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love4pascal · 18 days ago

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I’ll Say, Will You Marry Me?

Joel Miller x F!reader.

A/n: Okay never did I think that after I posted my first fic that people would like it as much as you did. I honestly wrote the first part as a one shot and I had no intention on writing another part but I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it so much that you requested a part 2. SO HERE IT IS!

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fluff, pure bliss, and these two being stupidly In love.

|Part One Here| |Series Masterlist|

August 23, 2008.

Joel grabbed the last box from the moving truck, walking up the hot pavement and entering the home.

Placing the last box in Joel’s bedroom; a part of you felt like this was a dream, you were dating your best friend and now you living with him?

It felt to good to be true. The most loving and caring man you were once just friends, who now you’ll kiss goodnight.

“Who’s up for some good ol’ hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner?” Joel asked both you and sarah.

“Fine by me, dad!” She yelled from the staircase, on her way to her bedroom.

Joel turning his focus on you now.

“I’ll help you.” On your way to the kitchen to grab the hamburgers and hotdogs.

Joel stood at the back door for a few seconds more, admiring the woman he loved, before he even knew he’d loved her.

And god was he ecstatic to know that he’d get to wake up with you next to him.

After eating dinner outside, you, Joel, and Sarah cleaned everything up.

When done with that, Sarah suggested that there should be a ‘Miller movie night’.

Cuddled up with Joel and Sarah under a plaid blanket, watching “Twilight”, which Joel asked manny questions about.

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s how old?!” He asked Sarah.

“He’s 104.” She says, eyes remaining on the tv.

“Oh.. so he’s just going after a seventeen year old like thats perfectly okay?” He spoke looking at you and Sarah, seeing both of you hysterically laughing at him.

“What? Why are you guys laughing??” He says sitting up.

An hour into the movie, Sarah was passed out. You grabbed the remote off the table and pressed the red button, the room went black.

Joel moving the blanket off of Sarah before picking her up and carrying her to bed.

Folding the blanket and placing it in the basket next to the tv stand.

Walking up the stairs to Joel’s bedroom, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt you had stole from him and pulling on black pajama pants before finding joel in the ensuite bathroom.

Bare chest and gray pajama pants, brushing his teeth. Coming up behind him and resting your cheek on his back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Running his toothbrush under the facet water before putting the protective cap over the bristles and setting it in the holder.

“Nothing, I’ve just never been this happy.” Laying a kiss on his shoulder.

You catch his smile through the mirror before he’s turning and throwing you over his shoulder.

There’s hushed laughs released from both of you.

He sets you on the bed, leaning down to capture your soft lips in his.

Your legs find themselves around his waist as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Can I take this off.?” He tugged at the bottom of your shirt.

“Yes.” Helping him take off your shirt, the shirt being tossed somewhere in the room.

He unclasps your bra.

He pressed a trail of hot, soft kisses to your neck, his mouth tracing over your skin and down as his mouth finds your nipple.

You moan softly as his lips meet your midriff, his tongue swirls around your skin, making you squirm in desire and need.

Joel briefly removes his lips from your midriff with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva had been left, but quickly broke when your back arched; urging for Joel to continue.

Joel’s warm hands wander down, inching closer to your heated core, you’re getting wetter by the second.

Your hands scamper around, finding solace in Joel’s hair whilst he spreads your folds through your panties. His finger slowly, rubbing up and down. You gasp at the contact.

He continues to rub circles onto your clit, sometimes back and forth — almost tauntingly.

“Honey…Please don’t tease me,” you muttered weakly, getting lost in the near pleasure he gives you.

The chuckle Joel lets out is dark, a contrast to the soft airy kisses he rested upon your plump lips.

“What’d I tell you about patience, darlin’?” Joel murmurs against your pouting lips, he kisses you again, but there’s more force behind it. Your teeth clatter against his as his fingers pick up their pace.

Joel groans as you tug on his brunette tufts of hair. Joel then inserts two lengthy digits into your hole, making you cry out. To who exactly? You’re not even sure. You can’t be, not when his beard scratches your face just right, and his fingers model a ‘come hither’ motion inside of you.

Joel nips your lips before lowering his head to your pussy. He wastes no time in absolutely devouring you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, almost trying to get him closer.

He’s licking and sucking everywhere, all you can do is mewl out to him, letting out several ‘fuck, Joel!’s and even a ‘it feels so good!’.

His nose bumps your clit as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. “H-holy shit Joel! Right there baby!” You exclaim, voice cracking due to the strain.

You tightly wrap your thighs around his head, nearly suffocating him; just the way he likes it. “Baby..Baby! I’m-I’m so…” Your voice gives out, reducing to nothing but a whimper. Joel can tell you’re close.

He then pops back up from your legs, beaming at you proudly as you’re spread out for him.

You whine due to the lack of contact, Joel bends a bit to kiss your shoulder.

“Awe,” he drags out, “Don’t worry, peaches. Y’know I’m gonna take care of ya.” His southern drawl makes you ache for him.

Joel’s hands push down his pants painfully slow, he’s toying with you on purpose, but you love every second.

His thumb hooks around his boxers, allowing him to remove his sweatpants alongside them in one go.

Seeing him completely bare takes away the cold you feel due to the slight chill of the room. He’s breathtaking, you don’t know how else to describe it.

“Yeah? You think so honey?” His grin is nothing short of a cheshire.

You gape at him, not realizing that you actually said that out loud, but before you can think about it too much, Joel’s sliding his pink tip against your folds.

Your chest is heaving, you’re antsy and Joel finds it delicious.

“Y’ready peach?”

“Always.” You reassure with a slight nod.

Then, Joel pushes his cock into you, you swear you can count every inch entering you.

He pulls out almost entirely, then slams back into you. A choked gasp leaves your throat while Joel starts to find his pace.

Your nails find their place on Joel’s back, scratching deeply in satisfaction.

“Y-Yeah..That’s it darlin’. Squeeze me just like that.” Joel manages to groan through his gritted teeth.

His hips slap against yours, and you both are chest-to-chest. He can feel your breasts bounce up and down against him due to the force, and it nearly makes his mouth water.

Joel reaches his hand up, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, murmuring, “You’re s’pretty, baby.”

“Ha-ah. I’m cumming, Joel!” Your voice remains somewhat hushed, but you can’t help but get louder as you get closer and closer.

“C’mon, peach. Joel’s gotcha, go ahead ‘n give it t’me.” Joel moans at the feeling of you clenching oh so sweetly around him.

Your back arches off the bed, Joel’s arms wrap around your frame to hold you, as you find your release.

You continue to squeeze Joel’s cock as you come down from your high, and you feel him twitch inside of you, signaling to you that he’s close as well.

His head rests in the crook of your shoulder, making it more than easy to whisper to him, “Cum for me baby.”

You feel spurts of his warm seed shoot inside of you as Joel lets out an earth-shattering groan.

He lays on you for a few minutes, regaining his bearings, before flipping down onto the bed next to you.

“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Joel slurs, moving his head slightly so he can get a good look at you. You’re both disheveled and sweaty, chests rising then falling just as quickly.

“So I’ve heard.” You smirk at him cockily, making him chuckle and shake his head playfully.

“Mhm…Let’s get you cleaned up, peach.” He kisses you again then picks you up bridal style, you giggle and hold onto him tightly as he walks you to the bathroom.

December 30, 2009.

“And you’re okay with this.?” Joel was at the edge of his seat fidgeting with the black ring box, it was important to ask Sarah for her permission about proposing to you.

Sarah was Joel’s first priority, he’d never want Sarah to be uncomfortable or unhappy in her own space.

“Dad, you know I love her like how I love you. I’m 100% okay with you asking her to marry you.” She grabs at her father’s hand.

“Plus It’d be nice to have another girl in this house.” She pokes her dad before giggling.

“I’m glad to hear that baby girl.” He pulls his chair closer to hers, engulfing his daughter into a tight embrace.

June 22, 2010.

You and Joel had been dating for 2 years and you couldn’t be anymore happier than you are now.

Your nights in the Miller residence always consisted with either a movie night in the living room, or playing board games before bed.

Tonight consisted of a certain Miller taking you to a fancy restaurant. Joel had told you earlier that morning that Tommy had offered to watch Sarah so that you two could have a nice dinner by yourselves.

.. Without hearing about a classmate who throws pencils across the classroom and is rude to their teacher.

You had gotten home before Joel so you decided to start getting dressed, you wanted time to be able to do your hair and finalize your outfit without feeling rushed.

You and Joel had waited for a reservation at this restaurant for months and you two weren’t gonna be late either.

After picking out a white floral sundress and doing your hair and makeup, you head downstairs to hangout with Sarah as you wait on Joel and Tommy.

30 minutes later Joel was walking through the front door in a new pair of jeans and a white short-sleeve linen button up and a bouquet of flowers.

Followed by the young miller brother who was the babysitter of the night.

“Hey darlin’.” he greeted you with a small smile.

You stand up to meet him halfway, taking ahold of the bouquet.

“Joel these are beautiful!” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder of dismissal of your thanks.

“I knew you said something about these flowers not too long ago, saw a guy selling them near a site I was working at. Couldn’t help but think of you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller.” You smile, before walking to the kitchen and looking for a vase.

Placing the flowers into the vase that now sat of the dining room table, walking back to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured to you, brushing his down your arm as he glanced at the dress you had on.

You’d picked it out for this occasion, the soft white material making you feel soft and beautiful.

“Thank you! You clean up nice too..” you giggled at your tease, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek before taking his hand into yours. You were eager to get to the restaurant; you’d been waiting to try this particular place for ages and finally you had got a reservation."

Before leaving the comfort of your home, you said goodbye to both Sarah and Tommy.

“Don’t do anything irresponsible.” You pointed at Tommy. “I know you’re 26 years old but still, I’d like to come home to the house in one piece.” Before pulling him into a hug.

“Sarah, please watch uncle Tommy.” Sarah laughs at your comment about her uncle.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior!” She giggled and pulled you into a small hug.

Walking over to Joel, who’s stood at the front door.

Sarah runs over to her dad before capturing him is a tight embrace.

“Bye dad, have fun!” She said as he moved her curls behind her ear.

“I will babygirl, be on your best behavior for uncle Tommy, okay? Patting her head.

“Okay dad!” He kissed her cheek and you and Joel walked out the house.

You walked to the passenger side of Joel truck, before Joel approached you, watching as he reached down to open the passenger door for you and held it open, standing back for you to get inside.

“Well thank you.” He grinned, smiling as you got in.

“No problem darlin'. ” softly closing the truck door, walking around the baby blue truck and hoping into the driver side.

The truck engine lightly roaring as Joel started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Soft music plays as you turn the corner and enter the main road.

The restaurant is elegant, with dim lighting that casts a romantic glow over the patrons. Soft jazz plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance

“Name under the reservation.?” The young blonde asked Joel.

“Uh, Joel Miller.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. Which was a nervous tic for Joel that you’d picked up on over the years.

“If you want to follow me this way, I can take you straight to your table.” She grabbed two menus and a specials menu before walking you two outside.

“Ladies first.” He motioned in front of him.

“Such a gentleman Joel miller.” Smiling softly before quickly grabbing at his hand and pulling him behind you.

Sitting down at much fancier tables than the one you and Joel had in your dining room. Beautiful black and gold menus with intricate letters, placed neatly on the table beside the spoon, knife and forks wrapped in nice fabric.

"Can I get you guys something to start with? drinks? maybe an appetizer?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine." the young waitress quickly wrote your drink down on her note pad.

"ill have a glass of water.. oh and can I have a lemon on the side?" Joel anxiously tapping his fingers on fabric covers wood.

"yeah, of course. I'll be right out with your drinks!"

“I heard they have really good steak.” he quirked his eyebrow.

“You’re gonna turn into a steak.” laughing a little too loud for this kinda restaurant, not before looking around to see if anyone was looking at you like you had two heads.

The young waitress, Brooke, which you had read from her name tag, came back with the three drinks.

“Thank you.” the both of you said reaching for the drinks.

“Are you guys ready to order, or do you need more time to think?” it was almost telepathically telling Joel that you were ready to order if he was.

“Yeah, we’re ready to order.” both telling her what you’d want off the menu.

“I'll have the steak, medium rare, with broccoli and mash potatoes.” he says as he hands the menu to the waitress.

“I'll have grilled chicken with mushrooms, and broccoli and mashed potatoes, please.” following what Joel did, and handing her the menu.

“Alright. I’ll get those right out for you both.” Joel watches as the waitress leaves, his gaze returning back to the woman sitting in front of him.

“What are you looking at?” you tease.

“What, can’t a man take a moment to admire how beautiful his girlfriend and best friend looks?”

“Joel Miller, you're a very cheesy man.”

After placing the order for the food, conversation engulfed the both of you.

Twenty minutes flew by and food was finally on its way to your table.

The waitress placed the meals in front of you, and waved down another waitress to refill your wine glasses.

The both of you half way done your food, feeling too to finish what was left on your plates.

“Joel this was really nice, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”

“Well I'm glad you had a good time, my peach!” reaching for your hand from across the table.

“I got one more thing to show you tonight.” he grinned

“Oh yeah?” You watched as he flagged down the waitress for the check.

After Paying the check, you and Joel walked down what Texans called the ‘Texas boardwalk’, down to the sand to watch the sunset.

You two sat down on the soft but grainy sand, listening to the waves crash together, in blissful peace.

“I feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” Looking at the man beside you.

“That’s weird because.. I was just about to say the same thing.” His chocolate brown eyes are finally finding yours.

“Yeah, that’s so strange? It’s like we’re meant to be or something??” Letting a soft giggle out.

“I want to show you something.” Before even realizing what he said, he was standing up somewhat quickly (old man lol) and grabbing your hand to pull you up with him.

“Of course!” He was pulling you along, whatever it was he was bursting with excitement.

“Joel, baby slow down, whatever it is you want to show me will still be there in a few minutes.” You laugh at his eagerness.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just really excited to show you.” He slowed down a little bit and you were still kinda jogging.

“Okay we’re almost there but I need to blindfold you.?” He said nervously.

“Okay.?” Closing your eyes as the cold feeling of the blindfold covered your eyes.

Joel grabbed both of your hands to guide you to wherever he was taking you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing ahold of where he tied the blindfold.

“Yes?” He slowly pulled on the blindfold. The millions of candles were making it hard to focus on the big sign that said ‘will you marry me’.

There was Tommy and Sarah standing by the sign smiling all bright.

“You two!” You laughed pointing at them.

You walked closer, the word on the sign finally clicking.

“Are you being serious??” Shocked was the only emotion you had right now.

“Yes baby.” He smiled, getting down on one knee.

“Oh my.” Tears were forming, hands were shaking, your emotions were everywhere.

“Peach, ever since I’ve known you, you have always been the light to my darkness. You were there to help me with Sarah, you were there when I could barely keep the light on, you have been my rock for all of these years. Two years ago when we decided to take our relationship to the next level and start dating was one of the best days of my life. Not much changed, and I think that’s what amazes me everyday. So I’m asking, will you marry me, peach?” He said as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, before opening the box and pulling out the ring.

“Yes, Joel miller I will marry you.” Tears are falling down your face as you hold your ring finger out, while he slides it on.

Not before he quickly gets up and picks you up, spinning around before pulling you into a kiss.

Joel slowly places you down as Sarah comes over and wraps her hands around both of you.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” She said tears softly falling down her cheeks.

“Thank you babygirl.” You said as you rubbed her back to comfort her.

Tommy walked over to embrace his older brother in celebration.

“Congrats brother, you're finally getting married!” He said, patting his big brother in the back.

“Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and Sarah helping me set this all up.” He smiled at his younger brother.

“Anytime.” Smiling at his brother. “Go back to your kid and your fiancée, I’m gonna load this stuff up in the truck.”

“Alright, holler if you need help!” Joel yelled towards Tommy.

After helping Tommy load the stuff in the back of his truck, the rest of the miller family headed home.

You, Joel and Sarah hooped into your pajamas and watch a new movie on the couch.

You cuddled up against Joel and Sarah cuddled up against you.

“Im so happy that I’m gonna be able to marry you.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Weird, I was just about to say the same thing.” He smiled.

And before you all knew it, the whole miller family was peaceful asleep on the couch.

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squeesquoo · 6 days ago

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We have about 1 month left until Sonic 3 comes out, and I'm super excited!! I've been counting down the days ever since the release date was announced, back in August of 2022!

Anyway, here's this little redraw challenge I decided to try out!

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boldlyvoid · 1 year ago

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Love Story

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: About a week into knowing her, Spencer knew he wanted to marry her one day. So, for her birthday, at The Eras Tour, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring...

Warnings: allusions to sex, stupid couple fights, Spencer spoiling her, roadtrips, food and drink mention, talks of the future (future kids) proposals.

a/n: this fic is for my best friend in the whole worlds birthday. @reidsbookclub, i love you, i hope you have the best time at your concert tonight <3

Word Count: 6k

Set in the Sweet Nothing Universe

He’s been in Reno for 3 months and dating Y/N for 3 months now, too.

They practically live together now that it’s summer vacation for her. She took on some kids for tutoring, and she sees them a few hours a week whenever they have time. She mostly goes to their houses or meets them at the public library, which is right next door to his work. She brings him in a coffee or a snack whenever she’s in town, they have lunches together and she even stays a little longer in town so she can drive him home afterwards.

It’s been wonderful.

Everyone at work knows her, they call her Mrs. Reid as a joke and she thinks it's cute… Spencer, on the other hand, wishes she was his wife so, so bad. It’s way too early to ask her, even if he knows in his heart that she’s the one for him. So he’s waiting. He’s not sure how long he’ll wait. He doesn’t even know if she wants to get married one day. He still has some things to learn about her.

Her birthday is coming up, soon, he knows that much. He actually learned about her birthday when Penelope was first telling him all about her. August 4th, making her a Leo, the lion sign, even though she’s as gentle as a flower.

They haven’t planned anything for her birthday yet, it's still a couple of weeks away. He knows she’s told her kids that she’ll be busy from the 3rd to the 6th, taking 4 days just to herself, she wasn’t planning on doing anything. Spencer wants to treat her to something so bad. Be it a nice dinner, a gift she wants or a trip somewhere. So he takes those 4 days off too, he books it in advance with his boss, it’s approved and now he just has to plan something.

During one of his lunch breaks that she isn’t sitting in on, he takes out his phone and calls up Penelope. Having known Y/N longer, she’s the perfect person to discuss ideas with.

“Spencer my lovely! What are you doing calling me at 3pm on a weekday?” She answers full of cheer.

“Y/N’s birthday is coming up, I need your expert advice on what to get her,” he heads right into it, skipping all the niceties, he only cares about her.

“Taylor Swift tickets, duh!”

“I tried that months ago, they sold out way too fast,” he complains. “We missed the Vegas show 'cause I obviously didn’t know her in March, all she has left are the Seattle and California shows… but again, they’re all sold out and the resale tickets are insane.”

“Hey, six grand for 2 tickets with the love of your life is so worth it,” Penelope teases. “I might have a connection to the Inglewood show… maybe I can see if they have any last-minute tickets?”

“How do you have a ticket connection?”

“My brother's wife works for Ticketmaster, she said they save some tickets for important people until the last minute and if they’re not taken, they get released to the general public and you can get better deals if you call Ticketmaster instead of going online,” she explains. “I’ll give her a call, I’ll see what she can do.”

“Okay, call me back when you know more?”

“Will do, Spence-roo,” she says before hanging up, making him smile.

—

He goes home to Y/N’s apartment that night, they have a home-cooked meal together and they settle down on the couch to watch something on TV and just relax for the rest of the night.

She’s cuddled into Spencer’s side watching TikTok on her phone. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, barely watching anything for more than 30 seconds and then she stops on one. Spencer can hear the music and the cheering, it’s a tour video. He peeks over to it, watching as someone proposed to their girlfriend in the middle of Love Story.

She likes it, opens the comments and congratulated them. The next words out of his mouth are barely in his control. They just tumble out.

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

She smiles up at him, “To you? Absolutely.”

He pulls her in for a kiss. She locks her phone and tosses it to the side so she can climb into his lap and kiss him some more. His hands migrate to her hips, and she runs her fingers through his ever-growing hair. Making out with her on the couch, she lightly grinds against him, he hums into the kiss, breaking it to kiss her jaw along to her ear.

“I’d want to marry you too…”

She cups his face, staring him down, “Ask me whenever you’re ready.”

“It’s not too soon?”

She shakes her head, “No… I mean, people will probably think you knocked me up because of how fast we’ve moved but, it’s been 3 months. We know everything about each other, we sleep beside each other every single night, and I never want to break up with you. The next logical move would be to get married.”

He steals another kiss, “I think,” he kisses her again on her jaw again, making his way down her neck, “You’re right.”

She smiles, letting him go down to her boobs, “about people thinking you got me knocked up?”

He laughs against her, “I mean, we fuck so often—

“No, don’t even joke,” she pulls his attention back to her. “You can’t get me pregnant just randomly, I don’t have enough money to pay for my substitute. You’d have to knock me up so I can have the baby in the summer…”

He laughs, “You’re not serious, right?”

“I’m completely serious. I don’t get maternity leave, I have to have summer babies if I want to keep my job.”

“I have money,” he reminds her. “If we get married it becomes our money, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.”

She settles slightly, her shoulders drop again and she stares at him so softly, “I’d still worry, you know me.”

He kisses her again, reaching up to brush her hair back, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life… and if we ever had kids, you know I’d do the same for them.”

“Do you want kids, like genuinely?” She asks. “Cause I know you love Henry and you said that you thought about having them with Maeve but—

“I want you to have my babies… whenever you’re ready,” he tosses the phrase back to her.

That does it, she dives back in for another kiss, heating it up tenfold, he cradles her head and back, leaning down against the couch so he can hover over her. Working the button on her jeans open, he starts to tug on them when his phone rings. He wants to just let it ring, but it’s Penelope's ringtone. He hasn’t changed it, no matter how long he hasn’t worked with her, it’s still the same thing.

“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to pull away.

“Leave it,” she tugs him back in. She gets a few more kisses in and then he pulls back further.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he reaches out to grab his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the apartment to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” Penelope answers. “But I have good news. We were able to pull some strings and I got you 2 floor tickets for the 4th.”

“No way?” He’s gobsmacked.

“Way!! I gave her your information, the tickets are in your name and they’re being mailed to you so you’ll have physical tickets. You can just pay me back.”

“What was the damage?”

“they were $1800 each…”

“That’s a lot better than the resale price,” he’s so glad. “Thank you, Penny, really, she’s going to love this.”

“Hey, she was my friend first, I’d do anything for her,” Penny teases. “Now go back to hanging out with her, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“thank you, we love you,” he reminds her.

“I love you too!” And then she’s gone.

He heads back inside and she’s no longer on the couch. The tv is off, all the lights are out, and she’s retreated back to the bedroom. He knocks before he enters, “Hey… sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she says, clearly a bit upset. “I get it, works more important that me sometimes.”

“No, no it’s not… and that wasn’t work.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t.”

He timidly walks towards her, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I know. But it was important… it’s for your birthday, that’s all I can say.”

She bites back a smile, looking him dead in the eyes. “Really?”

He nods, “You still have from the 3rd to the 6th off, right?”

She nods, “I do… why?”

“I’ll tell you more when the day gets closer, just, don’t plan anything, I want to make this special. This is our first birthday together, I want to celebrate you.”

“Okay, you’re forgiven,” she gives in, she rushes over to him and tosses her arms around his neck. “But next time it rings and you’re about to go down on me, it can wait.”

“It definitely can,” he agrees, picking her up, he tosses her onto the bed. “Let me make it up to you.”

—

She watches the era’s tour live streams on TikTok every weekend, she favourites outfits that she’d want to wear and she tells Spencer all about the surprise songs that she’d want to hear live one day.

What she doesn’t know is that Spencer has memorized everything she��s said and he’s been using it to his advantage. He’s found her Pinterest board with eras tour dream outfits, and he’s made a playlist of her favourite songs so he’ll be able to sing along no matter what surprise songs happen. And he’s started to buy tour outfits for himself too.

He puts a lot of work into her tour outfit, too. It’s midnights themed, he got her a denim jacket with the back panel cut out and replaced with a starry lace pattern. He bought iron on paper and printed out her favourite lyrics to iron onto the arms and put stars on a pair of dark blue Converse. He’s even been making friendship bracelets while on his lunch break at work. He just hasn’t been able to decide on what to get her to wear under the jacket and with the shoes. Nothing seems to be perfect enough.

He’s walking home from work one night when he passes a window display full of sparkly dresses. He just doesn’t want to get her the wrong size. So he has the bright idea to take one of Y/N's dresses with him to the store to compare sizes. Trying to steal one of her dresses… that’s going to be difficult.

