#i used to dream about washing your hair and taking care of you

[bunnyrights]

TAROT INTERPRETATION - being with Jung Wooyoung

judgment + ten of cups + the fool + the sun

he is very sentimental about love; he wants it to feel safe and all encompassing. he wants it to consume you both, and it wouldn't falter on his end. he dreams of growing old with who he's with and still being madly in love with each other. he is unapologetic and proud of who he loves because he genuinely feels gratitude for having them. he's one to brag and gush over you because he believes it's a blessing and pure luck to have found someone who loves just as passionately as he does.

he would make sure you're well taken care of and you always feel secure; he would ensure you're dressed in finery and you get used to weekly spa treatments + "just because" flowers. his sentimental streak makes him one to bring you souvenirs from every trip he takes; he'd always wonder about you when you're apart. when he visits a place, he keeps in mind all the places he wants to revisit with you by his side. he is intentional in his show of affection; he wants you to have what you want, even before you've realised what exactly it is. he wants you to look and feel amazing because he genuinely believes your being content is directly related to how he shows up for you.

he definitely asks for more kisses and he looooves touching. his hand would always be on the small of your back or around your waist, especially in public. it's less about showing ownership and more about expressing how much he loves that you're with each other. he would adore you and he'd let it be known, both privately and publicly. i see he's not one for pda but you two would be caught sharing longing gazes and laughing together often. i'm seeing a couple seated on the same side of a booth in dim lighting, hands chastely but suggestively placed on each other while you talk about the most mundane things. he would pick at your brain often, because your world view is something he'd be drawn to very much.

he loves to touch and kiss but he's not quick to sexualise you. you could be fully nude in front of him and he'd be in awe of how beautiful you are rather than thinking of what he wants to do with and to you. he would love to be naked around you, in a very innocent way. like a metaphor for how safe you both are to exist in front of each other, knowing you are seen as you are and loved fully for and despite it. he'd love to shower together often, the intimacy of yapping and washing each other with no sexual intent. he just loves soaking you up every chance he gets, and it'll never get old to him.

his sentimentality would make him the one to bring up marriage and children unprompted, and he'd be very giddy at the prospect. he loves the idea of cultivating a family together, raising children with unconditional love and fiscal safety. he likes the idea of being the one to cut the children's hair, teach them to swim and ride bikes, that kind of thing. he isn't necessarily into traditional values, he just sees it as a chance to keep creating and sharing love. he would be such a great father, like you would find yourself falling in love with him all over again watching him with your children.

he loves fully and honestly; he bares his heart and wants someone who does the same. he wouldn't force you to and he wouldn't even ask, he'd show you it's safe for you to do so by doing it himself. there'd be an obvious maturity to his love. he isn't naive and he's been heartbroken before, but he is able to keep being so loving because he knows the love he wants is a dual effort so if it doesn't work out, he knows it isn't the love he wants. he is unapologetic and it'd be a little unnerving at first, particularly in the age we're in, but you'd feel so at home with him and even question how you'd have been suspicious of him at all.

[raspberrysgod]

it still so crazy that one day you just don’t love someone anymore like after a year i just can’t feel anything that i once had when staring right in front of the person i want to spend everyday with.

[daenysx]

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

[innerfare]

I Love You - Part 1

Summary: Who says I love you first? How do you say it?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He showed it first, asking you to join his crew, making sure you had a safe and healthy place to be yourself, fighting anyone who stands between you and your dreams, saving his funniest jokes until you're around to hear and giggle at them, even going so far as to share a little (really, only a little) bit of his meal with you, but you were the only who actually said it first. He gets severely injured after a nasty fight, and you stay by his side while he sleeps it off like he normally does, though it takes him longer than usual to wake up. When he does finally wake up looking for you and something to eat, you fling yourself on him and tell him how much you love him. You didn’t intend on confessing, but you were so worried about him and the words fell from your lips as soon as you knew he was okay. Your brows are still furrowed, and when Luffy asks why, you voice your insecurity that he doesn't feel the same way. Luffy just laughs at that and ruffles your hair. “Of course I do.” With that, he crawls out of bed in search of food. He quickly falls into the habit of telling you in the morning when you wake up, and it fills you with so much joy, it’s like he’s giving you a happy vitamin to start your day. And saying those words bring him so much joy that saying them is like he's taking a happy vitamin, too.

Zoro: To your surprise, it was Zoro who said it first. Though Zoro seems the type to bottle up his emotions, he’s actually not, he just doesn’t seem emotional because he’s really good at dealing with his shit. And he knows all too well how temporary arrangements can be, how quickly life can be snuffed out, how easily the people he loves and cares about can be taken away from him. So one late night when he’s alone in the shower, washing his hair (using Nami's expensive shampoo and conditioner because she left it in the shower and Zoro just uses whatever's within his reach) and thinking about you, he realizes how he feels, and he doesn’t even consider not telling you. He climbs into bed afterward in just his boxer briefs, his hair still damp and smelling extra good, shakes you awake, kisses you a few times, and mutters that he loves you in your ear before passing out, not even waiting for you to say it back. He doesn’t say it often after that because he doesn’t thinks actions matter more than words, but he always says it when one of you is injured or after an argument. 

Sanji: Sanji technically confesses first, but you’re the one who actually says those three words. He’s holding your hand in both of his, clutching it close to his racing heart, as he looks down at you, telling you all the ways you make his life better, all the things he’s looking forward to doing with you, all the energy he’s going to put into keeping you happy, healthy, and safe. And the words just sort of fall from your lips. He stops mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth open. The seconds drag on in silence before he’s pulling your lips to his. Both of you are very generous with these three words, saying them often and in public. If you ever hang up the transponder snail without telling him you love him, he’s calling you right back to make sure everything is alright. (Also, not really relevant, might do a separate post about this, but Sanji is definitely a heart-shaped jewelry sort of guy. He just is. Certified lover boy.) 

Ace: Your first, more implicit confession came one night before you two were ever in a relationship. You noticed he was a little off and saw him slip away from the crew as they were drinking the night away. You found him sulking by the water and sensed he was hurting, especially when you asked to say and he told you he’d rather be alone. Before you leave, you tell him, “I just wanted you to know that I’m happy you’re alive.” You had no idea that it would strike a nerve, just got the feeling he needed to hear it, and this was confirmed by him grabbing you by the wrist as you walk away and pulling you into his arms. You continue finding implicit ways to tell him you love him such as, “I think the world is a better place with you in it,” and, “I’m so glad you were born,” and Ace is never really sure how to respond, but he soaks your words up like they’re sunlight and he’s a plant. This culminates in him blurting those three words out one day when you’re sitting in a tree together, Ace avoiding your eyes for fear you’ll reject him. When you lean in and kiss his cheek, instead, he almost cries (and he does when he’s alone later on, your love the purest thing he’s ever known). 

Sabo: Sabo is always taking risks. He lives a dangerous lifestyle as the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army, and on top of being one of the most wanted criminals in the world, he is an incredibly reckless individual who thrives when his life his threatened. He does not, however, thrive when your life is threatened. So accustomed to being the one others are fretting over, so used to Koala telling him off for taking this risk or making that dumb decision, he is completely blindsided by the anxiety he experiences when he finds out you’ve been captured. Naturally he launches a rescue attempt, and when it succeeds, he wraps you in his arms and tells you how much he loves you. He always makes sure to say it after that, telling you in the morning when you wake up and at night when you go to bed together, the memory of not having you there to hear it all too fresh. 

