call.

"Hey, am I bothering?" Jisung asked, visibly uneasy.

"Never, what's up?"

"I got this... Uh, how do I say it? I met this girl yesterday-"

"Wait, a girl?" he cut him off with a gasp.

From the reaction of his friend, Jisung rolled his eyes before looking at you apologetically. He should have expected Felix to react this way by the mention of a girl. Jisung was too insecure and nervous to approach one, it was almost a miracle he even had the courage to even speak to you. Well, the context was much different. He was a man of principles and one of them was to always offer a helping hand to someone in need — you in this case.

"Where? How? What happened? Is she cute? Did you ask her out?"

For what seemed to be the hundredth time to him, he blushed and chuckled nervously. "She can hear you..."

There was a pause from the other side of the line for a brief moment. "Oh."

"Yeah, uh... So I was on a stroll around the neighbourhood and saw her having some kind of panic attack. She's calmed down since but she lost her memories. She has a phone but she can't remember her code so I was wondering if you could come by and unlock it for her, please."

"Sure, I'm with Hyunjin right now, though. Is it fine if he comes too?"

"Yeah, no problem. Thank you, I owe you one." He quickly hung up and smiled before looking at you. "Felix is an expert when it comes to technology, you'll see."

"I trust your judgement," you affirmed. "In the meantime, can I ask you a few questions?"

He was a mystery to you. Not only because he was from another universe, but also because of how he has been acting around you. If you had watched the entire movie before teleporting in it, you would've probably understood his being a lot better. However, his shy attitude and the way he acted when you were talking about his mother was something that bugged your brain cells.

"What kind of questions?"

You shrugged. "I know nothing about myself so I can't really tell you about me. But you have been so nice to me, it's only natural I'd like to know more about you."

"Good point," he let out a breathy laugh. "Alright, go ahead."

"Have you always been this introverted?"

With no hesitation, he shook his head no which wasn't the answer you expected. "I used to be outgoing but things got complicated at some point and I- let's say I rather keep to myself."

"But you've been pretty outgoing with me, no?"

He frowned, seemingly not agreeing with you. "Are you kidding? I'm surprised I'm not having a panic attack right now."

"You're doing good," you reassured with a chuckle.

"Thanks," he said with a nervous cough. "I'm trying."

An awkward silence settled between the two of you while you were still figuring out how to bring up the topic of his mother, especially his feelings towards it. The only thing that you could assume was the trauma it must have caused him based on what you saw on screen yourself.

A knock on his front door was all it took to bring your mind back on track, which caused Jisung to physically relax and run to answer whoever was coming. When the door opened, two men were greeted warmly by the young man. One was standing tall and gracious with his long dark locks falling in front of his eyes. He was pretty, you thought. The other was shorter but his voice was deep, so much you were doubting it was actually his voice. The freckles on his face stood out as much as his smile and his blonde hair was another aspect you took notice of. You learned him to be Felix and the moment his eyes fell onto your small figure, he stared at you with bright open eyes, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Oh my, Y/N! I swore Mina and I thought you vanished," he said in a worried voice as he sat where Jisung was previously. "Why didn't you answer our calls? Wait, let me guess, you put your phone on Do not disturb again?"

The taller man, who you were informed to be named Hyunjin from Jisung's greeting, rolled his eyes and sat next to him. The move was very smooth, you were doubting if this man was a model or an angel. Both answers would've made sense.

"Let the girl breathe, you're scaring her. Didn't Han say she has amnesia? Gosh, I'd think you're the one with no memories," he huffed, insinuating that Felix was stupid.

You were a bit startled by his rather rude behaviour but when you looked at Felix's reaction, it seemed to be a normal thing between them. As for Jisung, he stood still next to the door and confusion was sprawled all over his face.

"You know her?" he asked.

Felix lifted his eyes up, as if it was the most obvious thing. "She lives with Mina next to our place."

You nodded your head slowly although you were still totally clueless. "Right, Mina..."

"You really forgot? Damn, okay. Well, I know your passcode because you told me so this won't be a problem. I'm very curious, though. Do you know what happened to you?"

Telling them the truth was tempting but, again, who would even believe you? The thing itself was a mystery to you and felt surreal, you doubted they would take you seriously. Even more so if you mention the movie aspect of it.

"No idea," you shrugged which disappointed Felix.

"Alright, I'll help you regain your memories, then," he sighed and held out his hand in your direction. "Give me your phone."

You did as told and, immediately, Felix tapped the password with no problem before giving it back to you. As you browsed through the apps, you realized not much was different from what you had in your actual phone. If anything, this was the spitting image of it. Your first instinct was to go for the photos you had. As expected, many of them were of your bunny but another majority of them were of you with another girl.

"Mina?" you asked Felix, pointing at the girl's face to which he nodded as a confirmation.

"Your roommate and best friend. If I'm correct, you two have been friends for almost your entire life."

You continued to scroll through the pictures attentively. The other you had a much busier life. You seemed to be out in college parties often and other photos showed yourself in classes with many other friends. You were also quite disturbed to see that your parents were the same ones you had in your real life. Was the movie like this or did your unintentional arrival modify it?

One picture grabbed your attention more than others. It was you at a party again but what your focus was on was the boy behind you smiling happily with a bottle of beer in hands.

"Jisung?" you called for him to see and he proceeded to rush to your sides, hovering above your shoulder to see better.

Your breath cut short at the proximity as you could feel his own hit the side of your face. For a second, your mind went foggy and you turned your head around to look at him. His frown showed as much confusion as you had and you noticed his lips to be pinker than you thought.

"Is this me?" he said in a whisper, which reminded you to focus.

"So you knew who I am!" you exclaimed, almost offended he didn't tell you.

"I swear I don't recall seeing you ever," he tried to justify himself.

Felix stole the device from you and looked at the photo as well, Hyunjin leaning closer to do the same. While he couldn't figure out when this was taken as he was in the picture as well, Hyunjin seemed to have recognized the moment instantly.

"This was at Jeongin's."

"Who?" you and Jisung asked at the same time.

You looked at one another and a blush appeared on both of your faces. Hyunjin, however, didn't give a shit about your somewhat cute interaction and went on with explaining.

"Jeongin, a friend of mine. He hosted a party about a year ago with pretty much the whole cohort of freshmen."

"Oh," Felix exclaimed as the memory came back to him. "Yeah, there were people I never talked to again after that. Must have been the case for you two."

"But if I'm friends with you-" you began but were cut right away.

"We're neighbours, not friends. I don't hang out with you much, no offense."

"None taken."

Suddenly, you heard a small gasp coming from behind you. All eyes stopped on Jisung who was covering his mouth with his hand. You cocked your head to the side to incite him to speak but he shook his head and left to run to his room. You glanced at the two remaining men in search of an answer but they shrugged and continued to look through your pictures.

"Ah, look! Your most recent one dates from yesterday," Hyunjin noticed and gave you the phone back.

You scanned the screen and frowned. In the background, you could see a tuft of hair that was too similar to Jisung's for it to not be his. You were wearing the same outfit as the previous day and you were obviously only taking a cute selfie for yourself. This was without a doubt taken just before you appeared. Was this version of you an actual person? Where was she now if you were in her body at this very moment? What if she was in yours? How traumatic for her would that be if she learned she was nothing more than an extra in a Netflix film.

"I wonder where I was going," you decided to say for now, not wanting to look suspicious.

"If I had to guess, back home. You're on an internship in an accounting company this semester, thus the attire."

You were so grateful Felix knew about you enough to give you a better insight of your life. Nonetheless, this was helping you in no way to go back to your universe. You discarded the phone away from you and let your head fall on the table while mumbling a "thank you" to him.

"The school offers free therapy sessions for those in need," Hyunjin suggested, earning a bump of the elbow from his friend. "What? Sorry for trying to help."

"I can take you back to your place for now, Mina might be better than me to help you," Felix offered, ignoring Hyunjin.

"That would be great, yeah," you said gratefully, lifting your head up. "Can you take me now?" He nodded. "Good. You don't mind if I go thank Jisung first?"

"Go ahead."

The door of his room was closed which came as no surprise considering the way he left so abruptly. Still, you knocked softly and waited patiently for him to answer. It took a minute or so but he did open the door, just wide enough for you to see his face. Just when you thought you had seen him at his most embarrassed, here he was, avoiding your gaze.

"Felix is going to get me home."

He nodded quickly before muttering "That's good."

"I came to thank you again for letting me stay. Not many people are as kind as you have been to me."

He cleared his throat. "I told you, it's no problem."

"Still, thank you."

Since you were visibly making more and more uncomfortable, you didn't stay any longer and were quick to head out, not forgetting to at least wave bye to Chan.

You weren't living far from there, only a couple of streets away. On the walk to your dorm, you learned Felix and Hyunjin were living together and that they were both studying in contemporary arts at the same college you were attending. Both knew you to be the nice girl next door while Mina was much louder than you were. Needless to say, you were looking forward to meet this girl.

"You're at the end of the hallway and we're here," Hyunjin informed as he stopped in front of their place. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you, guys, so much."

Felix sent you one of his warm smiles and the two of them disappeared into their home. You stared at the door in the end of the hallway slightly scared. You had no idea what to expect but, here you were. Having not much of a choice, you went ahead and unlocked the door with what Felix told you to be the key to your place before walking in.

The first thing you saw was a wide playpen with a bunny munching onto its food; Fifi. You wondered if she had the same name or not. Just besides it was a couch where a girl was lazily scrolling through her feed. Upon hearing someone coming in, her head turned to see who it was. From her face, you concluded she was relieved to see it was you. Immediately, she jumped off the couch and came to hug you tightly.

"Y/N, what the fuck! I was worried sick, where the hell were you?" she almost screamed into your ear.

Yeah, she was definitely a loud person.

"Hey..." you trailed off, unsure on what to respond.

She let go of the hug, still holding your shoulders, and gave you a skeptical look. She scanned you from up and down which made you self-conscious for a second. It was almost like she was leading her own investigation.

"Why are you so stiff?"

Upon hearing her remark, you tried to relax a little but according to her expression, this did not work. "Uh, you might want to sit down for this one."

Her eyes went wide and she grabbed you to go sit on the couch. "What? Did you meet someone and slept at their place? Did you get kidnapped?"

Gosh, she really was adamant about your whereabouts and getting answers from you. In a way, you couldn't blame her as she had been thinking for almost 24 hours that her best friend had vanished. It didn't mean this didn't overwhelm you nonetheless.

"Kind of?"

"Which one? The kidnapped part or sleeping at someone's place?"

"The second one."

She gasped in surprise. "You slept with one of your co-workers!"

You rolled her eyes at her assumption, growing tired of her already. "Mina, can you let me speak please?" She seemed to get startled by your intervention but she nodded and kept her mouth shut. "Thank you. Okay, so, where do I start? Uh, first of all, I actually don't know you."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? We've known each other our whole life."

"This is more complicated..."

Then, you proceeded to explain everything to her. Well, the whole amnesia story. She surprisingly sat still and listened throughout your entire monologue, expressing a couple of times her reactions with gasps and hums. When you were done, she was looking up in the air to think. You hoped what you said made enough sense so she wouldn't have any doubts.

"Han Jisung who lives with Chan, no?" she asked and you nodded. "As in Bang Chan?"

You shrugged. "I don't know his last name but I guess it was him."

"Damn, you were with these losers," she exploded in laughter.

If she really was your best friend in this world, you were beginning to question yourself on why you would hang around someone thinking this low of other people. To you, these guys couldn't be any kinder. Besides the fact their apartment was a bit trashy, you couldn't think of a single thing that would make someone call them with such names.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, honey," she started with an exhale. "They've been telling people they will become a successful group but they've been getting nothing more than a few gigs here and there. Not only that but I've heard Han can't even come up on stage."

Your heart dropped. Of course he would have stage fright, he was so insecure just by stepping foot outside of his home. Something else bugged you about her comments. She had a bittersweet tone coming with it, like she had an history with these guys.

"It doesn't make them losers..."

She scoffed. "Wow, amnesia did something to you. If you still had your memories, you would agree with me."

"I just don't understand why you'd say they're losers if they're struggling with their career. Challenges happen to everyone."

"I know but- You know what? I'll tell you after you regain your memories. For now, I'll help you get back into the real world."

If only she meant this as actually going back... If she were to have this attitude while helping you go through this, you were debating to go back to Jisung's place and let them help you instead.

However, after this uncomfortable altercation, she was being nothing but the sweetest. She went through every aspect of your life slowly, from your birth until now, and made sure you were following along. Everything you had to remember about your present self wasn't so complicated; you were an accounting student following an internship and you were a second year college student. You liked your bunny a lot (who you discovered to be named Fifi as well), your best friend was Mina and Seungmin was your favourite co-worker at your internship. As for your personality, you were pretty much the same with the exception of loving to go out and socialize.

Great. You were going to love being here.

A week or so had passed since your arrival and you were starting to panic. There was not a day where you wouldn't get homesick and miss your old life, nor there would be a moment you thought of the potential other you having to live elsewhere. This was still a mystery to you. In the little time you had to do some research about travelling through different dimensions, the only thing you would find were fictional stories or theories from crazy people that were in no way consistent with what you were experiencing.

Besides that, accounting would never be a field of career you would personally choose which made all the lot more difficult. You were lucky to have Seungmin, a bright guy who volunteered to help you adapt upon learning about your issue.

"You're getting better," he commented after reviewing your report.

"Hopefully I'll be as good as I was in no time," you sighed before letting yourself drop on your chair. "Why did I even choose accounting?"

"You'd do it with such ease, it was an obvious choice."

"Yeah, well post-amnesia me hates it."

"And post-amnesia you is done with her shift for today."

You checked the time and realized he was right. You were glad today was ending in the early afternoon, it meant you would have time to stop by at the school's library to go on with your research. Without losing another minute, you sorted your documents on the small desk that you were assigned at and grabbed your belongings.

"See you tomorrow?"

Seungmin shook his head and chuckled. "Tomorrow is Saturday."

You formed an "o" with your mouth, blushing from embarrassment. You were quick to say bye to him and walk out of the building. Luckily, the campus wasn't too far from there. Nonetheless, you had to use the GPS as you weren't used to the neighbourhood yet. You were hoping you would never get used to it, anyway.

Having to wear heels at the company, you got the habit of bringing a pair of sneakers to change into once the day was over. This way, you could walk like a normal person instead of stumbling onto your own feet.

Once you reached the school's library, you were a bit intimidated by the size of it. There were so many rows just filled with bricks of books, each one of them different than the other. How on Earth would you find what you were looking for?

"May I help you?"

Your gaze moved to the front desk where the person calling for you spoke and you jumped at the sight. While the gentleman at the computer was smiling politely at you, a quiet Jisung was seemingly sorting books behind him, doing everything he could to avoid your eyes.

"Hi, do you have some sort of search browser for the books available here?" you asked the young man.

"There's a browser available on every public computer, although I have one with me just here. I can type in the book you're looking for right now."

"Oh, that's very nice but I'm actually not looking for one book in particular."

The man held his hand up to stop you. "Let me guess, magazine issues for a research project because the teacher asked for a paper reference?"

"Uh, no."

Your answer confused him furthermore, causing him to drop his shoulders in exasperation. "You read for fun?"

"Minho," Jisung interrupted the conversation. "You could help her instead of judging."

You were pleased to know he had enough self-esteem in him to speak his mind. The two of you hadn't seen or spoken to each other since you went back home-ish and you had been wondering what he was up to. Him working at the college's library had definitely not been what you thought he'd do to make money. Still, this was only a student job so it made sense. But a library? You didn't see a single actual book in his room.

"Right," Minho cleared his throat. "I apologize, what can I look up for you?"

"I'd rather look it up by myself if you don't mind," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"No problem, the computers are behind the philosophy essays section."

You nodded your head but didn't move the slightest. While this was supposed to be a place every student would go to get their work done, you didn't know your way here. Heck, it was a miracle you even made it to the library considering you visited the campus once in the week you'd been here.

"Go straight ahead and turn left when you see the couches."

You smiled at Jisung as a thank you, although he didn't return it, and followed his directions. Soon enough, you sat down at one of the stations and turned the PC on. The screen flashed the school's logo beautifully before it changed to the log in page.

Of course, you had to get into your student account to have access to this stupid computer. If you had an account, you certainly didn't have a clue about what your infos were. You went into your phone's notes to check if the other you had noted it down at some point. When you stumbled upon a note named Passwords, you thought you held the solution to your problem. However, the note itself was private and needed another code to get in. Even by trying your phone's passcode, it stayed locked.

Decisively, the world was against you for this one. Having no other option, you opted to look for what you were searching for on your own without any catalog. If it had to take until midnight, you'd stay until midnight.

You searched one row, and this one only took forty minutes to get through. This was discouraging but you wouldn't give up just yet. And so, another row was done after another forty minutes. There wasn't a book remotely close to what you needed, it was frustrating. And so, another row, another forty minutes.

"Need something?"

You really had to stop jumping every time something took you by surprise. Your focus was lost when Jisung, who was leaning on the bookshelf, was staring at you with a concerned look.

What you weren't aware of was that he had been watching you since you stepped foot in the library. He couldn't keep his mind off you since you left and seeing you so suddenly made him quite nervous. Seeing that you were as much of a mess as he was when you were looking around for a few hours now, it was good enough to give him courage to make the first move and come up to you.

"Actually, yes. I'd look through the catalog but I don't have a student account."

"Or rather you forgot it," he corrected and you nodded. "What do you need? It's my second year working here, I know the place like the back of my hand."

"No, I really rather look into it on my own."

He sighed but didn't insist any further. "Alright, I'll log you into my account."

You let out a breathy groan, throwing your head back in relief. "You have no idea how you're saving my life right now."

And you meant every word in their literal sense, unbeknownst to him. He led you back to the computers and chose one where he logged into in no time. You wanted to cry out of joy when you saw the welcoming page pop up with the school's tools already opened for the students.

"Thank you so much, I really owe you now."

He scratched the back of his head in uneasiness. "It's nothing."

You shook your head vigorously, refusing his answer. "You're too kind for this world and I want you to know it."

A blush crept on his cheeks and he allowed himself to smile a little. "Alright, then you're welcome."

With a satisfied grin, you sat down and opened the library's browser immediately. You looked into the categories first to see if you could make a more subtle research before jumping right into the actual topic. The section Legends and Myths caught your attention and you clicked on it. A vast selection of books, magazines and essays were offered to you which almost made you want to give up on the spot. But still, nothing online was helping you so this was your last hope.

You spent a lot of time, too much time, scrolling through the catalog. So much, you hadn't realized how dark it was outside until you looked around. There was nobody left, only you. When you checked the time, it was merely 8:00 P.M. which meant you still had about three to four hours to continue. However, the growl coming from your stomach was telling to take a break and get a snack. Were you too stubborn to quit and kept on searching anyway? Yes, you were.

The sound of wheels coming your way, on the other hand, could not let you focus properly. It was weird as you thought everyone had left. That was until you saw Minho and Jisung conversing while the latter was pushing a cart labelled with a paper reading Returned Books. Minho, who wearing his school bag, waved at his colleague before heading out, seemingly having finished his shift for the day.

"Jisung?" you called out once the man was alone.

He was startled to see you still at the same spot as earlier but he came your way, leaving the cart behind him. "What's up?"

"Is there a section about scientific research or something like that?"

"What kind of scientific research?" he perked an eyebrow at you. "Aren't you in accounting?"

"Uh..." you trailed off. This was too suspicious to your liking, you had to do without his help. "Actually, forget it. I wouldn't want to bother you while you still have stuff to do," you justified while gesturing the cart from afar.

Jisung wasn't having any of your bullshit. Sure, you were sweet and all but because you had been there for almost the entirety of his shift, he was growing skeptical of you. Your sudden amnesia was one thing but it had been a week, surely you wouldn't be in a library for hours not getting any actual schoolwork done if you didn't have something to hide. As observant as he was, he noticed all of your quirks. All of them were so similar to his own, meaning you were nervous. He didn't want to accuse you of anything, he genuinely wanted to help. Nonetheless, your behaviour caused him to doubt.

Or maybe was it just an excuse he was making up to get closer to you...

"The cart can wait," he argued.

And maybe having one person knowing about your situation might actually come handy. And if you had to pick someone to be aware of it, it would be Jisung. You weren't close enough with Seungmin and Mina seemed to have a tendency of gossiping and talking too much. Jisung was ideal. Plus, the man was the protagonist of the movie, a movie you weren't close to have finished watching. Having the opportunity to get a full insight into his personality wasn't an opportunity you'd pass on.

"Uh, okay," you started, preparing yourself mentally. "I- Can you promise me to not tell a word about this to anyone?"

His expression changed instantly, coming from a frown to a surprise. "What are you about to confess? A crime or something?"

"No, but it's still a pretty big thing and- Just promise me you won't tell a soul about it and that you won't judge me. And that you'll believe me."

His frown came back but he didn't seem as taken aback. "Uh, sure, yeah. I'll keep it to myself."

"Thanks... Okay, uh, where do I begin?"