“I have a question for you,” he asks that night at dinner. “But you can’t ask any follow-up questions or anything, okay?”

“Alright..?”

“Can I have one of your dresses to compare to a dress I want to buy you for your birthday?”

She swoons, “Yeah… or you could take my measurements?”

“Either way, I just want to make sure it fits.”

And so that night she gives him one of her favourite dresses. She tells him the size she prefers in different fabrics and he makes a mental note of every single thing she says.

The next day, he brings the dress to work with him, people want to ask questions but they don’t. He makes it through the day, walks out of work with the dress and right into the store he saw yesterday.

The shop owner clocks him right away, noticing the dress, she thinks he’s making a return.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’m surprising my girlfriend with Taylor Swift tickets for her birthday and I’m trying to plan her outfit, too, and the dress in the window is perfect! I brought in one of her other dresses, just to compare sizing so I get it right,” he explains.

“Oh my god, aren’t you the dream boyfriend?” She teases. “Can I see that?”

He places it on the counter for her, she takes a look at the tag and holds it up, “I think I have the window dress in this size… what era are you going for?”

“I made her a jacket in the Midnights aesthetic and her shoes are evermore,” he shares. “The dress in the window is kinda mirrorball-esque, I like it.”

“You know your shit,” she can’t believe it. “Do you have an outfit picked out?”

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t decide if I want to do fearless or lover…”

“You could do both, get a puffy Romeo shirt and some pink pants, that would be cute?”

“Yeah, yeah I like that idea… you know the Lover album cover, the heart she has around her eye? How would I do that?” He asks, he hasn’t had someone to talk to about any of this, so he’s taking a chance and asking everything.

She’s really helpful, she’s able to get him the dress in the right size, show him where he can get adhesive sparkles for the face, helps him plan his own outfit and even get some accessories too. He spends a fair bit of money in her store and he thanks her.

“I’m going to bring her back here after the tour, maybe she can get her engagement party dress here,” he suggests.

“Wait, are you going to ask her to marry you at the show?”

He nods, “During love story.”

“She’s one lucky girl,” the shop owner swoons again. She’s overjoyed for them. “If you bring her back here for that I’ll give you a discount, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. I really hope she says yes.”

“Me too.”

—

He stole a piece of her costume jewelry when she wasn’t looking, a ring she typically wears on her right ring finger and brings it with him to all the jewelry shops he goes to. Finding a ring that feels like Y/N is hard. He wants it to be perfect, he wants it to be big and pretty and something she’ll show off to everyone. He wants it to be a ring that will stay in style for the next 50 years, he wants it to last.

He’s looked at a million styles, every colour and cut imaginable… but nothing seems right. He knows the kind of rings she likes from her Pinterest, but even they don’t seem to fit what he imagines for them. This ring is supposed to symbolize their love and their relationship. It has to be perfect.

He finds the ring on Etsy of all places. It was his last chance to get a ring. There were only 2 weeks until her birthday and he had to make sure the ring was in his possession before they took their trip to LA.

The ring comes in two parts, one ring for the engagement and the other for the wedding. The wedding band perfectly encompasses the engagement ring, making the main ring look like it has little leaves coming out from around it.

He gets them in white gold, the main stone is a man-made, oval-shaped diamond and the stones around it are man-made opal, 4 on each side to be exact, shaped like little diamonds. The wedding band also has man-made stones, in green. Together, they look perfect. He has them expedited, he pays the artist top dollar to make sure they’re at his house by August 1st and he prays they make it.

—

She picks him up after work on July 31st and when they arrive at his house, there’s a package sitting on his front step. Part of him is furious that they just left it, they didn’t leave a drop-off notice and take it back to the UPS store for safekeeping, the rest of him is relieved that it made it. Y/N on the other hand, is nosey. She wants to know what he ordered. She’s curious as to why he didn’t want to open it in front of her, but she doesn’t bring it up again once he hides it in his room.

They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she wraps her arms around him, stands on her tip-toes and rests her head on his shoulder to watch him stir around the pan. “Can I ask a question about my birthday?” She pries slightly.

“Depends on the question.”

“Do I have to pack a bag or anything?” She asks the first question.

“Yeah… I got us an Airbnb for the few days we’re taking off work,” he explains, not giving away too much.

“Okay, and what should I pack?”

“Underwear, pyjamas, comfy clothes,” he lists off a few things. “Makeup and whatever you want to do with your hair… I’m going to tell you what’s happening the day of, you’ll have a few hours to plan for each event.”

“Each event?” She picks that out.

He just nods, “You’ll find out more later.”

“Fine,” she sighs, resting her chest against his back now, she holds him tighter. “I’m going to go all out for your birthday too, you know.”

“I know… we’re kind of obsessed with each other,” he teases.

“I think it’s called love,” she reminds him.

“You’re right… I do love you a lot,” he says as he spins around in her grip and hugs her close, kissing her neck gently. “I love you so much.”

She hums happily, “I love you too, sneaky man. It’s killing me that I don’t know what’s happening but I trust you.”

“Good,” he pulls back and cups her cheek. “How would you feel leaving late on the 2nd instead of early on the 3rd?”

“We can do that, I know you prefer driving at night,” she knows him well. “We can pack after work and leave once we’re done.”

“I will be packed the day before,” he teases. “I’m not a last-minute man.”

“Oh, I know, you don’t do anything lightly, but I might need help packing,” she reminds him. “You can help me pick out accessories and shoes to match whatever you got me.”

“You think I didn't get you shoes and accessories? Have you seen me?” He teases, that’s one thing she loves about him. He’s always matching.

She just laughs, “Of course you did.”

—

Spencer walks from his apartment to hers with 2 suitcases, one for his own things and one just for their eras tour outfits. He has her second key fob, so he unlocks her car when he arrives and puts his things in the backseat and heads up to her apartment. He knocks once but ultimately lets himself in. “Babe?”

“Bedroom!” She calls back, letting him know where she is.

“Hey…”

“So I’ve played out a bunch of outfits, what ones will be good for what you have planned?”

“Anything is good, I have your outfit for the main event planned, the rests are dinners, brunches and us driving to and from California.”

“We’re going to California?” She can’t believe it… but then she clues in. “Oh my god, Spencer, why are we going to California?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, you tell me?”

“I’m going to lose my mind if we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” she explains, rushing to his side, she places her hands on his shoulders, “I’m going to go nuts.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to…”

She can’t believe him, she just hugs him and holds him there, “Oh, you’re so cute when you try to lie to me, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “Now, hurry up and pack, we can check into the Airbnb after 10pm tonight, if we leave now we could be there by midnight?”

And so they pack her up, they check the apartment to make sure everything is off and all the widows are closed and they head out. She locks the door, he brings her suitcase down to the car and she lets him drive. He’s a lot more comfortable on the road at night, he takes them out of Reno, down Highway 695 towards Carson City. They see Bridgeport, Willow Springs, Mammoth and Crowley Lake, Big Pine, Independence, Long Pine and then they stop for gas and a snack. He drives from Long Pine to Ridgecrest and then they pass through Mojave around 11:30.

They’re in the home stretch now. She knows exactly what’s happening when they go through Santa Clara. She can see on their GPS that by taking the 405 south they’ll end up in Inglewood in just a few minutes.

He got them a cute little Airbnb just a stone's throw from the stadium, they’d be able to walk to and from if they wanted to. Once he parks outside of it, she turns to him with tears in her eyes. “How did you manage to do this?”

“Penelope,” he says with a smile. “She knows someone at Ticketmaster, they got me really good tickets for the 4th. I bought you an outfit, I made myself one, too… I know how badly you wanted to see her so I made it happen.”

“You really are the man of my dreams,” she swoons. “Thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he reminds her. Meaning every word.

“I know… now let’s get all our shit inside so I can give you a proper thank you.”

—

They spend their first day there just looking around. They have brunch at a cute little spot she’s always wanted to try, they visit the National History Museum and Exposition Park. It’s a lovely day where they just get to hold hands and be together. They order dinner to their Airbnb and eat while watching TV and then they spend another night in bed together. It’s perfect.

When they wake up on the 4th, Spencer smothers her in kisses and wishes her a happy birthday… they don’t leave the bed for a while after that.

He orders her breakfast and while they’re waiting for it, he shows her the outfit he has picked out for her. The dress, her jacket, the shoes, a cute little clear purse for the stadium and a lot of sparkly makeup options for whatever she wants to do.

“Spencer, this is perfect?” She’s amazed by it all. “How did you know?”

“I found your Pinterest,” he shrugs. “and you always show me cute outfits on TikTok, I took a lot of inspiration from what I knew you’d like and your favourite songs to make this… and these,” he pulls out a ziplock bag full of bracelets. All handmade. All perfect.

She spreads all the bracelets out on their bed, and she reads each and every single one. He has sent titles, lyrics and abbreviations, even quotes from Taylor that he’s memorized from how many times she’s watched Miss Americana on her days off. “Spence, how am I going to part with these?”

He shrugs, “Don’t trade your favourites? Maybe leave any special ones here?”

“Yeah, I guess I could do that… I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of making these just for me, seriously, when did you have the time?”

“On my lunch breaks,” he laughs to himself. “I had no idea what I was doing and then Keesha, our undercover girl, showed me how to make them better.”

“Everything is perfect, Spence,” she stands and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “This is going to be the best night of my life.”

She really had no idea.

“I was thinking we could maybe go get our nails done,” he says as she pulls away. “We don’t have to be at the stadium till 6, I think it would be nice to get some eras nails done? I might even get some colour?”

“Yeah, that sounds amazing!” She agrees, not thinking anything of it.

He really just wants her to think her nails are pretty when he slips the ring onto her finger later tonight.

He already made the appointment with a local nail salon for 1pm, giving them enough time to head back to their Airbnb and get ready for the show and maybe even get something to eat before they go. He’s such a planner. She loved every second of it, it made her less stressed to know that he already knew everything that was going on and he was confident about it too.

He gets his nails done as well. He’s always wanted to but never had the chance to. He gets just basic gel while she goes all out with a shorter acrylic shape, she gets sparkles and stars all in the 10 different album colours and she loves them. She keeps staring at them the whole walk home, she loves how they sparkle in the light and how pretty the shape makes her hand look.

The ring is going to look even better on her hand now.

They shower together back at their place, Spencer watches in awe as she does her hair and her makeup and it’s not until the end that he hands her the adhesive sparkles and asks her to help him put the lover heart around his eye.

“What did you plan for your outfit?” She asks while carefully sticking each sparkle to his face.

“I got some bright pink pants, like, highlighter pink, bright,” he smirks. “I also bought a puffy shirt like Romeo… I wanted to go for Lover Story.”

She laughs, “Oh you’re going to look good.”

“I also bought cowboy boots…”

“You didn’t,” she can’t believe it. “What colour?”

“Pink.”

“Oh my god, Spence… really?”

“well like you said Lover and Midnights go together like they were planned to be back to back and you’re my other half so I wanted us to match… and then I’m partly fearless which came after Evermore which is on your shoes, so, it all matches.”

“I love you,” she cups his face gently, “like it’s insane how much I love you.”

“It’s not insane. It’s the perfect amount,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss.

—

She doesn’t know they have front-row seats until they’re at the stadium getting their tickets checked. The best part of her reaction at the gate is that she thinks this is the last surprise… she’s so overjoyed with the thought of being that close to Taylor Swift that she can’t even fathom him proposing tonight.

From all the Tiktok's that she’s watched since March, she knows that the best time to go to the merch stands isn’t before the concert. It’s during. So, on their way to their seats, they simply buy some overpriced drinks and trade a couple friendship bracelets before heading towards their seats. She looks around with her mouth agape, amazed at how big the place is and how much of the stage takes up the floor.

At their seats, she shakes her head and lets out an exasperated laugh, “I can’t believe you got these?”

“Only the best for my girl,” he teases, wrapping his arm around her, he brings her in and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Happy birthday.”

“I love you,” she smiles up at him. “Thank you for this, really. I’m going to thank you a million times.”

“You don’t have to,” he waves it off. “I wanted to come too, you know, she’s a big reason we’re together in the first place.”

“If only we could tell her thank you,” she laughs.

“We should’ve made a sign,” he teases.

“We should’ve…” she agrees. “Maybe I can just put big text on my phone and hold it up to her?”

“That could work.”

So that’s what she does, sitting in her seat, waiting for the opener, she drafts a few things to say while the stadium starts to fill up.

It takes a while before someone behind them actually shows up. Spencer worried there for a moment that the seats behind him didn’t sell and thus part of his plan for tonight would be ruined… but then a couple girls, in their teens, show up just before HIAM comes out to play.

Spencer takes something from his pocket, pretends to reach between their seats to the floor and turns back to one of the girls. “Um, I think you dropped this,” Spencer says to the girls behind them, he hands them a note and a $5 bill. Y/N watches him hand it back to them and then turns right back to watching the openers play.

“Oh thanks,” the girl says with a smile. She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads it.

‘Can you please record me and my future fiancé during love story? I have an important question to ask her and I want to remember it forever.’ And his number at the bottom.

She looks at Spencer with her eyes full of tears and nods, mouthing “I can do that.”

He gives her a thumbs up and turns back to watching the show. HAIM are a band he’s heard Y/N play before, he’s surprised how many words he knows just from being around her. They’re amazing and he knows that because they’re on the tour now, that means their song with Taylor has been added to the setlist. He really likes that one, even if it is about premeditated murder.

He knows the setlist like the back of his hand. It starts with Lover, the intro is a remix of all her eras names over top of the song Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince, the dancers wear these big sheets of fabric, peacocking around the stage and then they cover the middle of the main diamond stage. Once they lift the sheets back up, however, Taylor emerges onto the stage and the crowd goes wild.

He’s seen the show on Tiktok live so many times that he’s okay with missing it in person, instead, he watches her. He watches the way she stares at Taylor like she hung the stars and the moon herself. Like she’s some sort of god and everyone here is blessed to be in her presence. She cries, shaking her head in disbelief, she chants the words back to her and doesn’t even realize Spencer has been staring at her the whole time.

“Look how close she is,” Y/N bumps his shoulder and points. “She’s literally right there.”

“I know,” he smiles, so in love with her he couldn’t even pay attention to Taylor.

When Cruel Summer starts, she screams so loud, Spencer’s sure she’s going to lose her voice tomorrow. He finally starts paying attention to the show now. Singing along, he knows all the words. He actually really loves this song. And the man. He loves everything from Lover simply because he’s so deeply, deeply in love.

Post-lover, Taylor heads in for a costume change and thats when Spencer starts to feel anxious. He’s 2 songs away from his big moment. He checks his pockets, he still has the ring, in its box staying safe, it’s right there and ready to go. He almost blacks out for most of Fearless, he snaps back into it for You Belong With Me and the first note to Love Story gets his heart beat racing a million miles a minute.

He looks back at the girl behind him who has her phone out already she smiles at him, nodding like she’s ready to go and he takes a deep breath. Taylors walking down the catwalk, she’s going to be literally right in front of them when he gets down on one knee… he doesn’t think she’s seen a proposal this close and in person yet on this tour? Maybe she’ll notice them?

He sings along, genuinely loving the song and it steadies him a little. Y/N is singing too, jumping up and down and pointing at Taylor during all the best parts. She’s having the time of her life… she has no idea what’s coming.

The second chorus comes and he reaches into his pocket, he’s holding the box in his hand and his heart is in his throat.

“And I got tired of waiting… wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading! When I met you on the outskirts of town!” Y/N sings along. “And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come is this in my head I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulled out a ring and—

She notices then that he’s dropped to one knee, following the song, he holds open the little black box and she screams. Everyone in their section is screaming. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know!” Spencer sings along to the song.

She’s frozen, can’t believe this is happening and real but she looks at the ring and then at him, her eyes full of tears. “Yes!!! Yes, I’ll marry you!!” She gets down to the ground with him and pulls him into a kiss, he smiles into it, happier than he’s ever been in his whole life.

When she pulls back he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her ring finger. He helps her back to her feet and all she can do is stare at it. “Holy shit?”

“I love you!” He shouts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to love you forever.”

She pulls him into another hug, not even noticing that Taylor did see it. She pointed at them, she got excited and there was footage of it from a million different angles that she’ll get to see later. She finishes the song, running back to make her mark and then she disappears once again to get ready for Evermore.

Y/N snuggles into his side, her left hand resting on his chest, she keeps pulling her hand back to look at it. There’s just enough quiet between eras that she asks, “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.”

“Etsy,” he says with a smile. “It was on my doorstep the other day when you came over.”

“No way?” She laughs, “how long have you been planning this?”

“Since I asked you how you felt about getting married one day,” he admits.

She stands on her tiptoes and leans in for another kiss, “I Love you.”

“I love you,” he reminds her. “Forever and always… but I actually mean that.”

She laughs, “god, you really are the number 1 fearless stan, aren’t you?”

He’s about to reply when the girls behind him poke him in the back, “Hey!” They both turn around. “I texted you the video and my friend got the other angle of Taylor's reaction!”

“She saw it?!” Y/N freaks out.

They nod, freaking out with her, “Yeah!! She pointed at you guys and she was so happy!!”

“Holy shit!” Y/N shouts for the second time. “This is the best day of my fucking life, how does it keep getting better?”

“I don’t know man, but congrats!” The girl says. “You guys are so cute together.”

“Thank you,” they say at the same time.

She looks at him this time like he hung the stars. If you told him just 4 months ago that he’d find the love of his life and get engaged to her at a Taylor Swift concert of all places, he would’ve laughed… now he can’t imagine his life going any other way.

This is where he was always supposed to be.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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starlightkun · 3 months ago

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❧ teaser word count: 973 | full fic: 26.0k ❧ genre: angst, fluff, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies early in the fic, depictions of grieving, family member of the reader is sick (it’s dementia-like, though the disease is never named in the fic), family tension/drama (reader has some family members that are not very nice to her), reader has some sleep/physical health issues at one point, reader is just really going through it in this fic for a while ❧ extra info: the reader’s mom in this has early-onset memory issues; i didn’t name a specific disease because im not a medical expert of any kind and didn’t want to misrepresent any real-life illness in this fic. i combined both my own experiences with my own family members who have had these kinds of illnesses and some research, but i am not an expert and the representation in this fic may not be entirely accurate! ❧ estimated release date: saturday, august 24, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

Crying at a wake was normal. Encouraged even. But you weren’t amongst loved ones, remembering someone you’d lost. You were alone, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark, crying into your arms to muffle your sobs as you tried to compose yourself from the confrontation you’d just survived. Barely. Your hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice caught your attention, gentle, then hushed as he seemed to be speaking to himself, “Why are you asking that? Stupid, stupid.”

You picked your head up out of your arms, quickly wiping the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you spotted a young man at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark hair and was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and what looked like a black cardigan over the shirt. You didn’t recognize him from the wake, but you hadn’t greeted everyone, nor did you know all the mourners personally. Many were either family friends of your stepdad’s from before he met your mother, old colleagues, or distant relations.

Sniffling and trying to right your clothes, you offered him as much of a smile you could muster, “I’m sorry, it’s uhm, been a long day.”

He froze, his eyes locking on yours and going wide. The man looked behind him, as if expecting you to have been addressing somebody else, and upon seeing an empty hallway, he turned back to you and hesitantly replied, “That’s… okay. Are you alright?”

“Oh, as alright as I can be, I suppose,” you admitted, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve again. You weren’t sure why you were telling this random man that, but he had spotted you sobbing at a wake, so there wasn’t much of a point in covering that fact up. “Were you looking for the bathroom or…?”

“No, just stretching my legs.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t think I saw you at the funeral. How did you know my stepdad? Family friend?”

“Yeah, I was around when his kids were growing up.”

“Oh, are you a childhood friend of his sons or something?”

“Friend is a stretch, I think,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as well, adding a polite but hollow, “I’m sure they appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”

As he shifted on his feet, the shadows on his face lessened, letting you see his features better. You furrowed your brow with interest.

“How old are you? I mean—You don’t look older than me, you must’ve been much younger than them growing up.”

“I-I mean, we weren’t very close,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Feeling bad about putting him on the spot in this sort of scenario, you offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t grow up with my stepbrothers, so I guess it’s a bit hard for me to imagine them having friends—Oh!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you slapped a hand over it, wishing you hadn’t said them, especially not to some stranger, who for all you know could turn right around and repeat it to your stepbrothers. That would be the last thing you needed, to give them another reason to hate you, and by extension, your mother.

“That didn’t come out right!” You desperately tried to backpedal, holding your hands out in front of you. “I-I meant that I haven’t met a lot of their friends, since our parents got together later in life, and—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured you calmly, taking a couple hesitant steps up the stairs. You scooted over to make room for him to sit next to you on the top step. He pressed himself against the banister, leaving plenty of space between you two. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard some of what they said to you in the kitchen.”

“I would normally be upset at you for eavesdropping, but I’m kind of glad that somebody else heard some of the shit they said to me this time,” you chuckled cynically.

“‘This time?’” He repeated questioningly. “Are they always like that to you?”

“I don’t see them that often. I think the first time I met the middle son was at the wedding, actually,” you said. “They started spending more holidays with their mom instead of Hyukjun when my mom… after her diagnosis.”

“Oh.”

“God, sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all this shit.” You shook your head at yourself. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Jisung.”

“Y/N.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. You and your mom are his family, too.”

You messed with the sleeves of your shirt as you stared at the bottom step, gnawing on your bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood when you broke skin. Finally, once you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat, you replied with a tight, “Thanks. And I mean, I understand why they would be upset. Their dad just died and two people who are essentially strangers to them are now living in their childhood home. Of course they feel weird about it.”

“That’s... gracious.”

“It’s true. And like I said, their dad died, they deserve some grace.” From elsewhere in the house, you could hear your mom calling your name, and immediately jumped to your feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.” Jisung nodded to you. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for listening, Jisung.” You waved to him over your shoulder as you rushed down the stairs and off in the direction of your mother’s voice.

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jooniperbonsai · 8 months ago

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Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Three

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 14.9k

Release date: March 24, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now that Seokjin has agreed to come over and help you practice for your streams, you find there's a lot more you want to do with him than actually prepare for this stream.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks HEAVILY referenced in this chapter, familial verbal and emotional abuse that might be triggering to some (slamming of doors, manipulative behaviors), references to puberty, implied chubby/fat reader, references to disordered eating (not main characters), references to oral (f), mention of sub drop, Seokjin is STRONG and the king of consent, lots of little domestic moments idk let's hope I didn't forget anything

a/n: Ahh finally, I'm so sorry it took so long to get to you. I have been very busy in my little corner of reality so I haven't had a chance to really dive back in for a while. I hope you enjoy more of the backstory to the characters in this one, I found pulling away from the spicy bits a little necessary so I could learn more about my characters as they grow.

I'll be in South Korea these next few weeks for my birthday, so I might be mostly offline but I'll enjoy looking at your comments, tags, questions, etc, while I'm away! Thanks for your patience. Enjoy! -h

This, she thinks, is goodbye. Her body sprawled in the silk sheets of August’s chamber, head thrust back onto the plush pillows. Never again in her life did she think she would see the dark beams of his ceiling again, yet now, her legs bent and open for him, his lips eagerly suckling her inner thigh, she couldn’t imagine life any other way.

How many times had she counted each knot in the wood above her, her eyes tracing the swirl and swell of the grain while August swirled the swell of her sex? Perfectly matched in this way, as if he were reading her like a map he’d crafted himself. He knew her. Knew all of her, how the heady moan leaving her throat now was a sign she was becoming impatient with his thorough ministrations.

She dared to risk a glance down, only to see him watching her intently, devilishly choosing that moment to latch himself onto her, a wicked smirk flashing across his face as she elicited a hearty gasp.

“August,” she breathed, instinctively tangling her fingers through his newly-raven hair, dyed dark now to comply with his family’s request. While his once-bleached locks were the definite sign of his rebellion, a sign that he would fight against the ruling state and their convoluted and asinine laws that prevented royalty from marrying a commoner, she admitted his natural hair suited him more. He looked less harsh this way, his delicate skin creamy and soft as she skimmed her fingertips across his cheek.

“No,” he breathed into her sex, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Something about the glint in his eye as he feasted upon her spelled out more than simple lust. No, she forbade herself to think that this was more than a parting gift, a transaction before she would be cast aside for his betrothed.

“Please,” she begged, though she knew she was asking for many things in that request. Please end the hunger between her legs, please end his engagement. Please take her to bed tonight and tomorrow and every night after. Please love me.

“Say my name,” he growled, sitting up to wipe his mouth with the back of his robe sleeve.

“August,” she called but he only chuckled darkly, the cool blue of the fabric cascading around him.

She felt so exposed. Here she was, completely naked, and yet he hadn’t even begun to undress. It felt cold, final, and sickening. Her eyes roved his body, looking for more skin, anything to keep her close to him at this moment, but he was so carefully tucked away.