Law: Law is pretty bad with words, and, for lack of a better term, he sort of lacks a bedside manner. Needless to say, this carries over into other aspects of his life, including his love life (or lack thereof; Law has little to no experience in this arena). One afternoon, though, the two of you are fighting because you want to accompany Law somewhere and he insists it’s too dangerous despite all of your qualifications and skills as a fighter. You keep pressing and pressing, demanding to know why he won’t let you go when you are perfectly capable, until finally he blurts it out. “I love you! Alright? And I won’t lose you.” You aren’t even in any sort of relationship at that point, the two of you just sort of stewing in unresolved tension. His irate confession is the tipping point, and you become an item after that. When you hear it from him after that, it’s always in private, usually in the late hours of the night when he slips into bed and buries his face in your neck. Other times, it’s when you two pass each other in the hallway aboard the Polar Tang and he catches your hand in his, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles, muttering the words, and moving along quickly for fear someone might see despite the entire crew knowing about your relationship. 

Kid: You say it first. You say it a couple of times, actually, before you ever hear it back. You’re sitting in his workshop watching him build something, and you just sort of blurt the words out. You swear Kid hesitates before picking up the next piece of metal, but he gives no real acknowledgment you uttered those three words. Knowing exactly the sort of man he is and not expecting to receive anything in return, just wanting him to know how you feel in the moment, you aren’t actually offended, but you are wondering if he didn’t hear you. So, the next day in his workshop, you say it again, once more receiving no response. The third time you say it to him, catching him while he’s painting his nails, you receive a grunt in response (Kid is a man of grunts, not a man of words). Only in the heat of battle do you hear it back. He catches you around the waist and picks you up, and you fight thinking it’s an enemy, only for him to say, “I love you,” in your ear before deflecting a canon ball headed straight for the two of you and then setting you on your feet like nothing happened. From that point forward, he’ll say it, but only at inopportune times.  

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[missadangel]

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 4: No More Secrets

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

Chapter Summary: Returning to NYC, heartbroken and jobless, you decide: no more secrets or tears and no more Harry. But he's a 40-year-old boy determined to find you in the city to make things right. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 8,5k, depression, dirty talk, fluffy, and angst... authors note: I'm in midterms and planned to publish the chapter on Monday, but I received so many requests asks from you guys and that I couldn't let you down. Thank you!

When the jet touched down at the airport, the sun was rising over New York City, casting a warm glow over the city. A tight knot formed in your chest as memories flooded in—thinking about the last time you left, whom you were with, and why you weren't returning with him this time. Stepping back into this beautiful city made you sigh. You knew that everything was about to change, which was good in some ways—you wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not anymore. However, it was also painful because you returned with a broken heart that would take time to heal.

Then there was the fact that starting tomorrow, you wouldn’t be working at Jack's place anymore—you’d be unemployed. During the flight, you barely said a word since he was glued to his laptop the whole time, always hustling. He was nice about it, though, treating you like a special guest instead of just a former employee. He made sure you had food and even set up a private spot in the back of the jet for you to sleep.

Once you both arrived at the Upper East Side, he mentioned you could stick around for a few more days if you wanted. You turned him down, saying it was all good because you had somewhere to go, and you really didn’t want to deal with Melanie’s face. Back in your room, you immediately started packing. The other maid girls came over, upset to see you go and wanting to talk to Jack on your behalf, but you stopped them, saying it was best for everyone and you knew it was the right call.

As you removed your dress and jewelry, tears began to well up, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. When you touched your right ear, you realized you had lost one of your earrings; it must have fallen out. Your mind was racing with so many thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed it was gone. A sense of panic washed over you as you thought, “I hope I didn’t drop it while running through the streets of Paris.”

You tossed the dress, jewelry, and heels—everything Harry had bought you—into a bag and pulled out the suitcase from the wardrobe that you hadn’t opened in three years. Your job never really gave you a chance to take a vacation. Even if it did, where would you go with such a tight budget? The closest thing to a holiday you had was last summer when the Johnson family took a trip to Miami from NYC. During their absence, you begged your cousin Zoe, who was working as a seasonal waitress at a hotel in Clearwater, Florida, to let you tag along. You had a great time for three days until you got caught swimming during work hours and were kicked out. You had used a small handbag back then, but now you needed the suitcase you brought from Atlanta—your trusty old friend. It held not just your clothes but also your hopes and dreams, and it had been your companion while you explored New York.

You slipped into some comfy clothes: blue jeans and a black blouse with open sleeves. With your hair in a ponytail and sneakers on, you were ready to head southeast to Brooklyn. As you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you sighed. It felt like three years ago when you were putting on these clothes, but this time, your hopes and dreams were overshadowed by heartbreak and regrets. Still, you weren’t the same girl you were back then. You felt determined and closer to your dreams, no matter what. You promised yourself you wouldn't be one of those girls crying over a guy. You’d been standing on your own two feet all this time, and that’s how it was going to stay. You zipped up your suitcase, set it on its wheels, and took a last look at the room before grabbing the handle and heading out. When you opened your door, you saw Danilo and all the other maids and staff from the mansion gathered in the hallway. You hugged and said goodbye to each of them when you heard Jack’s loud voice coming from down the corridor.

“Jack is really angry, so no one wants to get close to the main hall,” one of the girls explained.

You shivered at the thought of running into Melanie and her mom; meeting them was the last thing you wanted.

“I’ll head out before they spot me,” you said, glancing back at the staff one last time. They all looked at you with sad eyes. “I promise I’ll come visit again,” you added with a smile.

“Make sure you do!” they urged you.

“Oh, Cara mia, I’m going to miss you,” Danilo said.

“Me too,” you replied and gave him a tight hug.

They waved as the lift doors closed, and you waved back. The soft beep of the elevator reminded you it was time to go. As you walked toward the exit, Garry, Jack’s driver, noticed you and your suitcase. He stopped wiping the rearview mirror and came over.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“No, I’m good. I just want to take a walk. By the way, did you happen to find any earrings in the car?”

“Earrings? Nope, haven’t seen any,” he said.

You let out a sigh, feeling a bit worried. “Is there any chance you could call the jet pilot or someone from the crew? It’s pretty important.”

“Sure thing, I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks a bunch, Garry,” you said.

“Anytime, girl. If you need a driver, you know how to reach me,” he replied with a wink.

“That’s really nice of you. Thanks! Take care.”

“You too!” he said.

As you started walking down the street, you waved back at him. At first, your steps felt a bit unsure, but they quickly picked up pace as the mansion faded from sight behind you.

The tires let out a sharp squeal as the sleek black Mercedes glided to a stop beside Jack's car, which he parked erratically, and slammed the door a little too hard before hurrying to the front door of the mansion. Garry was still busy wiping down the car, surprised to see him, but he continued his work. 

Harry, out of breath, impatiently rang the bell repeatedly and pounded on the door. “Jack! Open up, dammit!” he shouted, glancing toward the windows. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he looked around anxiously. A moment later, Jack appeared in the doorway, puzzled. “Harry? What in God's name?” 

“Where is she? Is she in there? I need to talk to her,” Harry said, desperation clear in his voice. 

Jack squinted at him, very calm in contrast to him, “Who? Who are you talking about?” 

He had to be kidding. 

Harry exhaled a deep breath of frustration. 

Damn it, he didn’t even know your real name. 

“You're banging on my door for a maid whose name you don’t even know?” Jack remarked with disbelief.

“I’m not leaving until I see her,” Harry shot back, determined. 

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time because the others just told me she left the house.” 

Harry's heart clenched. “What do you mean she left? Where did she go? Did you kick her out?” 