"Hey," he said while putting a hand on your shoulder, a move that surprised the both of you. "I promise I won't say a thing, you can trust me."

This seemed to do the trick and you calmed down. "I don't have amnesia, I am perfectly fine in terms of memory. I just- I'm not from here."

"What do you mean?"

You were so fucking thankful he didn't accuse you of lying right away. "Do you know the theory about the universe having multiple copies of itself? Hence, many versions of a person?"

"I've seen it in movies."

"Yeah, except this is pretty fucking real for me right now and I somehow managed to come into a parallel universe in my other self's body."

You decided to spare him from telling him he's a movie's character. This was already a lot of information to process for him, telling him he wasn't real would be crushing him.

For a moment, he didn't respond. The frown never left his face. If anything, it got more defined. The longer he wasn't answering, the more you were getting nervous. Did you fuck it up by telling him (half) the truth?

"I saw one book about it, but I'm not sure if it applies to your situation."

Good, he didn't call you crazy. "Can you show it to me, please?"

He immediately led you to a section that was the furthest away from the entrance. It was a bit sketchy as it visibly wasn't frequented a lot. His eyes scanned a specific shelf while his fingers ran through the books. Eventually, he picked one out that had a hard cover with nothing on it other than the title: The Multiverse and its travelers.

"Here, hopefully it'll do."

You took it from him and read the back of it to figure out if it was fit for you or not. When you saw the phrase "seizures and blackouts tend to occur before the shift itself", you determined it would do the job. This was the closest you had gotten to knowing what happened, you had to read this.

"It's perfect, thank you."

"Great, I can enter it under your student account now," he smiled as he was about to go back to the front desk.

You shook your head immediately, grabbing his forearm to stop him. "I can't rent this. What if the other Y/N or other people see this? They'll have questions."

He sighed but he got your point. "I can put it under my name if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Please."

It didn't take him long to enter everything in the system before he gave the book back to you. You were so grateful he didn't react as bad as you expected. Not just that, he was even willing to give you a hand.

"Now that this is done, can you explain what happened to you to have travelled universes?"

Okay, maybe he wasn't totally chill with your situation, which was totally understandable. Before you could speak, your stomach made, yet, another grumble to tell you that you must eat.

"We can do this over a snack," he suggested.

"Aren't you working right now?"

He shrugged, unfazed. "Nobody's here and I can empty the returned books tomorrow."

In no time at all, he put the cart back behind the desk, clocked out of his shift, locked the doors, and walked you to the nearest convenience store. He insisted on paying for your drink and ramen, saying you must be exhausted from the day. Although you wanted to tell him otherwise, he wasn't wrong.

And that's how you were now sitting on the benches of the school's empty football field with only a couple of lights for you to see around.

"Alright, go ahead with the questions," you breathed out before taking a bite of your noodles.

He let out a chuckle as he watched you slurp. "Which one do I even ask first?"

"Whatever comes to your mind."

"Okay, uh... Where are you from?"

You hummed. "I actually don't know what to call it. Earth, obviously, but it's just another version of this one."

"Is it different here?"

"Not really, it's the same year and all but my other self is living a completely different type of life."

"How come?"

"I don't party that much, nor do I like anything having to do with accounting."

He let out a laugh. "I'd say I'm the same."

"Yeah, staying at home is ten times better."

"I agree," he acquiesced before taking a bite of his own meal. "What happened before you got here?"

You shrugged. "I tripped, thought I hit my head, and here I am."

"That's odd."

"Tell me about it," you said in a scoff. "How was I when you met me, anyway?"

"Do you mean you as in you or your other self?"

You frowned. "I thought you didn't know my other self."

He sighed. "I do know her, I just forgot about her. At the party, we actually hooked up but when she learned Mina had a feud with Chan, she told me to forget this even happened."

This explained many things, especially why Mina had such a dislike to the three men. You also began to wonder how did Jisung get in bed with the other you. Before your mind could go much further with that, you stopped yourself and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, it worked," you chuckled awkwardly. "But yeah, how was I last week in front of that playground?"

He bit in lips while thinking, one of his habits you thought to be adorable. "From afar, you were walking around normally but then, you just kind of froze and began to have a panic attack or something."

"And you were kind enough to come to my rescue," you saw with a dreamy sigh, making him roll his eyes.

"Make fun of me all you want, you're happy I'm the one who rescued you."

"I am," you affirmed.

The blush on his face didn't go unnoticed by you, which also made your face red. Gosh, he really had to be this stinking cute? You had to muster all of your energy to not pinch his plump cheeks.

"Your name is really Y/N, right?" he asked just to be sure.

"That part is true."

"Okay, good."

Unlike other times, the silence that slowly settled between you two was rather comforting. Maybe it was because you had been mostly honest with him, or maybe because he was managing to get more comfortable around you. Either or both ways, you were content with how sereine it was.

"This is fucked up," he commented.

"I know."

As a new silence took over, Jisung's eyebrows furrowed as he stared into his ramen cup, deep in thoughts. While he was having what was probably a mental debate, you gave yourself permission to stare closely at his physical traits. He was hard to read and complex, which was mainly what made him so fascinating to you in the first place. His character was developed as someone so real and sincere, you were almost disappointed he wasn't actually real. His bead-like soft eyes, his perfect glowing skin, his hair that-

"My mom died," he informed you out of the blue.

Your heartbeat quickened all of the sudden. While you processed what he just said, the image of her death came back to you. "I'm sorry," was all you found the energy to say.

"That playground we were at last week was where she was hit by a car. I was so young, it was painful."

Sadness rushed through your body as you were now getting a full image of his emotions. You never expected him to be transparent with you about it, even less since you didn't know each other so well.

"Why are you telling me this? This seems to be pretty personal."

He smiled sadly. "I think she's the reason why I wanted to help you then. I felt her around me, telling me to save someone else for her."

"That's very sweet," you commented in a soft voice.

"It is," he laughed out. "I miss her a lot."

"I would too if I was you."

Slowly, the night came as you began to hear crickets around you. Deciding this was enough for tonight, the two of you left the school grounds. Jisung was generous once more when he offered to walk you home. He would lie if he said his heart didn't pinch when you refused. Nonetheless, you parted ways and began to walk in opposite directions on the dark streets. You were getting further away from each other when you decided to turn on your heels and run back to him. As he heard you come back, he turned around, watching you until you got face to face with him.

"Can I have your number? Since you're the only person who knows about my struggle," you explained, even if you used it as an excuse to keep contact with him.

"Yeah, sure. We can meet a few times to search for a way back together," he suggested which made you grin.

You might not have found a way home that day, but you found a friend.

Mina was still staring at you with disgust while you were getting ready to go to Jisung's place. Apparently, Changbin and Chan were going to a party that night which left the apartment to himself. This was merely three days after your interaction at the library and you were still somehow stressed out about meeting up with him. The fact Mina was throwing a few comments at you about him didn't help.

"I'm simply trying to understand what you find interesting in him," she groaned.

"He's done a lot for me since the incident, I owe him."

She sighed in despair. "Alright but if he breaks your heart like Chan did to me, don't be surprised!"

You also took the weekend as an opportunity to get to know your roommate and her relationship she had with Chan. It had taken a toll on her emotionally, so much that she had no intention in being polite with whatever — or whoever — that was in relation with him.

"Don't become besties with him or I'll seriously consider cutting you out of my life," she added.

You deadpanned at her. "You wouldn't actually."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not but I wouldn't be happy with it."

With that being said, you left the apartment and made your way to Jisung's place with your bag hanging on your shoulder, full since it contained your belongings plus his clothes you had forgotten to give him back. You were starting to know your way around which you didn't consider as a good sign. This meant you were getting used to this place and it just couldn't be like this.

The moment you knocked on Jisung's front door, it slung open for him to welcome you with a smile. He had seemingly cleaned a little around but it was still messy, as expected.

"So, I looked up some stuff online and I'm surprised you didn't see what was on there. It looks like many people believe to have experienced it," he said before turning his laptop's screen to your direction.

"I did see those and it just sounds like people dreaming of another universe before "travelling". For me, I just tripped."

His shoulders dropped. "I see."

"I appreciate the effort, though," you reassured, feeling a bit bad.

He invited you to get to his room where he could make some more research on his PC while you'd have the bed to read the book comfortably. Before going there, he didn't forget to make some hot beverages for the two of you as you were expecting for this to last a long while.

His bed was as comfortable as you remembered, you had almost missed it. Not that your own bed in this world wasn't nice, it just felt a bit too firm. Jisung's, however, was soft and warm. As you began your reading session, the only thing you could hear was Jisung typing on his keyboard and clicking with his mouse. It wasn't annoying in itself, but it was too distracting for you to focus.

When you realized you had been reading the same sentence for the fifth time, you decided to do something about it. Getting up, you tapped on his shoulder which made him take his headphones off.

"Did you find something?" he immediately questioned but you shook your head.

"Your typing is kind of distracting on its own. Do you have music you can play in the background?"

He blinked a few times before nodding. "I was listening to my own stuff, actually."

Oh, right. Jisung was described as a struggling musician in the synopsis, you had almost forgotten about that. This suddenly made him all the more interesting than the search and he definitely saw it in your eyes. Hesitantly, he disconnected his headset and plugged his speakers in before opening his files. There were so many audiotapes, you were stunned. To think all of this were his creations.

"I don't think I've told you but the guys and I are music majors."

"You didn't tell me but I heard about it, yeah."

"Well, we've been experiencing with sounds and beats to find what fits us. This is all of it, pretty much. We're trying to make an actual career out of it but none of the calls we've made have come back," he said as he let out a heavy breath, one of disappointment. "I'm actually starting to consider giving up on that."

You scoffed. "Nonsense, you're great!"

"How do you know? You've never heard anything by me."

Not exactly. The clips of him in his room struggling to make music in the film had a few samples of his songs playing and you did remember them to be very good. Of course, he would never know this, so you had to lie.

"I haven't but I'm confident you're very talented."

He chuckled, embarrassed. "Now I'm just nervous to show you if you have such high expectations."

"Don't be."

He scrolled through his files for a bit in search of the perfect song to show you first. There were many that were done with the other guys. Still, he felt like he wanted to show something that was 100% him. Something raw that you could relate to. The cursor stopped for an instant on his track Alien. Considering the context, this must have been the fittest one for you. So he clicked on it, letting it play through the speakers.

And just as he thought, this could not have been a better choice. From the first note, you were entirely immersed into the melody, bopping your head along with it. And when he began to sing, damn you were melting. Not only were his lyrics so personal and true, his voice had a melodic effect that made you want to squeal. Seriously, why was he struggling with his career if this was what he was putting out?

When the song ended, the only thing you could do was let out an emotional sigh. "You, guys, have so much talent."

He scratched the side of his arm sheepishly before shaking his head. "That was just me," he corrected.

"All of it?" you asked with admiration.

"All of it, from the sound to the singing and the lyrics."

He wasn't one to brag usually, but if it impressed you and interested you, there was nothing wrong with showing off a little. This information had visibly made you more fascinated by his work and you didn't hesitate to steal his mouse and put the cursor over another track.

You did this for a while, playing one song after the other. You were as amazed as you were by the first one every single time. This eventually made Jisung so shy about his work, he had to force you to stop even if you argued you wanted to listen to more. Forcefully, he kept you away from his computer and put a random playlist on for what you had originally requested, which was ambiance music.

You crossed your arms and pouted. "Is it so bad to want to listen to raw talent?"

"When the artist is right in front of you, yes. Now, get back to work."

You snorted at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Nevertheless, you still opened the book and continued to read. The first couple of pages weren't telling anything new. It mostly consisted of summing up what was already known of travelling through the multiverse, meaning not much. Although the research this author made was impressive, this had in no way the exact thing you were looking for. And as your reading kept on going, the more discouraged you were growing. There was a point you thought of abandoning the book. However, there were still too many pages left to risk missing something out.

"Got anything?" Jisung finally spoke after about an hour of research.

"Nothing, what about you?"

"Apart from a few people on Reddit talking about their shifting experience in their sleep, nothing."

You scoffed. "Yeah, not relevant to my case."

You closed the book and let out a loud yawn, catching Jisung's attention. "Tired?"

"A little," you shrugged. "Are you?"

"No, but this is getting tiring if I'm being honest," he chuckled and you smiled as to affirm you agreed. "How about we take a break and order some food?"

"No need to ask me twice."

In the time of a heartbeat, he jumped off his chair and ran out of his room, leaving you chuckling at his demeanor. Jisung was cute, you couldn't argue with that. Even more so because he seemed to like food so much, something you could relate to yourself. Before he would come back, you decided to look around some more, although you had analyzed the place quite a lot on your first day here. His room was cleaner, probably because he knew in advance that you'd be coming. For once, his closet was wide open which gave you a good opportunity to check what he wore on the daily basis. While you had only seen him in casual clothing, what you could see through his clothes were great fashion items. A shelf was filled with different kinds of hats and a whole section was dedicated to jackets of all sorts.

"It's always the fictional characters," you muttered to yourself, thinking about how none of the men from your world had this much taste in their choice of wearing.

"Alright," a loud voice said while coming in the room, almost startling you.

Jisung, unlike what you thought he'd do, sat next to you with a few flyers in hands from restaurants around the neighbourhood. Ramen, sushi, BBQ, fried chicken; there were too many, you felt a bit overwhelmed at the options.

"What do you want?" you insisted on him choosing.

"We could go for ramen," he shrugged before composing the number to make his order. "What would you like?"

"Anything, I'm not picky."

He gave you a nod before focusing back on the call as it seemed that someone answered. "Is this Felix?"

Felix? Why the hell was he calling him all of the sudden?

"Hey, man, can I have two of my usual?" Jisung continued to speak. "In thirty? Okay, good... Yeah... I'll tell him... Bye," he ended the call.

"You called Felix?" you asked.

He frowned. "Yeah, obviously, he–" he was about to say until he realized you actually didn't know. "My bad," he coughed out, embarrassed. "He works at the best ramen place near campus so let's say I get a few free stuff when it's his shift."

"Oh, okay," you said with a nod.

An awkward silence settled as you noticed him starting to fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking at anywhere but you. Although you always found him adorable when he got shy, you weren't going to let this be too uncomfortable for him. He was already helping you a lot, this was the least you could do.

"Do you want to watch something?"

He stopped his fiddling and looked up at you. "Do you think you have the same films and shows where you're from?"

You frowned. "Good question. Show me what you have and I'll tell you if it's the case."

He went to take his laptop and turn it on before sitting back next to you. He shyly gestured for you to get comfortable and lay with your back against the wall. You complied and, soon, he positioned himself next to you. You could see he was a bit nervous but he didn't let it show through too much. He was quick to open his Netflix account, which you thought was nice that the platform was here as well, and he scrolled through the few movies and series that were appearing. From the looks of it and based on his recommendations, he was watching a lot of anime movies and series.

"Yeah, it's very similar to what I have back home," you affirmed. "It's odd, how the hell is it the same?"

Jisung frowned as he also realized how bizarre it was. "Maybe you are in the same world as me?"

You shook your head. "How would you explain this other me having an entire different life than me while having the same name and the same bunny I have? Heck, she has the same parents."

Maybe you really did modify the movie by coming here. For the whole part of you having your own life, at least. As for the content of cinematography, it was logical that a movie would put the same cultural references to make more realistic to the audience. How were you going to explain this to Jisung, though?

"I don't think I have the brain to think about this too much, it's kind of freaking me out," he gulped. "I'm actually just starting to realize how fucked up your thing is..."

Your eyes went wide. "No, please, don't think I'm crazy..." you pleaded.

"I don't know, Y/N, this whole thing is weird as fuck."

"I swear I'm not making this up, I find it as bizarre as you do."

He shook his head. "No, I believe you. It's just, how the fuck?" he trailed off.

You only responded with a faint smile as to show him you weren't understanding this any more than he was. Thankfully, the moment wasn't long and you moved on by suggesting on watching a Ghibli movie. You loved them, he seemed to enjoy them, this was a perfect choice.

As the film was starting, the bell rang and Jisung paused it to go greet the delivery person, which you assumed to be Felix. You were confirmed to be right when the man himself walked in the room behind Jisung with two plastic bags. It took him a moment to take in your presence in his friend's bedroom.

"Damn, I knew this was going to happen after–"

He was interrupted mid-sentence when Jisung put his hand over his mouth. "Yes, this is a great reunion but we're just taking the food and you can be on your way."

"But–" Felix started when he managed to push the hand away, only to get cut off again.

"Felix," he gave him a look. "How much was it?"

Finally understanding he wouldn't get answers tonight, the two proceeded to payment while you watched them, still waiting patiently with the movie on pause. You chuckled upon seeing Jisung's slightly pink cheeks as he crawled back to your side with the food in hands.

"You two, lovebirds, enjoy your date," Felix said in a teasing voice before winking at Jisung.

As the boy left the flat, Jisung couldn't contain his embarrassment any more than this. "I swear to God I will kick his ass next time I see him," you hear him mumble under his breath.

You shrugged. "He has a point, it does look like a date night for a couple."

He cleared his throat. "I suppose it does a little... Anyway, this is what I got. I hope you like sea food."

"Not a favourite," you admitted which caused his shoulders to drop a bit. "I like it, though."

This seemed to cheer him back up and he happily took the bowls out of the bag. Next to his bed was a tray he kept close for occasions like these. Well, not the having-a-girl-over part but rather the watching-films-in-bed part.

"Fancy," you commented once he had everything settled and ready in front of you.

"Only the best for your stay here, miss," he joked and then proceeded to click on play.

You would've lied if you said the ramen wasn't good because this might have been the best meal you've had in years. It felt so perfect being in the comfort of a bed with hot soup while watching one of your favourite movies. Not only that, but there was this cute ass man next to you loving it as much as you were. This was quite a turn of events.

Jisung was a gentleman for taking your dishes out of the room after you were done enjoying the food. This meant that, for the remainder of the film, there was only a slight gap separating the two of you. Your focus no longer on eating, the only thing you could think of was the realization of Jisung's presence.

Needless to say, he was no better than you were. His eyes were still stuck on the screen but he could feel his head move instinctively towards your direction. It was much stronger than his free will, he was gravitating to you. As much as it scared the shit out of him, he was surprised to be loving it so much. You were easy to be around of, he didn't need to waste his social battery on you.

"Are you cold?" he asked as the characters on screen kept quiet for this scene.

You shivered a little, not having understood you were, in fact, cold. "A little."

"I- Do you... want to use the blanket?" he asked with uncertainty as he stared at the bedsheets beneath the both of you.

With a shy nod as a response, he invited you off the mattress so he could actually pull the covers down to allow you to make yourself comfortable. As you sat back down under the blankets, you stared at him in confusion upon noticing he sat still in a very stiff position on the covers of his side.

"This is ridiculous, come under here," you snorted at him but he didn't budge.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" he said in a small voice, making him too cute for your own sake.

"It is if you're making it weird. Don't question it, come on."

While your boldness took him aback for a second, he obliged the second after and, carefully, positioned himself in a much more comfortable way. Still, he was trying to draw himself away as far away from your body as possible. Of course, you understood the thought process of his actions but he was so far to the point he had to lean towards you to see the screen better. Even if you were thankful he was being respectful, this was simply ridiculous.

"Jisung," you sighed.

"What?"

Seeing that he wasn't moving a tiny bit, you took it upon yourself and scooted closer to his body, bringing the laptop with you before laying it on both of your legs. His body stiffed at the proximity and you thought of noticing him gulp.

"Is this okay?"

He looked back at you and nodded, his breath now cutting short from how close your faces were. If he had it in him, he would have kissed you right there and then. But sadly, this was not what happened and Jisung concentrated back to the movie.

A routine was set quite rapidly after that night. Every once in a while, Jisung would call you up so you could make some progress in your research — which I can affirm was not advancing as fast as you wanted it to — and also just hang out. Whether you wanted this to happen or not, you were close to him and he became someone dear to you. Two months and a half after your arrival and you were closer to him than anyone else even, you dared to think, anyone back home.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you snorted at Mina as soon as she stepped foot in the office you and Seungmin were working in.

"Tonight is party time, baby," she cheered. "Soohee is hosting the event of the year."

You exchanged glances with Seungmin before looking back at her. "What does that even mean?"

She deadpanned at you. "Soohee, that senior in theater class."

"The girl you told me we should both hate because she got the spot you wanted in that play?"

"So you do listen!"

You rolled your eyes, resulting to Seungmin laughing. You ignored his antics. "What are you implying here, Mina?"

"You're coming."

"I'm not."

"Please!" she pleaded with a pout. "Seungmin can come as well if that can convince you."

He raised his hand in disapproval. "First of all, I am invited already. Second of all, do I have a say in this?"

"No," Mina replied with a cheeky smile. "Come, Y/N, please. I haven't been out with my favourite girl since her incident and I miss getting drunk with her."

"Yeah, you do owe her that," Seungmin agreed to which you answered with a glare.

"No one asked for your opinion."

"But it is greatly appreciated," she said with a wink.

Looking back and forth at the both of them, you let out a huge groan, dropping your arms on your sides. "Fine, you win. I guess it will help with getting my mind off work and all."