“August,” she said again and he shook his head.

“That’s not my name,” he argued.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she reached forward, needing now more than ever to touch him. She was drowning fast in the night, the blue robes sweeping over both their bodies as he leaned closer, finally letting her grip his forearm as she groped around. He was drifting from her in one way or another, his body a boat on the water that was capsizing her under his waves.

“I–I can’t. I can’t see you. I–.” A rush of white hot panic surged into her throat, constricting her words. As she began drowning, August moved quickly, disrobing himself and pulling her into his embrace. She gasped for air as she wrenched out a heavy sob, her nipples stroking the soft hairs on his chest, yet she ignored the sensation instead for the thing she needed more: his heartbeat.

There, in his chest, was the melodic thrum that sought to calm her erratic one, calling her home to him in the cold night air.

“Breathe, Petal,” he commanded, and she felt a rush of air fall from her lungs as she remembered once more to do the most simple of human tendencies. His arms laced around her back, where the soft tracing of his fingers along her spine brought her back into herself.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, a prick of tears falling despite her best efforts to appear unaffected.

He hummed in response.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, and she felt her joints loosen as she molded herself further into his embrace.

“I want to,” she replied, voice unsteady. “Sugar, please just hold me.”

He melted into her, a pool of warmth overtaking him as he absorbed her nickname. He kissed her forehead, her temples, everywhere his mouth could spread some of the sweetness.

After long, she hummed a satisfied sound through her lips, and her hips began rocking against him. He laid her back down, his eyes searching hers before the corner of his mouth ticked into a smirk.

“You with me?” he asked, his smirk becoming a full grin as she bucked further toward him, desperate and wanting. He was back, the ever-changing prince who within a blink of an eye could transform the room into his sensual paradise.

August’s hand skimmed up her calf and back between her thighs, resting up against her heat.

“August,” she panted, and he chuckled darkly, the scar over his eye almost glowing in the moonlight.

“I told you that’s not my name,” he warned, sliding his fingers into her wet folds.

“Seokjin,” you said, his name caught in your throat as he continued moving.

“Good girl,” he coaxed, two of his fingers covering the edges of your clit as he began rolling it under his touch.

“Fuck.”

The wooden beams were gone. Now it was the familiar white plaster that you often looked at, trying to remember what constellations were above during what season, though you could never see the stars anyway in this part of the city.

Seokjin pulled himself up off the chamber bed, though the chamber was hazy, almost pixelated as you realized around you it was not the chamber of August and his beloved, but your small bedroom.

“Focus,” he commanded, and your eyes flashed over to Seokjin, who was naked and sweaty, his chest flush like it was when you’d seen him before. His fingers roamed over your calf and he lifted you leg at an angle, exposing your pussy to the cool air.

Seokjin licked his lips and began swirling his fingers around your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“You gonna be good for me?” he asked and you moaned an affirmative as you felt the first of his fingers tip into you.

“Nuh uh, use your words, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to beg but found no words could come out. He cocked his head, confused. Seokjin reached over to touch your face. You felt nothing.

“What–”

The plop of the book hitting the floor jars you awake. At some point in reading, you must’ve dozed off, your world and the book world merging into a hot, overwhelming dream that has your heart racing.

He’s in your mind again, Seokjin. And it really is all your fault. Because you’ve spent the rest of your weekend and the first half of this week texting him with a plan to put this After Dark stream into place, an idea that you hadn’t really thought through before proposing to him.

You know you want this, to feel at ease in your body and confident to hold your own on streams. Especially since the option to quit is becoming less and less of an option. This week, your university confirmed your withdrawal, meaning that for the next few months you’ll be focusing on streaming and working more shifts at the restaurant to try and replenish your income for the summer term.

And that also means you’ll be seeing Seokjin a lot more often. Your stomach does a tiny flip just thinking about it.

Now with him being around you everywhere, all the time, your subconscious has been drifting to dreams of him, and every waking thought is somehow finding a way to wiggle him in. At the market this morning, you were walking through the produce section where you noticed a large pile of mangoes on sale. Does Seokjin like mangoes? you’d wondered. That shirt on the mannequin would look good on Seokjin. That dog looks like the one in the old picture in Seokjin’s office. What would Seokjin think about this recurring ad?

It’s becoming relentless. So much so that you also find yourself asking him random questions to take the edge off.

Me 1:47PM: Thoughts about fruit on pizza.

Seokjin 1:50PM: Are you asking because we are having pizza later?

Me 1:51PM: No I was just wondering

Me 1:51PM: Unless you want that later? I can get us some

Me 1:51PM: I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:51PM: No you will not! I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:53PM: Also depends on the kind of fruit

Seokjin 1:53PM: Never had blueberries on pizza.

Seokjin 1:54PM: But I would maybe try it. Pineapple is fine though.

Seokjin 1:55PM: I’ll pick up the pizza on the way over. Be there at 6.

Seokjin agreed to stop by today to do some roleplay exercises for you to practice before your stream later tonight. He thought it was important that you run through the full scale of situations you might be presented with so you could say no firmly but without risking losing your viewership, two things equally at odds with each other for you most of the time.

You look for your phone in the mess of your couch cushions, assuming that at some point in your impromptu nap, it slunk down between the crack. Sure enough, you find it nestled between two cushions, the comfort of its weight in your hand dismissing some of the panic when you see it’s only 4:30. He hasn’t texted, which means he hasn’t canceled.

You remember from his stream last week that he maintains a tempered persona, never giving too much or too little away to his viewers. He’d exuded such self control. Is he always like that?

You know he mostly keeps it together at work, but that amount of restraint shocks you. You’re always wondering what it is that will make him snap. Sure, you’ve seen him annoyed, or occasionally yelling at your coworkers, but never rageful. Never out of control. That just isn’t Seokjin.

Determined to keep your hands busy while you wait for him to arrive, you busy yourself tidying, though your apartment is scarily clear because you’ve been frantically cleaning all day. You walk into the kitchen, a small, narrow room that has never been very welcoming as a cooking space. Your old, banged up fridge has dents from where the door has opened too quickly and rocketed into the oven handle, leaving a jagged, metal scar on the surface.

When you’d first moved in, you didn’t understand how something could be so damaged, but within the first week, it became apparent how heavy and quickly the door swung into it, probably because the floors, and thus everything else, doesn’t sit exactly level in the space, meaning that everything that you bake comes out at an angle, and everything else always falls to one side of the pan, making things uneven. Every time you use your rolling pin, you have to place it on an oven mitt or else you risk it rolling into the large gap between the countertop and the wall.

Your apartment is one that you’ve done your best to uplift. While your kitchen is somewhat of a hellhole, with a buzzing fluorescent light that sounds almost like it’s mocking you when you dare to cook anything in it, the rest of your space has some sense of charm to it.

There’s a large window facing the back parking lot of the building, which some may find less exciting because it isn’t exuding some Instagram-worthy backdrop of urban living, but you benefit from the fact that there’s a large, undeveloped lot in your view, with some plum trees that will bloom in the next few weeks, and the soft chartreuse green that ushers in the early spring grasses is slowly starting to brighten in hue.

Some summer nights, you crack your window and hear the loud chattering of cicadas and birds as they rustle through the trees, and it helps to distract from the usual traffic noises that ricochet off the other buildings around you.

You have some small herbs growing on the windowsill, as well as some salvaged green onion ends you’d tossed into an empty yogurt pot with soil and let take off. A sad excuse for a dining table is propped against it with two mismatched chairs.

An oversized, well-loved, brown couch you got for a steal from one of those local posting groups takes up a large chunk of your living room, which will probably have to be sawed in half to get out of your space if you ever move. It weighs a ton and you can’t even shuffle it into a better angle toward your television, which has resulted in one side of the couch being further worn-down and frumpy from the creases of you sitting in the same spot day after day. The other side usually houses a variety of character plushies and a large pink knit blanket you swaddle yourself in regularly. Today, everything is given a place, and the blanket is folded and resting on the back of the couch.

The rest of your apartment is a collection of stuff: some mismatched bookshelves shoved into one corner with all your smutty reads and figurines, postcards and repurposed mailers you’ve collaged into some type of wall art, and Barry, your Big Mouth Bass that knows one song and one song only: “Take Me to the River”.

Due to your lack of space in your cozy apartment, your desk and gaming set-up are in your room. During streams, you tote out a collapsible green screen to give yourself at least some privacy, but behind the screen is your bed you’ve cluttered with some throw pillows, a dresser whose drawers are so warped they don’t fully close, the nightstand which hides your collection of sex toys, and that’s about it. As the months have progressed, your schoolwork has moved from being the main event on the desk to now being crammed into the shallow drawers beneath. Beyond that, your PC and streaming supplies take up the rest of the space in your room.

After fussing with everything for a whole ten minutes, you retreat from your bedroom, heading into the hellscape kitchen to stare at the groceries you’ve just bought.

A jar of kimchi, some beets, and a comically large bag of carrots you impulse bought greet you. You sigh. Yes, this is what you’ll have to do to make time pass. Pulling the items from the fridge, you shuffle around to gather your cutting board from its slot next to the microwave, and find your good knife set in the drawer.

One of the conditions you were given upon being hired at the restaurant was to purchase your own set of knives. “It teaches you how to respect the tools before you. Having pride in your knives ensures you’ll serve food with pride,” Mr. Kim had told you.

When you shared that knowledge with Seokjin he snorted. “It ensures you’ll not damage our own knives that he’s too cheap to replace is what he means.”

Regardless, you now own a decent quality set of cutting knives, perfect for what you need them for. You scrub and lightly peel the carrots to trim away the dirt and uneven shapes adorning the outside.

Then, you begin your setup, placing your cutting board with a kitchen towel near the end to catch any rollaway carrots you’re bound to encounter during your task. You snag a large bowl, a rubber jar grip to keep the cutting board in place, and your Chef’s knife from your knife set. You chop up the kimchi and beets, doing a tiny bit of prep by cutting those for later in the week. Then, you begin with the carrots.

You pull from the washed pile and grip your knife, and remember what Seokjin taught you: cut the rounded edge off the carrot so it sits flat on the board. You slice again, then again, stacking the pieces before cutting in the next direction until a pile of neat matchsticks lay before you.

No chaos erupting in the kitchen, no pieces flinging to the floor or a semi-concussion. Just you, the yellow glow of the humming light, and your carrots. You begin the next one. Then again. It’s almost addicting, like the affirmation that you are capable of this, of anything, has started to warm something inside of you.

When was the last time you felt this confident and assured? Felt like you were growing in the right direction? In school, you were used to doing fairly well and understanding the material, but this is different somehow. This is you seeing the results as they pile higher into the bowl. You reach for another and another, washing the rest of the carrots and scrubbing them before continuing. Your hands are now properly stained, the beet juice, gochugaru, and carrot juice making your hands look like you are bleeding, but you don’t care. The ache from your grip, the loud thumping at the door, they don’t mean anything in this moment when it’s you feeling the give of the vegetable as it splits into finer pieces.

“Y/N?!! HELLO ARE YOU OKAY?”

A familiar voice bellows from the hall, another sharp thunk hitting the metal door. Seokjin.

Your eyes rip to the clock on the oven. It’s already five minutes past six. You’ve been cutting carrots for about an hour.

Hastily, you rinse your hands, ignoring the sting as the cold water spurts from the faucet. You grab the kitchen towel off the oven handle, and rush to the door.

You barely have it unlocked before Seokjin barges in, two large pizza boxes and a six pack of beer in his hands as he steps over the threshold. He smells faintly of mint and eucalyptus.

Seokjin whips in your direction, scanning his eyes over your face and down your body.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out as he fervently looks you up and down, gasping as he takes in your hands. “What happened?”

“What? No, no I’m fine!” You hold one hand up in his direction, taking the kitchen towel and rubbing it into your palm for good measure. “They’re stained. Um, I was cutting vegetables.”

His eyes flit to the direction of the kitchen, where the light is still on and buzzing, and you can just make out the chopping board on the counter. Now assured you’re not injured, Seokjin recovers, stepping out of his shoes and padding into the kitchen.

“Whoa, you really were going to town in here with the carrots weren’t you? I thought I could smell it on you.”

Your cheeks flood with heat. “Well, you said I had to practice.”

Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before holding up the six pack. “Uh, I brought beer. I don’t know if you like it or not but I feel like it goes really well with pizza.”

You smile. “I’m not sure if getting me wasted is the solution to setting boundaries with my stream. Doesn’t alcohol lower your inhibitions?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you planning on finishing off this entire six pack by yourself and getting trashed? Much less beer that is…” He squints at the packaging. “...four percent alcohol?”

You laugh. “No, I suppose not. Thank you.” You take the case from his hands and pluck two bottles from the cardboard before putting the rest in the fridge. Holding the cold bottle in your hands, you grimace.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like this brand?” Seokjin asks.

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that. Um, I don’t really drink often so I don’t actually own a bottle opener.”

Seokjin frowns and looks around your kitchen, grazing his hand along the chipped laminate counters. Then he takes the bottle in his hand and whacks it down on the counter edge on an angle. The cap pops off, a subtle wisp of fog puffing from the top. He smirks, proud. He gestures for you to hand him your bottle.

With ease, he pops off the second cap and deposits it back into your hands.

Your jaw hangs slack. “Wh-how did you do that?” you ask.

He chuckles. “There’s a science to it, angles. I’m just glad I didn’t take a chunk of the counter with me. I’ve done that before.”

“And you risked my counter top just now?”

He snorts. “Come on, did anything happen? A little bit of trust would be nice, Y/N.” He glances at the giant bowl of cut carrots. “Well, you’ve certainly improved. What are you going to make with all those?”

You pull your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t thought about it. Your silence seems to tip Seokjin off to that as well, because after a sip of beer, he sets his bottle on the back end of the counter, rolling up his sleeves and scooting over to the sink to wash his hands.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Cooking,” he replies simply. “Do you have flour? Green onions?”

You nod. “Okay, get those. I’ll also need some soybean paste if you have it, vegetable oil, salt, and sugar.”

You furrow your brows. You know this recipe from the restaurant. “You’re making jeon? But, we already have pizza.”

“We can have the pizza as an appetizer. Jeon will be the main course.”

You laugh. “How much do you think I eat?”

“Not much. But you see, I am very hungry.” Heat shoots to your core. You glance over at Seokjin, who is looking at you amused as he squeezes the carrots between his hands to wring out the excess juice.

You didn’t really notice before, but Seokjin looks effortlessly cool, a loose pink linen button down framing his broad shoulders. He’s left the top two buttons undone, exposing the white t-shirt he wears underneath. Lighter wash jeans cover his strong thighs. If a stranger ever passed him on the street, they might think he’s too cool for them, too serious or vain.

But, there are notes of him everywhere in this outfit that suggests the break in the persona. One of the buttons in the middle of his shirt has popped open, a few hairs on the back of his head are cowlicked out of place, and on his feet are a pair of neon green Chikorita Pokemon socks. You find it impossible to hide your amusement.

“Ah, got it. Nice socks by the way,” you joke, trying to distract from the singing heat and close proximity. You can’t help but think about the last time you and Seokjin were in such confined spaces and how that ended up. “Didn’t know you were going to use your feet later to guide an airplane into landing.”

“Well, I figured it was a necessary backup in case your hands weren’t bright enough.” He nods toward you. You laugh.

“Touché.”

You open your upper cabinet. The paper bag of flour sits on the middle shelf, which you usually climb onto the counter to reach, but with Seokjin in the kitchen, there’s even less space than usual. You stretch, lifting onto your tiptoes. Your fingertips brush the bag, but it’s not enough to move it. As you try to angle yourself better, you see two large hands come above yours, Seokjin easily grabbing the flour off the shelf to set down onto the counter.

You feel his body heat behind you, his shirt brushing the small of your back from where your own rode up during your stretch, and a swell of goosebumps rise on your arms from the gentle tickle.

“There,” Seokjin says softly into your ear, almost breathless. “Don’t want to have any more kitchen related incidents, do we?” Too soon, he moves away, his warmth, the subtle note of his cologne fading into the smell of the green onions he’s set next to your not-so-glorious prep space.

Suddenly, he scoffs. You turn toward him. “What?”

“Really, Y/N? Have you learned nothing?” The heat in your core immediately dissipates, welcoming a familiar sour stroke of shame as you try to put together what you’ve missed. How did you fuck this up? What haven’t you learned? When you focus on what he’s pointing at, you realize he isn’t angry. He’s teasing you.

Your knife is unsheathed on the cutting board, abandoned in your haste to let him in. “When are you ever going to learn basic kitchen safety?” he laughs. The prick of embarrassment dissolves, Seokjin’s laugh soothing the ache.

You smile and shrug. “In my defense, I didn’t have the time to put it away or in the sink because you were disturbing the peace by practically breaking my door down.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well excuse me for wanting to ensure your safety. Now where’s that soybean paste?”

Seokjin had been sitting on, or practically in your couch for the last twenty minutes as you ran through various scenarios and questions you were likely to experience while streaming. Your old couch was comfy, but as you’d practiced longer, he felt he was shrinking, the cushions settling further and further down. That, he thought, was probably going to hurt to climb out when the time came.

Despite the size and outdated condition your apartment was in, he was fascinated with how you’d chosen to decorate it, as if everything had its own place. You had an impressive collection of colorful books on a bookshelf, framed in with little knick-knacks and figurines of your favorite characters or collectibles. One large sunny window was decorated with stickers that acted as prisms, sending rainbow beams across your floor at a certain point in the day. A photo of a very young you and two people he assumed were your parents leaning against a guard rail over a canyon was framed and hung next to a giant plastic fish.

No, you didn’t have much. It was clear you’d thrifted or trash picked most of the furniture in your apartment, with the exception of your computer setup. You’d taken him into your bedroom to show him what system you used, how you’d built your system based on the specifications of your mod, who Seokjin now knew, was also your best friend Wonwoo.

But Seokjin couldn’t help but revel in how well cared for and cozy this small place was, so different from the cold floors of his own apartment. It reminded him of the tiny place he used to live in with his parents. It was familiar, safe.

When he’d come in, he did worry something was wrong. You weren’t one to not answer, attentive in the restaurant to everyone, often whipping your head in someone’s direction the second you heard the first sound of your name slip through someone’s lips. When you didn’t answer, he’d wondered if you’d been injured or worse. As much as he tried not to judge your building, he was a little concerned about the safety precautions put in place. He’d walked straight in, no lock on the front door, no door man. Everyone’s names were blatantly listed on their mailboxes. If anyone wanted to find you, it wouldn’t be hard to do so.

But you were fine, and the acrid worry that had bloomed in him during those five minutes of you not answering had dissolved once he saw your bright smile, and the even brighter colored stains on your hands.

They were still blotchy, though a few runs under the sink with dish soap was helping them fade. As you feathered a hand through your hair, he found himself grinning. The fact that you had acquired a bulk bag of carrots and used them for practice was so endearing to him. He never doubted your dedication to work, but the fact that you were using the techniques he taught you in your kitchen had brightened something in Seokjin he hadn’t even known felt dark.

And he also couldn’t ignore the sense of pride he had as you practically moaned into the jeon you two had made together, the crispy texture and roll of hot oil over your tongue invoking something in you Seokjin couldn’t help but be drawn to. You loved to eat. It was one of the first things he noticed about you, and as creepy as it sounded, also what stoked those first wisps of attraction.

You loved food the way he did, without care, or at least without care the way most people who he was raised around cared. No, you didn’t eat a lot, but when you did, you were all in, bare hands sticky after eating peaches, their juice dribbling down your chin and forearms, joyful hums when you bit into your favorite crunchy snacks from the convenience store.

He remembered growing up the ways in which women, even his mother, were almost afraid of food, afraid of how they would spend hours in the kitchen making heaps of it, pounds of fresh kimchi, grilled fish, decadent soups with tofu and mushrooms and packets of ramyeon, and yet when it was time to eat, they were too busy too or suddenly not hungry, or they would eat a few bites and excuse themselves from the table to clean up.

It was sad, really. Because Seokjin ate and ate fully, and maybe because he wasn’t a woman he didn’t need to worry about his body that way, or maybe because he always had some insane metabolism that didn’t impose weight like it did with others, but it never hit him the same. He loved food.

And clearly so did you, delighted in the meal he gave you, even eliciting a groan as you washed down a bite with your beer. It was like you were grateful for every bite of food that ever entered your mouth.

“You were right. This does taste better together,” you said. He was practically beaming.

He glanced down at the pile of jeon. They weren’t bad, but they were a little uneven. While cooking, he’d noticed that something was a bit off about your kitchen. Your oven and everything else were a bit titled, and it pooled the jeon batter toward one end, making them thicker on one side and harder to cook properly. Your fridge door also was dented, having the similar issue of the weight pushing things to one side. He made a mental note to shove some cardboard under the floor pegs later to help level the appliances.

Your counter situation, though, he couldn’t help. You would just have to keep with your barricade at the end to avoid rolling. But you seemed to be savvy in how you solved the various erroneous features of your apartment, making the best of what you had.

In fact, as Seokjin sat in the crook of your massive couch, he noticed why this side was so sunken; it was the only spot you could actually see the TV from this angle. He wondered if he could shuffle it a little bit more in a better view while you were streaming later, or if you would even notice.

You hovered next to the couch, your bottom lip worried between your teeth. You were nervous about something.

“What is it?” He asked. The time for your stream was growing nearer, and he’d promised he would stay for at least the first half, setting up his laptop in your living room.

“What am I doing?” you groaned and flopped down on the floor, a frustrated wail muffling into the carpet.

“Testing yourself and growing. Listen, Y/N, you know you don’t have to do this, but we’ve been over it daily at this point. You want more money and this is what you’ve decided is the most viable option. After-Dark type streams do make a lot more money, you want to exercise more freedom with yourself, do I need to go on?”

You shook your head. Seokjin chuckled.

“Okay, so–yah, sit up!” You bolted off the carpet and folded your legs underneath you.

“So, you know I’m going to be out here if you need anything. If you need me, I’m just on the other side of that door. Also, we’ve been practicing, right?”

“I know, I just…I’m not like you. I’m not confident, I’m not really easygoing or likable like you are. I can’t dom–command a room or everyone’s attention with my charisma how you can. I’m worried that if I don’t give people what they ask for, they’re just going to leave.”

Seokjin scoffed. He knew that on the outside, in the context of work that you were used to seeing him in, he appeared in charge and control at all times. It was part of the job, to be well tempered and fair and even, maintain a sense of friendliness but firmness, it was common sense. But much of his advice today wasn’t coming from that version of him you knew. A lot of this was insight and experience he’d gained as Jin, who he needed to be to ensure he was meeting his tip goals, or needing to remind everyone he was the one in charge, not them.

Even at work last week, when Seokjin needed to call the distributor because there was some issue with a shipment of produce, it was Jin he was channeling to make the call. If it were Seokjin, he would have been a sweaty, nervous mess. Jin was business, Jin was the one who laid down the law. Seokjin himself?

He was the youngest Kim son, the one who, when his parents’ friends and family members thought he wasn’t listening, gossiped about. Why wasn’t he married? Didn’t he have that fiancée for a while? Oh she had a baby with another man? His boss? Well surely that has been long enough now, right? He had another girlfriend, or found some other salaryman career. At 30, it would be kind of sad if his life wasn’t going anywhere.

And that’s where Seokjin was, after all. Single, a sex worker, or temporary restaurant manager. This morning he’d received a text in the family group chat from his brother with a photo of his nephew kissing his sister-in-law’s bump. He loved his nephew, he loved his brother and was happy for their little family. But he also felt hollow as he opened that picture, like some part of him knew he was never going to truly get to have that for himself.

“Hey,” he said, and your eyes flitted from the floor back to him. “First of all, if they leave they leave, right? Those aren’t the people you want to be on your streams because their energy sucks and they’ll just keep asking more of you. Second,” he cleared his throat, “you are likable. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, having viewers and subscribers. There has to be a part of you that is genuine there, otherwise everyone will know you’re lying and move away from you. Don’t they say something about how all the best lies are rooted in truth?”

“But I’m not trying to lie to them,” you said meekly.

Seokjin internally kicked himself for saying that. Perhaps suggesting that you lie to everyone wasn’t the best move.

“I know, I mean, that you don’t offer all of yourself, but offer the parts of you that you know are there that are stable. And for the rest of it, fake it until you make it. Until you can feel confident as a streamer, able to set boundaries. Pretend you’re someone else. The person you want to be.” he amended.