“I can't have anyone in my house who goes behind my back, including my own daughter. I'm sending her away, too. Besides, it’s not your business. Why do you care?” 

Harry didn't have a clear answer to that; he just knew he couldn't let you go. He had to find you. 

“Look, just let her go; it's for the best. You know that I'm right,” Jack said dismissively.

“No, I don’t,” Harry muttered stubbornly. “Tell me where she went. You must know where she is.” 

“How would I know?” he lied. Just then, his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take this. I’ll wait for you at my house some other time, but now is not the right time,” Jack said, closing the door. 

Harry frowned and cursed under his breath. 

Garry, who had seen the whole thing, cautiously walked over to Harry, making sure Jack didn’t see him. “She left like ten minutes ago and walked down the street,” he said quietly, pointing in the direction you headed. “That way,” he whispered.

Harry shot him a quick look, then followed the direction he was pointing with a nod. “Thanks,” he said, feeling a rush of hope and excitement. He jumped back into his car, fired it up, and hit the gas. The tires screeched even louder this time as the car shot onto the road. But of course, traffic was not on Harry's side. He usually didn’t drive himself in the busy streets of New York, but this was an emergency. He kept looking around as he drove, searching for any sign of you.

“Damn it, where are you?” he kept muttering.

He drove past Central Park, zigzagging through traffic, but still no sign of you. It felt like trying to dig a well with a needle. Not the greatest driver to begin with, he was so busy looking around that he didn’t see a garbage can in front of him. When he finally spotted it, he slammed on the brakes, but there was a slight bump anyway. 

"Shit!" He growled.

A nearby cop came over and motioned for him to pull over. There was no real damage to the car—just a busted headlight and a small dent in the bumper—but he was pretty sure he’d get a ticket for hitting public property.

He didn't care about the ticket; he was frustrated and slammed down hard on the steering wheel. “Fuck! How am I supposed to find you now?” he growled to himself.

The old, rusty building stood in stark contrast to the large, luxurious one you had left on the Upper East Side just a few hours earlier, but for some reason, it felt warmer, even cozier. You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, practicing a bright smile until Zoe opened it.

“Whoa! Jesus Christ! Is that really you?” she said, bursting with excitement as she jumped into your arms.

You laughed and hugged her with one arm. “Yep, it’s me, Zoe. I’m back.”

Zoe pulled back, her expression shifting to a frown as she glanced at your suitcase and then back at you. 

"Will you have me as your flatmate for a while? Just like old times?"

“Are you kidding me? Come on in!” she said, motioning for you to enter as she closed the door behind you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t call you. My phone’s off because…” you mumbled as you stepped inside.

'Because I really didn't want to answer the calls from that charming millionaire who had kicked me out the moment he found out the truth about me,' you thought to yourself.

“Oh wow, sounds like a lot has happened, right?” she said, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “And I guess it’s not exactly rainbows and butterflies?”

“Kind of,” you replied.

“Come on, sit down. Spill everything,” she urged.

You flopped down on the couch, grabbing one of the cushions. “It’s a long story, and I’m not even sure where to start,” you said lazily.

She peeked into your bag before placing it on the table. “Start with this,” she said, holding up a diamond necklace she pulled from your bag, her eyes wide with surprise.

As the days dragged on, it wasn’t easy for either you or Harry. You were both dealing with your own stuff, but somehow, it felt like you were struggling with the same things. Now unemployed, you immediately began searching for a new job. You had applied to several cleaning companies, including your former employer, but hadn't heard back from any of them yet. The generous severance pay that Jack had given you was not enough to open a small bakery and pursue your dreams—at least not in NYC, maybe in Atlanta, which sounded like "Nah." So you had no choice but to find work; the bills needed to be paid, and you didn’t want to burden Zoe. As a waitress, she already worked nearly 8 to 10 hours a day, and by the time she got home in the evening, she was exhausted. 

It was one of those nights when she worked late again. When she finally got home, she was taken aback by the scene—though she really shouldn’t have been, given that she had an unemployed, depressed roommate. You were sprawled out in front of the TV, devouring a cream pastry you had made, totally lost in the show. You were deeply connecting with the character’s drama. 

“He’s going to leave you, you idiot; all guys are the same,” you muttered at the screen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re back, didn’t see you there,” you said.

“Seriously, what is all this?” she asked, eyeing the mess: clothes and pastries everywhere, and the kitchen a total disaster. “You sure you’re a housekeeper?”

“An unemployed housekeeper,” you shot back.

“Right,” she said, putting her bag on the table a bit awkwardly. “Alright girl, that’s it.”

You just blinked at her while still chewing on your pastry. She walked over, snatched it from your hand, turned off the TV, and yanked you up by the arm.

“Are you planning to kick me out? I promise I’ll cover the rent with some of my severance pay.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “And how are you going to chase your dreams then? Come on, get up. Let’s move.”

“So you’re not kickin’ me out?”

“What are you? A stray kitten or something?”

The word “kitten” hit a nerve and brought up something you didn’t want to deal with, tightening your chest. You made a face.

“Then what?” 

“It’s time for an intervention,” she said, nudging you into the bathroom. It was small but okay, and when you stood in front of the mirror, Zoe adjusted you to face it.

“Look at yourself. You haven’t combed your hair in two days,” she said, running her fingers through it. “Your eyes look sunken from crying and lack of sleep.” You blinked in disbelief at the dark circles under your eyes— what the heck? Embarrassed, you quickly licked the corner of your lip to get the pastry cream off.

“Where’s the strong girl I used to know? This isn’t her at all. This is a total stranger—someone who’s given up, someone who’s lost the fight,” she said, looking seriously at your reflection. “You've let yourself go, and it’s starting to worry me. Babe, you need to pull yourself together.”

She was right, of course.

“Look, I’ll be inside, and when you come out, I want you to look refreshed, okay?” 

You nodded at your reflection, and she nodded back. “Good. I’ll give you some time. Shake it off and get it together. I’ll be waiting,” she said, giving you a supportive pat on the back.

That’s when you realized how bad you had let things get. Had you really looked like that for days? It was awful. You felt completely lost.

But no, you hadn't lost the battle, you were just getting started. You threw off the clothes that felt like they were sticking to you - you hadn't left the house in three days, so you'd been wearing them all the time. You stripped completely naked and turned on the shower. It took a while to heat up - old pipes, old flat. While you waited, you brushed your teeth and splashed cold water over your face.

As the hot water started streaming, you jumped in and let out a sigh—it was just what you needed. You washed yourself off, hoping to scrub away the worries clouding your mind at the same time.

When you looked in the mirror again after your refreshing shower, you smiled for the first time in days. 

You felt different and rejuvenated.

You also felt silly for spending your days in misery.

Keeping your smile natural, you walked into the living room.

“That’s my girl!” Zoe cheered.

You rushed over and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Zoe. You’re such a great friend.”

“So are you. How are you feeling?”

It was a question she’d never asked before, probably because the answer was hard to face every day. After thinking for a bit, you replied, “I’m feeling hopeful, ambitious, and determined.”

"That’s exactly what you need."

“Right?” you said, smiling. “I’ll call Danilo and let him know I’m going to the hotel tomorrow to take the chef's assistant gig, at least until I land something better.”

"Awesome! We can get rid of these pastries," Zoe said, still snacking on one.

You crossed your arms and shot her a playful look. 

"I mean, they’re amazing, and you’re really talented, but you’ve wiped out our flour and sugar stash. Plus, you need to bake somewhere other than home."

You glanced at the tray of pastries on the table. "Should we share some with the neighbors?"

Zoe’s eyes lit up. "Neighbors? That’s a great idea!"