She squealed before rushing to you to engulf your body in a tight hug. It was obvious you were going to regret it but did you really have a choice at this point?

"I'm done in an hour, I can continue working on your file if you want to leave in advance to get ready," Seungmin offered much to your dismay.

Mina's eyes glowed at his suggestion. "You're an angel, thank you so much."

"Nonsense!" you exclaimed. "I'll finish up with you, you can't be doing all of this on your own."

Mina tugged your arm to get you up from your seat. "Y/N," she whined.

Seungmin chuckled at the interaction. "Go, I'll be fine," he assured.

"Okay," you said reluctantly with a grateful smile.

You and Mina then rushed out of the building back to your apartment. The time was only 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and the party wasn't going to start in another two hours or so. But Mina was insistant on getting you ready and gossiping. Yes, gossiping.

As she had just sat you down on a chair in front of the mirror in the bathroom, about to curl your hair, she was giving you a look you were not liking. "So?" she said while wiggling one of her eyebrows.

"What?" you responded cluelessly while sipping onto your bubble tea.

She gave you another knowing look. "Oh, please, don't act like you don't know what I am referring to."

"Jisung?"

"Obviously."

You sighed. "He's helping me with some work, nothing more."

"You could have asked me," she shrugged, insinuating how actually hurt she was for not being as close to you as she used to. "I'm great with school work."

"I know but Jisung is... He just knows some stuff."

She scoffed. "Sure, he does. Just admit you asked for his help because you like the boy."

You got flustered very easily, bending your head onwards a little. Mina immediately replaced your head so she could continue to style your hair, inevitably exchanging looks with her through the mirror.

"Y/N," she insisted once more.

"It's not like that."

"If you say so," she said although it was clear she wasn't believing you. "I'm just trying to warn you. These guys are no good news."

"You say this because of Chan."

"I'm not," she argued.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her feelings were only getting the best of her. In a way, you were glad she was trying her best to protect you. At the same time, you'd seen no sign as to why you should be wary of Jisung. So far, he was someone sincere and honest, someone you really could rely on. It was hard for you to even think of the possibility of him hurting you.

"What if I like him?" you questioned.

She pondered for a second, visibly troubled by your question, but she answered. "Then I'll be very sad for you."

The remainder of time before the party was a bit awkward. You silently agreed to not speak on the matter anymore, so it was mostly small talk about what kind of products she was using to make your skin glow. It was hard to deny, she had the trick in terms of getting ready for events.

After bickering for a while about what you were to wear, you settled on a casual shirt with jeans while she chose a skirt for herself. You weren't planning on staying there for that long, anyway.

"Bye, my love," you cooed at your rabbit, earning a heavy sigh from your friend. "Hey! Let me love my bunny!"

"Alright, alright," she rolled her eyes. "Come on, now. We don't want to be late."

Soohee was the kind of girl who'd get anything from her parents as long as she kept her grades up. She was an excellent student, meaning she had literally everything she'd ask for. One of them was to have her own house near campus. Yes, her parents were that rich.

So no need to say how stunned you were when you arrived in front of the literal mansion. The music playing inside could already be heard from where you were and you spotted many students walking in and out of the place. This was worth to be in a movie. Funny enough, it was a movie. You began to wonder if this party would occur in the actual film. Probably not, since Jisung wasn't the type of person to go out.

"You're looking gorgeous, ladies," you heard coming from your right.

You smiled at Seungmin before enveloping him into a hug. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Kim," you complimented.

"So," he let out after breaking away from your embrace. "This is what the big deal is about."

"Fancy, isn't it?" Mina said excitedly. "Let's go inside, I need a good drink."

Before you could say something, she was already heading towards the entrance. You and Seungmin couldn't do anything else but follow her. While you didn't feel at ease so much, you were happy to see a familiar face as soon as you walked in.

"Hyunjin?" you called him out.

The man had his arm wrapped around Soohee's shoulder when he spotted you. "Hey! Y/N, right?"

"That's me," you chuckled.

Soohee looked back and forth at the two of you. "You two know each other?"

Hyunjin shrugged. "A friend of a friend of a friend... We met each other a couple of times, nothing more," he explained, seemingly trying to reassure his partner. "Y/N, this is my girlfriend Soohee."

"I know, you're kind of a big name around here," you said to the girl.

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "Nice to meet you! Any friend of Hyunjin is welcomed here."

Mina nudged your arm, a sign she wasn't too fond of your newfound friend. Nonetheless, she greeted the girl happily as if they had been friends for years. She was a lot better than you in faking kindness.

"I'm glad to see you made it," Soohee said with a smile.

"I could not miss it for the world," Mina said through her teeth.

The couple left to greet more people coming in, leaving your trio together. Mina, who hadn't enjoyed this interaction, hurried herself to go get something to drink — you and Seungmin following her again. The counter had tons of sorts of drinks. Some had questionable colours but most looked tasty as hell. Assuming Mina knew what to take, you picked a cup of the same drink as hers. Seungmin went ahead with getting himself a beer from the cooler near the counter.

"That girl is so annoyingly nice, I hate it," Mina spat out in-between sips.

"Now, don't be so harsh on the girl. We're in her house after all," Seungmin tried to resonate her.

She shrugged. "Sure. Y/N, I'm going to the other room if you want to come with me."

"What other room?" you asked, confused.

"The room at the back is the biggest of the house where interesting stuff happen."

You looked at Seungmin for advice but he shrugged, letting you choose for the three of you. You ended up following her lead since she was the expert in social events like these. She was right, the room was so much bigger and organized as to make a few beer pong stations in the middle while couches were put against the wall for those who preferred sitting down. Mina didn't wait for you when she heard that a new game of beer pong was starting and she rushed to say she and you would play.

"Oh, great," you mumbled to yourself but Seungmin heard you as clear as day.

"Go have fun," he chuckled but received a glare from you.

"Seungmin, want to join our team?" Mina yelled out at him, causing him to sigh.

"Come on, let's go have fun," you copied him teasingly and it was his turn to glare at you.

You took his hand despite his protests and joined Mina at the table. She was already setting the cups ready for the game and you lost no time in giving her a hand.

"Oh, Y/N?" you heard a familiar voice say.

Looking up, you were pleasantly surprised to see Changbin grinning at you. "Hey, Bin."

At the sight of the man, Mina's eyes went wide open. "Fuck, don't tell me..."

The worst she was expecting happened when Chan joined his friend's side. He looked as troubled by Mina's presence as she was by his. You felt like you shouldn't be there, their staring contest was a bit much for you.

"Do you still want to play?" you asked her in a worried voice.

"Why wouldn't I want to play anymore?" Mina acted as if nothing was wrong.

Chan let out a chuckle. "Alright, if you say so."

"You don't believe me, Christopher?"

His jaw clenched but he remained calm. "I didn't say the opposite."

"You're missing a player," Seungmin pointed out.

"Are we?" Changbin cheekily said.

Almost on cue, another man joined the lot as he placed himself next to Chan. As soon as he saw you, Jisung froze. While he didn't want to come to this party originally, he certainly did not expect you to be there. Even less dressed up like you were. That shirt of yours exposed so much of your skin and curves, he could feel the sweat on his forehead.

"My bad," Seungmin said upon seeing Jisung.

Your gaze lingered on him for longer than it should. While it was the others' turn to play, the two of you were exchanging a few looks with each other. It was either funny faces or one of you mouthing something the other couldn't understand. At one point, you were growing frustrated to no be able to decipher what he was trying to tell you. He chuckled as he saw the frown form on your face.

"Cute," he mouthed but you were still clueless.

"Uh?"

Yeah, he gave up. You were not the best at lip-reading, it wasn't your fault. Instead of repeating himself like he had done for a while now, he winked at you. That was new. Not knowing how to react, your face went red as you attempted to look at anywhere but him. He grinned at himself, satisfied by your reaction. You were too adorable, he hated it.

Your team ended up losing, much to Mina's disappointment. The girl had drank so much from the game only, you were growing worried about her physical state. Despite that, her fury against Chan was much stronger than a couple of drinks and she rushed after him once the game was over.

"I should follow her, right?" you said to Seungmin.

"Yeah, definitely," he affirmed which was all it took for you to go after her.

As you got closer, you reached out to grab her wrist but she broke free harshly. "Christopher Bang Chan!" she called out.

You winced in embarrassment, feeling bad for her. Chan immediately turned around, eyes growing bigger while Mina threw herself onto him. Luckily, he was quick to catch her.

"Hey, maybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?" he said softly to her but she was not listening.

"You're such an ass, embarrassing me all the fucking time," she claimed.

You felt a nudge on your arm and let out a sigh of relief when you saw Jisung by your side. You had been meaning to go see him once you made sure Mina was alright. Clearly, this was not how things were going.

"Maybe we should leave them some privacy," Jisung suggested.

"But Mina is obviously not okay," you argued.

"Chan is with her, it'll be fine."

He took your hand and, reluctantly, you agreed to follow him outside to get some fresh air. The night was just a little breezy, but it was perfect for this kind of social gathering. There was, unsurprisingly, an inground pool along with a jacuzzi and a few outdoor couches. A little fire was lit further away from the house where some guys you didn't know were conversing in laughs. You were glad to see that none of them had a drink nearby, meaning it wouldn't turn into a disaster.

Jisung led you to one of the couches and sat with you. You had not noticed until then but he brought you a drink along with his. You thanked him as he offered it to you and you sipped in silence while watching the other students mess around. Some couples were making out in front of everyone, groups of friend were dancing together, others were simply catching up... Somehow, it was calmer outside than what was happening in the house.

"I never thought I'd see you here," Jisung informed with a small laugh.

"I could say the same about you. What are you even doing here?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Soohee has some friends who work in an entertainment company. Chan thought it'd be a good idea to make some contacts within the industry so we can get somewhere with our stuff," he explained without much enthusiasm.

"I suppose things are still not taking off?"

He scoffed with a small smile. "We've been putting music out for a while. Shouldn't we at least have established a bit of a fanbase yet?"

"I'm a fan," you grinned widely.

"It's different, the real Y/N wouldn't like our stuff. Besides, you're my friend. That doesn't count."

You tried to ignore the hurt his comment caused to your heart. "What tells you she wouldn't have liked it? And, sure, I'm your friend but I'm honest. I would have told you if your music was trash."

He smiled thankfully but you still saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I really appreciate it. Still, you're too nice and you might just be trying to cheer me up right now."

"Fine, guilty," you sighed. "I am trying to cheer you up but I'm sincere. I love your music."

He let out a heavy breath before taking your hand, rubbing the top of it softly with his thumb. "Thank you."

"It's nothing, I'm being truthful," you said while raising your shoulders.

"What about you? Why did you come here?" he said, letting go of your hand to take another sip of his drink.

You tried to hide the fact you missed his touch already and cleared your throat. "Mina."

This was all the explanation he needed. "She would have been too suspicious of you if you didn't go to a party with her at some point."

"I know, that makes me want to go home even more honestly."

He choked up on his drink at your statement. You panicked for a second, patting his back to make sure he was okay. Once his coughing stopped he looked at you right in the eye.

"That much?" he asked in an almost hurt voice.

You gibbered for a bit, unsure as to why he was reacting this way. "I mean, kind of? As much as I love it here, I do miss my family and my actual bed," you tried to joke but he didn't laugh with you.

"Minho's not working this Tuesday if you want to come at the library. We could do more digging into the books," he suggested.

"Oh, sure. Actually, that'd be perfect. Thank you, Ji."

Your smile pained him even more. Of course, he couldn't blame you for wanting to go back home, he would have felt the same. However, there was something about you he became addictive of. Whether it was your being, your presence, your ability to make him feel comfortable so easily... All of it became something he couldn't imagine losing. There was something else within you, a spark. The last time he saw one like it was with his mother.

"Hey," you called for him. "Are you okay?"

Remembering where he was, he gulped and got up. "Sorry, I have to go."

And just like that, he went back inside without a word. You watched him, confused, until his shadow disappeared among the other figures around him. You wanted to follow him but not knowing what had caused him to leave so abruptly held you off. Was he mad at you? And what for? You couldn't bear with imagining you had caused him pain. Hesitantly, you got up and walked towards the back door. Only, you never reached the back door.

"Ouch!" you yelled out when your body collided with a frame bigger than your own.

"Oh my Gosh, Y/N, I'm so sorry," the person immediately apologized.

While you had technically never met him before, you recognized Jeongin from the pictures in your phone. "No, don't worry about it. I wasn't looking."

"But I kind of spilled my drink on you," he chuckled, embarrassed. "And you spilled yours too."

You looked at your empty cup and groaned in annoyance. "Great."

"Do you want my hoodie to cover the stain?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just give it back to me next time we see each other," he said with a bright smile. "Talking about that, I haven't seen you in a while."

You gratefully put his hoodie on and followed as he was walking back inside to get himself a new cup. "Yeah, I haven't been myself lately let's say."

"Beer? Punch? Sangria?" he asked while pointing at the different beverages.

"Sangria," you picked out and he gave it to you before picking one for himself.

"Yeah, Mina told me you had an amnesia episode or something?"

"Or something... I'm better now, though. Well, I think so."

He let out a laugh. "You do seem good. I assume you remembered me since you didn't look so confused when I went on about not having seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I do. It's a bit blurry but it's coming back to me slowly."

"Good, I'm glad. Did you go to a doctor to check it out?"

Oh. That was suspicious, wasn't it? Claiming to have amnesia without getting a professional to take a look at it. Your heart began to race as anxiety spread through your body. What if Jeongin was to uncover your act? What would happen then?

"I brought her to one the first day."

You thanked whoever who had brought Jisung near to save you. You wouldn't be able to explain how relieved you felt at this moment.

"Oh, that's good," Jeongin nodded. "Jisung, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Do you mind if I steal her from you?"

He sent the both of you a knowing look and didn't protest before walking away to elsewhere. As Jisung watched him leave, he sighed as he was about to nag you for not being careful. However, as soon as his focus was back on you, he froze in place when you dropped into his arms. It wasn't too noticeable but he could feel your body shaking.

"Thank fucking God, you were there," you breathed out. "I thought you were mad and I was going to look for you but I bumped into him and then I-"

"Hey," he stopped you. "I'm not mad at you, you don't have to explain anything to me." He pulled away from you but still had a grip on your shoulders. "How about we stick together for tonight?"

You nodded in agreement which he responded with his boxy smile. For a second — although it felt like minutes —, you couldn't see anything else but him. There was no way to describe how you felt around him. It was a mix of safety, happiness, comfort, nervosity, etc. All of these feelings, and more, altogether.

"You're pretty," you unconsciously let yourself slip out.

Jisung's cheeks had a faint pink colour to them but it didn't seem to bother him. "I think you're the pretty one between us," he corrected.

You shook your head and got closer to his face to inspect his features. "You're prettier," you affirmed once you analyzed his face.

He let a nervous laugh out. "Y/N..." he began, but didn't seem to find it in him to finish his sentence.

Your being brought him into a whole other world. If this was travelling universes, he'd want to do it all the time. This world only had you and him in it. Curiously, he was content with that idea. Somewhere where it could only be the two of you.

"Kiss me."

His brain short-circuited. A second ago, his mind was elsewhere, and now, you brought him back to reality in an instant. However, he still wasn't able to acknowledge people surrounding you. His sole focus was on the two words you said, and on your lips. Those pink lips he had always wished to kiss ever since that night when he saw you in his clothes. And you were demanding him to kiss you. Why couldn't he do it?

"Whoo!"

The loud scream coming from only a few meters away from you broke you out of your trance. Your gazes darted away from each other to find Minho, who was very much drunk, proudly showing his empty can to a group of girls after doing a shotgun.

The two of you, still holding onto each other, opted to go back to the main room in order to diffuse the weird tension between you. The sight you stumbled upon certainly was not what you thought of seeing any time soon. Chan was grabbing Mina by the waist, keeping her body close to his, as they kissed hungrily in the corner of the room. Near them was an annoyed Changbin, doing everything he could to avoid looking at the couple. The moment he spotted the two of you, he waved at you to come and join him.

"What's this about?" you asked, motioning towards your friends.

"Long story short, they left for a while and came back like this."

"Who would have thought she'd get laid with Chan?" you huffed.

Changbin glared at you. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Y/N."

Well, Changbin was being pretty sensitive tonight. It might have been the alcohol or the dislike he had for Mina. Anyhow, this looked pretty funny to you.

"The party's here, I see," Felix exclaimed as he joined you, bringing his arms around you and Jisung. "How are you, guys?"

"Tired," Changbin replied grumpily.

Hyunjin, Soohee, and Minho, who had all been following Felix, came to sit on the couch next to you. You had just then realized Seungmin was nowhere to be found, which was odd considering he wouldn't have been the kind to wander around too much.

"Soohee," Changbin called for the girl who broke her kiss with Hyunjin to look at him. "Did they say anything to you?"

You assumed he was referring to these friends of hers who worked in the music industry. Soohee clapped her hands together in response, a wide smile spread on her face.

"They've got a spot this summer for new producers and they told me they'll slide a word to their boss to give you the position," she squealed excitedly.

"You're kidding," Jisung said blankly, not believing her.

"I'm not!" she affirmed.

Jisung heard her right. Still, he couldn't fully process what she said. He had the chance to actually make a career out of his hobby. This felt so unreal, his face remained hard as stone, unable to express what he was feeling. Quite frankly, he didn't know what he was feeling himself. While the others around him were cheering happily about the excellent news, everything was a blur for him. Even if he couldn't be any happier, this also meant things were getting serious. Was he ready for this? He was still so young, maybe this was happening fast.

"Ji?" you said to him softly, noticing that he wasn't quite there.

"Uh?" he said while blinking slowly.

"You good?"

He swallowed and then stared back at you. "It's all a tad overwhelming," he admitted.

You gave him a reassuring smile before taking his hand. "How about we celebrate for now and worry about the rest later?"

This did the trick to bring him back fully from his thoughts and he finally allowed himself to cheer with the others. The first thing he did was bring your body into an embrace, holding you close. So close, you could feel his breath grazing the top of your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Guys," Soohee said loudly enough to grab everyone's attention. "I have to precise, there is no certainty you'd be taken. But if you are, then don't mess it up. You've got one chance, and only one."

"Having the position or not, this is the furthest we've gotten so far," Chan answered. "Either way, this is accomplishment."

"I say we drink to this!"

You widened your eyes when you saw Seungmin leaning onto Jeongin as the both of them walked towards you. This was definitely not how you imagined Seungmin be by the end of the night. He was the last person who'd get drunk like this. However, nobody seemed to care and they all agreed to get themselves more alcohol for the occasion.

Meh, at this point, nothing was keeping you from having fun. Besides, Jisung was there. There was nothing to be worried about, as long as he was around to keep you safe.

You didn't know how long you had been drinking and dancing with Mina when you felt yourself getting dizzy. You tried to shake yourself out of your drunken state but there was no use, you had consumed more than needed. Although Mina wanted for you to keep partying with her, you had enough sanity to decline and make your way back to the couches.

The faint view you had in front of you was of a concerned Jisung discussing with Minho. As soon as his eyes laid on your clumsy self, he lost no time in holding onto you to keep yourself from tripping.

"Hey, there," he said softly before guiding you to sit down. "How about you take a little water break?"

You pfft at him. "Who needs water? It tastes like shit."

"I'm not giving you a choice."

Before you could argue, Minho — who you hadn't noticed had left — held a bottle in front of you. Jisung gave him a thankful nod as he took it from him and opened it for you. One would say you were acting like a child as he was trying to get you to drink. Your whines and uncoherent babbles were both concerning and cute to him. The pink that had appeared on your cheeks didn't help.

"It's near 3:00 A.M." he informed to nobody in particular.

"Wow, so early!" you exclaimed.

"You're right, I think it's time we get you home."

You frowned. "Get me home? You found a way to get me home?"

He shut his eyes close for a second. "Not like that, your other home."

You pouted. "But I miss my bed."

"I know you do. Now, can you be quieter? There are people around," he whispered in your ear which tickled it.

"Ji," you giggled and he sighed in exasperation.

"Chan, Changbin," he said to his friends who were standing next to you both. "I think we should leave."

"Finally!" Changbin said with a groan. "I'll get our stuff."

"And I'll get Mina," Chan said before wincing at the sight of his lover.

The girl had found her way to a table where she had let her body fall onto. Her face was inches away from a beer someone had left behind and you could see in her eyes how she was debating internally whether she should take it or not.

The boys had no problem with taking the both of you in Changbin's car and driving back to their place. Although the two other men argued on getting you to your apartment, Changbin just wanted to go back in the comfort of his room. Not that he didn't have fun that night but he was tired as hell. As he was the designated driver, his friends didn't protest any more and they drove home.

"Are you okay with her?" Chan asked Jisung in a concerned voice as they both helped you and Mina get inside.

"Take care of her, don't worry about us. I'll just help her get in bed," he assured and Chan gave him a nod before disappearing in his own room with Mina.