Jin was some of the best parts of Seokjin. Maybe even better. Self-assured, knowledgeable about sex and sexuality in ways he hadn’t been when he was with Soon Yi, he could say no to things he’d never been able to say no to his boss about, and things he couldn’t say no to now because the restaurant wasn’t technically his. There were things he could do, ways he could slip some power in there or make decisions, but nothing was really his. Not the way streaming was. That was all for him. And while yes, his friends knew he did it and supported him in their own way (thankfully most of them did not tune in but on occasion Jungkook and Taehyung would hop on when completely wasted to goad him to “release the beast”), it was still a success that couldn’t be shared publicly, even though he didn’t really want to share it anyway, and didn’t really feel successful.

“Is that what you did? Faked it until you made it? Until you were the person you wanted to be?”

His blood ran cold. Were you reading his thoughts? Did you know?

“W-what?”

Oh god, what if you knew? Seokjin would rush out into the night and dig his own grave. Because if anyone else knew what he did, if his parents found out or his brother or you, he was sure he would become the worst parts of himself. A failure again. Once more someone to be quietly gossiped about in rooms when he was in full range of hearing what they had to say. He couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than you seeing him, your own boss, with a bright pink dildo shoved up his ass as he pandered to thousands of people with whimpers and cries. Especially when he just spent the better half of an hour telling you that you didn’t need to pander to anyone.

Would you think less of him for it? Would you ask him why he was doing gay streaming of all things? His face flushed, probably turning incredibly red with embarrassment.

“With the restaurant,” you said.

He swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat and coughed.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “What you see there. It’s not really me all the time. I’m not always all that confident. But I want to be.”

You nodded quietly and stretched your arms over your head. “That makes sense,” you said as you began to pace. “Okay.”

You still had another two hours before your stream was set to start, and Seokjin could tell you were still on edge. He took a deep breath when you turned away, letting the rush of air into his lungs help cool his face.

“Seokjin?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay until it’s over? I know it’ll be late, and it’s a big ask, but maybe we can eat leftover pizza and debrief?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his night, and probably early morning if he was honest. Your streams could go well into the wee hours of the morning, and while tomorrow while opening he’d probably be kicking himself for this, right now he didn’t care about anything except the warm tug he felt in his chest as he imagined the two of you sitting on the floor with cold pizza and laughter at 3a.m.

“Thank you. Also, do you think we could have another beer or something? I need to take the edge off. I know I’m overthinking it but I need something to distract me before this stream or I might not show up.”

You didn’t wait for his permission, probably because you weren’t asking for it. You slid into the kitchen and back out with two more cold beers.

“Will you show me how to open these again? I want to try.”

Seokjin struggled a bit against the dip of your couch, but eventually found himself level and close to you, so close in fact that the soft scent of your shampoo was once again permeating his nostrils.

You were intoxicating to him, honestly, and he found himself unable to help himself as he squeezed behind you in your tiny kitchen, inhaling partially into your hair as he walked you through the process.

You fiddled with the bottle for a second, holding yourself at an awkward angle.

“Like this?”

If you did it at this angle, you would be sure to cause the beer to explode, the cap wouldn’t get enough traction to pop off easily.

“Not unless you want to participate in a wet t-shirt contest,” he joked before he even realized how sexually charged that comment was.

You inhaled a little sharply.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re a little stiff here.” Then, very carefully, he rested his hands onto your hips, gently maneuvering you so you were able to prop your arm up and out of his way so you wouldn’t elbow him in the ribs when you slammed the bottle down.

He kind of hated himself when he had to let go of your waist. His fingers were tingling simply from brushing them along the seam of your shirt, from feeling the warm curve of your hip under his fingers. Why did his hands feel so at home on your body?

Your sharp movement pushed him out of his reverie as you launched the bottle down onto the counter top, the soft plink and your sparkling eyes confirming you were successful.

That’s my girl, he thought. Only you weren’t his girl. You couldn’t be further from his. And as soon as he thought it, he also felt the soft ache in his chest knowing that you would probably never be his. Because you couldn’t. Because you were without a doubt too good for him, and Seokjin knew all that stood between you and the right guy was time. An opportunity. You walk into the right place some day and then boom, there he will be.

He fucking hated that guy already.

You popped the second cap from the bottle and turned around, shoving your body directly into him as you beamed with pride. “See! I did it!” You looked so adorable, your eyelashes long and fluttering as you gazed up at him.

A smile cracked through his gloom. You were like a little sunbeam to him.

“You did,” he acknowledged, and he took the bottle you offered, taking a swig. He waited for you to make the next move, to dislodge your body from the cramped corner of the kitchen, for the magnetic pull of your body to signal it was too close, too intimate so one of you would break away.

But neither of you did. In fact you sighed and moved closer to him, forcing the small of Seokjin’s back to rest up against the handle bar of the oven. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he didn’t dare move.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked quietly after a while, staring down at the bottle.

“Sure,” he responded.

You nibbled your bottom lip then sighed again, unsure. He felt your warm exhale hit his forearms. Did you really not realize how close you were to him? The smell of you, even that tiny hit of beer breath, was starting to drive him insane.

You shifted yourself even closer.

“Um, it’s going to sound embarrassing to ask this but I just have to.”

Your voice was low now, a tiny whisper coming out of you. Fuck, you were perfect.

“Go ahead,” he whispered back, smirking. “I won’t judge you.”

“Okay, um. Are you…are you bi?”

“Am I by what?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably and pulled back slightly. You raised your eyebrows.

“No, not by as in near, I mean bi as in like, you know, bisexual?” You shifted your gaze away, and then Seokjin felt the question sink in.

He was such a fucking idiot.

God, this is one of the most awkward interactions you’ve ever had in your life and you feel yourself getting hotter and more embarrassed by the second.

Standing in your tiny cramped kitchen, you decided now for no good reason was the best time to ask Seokjin if he’s bisexual. Or really if he’s gay. Because you need to know. Need answers. Or a confirmation that will help kill this crush for good because as of tonight? It’s much, much worse.

Something about watching him cook earlier, specifically in your kitchen, did something to you. The way he touched your hips to show you how to do that beer opening trick, how he looked slumped into your couch, the way he hovered over your bookshelves and belongings with curiosity, and laughed hysterically over Barry once he pressed the button.

He fits here. In your apartment. It isn’t just some stupid fantasy version of him you could imagine. He is real and beautiful and fits into this corner of your life like a perfect puzzle piece.

And if he’s gay, if there’s no chance that he can give you even the fantasy of this, then it all needs to stop. But it’s also so unfair for you to ask this of him. What if he’s not out? What if you’re forcing him to come out and no one knows and all because your insatiable horniness led you to a gay streaming site where you found him now his livelihood and privacy are technically in jeopardy?

Fuck. You can’t do that to him. And suddenly you’re aware of what you just did, how uncool this was for you to just out and ask. Heat claws into your throat as you sit in this shock of silence, clamping down on your airway and leaving your voice in a reedy wheeze as you try to take back your inquiry.

“I–I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer! I’m out of line. Really, I shouldn’t have even asked. Jesus, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you splutter, heart beating erratically, a line of perspiration beginning to form at the back of your neck at an insane speed. How humiliating.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. Relax. Breathe,” Seokjin says. You force a ragged inhale but find yourself coughing, gasping to try to find air in this room that is too small and a million degrees warmer.

You are standing in the hallway outside of the bathroom, rasping for air into your lungs. Your mother has just come home from work, shouting about how you haven’t remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer or done any of the chores she’d asked you to while she was gone.

The day has gotten away from you, a hot summer that is so oppressive no one even wants to go outside. You would get all she asked of you done and more before she returned home. The chicken would be thawed, you’d vacuum and mop the floors, would even wipe down the bathroom sink from all the hair she and your father left in it during his morning shave.

And then you would go to your friend’s house tonight, for the sleepover you’ve been dreaming of, eat lots of candy that her father would bring home from work that yours never let you have. You could tell her about the boy whose parents own the convenience store at the end of the street, and how all summer you’ve been finding an excuse to run up to the shop with your allowance to get a pack of gum or snacks or a can of iced tea you would have to chug outside before you even walked home anyway.

You start junior high this fall. Your period started this spring. Everything around you is changing. Your legs are stocky and getting fuller. Hair is starting to grow everywhere. Your breasts are no longer flat on your chest and while you know all of this is happening, you know why and what is going to happen, that doesn’t change how awful all this feels. Your baby fat isn’t baby fat anymore, and the oils of your skin, your hair, your smell? It all is changing so fast and you hate it. You want to hide. And at least having this boy down the street to talk to, Wonwoo, who makes you feel less like you want to crawl outside of yourself.

Him, and all the books you’ve been reading. Ones where they’re older, girls who you’ll be like soon. Who go to school, and date and have families with problems just like your family has problems. Who run into the woods and fall in love with other families. Who find belonging. There’s comfort there, and that’s why despite all your promises to make the house clean for your mom this morning, you forgot. Because you’d fallen into the world of your book.

And now, your mother has told you that you can’t go to your sleepover anymore. Can’t get away from the house and the heat and your body and the ongoing argument you know your parents are having about finances that they shout about when you’re in the shower and they think you can’t hear them. You can’t eat fun secret snacks or talk about boys or pretend for a second that this isn’t your life. Because it is.

Your throat closes up, the dim lights of the hallway outside the bathroom feel like they’re flickering.

“I told you. I reminded you multiple times! Now we don’t have dinner. Unless you’d like to think of something?” She strips off her stockings, balling them up in her fist. “Unless you want to go out there and buy some expensive meal for us tonight?”

Shame. This is it in its purest form. How wrong you are for not helping. For spending the whole day in your fantasy world with your new friends, ones who aren’t real. All your mother asked for was such simple things, and yet you are unable to just do what she asks.

“When your father gets home, you can tell him why there’s no dinner ready.”

Hot tears sting your eyes and you gasp for air. Your father? If he’s having a hard day today, if his boss or his co-workers didn’t recognize him for that presentation he spent all those late nights at the dinner table preparing, you know how this will end. Your father is a fair man, but even he has his limits.

And sometimes that means that the things you love, the things that you covet, they go missing. Precious dolls that you’ve had over the years have disappeared when you were being careless with them, leaving them around in the hallway for him to step on. Once, you left your birthday gift from your aunt, a purple Skip-It, on the sidewalk during a Spring rain shower and when you went to bring it in, it had vanished.

You’d found it in the garbage bin, the ankle loop and cord snapped into pieces.

When your father gets home, he’ll go for your book. He knows just which one it is. You had started it last night and he asked you about it.

You push off the wall of the hallway, swallowing the bile down your throat. You have to hide it, to take it somewhere.

You want to leave. Your eyes dart around the room. Anywhere but here, you can’t let him see how much more embarrassing it is now that he knows you’re anxious. A lump in your throat continues to constrain the air. You can feel your pulse in it, pulling acid up from the depths of your stomach.

You rip another breath from your chest and try to propel yourself across the room, across the universe, but your feet won’t budge. Your muscles are locked in this bump of panic, leaden and unyielding.

Somewhere in the fuzziness, Seokjin has moved but already returned, and you feel a set of cool hands on your cheeks as he comes into focus, gently stroking behind your ears and saying something to you.

“–ow that it’s hard but I need you to breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

His face is concerned, and it twists your stomach even further. He shouldn’t be doing this. You should remember how to fucking breathe on your own. But then again, isn’t that why he’s here anyway? Because you can’t do shit on your own? Can’t hold boundaries, can’t stay in school or keep it together. Can’t live somewhere nicer where you don’t smell the stomach-turning stench of the sink’s old plumbing next to you, metallic and stale. And definitely can’t even remember how to mind your business or breathe like a person.

You rush down the hall, into the living room, snapping the book off the couch. You shove it behind a cushion.

Your father walks in the door, and from the look on his face, you can tell the presentation didn’t go well.

“What’s all this?” he snaps, and gestures to the left-out vacuum and the bucket of water you’d gathered earlier. All the bubbles from the soap have long popped, leaving a heavy, sickening floral scent in the room from the solution.

“I, oh–”

“Your daughter spent all day reading instead of doing her chores. So unless you have a McDonald’s hamburger in your briefcase, we have nothing for dinner.” Your mother interjects, huffing as she heads into your parents bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Your father’s eyes narrow, and this is how it begins. He and your mother slamming, stomping, hitting, and crashing in every interaction they have with an inanimate object around you.

He chucks his suitcase onto the table of the small dining area, then whips open the fridge door a few feet away.

“Y/N, come here.”

You tiptoe in behind him, needing desperately to do the opposite of him, to show that you aren’t mad that they’re mad. That you understand exactly what you did wrong.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? They’re going to show you anyway. He moves aside and you peer into the fridge.

“What do you see in there?” he asks, restrained.

“Um, some celery, lettuce, dressing, milk…”

He growls, indicating that this isn’t the right answer. You’re wrong again. “Food, Y/N. This is food. That your mother and I work hard to put on the table so you can sit around and read your books. Food that needs to be eaten. Do you understand?”

You say nothing. You know the question is rhetorical.

“So, when we ask so little of you to simply take the food out of the freezer or fridge and thaw it, how can it be so hard? Hm? Here let me show you.”

He reaches in, and begins pulling and pulling the veggies, marinades, dressings, milk, eggs, cheeses and meats, and crowding the counter top. You’re frozen, unable to walk away, to ask him to stop.

When he’s done, he looks at you.

“See? Not so hard, huh? And if you were helpful to us, none of this would have happened. Honestly, your selfishness sometimes,” he says. “Now, go get me that book of yours. I think you know you haven’t earned it right now.”

You should go peel it out from under the couch cushions. Should hand it to him, then put all the groceries back away, because you know he’s not going to do it with you here. You should apologize. Accept punishment.

But instead, you’re nauseous and shaking and sobbing.

He waits expectedly. And then he shoves past you to your room, beginning to hunt through your clothes on the floor, under your bed.

“Where is it Y/N?”

You don’t follow him. Instead, you run. You grab the book from behind the cushion, shove your shoes onto your feet and run into the heat of the ending day with it in your hands, the heat from the sidewalk still boiling up underneath you.

Your parents don’t run out the door or into the street behind you. They stay in your home, possibly putting it back together. But you don’t care. You run, until you see the light of the convenience store and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse.

Inside the cool air, Wonwoo is helping his father place drinks from their crates into the refrigerator. His eyes are wide as you plow in.

You have so much you want to tell him, so much worry in your chest. Your cheeks are hot and your body is sweaty. Nothing is coming out. Just the hum of the fridges, and Wonwoo’s father rushing to get his mother.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can’t do anything to answer, just stare at his soft face as you well up with tears. You shove the book toward him wordlessly.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asks again, and you inhale steeply but choke on the air. A bubble of saliva clods your tongue.

“Please, take this. Hide it,” you urge. He holds his hands out and takes the book.

“Um, okay. Tuck Everlasting, I’ve never read this one.” He looks back up at you and winces.

“Hey, hey, breathe Y/N. You need to breathe.”

Seokjin is standing in front of you, coaxing breaths from you, wasting his time after cooking you dinner like it’s something you deserve. Like you’re not just doing all of this anyway because you can’t control yourself to not have feelings for him. Tears singe your eyes and you gasp another shallow breath.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise I’m not mad.” Seokjin breaks through your thoughts, his voice gentle, and almost like he hears you in this silent exchange, some constant that is numbing this spiral. You feel yourself inhale a little more fully as you understand he’s not upset or annoyed. “Good, you’re doing good. Let’s breathe another breath, okay?”

You can’t look away. Even if you wanted to, Seokjin’s touch is keeping you focused completely on him, his soft and kind eyes, his plush lips that he’s holding in a slight frown that won’t shake. One that you can tell is worry.

“Another breath, sweetheart. Good, good girl. That’s really good, Y/N. Okay, keep doing that for a second okay?” One hand releases from your cheek, and you find yourself pressing harder into the other, needing him to touch you and keep guiding you back, needing that security of him.

He doesn’t move it away, in fact he pushes himself closer, holds the weight of you in his palm tenderly, and then you see in your periphery what he moved to get: a glass of water.

“I want you to take three small sips of this for me, okay? Slowly.” He holds the rim of the cup up to your lips, tilting it slightly. You open your mouth slightly, letting a trickle of cold water flood into the hot cavern of your mouth, extinguishing so much of the tight, fiery panic that moves through the rest of your body.

You do as he says, sipping and swallowing slowly until he pulls the glass away and sets it down behind you.

“You with me?” he whispers, and you breathe.

“Yes,” you say.

“Can I touch your arm?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, so you knit your brow and gaze up at him, confused.

“What?”

“Can I touch your arm? I want to move us out of the kitchen and into your bedroom if that’s okay?” His voice is still quiet, and you realize that the hum of the light is so loud it’s almost drowning him out, almost drowning you again.

Your eyes flash wide and you nod. You see him relax a little, and slowly Seokjin untangles the web of your bodies away from the kitchen, into the cool air of your living room. Why is it so cold?

Seokjin guides you through it, and through the doorway to your bedroom. Before you even realize it, he’s unbuttoning his pink shirt and draping it over you.

“Is this okay? You’re shaking.”

You go to tell him yes, of course it’s okay, and then notice your teeth are gritted tight from trying not to chatter.

You take another breath. “Yes,” you squeak.

He pulls down the duvet and gestures for you to sit. “I’m going to put this blanket on you so I can help you warm up.” You feel the soft, heavy weight and start to feel a little better. But without Seokjin holding you, tethering you back into your body, you feel like you might float away any second. You shoot him a panicked look and he seems to understand, drawing the blanket back so he is also swaddled in it, the two of you knee to knee as he pinches the blanket closed with his fist.

“You can touch me if you’d like,” he says, and this, you realize, is what you need.

You immediately shift forward, putting your face into his white t-shirt, inhaling that minty, fresh cologne he wears. You can feel his chest rising and falling slowly, evenly, and you match your breathing to his, hoping soon your heartbeat slows to the same rate. Your hands twist into his shirt but it’s not enough. You find one of his hands and take it, lacing your fingers together and resting them in your lap.

The heaviness is nice, stabilizing, but you know you still need something more.

“Seokjin?” Your voice sounds foreign to you.

“Yeah?”

“Will you hold me for a minute?”

His hand untangles from yours and he moves to place it around your back, but with you two cross legged and facing each other, it’s an awkward embrace.

“I’m sorry, this is such a weird position. If you’re okay with it, you can sit in my lap? If you want? And then I can just hold you for a second?”

You nod and sit up, unfolding your legs and wiggling yourself up so you are on his lap. You wrap your legs around his back, then your arms. And then you feel his arms around you, his fingers lazily tracing the length of your spine.

You feel yourself sinking deeper back into the safety of your body.

You both sit like this for a long time. So long that you feel yourself starting to grow hazy and sleepy. Seokjin is warm and soft and so soothing. You feel like you’re untangling from a sharp web that has been trapping you for a long time. And when your alarm for your stream goes off, you turn off your phone.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks and you huff out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for all the dramatics.” You slide yourself out of his grip and flop back onto your bed, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“What do you mean? You weren’t being dramatic, Y/N, you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah, over asking you a highly personal question I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for that too.”

“I’m not-it’s-look. Panic attacks aren’t ever just one thing. It’s always a compounding of stress and anxiety and other thoughts and feelings. You just came across the one thought or feeling that forced everything to collapse. And I can guess based on how much you’re apologizing, it was probably you doing that shit inside and beating yourself up that knocked all the rest of this stuff down. I told you, I’m not mad. Or insulted that you asked.”

He goes on. “Which, by the way, I’m not bi or gay. I’m very straight. But that’s not the point. The point is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You asked me a question. I have a right to choose to answer it or not. So there’s your answer. And also, you are never dramatic to me. Panic attacks are fucking scary; you felt like you were dying, right?”

You nod. “Drowning, yeah.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, those things are no joke. But you came out on the other side of it.”

“Not without your help though. You seem like you know a lot about these when they happen. Do you get them too?”

He flushes. “Uh, no, I don’t personally. My friend Yoongi has them sometimes. He taught me a lot about how to help him with them. The cold water trick really is from him. And then also when Soon Yi and I were together, she would have them, but those were a bit different.” He looks down at his hands.

Soon Yi. So that’s her. The person Seokjin has often stopped himself talking about. The one who his parents would occasionally refer to as “that woman” during shifts when he wasn’t around. No one ever said her name, almost like she was some kind of curse and you always were curious why. You assumed she must be the devil incarnate the way his mother would sling a bunch of insults after she was mentioned, but the way Seokjin now says her name so casually, so personally, you aren’t entirely sure if he sees her that way.

Parents usually carry a greater grudge than their child who was hurt. Your own father has told you on various occasions that the guy you dated for one summer in undergrad, who coincidentally is his barber’s nephew, will never be allowed in his house ever again. Forget the fact that there’s no reason he would be invited over in the first place. Whenever you’re catching up with your parents on the phone, if he has recently visited his barber, he’s sure to bring it up. “Scum is never allowed in my house! He will just drag his filth in with him!”

Thinking of your father and mother right now forces you to wince. Maybe it’s the freshness of these memories, of you realizing now that what happened to you that day as a child wasn’t you being dramatic, as they had insisted even after you’d gotten home. Everything had been put back into place when you’d returned after the sunset, even the bucket and vacuums put away. Your parents never apologized or talked about it again.

And your friend, she didn’t talk to you after that either, claiming you were flaky and rude for blowing her off.

Your father doesn’t even refer to your ex by name, similar to Seokjin’s mother. “That Woman”. “Scum”. If there was ever a name tied to these people, it’s clearly gone in the haze of whatever angry frenzy your parents carry. “Scum” also didn’t even do anything wrong. You broke things off with him, but because you came home crying after the breakup, now that is his legacy.

But Seokjin’s mother, how she behaves, you’re not sure that it’s for the same reasons. You’ve seen firsthand how much she adores her children, and “adoration” is a word you aren’t so sure applies to your family.

Soon Yi, too, it’s clear she was not just a blip on the screen in Seokjin’s life. The hushed, angry chatter between his parents, the way his mother would often get so worked up she would start punching her shoulder and clicking her tongue, saying she needed to go sit down. That’s not a Scum-level relationship. You wonder how close she was to Seokjin. Closer than you two are becoming, clearly.

“Soon Yi,” you repeat to yourself, still lost in the haze of putting things together.

“Um, my ex.” Seokjin says, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as you realize he heard you. “We were engaged. For a while.”

“Oh.”

You want to ask how long he means by a while? Did they break up right before you joined the restaurant? Or was this from many years ago? It’s odd in a way to think of how Seokjin has lived a completely different life from the time before you knew him. He loved someone, enough to marry them, to start a life together, to know she had panic attacks and how to help her.

Did he place her in his lap the same way he did with you? Did he sit with her in the dull winter light of their bedroom and talk like this?

He had to have. Why wouldn’t he? Your stomach dips. Were you under some impression that this thing you’re experiencing–the closeness of his body, the soft thrum of his heart, that tiny whistle in his throat that breaks through the room as he speaks–would be special?

The dim light of the lamp on your bedside table makes the deep browns of his eyes look even darker, and he watches you as you stretch your legs out in front of you, your foot shifting a bit to rest up against his thigh. His eyes flicker toward it and then back to you.

“How, when did you guys break up? I didn’t know you were engaged,” you ask gently. He sighs, and then slumps a bit, the careful, rigid posture he was holding for so long finally loosening a bit with his exhale. He bends his knees and pulls his legs up, glancing to the other side of your bed.

You pat the spot next to you, turning over so he knows it’s no imposition.

And it’s not, not in the slightest. If you weren’t so fried and exhausted after that panic attack, your brain might try to imbue some innuendo into this moment, but for now, this is all you can do, and you want that ache in your stomach to go away. You want to feel like this is special.

Seokjin flops down into the pile of oddball plushies and pillows next to you and you snort, smiling as he carefully tucks the plushie he smashed in his landing into his arms.

“I’m sure my parents have talked about her enough times for you to know everything,” he scoffs.

“Not really. I didn’t know her name. I just thought she was some girlfriend you had that she hated because she was keeping you away from her. You know, the same way your mother also says that the really old lady down the road who sells flowers keeps your dad away from her.”

He smirks at this, and his fingers rove over the marble eyes of the plushie.

“My mother would blame the sun if it kept her family away from her. She’s been messaging the group chat nonstop for updates from my hyung’s wife about the pregnancy. And she’s supposed to be somewhere in Iceland right now on a cruise. Honestly I wish she would just enjoy herself.”

“Well, she cares. About you especially. Which is maybe why she didn’t air all of your business to me when I was mopping the floors and she counted down the drawers. She just would say that I would be better than “That Woman” but I think she might think anyone would be better than her.”

“She said that to you? Ugh, eomma.”

She did, one late night, when Seokjin left early for “something urgent”. His mother alleged that he was dating a secret new girlfriend that he kept under wraps.