She grabbed a plate from the kitchen and piled it high with the pastries you whipped up. You raised an eyebrow as she adjusted her dress in the mirror before bouncing out the door. 

"I think we’ve got a cute neighbor," you said with a smirk. 

She laughed. "Oh, it's one of the guys down the hall, John. He’s a waiter too and super hot—tall, buff, and those blue eyes!" 

You raised your eyebrows with a big grin. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush, huh?”  

"Let's say his eyes are blue like the Atlantic, and I'm going down like the Titanic."

“Wooohooo!” you whistled, and you both burst into laughter.

"Wish me luck!" she said she walked out.

Once you headed to your room to get dressed, you took off the towel wrapped around you and pulled out some fresh underwear from the drawer. As you put them on, your eyes landed on the bag sitting on your nightstand. You had almost forgotten about it, having intentionally ignored its presence.

Then you grabbed your phone, which you had stuffed away in the sock drawer, and turned it on. You figured it was time to confront what you’d been avoiding, especially since you’d been feeling good now. As soon as the phone lit up, tons of notifications popped up. You had used Zoe’s number for job applications, but that felt pointless now. You’d need to change that as soon as you found a new job.

Feeling uneasy, you swiped through the notifications without looking. You already knew who they were from, and you didn’t want to care. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

But deep down, you knew you’d take a peek.

There were missed calls and texts from Oliver and then from Harry.

So, he got himself a new phone.

That was a relief.

You could've called Oliver, but texting felt like the safer bet.

"Can we meet tomorrow? It’ll only take a few minutes. I have something to return."

Next, you called Danilo to see if his offer was still stood. While you were waiting for his reply, Oliver hit you up with a text.

"Sure. Where?"

Danilo called back just in time to tell you that the hotel chef was totally chill about it and is expecting you tomorrow. He mentioned, with a hint of smugness, that the chef is one of his best buddies. Plus, he owed him a favor as they're both Italian.

Since the hotel is in Manhattan, you set up a meeting with Oliver at a bar there during rush hour. You should’ve just handed over the bag and cut ties with him for good, but something kept bothering you: the missing earring.

You had no clue how much it was worth, and that freaked you out—probably more than your whole bank account. To Harry, it might be a sneeze, but you still needed to pay him back, even if it meant giving up all your severance pay.

You really hoped it wasn’t worth that much.

Otherwise, you were fucked.

"How long has he been like this?"  

"Almost five days."  

“Fucking hell.”  

Oliver and Harry's close friend Maria exchanged worried glances as they looked at him. Harry's daily routine was a bit different from yours. Every morning, he got up and continued to work with a renewed sense of ambition, but he preferred working from home. This was manageable in the beginning, but as the meetings piled up, it became overwhelming.  

Maria was not only one of his business partners but also an old friend. No matter how hard she tried to cope in his absence, she couldn’t manage without his support. She was already navigating life as a mother going through a divorce, and Harry's situation only complicated things further. Years ago, Maria’s husband and Harry had started a business together, working tirelessly to build it up. Despite facing challenges along the way, they always found a way to overcome them.  

Maria and Harry's friendship dated back to their childhood. She knew him wel. She knew he had always had relationships with women, especially after achieving millionaire status and becoming a successful businessman. He was the kind of man who was passionate in love, compassionate, and willing to make sacrifices when he found someone special. However, things had not gone well with his last relationship, and the fallout affected him deeply. Now, he found himself in this troubled state for the second time.  

Harry maintained his routine despite Oliver's pleas for days. He would wake up early, check his phone, go to work, and then drive around in front of Jack's house in the afternoons. But it all felt futile; there was no trace of you. It was as if you had vanished—like a fairy tale, just like Cinderella.  

Oliver tried reaching out to the dating agency, but it didn’t go anywhere. He talked to Jack again. He was convinced he was hiding something, but the guy was tight-lipped. No one could provide any information about your whereabouts. All Oliver had was your name and your resume, and there was no current address listed. He felt a sense of failure, worried for Harry for the first time in a long time.  

That’s why he froze when he saw the message on his phone that evening. He stared at it in disbelief, having saved your name as Melanie on his phone. Now, knowing your real name, he changed it back and considered how to respond to the message—whether to tell Harry or not. Ultimately, he knew he couldn’t keep something like this from Harry, especially when he was anxiously waiting for any news about you.

He walked over as Maria was on a mission to get Harry to hit the bar for a drink. 

“I'm not in the mood,” Harry mumbled, sprawled out on the couch with his arm over his face.

“Ollie, can you say something to our grumpy buddy?” Maria complained, looking at Oliver.

Oliver was a bit lost in thought; he cleared his throat, “Uh, Harry.”

Harry moved his arm away from his face and glanced at him. "You'd better take a look at this." Oliver handed the phone to him, showing him the message on the screen.

Maria continued. “And, if you want, I can take you to a strip club or something, like the old days—my treat,” she suggested, sitting on the edge of the couch and looking like she was about to give up. 

When Harry finally saw the message you sent to Oliver, he shot upright and grabbed the phone from him. 

A grin spread across his face.

"Oliver, what have you done to make Mr Happy smile again?"

Oliver chuckled, “Not me; it was all her. Thank God for that.”

“I should just call her,” Harry mumbled.

Oliver grabbed the phone back. “She isn’t going to answer. She said she just wants to drop something off and doesn’t want to talk with you—at least, not yet.”

“I don’t care; I want to talk to her. I really need to see her,” Harry pushed back, frowning.

“I don’t think she wants to see you, man.”

“You really think that would stop me?”

“Nope, not at all.”

Maria jumped in, “Why don’t I just handle the talking—girl to girl? I’m really curious about her anyway.”

“No way.”

“Not happening.”

“Relax! I’m not going to bite her or anything,” she said, folding her arms.

“Look, I told her I’d go alone. But if you want to talk to her too, fine. You should get your act together anyway.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I need to figure this out, Ollie.”

“Alright, it’s getting late. I’ve got to bounce. See you in the morning.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket and left while Harry went into the bedroom.

“Am I invisible or what?” Maria huffed.

“Just go home, Maria! I’m good; there’s nothing to worry about!” Harry's voice echoed in the hallway.

“Yeah, I can see it! You must care about this girl more than I thought if just one text can change your mood like this after we’ve been working hard for days and my efforts feel wasted.”

“Sorry about that!”

“Wow, you didn’t even put in an effort,” she said as she made her way to the door. “Hope that girl feels the same about you, dude. Catch you later.”  

Harry thought about it while putting his T-shirt on. That’s what he was kinda unsure about—how you actually felt, especially after what went down last time. But he was set on making things right.

Whatever it took.

It was one of the most luxurious hotels in Manhattan. You arrived early in the morning, bubbling with excitement as you rushed straight to the kitchen. Danilo informed you that Chef Bruno prided himself on punctuality and had little patience for tardiness. You felt the weight of this when he grimaced slightly, revealing that you were only two minutes late—perhaps you weren't so early after all. Fortunately, he was also kind and helpful, and you soon impressed him by preparing and serving every dessert he requested throughout the day.

The kitchen buzzed with energy, resembling a beehive. Commis chefs and cooks labored over their dishes as waitstaff darted about, meticulously inspecting each plate before delivering them to the guests.

By evening, as the sun began to set, you had adjusted to the frantic pace.  You couldn't help but dream of one day running your own bakery-restaurant amid such a whirlwind once you completed your training and got ready to receive your certificate. But you recognized that achieving that dream would require hard work and dedication.