You were left in his care as Changbin had no worry other than going to sleep. You weren't heavy which made the task so much easier for Jisung. Even if you were still mumbling things he couldn't understand fully, you seemed much relaxed than back at Soohee's which he took as a good sign. He carefully laid you down on his bed, making sure he placed your head properly on the pillow.

"Jisung," you mumbled.

He instantly stopped moving you around and crouched to face you. "What is it? Do you need anything?"

"What if I can't get home?"

His heart stopped for a second. He knew you had worries because you still hadn't found a way to travel back to your world but he hadn't noticed how much it actually was affecting you. He was foolishly too focused on spending time with you to notice that. It was time he showed you what he found, he thought. He couldn't be this selfish any longer, it was hurting you.

"You'll find a way, I'm sure of it."

Of course, he was. He had already found it. He was just not ready to see you go yet. Yeah, he shouldn't have gotten so attached to you. But can you blame him? You were so warm and caring to him, it didn't take long for him to like you.

"I'm not so sure, myself," you began to cry and it broke his heart.

"Don't cry, it'll happen," he shushed you softly, rubbing your shoulder.

Without thinking (well, you weren't thinking at all under the influence of alcohol), you took his arm and pulled him closer clumsily. You somehow managed to get him on the mattress and you snuggled into his chest. You could tell he didn't know how to react but you couldn't care less. You were sobbing and in need of his warmth.

"Y/N," he said in a whisper.

"The thing is, I don't even know if I want to go back anymore," you continued to cry.

He was confused about your statement. "What do you mean?"

The rubs he was giving you on your back gave you goosebumps, you didn't know if you had the energy to keep yourself from spilling anything you'd regret the next day. "I mean that I like being here with you."

His breath increased. "I am fun to be around," he joked as to ignore what he knew you were insinuating.

"As in I like you."

Here, you said it. Fatigue mixed with drinking hadn't been of help with keeping this to yourself. Heck, you didn't even admit it to yourself and here you were declaring your crush on a fictional boy. This was ridiculous. However, your sober mind was not present. You would have to worry about that later.

In the meantime, Jisung couldn't find the words to respond to this. This was what he had hoped for in a while, you feeling the same towards him. Still, he knew as much as you that this couldn't happen. But fuck, he couldn't fake it any more. Not only that but he had also drank his fair share, he wasn't fully aware of himself either. That's why he wasn't able to stop himself from speaking his mind.

"I think I like you too."

Six simple words. And yet, that was all it took for something to snap in your head. Moving to be face to face with him, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt and crashed your lips on his. He was quick to match your movements and pace making your lips move in total sync. Even if this was wrong on so many levels, there wasn't anything that felt as right as this. It was almost like you were meant to be together like this.

Jisung swiftly pushed you to be on your back while he positioned himself on top of you, giving him better access to pepper your face with small pecks. As one of his hands stood next to your head to steady himself, the other had no problem exploring your curves, moving up and down from your waist to your hips. A few squeezes here and there, and you were gasping. You wanted more. Your fingers found their way underneath his shirt and you couldn't stop yourself from touching the skin of his abdomen. Fuck, since when was he so toned?

You felt him shiver under your touch and he growled before attacking your neck, sucking on your skin. You gasped and a moan escaped your mouth. This was definitely going to be visible tomorrow.

"Make that sound again," he said in a raspy voice and it made your mind go crazy.

As he sucked once more, you moaned again and you could tell he was having the time of his life getting you to make these noises for him. In a hurry, you took the hem of his shirt and pulled it up needily. You felt his lips form a smirk against your skin. In the time of a blink, he helped you remove his shirt which now left him totally exposed to you. Your eyes widened at the sight. You didn't know he had been working out, his proportions were insane. From his tiny waist to his prominent pecs to his massive arms; he was perfect.

It didn't take long for him to get your shirt off as well. What he hadn't expected was the lack of bra. He immediately became bright red from seeing your breast on full display in front of him. Although this was a view that took his breath away, it switched something in his mind. He suddenly realized what was happening, as if he was sobering up all of the sudden.

"Y/N," he said again, his voice now shaky. "I can't do this."

You frowned. "What? Why not?"

"We're both drunk, I can't possibly take advantage of you like this."

Before he could hear your complaints, he got off of you and back on his feet next to the bed. Carefully, he brought the covers over your body and tucked you in. While you were still pouting, something about him caring that much about your well-being made your stomach flip upside down. He placed a kiss on top of your head and was about to leave the room. Only, you didn't let him.

Grabbing his finger, you looked up at him. "Stay."

And to that, he couldn't say no. So he stayed.

You would have been much better if you hadn't woken up half-naked in Jisung's bed the next day. While you thought you were in the comfort of your dorm with Mina, the scent of Jisung was all over the covers, engulfing you in another type of comfort. In a way, you were glad it was in his home that you were. On the other hand, his shirtless body laying next to you sent you into panic mode real quick. You had no recalling on what happened after the whole gang began drinking like there was no tomorrow and, frankly, you wondered if you wanted to know what happened.

You sat straight up, pulling the blankets over your chest to cover your bare skin, but an intense headache suddenly hit you. You had forgotten how hangovers were this painful. No shit you weren't going out a lot. As you winced at the pain, a few images came back to you.

The first to hit was Jisung's lips on yours. You suddenly remembered how you had pulled him into a kiss after having cried in his arms in his room. It still wasn't clear why you were sad, but one thing was for sure: you fucked up big time.

Another image that hit you was Mina in a much worse state than yours. Chan had her in his arms while her face became so pale to the point it wasn't a skin colour anymore. Where was she even? Did she make it back home.

The final memory you got back was of you removing Jisung's shirt. Well, at least you knew who between the two of you had been needier than the other. You cursed at yourself, already regretting having allowed yourself to let go this much. This guy wasn't real, for fuck's sake. In no way could you even consider the option of having feelings for him.

Well, there wasn't any feelings, technically. It was only a bit of kissing and making out, nothing more.

"Good morning," a deep and raspy voice greeted you, making you almost jump out of bed.

Jisung stretched his arms out before yawning loudly. Once he opened his eyes fully, he was met with your panicked face. That automatically got him nervous and by the way you were shamefully covering yourself, he felt like nothing good was about to happen.

"Fuck," he cursed out in a whisper before rubbing his face with both hands.

"That's one word to describe it," you huffed shyly. "Do you remember what happened?"

He lifted his head up and perked an eyebrow. "Do you remember what happened?" When he saw you hesitate, he cursed again. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

"No, no," you immediately said. "I do remember most of it. Just, not in details, if that makes sense."

His shoulders relaxed but that didn't dismiss the worry spread on his face. "So, what now?"

"Good question."

You didn't dare looking at one another, you were both too ashamed for that. As you were trying to find the right thing to say next, a loud bang was heard from the kitchen. You determined the boys must have woken up after hearing Chan nag Changbin for being clumsy. You and Jisung exchanged an awkward chuckle but that was it. You still weren't able to say anything.

"What's up, guys! Woah," Chan coughed out when seeing your physical state and he closed the door right after. "Uh, so... I made breakfast if you're hungry."

"Thanks, we'll be out in a bit."

The footsteps faded away after a few seconds which was your cue you were back to the awkward moment with Jisung. He didn't seem any more comfortable than you and you began to question if he had any regrets. Obviously, you hated yourself for what occurred last night but you couldn't regret it. It was so passionate and intimate, you hadn't felt so much lust with someone in a long time.

Jisung was the first to finally move and he walked to his closet. Shamefully, you couldn't contain yourself from looking. His back was well-defined, he was like a sculpture. There was no way his body was this perfect.

"Here," he said before throwing a hoodie your way. "I figured mine would look better on you than Jeongin's."

He didn't let you say anything back and he was out the room the second later, lazily putting a shirt on as he walked to the kitchen. You were left dumbfounded as you stared at the piece of clothing in your hands. There was a hint of teasing and jealousy in his voice, you kind of liked it. It wasn't possible for you that he had noticed Jeongin's shirt so much that he'd mention it to you. It was one way to know he might have feelings similar to yours.

After shaking your mind off these thoughts, you threw the hoodie on and went to join the boys to go eat. As soon as you stepped inside the kitchen, your gaze found Mina's. She looked much better than last night, having found her colours a little. She waved at you happily before taking another bite of her toast.

"I didn't remember you coming here with us," you commented as you sat next to Jisung (which was oddly the last free seat).

"To be honest, I don't remember a thing," she laughed. "But I do know Chan and I made up so that is what matters." She leaned to kiss him and then smiled even more. "I heard the two of you had an exciting night."

Jisung choked on his juice, coughing loudly. You chuckled a little but that didn't prevent you from blushing either.

"I'm guessing Hannie finally made a move," Changbin teased his younger friend with a nudge.

"I'd be more prone to think Y/N did," Chan added.

Your face grew redder by the second. "Can we not talk about it?"

This seemed to do the job and the others kept their mouths shut for the rest of the breakfast, only discussing about Mina and Chan's reunion. While you tried your best to take part in the conversation, your shoulder barely touching Jisung's distracted you too much. Weird, no? Only a few hours earlier, you had no shame touching him but here you were, terrified by his mere presence.

"I'll walk you home," Jisung announced once you were both back in his room.

"I can walk by myself just fine, thank you," you turned him down as you grabbed the shirt you were wearing last night along with Jeongin's hoodie.

"I'm not offering," he insisted. "I need to make sure you get there safely."

"Mina and I will walk together," you insisted back, not understanding why he was being so stubborn.

This time, he admitted defeat and dropped himself on his bed. "Text me when you get home, at least?"

"I will."

It reassured him a bit as he smiled shyly. "I'll text you for Tuesday, also."

Oh, right, Tuesday. You almost forgot about it. With a small nod, you left his room and joined Mina at the front door. She and Chan exchanged knowing looks but you ignored them. Waving bye to your friends, you both took off to get back home.

Tuesday came sooner than you had wanted to. Jisung barely texted you, only a few times to let you know where he was at with his research. Other than that, the few past days had mostly consisted of you ranting about your complicated relationship to Seungmin. The poor guy hadn't asked for anything and here he was, forced to listen to your problems. He actually did not mind, he was simply not very expressive when it came to gossiping.

"Are you sure you don't have more files to work on?" you asked him once again.

He deadpanned at you. "Stop this, you're going to go there and face him."

You whined. "I don't want to."

"You have to."

"Can't you come with me?"

"No!"

You huffed in annoyance. "Are you really my friend?"

He rolled his eyes at your question. "You're being so dramatic. What is even the problem? You like him, he likes you; it should be easy."

You bit your lower lip down. "It's more complicated than that."

"Is it?"

It was no use trying to explain to him, that would involve outing you out and you couldn't risk it. So, you sucked your sappy self up and left the office, earning you a "there you go" from Seungmin. You were supposed to meet with Jisung an hour ago but you were too much of a scaredy cat to actually get to the library and you worked some more to buy yourself time. But Seungmin was right, you couldn't put it off any longer.

You were almost shaking when you found yourself in front of the library's door. From outside, you could see him through the window. He was doing nothing more than sorting books and scanning a couple of them but the sight of him was all you needed to make your heart beat ten times faster. Taking a deep breath in, you repeated to yourself this was no big deal. You were coming to see a friend, nothing more. You finally pushed the door open and walked to the front desk. As he had told you, Minho was nowhere in sight. His back was still facing you, meaning he hadn't noticed you yet.

"Just a moment and I'm all yours," he spoke as he finished up his task.

This was a simple phrase of politeness. And yet, the idea of him being yours briefly passed through your eyes. No, this was getting out of hand. You had to stop this behaviour.

As soon as he turned around, his mouth's shape changed into an "o". "I thought you bailed on me."

You scratched the side of your arm in shame. "I had extra work to do at the office."

"No, it's all good. I just thought-" he was about to say but paused before shaking his head. "Never mind. There aren't many students today so we should be fine in terms of discretion."

You nodded as you watched him walk around the counter. Did he really have to look that good in his red shirt? He seemed to have put much more effort in his appearance than usual. Nevertheless, this was not the time to check him out. You followed his steps towards a section in the back, one you hadn't explored yet. You were quite perplexed when he stopped in front of the fairy tale section and scrunched his nose while scanning through the books.

"Fairy tales?" you scoffed. "You must be joking."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled out one book. "Let me show you first."

"Well, sorry but this is not very promising."

He sent one more glare your way and began to flip the pages. "Don't be mad, I actually found this a while ago. I was afraid you-" he restrained himself from speaking again. "That you'd judge it because it is a fairy tale."

This was not what he wanted to say originally, you could easily tell but the way he cleared his throat. Even though you wanted to insist for him to spill it, he didn't let you by shoving a page in your face. You scrutinized the words attentively as you took the book from him. It might have been a fairy tale, a work of fiction, but the story was almost identical to how you arrived in this world.

Once upon a time, a princess lived in a castle. The girl loved her castle more than you could imagine. She was living a happy life on her own with the company of the animals of the forest. Some were big, some were small, but all loved the princess very much.

One day, the princess was reading a book like she would do every night before going to bed. The only difference was how marveled she was by its story. It told the journey of a boy living in the country, trying his best to live by his late mother's wishes despite not being very wealthy. Something about this boy moved her, she felt for him.

As she was about to go back to her chambers, one missed step on the stairs caused her to lose balance. In the snap of a finger, she tripped. Only, she never really fell. Once she opened her eyes, she was in a place she had never visited before. She was in a quaint little farm where a dozen of hens were greeting her with their clucks. Confused she was but these thoughts vanished when her gaze fell on a boy. She immediately knew who he was.

"How is this relevant?" you groaned, not understanding how he even thought this was anything close to what you had experienced.

"She tripped and found a boy, just like you," he pointed out. "You can skip to the last page, that's where it shows how she came back to her palace."

The boy invited the princess for dinner. It was not much, but it was all he could afford for her. He had cooked all of the dishes by himself, something he was quite proud of. He was hoping he would be proposing to the girl. Tonight was supposed to be the most gorgeous eclipse of their era, according to the village's sorcerer. He would not miss the opportunity to make the most of it.

When the princess arrived in the backyard of his home, her heart melted at how beautiful the boy had arranged the place. It was so simple but it felt like home. A blanket had been laid next to his family's tree and, on top, he had placed the food along with the best beverage he was capable of buying.

The night was perfect. The princess had fallen in love with this place, never wanting to leave. Especially not when she had just realized how fond she had grown of her new friend. Dare to say, she was smitten. As they were watching the last seconds of the eclipse, the boy gathered all of his courage and pulled the princess closer to him. With the shadow over them, they shared their very first kiss.

What they did not know was how this would also be their last. Slowly, the girl's figure began to fade away, vanishing into thin air. The panic on the boy's face was one she had never seen before, one of great pain. She was devasted, so was he. She then understood this was her time to come home. As she forced a smile through her tears, she mumbled the only phrase she had meant to tell him all along.

You shut the book closed, not wanting to read the rest. "Really? A stupid little story is the answer to my problem?"

Jisung almost shivered from how cold your tone was. He had never meant for you to think he wasn't taking you seriously, of course he was. In a way, he did understand why it seemed idiotic of him to show you this. But he knew this was your last hope. Everything you'd tried so far was a great failure. And since the moment you told him how homesick you were at the party, he now wanted nothing more but to make you happy. Even if it meant losing you.

"She was reading a book, you were watching a movie. She tripped, you tripped. She found a boy, you found me," he went on to explain. "And, if I'm not wrong, you fell in love with me like she did."

Your breath cut short. Was it so obvious? You did everything in your power to not let it show, even more to not let it happen. Apparently, love did not work like this and couldn't be helped. This whole thing was shitty, falling in love with someone you could never be with.

"You're wrong," you mumbled. "I care about you a lot, but I wouldn't call this love," you lied — apart when you said you cared about him.

He huffed. "What would you call what happened the other night, then? Because, for me, it looked a lot like it was a confession of your feelings. Unless you'd been leading me on."

It was your turn to huff. "You think I would stoop so low as to do something like this to you?"

"If it isn't because you love me, I don't know what it is."

Unexpectedly, heavy footsteps came your way, You both turned around to see Minho walking to you, red in his eyes. You glared at Jisung since you thought Minho wasn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"If you're to argue about your little love life, can you do it outside? I can hear you from the entrance."

"I thought you weren't working today," Jisung said with a frown, ignoring what his friend had complained about.

"I don't work tomorrow, I'm taking over for the evening today."

Shit, Jisung didn't look at the work sheet properly. Despite your dark eyes still on him, he grabbed your wrist and led you outside, apologizing quickly to Minho as you walked past him. You tried to break away but he was stronger than you were, leaving you no choice but to follow him. He ignored the beeping sound caused by the book you were still holding as you hadn't officially rented it. Once out of the library, he did not stop there. Instead, he continued to walk away leaving you as clueless as ever.

Finally, you began to piece things together when you saw where he was heading to. It didn't take you more than a minute or so to reach the football field, exactly where you had started bonding only two months ago.

"Okay, can you explain to me now?" he sighed, crossing his arms on his chest.

You massaged your wrist. "First off, ouch." He only rolled his eyes which kind of hurt you somehow. "Second off, there is nothing to explain."

"Almost sleeping together after you told me you like me isn't nothing," he persisted.

"Why does it matter?" you groaned, getting annoyed. "I'm to go back to my world, it wouldn't change anything."

"For me, it would."

"Why?"

He grunted in frustration before grabbing you by the shoulders, visibly not in control of his actions anymore. "Because I love you."

You stared at him in silence, mouth agape. You couldn't comprehend fully what he said. He couldn't possibly love you. And if he really did, this entire thing had taken a whole new turn you weren't sure you could handle.

"What?" you whispered, not finding the strength in you to speak loud enough.

"I love you," he repeated, loosening his grip on you. "I've never been the best in terms of opening up and all. But with you? This has never been so easy. There is something about you, a spark. It feels homey and safe. I find extreme comfort and reassurance just by your presence. Not only that, you understand me on so many levels, I wonder if you know me better than myself at times.

"And at the party... Fuck, Y/N, it was like you got me under a spell. I always needed to have an eye on you or I thought of suffocating. Then, when we were in my room, it broke my heart when you began saying you were afraid to never be able to leave."

You almost wanted to thank him for not referring again to the physical part of the whole thing, how you had almost given yourself to him. Despite that, this whole-hearted confession of his was no longer only about mere feelings he had. He actually loved you.

"I'm sorry," you mustered the energy to say.

What were you apologizing for? Even you didn't know. For letting him love you this much, probably. You were dying to tell him you felt the same but in no way was this how things were supposed to be. Loving each other was only going to cause you great pain.

"Tell me you felt something too, please," he pleaded, eyes watery.

You could feel the lump in your throat grow when you shook your head, refusing to tell him what he wanted to hear. That was what made him let go of you as he took a few steps back. You hurt him.

"I'm sorry for reading into things that weren't there," he pettily scoffed. "Read the rest," he motioned the book. "There's an eclipse this Saturday just so you know. Find a way to get back, but don't count on me helping you in this madness anymore."

He turned on his heels and walked off in a hurry pace, obviously wanting to get as far from you as possible. You wanted to call him out, cry, scream, anything. But nothing. Your body was limp and wasn't letting you express what you were feeling. Instead, you dropped on the bench next to you with the book on your thighs.

You opened it back to read the end. Just like you had anticipated, this was only heartbreaking to come to the conclusion neither characters saw each other again. This was what you wanted to avoid, live with an void in your heart because you fell in love with the protagonist.

You did everything to prevent it. But you failed.

Saturday was dangerously coming fast and your stubborn self was refusing to reach out to Jisung. He told you to find a solution on your own, that was what you had been doing. Nevertheless, the only remaining option was him. He had to be there.

You ended up telling the truth to Mina the night after your argument. It was inevitable, your emotionless stare outed you right away the moment she saw you. You couldn't hide it from her anymore. She took it better than you thought. Not only that, you also told her about the whole movie thing. She had been nothing but supportive, not even a bit bothered that she was fictional.

"Fictional or not, what I feel is real and that's what matters," she had answered when you asked why she remained this calm.

She was a bit of a replacement for Jisung, she was fully aware of that. But when it came to trying to get you home, she insisted the fairy tale wasn't just an odd coincidence. And that was why you were staring at your phone with nothing but fear.

"If you don't tell him to meet you at the park tonight, I will," Mina threatened, growing impatient as it had been almost ten minutes since you agreed to invite Jisung.

"He'll think I'm just using him to get home," you argued.

"I guess you are, but he won't care about that. If he loves you, it'll be stronger than his free will to come to your help."

You bit on your lip and finally picked the phone up. Opening your chat with Jisung, your fingers lingered above the keyboard. You knew what to say. The issue was how were you going to word it. After one last glance at Mina, you took a deep breath and began to type.

Y/N: Hey. How have you been?

No, this sounded too weird. It was obvious he hadn't been well, it'd be stupid to start the message like this.

Y/N: Hey! I know I haven't been exactly the greatest friend to you. You are right, I keep leading you on when I fully know that what we have can't even happen. It doesn't change the fact that I never wanted to hurt you intentionally and I am so sorry for the trouble I've caused. If you are still willing to forgive me, and maybe help me, meet me at 4 at the park where we met. There are many things I still need to tell you. I hope to see you there.