“Honestly, he acts as if I’m going to eat her alive or something. Tsk. That son of mine, both he and his brother are going to send me to an early grave. Behind my back like this when I’m getting older by the minute. Ever since he and that woman broke up, he shut down. I tried to set him up with someone and he kept saying no! That he would find someone. But if she was any better than the others, wouldn’t he have brought her around by now,” she’d said.

She slammed some coins back into the register. You jumped at the sound.

She sighed. “You know what he needs? Someone like you. Someone with vision! That woman never had any of that. So much more focused on status. You’re not like that Y/N. I can tell. And that’s exactly why I hired you. You can’t teach someone that as an adult. They either have it or don’t, and you. You’ve got exactly it.”

You didn’t really know what “it” was, but you didn’t argue, and soon she moved on to complain about something else.

Now, knowing Seokjin’s secret, you think you know where he went that night, and it definitely wasn’t to go hide in his lover’s house. Chances were, he was streaming. And that also would explain why he shut down on her so quickly. You can’t imagine Mrs. Kim’s reaction if she found out Seokjin was a gay cam streamer. Despite being straight.

It dawns on you. You’d been so distracted with that panic attack that you forgot already that Seokjin is in fact interested in women. Solely. Enough to have been engaged to one.

“But, back to your story,” you prod, trying to distract yourself from the fact that now none of this feels like just friends sharing. Seokjin hisses in some air as if he agrees.

“Right. Well, Soon Yi and I were together really in college and on. We started dating really young. Just two kids. And then we just kind of stuck together? She and I were together for a long time before I got the nerve to propose. And then…” He trails off, his face now a deeper blush. Is he embarrassed?

You lick your lips, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to share, but he waves his hand to quiet you.

“She cheated on me. With my boss. We were in the midst of planning the wedding and everything. I was supposed to get this big promotion at the end of some large conferences. But, I don’t know. We had grown apart. Suddenly we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything.”

Your jaw drops, caught on that larger detail. “She cheated on you with your boss? After all that time? God, Seokjin, I'm so sorry. That’s awful.”

He smiles and nods. “That’s not even the worst part,” he says. His smile grows bigger, like this is some huge joke. “She cheated on me multiple times with him while I was away. And I caught them. Uh, you know. On my dining room table when I came back early to surprise her. I did not get the promotion by the way. But, she actually has a baby, or I guess a toddler, with him now. I heard she’s pregnant again, they’re married. It’s all some surreal life. And now I’m here.”

“Um, you’re right, it was worse than that.” You’re really not sure what to say. Seokjin’s becoming harder to read by the second, turning this conversation into some big joke when it’s not really funny to you on your end. Maybe he’s processed it enough by now, but based on how tightly he’s now squeezing your alpaca plushie, you would wager that he doesn’t really find it funny either.

“Is this,” you take a breath. “Is this why the other night you said you were a failure? Because of what happened with Soon Yi?”

“Partly. I mean, it’s not like I did too great of a job keeping her satisfied. She clearly found other ways to do that.” He laughs darkly.

“That’s not how that works you know,” you say. His eyebrows lift.

“What do you mean?”

“What you just said. Keeping her satisfied. Isn’t it the job of being a human to keep ourselves satisfied? Find things with meaning and joy? It’s not your fault that she chose to do that. To cheat on you, to not be honest when she started feeling differently. She could have told you at any point. Did she?”

He sighs. “Not really, no. Soon Yi wasn’t great at communicating with me about things like that. For so long, we just knew what the other person needed. Because we’d been together since we were so young, we had come up with some other kind of language. And my friends, too, they were in on it. She was not always going to tell someone how she felt but she would show them. For Jungkook’s 21st birthday she threw him an “American Stereotype” themed birthday which he was always obsessing over from the videos. Bought a bunch of red solo cups, they played that Miley Cyrus song and bought a bunch of discounted Fourth of July partyware. She was one of us.”

Even now, despite everything, Seokjin is speaking so kindly about someone who hurt him. And honestly, it throws you. You are so used to the men you’ve been around talking so poorly of their exes that you didn’t know someone could experience such a negative thing and not immediately resort to extreme name calling.

That’s just how good Seokjin is. Enough to not be mad at you for asking questions, for panicking. Enough to speak kindly about others even if it might be eating at him.

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault though,” you stifle a yawn. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Maybe we should shelve this conversation for another time,” he says.

“No, no, I want to hear. I want to know all of it.”

“You were supposed to start your scheduled stream an hour ago.”

“Change of plans. I’m not streaming tonight.”

“Do your subs know that?”

“Don’t call them that. They’re subscribers not subs. Sub is something you do.”

Jesus. Please don’t let him cling to that. Please don’t let that give away that I know.

“Pfft. Okay, do your subscribers know you’re not streaming anymore?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s created this distance on purpose and now the moment has passed.

Fine, you’ll get more from him about this eventually. You need to understand how Soon Yi impacted him. You don’t really know why, but you can’t help but feel like knowing more might make you feel less uneasy about all of this. About you and Seokjin and what this could all maybe mean someday.

“I can post about it,” you say softly and he nods.

“That might be a good idea. You’ve had a big day. A big panic attack, you probably need some sleep.”

Your stomach sinks at the idea that he might leave after this, and you’re still not sure you want to be alone. You chew your lip.“What I really need is some pizza,” you say.

Seokjin smirks. “Good thing for you, I know exactly where we can find some.”

“Thank you again for the pizza,” you said, nibbling on the edge of one crust. “I didn’t think I could be that hungry after eating so much earlier.”

Seokjin took another swig of beer, shrugging. “Well, you’ve had a big day, and you burned energy and probably calories earlier.”

Your panic attack may have seemed to you like it was coming out of nowhere, but to Seokjin, it wasn’t. He had noticed your embarrassment the second after you asked him that question, saw you spiral inside yourself as you tried to huff air. He wasn’t sure what really triggered it, but he also knew he didn’t want to leave you after that.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Yes, Yoongi had his share, and it took a little while to learn what ways he could be soothed. Soon Yi’s were different, though. A lot more similar to yours.

When they had started experimenting sexually, there would be times in which she would fall so quickly into panic, like she couldn’t give up control. And from that point on, sometimes she would spiral deeper, into some pit of shame where whatever they were doing, even if it wasn’t super kinky, led to these shaking, sub-drop-like breakdowns. They were more rare, but they did happen, especially earlier in their relationship.

At the time, Seokjin didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did Soon Yi. Just that she sometimes would flip on him during foreplay when he would get a little more confident and dominant, or if he started falling into a scene that she had asked them to do, using the script the way she asked, it would happen anyway. Almost like she was fighting between what she wanted and who she expected herself to be.

And that’s in a way how you seemed to be too. Maybe you weren’t like this sexually, and he would unpack that idea later. But in this intimate space of your home, it was like Seokjin was experiencing some type of whiplash as you went from being so uncomfortable about asking about his sexuality to you lying next to him in your bed talking about his ex.

He wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. He understood that especially after a panic attack, people were desperate for closeness and intimacy, and whatever reaction he had to your panic, you felt soothed and safe with him. He was being let into your world little by little, even if you were fighting yourself to let it happen.

He wanted that. He wanted this: you two eating cold pizza on the floor of your living room, you chewing happily and Seokjin warm and full of life watching you do it.

You even let him make adjustments to your space, laughing and applauding him after he ripped some of the clean cardboard from one of the pizza boxes and made shims to prop up and balance your oven and fridge. He found if he scooted the couch slightly to the left and your entertainment system got turned a few inches, you could completely see the TV from anywhere on the couch. You dove to the other side almost immediately, whooping when you realized you wouldn’t have to strain yourself to see anymore.

You were comfortable. He made you comfortable.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you said, your hand caressing over the soft roll of your stomach to demonstrate how full you were. Then, a deep burp echoed into the room. Your eyes widened. “Oh, wow, sorry. Excuse me,” you said suppressing a chuckle.

But Seokjin was already laughing, his body shaking at the sound. “So polite for someone who made that noise.”

The tenseness in your shoulders fell and you gave in, laughing next to him. “Listen! It was good, and the carbonation of the beer is making me have to burp!”

“Sure, sure. That’s what it is. You know I’ve seen those memes about how women don’t fart or burp or poop and I’m onto you! You have one strike. If you fart or shit I’m going to prove that meme false.”

You scoff, tears leaking out the side of your eyes. “Well good thing for you, I will not deny those allegations. I don’t just poop, I shit.”

Seokjin choked on his next sip of beer, spluttering some of it out of his nose. “Oh shit.” Tears flowed from his eyes from the sting, and he grasped for some napkins near the pizza.

You weren’t much better off, coughing heavily into your shirt as you tried to recover. This, this was everything he could ever want. Afterward, you both cleaned up the kitchen and pizza together, finishing off the six-pack of beer until your yawns were impossible to ignore.

“It’s really late, Y/N. You should go to sleep,” he said. He hated himself for suggesting it, almost wishing that you would extend the invitation to stay. Even then, though, he would have to decline.

“Or we could, I don’t know, play a game or something?” As you said this, you stifled another yawn.

He chuckled. You were stalling, he could tell. And he wasn’t strong enough to say no. “Hm, okay how about this. We can hang out in your room and I’ll tell you more about me. But you have to get ready for bed first, otherwise it’s no deal.”

Your eyelids were heavy, but you beamed anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

You went into your room, grabbing some clothes before shutting yourself into the bathroom to get ready. Seokjin paced your living room, scanning the book shelves, a variety of titles he’d never seen before in the stacks. But there was one, a smaller and thinner book that had more wear and tear than the rest. He slid it out carefully and held it in his hands. Tuck Everlasting, a book he’d read in elementary school about a teenager who met a family that drank from a tree’s magical spring and lived forever.

Based on your copy, he could tell it was well-loved and read many times. How old were you when you read it, he wondered. Did you want to run away into the woods like he did afterward, trying to find a magical spring of your own?

The bathroom door opened, and he carefully slotted the book back onto the shelf before turning to you. You were wearing an oversized T-shirt and some very, very short pajama shorts. Your legs looked so soft to touch. His hand twitched.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m ready.”

Seokjin wasn’t. But he followed you into the darkness of your room anyway, laid himself down next to you on the bed as you tucked yourself under the blankets. Your eyes shimmered as you looked at him, now way more awake than you had appeared just ten minutes ago.

Were you hustling him?

“You need to crawl under the blankets too. Otherwise they’ll constrict me and I will absolutely not fall asleep like you have clearly planned,” you tease.

You were hustling him. He liked it.

He chuckled and obeyed, folding back the comforter and sheets to get in. But in doing so, he revealed you with your shorts already bunched up on your thighs, exposing your lacy panties at your hip. Your shirt was riding up, and he could see a tiny bit of your stomach peeking out.

God fucking help him. He managed a deep breath, begging himself not to get hard, or for his body to at least wait until you wouldn’t see him getting hard and he was under the covers. This wasn’t the time. Not after all the emotionality of the day. But his dick didn’t know that.

Your covers smelled like you, soft and even a little sweet and you really had to be fucking with him because you shoved yourself even closer to him under the covers, so that there were just a few inches between you two. He felt your body heat radiating from you.

“There,” you sighed, and he smelled a hint of your mint toothpaste. His mouth watered. “Now, where were we?”

No, but where were you really? He didn’t remember, didn’t know where to start. And then it clicked.

“Mmm, you were going to go to sleep I think,” he said.

You frowned, your nose wrinkling. “No, that’s not true. Or it was. I’m not tired now.”

“Give it a minute, I’m sure soon your eyelids won’t be able to stay open.”

“Sure, but yours are heavy now too. So you must be tired. Now it’s a competition.” You were right. His eyelids were heavy, and he was tired. But he knew his body, especially as keyed up as he was getting, wasn’t about to let him fall asleep any time soon.

“I think I’ll win that one,” he laughed lightly.

“Doubt it,” you challenged, and you shifted your legs, now a little less comfy and more antsy. You slowly released a breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asked, and you didn’t hesitate to nod.

“I want to know more about you. It’s nice to put the puzzle pieces of you together in my head.” Your voice was growing husky.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. A beat passed. Neither of you moved to say anything, just looked at each other.

Shouldn’t this be awkward? Shouldn’t all of this feel wrong? Somewhere in his mind, the logical response was yes, this is weird and he should leave. But then he would be leaving you after a hard day, when you clearly were trying to avoid him leaving by going so far as to keep yourself awake to stare at him. To try to get to know him. And that’s what rooted him now. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Maybe you were only being needy. But he also felt needy right now. And for the moment, logic could fuck off.

So he pushed it away, letting the parts of him he liked most bubble to the surface, the parts that led without overthinking and just acted on what he wanted.

He moved slightly closer to you, and you blanched, a little taken aback, but you recovered quickly. “

I’m cold,” you said. He knew it was a lie. He could feel the heat of you.

“Here,” he replied, and he pulled the blanket open slightly so you could wiggle forward, resting yourself against his chest.

He angled himself carefully, trying so hard to avoid the rest of your bodies touching, but it was impossible, so he pulled you closer, letting every part of you rest against him.

“Tell me,” you muttered.

“What should I tell you?” he whispered back.

“I don’t know. Anything.” You were fading quickly, and he was relieved. Sad that he would have to go soon, but relieved that you were finally resting.

“Okay,” he said, even softer. “I think if I ever drank from a magical spring, I would do a better job hiding it than the Tuck family did.”

You hummed in response, and then he felt your head nod into his chest as you fell fully asleep.

#bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #thanks for the sub

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lovegalor333 · 20 days ago

Text

fresh start

part four (chapter 10-12) previous part • next part

word count: 6.9k

content warnings: vomit

Lily

Time was moving fast in my first semester in Connecticut. August had flown by in a whirlwind of classes, new friends, finding my feet at work and navigating mine and Paiges clandestine meetings.

As September dwindled on we debated telling our nearest and dearest hoping to be able to spend more time together outside of our cars and closed bedroom doors. We ultimately decided to keep things under wraps a little longer, the reason going unspoken but the truth was, how could we explain us to others when we hadn't even defined us to us?

I could confidently say that Paige was the only person I was entertaining and I intended to keep it that way. I couldn't speak for the blue eyed girl but I was equally confident that I was the only person she was entertaining. I mean it would be hard for her to have anyone else in her life, between training, classes and work commitments she barely had time to just be and when she did, she was tucked away in a corner of Storrs with me.

We spent most evenings buckled in our cars, taking turns to be the passenger and driver. Paige enjoyed being behind the wheel so I took the role of passenger princess most of the time but I didn't mind. Getting to watch Paige do the simplest of tasks like driving brought me so much contentment.

We frequented the Fro-Yo store we went to on our first date - which Paige now refused to call a date because of its simplicity and spontaneity.

"I want a re-do." She had said when I mentioned our first date on our first return to the store. "Why?" I questioned, not seeing an issue with the frozen yogurt store being part of our history. "Because you deserve more." She told me and promised a 'proper' first date.

I didn't care where I was with Paige just being with her was more than enough.

While our roommates were out, we bunkered down in our apartments watching movies and sharing our favourite TV shows, silently slipping out before anyone returned home and caught us tangled together.

Kelsey was definitely getting suspicious of my actions but I'd been able to play it off, blaming work and an ungodly amount of 'library sessions'. Lucky for me, she had picked up a job which meant more of her time was occupied meaning she was less focused on my whereabouts.

Paige and I still managed to spend time with each other around our friends, it just meant no PDA but that didn't stop the stolen glances and covert touches shared.

"Do you have to leave?" Paige dramatically wined, her bottom lip poking out and eyes hooded making her look like a sad puppy.

"Yes, P." I say peeling myself off the girl that was spread out on her bed, me tucked perfectly into her side like we were two pieces of a puzzle that were made to be connected.

"The girls will be back any second and I have dinner plans with Hannah and Kels." I remind her.

"Fine." She says feigning annoyance.

Paige had texted me to come over after Azzi, Nika, Ice, KK and Ines had left for late Friday classes and I immediately complied. Time with Paige, after a long week of studying and writing up notes for Marcus to turn into articles, was just what I had needed to shut off.

"But I'll see you tomorrow right? You're coming to the party?" Paige asks and I nod my head as I stretch out my hands for Paige to take and I pull her up from her bed.

There was a party on campus tomorrow in one of the frat houses and apparently it wasn't to be missed.

"We're having pre drinks here, come with the girls." She tells me referring to my roommates.

"Sure." I say melting into Paiges arms as she hugged me goodbye.

Before I had the chance to make my escape, the apartment door clicked open and a series of voices filled the once quiet space.

Paige and I quickly released each other from our grips and sent one another a panicked look, the girls were home and what excuse did we have for being together?

Paiges bedroom door was open and anyone in the living room could see directly in and that's exactly what Azzi did.

"Oh hey Lily! What are you doing here?" She greeted, joining me and Paige in her room.

"Hey Azzi!" I replied racking my brain for an answer to her question.

Paige stayed awkwardly silent by my side, thanks P.

We both watched as Azzi looked between us and then to Paiges bed which was a bundle of blankets with a clear mould of where our bodies laid just minutes ago. Her eyebrows raised in a knowing way and she smiled before turning and walking out, back to the living room.

"Well if she didn't already, I think Azzi knows." I laugh turning to Paige.

She pulls me out of the view of the door, "I trust Azzi." She says pressing a short quick kiss to my lips, neither of us daring to deepen it incase another one of her roommates walked in.

I managed to leave Paiges apartment with no more questions asked and left her to explain to Azzi what she'd interpreted.

Saturday slipped quietly away in a mix of alone time and relaxed small talk with my roommates. We were all lounging around our living room, each occupying a corner of the couch, phones in hand.

Kelsey was playing TikToks out loud occasionally turning her phone to the rest of us when there was a video we 'needed to see'.

I was texting Paige, us both excited about seeing each other later on that night. After a talk with her best friend, it was concluded that Azzi did in fact know that there was something going on between us. She had noticed Paige slipping out of the apartment at random times, not returning for hours and her sudden uninsterest to do things she would usually never say no to. Paige reiterated that she trusted Azzi and if she did, I did too.

are you going to tell kelsey?

idk

i feel pretty bad, with our pact and all

kelseys cool

im sure she'd understand

im just too irresistible to keep a promise like that

ha ha.

im not sure what id even tell her

wdym?

well the pact was to stay single

im not your girlfriend?

dont be like that

like what?

dont make me feel bad for questioning what we are

we're getting to know each other like we said

you suggested it

i know, im enjoying it

you also agreed

me too

like a lot

lets talk about this when we're together

I felt bad saying that I wasn't Paiges girlfriend so bluntly but it was the truth and it didn't mean I wasn't committed to her and only her because I was. Clarity on the situation would be nice but Paige was right, we were still getting to know each other at my suggestion to do so.

Yesterday marked one month since we'd met so it made sense that we were still taking things slow but something in me deep down felt like I'd known Paige longer than four weeks.

I was pulled from my thoughts as Madison asked everyone what they planned on wearing to the party and the discussion quickly escalated into a full blown planning session. Outfits, hair and makeup all being a topic.

Paige

"Well she's right. She's not your girlfriend." Azzi said matter-of-factly from her place at the end of my bed.

I had shown my best friend the texts between me and Lily hoping for some good ol' Azzi wisdom.

"I know that but it still hurt to read it. Do you think she's talking to other people?" I ask propping myself up on my elbow so I could look at my friend properly.

"From what you've told me, I don't think she has the time! Y'all spend all your free time together." She pointed out and she was right, if Lily wasn't with me she was either in class or at work and I knew that for a fact because I frequently drove her there wanting to spent as much time with the girl as possible.

"Do you want her to be your girlfriend?"

I hadn't thought about it but I supposed I did, I was just extremely aware what it would come with. Not just a million questions from our friends but also the media and I had a college career to think about it. I knew being with Lily officially wouldn't jeopardise my basketball in anyway but the pressure of a public relationship was something I'd never dealt with before and if I was honest, it scared me.

"Eventually, yes." I admit now fully sitting up on my bed.

"OK, so if you know where it's headed, don't stress the journey Paige."

"I want her to know I'm serious though."

"Then tell her, it's that simple."

Azzi was right, she always was, unfortunately.

Azzi and I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the apartment for our arranged pre drinks. We did a Target run for supplies and picked up a crazy amount of liquor.

"A party on campus means no DD." Azzi triumphed as we packed several crates of beer and bottles of spirits into my trunk.

If we were ever out drinking off campus, a few of the team always stayed sober to ensure we would make it home safe but that didn't need to happen tonight, the party was in walking distance.

"Music to my ears." I say as we climb back into the car.

"So you're going to let loose for once?"

I almost always volunteered to be a DD, mainly to save myself from deathly hangovers the next morning but also because drunk Paige got very messy, very quickly especially when cameras were around and my teammates had a love of livestreaming.

"Dirty Shirleys all night." I smirked beginning our short drive back to campus to begin getting ready.

I also think a little dutch courage wouldn't go amiss when it came to telling Lily that I was locked in when it came to us.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

For the first time since meeting her, I was nervous to see Paige. Our text conversation earlier in the day weighed heavy on my mind. She wanted to talk about us when we saw each other but I'm not sure a frat house party was the best setting for such a loaded topic. Even though she had reassured me that she was enjoying what we had going on - whatever it was - there was still a voice in the back of my mind that told me I wasn't good enough for Paige.

"Lils, are you ready?" Madison asked peeking her head into my bedroom as I spritzed my favourite perfume on my wrists and collarbones.

"Yep! Coming now." I replied, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, my phone, wallet and keys nestled perfectly inside.

I checked my outfit one last time in my full length mirror, I had gone for a simple black mini skirt and white baby tee with some black boots and an oversized leather jacket, before joining my roommates in the living room.

"You guys look amazing!" I complemented seeing my friends fully ready for tonight's party.

"Says you!" Hannah responds, "Paige is going to be like a dog with a bone!"

I look to Kelsey as she says this to gauge her reaction. I had told Paige I would tell her about us but hadn't had the chance to yet. I didn't want to disappoint her at my lack of loyalty to our pact, our friendship meant a lot to me.

"I'm sure Paige has lots of bones." I say trying to play off Hannahs comment but just voicing that made me recoil. The thought of Paige with anyone else the way I'd been with her made me want to hurl.

"And she'd be crazy to not choose you. You're for sure the juiciest." Kelsey quips playfully smacking my ass and we all laugh.

My friends relaxed demeanour about the topic of me and Paige put my anxious thoughts at ease.

"OK, enough with the bone metaphors, lets go!" Madison piped up, leading us out of the door.

Kelsey and I walked together behind Hannah and Madison as we made our way across campus to the girls' apartment for pre drinks.

"What's up?" She asks, nudging me gently. I'd not said a word so far, trying to work out the right ones.

"So..." I begin, "I've kinda been hanging out with Paige a lot recently."

She gasps dramatically, hands over her chest, "Really? I would have never guessed."

I look at her seriously, has it been that obvious?

"Are you mad?"

"Mad? About how long it's taken you to tell me? Yes."

"But our pact...our bracelets...I don't want you to think-"

"Girl, those bracelets cost me like $2, don't sweat it." She says placing a reassuring hand on my arm.

"Really?"

"Really. Besides, I don't know who I was fooling telling myself I'd be single an entire semester. I'm already so bored, I got a job!" She laughs.

"This wasn't my intention, it just kind of happened naturally and the more time we spend together, the more I'm realising how much I actually like Paige." I confess.

"OK lover girl, you've got a lot to catch me up on tomorrow!" She says as we reach our destination.

We take the elevator to Paiges floor, my roommates following behind me as I navigate us to the front door brandishing a number 9 and open it, letting us into the apartment.

"You can tell shes done this before." Kelsey comments and I turn around giving her a cheeky smirk.

"Hey girly pops!" KK greets us as we step inside, taking her time to hug us all.

Azzi and Ice are soon at our sides too, shot glasses in there hands, extended in our direction, "Shots on entry!" Ice announces and I take the small glass and swallow its content.

My eyes scan the room seeing the rest of the team. Jana, Caroline and Kayla are pouring drinks in the kitchen. Ines, Amari, Nika, Aubrey and Aaliyah are huddled around the table focused on some sort of drinking game that involved guessing what number one of them was thinking of. The others were scattered around engrossed in conversation. Everyone was in the living room apart from Paige.

"She's in her room." KK says into my ear as if reading my mind, "You know where that is."

"Thanks KK." I say to the girl as I make my way to Paiges bedroom.

It seems like Paige and I had been quite naive in thinking our movements had gone unnoticed.

"Hello, little miss unsocial." I smile leaning against the door frame.

Paiges head flicks up from her phone in a swift movement at the sound of my voice.

"Hello, little miss..." She looks me up and down and I blush under her gaze. "...hottie. Come here." She motions for me to join her as she stands up from the edge of her bed and I do.

She pulls me into a hug, both her arms slipping around my waist and mine going around her neck, her lips press to my neck and I melt at the sensation.