As you glanced at your watch, you realized your meeting with Oliver was drawing near. Just as you were about to remove your apron and toque, a waiter approached Bruno and whispered something in his ear. Bruno turned to you with a glint in his eye, saying, “Here’s your chance to really shine.”

“I thought I had done enough for today,” you replied, the fatigue evident in your voice.

Bruno chuckled, “What you've accomplished so far are just baby steps, my dear. If you can whip up my specialty, the chef’s special, you might just receive that certificate sooner than you think.”

“I thought dinner service was over,” you replied with a frown. “Most of the staff has already called it a night.”

You felt utterly drained—exhaustion was an understatement.

“Do you know who we are serving for dessert?” Bruno asked, pulling out couverture chocolates and vanilla pods from a drawer.

You leaned over the counter, resting your elbows on it. “Who is it?”

“The owner of this hotel.”

Surprise lit up your face. “Really?”

“Absolutely! He orders my special dessert every Sunday night. Looks like today is your lucky day.”

“And I thought it was my unluckiest,” you murmured.

“Uh-oh. Success doesn’t come to those who shy away from challenges,” he replied playfully.

“Hey! What makes you think I’m afraid?” you shot back.

“Because you’re whining like a little girl,” he teased.

“All right then, can you share the recipe for your signature dessert, Chef?”

The dessert was a special creation, similar to a chocolate brownie topped with cherry sauce. You managed to prepare it in under half an hour, meticulously garnishing the plate with white chocolate and more cherry sauce.

“Well, not bad,” Bruno said, squinting as he appraised your work. “Let’s hope Mr. Finnegan likes it,” he added with a mischievous grin.

He was careful not to shower you with too much praise—this was no time for complacency, especially since he had asked you to deliver the plate personally.

Before you made your way out, Bruno advised you to carry the plate with one hand, not two, and to have confidence in yourself. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the dining room. You could feel Bruno's gaze following you as you approached the man sitting with his back to you. When he turned around, you were so taken aback that you nearly dropped the plate, ruining the dessert.

Bruno slapped his forehead in frustration, muttering quietly in his native language.

“Y-you... Alan?” you stammered, recognizing him. This was the man you’d encountered in Paris—what was he doing here?

He looked at you in surprise and then smiled. “Oh, you are the girl from Paris, whose name I still don't know.”

Embarrassed, you bowed your head and introduced yourself. “But what are you doing here?”

Alan laughed. “Well, I'm staying here; apparently, I own this hotel,” he replied with a polite smile.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. The coincidence was overwhelming. “Well, excuse me, I didn't know.”

“But I didn’t know you were a chef. You looked like a model or a celebrity the last time I saw you.”

You laughed nervously.

A model? A celebrity?

He must be joking.

"Well, I'm not actually a chef, I'm still trying to get my certificate so I can open my own restaurant."

“Really? I hope you get it. Did you prepare this?”

“Yes, please enjoy your dessert. I hope you like it.” You bowed your head slightly and turned to leave for the kitchen, but he stopped you with a raised hand.

“Why don't you join me?”

“But I... ” Just then, your phone rang. It was Oliver. Damn, it was almost nine o'clock. “I have to take this,” you said, looking at Alan, who nodded and took a forkful of his dessert.

“Oliver, I'm sorry I got held up at the hotel. Do you mind if I'm a bit late?” you asked in a whisper.

He responded from the other end, “Which hotel are you in?”

You told him the name of the hotel and where you were, then hung up. When you looked back at Alan, he was halfway through his dessert. He glanced at you. “It's really delicious. Taste it, please.” He gestured toward the chair opposite him.

It felt a bit awkward, but he was your big boss, so you couldn't refuse—not if you were going to work here with Bruno. You pulled the chair, sat down, and picked up the fork on the table. You took a bite of the dessert and realized it was fantastic. You smiled, proud of your creation. Alan's gaze was fixed on you; there was something strange about it, something you couldn't quite understand.

“Come on, finish it all,” he encouraged with a smile.

“But—”

“Come on, please. It's fun to watch you eat.”

What the hell?

What did he mean by that?

Some men really don’t know how to give compliments.

“So, how do you know Jack?” he inquired, still focused on you.

You swallowed the last bite of your dessert and replied truthfully, “I used to work as a housekeeper at his place.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “That's quite intriguing. But I shouldn't be surprised; I sensed you were a strong woman right from the start.” He chuckled, and you returned a shy smile.

Once you finished your plate, you glanced at him. “I’m really glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Finnegan.”

“Just call me Alan, please,” he said with a warm smile.

At that moment, you heard someone call your name, causing you to jump in surprise. Harry was approaching you from across the hall. You froze, your eyes wide with shock. Instinctively, you took a step back, but before you could react further, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you.

“I finally found you,” he said, resting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you even closer to his chest.

You stayed still, dazed by his sudden appearance. Then, you caught a glimpse of Oliver, and anger rose within you. Placing your hands on Harry's chest, you gently pushed him away.

Alan stood right beside you, and you cursed your luck. What a first impression.

With a quick, icy glance at Alan, Harry grabbed your hand and tugged it. “We need to talk. Come with me.”

“Wait…” you protested, but he held your hand firmly, making it hard to pull away. “I’m really sorry about this, Mr. Finnegan,” you added sheepishly. Alan frowned at the scene but didn't interfere. It seemed they knew each other.

As soon as you stepped outside, you managed to free your arm from his grasp. “Let go of me! What do you want, Harry?” 

He frowned, looking slightly puzzled. But why? Had he forgotten how he treated you last time?

“How dare you just pull me away like that? I was with my boss!” you exclaimed.

“Your boss? Since when is Alan Finnegan your boss? And why are you dressed like this? Aren't you a housekeeper? ” he asked, scrutinizing your outfit.

Right. 

There were no more secrets between the two of you.

Just heartbreak.

“You mean an unemployed housekeeper. Jack fired me, and I think you know that. And Alan, Mr. Finnegan… Wait a minute, why do I have to explain this to you? It’s over between us, isn’t it? Last time, you told me to ‘get out,’ and I did. That was pretty clear.”

Harry shook his head. “I am sorry. I misunderstood. I was angry. I thought you were a gold-digger or a crook. I had no idea you worked at Jack's house, and you didn’t tell me from the start. I felt betrayed. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

At that moment, one of the waiters approached you with your bag—the one you intended to give to Oliver.

“Thank you, Nancy,” you said.

“By the way, the clothes and the hat…” she pointed out, glancing at your outfit.

“Oh, sorry,” you replied, taking them off immediately. Once she left, you handed the bag to Harry. “Here, take this.”

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Stuff that doesn’t belong to me,” you said, looking away.

Harry peered into the bag and then back at you. “Are you serious? These were bought for you.”

“No, they’re for Melanie. I’m not Melanie,” you insisted.

“Why are you doing this?”

You ignored his question. “I couldn’t find one of the earrings, sorry.”

Harry was about to tell you that he had found the earring and had it with him, but before he could speak, you cut him off, making him more frustrated.

“I don’t want to owe you anything. I’m embarrassed enough as it is. I’m ready to pay whatever it’s worth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” And what about the other things? The things that can’t be fixed with money?” 

It was awkward to hear this from him.

You locked eyes, his expression serious and his gaze intense. “You deserve better than me, and you can do better than me,” you said, turning toward the street and starting to walk away.

Harry watched you for a moment before rushing to catch up. “What if I want you and not them?”

You kept walking, not sparing him a glance. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Ever since I first saw you. I like you for who you are, not just for the role you play as Melanie Johnson. If you wanted to object, you should have done it that night.”