Sent. And now all you had left to do was wait. Mina hugged you tight as soon as you let go of the phone. You could tell she was proud, it felt nice to know she cared this much for you.

"If he does show up, does it mean I won't see you again?" Mina asked while still hugging you.

"Most likely, yes," you breathed out. "You'll have your Y/N back."

She chuckled. "She's not like you. Sure, I miss her, but it would have been better if having the two of you was an option."

It was your turn to laugh and you pulled away from the hug. "I promise I won't tell a soul about this," she affirmed.

You smiled gratefully. "Do you mind doing me one last favour?"

"Anything," she didn't hesitate to respond.

"One last makeover?"

The grin was all the answer you needed. You spend the afternoon doing some self-care activities while exchanging and laughing. She asked you some more about your own world and you answered. You hated to admit so but you were going to miss her. You never had one close friend in particular, it was always people scattered a bit everywhere without being so close to them. It was probably a sign you needed to bond more with your own friends.

That was if Jisung showed up. There was no telling when the next eclipse would happen so the option of staying here for much longer stayed in your mind vividly.

4 o'clock was approaching and Mina was still debating whether you should go for a dress or a jumpsuit. You let her have her fun when you heard the notification sound coming from your phone. You immediately rushed to see if Jisung had replied but you were left disappointed when you saw it was only a promotional text from some random company. Your message, however, had been read. But no reply.

Mina said nothing from seeing your sad face, but she came to show you the dress she chose. You were still amazed at how she always found the perfect combination for an outfit.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered but you shook your head.

"I'll be fine, but thank you."

She let you get changed and once you did so, the two of you sat in silence in your shared dining room. You were intensely staring at the clock and it was killing you how time seemed to pass by so slowly. Eventually, ten minutes before 4 o'clock came and it was time to head out.

Mina couldn't help herself but cry as she hugged you close to her. "Don't forget me, yeah?"

"I could never," you reassured. "And don't forget, the other Y/N is still me in a way. You haven't lost me completely."

She sniffled as she let go of your body. "Good luck with your man."

You gave her one last warm smile and you walked out the door. You sighed heavily as you walked down the stairs. This was already a day full of emotions, you weren't sure if you were ready for what would happen next. Either you'd be heartbroken Jisung didn't come or you'd have to leave him forever after finally telling him how you truly felt.

The walk to the park was quick and you were about a minute early. You walked to one of the swings and sat there, slowly swinging your body back and forth. You were glad the weather wasn't too cold since the dress wasn't exactly the warmest thing you could have worn.

Minutes passed, maybe even an hour. There was still no sign of Jisung. You began to think it was a bad idea to ask him to meet where his mother had died but you assumed it being the spot where you appeared would be an important factor to get back to your world. Perhaps he simply didn't want to see you again. You did hurt him a lot, it would be understandable.

You weren't counting the minutes anymore when you concluded he wouldn't come. Jumping onto your feet, you were on the verge of walking back to Mina but you stopped on your tracks stiffly.

He was there.

You couldn't quite believe what you were seeing. With only a lamppost nearby to illuminate your surroundings, his face was glowing. There was obvious resentment in his face but you could tell he was not as pissed as the last time you'd seen him. He gradually approached you while you remained hard as stone, unable to move. It was a miracle you were even breathing, in all honesty.

"I guess I still help you in the end," he began, avoiding your gaze.

"I thought you wouldn't come," you said with relief and he sadly laughed.

"You could call this a payback from when you arrived an hour late."

You felt even more relieved he was feeling comfortable enough to still joke a bit. However, you couldn't take his presence for granted. There must have been a reason for him to show up despite the hurt you'd done.

"Can I sit with you?" he gestured towards the swings and you nodded.

"I don't know where to start," you nervously chuckled. "I guess I can start with apologizing."

"That'd be a good start."

You cleared your throat, feeling a tad uneasy with how bizarre the tension was. "I'm sorry for not being truthful. I wasn't honest with a lot of things, including my feelings for you."

He frowned as it clearly quirked his attention. "What didn't you tell me?"

Even if his voice was shaky, it still held so much softness, as to not put pressure on you. If this was his goal, it worked. There was no turning back now.

"I don't have the proper words to put it out easily but I'll try my best. Remember how I've told you I was watching TV when the shift happened?"

His breath hitched. "What about it?"

"It might have been a film about you."

He didn't panic or get mad. In fact, it was quite opposite. He looked relieved and happy. You searched in his face any sign of anger but there was none, which left you more confused.

"Jisung?"

He let out a breathy laugh. "I kind of figured it out, I was just wondering if I was going crazy with this theory or not."

"What- Since when?"

"I'm not sure. It's like I've always known. Same as when you told me you were from another dimension, it just made sense for some reason."

You huffed. "How come are you so chill with it?"

He looked at you as if you had asked the dumbest question. "I might be fictional where you are but, here, I'm pretty fucking real. If I'm not, then I can't explain how I have all of these complicated thoughts and emotions when it comes to you."

You could feel yourself swoon at his words. "I don't want to leave suddenly," you confessed but he shook his head.

He stood up and stopped in front of you to take yours hands and get you up as well. Face to face, you could feel him exhale on your forehead. It felt nice to have his body close to yours again, like you had longed for it without knowing.

"You know you have to go."

You finally looked up at him. "No, I can stay. I get along just fine with Mina and the amnesia lie seems to be convincing everyone."

"Y/N, you already struggled with lying to me. How can you handle putting a façade up for the rest of your life?"

You wanted to scream at him, tell him how wrong he was. Accuse him of how low he thought of you by saying this. The truth was he was right. You knew deep down your place was not here. But just one thing was stopping you.

"But I love you," you mumbled as tears began to fall on your cheeks.

Jisung was surprisingly very sereine and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. "There, you said it," he grinned victoriously.

You shoved him slightly. "Shut up."

He laughed again and damn was he pretty when he laughed. "That's all I wanted to hear, that you loved me too."

"If you love me, why should you let me go?"

He sighed as he rubbed your cheeks gently. He wasn't going to answer, you both knew it wasn't necessary. Nonetheless, it didn't mean it didn't hurt at all. It stabbed you like a knife. You had gotten so used to being around him. How were you going to deal in a world where he didn't exist?

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered even if his mouth had already had the time to get closer to yours.

It was all you needed to kiss him yourself, standing on your tippy toes to reach his level. It was just like you remembered it; sweet, tender, passionate. It was so addicting, you didn't want to imagine how breaking it would feel like. His hands let go of you to move on your hips before he pulled you even closer.

He didn't want to let go either.

You didn't notice he was crying as well until you reached your hand up to cup his cheek. It pained you more and more, and how you still were kissing him despite getting out of breath was a proof of it.

You both pull away eventually, even if it was clear as day both of you didn't want to. Jisung kept his forehead against yours and, without speaking a word, his gaze dove in yours. He wanted to remember your eyes, get one last good look at it. Because he knew what was already occurring right before his eyes.

"I'm leaving already, aren't I?" you cried out, as if you had read his mind.

"There's an eclipse, and I kissed you."

You nodded slowly and scanned your body. "It's a strange feeling."

He watched you slowly fading away and his heart clenched. "Think of me, please," he almost begged.

"Always," you smiled weakly. "I love you."

"I lo-"

And then nothing.

A loud music woke you up. Your eyes shot wide open as you gasped for air. Taking a look around you, you stood from the ground. Everything was exactly where it had been. The first thing you went to look for was your sweet rabbit. Her nose peeking from under the couch, she wasn't hard to miss.

"Hey, baby," you cooed as you picked her up. "For you, it's been a second, but I haven't seen your cute face in months!"

You carefully placed her back in her playpen. Once she was safe and sound, you finally allowed yourself to look at the screen. It was Jisung, having a blast at Soohee's party. You forced yourself to smile as you watched him hold tight onto a girl. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't finish this movie. Not any time soon, at least. Grabbing your remote, your turned the screen off and crashed on your couch.

It had been a while since you felt yourself relax. Still, the headache you had made you question if what you had experienced was a dream or not. You did wake up because of the music coming from the television. That meant it was very possible this was only a dream.

Either way, it was over now. You had gone back to your life and now you needed to call your workplace to inform them you would be coming in tomorrow in the end.

And tomorrow came as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary; work, eating, more work, and then back home again. It felt rather underwhelming after your journey with Jisung. Somehow, you couldn't get him out of your head, not even for a second to work correctly.

You were very much distracted. Too distracted. Frustrated, you let go of the soup you were slurping and walked to your room. Sitting down at your desk, you opened your laptop and began to look up Jisung's name. You hadn't even noted down the title of the movie, his name alone should do the job.

The moment you clicked on "enter", articles and websites flooded like a river. All of them about Han Jisung. It was him for real, with his actual name next to tons of pictures. So he wasn't fictional after all. Then, who the hell was he?

You scrolled down to find a recent article which mentioned the movie itself. Opening the link, you read it all so quickly. It said Jisung was, indeed, a young artist who had the chance to collaborate with many renowned producers to make a film about his struggles. His main purpose was to reach an audience who could relate to his pain and learn to get through struggles like he did.

You weren't sure what this was referring to since you technically didn't watch the film entirely. What caught your attention, however, was the final paragraph.

The singer has begun his promotion tour where he holds conferences concerning mental health in younger generations. He hopes to spread awareness as much as he can. To see him, his next seminar is to be held in Seoul the Thursday of next week.

You checked the date this article was published and thanked the universe that it was no older than a week. That meant the conference was tonight. You didn't know if it was a good idea but you still had so many questions about everything, you felt like getting the chance to speak to him might answer a few of them.

"Looks like I'll be spending $40 tonight," you groaned to yourself before opening the sign-up page to the event.

You were lucky it wasn't starting too early and that you still had two hours before it began. It was enough time for you to wash up, get changed and hop onto a bus that transported you all the way to the other side of the city.

One would call you crazy for going all the way in for this boy who probably had no idea you existed. But the memory of him was too fresh, it bothered you. You thought it'd help you to see him in person. That was not exactly how it went.

As the crowd settled comfortably on their seats, the host greeted the audience warmly. Needless to say, you were taken aback to see the man you grew to know as Chan on stage. This was surely the actor who played him.

"Hello, everyone," he waved with a bright smile. "My name is Bang Chan and I will be your presenter tonight."

Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder. First Jisung was a real person, but Chan as well?

"As you may know, I have contributed with the production of the movie Alien: I'm so lonely. The mastermind behind this work is my dear friend, Han Jisung. But you knew that, that's why you're here. I ask of you to be patient as him and I will discuss his journey on this project. Afterwards, you may ask your questions and Jisung with happily answer them. Please, welcome Han Jisung!"

The crowd applauded as he came on stage. He looked tinier and intimidated on this big stage in front of so many people. You were starting to question yourself if this was the same man you had in mind. But as soon as he flashed his smile, your heart skipped a beat. This was him. And visibly, these feelings were as strong as they were back in the movie's world.

"I'd like to think you all came here after enjoying my movie so I'd like to start with thanking you all for your support. It means a lot," he smiled before bowing.

The two men sat down and Chan was the one to initiate the discussion. "I had the pleasure to be part of your project but there are things that are still a mystery. The entire film is based on your own experience whether it is the loss of your mother, your struggle to make a name for yourself in the music industry as well as the mental struggles you had to face. However, there is one aspect that was never part of your actual life and it is the character of Y/N."

Your body stiffened. Had you heard him right? This had to be yet another disturbing coincidence, it wouldn't be logical otherwise. The real Jisung didn't know you.

"We're getting right away into your favourite part today, aren't we?" he chuckled uncomfortably. "I had a dream long ago. It consisted of my usual day-to-day life but this girl appeared out of nowhere. We went through everything together the way we did in the movie. It was only a dream but I woke up feeling empty. She wasn't real but she was present for me more than anyone."

"Are you saying you felt more connected to an imaginary friend than to your close ones?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "I came around the idea she was a fragment of myself that represented my strength. I'd like to think she really existed, but I can't drive myself crazy over that."

The rest of their discussion was nothing but a distant sound to you. Plenty of possibilities about what occurred were now open and, quite frankly, it was giving you a headache. You had never met Jisung in this world, but maybe his other self was still a part of him. That, or you visited his dream and not the movie.

The two men discussed some more details for another hour. After what felt like an eternity, the question period finally arrived. You had forgotten all pre-prepared interrogations you had by then. Despite that, you were determined to, at least, speak to him once. Nervously, you raised your hand while he was already responding to someone.

"So yeah, I'd say my mother was the main reason why I wanted to make this film," he concluded his answer with a nod.

Chan looked among the audience and it was almost like he recognized you. With a knowing grin, he pointed at you. "Miss with the red shirt."

The crew member walked to you to give you a microphone and it abruptly hit you how unprepared you were for this. You gulped as you shakingly brought the mic closer to your mouth.

"I had a question concerning this Y/N character."

Jisung, on his side, looked a mess the instant he heard your voice. He went closer to your side of the stage while squinting in order to take a better look at who was talking. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Go ahead," he finally said.

"When you said she appeared out of nowhere in your dream, what did you mean by that?"

And once and for all, he got a good glimpse of you. The actress who played you looked nothing like you. She was no match compared with your soft features. That was why she was the only character he struggled to cast — besides the fact half of the cast was his actual friends playing themselves.

"I-" he pondered for a moment. "You know what? Can you come see me after the conference? I feel like this is not something I can answer in the span of two minutes."

Surprised, you didn't let it show and nodded as you sat back down. What were the odds for him to want to talk to you one on one? Like he had requested to, you remained seated when Chan dismissed the audience.

It wasn't long after that a security member came to fetch you. He guided you all the way to a room backstage. Only from afar, you saw Jisung talk with Chan. He looked disturbed and worried. You started to think it wasn't a good timing to interrupt him. However, before you could have a say in it, the security guy pushed you inside and closed the door.

You looked at anywhere but them, rocking your body back and forth to hide the nervousness. There was a long silence before Chan sighed in a discouraged way. Without saying a thing, he walked past you and left the room.

It was only you and him.

"Is your name Y/N by any chance?" Jisung broke the ice making you look at him. His eyes were filled with hope.

"It is," you confirmed and his body immediately relaxed.

"I don't want to sound too creepy or whatever but..." he hesitated a little as he bit his upper lip. "I feel like I've seen you before."

Your breath cut short. He remembered.

"I might have a similar feeling towards you."

This made his unsure expression break into a smile, which then made you smile. It was like meeting a friend you hadn't seen in years, except you saw this same guy only hours ago. Heck, you were kissing him.

"Do you have time to go out for dinner with me?"

His question might have made you happier than you were supposed to be but you didn't care one bit, and it didn't look like he did either. After you shyly nodded a yes, he walked your way and drowned you in a hug. You didn't fight back.

"I think I forgot to tell you something," he mumbled softly against your ear.

"What is it?" you responded in the same tone.

"You left before I could finish; I love you."

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crguang · 4 days ago

Text

violinist kafka x her pianist accompaniment reader, courtesy of my 🎹 anon and @shalomniscient’s beautiful brain <3 we’ve been going crazy over this AU since i received the ask today.

R and kafka are childhood best friends who have been playing together since their respective instructors discovered their potential and made them work together on a piece, very much young prodigies in the making who do nothing but hone their skills with the dream of becoming the best in their field. one day, when they’re around 16 years old, R moves away. this bus ride is the last memory kafka holds of them together and she remembers it viscerally whenever she brings an especially complex composition to life, which eventually becomes the source of her recognition and success. this is a goodbye she only understands once she’s lost them.

607. i miss you.

You held her hand that early evening on the way to the bus stop on the corner street four minutes from the music academy; your pinky finger loosely looped with hers and in the chill of February, she could feel the rough material of your knitted glove against her own, the one gifted to you by an aunt she doesn’t remember the name of. Fingertips linked like an implicit promise, she spared you a questioning glance at the unusual gesture and you avoided her gaze, making a show of scrolling through a playlist on your MP3 player with your free hand. She thinks of it as holding hands now, because despite your palms not touching at the time, your bodies were connected through that fragile bridge between your fingers and your hands swayed in the air with your unhurried steps. Each of her exhales were made visible by the cold while you kept yours within the confines of the scarf around your neck, you always despised the drop in temperature. Even with the bottom half of your head hidden by the soft fabric, she could read the reservation on the lines of your face. You were keeping something in and it was obvious to her who had known you since that Wednesday you sat in her every-day rehearsal room, patiently waiting with her violin instructor and a faraway look in your eyes. Back then, it had been eight years. Perhaps that isn’t accurate, she has known you a total of eight years up to the present day. That is the only constant between you, whoever you are today she does not know.

Kafka chuckles lowly to herself, a self-deprecating sound. After all this time, she still needs this moment of reminiscence before she dares put the bow to her violin’s sacred strings. If this is what puts her in the state of mind necessary to perform this composition flawlessly, so be it. She inhales long and slow, then exhales quietly through her mouth. She raises her right hand and in one controlled motion, slides the bow over the first note of her instrument.

The 607 bus was half empty when you stepped on it first. You paid the bus fare and she followed you to the back after doing the same. You took the seat next to a window tainted with water streaks and silently took the violin case from her hands to lay part of it on your thigh, the other half rested on her leg the entire ride home, its small weight shared like the rest of your burdens. She took the earphone you handed her and pressed a little closer to you to see what you were showing her on your MP3. The bus started moving a second later.

“I don’t want something too loud this time,” you said, scrolling down the music app where you’d created playlists for each other a year prior.

“Lame.”

“You chose the playlist yesterday, you don’t get to complain. This one is nice.”

You pressed play on a slow song and lifted your head to meet her eyes expectantly as the first melodies reached her ear. She conceded with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. You smiled, a soft edge to it, and didn’t tear your gaze from hers for a moment that Kafka now wonders if it lasted seconds or minutes. You looked into her eyes, searching for something she didn’t have the guts to confess, and she looked back at you with the words on her lips. They were often there, sitting just past her lips like they’d fly out of her mouth the instant she opened it, but she found that they were anchored to her tongue and had no plan to leave the warmth of their comfort zone. Her eyebrows twitched in question for the second time that hour, an unsure smile on her face in response to your stare.

“What?”

Her attempt to glimpse into your mind broke the suspended moment. You shook your head somewhat ruefully.

“Nothing.”

You lowered your MP3 and followed the movement with your eyes, avoiding hers once again. She could see something brewing inside of you since that morning, guilt you couldn’t admit to her, maybe, but she didn’t push thinking you would speak up eventually. Instead, she playfully nudged your side with an elbow.

“Practice used up your last brain cells or what?”

“Ha, ha. Like you weren’t the one struggling to keep up with the tempo.”

“Try again, maybe the next lie will be more convincing.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot Kafka The Prodigy could never make a mistake, ever. I’m only the accompaniment, what would I know?”

“That’s more like it.”

You lifted your eyes to the sky, but the smile that replaced the weird one you were previously giving her was much more brilliant. You glanced at her, then turned your head to the window. An older couple were quietly chatting to themselves a few rows to the left in front of you, their heads leaning against each other, and she spent a minute looking at them while the next song played in your earphones. With the music, it was impossible to catch what one was saying to the other, but that didn’t matter. Their bodies were pressed together like yours with hers, as if huddling for warmth, and the woman was talking with her hands the way you would when you were passionate about a new album you just discovered. She didn’t notice it then, that she was looking for you in others even as you sat next to her. Her world was so small; you and music, music and you, and those hours where the two were one and the same.

To this day, you are the music she plays. Your harmonious smiles and dulcet voice, they are all within the melodies she borrows from other composers and in a sense, you are always on stage next to her during a performance. In the practice room, Kafka furrows her brows. She feels it mounting in her, that feeling that makes her great, akin to a pulsing heart ascending to her throat until it lodges itself between her vocal chords and she lets the violin speak for her. The climax approaches steadily, she knows that part like the back of her hand.

She lost interest in the talking couple. You were still looking outside the window at the swaying tree branches and passing cars, and she wondered what was so interesting out there that you couldn’t look at her. She watched your eyelids droop, though you stayed awake and kept staring at the world beyond the two of you. The song in her ear had a bass that followed her heartbeat. It wasn't sad, but you were. Streetlights had come on to balance out the rapidly vanishing sunlight and each one illuminated your features in fleeting rays of yellow, your eyes were hazy and your lips no longer smiling for her, and strands of hair brushed your temple whenever you adjusted your head on the glass. She followed the smooth lines of your brows down to the bridge of your nose, then to the curve of your upper lip. On her lap, her fingers twitched and curled into a loose fist. Her gaze went unnoticed, you were entirely enticed by the world beyond her reach and she was enthralled by the sadness on your face that added years to your current age of merely sixteen. You knew something she didn’t, she was sure of it, but no sound came out of her mouth after she parted her lips to ask. You swallowed, and her eyes flitted to the lump in your throat before settling back on your fluttering lashes. She suddenly perceived a distance between you that made her deeply uncomfortable and that feeling sat on her chest until your bus stop approached and you finally straightened up to look back at her. You smiled weakly, and Kafka spent years regretting not saying anything as you hesitantly patted her closed fist and placed the violin case on her thighs so you could prepare to stand, ringing the bell to announce your stop. She searched your eyes and found nothing but apologies.