Suddenly any nerves I had about seeing Paige had disappeared and I don't know why they were there in first place because she has this way of making me feel like nothing bad exists in the world.

"Who are you looking so good for?" She asks, her voice low and husky.

"Oh, I don't know. There's this girl I'm getting to know." I say referencing our earlier texts, hoping to probe Paige into a conversation.

My hopes are answered with her response.

"Lily, I want to tell you that you're the only girl I'm getting to know. You're the only girl I want to know." She tells me, her hands moving from my waist to hold both of mine. Her words were rushed but no less clear and her signature, intense eye contact told me it was genuine.

A smile spread on my face as I processed what Paige had just said.

"P-"

"If you're talking to other people, that's fine." She cuts me off.

"P, you're the only girl I want to know too. Since you shook my hand in the gym, that first day we met, you've been the only girl."

"So you're not talking to anyone else?"

I laugh, "No, I'm not."

"Good because I lied, it wouldn't be fine." She says truthfully and I laugh again at her serious expression.

"How many drinks have you had?" I ask her smiling, now that I'm looking in her eyes, it's clear she's had a few.

"Two, maybe three. I was kinda nervous." She admits, breaking her eyes away from mine and looking down.

"You don't have to be nervous with me." I say lifting her face, my hand staying on her jaw, "I'm all in." I declare before leaning in and connecting our lips. She kisses me back passionately, her hands finding my hips and digging in pulling me closer to her, our bodies pressing against each other.

"All in." She says breathlessly as we break away and we both take each other in for a moment, big smiles of both our faces.

"Ever had a Dirty Shirley?" She asks smirking.

"Never."

"Oh, let me introduce you."

She grabs my hand and leads me out of her bedroom.

Our moment alone made me forget that everyone was just a room away and multiple sets of eyes fell on us as we emerged hand in hand in the living room. Paige didn't seem to notice or care as she continued to lead me to the kitchen.

I locked eyes with Kelsey who was stood beside Azzi, both girls grinning cheesily, and she shot me an exaggerated wink.

Gone were the days of sneaking around.

An ungodly amount of alcohol was consumed in the girls apartment in preparation for the party and it was safe to say we were beginning to feel the effects.

"Can you walk straight and stop bumping into me!" Ice barged KK away from her as we made our way to the frat house.

"I am walking straight!" KK argued but from my view from behind the girls, it was clear she was not at all walking straight.

"OK kids, stop arguing." Kayla fake scolds, pushing herself in between Ice and KK in a attempt to stop them bickering.

I laugh at the girls and the seemingly mundane moment but being here, with them, means the world to me after losing my old friends in the worst way possible.

"You good?" Paige asks me, her arm rested comfortably over my shoulders.

I hum in response and nod my head.

"Why you so quiet then pretty girl?"

"Trying to make sure I can walk in a straight line! Those Dirty Shirleys got me good!" I laughed.

"You know I've got the best taste!" Paige bragged and the once distant sound of music grew closer as we turned a corner.

"Well, I mean yeah, you do have the best taste." I joke motioning down at myself cockily.

"Damn right." Paige agrees, removing her arm from my shoulder and slipping her hand into mine as we enter the frat house.

The house was absolutely packed with people in every room and the music was so loud I could feel the bass in my chest.

"Drinks!" Jana ordered pointing over to the makeshift bar - a kitchen island laden with various different glass bottles, stacks of red solo cups and buckets of ice.

Paige poured us what she called 'Dirty Shirleys on the go' because they didn't have her usual ingredients but she refused to drink anything else.

Most of the girls dispersed in different directions once we each had drinks in our hands but I stayed with Paige, Azzi and Aubrey and we found ourselves next in line to play beer pong.

Paige

Lily and I had taken the L in beer pong and were being forced to drink a concoction of everyones drink mixed together as our forfeit.

"Ugh! That tastes like shit!" She exclaimed, her words slurred as she swallowed down the cocktail, her face screwed up in disgust.

"I'm not doing it." I prostest, my words equally as slurred as Lilys and I cross my arms over my chest refusing to take the cup from Azzi.

"Stop being a sore loser Bueckers!" Aubrey chimed in.

"I'm not! I just don't want to throw up." The mix of shots, multiple Dirty Shirleys and now beer was already enough to make my stomach churn.

"P, there's no way I just did that and you're not going to." Lily chimes in now, hands on her hips, staring me down.

"You're really going to let your girl do that by herself?" Azzi smirks knowing that will get the better of me.

"No...hand it over." I say defeated, taking the cup from Azzi and downing the liquid inside.

"That's fucking nasty!"

"Here, wash it down with that." Lily says handing me my original cup containing my favourite drink.

The sweetness of the Shirley Temple counteracted the harshness of the alcohol mix.

"This is my favourite song!" Lily did a small jump on the spot before disappearing off into the crowd of college kids to make her way closer to the booming speakers.

I followed after the petite girl, knowing how drunk she was and not wanting her to be alone in a frat house full of random people.

It didn't take me long to catch up with her and I admired the girl from afar - who somehow already had another drink in her hand. She moved effortlessly, her hips swaying to the rhythm of the music, her hands held above her head as she sang along to the lyrics.

"Come here!" She called over the music beckoning me to come closer.

I take the few steps needed to close the space between us and Lily latches onto my waist, still dancing until our bodies are moving as one.

We stayed dancing, our hands all over each other as if we're not surrounded by a fuck tonne of other people. People that probably know who I am. People that definitely have social media and could post about what they were witnessing, but I didn't care. Lily was mine and I was hers and I didn't care who knew.

Our moment came to an abrupt halt when Lily stopped moving and shot me a panicked look, "What's wrong?" I ask confused.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

I grab her hand and quickly manoeuvre us out of the crowded room and into the front yard. There's a trash can on the lawn and Lily rushes to it, bending over the barrel and throwing up. I hold back her hair to keep it out of the firing line.

She looks up at me with watery eyes, "I think I had one too many Dirty Shirleys." She murmurs, hands resting of the edge of the trash can to steady herself.

"And the rest." I joke still holding her hair back, out of her face.

"Home?" I sympathetically ask the defeated girl and she nods.

I sit Lily on the porch steps while I go back into the party to let everyone know we're leaving. Kelsey was preoccupied with someone I recognised from the soccer team and Ice reassured me that her and the other girls would make sure she made it home safely.

I get back to Lily and she's exactly where I left her, her head rested on the porch beam, eyes closed. Even though she was extremely drunk and had just thrown up she still looked angelic as ever with the moonlight reflecting on her face, lighting up her features.

I felt bad disturbing her but we had to get home, my apartment was closest so we headed there. I kept my hand securely round her waist as I lead us away from the party.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick again?" I ask Lily as we enter my apartment, the remnants of our pre drinks still scattered across the living room.

"No, I think I'm good now." She says softly.

I take her into my bathroom, "Stay there." I tell her and she salutes me.

I go into my bedroom and find a t-shirt and shorts for her to wear.

When I return to the bathroom, Lily's perched on the vanity attempting to remove her makeup with whatever she found, her mascara is smudged around her eyes making her resemble a panda and I laugh.

"Some help would be nice." She says handing me the cotton pad soaked in makeup remover.

I take it and she opens her legs, giving me space to move into so I can reach her. Her hands rest on my shoulders as I drag the cotton round across her face removing the last of her makeup.

"There, all done." I say placing the dirty cotton rounds down.

"Thank you Paigey." Lily coos, her hands moving from my shoulders to cup my face, "You're so pretty." She says, her eyes locked onto mine, "Have I ever told you that?"

"You've mentioned it." I smile at the drunk girl from the space inbetween her legs.

"And I mean it, you're like the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, Lily Kent." I tell her, my hands now rested on her thighs.

"Even when I'm throwing up?" She pouts.

"Even when you're throwing up." I assure her.

I leave Lily to change into my clothes and I undress myself before getting into bed.

"I think you're just a little bit taller than me." She says emerging from the bathroom my clothes, that fit me perfectly, hanging oversized on her small frame.

"You look cute, now come get in bed." I tell her opening my arms for her to fit into like she has done so many times before.

"At least take me on a date first, Bueckers." She jokes climbing into bed next to me, her head instinctively finding my chest and arm falling over my stomach.

"Oh, I plan on." I say before pressing a kiss to Lily's head, "I'm all in."

"All in." She replies sleepily.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Paige

Basketball season was fast approaching. The one month countdown to our first game was on so it was safe to say my schedule was busy. Between training, workouts, classes and work, I barely had time to do anything else. But I wasn't complaining.

I had worked hard over the summer getting as fit and healthy as possible to ensure I'd have an injury free junior year and I felt positive about it as it neared.

Now that everyone knew about me and Lily, it was easy for us to spend time with each other. If she wasn't at my apartment, I was at hers. She'd often sit in on the end of sessions so we could grab lunch together afterwards. I'd meet her after classes and we'd walk home or to the library. Sleepovers we a regular occurrence too, in fact it felt more normal when Lily was snuggled into me than when she wasn't.

Everyone in real life had grown accustomed to me and Lily but we kept things pretty lowkey on social media, never addressing the situation. We'd post a random Instagram story together here and there and we'd both appeared in each others photo dumps over the past few weeks. Lily and I decided this was best for now, she had made it clear that she didn't want to be at the mercy of my one million plus followers and I understood that perfectly. The internet had a funny way of jumping to conclusions and creating rumours and drama out of nothing and I would do everything I could to protect Lily from that.

Of course people had figured something was going on between us pretty quickly, between the minimal photos posted, Instagram comments and infamous Tiktok lives, it was hard to conceal what was really going on. But ultimately, we had nothing to hide, just our peace to protect. Our relationship was private, not a secret and that suited us.

It was Wednesday evening, I had just finished training and checked my phone before leaving the facilities to head home, Lily had text me letting me know that she was wrapping up her day working with the soccer team. They had played a match today and Lily was needed for post match interviews and behind the scenes content during the game.

Selfishly, I was jealous that Lily worked with other teams and not just mine but I knew how much she loved soccer and there was nothing better than seeing Lily happy.

I texted Lily back telling her I'd pick her up from the soccer field and I got in my car and drove the few minutes it took to get there.

"Hi pretty girl." I beamed as Lily climbed into my passenger seat. Any tiredness or irritability that had built up throughout the day completely diminished at the site of the brown haired girl.

"Hi P." She smiled back leaning her body over the centre console and kissing me.

I will never get bored of that.

"How was your day?" I asked as I began the short drive back to the apartments.

"It was good! I've missed watching soccer so it was fun to be with the team today - they're all so nice too. I like them a lot!" Lily said clearly happy at how her day had gone.

"Not as much as you like me, I hope." I joke with her and quickly glance in her direction to find her brown eyes already focused on me.

"Paige Bueckers, there isn't anyone in the entire state of Connecticut that I like as much as you." She says extending her arm to rest her hand on my thigh.

I smile at the simple sign of affection and switch to driving with one hand so I can link my other with Lilys.

"So who have I got to worry about in other states?"

"Oh I don't know, Billie Eilish is walking around somewhere in LA just waiting for me to step foot in California." She jokes.

"Is she your celebrity crush?" I ask realising we've never had this conversation.

"She was." She says simply.

"What happened?"

"I met you." She replies shooting me a small smile, eyes hooded as she looks up from her slouched position.

"Lily Kent, are you flirting with me?" I ask smirking, bringing the car to a halt outside my apartment block.

"It doesn't work when you point it out Paige." She huffs, rolling her eyes at me.

"Oh my bad, my bad!" I say in exaggerated apology, "Go again." I encourage.

She looks as if she about to argue but she doesn't.

"I met you." She repeats, the same hooded eyes looking up at me and this time instead of saying anything, I grab her face with both hands and press my lips to hers.

Lily giggles into the kiss before deepening it, her hand finding the back of my neck.

My phone, still connected to my cars bluetooth, abruptly brought us back to reality as my ringtone blasted through the speakers. Glancing at my car's display screen, I could see it was KK calling.

"Hey whats up?"

"Where are you?"

"Outside the apartment, in my car."

"Perfect! Stay there, I'm coming and we're going to Target to get Tru Fru!"

Before I could even argue with KK, I heard the door close letting me know she had already left the apartment.

"Looks like we're going to Target." I say to Lily and she seemed pretty content with our impromptu trip.

We had nothing planned for the evening, like most nights, we were just going to watch TV and have dinner together and maybe (almost definitely), Lily would end up staying over.

KK bundled into the back seat of my car and proceeded to rant the whole way to Target about how much she craved Trü Frü and how she needed every flavour and how once we got back into the car with our haul she is going to livestream a tatsetest.

Lily

KK, Paige and I had enough Trü Frü in our hands to feed the entirety of UConn.

"This has got to be enough!" Paige exclaimed as she struggled to balance the multiple tubs and packets making me laugh and then in turn I also stuggled to balance my load.

We should have got a cart.

"This is for sure enough, KK." I agreed with Paige.

"Wait, one more Piña Colada packet! Ice will like those." She says opening the large freezer with one hand and grabbing yet another pack of the frozen, chocolate covered fruit.

We carefully made out way to the checkouts each of us doing our best not to drop anything. KK paid, of course, and we left the store with three bags full of the frozen treats.

Getting back into the car, we took our respective seats, Paige in the drivers seat, me in the passenger and KK in the back.

"Y'all cool if we do some taste tests on live?" KK asked peeking her face between me and Paige, elbows rested on the console.

Paige looked to me with raised brows as if to say 'your call' and I nodded, I didn't mind.

I had been in a few of the girls' livestreams since becoming friends with them but I'd always remained pretty silent, almost like a background character. There had of course been questions about me and Paige but as a group, we ignored them and let everyone wonder.

"Here." KK hands me her phone, the live button waiting to be pressed and I prop it up on Paiges dashboard.

Paige leans over and starts the livestream and it doesn't take long for the viewer count to reach the hundreds and comments to come flying in.

The camera pointed slightly more in Paiges direction with her being almost centre of the frame and KK over her left shoulder, I sat half out of the shot, leaning in.

KK addressed her live and introduced me, "This is Lily y'all. You've seen her before." She says and I send a small wave to the camera, "Hi." And I watch as comment after comment comes in.

"Be nice." Paige interjects pointing her finger at the screen.

'hi lily!'

'how do you know the team?'

'so pretty'

'PAIGE'

'ok boom'

'her and paige for sure dating'

KK starts of her taste test and hands us each a piece of the chocolate covered fruit. We start with strawberry - my personal favourite - before making our way through five different flavours. We rank them from best to worst, bickering every now and then when we didn't agree with each other.

"Theres no way you're putting raspberry above blueberry." Paige shook her head in disbelief and I looked at KK in shock, "Yes we are."

"We already allowed you to put peach at number three when it should have been four." KK continues defending our opinion.

"I can't believe you're not backing me here, you love blueberries!" Paige says looking at me.

I hold my hands up in defence, I do love blueberries, "But raspberries are better."

"Unbelievable." She huffs knowing shes outnumbered.

I laugh and reach out a sympathetic hand and place it on Paiges shoulder, "It's OK to be wrong babe." I say and as the words leave my mouth, realisation hits and all three of our heads snap towards the propped up phone.

As if we're frozen, we all stare at the live stream and the influx of comments.

'OMG'

'yall heard that too?'

'BABE?'

'i knew it!'

'damn lily is lucky'

KK is the first to speak, "Alright..." She says bringing herself forward to be inline with me and Paige, "not too much on my girls now." She reaches out and grabs her phone bringing it close to her face so its just her in the frame, "Love y'all! Bye live!" And she ends the stream.

"I'm so sorry!" I blurt slapping a hand over my mouth. I look at Paige and her expression is hard to read until she breaks a smile and bursts out laughing, "It's fine, Lily." She says pulling me into a hug over the console.

"It's just force of habit." I say referring to the pet name.

"It's fine," She says again, this time looking into my eyes, "everyone's going to find out eventually, you're just...speeding up the process." She jokes, squeezing my hand in reassurance.

"Y'all sorry to break it you but you are not slick. You didn't fool anyone with your sneaking around so I doubt you're fooling anyone else, especially with those IG comments." KK remarks from the backseat and Paige and I laugh.

The devil works hard but fan pages work harder. By the time we're back at the girls' apartment, not only had all of my roommates sent me screen recordings of my slip up but Azzi and Nika had practically knocked us over as we walked through the door.

"Y'all couldn't be lowkey if you tried." Nika laughed as we all sat on the couches, KK proudly packing her Trü Frü into the freezer.

"We're starting to realise that." I say looking towards Paige who sat slouched behind me.

"I don't think there'll be much backlash," Azzi says, "people want you together at this point!" She continues to scroll through her phone, "Look." She turns her screen towards me and Paige and an edit of us to Taylor Swift - False God played.

Clips had been taken from livestreams, including tonight's, videos from our stories and even a few moments from the open training when Marcus and I interviewed Paige and they had been edited together with a screenshot of mine or Paiges comments on each other posts appearing every few seconds.

I blushed watching the short video and turned to Paige with red cheeks. Her hand had been toying with the hem of my shirt and her fingers gently grazing across the bottom of my back, she extended her arm out and wrapped it around my waist pulling me to her. My back was flush with her chest and I was completely encased in her arms now, "Looks like they love you already." She says into my ear before pressing a kiss to my temple.

"I hope so." I say back genuinely wanting to be liked by Paige's fans.

"They'll see how happy you make me and they'll have no choice to love you." She says pushing us up off the couch so we're standing.

We both had had long days and it was getting late and I could tell Paige was tired so it came as no surprise to me when she asked if I wanted to order Chipotle and watch Greys Anatomy.

"What are you doing on Saturday?" Paige asks as we brush our teeth, getting ready for bed.

With a mouthful of toothpaste, I shrug my shoulders.

"Well don't make any plans." I look at her confused, "I'm taking you on a date." She says proudly.

I spit the toothpaste out of my mouth and grin up at the blonde haired girl, "Really?"

"Yes, really and its a surprise so no questions." She tells me and I pout.

"Don't give me that face pretty girl." She says as she takes my hand and leads me back to her bedroom.

"But how will I know what to wear." I protest.

"You always look good, it doesn't matter." She says far to casually for my liking.

"How about a clue?" I prod giving Paige my best pout and fluttering eyelashes combo.

"How about you come lay down and watch Greys with me? This is one of my favourite episodes." She says from her place on her bed where she was laying, one hand behind her head and the other outstretched to me.

I give in and shuffle myself over to Paige and lay next to her. Her arm instinctively wraps around me and pulls me closer, so close I can smell the minty toothpaste she just used.

As we watch the episode I can see why it's one of Paiges favourites.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb #wlw #lgbtq #fanfic #paige bueckers fanfiction #lovegalor333 #fresh start

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liongoatsnake · 3 months ago

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ESSAY: My Hearthome in ABZÛ

by Ocean Watcher from House of Chimeras (He/they) I was inspired to write this essay after attending the panel, "No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes" at Othercon 2024 Note: This won't be the official home of this essay. I'm planning on adding it to our system's website, The Chimeras Library sometime in the future either as a standalone essay or part of something bigger.

My Hearthome in ABZU

by Ocean Watcher from House of Chimeras Date Written: 15 August 2024 Approx. Word Count: ~2,180

Approx. Reading Time: ~17 minutes

“They say home is where the heart is, and for most people it consists of four walls and a welcome mat. For me, it’s the ocean.” ~ Bethany Hamilton, Soul Surfer. Directed by Sean McNamara. California: Sony Pictures Releasing, 2011.

Defining Hearthome

A hearthome is a location, whether real or otherwise, that an individual has a strong emotional connection toward to the point it feels like a “home,” typically despite never having lived or spent a significant amount of time there. The specifics on what qualifies as a hearthome within this general definition is largely up for personal interpretation.

The location in question can be as all-encompassing as a whole planet all the way down to something much, much smaller. The location could be a real place (whether that be one that still currently exists or a location that once existed but doesn’t anymore), a setting depicted in fictional media, or something else entirely. It can also be a specific easily named location or merely a general description of a place. Finally, the exact kind of emotional connection and feeling like “home” a location can elicit can range from a feeling of familiarity, of comfort and relaxation, safety, nostalgia, homesickness, and/or more. In short, within the definition of hearthome there are many possibilities on how the experience can exist.

The term used to describe someone who has a hearthome or the state of having a hearthome is sometimes called hearthic, though not everyone uses it. (So, for example someone might say “I have a hearthome in [insert place here]” rather than saying “I am [insert place here]hearthic.” Whether hearthic is used or not alongside the term hearthome is largely personal preference.

Describing ABZÛ

ABZÛ (also written as Abzû) is a video game initially released in 2016. The game fits within several genres including adventure, simulation, and art video game. It has no dialogue and so the story is told solely through visuals. The main draw of the game is the graphics put into the diverse ocean environments and the wide range of marine life that inhabits each area. Most of ABZÛ is home to animal species that can be found in today’s oceans; however, there are over a dozen or so species that appear in the game that went extinct a long time ago.

The gameplay itself consists of the player controlling an android diver exploring a large variety of ocean environments in a vast ocean and getting to see a myriad of marine life at every turn.

Knowing the backstory of what occurs isn’t needed, but for some context: Deep at the bottom of this ocean was a primordial source of infinite energy. Where the energy permeated from the ground life spontaneously came into being. An ancient civilization discovered they could collect and use it to create (marine) life whenever and wherever they wished. However, at some point, they created machines to automate the process. The creation of these machines caused a disruption of the natural flow of life as they took up so much energy they drained the vitality of the ocean away. The civilization disappeared, leaving their machines to continue to operate. The objective of the player-controlled robot diver, another creation of the ancient civilization, is to return the energy back to the ocean and put an end to the machines causing the destruction.

ABZÛ is overall a short game, with most players seeming to complete it within an hour and thirty minutes to two hours, on average.

Home is Where the Heart Is Indeed

So, my hearthome is ABZÛ.

To start, I want to put some context between the game ABZÛ and my hearthome ABZÛ. The environments in the game are striking and hold an emotional importance to an extent that I have labeled it as a hearthome; however, the ABZÛ that I think of in my mind’s eye and thoughts is not just an exact mirror of the game. That is because the ABZÛ I have conceptualized in my own mind is laid out like a normal(ish) ocean thanks to some noemata I have.

The noemata I have reads that all the “game-y” elements necessary for it to function as, well, a game, aren’t present in the idea of ABZÛ that makes up my hearthome. So, all the things necessary to keep a player in a defined area and on a specific path are absent. Further, all the different locations shown in the game would exist in a much more natural way. Plus, even more biodiversity would exist than shown in the game itself (as it is only populated with a little more than a few hundred different species whereas a more realistic ocean would have tens of thousands). Basically, the concept of ABZÛ in my mind looks and functions a lot more like a natural ocean (if a much, much more vibrant and filled with even more aquatic life, one).

I also have noemata that reads that while the old structures of the civilization still exist in a way like how they appear in the game, the inverted pyramid machines have long broken down and been reclaimed by the ocean and there are no unnatural dead zones. (So, I guess, one could say my hearthome is based off how things look at the end of the game.)

So, there is all that.

That is all well and good, but now I want to cover why exactly I distinguish ABZÛ as a hearthome; why I feel it warrants a special label of significance to me at all.

Not to state the obvious, but games are meant to be emotionally and/or mentally moving. They are meant to make a player feel something. ABZÛ is no different. It is meant to be a “pretty ocean” game, if you will. The environments in ABZÛ certainly reflect a more idealized and concentrated concept of ocean life (the magnitude of marine life at any particular point in the game itself being far more than an ecosystem could sustain). So, of course, the game is meant to be visually stunning and calming (save for a section in the game roughly 3/5ths in) in relation to the ocean, but my feelings for the game go deeper than what would be normally expected.

It is true that much of the allure I have toward ABZÛ could be dismissed as merely as a natural consequence of my alterhumanity being so immersed in the ocean if not for the fact there are aspects of ABZÛ that draw out emotions and noemata that can’t be easily waved off in that manner. There are plenty of ocean-themed games and whatnot, yet it’s this specific one I have this connection toward. I have no idea why exactly I have a hearthome in this game specifically. I couldn’t tell you why. For whatever reason, its ABZÛ that resonates with me so strongly.

The biggest thing that stands out for me is the fact the area in the game that holds the most profound feelings of familiarity and belonging is the underwater city. At one point in the game, some underwater caves open into a vast underground space where a half-submerged city exists. (My view of things through some more noemata looks a lot more like an ancient city proper because, again, ABZÛ is a game so what exists is a lot more simplified and limited.) It is a city abandoned and in ruins and yet every surface is still covered in tile and brick of beautiful blue hues. Plants like trees, flowers, and vines populate the space above the water, lily pads and other floating plants pepper the water’s surface, and below sea plants like kelp, sea grass, and so much more cover much of the floor. Sunlight shines down from high above; my noemata filling in with the idea the city resides within a long extinct volcano rising above the ocean’s surface. Animals are everywhere both above and below the water. It’s this place I gravitate towards the most.