“What did you expect? I was wearing her clothes, and you kissed me. I was going to end it, but I couldn’t, and I kept lying.”

"You didn’t have to keep lying for me to like you."

You stopped and faced him. “Who's kidding who, Harry? Do you really think you would have looked at me the same way if you knew I was the maid?”

He paused to think. 

You shook your head. “That's what I thought,” you said, continuing to walk. He followed you.

“You didn't give me a chance. If you had explained everything, I would have answered that question. Besides, you judge me, but I never judged you.”

“But people like you often do. I am invisible to them, just someone who cleans and tidies up. Why should you be any different?”

“You're doing it again,” he muttered.

“What do you want from me, Harry?” you asked, stopping.

“The truth.”

“What truth?”

“You had to lie to me, and I understand that, but was everything a lie?”

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, feeling the weight of his eyes on you. “You want the truth? Part of me wanted to see what it felt like... to have someone like you look at me the way you did, even just once. And I’m sorry. Truly, I am. If I could go back to that night, I would tell Melanie to get off her ass and handle it herself.”

He sighed. “Was it real? Any of it?” His brown eyes searched yours, filled with a desperate plea for honesty. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him—not when he looked like that.

You nodded slowly. “Yes, it was real. So real that I struggled with the thought of letting you go. But I had to— that was the plan. Until that night came along. Then... I couldn’t. And when I walked into the room the other night, I meant to tell you everything, hoping you'd accept me for who I am.” You hastily wiped away a tear that threatened to spill down your cheek.

Harry took your hand, gazing deeply into your eyes. “Can't we start over? A second chance, another date—me as I am, and you as you. No secrets. What do you say?”

Your heart raced, like spring flowers blooming within you. But then that memory flashed in your mind—the moment he kicked you out of the room. What if one day, he hurt you because of your social status? Or if you hurt him simply by being who you are? You pulled your hands back. “Like I said, Harry, you can do better than me. Our worlds are so different; I just can’t fit into yours. Besides, I have my own dreams to chase, and I need to work for them. I made that promise to myself.”

“I can help you make that happen; you just have to ask.”

You frowned. “If I can’t achieve it on my own, then is it really success?”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Go on living as if I never crossed your path. Because that’s what I’ll do. It’s for the best. Goodbye, Harry,” you said coldly, turning away.

This time, he didn’t chase after you. You knew you had hurt him, maybe more deeply. 

But this was better. 

It had to be.

As you stepped out of the subway and started walking home, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Harry. 

What on earth? 

Hadn't you made yourself clear just a little while ago?

You opened the message, your heart racing. 

“If you think I’m going to give up that easily, kitty, you’re mistaken. This isn’t over. It’s just the beginning. I’m going to make you mine.” 

Kitty?

Seriously? 

He's so back.

“Oh great, here we go again,” you muttered under your breath. As you made your way into the apartment building, you managed to open the door behind you with your back, using your foot to close it, texting him back.

“In your dreams, Mr. Castillo.”

“You're already in my dreams, darling.”

You felt your cheeks flush and took a moment to collect yourself before stepping inside your apartment. Upon entering, you noticed Zoe had already made herself at home. 

"Hey honey! How was your day?" she asked cheerfully, but you sensed a strange tone in her voice.

“Oh, don’t even ask,” you sighed.

“Well, I hate to add to your stress, but…” 

“Why? What happened?” 

Zoe stepped aside and gestured towards the couch. “This happened.” 

Your eyes went wide as you spotted an unconscious Melanie sprawled out on the sofa, completely wasted. “What the… Melanie?”

“A blond guy dropped her off this afternoon and just left. I didn’t know what to do, so I waited for you.” 

“Ugh, Nate!” you hissed through gritted teeth. You immediately pulled out your phone and tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. 

“God damn it!” Frustrated, you dialed Jack’s number next, but he didn’t answer either. 

What the hell? 

Just then, your phone rang—finally! But it wasn’t Nate; it was a call from someone on the board of directors for the cleaning company. 

“I’m calling to let you know your application has been approved, and you need to start work tomorrow morning, right away.” 

Zoe looked at you expectantly. “Or?” 

You met her gaze and nodded, which made her clap her hands in excitement. 

“Uh-huh, I’ll be there,” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “Thanks,” you added and hung up. 

“They finally called!” Zoe hugged you tightly. 

“Yes!” you said, beaming with joy, but also wondering why they didn't call Zoe's number but called yours.

“So when do you start?” 

“I have to be at the building by 8 a.m. sharp.” 

“Is it standard house cleaning or regular maid service?” 

“I’ll be cleaning one of the penthouses in the building. They mentioned we’d go over the details about continuity later, and I should be getting the address shortly,” you said, glancing down at your phone.

“What is it?” Zoe asked.

“It’s just a bit strange. Usually, they provide all the details right away, but they didn’t this time. Plus, they specified only one house. It feels like I was handpicked for that particular place.”

“Maybe the owner is really particular and prefers to have just one person working there. And let’s not forget, even though you were let go, you did have three years of private work in a mansion. Your resume speaks for itself.”

“Yeah, you might be right." Perhaps Jack left a glowing reference that influenced their decision.

“Come on, you’ve been waiting for this call for days. Stay positive!” she said, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

Just then, you both heard a series of grunts from Melanie. She rolled over on the couch and started snoring.

“What are we going to do about her?” she asked.

“We’ll tackle that in the morning. Let’s hit the hay before it gets too late. I start work tomorrow!”

“Yes, you do!” 

You both touched each other’s hands, intertwined your fingers, jumped for joy, and embraced again. 

“Let’s celebrate with your first paycheck! You’re buying!”

“Sure thing, girl!”

As you woke up that morning, a long-forgotten feeling washed over you, and a smile crept onto your face as you stepped out of bed. The weight of job responsibilities, the thrill of feeling useful, and the excitement of a new job with a fresh salary all surged within you—an opportunity that edged you closer to your dreams. While getting dressed, a sudden high-pitched scream jolted you. You sighed, recognizing the voice and knowing exactly who it belonged to.

Zoe was already in the living room when Melanie stood on the sofa, wide-eyed and looking utterly bewildered as if she had been kidnapped. 

“Look who finally woke up!” Zoe snarled.

“What on earth are you screaming about?” You hissed

“Nate brought me here?” Melanie was a mess, with disheveled hair and smudged makeup on her face. She sank onto the couch, still feeling dizzy.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. "You've just woken the neighbors, you weirdo," Zoe grumbled as she went to open it. "Oh, hey John!"

“Are you girls okay? I was worried when I heard that scream,” he said, peering inside as you waved him in. “Hey John, sorry!” you replied with a grin. “We’re having a sleepover, and someone is still drunk.”

Zoe flushed bright red, embarrassed at being caught in her pajamas by her crush. You stepped closer to her and stifled a laugh. 

“Wow, that's fine. I was actually going to knock on your door anyway,” he said, glancing over at Zoe. “By the way, are you going to the wedding this weekend?”

“The fancy one with all the celebs and billionaires? Yeah, I’ll be there. They’re paying pretty well,” she said.

“Same here; otherwise I'd have no reason to go. I’m already wiped out from working two jobs during the week; I’m really grinding it out.” 

“Full-time waiter?” you mocked.

“Also doing deliveries,” John sighed.

“Wow, you must be a superhero or something.” 

“Gotta pay the bills, girl. Want to come along, too? I can ask the boss.”

“Pass on the waitress gig, and I don’t need to; they called me yesterday. I was just about to head out for work.”

“Really? That’s awesome,” he responded, giving you a friendly tap on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, John. I need to get ready and head out now,” you smiled at both of them and turned back toward your room.