“Playing with you makes me so happy,” you said out of the blue, holding up her stare intently. “You’re really great.”

“I know,” she replied lamely, half-jokingly, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound weak and breathless. It made her smile nonetheless.

“You’re gonna be so great, and I’m gonna be great, and we’re gonna be great together. We’ll perform on stage just like we talked about, and in ten years, we’ll be the best in our field.”

“It’ll take me less than ten years. But I’ll wait for you to catch up.”

You gazed at her for the half minute it took for the bus to pull over, searing her playful cockiness into your mind, then you stood and she moved her legs out of the way for you to reach the aisle.

“Bye, Kafka.”

“See you M…” Her goodbye was interrupted by the soft press of your lips on her cheek, a quick gesture before you rapidly turned away from her and walked out of the bus. “...Monday,” she muttered in confusion.

She turned to the window as the bus started up again and you waved at her with enthusiasm that felt out of place. Still, she made a disgusted face that made you smile wider, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue like she was going to puke from the uncharacteristic display of affection. Your figure got smaller and smaller, and she lifted a hand to her cheek to wipe the skin where your lips had been.

The piece is coming to an end. The hardest part has passed and all that is left is a clean finish that Kafka executes perfectly. The final note rings out in the empty room. Her head hangs low for a moment, eyes shut and exhaling slowly through her mouth. She is great and she’ll perform on stage in two weeks. She is not the best, not yet, she’s missing the soothing notes of piano keys to accompany her violin. Kafka chuckles to herself, the irony of this thought is laughable. She smiles, raises her head, and starts the piece from the top.

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader

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jenneyquinn · 2 months ago

Text

𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mabel rolls her eyes before answering.

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

"what?! that's—"

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

"but—"

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

"no."

"ALREADY HAPPENING!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"mabel!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"pacifica, wait!"

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

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

"gideon!"

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

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

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

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

"hey ugly! over here!"

the ghost seizes his laughs, spotting the gleeful twins.

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

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

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

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

you deceived me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"pacifica!"

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

"dipper?"

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

"dipper…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oof!"

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

"thanks, dipper. i… i forgive you."

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

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

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

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

"great-uncle mason, that was amazing!"

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

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

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

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

dipper?!

"dipper..."

his eyes crack open the slightest bit before shutting again.

"dipper..."

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

"wake up, dipper!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"pacifica's visiting!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

candy and grenda also giggle, making pacifica more flustered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"wait, what?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i guess you could say that..."

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

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

oh, who was he kidding.

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

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

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

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

"gleeful!"

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

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

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

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

then, he finally departs, exiting the bubble.

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

"oh, if it isn't lil' gideon—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're here now."

"SUGGESICA WIN!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pacifica gasps, feigning offense...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what are you talking about, dipper?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"and... gideon?" he winces.

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

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

"disco girl!"

"coming through!"

"that girl is you~!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

as the blonde in question raises an eyebrow, confused, the three remaining girls shares looks of mischief amongst each other; smirking slyly.

"speaking of your dating life, paz..." mabel begins in a teasing voice, "have you... say, got yourself any boyfriends, lately?"

now, it was pacifica's turn to blush—her cheeks a tinted pink.

"uh... no?" drawing out the confused 'no' in her reply, pacifica looks puzzled once more. "mabel, what—"

"AH-HA-HA-HA-HA~" dipper's forced laughs come out more obnoxious this time around, taking his sister's hand as he leads them out of the living room.

"mabel!"

"no... no... not you, too..."

"pacifica, you know in your heart that gideon's right. summer ends."

"but... i don't want it to end! i don't want to go back and... and..."

losing her words, pacifica looks back into dipper's eyes. deep down, she agreed with him wholeheartedly. she knew he was telling the truth.

but they were in pacificaland now. and the truth is not what she wants. especially if all the truth has done was hurt her and continued to do so.

"you said you wouldn't hurt me, dipper."

then there it was. the ache in his chest had returned. it didn't make sense, though! he was so sure that the guilt had been resolved after that night of the party at his mansion... so, why did it come back? he didn't so anything wrong. dipper made a deal with will so he could be granted full guardianship of the bubble and keep pacifica from harm.

she was all fine until that know-it-all gideon pines got in the way... he thinks he knows what's best for pacifica, and look what that go him—after all, he was the reason why the joyful blonde had felt so down in the first place! dipper didn't hurt pacifica, it was all gideon!

turning away from pacifica, dipper looks into gideon's eyes. if he could glare into them long enough, maybe daggers could materialize out of his brown eyes, shooting straight into gideon's blue ones.

what he didn't expect, however, was for gideon to stand his ground; staring back at dipper with the same amount—if not, more—determination than the once-evil psychic.

then, all at once, dipper's own words have struck him, remembering his promise to pacifica.

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

if i want to be more than pacifica's hero... he thinks to himself, i have to be someone worthy of loving... i have to do the right thing...

i have to be a better person.

"but, paz, you don't get it... mabel had cost me my dream school."

dipper repeats for the umpteenth time, lamenting over what could have been. he knew better than to be holding resentment over his twin sister for so long, but he just couldn't shake it off.

pacifica clearly notices this, which motivates her all the more to get her old friend to see sense.

"dipper, mabel and i haven't been on good terms this whole time, but after telling me the whole story, i've begun to see her in a different light." she confesses, laying a freshly-manicured hand atop inter-dimension traveller. "what baffles me is that while you can recall having a rich history with her, but it's only the two instances that she's done you wrong that keep a hold in your heart."

"but mabel was the reason i couldn't get into my dream school! she ruined my whole future in the blink of an eye—"

"she ruined your future, huh?" pacifica cuts him off, cocking a brow. "you want to know what i think, dipper?"

"paz—"

"no, maybe that big head of yours has influenced you in the past twenty years, and now it's got to your mouth—but i'm not going to stand for this. mabel is your twin sister. you guys sounded like two inseperable peas in a pod, but you've let that wrinkly brain of yours ruin probably the greatest friendship you've ever had."

pacifica pokes dipper's forehead for effect.

"sure, woe is you that you didn't get accepted to west coast. i'm sorry you didn't get to go into your dream school, but you went to backupsmore. you did the same work you hoped to accomplished at your first choice of school, but you pushed yourself even harder. if anything—you've probably found more success at backupsmore than west coast!"

"but mabel can't just get off scot-free—"

"your parents threw her out on the streets, dipper!" pacifica exclaims, utterly baffled by his sheer audacity, "things might've not have gone your way, but if they did back then, would you have been happier?"

hot tears begin to well up in the blonde's eyes, trying her hardest not to let them fall.

"you would have never come here! you would have never met... me..."

realizing that perhaps he did let his grievances get the better of him yet again, dipper had easily forgotten that he was only wanted to catch up over coffee with an old friend (maybe even get a second date afterwards), but he's blowing it.

blowing it big time.

"pacifica, of course i'm thankful for the way things turned out. meeting you was one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

"well, it sure doesn't feel like it..." she remarks, refusing to back down.

"look, i understand why you would be upset with mabel. sure, she ruined your chances of getting to your dream school, and got you trapped in another dimension for like, two decades, but she didn't mean to hurt you on purpose—and i think, deep down, you know this too."

though he wouldn't admit out loud, dipper did agree with pacifica's words. maybe it was just easier to stay mad at his sister because some part of him, subconsciously, knew that he was also to blame for where he ended up—especially getting himself sucked into the portal that he built himself.

"besides, if mabel was really as bad as you claimed her to be, then she wouldn't have spent all this time fixing your portal—just to get yourself out. in retrospect, what she did would typically require a prayer and a miracle to do: mabel self-educated in sciences, paid off your mortgage, and kept secrets to protect herself and her family. she did all this, her determined solely based on the very slim chance she could fix her mistake and bring you back home."

he wanted so badly to tell her that she was right. his mouth was already open, but with no words coming out, left speechless by the blonde's truth, he disappointed her; yet again.

"you know, i really missed you, dipper—but it turns out i didn't know you as well as i thought. call me when you decide to stop listening to your head and listen to your heart for a change."

with those final words, pacifica pulls out some bills from her wallet, before getting up from the booth, and out of the diner.

"what?!"

mabel yelps right before her brother frantically slaps a hand over her mouth, then peering over his shoulder to see if her loud reaction drew any attention from their guests.

with dipper's head turned, the other twin takes a chance and licks his hand, causing not only him to retract in disgust, but her as well; forgetting in that brief moment how sweaty her brother really was.

"mabel, seriously?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

spitting out and blowing raspberries with her tongue, she spats: "ugh! when do you ever not sweat?"

"whatever, that's not the point!" dipper replies, still hushed.

after blowing the last raspberries, mabel continues, whispering as well: "you haven't asked pacifica to be your girlfriend yet? spring break's almost over!"

"i know, i know, it's just..." he turns back to the living room, looking solemnly at the blonde; currently laughing along with candy and grenda. "i thought i was ready, i really did..."

seeing the gloom in her brother's face, mabel puts a hand to dipper's shoulder.

"so, what happened bro-bro?"

turning back to face his sister, dipper draws a deep sigh before asking: "mabel, do you think, if pacifica and i start dating... we'll end up arguing more than mom and dad?"

"huh?" she questions, her face puzzled.

"i mean, pacifica and i are just so different... and it's only been almost a year since we've met..." dipper explains, "on the other hand, our parents have known each other for almost twenty years... but that didn't stop them from those big arguments last year... do you think—"

"dipper, let me stop you right there," mabel interrupts, holding her hands up in a 'stop' gesture, "you and pacifica are nothing like mom and dad—and that doesn't have to be a good or bad thing! you guys have an awesome dynamic, whether as friends or as a couple—nudge nudge! the point is, you should ask pacifica to be your girlfriend when you feel you're ready. don't rush it, and definitely don't let other relationships like our parents get to you. after all, there's always summer!"

after giving it some thought, dipper looks away from mabel, turning to pacifica once more, then back to his sister; smiling.

"you make a good point, mabel... thanks. 'sides, there's always summer, right?"

after breaking free from the bubble in which will has imprisoned pacifica, she—along with the company of dipper, mabel, gideon, melody, and robbie—have made their way back to the tent of telepathy.

though found seemingly empty at first, the battle cries of the townsfolk taking refuge in the shack provokes the group of people who had just came from weirdmaggedon.

that is, until one of the folk—the six-fingered one in particular—had spotted their great niece and nephew, almost immediately standing down.

"kids?"

"grunkle ford!" dipper and mabel cheer, rushing to hug the old man.

"i can’t believe it! i thought i lost you two.” he says, capturing the twins in his arms.

“did you really?” mabel asks smugly.

“no,” ford answers, returning a smug grin back at her, “i was looking forward to not being bothered by you deliquents anymore.”

“you can always try again, grunkle ford.” dipper says.

“so, how did you all get here?”

ford then proceeds to recall the events from his perspective as weirdmaggedon unfolded, noting how the tent was the only place unaffected by will’s powers due to the protection of the unicorn hair.

“eventually, all these injured stragglers show up needing a place to stay. since the mayor got captured, i elected myself de facto chief. the plan's to stay in here and eat brown meat until we run out, then eat the gnomes."

as ford finishes explaining to his niece and nephew impassively, a nearby gnome immediately picked up on the chief's plan and gasped in utter disgust.

"hey! i'm short, not deaf!"

glancing from the kids to the gnome, ford remains indifferent.

"survival of the fittest, pal. sucks to be you, i guess."

"grunkle ford, we can't all just hide inside the tent," mabel reasons, "we have to save the town! gideon, stan, and i tried to do it, but grunkle stan ended up getting captured by will."

"serves that jerk right, it's what you get for trying to be a hero." ford remarks, then gestures to the townsfolk taking refuge in the tent. "besides, look at these people. the reason why they're here is not from the kindness of my heart, they're here out of fear—because people blindly following me would be less torturous than following some all-powerful space demon."

"so, you're really going to let will win?" gideon asks.

"kid, we got the best deal we could possibly get." the elder gleeful says, lounging back on his recliner. "be lucky that my niece is all sweet on you, otherwise i'd be kicking you and your cousin out on the streets with whatever townsfolk were unfortunate to not take refuge."

gideon frowns deeply, disgusted and frustrated with the six-fingered man. pacifica, although offended by the remark, is saddened on her cousin's behalf; considering that her uncle and aunt—despite their significant lack of quality parenting—are still out there amongst the chaos.

so, understandably, mabel is furious, and dipper places a empathetic hand on pacifica's shoulder—sharing in her lament.

she couldn't believe it... pacifica had waited for so long... she's waited twenty years, just to see him again.

though she would never admit it out loud to anyone else, pacifica's had dreams about reuniting with her former partner, many of them just a grasp away from a happy ending... that is, until she gets pulled back to consciousness at the final moment, and she realises...

he's not there.

after years of hoping, asking whatever external forces in the universe, just for the chance to see dipper pines one more time.

yet, after that lunch at greasy's, when pacifica finally got the chance to catch up with her old friend, she got to really know who dipper actually was... and it was just like in those final moments before she woke up each morning for the past couple decades.

he's still not here.

so, though it pains her heart to do this, pacifica needs to give dipper space. as long as things between him and his sister remain unresolved, how could she begin to think about having their own relationship mended?

but she's waited for twenty years... she won't mind waiting a little bit more.

take the rift...

"huh?" she scans the town around her. "who's there?"

nobody was nearby. in fact, she doesn't remember seeing the town in such a... monochromatic state. it was chilling, to say the very least.

after confirming nothing was behind her, pacifica shook her head rather wildly, trying to get her vision back. she didn't even summon him... she's fully awake... so, how did pacifica end up in the dreamscape?

suddenly, a being manifests before her. yellow, triangle-shaped, demonic. the blonde recognized him from the pages of the notebook, as well as the numerous tapestries she's locked up in one of the many closets in her mansion. after inheriting the property, stowing those demon-tapestries away was just about one of the first thing's she done to northwest manor.

"stay back!" she roars, standing guard.

"oh, llama, i'm sure your family raised you to be more poised than that." bill teases, swarming around her.

"you're nothing but bad news, you triangle goblin." pacifica spats, folding her arms, her hip cocked to one side. "i know you're like some sort of massive psycho, but you'd have to be even more mindless to think i'd make some deal with you."

"no need to be hostile, llama." bill says, backing away and giving her space. "i noticed that you had a lover's quarrel with pine tree lately, and i just want to give you something small to lift up your spirits."

"dipper and i don't have anything together." she states bluntly, clearly uninterested. "and i'm well off on my own, so if you're thinking of making me like, the richest person in the world, forget it."

"what if i gave you a better pine tree?" he offers, floating about and around her again. "in a snap, i can re-wire the old geek..."

with a snap of his fingers, a phantom of dipper appears before the two, walking towards pacifica with a smile on his ghostly face.

"a pine tree that isn't self-absorbed and all-consumed by science."

though he is a phantom, the animated dipper is able to take pacifica's hand in his. bill's probably controlling me, isn't he?

"a pine tree that can listen to his heart."

using his free arm to circle her waist, this dipper pulls pacifica close to him, his ghastly eyes seemingly consumed by her.

maybe, pacifica can't wait any longer. after all, she is getting old. besides, with dipper being the same age, she knows that he's getting old too. he's finally back home, so perhaps he ought to finally get some rest.

but it's not right. if she let herself sank this low, dipper would never forgive her. heck, she doesn't even think she could forgive herself. he wouldn't even be the dipper she fell in grew to like.

"all i need is this galaxy-looking globe of your boyfriend's. it's nothing big, so he won't miss it. so, whattaya say?"

looking from 'dipper' to bill's hand, ready for a shake, pacifica's determination returns to her; hitting her stronger than ever.

"my pine tree is perfect the way he is."

"what?" bill sputters in disbelief.

"you heard me," pacifica pulls away, staring into the demon's eye, "no deal."

"YOU FAKE BLONDE IMPENDING PATERNITY TEST! DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I CAN UNMAKE YOUR FAMILY'S LEGACY AND YOU'LL BE LEFT WITH NOTHING—"

"i don't care. i have preston, and i have dipper."

"YOU WORTHLESS WASTE OF STOLEN INCOME! IT’LL BE EVEN EASIER TO TAKE THEM AWAY FROM YOU! MAKE THE DEAL, LLAMA."

without hesitance, she raises a fist; completely all out of patience.

"NO!"

"wait, so if the answer to the equation is zero, then why can't x also be zero?" pacifica asks as her eyebrows knit together, staring from the homework spread on her desk back to the dork on video call from her laptop. "anything that's multiplied by zero has to equal zero, right?"

"yeah, but if you applied zero in place of x," dipper explains, amused by the blonde's annoyance. "you'd have two multiplying negative one, making the answer—"

"negative two, yeah, yeah." pacifica cuts him off, waving it aside. "lemme try again, but i need you to shut up for a bit."

on screen, dipper looks deadpanned, but he knew that pacifica was really trying. the school year was almost over, and thanks to insufficient funds to keep her original tutor, pacifica was left to her own devices.

the thing was, he has helped her all year, and she was perfectly confident with her grades... so, why are the stakes so much higher now?

"x equals negative two or one-half!"

"see, i knew you could do it." dipper smiles at her through the monitor.

chuckling at the dopey expression on his face, pacifica feels her cheeks grow warm, smiling back at him. "thanks dipper... but i couldn't have done it without you. actually... i think i might've needed to repeat the eight grade if it wasn't for you."

"you kidding me? you're great at practically anything you put your mind to!"

heh, i hope you're right about that, dip.

what pacifica isn't telling him is how much of a big deal her final math exam really is for her. as far as he knows, it's just her first final exam that she's gotten without an expensive tutor nor the safety net of her parents' fortune to get her into the ninth grade.

"bro-bro! tell your girlfriend ya gotta go! dinner's ready!"

mabel's off-screen call promptly causes her brother to be fully red in the face, momentarily losing his cool; to which pulls a giggle from the other end of his video call.

"sounds like i gotta let you go, bro-bro." pacifica teases, reaching for her laptop, over the sheets and textbooks. "same time, tomorrow?"

"heh, of course." dipper replies, chuckling nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. "sorry about mabel, you know how she is—"

"you don't need to apologize for anything, dork. catch ya later."

the dopey, awkward grin on dipper's face is the last thing she sees before she clicks on the 'end call' button, butterflies swarming in her stomach as she's temporarily allured by the goofiness that is her crush—not that she'd admit it to anyone else, though.

soon enough, those butterflies turn into rumbles, her stomach calling out for food as well.

after shutting her laptop and abandoning post at her desk, pacifica begins to make her way down to the kitchen.

"it's about time you showed up."

preston speaks bluntly as he and his wife are sitting on the dining table, with no food before them.

"we're starving, darling." priscilla says. "we thought we were going to have to wait forever for that... pines boy... to finally end your tutor session."

taking in a deep breath, pacifica sighs just as heavily, walking towards the fridge: "what are you guys going to make me prepare tonight?"

after viewing toby determined by turned to stone, soon to join will’s throne of subdued townsfolk, the remaining people in the tent of telepathy are finally pushed to the edge—the drive of freeing the town overruling their fear of will’s tyrannic takeover.

led by the team of gideon, pacifica, and the gleeful twins, all of the refuged individuals desperately assist tad mcgucket in turning the tent of telepathy into a force for battle.

days later, their combined efforts resulted in the completion of the remodeled tent of telepathy; much to ford’s dissatisfaction.

"thanks for these apocalyspe sweaters, pacifica." melody praises, physically snug in the cashmere. "the end of the world has never felt so comfortable."

"you were always a girl of many talents, sunshine." dipper chimes in, proudly showing off the sweater with a pine tree in the center.

the rest of the refugees are in agreement; nodding and humming.

hearing a shiver from behind her, pacifica shoots mabel a look as she notices she's still sweaterless. desperate to just warm up.

"ugh!" she whines, caving in as she pulls out a pink sweater with a shooting star in the center. "fine i'll wear it," she says, putting it on, "but i'm not gonna like it."

"admit it, this is the best day of the end of the world." pacifica says, taking a seat between dipper and gideon. "i think we actually have a chance to defeat will and win back our future."

"yeah," gideon adds, "can't believe i'm saying this, but i would much rather want to live to see mabel and dipper turn thirteen."

mabel gives gideon a soft smile, something that not even her twin brother has ever seen from her—and surprisingly, gideon even smiles back at mabel.

"if we're lucky, sunshine, i guarantee we'll throw another party at the manor and invite everyone in town."

though she knew dipper was certain about it, pacifica still raises a brow in suspicion; purely out of testing him.

sighing, he places a hand over his chest: "i promise, pacifica."

hearing the approaching footsteps from one of his two nephews, dipper sighs, putting aside whatever work he was currently tending to, now tending to his nephew instead.

"let me guess: stanley didn't take it well."

the young stanford pines shakes his head, regret and doubt starting to spread across his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'm making the wrong decision." ford replies, looking up at his grunkle. "i need to think about this."