But what exactly do I feel?

Something about it resonates with me. It is a place that feels like home to a part of me. Something about it feels deeply right and missed despite never having lived there nor do I feel like it is a place I am “from,” in any specific way. The feelings my hearthome draw out of me can mostly be best described as comfort, relief, safety, and rightness. There is something familiar about it, even upon my first playthrough. There is maybe even a tinge of nostalgia even though I strongly feel like there isn’t anything past-life-like at play as to why I have this hearthome. It just feels so familiar and comforting to me.

Starting out, my feelings also included what I can best describe as a yearning or longing to want to be there, even if only to visit. There was a desire to know a place like it with my own eyes as much as I knew it already in my heart somehow. So, there was a bit of almost homesickness there too. All these feelings are described in the past tense because of something that happened a bit after first playing the game.

Sometime after first playing ABZÛ, a sunken city with strong similarities to the one in the game was discovered in the ocean in our system’s innerworld. It is not a perfect exact copy, but it has all the same elements and looks how my hearthome appears through the lens of the noemata I have. I know I didn’t consciously will the location in our innerworld to come into existence, no one here can make such blatant conscious changes to our innerworld; however, I’m far less certain if my discovery of the game and the emotions it elicited didn’t cause the sunken city to appear in our innerworld as an involuntary reaction. (Not long after its appearance, several other areas in the game also found their way into the ocean of our system’s innerworld.) Since its appearance and discovery, I spend much of my time in these impacted areas, especially the sunken abandoned city. Since its appearance, the location has become a much beloved place to be, not just for me but also for many other aquatics in the system. The area is aesthetically pleasing and interesting to move around in. There is a lot of wildlife so hunting instincts can be indulged and so on. When not focused on fronting it is a nice place to exist in.

I’ve been aware of my emotional connection to the setting depicted in ABZÛ since July 2018 after playing it for the first time. Since buying it on Steam, I’ve logged many hours on it and have played through its entirety several times. However, I had not labeled my feelings towards this game as a hearthome until recently. Back then, I never questioned or analyzed my feelings surrounding the environments in the game. I knew it soothed something in me to play the game, going out to the sunken city in the innerworld for a while, or even just imagine myself swimming in one of my favorite areas, but I didn’t think about why exactly that was the case.

I didn’t make the connection between my experiences with ABZÛ to the term, hearthome until August of 2024. The moment of realization came while listening to the panel, “No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes” at Othercon 2024. Upon Rani, the panel’s host, describing the meaning of the term, I realized my feelings towards ABZÛ fit perfectly within the word. It wasn’t even a particularly jarring realization, and I am not sure how I had never made the connection before. Since that realization, I’ve come to label my feelings around the game, ABZÛ as my hearthome.

On the topic of alterhuman terms, I don’t use the term hearthic to refer to my state of having a hearthome at this time, solely because the word just doesn’t feel right when I try to use it in context. That could change, but for now, that is that.

I do consider my hearthome to be a part of my alterhumanity. My hearthome certainly fits neatly into my wider alterhumanity; ocean life and all that. That being said, I don’t think my hearthome has as strong of an impact on my daily experiences as other aspects do. My feelings around my hearthome are most often closer to something in the background more than anything. It is still there, and it is still important, it is just not as blatant and impactful in my daily life compared to something like my phantom body from my theriotypes. The fact parts of the game now exist in the innerworld and are prime locations for me to go after fronting to alleviate species dysphoria is perhaps the most blatant way my hearthome impacts my greater alterhumanity.

Bibliography

505 Games, ABZÛ. 505 Games, 2015, Microsoft Windows.

“Glossary,” Alt+H, https://alt-h.net/educate/glossary.php . Archived on 19 Apr 2020: https://web.archive.org/web/20200419100422/https://alt-h.net/educate/glossary.php

Lepidoptera Choir. “Hearthic” astrophellian on Tumblr. 9 April 2022. https://astrophellian.tumblr.com/post/681107250894503936/hearthic . Archived on 30 September 2022: https://web.archive.org/web/20220930143533/https://astrophellian.tumblr.com/post/681107250894503936/hearthic

Rani. “No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes,” Othercon 2024, 11 August 2024, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYVF_R6v50Q

#hearthome #hearthic #alterhuman #alterhumanity #alterhuman essay

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hongcherry · 1 year ago

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pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc [SERIES TEASER]

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [teaser] bantering, a mention of murder in a joking way

🍒 Word Count: [teaser] 417 | [full] well over 30k, chaptered

🍒 Release Date: August 2023

🍒 Author's Note: Eeep~ very nervous and excited to fully release this series! If you're interested in this story, please consider joining my taglist! ♥️ More info/tws/etc will be with the full fic.

Disclaimer: Text was slightly edited from the full story.

join the taglist!

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

When Seungcheol answers another question with a vague response, you can’t stop the groan from escaping your mouth.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you exasperate, rolling your eyes.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice going back to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From how he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they’re cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket before standing up.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

join the taglist!

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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actualbird · 6 months ago

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Statistical Report of Marius/Luke Ao3 Literature (2024)

(aka, a pet project i've been working on behind the scenes for a while. if you'd rather read it as a PDF, you can check it out here, but i've copy pasted its entirety into this text post, beginning in 3...2...1...)

Introduction

Ahhh, Marius von Hagen and Luke Pearce…such wonderful characters from hit mobile otome game “未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis.” As love interests to Miss MC Rosa Qiangwei, they each are incredibly compelling characters with incredibly nuanced backstories, personalities, and dynamics with MC.

Also, there’s a small but dedicated community of shippers that want them to kiss and make out and be in love with each other. Hell yeah!

Welcome to the Statistical Report of Marius/Luke Ao3 Literature (2024), a report that aims to capture this community’s literary contribution to the MariLuke ship by crunching the data available to the public on Ao3!

Before going into the data, there are some notes and caveats to this census that the author would like to make clear.

This report’s data was taken from the “未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game)” fandom tag on Archive of Our Own. This means that all works outside of this tag or outside of this website (ex. Twitter thread fics or Tumblr drabbles not crossposted to Ao3, fanfiction only on other sites like FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Weibo, etc.) have not been included.

This report’s data is as of May 31, 2024 as a cutoff date. This was so that I wouldn’t have to endlessly update the data and go insane.

Works that did exist but have since been deleted as of May 31, 2024 are not included, as the author does not have an encyclopedic memory of fanfics that no longer exist on the site :(

Now with all that said, let’s dive in.

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Number Of Fics Posted and Surge Periods

Now, let’s begin with the number of fics posted. As of May 31, 2024, there are 166 fics in the “Lu Jinghe | Marius von Hagen/Xia Yan | Luke Pearce” tag on Ao3. This number (and subsequently, this report) counts fics as they are listed in AO3 as unique fics, meaning that if it takes up its own little box in the AO3 feed, that’s one fic in itself. This does unfortunately mean that fics that act as a collection (i.e. each chapter is a different story) are only counted as one fic. This number also excludes podfics, because that’s basically the same fic in a different format.

That being said, this number is still nothing to scoff at. And things get even more delightful when we track down the frequency of fics posted month by month in a timeline.

The earliest MariLuke fic posted on Ao3 was “You are King” by itshaku on August 8, 2021, a mere 10 days after ToT’s official global release. The folks who posted the very first few fics in August 2021 laid down the foundation and bedrock of the Ao3 tag, and as ToT’s existence to the global audience continued, more and more fic started to populate our hallowed halls.

However, while that’s the earliest MariLuke fic as is recorded by Ao3 now, I happen to know that there was a fic that was posted even earlier. A fic called “Don’t Let Me Go” by sakurei. Both the fic and the author’s account has since been delated, but I knew this fic existed because I originally started this report in 2022. When I had first put together the preliminary data, I noted “Don’t Let Me Go” as the first ever fic, and then was disheartened to learn that it was deleted. Like, no…the sacred texts… All hope seemed lost until my dear friend Z Lukevonhagen suggested I search the link on the Wayback Machine, and lo and behold, a copy of the True First Ever MariLuke Fanfic On Ao3 had been unearthed. Thanks, Z!

In the month of October 2021, the Marius/Luke tag experienced its first fic surge. For the purposes of this report, any month with 8 or more fics posted during their duration is counted as a surge. Why is 8 or more the qualifier? That number was picked solely off of vibes.

A total of 9 new fics were posted in October 2021, though the I can’t find any discernible reason for this fic. After some digging, I found no relevant fan events that occurred in October 2021 that linked to any of the MariLuke fics. In terms of in-game happenings, the only thing of note here is that this is when the Symphony Of The Night event was running, but it’s not like Marius and Luke made out on screen during that event’s storyline (oh, how I wished though…)

Our next surge happened in August 2022, with a whole 12 fics posted, when the tag suddenly and beautifully got a sizeable influx of CN fics. CN fics take up 6 of the 12 fics posted during this time period, which is half of the month’s total fic yield. Thank you for your service, CN MariLukers !

Our next surge period lasted for a whopping 3 consecutive months, ushering a Golden Age for MariLuke fics, so to speak. Month by month, what happened was:

In October 2022, another surge occurred with a total of 11 fics. During this month, Twitter account Thirst of Themis had run a ToT Kinktober fan event, and a number of new Marius/Luke fics were created and posted in accordance with the Kinktober prompts.

In November 2022, a total of 9 fics were posted, and this was mostly because of two specific singular authors’ hard work, as they published several fics all on their own in rapid succession and contributed to the surge. Ao3 author Litchire posted a whopping 4 fics during this period, along with Ao3 author ynfzymokaihewo who posted 3 fics.

In December 2022, a total of 9 fics were posted, though this is the month where I couldn’t find any discernible reason once again. Maybe the holiday season just made us all fic-happy? Who knows.

After that, it’s smooth sailing for a while with average MariLuke fic yields for a couple of months.

Then, the Recession came. Followed by a Revival. Followed by another Recession.

In April, 2023, only one (1) MariLuke fic was posted. Authors recovered in the following month of May 2023, but right after in June 2023, we all died once again with a staggering zero (0) new MariLuke fics posted. I assume we all went into hibernation or something. But that’s fine, because the next month in July 2023, the crops started flowering once more and the MariLuke harvest began anew.

Our next surge happened a couple months later, in November 2023, with 8 new fics posted. The culprit here is Thirst of Themis once again, for they had run a November prompts event, and 7 out of 8 MariLuke fics posted this month were in fulfillment of the event.

Now, we arrive at our latest surge and also our biggest one. In may 2024, the MariLuke Ao3 tag saw a whopping 28 new fics posted. This is undoubtedly the result of the fan event MariLuke Week (May 2024) for 27 out of the 28 fics were posted in fulfillment of the event’s prompts. The following authors participated in MariLuke Week, with their fic counts for this event placed next to their name:

xXILoveMyFridgeXx (10 fics contributed)

wtfhoney (7 fics contributed)

quarterweeb / theobscenfraction (4 fics contributed)

reptilianraven (3 fics contributed)

lukevonhagen (2 fics contributed)

Litchire (1 fic contributed)

Congratulations and thank you to the writers who participated in the event! You all contributed to the biggest surge in MariLuke stocks THUS FAR, and you should all give yourselves a pat on the back.

That concludes the timeline of MariLuke works up til May 31, 2024! Hit the showers, everybody!

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Full List of AO3 Users Who Have Written Marius/Luke Fanfiction

The Marius/Luke writer population is a small but mighty one, with a total of 45 unique authors who have posted a fic Marius/Luke fic on Ao3 as of May 31, 2024. Before going into the full list of authors, here are some important caveats to the list:

ON ANONYMOUS AUTHORS: As this report deals with how Ao3 lists data, all authors who have opted to post anonymously will be counted as one entity. I personally know that some anonymous authors are different users, but verifying this without making any fuckups would make my tiny pea brain cry. For this reason, anonymous authors are counted as one unique author, so if you’re one of these anonymous authors, congrats on being a part of a Marius/Luke hivemind!

ON AUTHORS WITH PSEUDS: An Ao3 user who has different posted fics within the Marius/Luke tag under different pseuds will be counted as one unique author. Despite saying in the last paragraph that the my personal knowledge will not be enacted to tweak how Ao3 lists data, I’m making one exception here because it literally only pertains to three Ao3 users in the ship tag, so this won’t make my tiny brain cry at all.

So without further ado and in alphabetical order, here our are heroes:

Authors listed under the Anonymous Label

ajing_1124

artistic_gemini

asukryo

autumnsparrxw

BlazingSunflowers

CandorArchives

chechevitsa

darkbreak

doridoripawaa

dxpiarchaive / keeyamii

Eden_of_Amour / suffering_meguca

EnnTea

floweringlight

friedchickenlord

Goryo_Wataru

i_o_u_e_a

itshaku

kombat_exe

ladyhaspran

layla_wp

Litchire

lukevonhagen

m3i_day

marcipancake

monocuri

osamurice

pvsiytemhaver

quarterweeb / theobscenefraction

reptilianraven

RikuMorimachisGirl

Rxzaliya

samandspam

snocchiato

Solaste

sondepoch

strayris

Szim

Tinowenn

ThirdLibraryOfYumenosaki

turnscote

wtfhoney

xeriacat

xXILoveMyFridgeXx

ynfzymokaihewo

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A Brief Glimpse Into Ratings and Tags

Before I looked at the ratings, I had a hypothesis that Explicit fics would take the lead because in majority of the MariLuke fics I’ve read myself, Marius and Luke are written to have incredibly active libidos. Lo and behold, when I did chart down the fics by rating, is is revealed that…

…statistically, we are horny.

Not by a whole lot though! Fics that are rated Teen and Up comes in 2nd place by just a very small margin, so that’s a lot of fics that are accessible to those who don’t want to read Marius and Luke getting nasty.

In terms of Additional Tags, I checked out the Top 5 most frequented Additional Tags and charted them below.

The Top 5 most used Additional Tags are actually Fluff, Light Angst, Comedy, Humor, and Anal Sex. However, I reasoned that Comedy and Humor are the exact same thing, so I counted them as synonyms and added in the 6th most used Additional Tag: Established Relationship.

Anyhoo, I think it’s really sweet to see that Fluff reigns supreme! And by a large margin, too. We love to write our boys having a wholesome lovely time. Of course, we also like just a smidge of narrative spice, which is where Light Angst comes in in 2nd place. That being said, I think it’s insanely funny that Anal Sex is in this chart. It is very out of place among the rest, LMAO.

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A Brief Segue Into The Popularity of Marius/Luke In Relation to Other ToT BL Pairings

As of May 31, 2024, Marius/Luke is the 1st most popular M/M ship in the Ao3 tag, overall clocking in with a total of 166 works.

In addition to that, I think it’s interesting to note that the 2nd most popular BL ship is Marius/Artem, with 130 fics, while the 3rd most popular BL ship is Marius/Vyn, with 66 fics. Tied for 4th place is Artem/Male or Gender Neutral Reader, and Vyn/Artem, both at 46 fics respectively.

The reason why I think the top 5 BL ships are interesting to look at is due to Marius’ participation in 3 out of the 5 most popular M/M ships in the ToT tag. Given this, we can veritably congratulate him for statistically beating the heterosexual allegations. Marius really gave off vibes that made many different shippers go “oh there’s no way in hell he’s completely straight.”

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Accolades

Longest Fic

As of May 31, 2024, the Longest Fic in the tag is [drumroll]...Losing Sight by pvsiytemhaver! This fic is actually primarily as ArtemRosa fic with MariLuke as an additional ship, and it currently clocks in at 90,109 words, taking the 1st spot as the longest MariLuke fic and the 18th longest fic overall in the general “未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game)” fandom tag. Let’s take a look at the runner ups!

Here’s the list of the longest fics in the MariLuke tag:

Losing Sight by pvsiytemhaver (90,109 words)

the lips i used to call home (it was maroon) by xXILoveMyFridgeXx (58,185 words)

Five Points of a Star by xXILoveMyFridgeXx (25,494 words)

Risk of Pain by Solaste (25,157 words)

end of a decade (start of an age) by xXILoveMyFridgeXx (20,671 words)

Special shoutout to user xXILoveMyFridgeXx who consistently pumps out fics with gargantuan word counts.

Fic With Most Kudos

Next on the list is the Fic With The Most Kudos, and this title goes to [drumroll]... “standard operating procedure (x4 speedrun) by reptilianraven” which…oh, that’s me.

This fic is not solely a MariLuke work, but an NXX Polycule work that has MariLuke within it. Weighing in with 827 kudos, it takes the spot as the 1st most kudos’d MariLuke work, while also weighing in as the 9th most kudos’d fic overall in the general “未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game)” fandom tag. Let’s take a look at the runner ups!

Here’s the list of the Top 5 Fics With Most Kudos:

standard operating procedure (x4 speedrun) by reptilianraven (827 kudos)

every breath you take, every move you make, peanut will be watching you by reptilianraven (735 kudos)

the existence of a top student implies the existence of a bottom student by reptilianraven (575 kudos)

making out with your bro for fun and for profit by reptilianraven (567 kudos)

(Thank you for the kudos ;^;)

Author With Most MariLuke Works Written

And now, for our last accolade… the award for the author who currently has a large chunk of the MariLuke Ao3 tag coming from their own fics wrought by their own mind.

This title goes to [drumroll]... oh goddamn it, it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being insane about them. I don’t remember writing this much for them, I swear to god. Let’s look at the runner ups!

Here’s the list of authors with the most MariLuke works written:

reptilianraven (24 works)

quarterweeb / theobscenefraction (quarterweeb) (23 works)

Litchire (15 works) and ynfzymokaihewo (15 works) tied for 3rd place

xXILoveMyFridgeXx (13 works)

wtfhoney (11 works)

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Conclusion

I love this ship. I love this ship so goddamn much, but if there’s one thing I love more, it’s the community of shippers who write for this ship. This pet project was started as a little love letter from me to the MariLuke writing community. So, thank you, MariLuke writers!! Thank you for putting your heart and soul into the works you create, thus fashioning a beautifully wide array of fics to enjoy and read, and thank you for showing your love for this rarepair!

Alright, this report is too damn long. I’m gonna go reread MariLuke fics now. Bye! Hope you enjoyed!

#tears of themis #mariluke #marius von hagen #luke pearce #tot luke #tot marius #lu jinghe #xia yan

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seokgyuu · 4 months ago

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Strawberry Wine - Teaser

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this teaser, but the actual story!) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Word count: 1229 (the teaser)

Release date: Part 1: 4th of August, Part 2: tba

A/N: this is a teaser for my upcoming fic for @svthub's world tour collab! I want to thank the admin team for arranging this wonderful collab and also @okiedokrie for the beautiful header and divider! All the smut warnings will be in the actual fic!

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago.

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras.

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books.

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?”

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you.

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well.

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?”

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different.

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time.

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole.

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you.

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life?

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her.

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with.

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything.

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

#svthub #svthub.collab #woozi fanfiction #seventeen fanfiction #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon fanfiction #svt fanfic #svt imagine #woozi imagine #svt teaser #woozi x you #jihoon x you #jihoon imagine #jihoon au #woozi au

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 1 year ago

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The Red Pencil

A not-quite-microfic written for @thethreebroomsticksficfest A Very Harry Birthday mini event! Happy birthday Harry!

Harry steps into his Year 5 classroom, tucking his too-large, dingy white shirt into his equally oversized grey trousers. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and he pushes them back, looking up at the colorful calendar next to the blackboard.

“Move!” Harry is knocked to the floor by Piers Polkiss, Dudley’s rat-faced friend. Harry deflates; he expected a Dudley-free classroom, as Aunt Petunia demanded her Ickle Diddykins be placed with Mrs Croft, the sought-after Cedar class teacher. Harry is in the Holly class with Miss Turner, a new teacher, who doesn’t notice one of her pupils is rubbing his scraped elbow.

Harry stands, only to be pushed against the wall by another one of Dudley’s friends, Gordon, who laughs and finds a seat next to Piers.

“Is everything all right?” asks a wispy voice. Miss Turner fiddles with her big, beaded necklace and blinks down at Harry. He peers around her, where Piers and Gordon are eyeing him threateningly.

He won’t say a word.

“Yes, Miss Turner,” Harry replies dully. “I slipped when I was looking at the . . .”

“Calendar?”

Harry nods and turns to face the grid, noticing his name printed in one of the squares.

“Why is my name here?” he asks, pointing to the square. His Year 4 teacher always put his name on the blackboard if he misbehaved; Aunt Petunia would lock him in the cupboard all night.

Miss Turner frowns. “Your birthday isn’t on the 31st?”

Harry glances at the calendar once more. He finds Piers’s name in the square reserved for 28 July. An American film about dinosaurs was released that day; Dudley and Piers went to the cinema for it. They returned to taunt Harry, saying that an animated orphan was far better than a real one.

Swallowing the memory, he counts the squares. If Miss Turner’s calendar is correct, his ninth birthday was only three days later.

“I didn’t know I had a birthday.”

“Everyone has a birthday,” Miss Turner says, confused. “Did you forget?”

Other boys and girls are watching them, falling silent. Harry feels his cheeks grow hot. He knew he had to have a birthday, but Aunt Petunia told him she didn’t know when it was, which is why he couldn’t have a birthday party or presents.

“I forgot,” he lies, as Piers and Gordon snicker at each other. Miss Turner shrugs and nudges him toward an open seat near the front.

The school bell rings only a few moments later, sparing Harry from further embarrassment. He keeps his gaze on the date shown in the grid, memorizing it so he won’t forget. 31 July 1980 is my birthday, he thinks repeatedly, wondering what that day was like for his parents. He knows they died when he was already over a year old.

Had his birthday been celebrated once, when they were alive?

“Harry Potter!”

Harry blinks up at Miss Turner. She holds out a red pencil, topped with a star-shaped eraser, wrapped with a golden ribbon. It has a card attached to it, with “Happy Birthday!” printed in big, bold letters.

“Here you are,” Miss Turner says, handing him the pencil. “We’re celebrating everyone who had birthdays in July and August.” She moves onto the next student, Gemma Rollins, whose birthday was two weeks before the start of term. Harry holds the pencil gingerly, the only birthday gift he’s received (that he knows of). He chooses not to write with it. It’s special, just for him, something Dudley can’t take away.

But Piers can take it away, and by lunch, it’s no longer in Harry’s possession. By the end of the day, Gordon snaps it in half and tears the star-shaped eraser in two. The card is in shreds, carried off by the wind.

Harry knows better than to complain. Now that he knows his birthday, he can tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He won’t get much for his birthday, if Christmas is anything to go by, but something is better than nothing.

It’s much later that day, after Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have heard about Dudley’s marvelous first day of school, that Harry brings up his discovery. He’s done washing the dishes and finds Aunt Petunia in the garden, trimming the hydrangeas.

“Aunt Petunia?”

“Have you broken something?” she says, snipping a stem with a scowl.

“I found out when my birthday is.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, wishing they fit his face better. “The 31st of July. My teacher, Miss Turner, has a calendar with our birthdays on it.”

Aunt Petunia flinches. “It must be correct.”

“If I know my birthday now, can I get pre—”

“Only good, well-behaved boys get presents,” she snaps, twisting the head of a hydrangea clean off its stem. “Father Christmas doesn’t bring presents to naughty children. Why would naughty boys and girls get presents for their birthdays?”

Harry almost tells her he did get a birthday gift, a pencil, but Piers took it away. “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he says miserably.

“Go to your cupboard. You’re going to get filthy if you stay out here.”

He shuffles away, avoiding Dudley’s chocolatey smirk and Uncle Vernon’s glare, and throws himself on the thin mattress in the cupboard. He feels something jabbing his side and hopes it’s not a mouse. Turning over, Harry sees the golden ribbon. The red pencil is on his bed, whole and untouched, with its star-shaped eraser and attached card.

With a grin, Harry stores the gift in an empty shoebox at the foot of his bed. He falls asleep, dreaming of flying, a gentle, tinkling laugh, and warm, hazel eyes crinkled with joy.

...

*The Land Before Time (1988) really was released on 28 July 1989 in the UK.

#harry potter #harry james potter #happy birthday harry

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taylorrepdetective · 1 year ago

Note

We went from “still just getting to know each other” to full on fanfic courtesy people mag in exactly 14 days. Do you think this could mean it will be short lived? Seems to be moving fast.

I don’t know what is going to happen because I don’t know what her goal is beyond simple publicity for the movie and 1989 tv (and just in general being seen dating a man which is important for her image and for selling music) and we’ll have to wait to see how it goes. I still stand by it likely to be short lived but whether that means November or March, your guess is good as mine. I think I’m currently leaning more in the March direction as being most likely, but it could be tomorrow or it could be forever or whatever she said in Blank Space.