“Good luck!” he called after you, then turned to Zoe. “We’ll pick you up with the guys Saturday afternoon.”

“Sounds good!” she replied, visibly more relaxed.

You called Nate again as you stepped off the subway, making your way through the streets of Manhattan to the address they had sent you. 

“Yep?” he replied, sounding groggy.

“Listen, that thing you left on my couch yesterday? You need to come and get it right now and throw it out, got it?” 

“Thing? You mean Melanie? Are you really calling her trash?” 

“To me, she is.”

“Come on, babe, I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You raised your voice more than you meant to, causing a few passersby to give you curious glances. Ashamed, you lowered your head and kept walking. 

“Don't you think it's partially your fault Jack kicked her out?” 

“How dare you say that? Do you even hear yourself?” 

Your stomach turned when you heard the unmistakable sound of a girl, no, two girls moaning on the other end of the line, and it hit you why. “I’m a little busy right now. If you're not joining the fun, I should hang up.”

“Ugh! You’re disgusting! I hate you!”

“Love you too, babe,” he said with a cheeky laugh. 

Fuming, you abruptly ended the call and shoved the phone into your bag. “What an asshole.” He was a real pain in the neck. As you continued down the street, thinking about how to deal with Melanie, a car pulled up to the curb just as you crossed the street. You nearly stumbled when you heard a familiar voice. 

“Morning, beautiful.” Harry was leaning back in the seat of his Mercedes, window half down and a grin plastered on his face.

“Harry? Oh, please, not now. Go away—I’m already running late.”

“Want a lift?” 

“No, thanks. After last night, I realized I should avoid you,” you said firmly, resuming your pace. The car kept moving alongside you at a slow crawl. 

“Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?” he asked, still grinning. 

“Look, Harry, I’m really sorry, but I’m starting a new job today and I just can’t fit you into my schedule. Is that clear?”

“Hmmm. Not as clear as the memories of that night in Paris with you meowing in my ear. Which I have been replaying over and over. Like a special kinda music to my ears.” he said, smirking and pointing at his ears.

You paused for a moment, swallowing hard as your cheeks flushed. “Huh! I’ve already forgotten; I suggest you do the same. Just erase the damn tape!”  

He pursed his lips teasingly. “Hmph, I could if I didn’t still have your fingernail marks on my back. Nice color, by the way,” he remarked, nodding at your nails.  

You glanced at the red polish you had applied just the night before, then back at him, watching as he chuckled at your reaction. You frowned and said, “Just knock it off.”  

"I will, but only if you promise to let me take you to dinner one night," he replied with the cutest grin.  

Oh boy.  

Those damn puppy-dog eyes.  

Shit.

Ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Fine, but not anytime soon. I’m swamped with work.” You were already at the entrance of the apartment building.  

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, kitty. See ya!”  

You squinted at him as you crossed the street. He rolled up his window and sped off around the corner. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the building.

“Is everything set?” Harry asked, just settling into his seat at the office. 

Oliver nodded, noticing the grin on his face and his upbeat demeanor. “Yes, the meeting kicks off in ten minutes. Maria's on her way. 

By the way, your invitation arrived. The tailor is expecting you tomorrow. With the wedding this weekend, time is tight.”

“I know, thanks,” Harry replied, setting aside his friend’s wedding invitation. He pulled out his iPad and opened the smart home app, looking as excited as a kid in a candy store.

“Why didn’t you mention that you found the other earring?” Oliver suddenly inquired.

“It just didn’t feel like the right time,” Harry responded.

“Listen, if I know her at all, she’ll want to make it up to you,” Oliver said.

“That’s exactly what I want,” Harry replied.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I had no clue you had a bit of a dark side, buddy."  

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“It’s just an excuse to see her, isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t reply, but Oliver could tell the answer was yes. “Like you wouldn’t see her often anyway,” he suggested with a smirk. “You better put as much effort into your work as you do into chasing her, or Maria's going to kick our asses,” he added before heading out of the office.

Harry tuned him out and connected to the home camera in the penthouse through the app. When he spotted you in your maid outfit, pushing the vacuum cleaner in the hallway, he couldn’t help but smile. “Welcome home, Cinderella,” he murmured to himself. 

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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[redcherrykook]

✰ said you wanna be good but you're beggin' me to come over.

✰ 01 / 2 / 03 / series m list.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags: bestfriendsboyfriend!jungkook, boxer!jungkook, cheater!jungkook (not on oc) , oral (male rec), backshots, choking, praise, clit play, hickies, adressing the problem (not really)

note from cherry: shameless two !! Took me ages,, unedited!!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

He smells like bitter cigaretts and a wet dream ripping you out of your slumber with gentle agression.

Especially after knocking out another opponent with gloved cushioned hands, the red running down his nose accentuates his pink lips. They tend to remain with the taste of iron even after the referee lifts his muscular, bruised arm- even after the celebratory hug to his coach, the sweat droplets mixing in as he barely kisses her over the bounds of the ring, like a boyfriend should. But when the lights dim, and Jungkook looks for you between faces he should feel attached to, you stand out with a proud smile, wrap your arms around his figure and whisper a short word of congratulations into his ear.

Unlike her, you don't bother for his stench ruining your lavender perfume, or the fact that his hair is damp and reeks of leather and iron.

You don't wipe your glossed lips with the back of your hand after the sloppy kisses behind the fighters lockers, instead your tongue seeks him out; seeks his blood, his hard work - you honor it, his win, his strength, his sins, his prayers.

"That was for you, i hope you know" he mutters, smearing the dried blood off his roughed up skin as you kiss down his neck, savouring the sloppy, lazy slump his body makes reactively,

"Not for her?" Jungkook hums, runs his hand through his dishevled hair as the sly grin spreads across his busted lip,

"It's never for her baby"

You're not the girl he kisses first when he beats someone in the ring. You're not the song that rips through his notifications when he doesn't call back immediately, or the one he goes on dinner dates with, buys fresh tulips for. You would never be. It's impossible - almost unfair to attempt and shove you in a box of senseless relationships and ordinary life. Youre not, you can never be. Yet, you desire to be.

His heart doesn't race when she looks at him with wide innocent eyes, not anymore- his cock doesn't twitch when her sliver of skin beneath the hem of her crop top shows as it rides up. She's familiar, he's gotten used to the burn in his nose from her gucci flora that invades him with a simple hug, the routine habit of washing his hoodies after every meeting feels colorless, likewise with the words he forgets to feel everytime they run past him, flow out before he registers that he spoke them.

And when he hears his own deep voice lie to her undeserving face, he doesn't care to stop in utter shame anymore, Jungkook's shameless now. You made him shameless.

"Why don't you just leave her gguk" the statement floats heavy between your desire fueled bodies, your hands dig down his shorts waistband, taking his heavy cock out to slap against his ripped abandomen, he groans, finds grounding in the roots of your strands.

"I promised i will, jus' need time..- mhh- fuck" throaty moans rip from his lips that part as yours do, his head leans back into the hard metal of his locker, gazes down to your seated form in between his muscular thighs

"don't wanna think about her when my pretty girl is on her knees for me" you can't help the giggle that slips between kitten licks to his leaking, pink tip, he recriporates it with low hums, threading his fingers through tangles he created. His other large hand makes its way to cradle your jaw between his fingers,

"wider baby, c'mon"

You comply wordlessly, tear open your jaw for him to grab the base of his girth, slap it against your salivating tongue, "gooood girl" he rasps, turning the sound into a delicious moan.