"ford, right now we need to focus on the mission." dipper says, trying to pacify his nephew's gloom. "now come on, i've got the glue—hand me the rift and let's make history."

turning his frown into a smile, ford reaches into his supposed backpack, only to pull out—a birthday flyer?!

"what? oh no! the rift!"

it's the last day of exam week, and the weight of the world is on pacifica shoulders... or at least that's how she's feeling right now.

pulling up to the front of the school, the blonde unbuckles her seatbelt, picking up her bag, and is just about to open the door before her father halts her.

"pacifica," preston calls to his daughter, causing her to turn back to him. "you are a northwest. remember, if you don't get a perfect score on that final exam, you can say goodbye to your inheritance."

suddenly, pacifica's taken back to the day of the golf tournament between herself and mabel—and it only makes her feel worse.

so, she doesn't give anything to her dad but an affirmative nod, steps out of the vehicle, and watches as the family car drives off.

once the car was out of view, pacifica rushes into the school and in the washroom, locking herself in a stall.

hyperventilating, the distressed blonde holds a hand to her chest—though it doesn't do anything to slow her breathing nor stabilize the rise and fall of her chest. before she knew it, hot tears stream down her face, and the choked sobs that barely escape from her are just a cork from a full-on piercing cry.

get it together pacifica! she begs in her mind. stop being so weak!

feeling hopeless, the floor in the stall might as well turn into a black hole and swallow pacifica whole. it's still early in the morning, maybe she can just play hooky... and just catch the next bus to piedmont. it's not like her parents would miss her, right? especially when she won't get that perfect score they were hoping for. maybe he was right...

YOU'LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING.

YOU'LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING—

it was only a single ringtone that pulls pacifica from her mind. rubbing her tears away and taking a sniffle, she pulls out her phone and reads the caller id from the screen.

𝗠𝗔𝗕𝗘𝗟 𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 💫

pacifica thinks about answering, she really does, but what could she say? the only person she's ever been vulnerable with was her brother.

before she knew it, pacifica lets her phone ring for too long, letting her enemy-turned-frenemy-turned-friend[ish?] go to voicemail.

"hey pacifica! dipper and i are just about to head to school, so we wanted to give you a call and wish you good luck on your math final! remember, no matter what the result is, our support for you is as long as pi! ha! get it? 'cause it's endless?? eh??? anyways, we'll always be proud of you, paz!"

pacifica rolls her eyes, chuckling at the shooting star's oh-so familiar cheesiness.

"mabel's right," a different voice enters the message, "you've done so well in school this year all by yourself, so don't sweat it, pacifica. you're going to nail that final, and even if you're not happy with the score, you should be proud of all the work you've put in this year."

"psst! dippingsauce!" pacifica can hear mabel call out to him, but her voice is rather hushed, likely due to her being some distance away from her phone. "tell paz you less than three her!"

"'less than three her'? what do you mean, 'less than three'..." dipper's voice dies down at the end, dead air follows the voicemail as he figures out what his sister meant.

"MABE—"

just like that, the voicemail ends—or rather, cuts off. pacifica sniffles, but she finds herself smiling. chuckling, actually.

who was she kidding? of course they were right! she's pacifica northwest. the only northwest that ended her family's curse. the same girl who showed up to a family photoshoot because she stopped caring about what others wanted her to be. the llama of bill cipher's zodiac!

bill was wrong, and after all she's done to save their lives—her parents no longer get the privilege to boss her around and treat her like a butler.

so, when pacifica finally cleans herself up, then walks in the classroom to take her final math exam for the school year, she's filled with nothing but confidence. she's pacifica, after all. as if she was going to finish the eight grade with anything less than an A+.

but, her mom and dad can keep that stupid inheritance of hers, she can make her own fortunes.

"this whole plan is insane, but no one asked the chief what he thinks. after all i've done for everyone!"

"hey dipper? mabel?" pacifica calls to them, but looks in the direction of the twins' grunkle. "shouldn't you guys talk to your grunkle? he doesn't look alright..."

"oh, we already know why he's acting like that," mabel brushes it off, only looking at ford for a second before staring back at pacifica, "don't worry about it, pacifica. he's always been this stubborn, but he'll come around. just needs to blow off some steam, that's all."

then, when mabel turns away to continue chatting with gideon, dipper shakes his head and rolls his eyes before talking to the blonde.

"to make a long story short, sunshine: mabel and i have been helping grunkle ford rescue grunkle stan ever since we could remember. after discovering that will had a connection to stan's dissappearance, understandably, we've tortured him enough to surrender and be subservient to us—using his powers and the tent of telepathy to steer suspeciting eyes away. once we got stan back, he only ever expressed gratitude to mabel and i—holding his grudge against ford."

"oh..." it wasn't pacifica, but gideon reacting to his former enemy's story. "so you guys weren't really evil, after all—just misunderstood?"

"nah, with stan's smarts, and ford's con-man skills, we could've easily turned the falls into gleefulland—ow!"

dipper holds a hand to his side, turning back to pacifica, who looks at him with a dissappointing pout.

"jerk. if neither of you are going to talk to ford, then i will."

"so, this is how the world ends. not with a bang, but with a boop-boop."

"weirdmaggedon." ford says, he and his grunkle looking up to the x-shaped rip in the sky—which the younger pines could only assume would be the portal to the nightmare realm.

"the rift is shattered." dipper says, lifting his nephew up as he gets run over by various animals and creatures. "bill's world is spilling into ours and every minute his powers grow stronger."

"stanley!" ford panics as eyes go wide. "the rift must've cracked inside his backpack. he must be in danger. i have to go and find him."

rushing towards the walkie-talkie, ford calls out to stan: "stanley! come in, stanley! stanley!"

"ford. listen to me." dipper calls to the boy sternly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "we can find your brother soon, but right now, we need to stop bill. if we could blast him back through the rip he came out of, we just might be able to stop him before his weirdness spreads across the entire globe."

"are you sure defeating bill is even possible?" ford asks, a hint of uncertainty rises in his voice.

"no. i'm not sure." dipper confesses, but with every bit of courage he could muster from within himself, he looks down at ford. taking a knee down to his nephew's level, the elder pines looks into the eyes of the six-fingered boy—hoping that the next words that leave his mouth transfer a spark of a fight in ford. "but being a hero means fighting back even when it seems impossible. will you follow me?"

"to the ends of the earth."

a/n: omg FINALLY part 2 is done! i just want to take this moment to thank every single one of you for all the support and praise you have given me since i released the first part. i just want to give a heads up that since school is starting again for me, and balancing that with my job, i clearly won't have as much spare time to be working on this fic—but i'll try my best to have the final part posted within two months from now.

writing ilyieu has been so great for me, not just in terms of engagement and the traction i get from other users, but also for my writing. usually, i don't think i would be posting this much writing in such a short span of time... i haven't been this proactive in my writing since 2020 when all i had was quarantine and wattpad, if i gotta be honest.

i hope that this part is just as good as the first, because the next part is going to be last—as it wraps up the stories i have between dipcifica in all thre au's. your ongoing support means so a lot to me, so please send me lots of likes, reposts, and even asks my way! just about any engagement will likely inspire me to keep writing! here, how about i answer some of those future asks right now:

q: jen, your writing is so awesome! do you think alex hirsch will hire you to help him write any future books for gf?

a: uh—i don't have a degree in english or any related subjects, but if he's still willing to pay me—I SURE FRIGGIN HOPE SO

q: do you actually like gravity falls or are you just writing this because the book of bill came out/you just started watching the series/you know gf is trending on tumblr/you wanted to join the gf hype while it's still trending?

a: yes. definitely. absolutely. (stan pines would be so proud of me :,))

q: ur writing sucks/u take so long to post/u copied [insert name here] so unoriginal

a: this is definitely not a rick roll

anyways, thanks a bunch again for your guys' support! you’ve gotten me my first 200+ notes, my recent dipcifica drabble has already surpassed 100 (despite only writing and posting it yesterday), and i’m actually gaining a following (even if it’s small!) i’ll be posting more soon!

taglist: @wwwritererm @a-messy-flower @stormcloudsarepretty @marii-iana @whosbex @seukymin @vegas96 @caro2004 @ghostlyvisiting @frozzuwuwu @cyanside @mcmymuffin @poorlittlerichgirll @invisible-vampire13 @tielmamon @optimussy @hoatzin2 @janis01127 @platonicallyalone @raccoonchild333 @kagura15 @suckerfordylansstuff @cosmic-peonies @ashisuniverse @automaticpandaoperatorpizza

follow #jw: i love you in every universe for more content!

#gravity falls #dipcifica #jw: i love you in every universe #dipper pines #dipper x pacifica #gf dipper #gf pacifica #reverse falls #reverse falls au #relativity falls #relativity falls au #pacifica x dipper #dipper gravity falls #gravity falls pacifica #gravity falls dipper #pacifica northwest #pacifica gravity falls #jenney writes

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melminli · 10 months ago

Text

teachers pet - by melanie martinez

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - if i'm so special, why am i secret?

word count: 2k+

contains: student coryo (academy is basically a uni), teacher reader, age gap (coryo is in his early twenties while the reader is somewhere in her thirties), teacher x student relationships, dark themes, cheating (reader is married), mommy issues, manipulating, blackmailing

The life of a nerd didn't look as bad as it was portrayed in movies or books. However, it must be said that Coriolanus Snow had neither the stereotypical look nor behavior of a nerd, which may have been the reason why he was hardly treated like one. He had only the best, the good grades of a model student, the popularity of a popular student, and the good looks of a young man his age.

Cute girls queued up to get a chance with him since he seemed like a dream. In a world full of boys, he was a gentleman, a young man with a secure future. Some of his classmates would joke that he would be the future president of Panem, although they always had a slightly confident undertone while saying that. To be honest, no one would be surprised if he would be someday.

"Come on, Coriolanus! Let's go for a drink, you're never coming with us!" Complained the voice of some side character. "I'm sure you have a good chance with most of the girls in the bar - or boys. Whatever you like, I don't judge." He joked, and Clemensia hit him on the shoulder with her fist to warn him to take it down a notch.

She spoke in his place. "Leave him be. He's not into that sort of thing. I'm sure he'd rather spend his time doing more productive things." A slight grin stretched across her features. "Maybe you should try that sometime. Perhaps then you wouldn't fail half the subjects."

Festus interrupted the conversation as he walked past the group. "Come on, Clemmie. Leave the poor guy alone. We're students. It's normal to go partying every now and then." His eyes looked somewhat defiantly at Coriolanus. "You only live once. There's no need to waste it."

Alcoholics and drug addicts use the same excuse, stupid idiot. Coriolanus had enough of this whole interaction. It was time to wrap it up. "Of course, and everyone is free to live this life the way they want." He said with a falsely charming smile when he finally got a chance to speak. "I'm afraid I don't have much time either, I'm already in demand elsewhere."

Unfortunately for him, Arachne couldn't hold her tongue and had to carry on the conversation. "And so late on a Wednesday, too? Don't tell me our teacher's pet is in trouble. Has Mrs. Lola finally realized that you're just trying to get better grades with your flirting, and she doesn't actually have a chance with the pretty boy?" She joked as she mentioned the older woman who was getting closer to retirement with each passing year.

But her comment didn't make the intended person bitter, but Festus, who had to grit his teeth in annoyance. "Can't believe that shit works. I complimented her the other day, and she gave me a look like she was cursing me and the rest of my bloodline." He sighed. "I don't even want kids."

Coriolanus was getting impatient. If at least Sejanus was here, he could cover for him enough to leave, but no, they didn't share every damn course there was. He couldn't believe that this bothered him somehow. "No. Actually, I have asked to speak with Mrs. Rosey regarding her assigned homework." He announced, mentioning your name.

His pretty literature teacher. The only woman he wanted.

The eyes of the person who had started the whole thing in the first place lit up briefly. Coriolanus didn't bother to remember his name. "Oh, she's that one young teacher, isn't she?" He asked. The title wasn't really that hard to get since most of the teachers at the academy were dinosaurs. "She's pretty hot, I regret dropping literature man, but at the end of the day it's just an unnecessary course that requires extra work."

Okay, now Coriolanus was not only annoyed but also angry and had to stop himself from looking too passionate. "Right, see you tomorrow." He quickly said goodbye and paid no further attention to what the others were saying as he made his way to the teachers' lounge. He quickly fixed his tie and hair before knocking on the door. Fortunately, he didn't meet anyone else in the corridors who wasted his time unnecessarily. His patience was getting thin, and he didn't think he had enough of it to make him exchange more false smiles and words.

"Come in..." He heard your muffled voice call through the door before he slowly opened it, and his eyes immediately turned to your table. You, too, looked up from the papers in front of you and met his figure as you turned your chair to the side. "Mr. Snow, you said you had a question about the assignment I gave you."

There was a step between you two, but your voice still felt close. Maybe it was because you two were the only ones in the room since it was pretty late. Now that Coriolanus was looking down at your figure, you looked quite exhausted and seemed barely able to keep your eyes open. Judging by your desk, you were in the middle of correcting last week's quiz, but he doubted that was the only thing you were working on. Your usually well-groomed appearance was a little more disheveled. There were strands of hair peeking out from various places, and the first few buttons of your shirt were undone. "You never called me." Was all he said as he watched you avoid his gaze.

Your tongue licked over your dry lips as you searched for the right words. "I don't think that has anything to do with the assignment." You replied. Maybe my mistake was, hoping he had a question in the first place. "I'm not going to talk about other matters, I'm busy." You tried to explain to him.

Coriolanus laughed in disbelief. He placed his coat and bag on the chair next to him before leaning back against your table. "Oh, please. I can understand you wanting to keep our special time a secret, but don't try to deny it." He spat out, placing his hand on the papers to stop you from continuing to work on it. "Do you regret the things we shared, huh? Don't lie to me."

You met his gaze after you sighed. "Look, Mr. Snow. I'm sure you'll understand me when I tell you that you should rather concentrate on your studies, don't you think?"

His jaw tightened further as you continued to skillfully evade his questions. As if you didn't care at all, as if you didn't care about him. He was fully aware that what he was getting into was something short-term, but he still wouldn't allow you to throw him away as easily as trash. "Oh, so it's Mr. Snow now? What happened to Coryo."

You stood up so you could speak to him at eye level. Coriolanus has always been a bit more clingy with you. You expected no less, and yet it didn't make this whole procedure any less difficult. "Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm married, and you know that." You tried to work through the situation. You grabbed his arms to comfort him with your touch. "There are so many young girls out there who want you. I'm so much older than you, and I'm also your teacher. From the beginning, this was something that wouldn't last."

He shook his head. "I don't care about them. It's you I want, please. Only you." He begged, and this time, he was the one who grabbed your arms to stop you from leaving, from leaving him. Coriolanus could see in your eyes how his desperation couldn't convince you, and he wished it would. Not only because he wanted to, but also so that he wouldn't have to resort to other methods, but you left him no other choice. "It would be a scandal if the whole thing came out, don't you think?"

You just sighed tiredly when he didn't let you go. "Sweetie..."

He softened a little at the pet name, but that didn't stop him. "No, you can't just use me until you're satisfied and then dispose of me. I will tell everyone and you know that as a teacher you will be in a position where people will accuse you of taking advantage of me." He explained as he pushed you between him and the desk while he watched the look of irritation on your face. His one hand came up to gently stroke your cheek, but his true intentions were visible through the strong grip on your arm. "And of course, you can try to tell the truth or try to defend yourself, but you know who they're more likely to believe."

He hadn't only pushed your body in a corner anymore. "So what? We're going to keep doing this until you're satisfied and let me go." You asked, seeing no long-lasting result.

That was your mistake. It hadn't been long since you'd been married, so Coriolanus was aware that you hadn't changed your surname. He liked that about you. He liked the sound of Rosey, and he too wanted to hold you like a little pretty rose in his grasp. "Yes. Except I won't let you go. Ever." he said with a slightly dreamy look.

You dared to disagree. "Mr. Snow - " you began, but changed your tone when you saw him grimace angrily and tighten his grip on your arm. " - Coryo, look. You're a smart boy, and yes, I enjoyed our time together, but it's not right that - "

" - I love you, and if it's wrong, then I don't want to be right. Why can't you understand that already? I know I'm young, but I'm not naive, so don't talk to me like I am." He spat out in annoyance and finally reached the end of his patience. His eyes glanced briefly next to you at the table where the sheets of paper were now messely scattered around. It seemed you were in the process of correcting his. how convenient. his hand grabbed it and held it in front of you. "Let's play a little game. If I pass this quiz, you'll give me something I want."

Your eyes didn't move from his. You knew you had to play along whether you wanted to or not, and you didn't seem to get far with values and morals. You doubted you would do it at all with him. "And what do you want?" You asked him simply.

He leaned closer to you. "A kiss."

You met his eyes and took the paper from his hand without even glancing at it. "You passed." You confirmed and pulled him into a soft kiss.

This is how he liked you. When you touched him tenderly like now and stroked his hair lovingly. Coriolanus only felt like this with you. Do you think he wouldn't have tried to get away from you? He did, first with several girls who just wanted him to give and give and he hated that they just took from him and thought it was enough if they just stood pretty next to him or leaned back and spread their legs. Hated them, and so he tried women who were older than him and then women who had the same color eyes as you, some who smiled like you and then some whose voice was similar to yours. He liked those the most because with them, he could just close his eyes and imagine it was you.

Then he finally got tired of just imagining it, and once he had a taste of what might be, there was no going back to his old ways.

"I love you." He finally said as you ended the kiss and he leaned his forehead against yours while his hands wrapped around yours. "Don't ever think about leaving me again and don't make me out to be crazy for wanting you."

What am I supposed to do with you, little snowflake, now that you don't melt away? "All right, Coryo, I won't." You just replied and saw no point in arguing with him anymore. You knew him well enough to know how possessive and dominant he could get. However, you liked him more when he was dependent on you and sought your approval. "But be good and a little nicer to me, will you?" You said and squeezed his hands. "Because if I wanted some stupid man who was full of himself, I'd go to my husband."

He nodded quickly, giving in easily now that it was clear that he had you. "Of course, anything you want. I'll do anything you want." He spoke and took your hand in his up to place a kiss on it. "All you have to do is ask for it."

Coriolanus would take care of your useless husband. You wouldn't need him when you were going to marry him soon.

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vlrghoes · 3 months ago

Text

What Once Was | Chapter One

author’s note: I edited and proof read this after coming back from the club so if you see something wrong don’t be afraid to point it out as I’m quite friendly anyway!

I still don’t know if I like this chapter but overall I’m just shy about sharing my work because I’m hyper judgmental of my own work but I still wanted to share this with you guys anyway.

The chapters after this will be set a few years after this (which will be clarified in the chapters)

I’m English so if anything is wrong in terms of America and the health practices please forgive me!

I’m literally yapping now but I do want to say that I can’t promise chapter two will come in under 2 weeks as I’ve just finished my law degree and landed my dream job (not related to my degree) and I start training next Sunday and it’s for 5 weeks, really intense and with exams almost every day and if I mess up I lose my job. (Not sure if it’s obvious what my job is but anyways.) Also it’s my birthday on Wednesday and I’m celebrating Thursday so less time to write!

cw/tw: death, pregnancy complications, heavy angst, references to mental health and body dysmorphia/body image issues

word count: 4370 (I never usually write more than 2k so this is weird for me)

tag list (ask to be added): @trippinsorrows @cyberdejos2 @maeb99 @southerngirl41 @callmekayd @trentybenty @tian-monique @rose-bliss (if your name isn’t in grey, it’s not letting me tag you but I’ll try in the comment section)

masterlist

“You’re choosing that stupid title over your family again.” Ayanna’s voice cracked, the finality of her words hanging in the air as Joe stood frozen, his guilt palpable and his resolve wavering. She had spent all day running around the house and decorating for their special day. She spent hours preparing a nice steak dinner for the two of them, however it had been left untouched, the wait quelling her appetite as she now only felt sick. The dress she picked out now felt too revealing, no longer complimenting her body. Suddenly it clung to all the wrong parts and accentuated her weight gain, making her feel like a whale instead. The candles in the house had melted to the point where the fire had flickered out and the playlist she had queued just sounded like white noise at this point. Nothing matters anymore because Joe is late, late home once again and Ayanna is reaching breaking point. She spent hours waiting for him after she prepared their dinner, but all the effort didn’t matter anymore because instead of romance, the air was filled with tension and dread. “You know they’re due any day now, Joe how could you do this to me, to us. How can you still be wrestling so soon to my due date?” She said, her voice filled with emotion as she tried to steady herself. She didn’t want to cry, she had cried so much this entire pregnancy and she felt miserable. Instead of having that pregnancy glow like Rihanna, she had the life sucked out of her and she just felt lifeless.

“Look baby, I'm sorry.” Joe began, trying to figure out mentally how to get himself out of the trouble he was in. It wasn’t his fault, the media day for Wrestlemania was meant to finish much earlier but they took longer to set up, in turn making Joe’s interview (which was last) late. He had intended to be home earlier but it just seemed like the universe had other plans.