In case anyone’s keeping count, I also have pretty much settled on all of this being well planned out in advance, including his appearance at the July KC tour in the first place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been planned for a very long time, just like Matty was.

1) have them linked publicly (for Travis it was the concert and friendship bracelet digits story). Sit back and watch the reaction, and give it a bit of a push in the right direction. With joe this was all done retroactively, after their relationship was “accidentally” leaked we found out they hung out in Oct. With Matty this was done over the course of late 2022-early 2023.

2) soft launch it by announcing an appearance ahead of time to get all eyes on it, while planting stories that they’ve hung out a few times, to establish a timeline back into the summer (august 1ish). Have her publicly meet his mom and get her approval. Again, with joe this was done retroactively, where we found out she had pined over him all summer and their anniversary was sept 28, and we’ve even now got a hook up on Aril 29. For Matty, she met his mom in stage 1), then this stage was her announcing the break up on Matty’s bday, and then planting stories that they were dating, that he’d go to Nash and there’d be PDA, and then stories that she thought maybe he was the one who got away, and had quietly been in love with him for almost a decade.

3) launch, but keep it casual. There’s still time to back out if things go poorly. People have time to get used to it and talk about “are they or aren’t they” serious, and you can control the narrative via media outlets and inside sources to set people up the way you want them to lean, all without even having them seen together more than once or twice. Set up a casual photo of them that seems to taken without their knowledge in a private moment. (Balcony with joe, private club with Matty, after party in KC with Travis.) This is far as she got with Matty then she cut her losses. Or I guess you could argue they had spilled into step 4). It’s a spectrum. With joe, again this was done retroactively but also the summer of 2017, no one knew how serious they were until secret sessions/rep came out.

4) hard launch during movie opening weekend. WE ARE HERE. For Matty this was probably supposed to happen during speak now release. But who knows. For joe it was reputation’s release.

5) Optional: push things hard until enough people seem to be generally getting tired of it. I assume this is next with Travlor. No idea how long this will last. Days or weeks I think. With joe this wasn’t a big deal because of the privacy narrative. No one could get tired of something they never saw (though they could get bored of it which was ok at that stage but boredom is the opposite of what she wants now.) With Travis I think this stage will be more of an important thing. If you go back to Calvin, this stage was most of their relationship.

6) cool things down so then people talk about “are they or aren’t they still together?” This was a constant with joe. I think this was just at the end for Calvin and the answer was they weren’t still together.

7) relaunch so everyone is excited to see them again. Steps 6-7 happened a lot with Joe naturally because of the privacy narrative. Will travlor get to this stage? I think so but it will be much accelerated. Like nothing for a week and people will wonder. Then, bang, she’s there again. Something like that.

8) ongoing: periodically lightly escalate the seriousness of the relationship. We’re already in this stage and it will continue. There is current chatter about her house shopping in KC. The usual (she actually BOUGHT a house one time for a man. And remember her Scottish castle, and how she and joe were constantly buying a London house for 6 years including furniture shopping right before they broke up?) And there will be constant talk of settling down and getting engaged.

9) and on and on until it ends. We could zoom through these stage over the next 2 weeks, or in seemingly endless loop of stages 6-9 for two years. No way to know until it ends or they get married, have 10 kids and teach them how to dream.

10) optional: black swan event. All bets are off.

I think it’s likely she’ll go to a couple of more games, and be seen spending as much time with him as reasonably possible before her next tour date. They need to “get to know each other” and “enjoy this fun honeymoon stage while they’re both smitten” while she can. Keep in mind her SA tour section is only 3 weeks long, and he could even potentially go to Argentina on his off week, so that’s not really enough time for the “their busy schedules were too much” excuse. Possible but you know not as likely. Then she’s off for for a couple of months again. Imagine the fun they can have over Christmas. We’ll skip the island vacation around new years or star-studded New Year’s party this time because he’ll still be playing football, so imagine her at playoff games. She’s getting literal millions of dollars in almost free publicity from this, and no matter how many people want to say she’s getting negative attention or being over-exposed or whatever, I don’t see it that way at all. It’s going very very well. All for the price of a few hours of her time and some jet fuel. So, like I didn’t see any reason for her to end it with joe because he was serving his purpose, I see no reason for this to end. Until she has reached her unknown-to-us goal.

There is a lot I can’t see or know, so these are just my best guesses based on what we’ve seen so far and what I see on their schedule for the next few months, and of course, my belief that this relationship not real.

#I also want to note that most of this is what’s done for more ‘real’ relationships #two celebs start dating and decide to go full PR power couple while they’re at it.#most celebs are celebs because they are attention seekers and understand publicity and PR are part of the job #a lot of people accept this which makes Travlor seem plausible. even if they are using it for publicity #it could still be real

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myeuphoricmindset · 1 year ago

Text

Haunted by you | Eddie Munson

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Pairing | Eddie Munson x OC

Warnings/Tags | 18+ only, Strained parent relationships with significant focus on maternal issues, Themes of feeling unwanted and abandoned are central, Cheating -though not involving Eddie Munson or the main character, alcohol and drug use, Profanity, Sexual content, and Mental health themes.

Fic Notes | This fic is set after the events of Stranger Things season 4. Seven years have passed, and everyone has moved forward since the defeat of Vecna and the closure of The Upside Down. This story won't revolve around Vecna or The Upside Down. While there might be occasional appearances by other Stranger Things characters, the narrative centers on normal life, void of supernatural plots except for Eddie's ghostly presence.

I don't have a fixed posting schedule, but I'll aim for weekly updates. I might post more frequently, but I'm keeping the dates flexible for my mental well-being. Rest assured, I won't leave this fic unfinished.

Word count | 4k

Read on ao3

August 1993

Embedded within our very DNA is the innate longing for maternal love and acceptance. When that love is withheld over time, our minds adapt, convincing us that we can do without it. However, a persistent yearning for that inherent love remains, a constant reminder of the void that's meant to be filled.

Even in death, Daisy’s mother couldn't find it within herself to love her daughter. Grace’s final moments weren't filled with apologies or declarations of affection for Daisy; instead, there was only a will assigning property to her.

With a chuckle, Daisy twirls the keys around her finger, amused by Grace's belief that a house could mend the chasm in her heart. It’s a testament to how detached she was from what love between a mother and child should be.

For the past six months, Daisy has been stuck in limbo, her presence tethered to this seemingly senseless house following her mother’s passing. Today, at long last, she clasps the keys in her hand—a significant stride towards ending this dreadful chapter of her life. Whether driven by resentment or anger, Daisy raises her middle finger to the sky, smiling with satisfaction as she bids farewell to Grace.

In the parking lot, a few passersby cast concerned glances her way as Daisy releases a breath. It's not just any breath; it's a sigh that unburdens her from a lifetime of pain. The ache will persist, but it no longer shackles her to Grace; now, her mother can only haunt her dreams. And she will take that as a win.

A huge smile is plastered on her face as she walks to her car and calls her realtor. The line rings twice before she hears his eager voice on the other end.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan."

"Walter, it's all set. You can move forward with putting up the for-sale sign. I'll send over the necessary paperwork soon. ” Daisy says.

"Absolutely, ma'am. Sounds great.”

“Oh, I’ve also turned on the electricity under my name while we work on getting it sold.”

“Wonderful. I'll arrange an open house for next weekend."

This house holds no appeal for her; it seems Grace hoped to tether herself to Daisy through the property. The faster it’s sold then the faster she can move on with her life.

"Thank you, and please, call me Daisy."

"Certainly," he replies apologetically.

She gives him a kind smile, almost as if he could perceive it through the phone, and says goodbye.

Music blares as Daisy speeds out of the lawyer's parking lot. Her sunglasses shield her eyes from the summer sun, her brown hair wiping in the wind, and her engagement ring glimmers brilliantly as her hand tightens on the steering wheel.

Things are finally looking up.

She planned to stop by the bridal store and try on her dress for the last fitting, but she could do that tomorrow. She just wants to relax at home with Nick and watch Pretty Woman. Maybe even recreate the bath scene, singing Prince while drowning in bubbles. That’s a perfect night.

The apartment's lights are on even though her fiancé isn't due back until seven.

"Nick?" Daisy's voice echoes through the apartment as she opens the fridge, her mind set on preparing dinner. A craving for pasta, rigatoni specifically, with grilled chicken, mushrooms, and onions fills her thoughts, her stomach voicing its approval with a rumble. Unfortunately, they are completely out of chicken and pasta. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Luckily, their apartment lies within walking distance of one of Nick's favorite Chinese restaurants. The prospect of takeout lifts Daisy's spirits as she heads to their bedroom to ask Nick if he wants his usual Kung Pao chicken.

The sound of the shower greets her before she enters the room.

"Nic—" Her words halt as her gaze falls upon the disheveled bed.

What in the world? The comforter hangs askew and pillows litter the floor in disarray. It’s an absolute mess and she could have sworn she made the bed this morning like she always does.

Before she can call Nick's name once more, noises emanate from the bathroom. Daisy cautiously pushes the bathroom door open. The sight before her is surreal: Nick and his coworker Mia are in the shower together. His hand rests on her thigh, the same hand that's wiped away Daisy's tears. His lips pressed against her neck, the same lips that proposed to Daisy. Mia's moans fill the air, reminiscent of the sounds Daisy herself has made. Her mouth goes sour at the sight.

Daisy remains rooted in place as if observing the scene from outside her body.

This can’t be happening.

Time slows as Nick becomes aware of her presence, the shower door flinging open, Mia futilely reaching for a towel, and Daisy retreating.

Nick's voice calls after her as she assembles a small bag. She can't answer, gripped by a numbing shock. The room's movements feel surreal, and Daisy navigates it like a phantom, a silent specter swallowed by her own detachment.

Pushing the front door open, the summer air snaps her back to reality as she approaches her car. Nick's voice recedes as she leaves him standing, towel wrapped around his waist and their shared future at his feet, symbolized by a single apartment key.

“Daisy!”

Betrayal is no stranger to Daisy, but it doesn't blunt the pain of misplaced trust. A sense of foolishness washes over her, as Nick held the secrets of her past, her vulnerabilities, her fears. Tonight he reinforced her sense of being an unwanted burden.

It’s too much to bear. She has to get the hell out of here.

Hawkins lies eighty miles from Indianapolis. Unintentionally, Daisy found herself heading north on Interstate 65, steering aimlessly while her thoughts were lost on autopilot. At some point during the drive, Daisy stopped for gas and picked up McDonald’s despite lacking any appetite. She mechanically consumed it, then pulled over on the highway only to throw it all up. All of this occurred while she was in a haze, unable to recall the process. She moved through these actions like a mere shell of herself. Reaching a new city without a memory of the journey ignited a surge of panic within her.

Daisy wasn’t just in Hawkins, Indiana; she found herself parked outside her mother’s house, now her very own. Mixed emotions surged within her as her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her focus unwavering on the imposing iron gate adorned with the “Morgan” insignia.

She will never admit that she'd memorized the route to her mother's house. A house she never intended to visit. It was always decided after the accident that she would never contact Grace again, but it gave Daisy a sense of control knowing where her mother was and not doing a damn thing about it.

Until now.

She would have driven to Sloan's place, relying on her childhood best friend's kindness to give her a place to stay while she figured out what to do next. Sloan had always been there, a constant pillar of support. But, tonight was not the night to ask for support. Sloan happened to be attending a significant work event with her girlfriend, Robin at her side. Months ahead of time, she had planned a stay at a luxurious hotel for this very evening. Even on a subconscious level, Daisy understood that intruding upon their special night wasn’t an option, even when her own life was unraveling at the seams.

Left with no other options, Daisy finds herself in an unexpected predicament—having to accept help from her mother, the last thing she ever wanted. Daisy understands her mother's presumed satisfaction in the afterlife, and it's a painful realization. Even though the house was hers, the idea of depending on Grace’s help for her own well-being bothered her, making her upset. She was meant to sell the home and ever step foot on the property.

It felt like her mother had won, even though the game ended when Grace died. But Daisy reminded herself that the stay isn't indefinite; it's just a temporary solution until she figures out her next step.

Her hand trembles as she inputs 0527 on the keypad. Time seems to freeze for a moment, and Daisy holds her breath. The tension snaps as the gate loudly creaks open, breaking the silence.

The driveway stretches, winding its way around towering trees and clusters of flowering bushes. Daisy remembers the land from before the house was built—a trailer park with families that got wiped out by a natural disaster in ‘86. Grace saw the chance, bought the land, and replaced the trailers with a mansion. The families from the Forest Hills were paid to leave, a deal they took because their homes were falling apart. They didn't have many options and didn't want to end up homeless. Most of them did not have insurance to take care of their homes and Grace paid more than they could ever offer.

One person with too much money took over a place that used to be home to many families. Instead of helping them rebuild, Grace paid them to go away. Daisy wonders about those families and the kids who used to play here; their laughter once echoed between the trees and now it’s silent. Hopefully, they managed to reconstruct their lives using the resources she provided.

As the sun set, its light bathed the house, creating a gentle radiance along its edges. The home stands on a grand scale, boasting windows that envelop both the lower and upper levels. Despite only being built seven years ago, Grace held a deep appreciation for history and it shows in the architecture. The Victorian-style home was crafted in a manner that exudes the aura of centuries past.

The focal point, the entryway, is crowned with two grand wooden front doors, standing tall and imposing, their well-worn elegance inviting all who visit. Ironically, Daisy can only assume that visitors to the house were few and far between during Grace's time.

Effortlessly, the key slipped into the lock, and upon entering, Daisy’s bag dropped onto the wooden floors, the sound reverberating through the expansive, vacant house.

"Hello?" Daisy's voice echoed through the space, although she knew well that no one would answer.

Still, she waited for a reply that never came—only the structural creaks and the soft hum of air circulating through the vents persisted. It was eerie, but at least she was not on the streets and the house itself was undeniably beautiful and fully furnished. Daisy had to admit that Grace possessed a talent for home decor. An artist at heart, Grace's creative vision shone through, not just in her painted canvases but also in the ambiance of her house.

Daisy admired the exquisite crown moldings that decorate the ceilings, intricate panels adorn the walls, and ornate chandeliers cast a warm, gentle glow. It was inviting even if she didn’t feel welcome.

Stained glass windows, with their kaleidoscope of hues, scatter fragments of sunset light. The grand staircase, an artful masterpiece that anchors the foyer, leads to the upper floor, its handcrafted banisters a tangible testament to the commitment to the minutiae.

All of it was stunning. It’s hard to believe that Grace was living in this while Daisy endured nights on a couch, lacking a proper bedroom, in a family that seemed indifferent to her presence.

She debated unpacking her bag but was overwhelmed by the day's events. She wanted to take the edge off, to forget. She figured Grace might have left some wine in the kitchen. Grace was rarely without alcohol nearby.

The kitchen was pristine. The house staff, paid ahead of time, had maintained the house and yard even after her death. They hoped to impress a new owner. Daisy wondered what they'd think when they saw the for sale sign at the end of the weekend. She couldn't worry about that now; it might push her over the edge with all that’s on her mind.

Daisy tossed half-empty wine bottles into the trash and found a corked bottle on the rack. She wiped the dust off a Pinot Noir named Goldeneye.

Never heard of it, but it’ll do.

“Aha,” Daisy muttered with satisfaction as the cork popped.

Holding the bottle, she walked to the living room. Taking a hefty sip, she hoped the wine would numb her. The smoky black cherry flavor lingered on her tongue. The house was quiet. Daisy kicked off her shoes, drank some more, and collapsed onto the couch.

"Fuck," Daisy muttered, looking around at her situation. Emotions surged, and she used the wine to drown them.

“Fuck!” She shouts into the emptiness, fighting tears.

Amidst denial and disbelief, laughter bubbled up, an unexpected reaction to her turmoil. Could this really be happening? Maybe it was a terrible nightmare, and she'd wake up soon. She gulped down more wine, trying to steady herself. She pinched her arm, in a desperate attempt to wake up, but the pain was real. She choked back a sob with alcohol.

No, Daisy told herself, forcing herself off the couch. Sulking wasn't the solution. What did she need now? Besides wine, music. Daisy searches the living room and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to spot the record player sitting pretty on the oak table behind the couch. The vinyls are displayed perfectly on a shelf. Daisy’s fingers brush the stack until she comes across Tell Mama by Etta James.

With steady hands, Daisy placed the needle down in the record, and the resulting music gently cradled her frayed nerves. She’s thankful she paid to have the electricity turned on or she would have been sitting in the dark.

For the first time in hours, a smile graced her lips as she raised the half-empty bottle, playfully spinning around the room.

“Sing it, Etta,”

The house came alive with echoes of the music. It felt different, there was a shift in the air.

But a sudden whiff of smoke caught her attention, and she slowed down. She frowned, puzzled.

Was that the smell of cigarettes?

It couldn't be. Chalking it up to the wine's effect, Daisy walked to the window and opened it, welcoming a draft of fresh air. She was beginning to feel hot and that was a sign that she’s had too much too quickly.

Examining the bottle in her hand, she was met with a shocking sight that widened her eyes—within its brown-tinted glass, a man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

The sight paralyzed her momentarily, her scream of terror overpowering the music before the bottle crashed to the floor.

Dizziness engulfs the room, and she clings to the couch for stability. Her gaze shifts to the spilled wine staining the wooden floor, and then swiftly looks up to find the man.

But, he's gone.

"Who's there?!" Daisy's voice trembles as she retreats toward the kitchen, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

The music persists, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke. Daisy snatches the phone off the hook, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she struggles to dial 911.

"Get out now! I'm calling the police!" Daisy's voice wavers as she shouts, her unease palpable.

As she waits for the line to ring, Daisy stretches the phone cord to its limit as she reaches for a kitchen knife.

There is no ringing. The line is dead.

Daisy's heart sinks, and her face slumps as she presses the numbers again in frustration.

No. She forgot to set up a new landline under her name.

“No!” Daisy's exclamation filled the room.

A voice emerged from behind Daisy, “You can see me?”

Daisy spun around, stumbling backward. The same man stood over her with a confused look—a figure both captivating and haunting.

He was taller than Daisy, lean and lanky in build. His dark, tousled curly hair framed his face, the locks falling gracefully over his forehead and partially obscuring his eyes. Those deep brown eyes gazed down at Daisy with curiosity.

“Get back!” Her knife trembled as it rose toward him. “Get out of my house!”

His lips curled up as he leaned down, his face mere inches from the knife's tip. His gaze shifted from the knife to Daisy's widened eyes.

“You’re in my house, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, Daisy thrust the knife into his neck.

A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes what she had just done.

But there is no blood, no cry of pain from him. The knife left no mark.

The man straightened, appearing unaffected and unperturbed. His fingers brush over his neck, and he examined them. A laugh erupted from him as he confirmed his lack of harm. The sound of his laughter startles Daisy. She struggles to comprehend how the knife had passed through him as if he were air.

“Impressive, but you have to try harder than that,” He remarked.

Daisy recoiled, her veins flooded with an icy rush, as he moved through her and vanished.

Through her... he had walked through her as if he were the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

What the actual fuck is going on?

Gasping for air, Daisy struggles to catch her breath, her attempt to regain composure falling short. Her chest feels constricted, as though it might collapse under the weight of her racing heart, while her head continues to spin with disorientation.

This is it. She’s going to die.

In the same house as Grace? Hell no. The thought of that alone has Daisy scrambling to her feet.

Her eyes dart around, and he is nowhere to be found. A surge of adrenaline has her running to the front door. There is a phone in her car. She just needs to make it there and call 911. I’ve got this, she thought.

Daisy didn’t turn around once she made it out the door. She’s seen too many scary movies and they never survive when they slow down to check their back.

She closes the car door with a strong thud, locking it forcefully. Her phone is in the glove compartment, rarely used. It’s a new addition, and she isn't entirely used to having a phone on the go.

With shaky fingers, she dials 911. The operator's voice on the other end is a lifeline, reassuring and guiding her. The calm instructions provided a semblance of order amidst the panic that threatened to engulf her.

Dispatch is en route to her location and that helped Daisy breathe a little easier. Following the operator's directions, Daisy remained in the safety of her car.

She settled into the driver's seat, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the intruder who had shattered her sense of security while she waited for the police to arrive. The absence of the man did little to quell her unease; if anything, the tension remained palpable, coiled within her like a tightly wound spring.

Time seemed to stretch as she waited, every passing second laden with apprehension.

The flashing lights of the approaching police vehicles pierced the darkness, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Relief mingled with lingering fear as Daisy watched the law enforcement officers spring into action. Even though the immediate threat might have dissipated, the aftershocks of the intrusion still reverberated through her, leaving her on edge.

As the officers began their investigation, Daisy recounted the harrowing encounter, her voice shaky but resolute. She cooperated with their questioning, hoping that their presence would help dispel the lingering shadows that had taken hold of her mind.

However, the man who had broken into her home remained elusive. Even though the immediate danger had passed, Daisy couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, which kept her on edge.

As the investigation reached its conclusion, Daisy's version of events started to unravel. No signs of forced entry, no trace of an intruder—her story seemed to be falling apart.

Doubt crept in, exacerbated by the officers' questioning of her sobriety due to the spilled wine and the discarded bottles. Frustration surged within her. They didn’t believe her. Of course they didn’t.

Internally, Daisy wrestled with the wild scenarios her mind had conjured in the heat of panic, like the memory of stabbing the man who simply walked away unharmed and how he disappeared in thin air. She kept these details to herself, focusing on the central truth: she had indeed seen a man, an intruder.

“Perhaps the alcohol took its toll and played tricks on your perception. We've all been there before, Ma’am. It's understandable,” the officer offered, his tone laced with a well-intentioned reassurance.

“No, that's not what happened!” Daisy's frustration surged forth. Her voice held a mixture of anger and determination. “I had maybe half a bottle. I’m not intoxicated. I saw a man, and he was in my house.”

A glance exchanged between the officers told Daisy all that she needed to know, and now her patience is wearing thin.

This day had tested her resilience. Her emotions teetered on the edge of tears, a precipice she was desperate to avoid.

Hold it together, Daisy. Tears will only add to their assumption that you’re insane.

“We're here to help, Ms. Morgan. Let us accompany you inside,” The officer suggested kindly. “It's getting late and about to rain.”

Walking back inside, Daisy's thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and vulnerability. As she stepped in, the house no longer felt safe. The officers' presence was comforting, yet it couldn't hide the truth: Her space had been invaded, not just by a stranger but also by doubts that made her question her reality.

“We've checked your home thoroughly. There is no one here. I can promise you that. Now, If you come across anything else suspicious or unusual then give me a call. Here is my card.”

The officer hands over the card, offering well wishes for the evening, then heads towards their car and drives away.

Daisy lingers in the doorway as rain begins to fall. She wonders if she’s losing her sanity—could she have imagined everything? Doubt sneaks into her thoughts like an unwelcome intruder, picking at her beliefs. Yet, the uncomfortable sensation in her gut persists, a reminder that things aren’t right. Her emotions converge, forming a bubble of anger in her chest. She’s tired of looking like a fool.

With a forceful slam, the door shuts behind Daisy as she enters the living room, her steps heavy and furious. She scans the room, finding it empty and shrouded in silence. The music has stopped, leaving only the wine stains as the only reminder. She scowls, her eyes fixed on the red-stained wood.

“Where are you?” Daisy’s voice reverberates through the room in a shout.

No response.

“Show yourself! I know you’re here.”

Silence. Total silence. Daisy’s face glistens with dampness, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. The tears, once contained, now break free like a dam bursting open.

Daisy pulls out her cell phone, her vision blurred by tears and sobs catching in her throat. With shaky fingers, she dials ten digits, and amidst the ringing, she eases down the wall, finding herself on the floor. Even though she doesn’t expect an answer, hearing Sloan’s voicemail gives her a small sense of comfort.

“Yeah, you reached Sloan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

A loud beep sounds, and Daisy takes a moment to collect herself. “Sloan,” her voice quivers, “I need you. Please call me back when you can.”

Daisy draws her knees close to her chest, enveloping them with her arms as she lowers her head. This, she acknowledges, is her lowest point. Here it is, the culmination of losing her fiancé and her sanity, all within a single night.

Daisy’s attention is grabbed by a heavy sigh, causing her to look up. Everything in her freezes. There he sits, on the counter’s edge opposite her, absently twisting the ring on his finger.

“You know, there’s something about a girl crying,” he murmurs, drawing a breath before slapping a hand over his chest, “It just tears me up.”

Though his words carry a genuine tone, his eyes hold an elusive expression she can’t quite place. Daisy remains frozen, her gaze locked on him.

Their eyes meet, and he speaks softly, “You’re killing me, Daisy. And I’m already dead.”

Chapter two coming soon

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#eddie munson x original character #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fanfiction series #Eddie Munson ghost #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x female original character

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