“Don’t even bother” Ayanna sighed, playing with the ring on her finger which now felt like it weighed a tonne. When they first got together, he gave it to her as a promise he’d marry her and whilst he did deliver on that promise, since getting pregnant and no longer being able to join him on the road she wondered if it was worth it sometimes. It’s not that she didn’t love Joe, hell sometimes she thinks she loves him too much. However she now isn’t sure if he loved her more than that title. He used to be so romantic; he’d bring her flowers every single day no matter what, he’d take her on dates, even small ones that weren't as lavish and she loved it. But the more he climbed up the ranks of WWE, the less the romance was there. Then shortly after he became champion everything stopped. Their marriage hit the rocks as he was never home and he started to miss things such as birthdays and christmases, so to save their marriage Ayanna gave up everything and joined him on the road. It was all going great until her later stages of pregnancy which stopped her from travelling with him but the most important thing for Ayanna was that he never missed an anniversary.

Well that was until now.

“Do you even know what day it is?” Ayanna asked, her voice quiet as she watched his mind tick, the cogwheels visabilly spinning with his face scrunched up in confusion, dull eyes squinting until it all finally clicks and he looks at her horrified. “You know, as bad as you’ve been lately, I always used to say ‘at least he’d always remembered our anniversary’ but it seems I can’t even say that anymore.” She spits, her heart breaking as the words leave her mouth.

“Yana” he started, feeling dizzy as he watched her flinch, a look almost of disgust flashing within her eyes. The nickname didn’t bring the butterflies it used to bring anymore, instead it forced a swell of emotion that made her feel like she could spew her guts any second. She used to look at him in adoration, but as the years passed the glimmer in her eyes decreased daily until they were fully extinguished. “Baby things are going to change after wrestlemania, I promise. Just one more match, after this I promise I’ll ask Vince again for some time off, I’m sure he’ll give it to me this time.”

The both of them knew that he was telling her what he wanted her to hear, the same conversation being repeated so many times to the point where they felt like they were in limbo. The last time Joe had asked, Vince told him he couldn’t have time off as he was their top star and Joe simply didn’t ask again. He always seemed to lack a backbone in situations that require him having one, but is happy to have a backbone and be stubborn when he doesn't need to be. Ayanna was exhausted, carrying one baby is hard enough but of course Joe carried the twin gene so she was carrying two instead and it felt like they were draining the life from her body. “I just want you to be present Joe, I feel like a single mother despite being married.” She pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. No one ever mentioned how lonely pregnancy is. She had lost many friends as she couldn’t go out to the club or drink anymore which meant that she spent days on end staring at the four walls of her bedroom watching the time pass as she waited up for Joe to come home. She sighed, tears threatening to well in her eyes which made her mentally curse. Stupid baby hormones. “You made the same promise last time, I don’t think you understand that one day I may not be here. You’ve missed so much already and you will never get this time back.”

She waited for Joe to say something, anything that could save the situation and at some points she felt like he was. But he’d then swallow the words back with a bitter taste and instead just looked at her in defeat. Nothing could save Ayanna for the despair she felt and she felt stupid even having this conversation with him. Instead, she gives him one more look over, a silent plea to say something or do something but the window of time closes as soon as she opens and she ends up turning on her feet and going to bed. She kept her room door ajar, hoping he’d come and knock, give her the tight hugs he used to give her and shower her in kisses and apologies but it never happens.

Joseph himself didn’t know what to do. They had the fairytale romance all their friends envied when they were younger, he was the promising D1 football player and she was a shoe-in to be a future Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. They looked good together and spent years in their honeymoon phase, yet somehow as they grew older the fairytale had started to wear off. He looked around the room with a frown, his stomach twisting and his heart aching as he realised exactly how much effort she had put in for their anniversary dinner and in that moment he felt like a horrible person. He knew he needed to pack as he was leaving at 5AM to get a jet for Wrestlemania but a large part of him wanted to go and fix the situation. But he knew nothing could ever fix it. They promised each other that they’d never go to bed without resolving an argument but that promise got broken several times to the point of which it no longer had any weight. So instead, Joe went into the walk-in closet and packed his things, believing that there’s nothing he could do to fix the situation.

That night, for the first time in their marriage the couple slept in separate rooms. Joe in the guest room tossing and turning in his own guilt, whilst Ayanna tried her hardest to muffle her sobs in the pillow. Her tears soaked the case through and her heart shattered in the pieces.

The next morning, Ayanna woke with the worst headache. Her head was pounding so intensely it hurt to open her eyes, however she put it down to the fact she spent all night crying and didn’t sleep. She called out for Joe, hoping he’d be home still so they could make up after their argument and wish him luck tonight as no matter what she loved him and didn’t want to continue on with another argument. But as she made it to the guest room, she realised it was too late and he was already gone. Her heart splintered like fragile glass, and she wept until the well of her tears ran dry, leaving her hollow and desolate.

“Fix your face uce.” His cousin Joshua says with a nudge. Joe having a face like a slapped ass and a snappy attitude had become too common these days and the twins, Joe’s only confidants, knew exactly what was going on. They’d grown up with Joe and practically spent their whole lives with Ayanna through her association with Joe, meaning they had been privy to almost all of the couple’s relationship issues.

“He’s right, every day you walk around here with the face you used to have when my dad used to whoop us all for breaking the window with the football.” Jonathon adds on, a small chuckle escaping from his twin brother as the memory of that day flashes through him. The twins and Joseph had grown up together due to their parents living next door to one another. Rikishi, the twin’s father and Joe’s uncle would say the twins were a bad influence. However everyone who knew them knew that it was actually Joe, he always managed to get away from it all by snitching on the boys before they could save themselves. Which is what led to all of them getting chased with a broom stick as children after Joseph broke the window as they were all playing football, but instead of admitting it he blamed the twins whilst the twins blamed him so the punishment was collective.

“Are you fighting with Yana again?” Joshua asks, earning him a dirty look from both his twin brother and Joseph as the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. The two of them somehow manage to fight more than Joshua and his baby mother, and the pair of them were never even together, just a stupid one night stand.

The pair wait for Joseph to say something but it becomes more and more obvious that he has nothing to say, but the situation is clearly bothering him. Jonathan, the self-labelled “mature” one out of the twins, felt it was best to offer some advice, even if Joe didn’t ask. “Man, I don’t know what’s going on but I know you two have been together since you were both thirteen, whatever it is you’ll make it through it. You guys have always found a way.” The advice, albeit sweet, doesn't really make a difference for Joe. But thankfully he gets called for his press conference anyway so he doesn’t have to engage in the conversation further and he shifts from vulnerable ‘Joe’ to the formidable ‘Roman,’ like a Jekyll turning into Hyde, shedding his worries and fears to become the stoic, unyielding figure everyone dreads.

Joe never really cared for press conferences, however since he was the face of the company he was obligated to fulfil every duty in his contract. He was always used to giving the cookie cutter answers to the usual questions like “what are your expectations tonight?” and “how do you feel about your opponent?” However, he gets caught off guard when someone in the crowd asks "with the demands of your career, how do you balance your professional and personal life, especially with your wife expecting?" The question then places a pang of guilt in his stomach once more as he’s forced to remember their argument from last night. He really wanted to speak to her before he left but he didn’t want to wake her up and his flight was too early for him to stay. He took a thought and tried to compose an appropriate answer before taking a small breath.

“It’s a challenge, no doubt.” He began, slightly sounding defensive whilst making sure to try and make eye contact with the journalist in the crowd to make sure he appeared engaged in the topic. “But I’ve always believed that if you’re committed to something, you find a way to make it work. My family understands what this career means to me, and I make sure to be there for them as much as I can. After tonight, I’m looking forward to some quality time with them.” The words feeling hollow knowing his home life isn’t in a good place.

At home, Ayanna rubs her temples trying to quell the headache that has seemed to intensify from earlier on. She sits on the sofa, her head spinning from the pain when a sharp, twisting pain in her abdomen causes her to shift positions. “It can't be.” she mumbles, it was too early. The twins were not meant to be due yet, she had an entire plan for Joe’s mother to come down and stay in the guest room and help her for the last week of her pregnancy up until the babies hit six months, this can’t be happening. Her phone lay on the coffee table, just out of reach. She stared at it, debating whether to call Joseph or not. But he was probably in the middle of his press conference. She didn’t want to worry him—she could handle this.

She bided her time, until the pain suddenly intensified, radiating from her abdomen up to her chest. Ayanna’s breath hitched, panic creeping in as she realised something was seriously wrong. She forced herself to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. The room spun, and she fell back onto the couch, gasping for air. She gave in and phoned Joe first, his phone going straight to voicemail as she thought before hanging up, her hands trembling as she dialled 911.“Please” she began with a gasp, struggling to even breathe, “I think something’s wrong I'm pregnant, and I—” Her voice broke off as another wave of pain hit her, harder this time as she screamed, the sound of her pained yells bouncing off the walls.

Joe, pleased with his answer to the first question, felt like he was in the clear and that would be it for the interview but then another question hit him. "There have been rumours that you were considering taking some time off after this match. Can you confirm or deny that?" The question made him feel hot under the collar, he didn’t want to give a definitive answer as Vince had already turned down his request and he didn’t want to put himself in a position that gets him in trouble. He hated it about himself and in a way he also hated Vince for putting him in this situation, however deep down he knew that he was at fault. No matter what, he was a coward and tried to avoid rocking the boat at work but all that has done is cause problems in his marriage.

He once again flashes that million dollar smile that he knew the ladies loved the most before positioning his answer. “Right now, I’m focused on tonight. Whatever comes after, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’ve heard the rumours, but my priority is to go out there, put on a hell of a show, and take care of business. The rest will fall into place." He was cool and composed, everything a champion should be, however, the answer in itself was very evasive. It was as though he had mastered the art of saying much while revealing nothing, leaving everyone guessing what truly lay beneath.

Ayanna’s vision blurred as she tried to focus on the operator’s voice. “Stay with me, ma’am, help is on the way,” the voice said, but Ayanna could barely hear it over the pounding in her head. She doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach as the baby kicked wildly inside her. Her thoughts were a jumble of fear and regret. She should have told Joseph—should have insisted he stay home. But it was too late now. The darkness at the edges of her vision crept closer, and she knew she was running out of time

Joe looked at the crowd, wanting to go backstage and get ready for his match, a sigh of relief leaving his body as he’s told this is the last question of the conference. "Any plans to celebrate after the match, or will you be rushing home to be with your family?”

Joe smiled, the question feeling so bittersweet as he’d love to have Ayanna in the crowd like she usually is tonight, but that isn’t the case. "We’ll see how the night goes. My family’s always been my anchor, so I’ll be getting back to them as soon as I can. But first, I’ve got to take care of business in that ring."The reporters nodded, satisfied with his answer. Joseph glanced at the time—just a few more minutes, and he could get back to his routine. But he had no idea that his world was about to shatter.

Ayanna’s strength was fading fast. She clutched her phone, the operator’s voice a distant echo in her ears. “Hold on, ma’am, the paramedics are almost there,” but Ayanna’s world was already slipping away.

The last thing she felt was the sharp pain in her head, then—darkness.

The crowd was electric as Joe stepped into the ring, his face stoic as he played with his wrists to loosen them up. The glamour and feel of Wrestlemania never gets old, but he stayed focused, his mind locked in on the match and his eyes focused on his opponent. He couldn’t afford any distractions - not tonight.

The bell rang, and he moved with precision, every punch, every kick calculated. He could feel the weight of the championship on his shoulders, the expectations of the fans, the promise he had made to himself to be the best. Minutes felt like seconds as the match intensified, the crowd on their feet, chanting his name. With a final, devastating move, Joseph pinned his opponent to the mat. The referee’s hand slapped the canvas—one, two, three.

The crowd booed as Joseph was declared the winner, his arm raised in victory, gutted that their golden boy Cody Rhodes had lost the title. The championship belt was handed to him, and he held it high, basking in the glory of the moment. For a few seconds, everything was perfect. But beneath the cheers and jeers, he felt an uneasy feeling run through him, it was almost as if his body was trying to warn him that this victory came at a price—one that would haunt him long after the spotlight dimmed.

After the match he walked backstage, sweat dripping down his face but a victorious smile plastered on his lips. Fellow wrestlers patted him on the back, congratulating him on another win, another title defence. He had done it again—proven why he was the best. But it didn’t feel the same without Ayanna there to give him a kiss and tell him how proud she was of him. He longed to have her sweet floral scent dancing though his nose, he simply missed her and he was going to make it his mission to call her immediately and apologise and make it up to her. In fact, he was going to ask Vince again for time off or just go to Hunter and get him to explain to Vince.

As he headed toward his locker room, he saw Vince stood them with a solemn expression. His heart dropped, usually if Vince looks at you like that you’ve done a terrible job and you’re about to be pulled off TV. “Joe, we need to talk,” he said, his voice tight with urgency.”

Joseph frowned, still riding the high of his victory. “What’s up, Vince? I’ve got some celebrating to do and I need to call my wife.”

Vince hesitated, his face pale. “Joe, it’s Ayanna… She had a stroke during labour. She had tried to call you as she was going into labour but you were in the press conference.”

The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. “What?” he whispered, his heart plummeting. “No… no, that can’t be right.” His mind scrambled to reject what he’d just heard, clinging to disbelief as though it could keep the truth at bay.

Vince’s eyes were filled with sorrow as he continued, “I haven’t heard anything else, however I would suggest that you take the jet and go to the hospital now. We will cover you in the post match press conference.” The championship belt slipped from Joseph’s grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The noise of the backstage area faded into nothingness as Joseph stood frozen, disbelief and horror washing over him.

Joseph’s heart pounds as he bursts through the hospital doors, the sounds of WrestleMania’s victory still ringing in his ears. But as he’s confronted by the white walls of the ICU, his triumph feels meaningless, distant. Joseph’s hands trembled as he pushed through the hospital doors, his mind a whirl of fear and denial. He moved as if in a trance, barely registering the people around him as he demanded to be taken to Ayanna.

“Where’s Ayanna? Where are my kids?” he demands, his voice edged with panic.

The receptionist’s eyes flickered with sorrow, looking around in desperation as she did not want to be the one to be here when the news was broken to him. Luckily for her, the doctor steps forward. “Mr. Anoa’i, I’m so sorry. Your wife suffered a massive stroke shortly after going into labour. By the time she got here, there was nothing we could do to reverse the damage. Her brain activity ceased before we could save her.”

Joseph’s breath catches, his world starting to crumble. “What… what do you mean? Where is she? Can I see her?” His voice wavered, a desperate plea for a reality that was slipping through his fingers.

The doctor hesitates, his tone measured but heavy. “We had to make a decision quickly, Mr. Anoa’i. We kept her on life support long enough to deliver the twins via emergency C-section. It was the only way to save their lives.”

For a moment, Joseph just stares, unable to comprehend the words. “You… you kept her alive just to deliver the babies?” His voice is raw with disbelief and rising fury. He couldn’t believe what was being said to him, Ayanna being reduced to a baby making machine made him feel beyond sick. They could’ve had another baby, but he could never have another Ayanna. “She wasn’t just some fucking incubator! She was my wife! She is my wife, why didn’t you save her?!”

The doctor’s eyes hold steady, though full of sympathy. “She made that decision herself. Your wife signed an advanced directive, instructing us to prioritise the babies if anything went wrong. She knew the risks and chose this course.”

The words hit Joseph like a sledgehammer. Ayanna had known this could happen and made a decision without him—a decision that had ripped her from his life. Anger surged and then ebbed away, leaving a hollow ache where it had been. He had spent his life with her, and now, learning to live without her seemed an insurmountable challenge, a cruel twist of fate.

“Where are they?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, eyes vacant.

One of the nurses gently guides him to the room where the newborns lie in their incubators. They’re tiny, fragile, and perfect. But as Joseph looks at them, he’s overwhelmed not with the joy he expected but with a deep, unsettling mix of sorrow and resentment. They’re here, alive and breathing, but Ayanna is gone. She sacrificed herself for them, and Joseph can’t help but feel a stab of resentment toward these tiny beings who cost him everything. He stands over the incubators, his hands shaking as he touches the glass. The twins stir slightly, their small cries echoing in the sterile room, but all Joseph feels is an unbearable, suffocating grief—and an anger he can’t reconcile. Whilst he was angry at the world, he was also mad at himself. What sick bastard resents an innocent child? He thought, trying to force the feeling out of his heart, but it was no use. He just couldn't stop himself being filled with disgust when he looked at them, especially as they both look exactly like her. It felt like some cruel punishment from the universe for his wrongdoing.

Finally, he forces himself to pick up one of the babies, holding the child close to his chest. The warmth of his newborn is supposed to bring him comfort, but instead, it feels like a weight pressing down on him, reminding him of what he’s lost. Tears blur his vision as he collapses into a nearby chair, the sound of the twins’ cries filling his ears. But instead of the joy and love he once imagined, all Joseph can feel is a hollow emptiness and a dark, creeping resentment that only deepens his guilt. The nurse gently touched his shoulder, but Joseph barely noticed. He sank into a chair, the twins still wailing in his arms, as tears streamed down his face. The world had stopped making sense. He had won the match, but in doing so, had lost everything that truly mattered, as if triumph had come at the cost of his very soul.

#roman reigns #liyah’s literature #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black oc #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wwe imagine #wwe x black oc #whatoncewas

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sfhvn-alltheas · 2 months ago

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An open letter to Netflix and for everyone who feels the same

I would like to apologize in advance for any linguistic errors, English is not my native language, but I will do my best to express my concerns appropriately.

I am reaching out to you to express my deep disappointment at your cancellation of Dead Boy Detectives. The news of your decision hit me hard and I would like to ask you to reconsider. I understand that Netflix is a company that is about money, about numbers, about streams, about performance. It is a business and the decisions are based not on emotions but on lucrative fundamentals.

We all know that.

But this cannot work in the long term, not without an outcry from your viewers. Because what you do is selling dreams. You might not see us, but we are here, we are being absorbed into the alternative realities you have created. We live these dreams you sold us.

You know this, you know that you mostly produce more than just mindless entertainment that is subsequently forgotten, and that is exactly why I feel so let down by you. You are aware that our hearts and souls are attached to these characters, that’s what you want and it totally makes sense. Because whoever is emotional involved stays long term. A show can be so many different things for different people: a place of well-being, comfort, escapism, distraction, mental support, self-discovery. Queer and inclusive programs in particular help people and make them feel seen, understood and accepted. A show can be the only light in a darkness that so many people find themselves in today. A show with their characters can save lives.

How then do only numbers decide whether something continues or not?

You, as the producer of dreams, have a responsibility to us. Money and numbers should be secondary in your industry. Feel free to call me naive, I am, I like to be, I have to be in this world, but I believe in humanity, in the values that you claim to represent. Not every show can bring in billions. Not all of them can be Wednesday, Squid Game or Bridgerton. Not within fourteen days, not without support. With your impatience, you are depriving great shows of the chance to grow and, over time, attract the viewership that meets your expectations. What I'm trying to express here isn't only about Dead Boy Detectives. It's a fundamental problem.

I am not okay with this

Julie and the Phantoms

The OA

The Society

1899

Six of Crows

Shadow and Bone

Archive 81

Lockwood & Co.

Glamorous

Half Bad: The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself

First Kill

Inside Job

Midnight Club

Warrior Nun

- just to name a few. All this shows have met the same fate, they all were cancelled too soon and never got the chance to grow, to become a next Stranger Things, the next slowburn success.

This has to stop! Imagine having cancelled Stranger Things after one season back in the days. What you would have missed! Instead, you give up on shows too easily without hesitation and disappoint the very people who could have been your allies in the effort to bring the next success.

I honestly don't understand that. And it's not fair either. Not to us, not to the creators and actors who gave their everything. You should trust them to be capable of creating something epic if only they had a little more time.

I'll tell you how it is: The news that Dead Boy Detectives had been cancelled is devastating. My life pretty much sucks for a few years now and there is little to nothing that still brings me joy. A second season has been the only thing I've been looking forward to these past few months, the anticipation has been the reason I'm still here. You took that away from me. From all of us that are like me. Now I’m sitting here and write this letter, hoping to save the show that has given me so much confidence and joy and meaning, visibility and understanding that it's okay to be who I am. It's not fair that I have to fight to keep this precious show instead of enjoying it while I deal with the wreckage of my life.

If you don't understand that what you're doing is impacting so many people, then maybe you shouldn't be selling dreams. Better sell electronics.

I won't stop fighting for what means so much to me. It's not too late yet, you can at least right the wrong you did with Dead Boy Detectives. Please do it, give Dead Boy Detectives another chance. We, the viewers, deserve it, the creators and actors deserve it, and most of all the show itself deserves it because it is the greatest thing I have seen in many years.

Thank you for your time and for considering my request.

#save dead boy detectives #The OA #I am not okay with this #julie and the phantoms #the society #1899 netflix #six of crows #shadow and bone #Archive 81 #lockwood and co #glamorous #the bastard son & the devil himself #First kill #Inside Job #Midnight Club #warrior nun #dead boy detectives

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zialltops · 9 months ago

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

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