Heat rises to your cheeks, burning down your body to pool in your panties while he thrusts his hips forward, resting himself into your hot, wet mouth, he hits the back of your throat effortlessly- grips the back of your head like he physically needs to feel your nose hit his pelvis and you gagging around his leaking tip.

Jungkook looses himself in the insistant drag of his cock in your mouth- back, forth, bottoming out, gliding back into it. Wires of warm saliva and little vibrating whimpers hug him into the sensations, he feels dizzy from the pleasure, tugs at your hair in an effort to stablize but it's no use,

"just like that- aah fuck baby" he repeats- chants the strom of eroticism and your sensually deep bobbs into words of praise and groans, lets his eyelids flutter, dim the sight of your arousing frame until all he can do is feel- feel so much at once, that he fails to warn you as the tight rope snaps,

It runs down your throat, creamy and slightly salty and somehow you still swallow every drop jungkook allows you to have, let it drip on your swollen bottom lip when he retracts his flaccid length from your warm mouth.

"Such a good girl, need to get your little pussy filled don't you?" he mutters, already having found the small of your back in his hands, draped you over the bench so your rear would point up to him- show your all to him. His long, tired fingers run along your wetness, stimulate the throbbing button that makes you shrierk- makes you grip the bench with your chipped nails.

"mhh, so wet f'me. My pussy, gonna give it to you sweet thing. Fill that needy little hole"

Jungkooks teeth graze your shoulder for a brief moment, his cock stands tall in the grip of his palm as he rubs it against your entrance, teasing, testing how loud he can make you beg for it- for his ego, for his validation, he does it for all that, but mostly to please you. To ascend your youthful scheme into something flourishingly adolescent with the seemingly only thing he could bring himself to give you. With orgams, his lips, his hands, his cock, his needy groans. All, into something that grew up, grew old, grew stable. Something that, akin to a relationship, stands on footing with ingrown, woven roots.

The feeling that surged in him when he first indulged into your seduction continues to grow aswell- seek his knowledge that he's the one making you cum, he's the one thats filling you with every inch of his cock, watching your pussy stretch around him, take it all. Your siren like, rotten sweet moans confirm his every suspition, deny his every doubt with every repetito of his name that tumbles down your tongue,

"fuck- jungkook right there - h-aah- oh god fuck, fuck"

"mhm.. i know doll.. s'fuckin tight for me"

His eyes practically gleam while watching you- you were just so beautiful, so sexy- bend over just for him, with your spine glistening, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh of your ass- the repeated, sexual noise of his hips slamming into you, his cock plunging in your drenched cunt that sounded so much like love, it felt dangerous

The way he grabbed you by the neck- never stopped to think twice as he pulled you into his uncontrollably raging body- moved in deeper, synced your high pitched cries with his guttural noises, none of it was remotely safe- and while he knew he shouldnt suck on your neck, bite into your skin where everyone would see- jungkook was an animal. Sucked, licked, dug until your neck was decorated with his borderline purple claims, threatening to rock into you so far he'd bruise your cervix

"m'gonna come so hard- ohh fuckk kook"

You, exhausted, blissed, drinking in every deep thrust of is- felt every suck on your neck- couldnt help but fall into his perfectly set trap like a unknowning doe. Succumb to his thumb that reached around to hastily circle your clit, you cry for him- let him know how good he feels, how your body belongs to him.

Because you, are far from a helpless little doe. You- although he was well aware, craved him. Wanted him. Need him too deeply to care- to consider how someone you loved was going to fall into specs, you desired to own jungkook. To the untrained, naked eye, this is all superficial perversion, lack of dignity.

It was disgusting to wash yourself of his traces, disgusting that you would miss his reminder on your body, disgusting that you grew in love with knowing- he doesn't fuck her like this.

Even more disgusting, filthy even, that fucking him was all you had- and the sole thought made your stomach churn in possessive anger.

And in this very moment, in the midst of melting yourself, watching each other bloom through sloppy thrusts and half annunciated pleas, he gave himself to you- all he gave himself premisision to- once again.

"aah- shiit.. filled you up so goddamn much- lookkk at thaaat.. fuckk.."

The spoken words stretch, short gasps leave your lips while you spasm from loss of contact. He rubs your cheeks, spreads them to watch his cum slowly drop out of your weeping cunt, presses a wet kiss to the leaking entrance to know how it would taste like if he got what he truly wanted - what he was afraid of. Like the shadow of it hadnt been cast for a long time , the unity between your bodies, reaching its daggers further into your vulnerable beings.

"Where did you get those from?" she asked- hushed, with a smirk on her face after youve watched her unwrap her arms around her boyfriend, who, hid the matching pieces to her little puzzle under his shirt.

"A dude from the club. He was.. a bit passionate, i guess" you giggle at her, innocently flash your smile with burning glances to the man behind her, who is paying to mind to you, engaged in conversation with a mutual friend.

"Mhm, damn" she pauses, letting herself soak in a tiny second of sorrow, leans into you a bit, continues- "you know, i kinda miss having sex"

"What? He still doesn't..? Its been a bit"

your heart excelerates, steadily drums pride into your bloodstream, you dont show- instead, your lips contort into a small pout, your trained hand rubs her arm as she sighs in consideration,

"No.. i do feel like.. i don't know its stupid but.." she trails of, biting her lip conflicted.

"No, no tell me. Im sure its not stupid"

deep breath in, as she exhales, it sends a shiver down your spine,

"I kind of.. i dont know, i think he might be cheating on me"

[slttygeto]

to love you is to grow old with you - GOJO. S

synopsis: satoru learns to appreciate the little things in life thanks to you.

c.w: just tooth rotting fluff, wrote this w fem! reader on mind but there are no gendered terms, physical touch being gojo’s love language, slow mornings with pookie bear himself, he deserves all the love.

note: im on a ROLL.

to age is such a blessing and a privilege in itself, and gojo only learns how much he loves it when he notices it on you. it’s not too obvious, he never points it out to you, but over the past couple of years of dating you, he’s noticed a few changes in you, all positive.

your smile lines have gotten deeper with him around, and when he stands in front of the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning to wash his face while you were still fast asleep, he notices how his own dimples have gotten more prominent. he glances at your skin care products and although he appreciates how much you take care of yourself, he is not looking forward for the day where you start buying “anti-aging” cremes or face masks.

he wants the full experience with you, and for the very first time, gojo wants to live for a long time and is certain that he wants to die with you next to him. he doesn’t fear death, he knows it’s inevitable, but something about dying in a boring manner has always irked him—until he met you.

now he doesn’t mind if he gets sick, because he knows you will be there to take care of him. he doesn’t mind when he gets fevers because he knows you’d immediately notice based on his reddened face and would quickly but surely treat his fever and ask him to lie down and be careful, as if the man wasn’t the strongest himself.

he finds himself so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice when you start waking up from sleep and your first instinct is to look for him.

“satoru?” you call out sleepily and satoru snaps out of his thoughts and walks towards your bedroom.

“oh look who’s awake.” he grins when he sees the sleep lines on your arm and face. his hand goes towards your hair as he takes a seat at the edge of the bed and strokes it before leaning in a planting a kiss to your forehead.

“did you sleep well?” he mumbles against your forehead before planting another kiss. “any dreams of me?” another kiss to your nose. “did i look handsome in them?” and another on your cheek before going down to your neck. “were you always my pretty girl in them?” he mumbles against your pulse and you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

“satoruuu,” you whine out loud. “I just woke up,” your hand rests on top of his head when he keeps peppering kisses all over your neck.

“and plus, what were you doing in the bathroom just staring at yourself?” your fingers scratch his scalp and the man immediately melts on top of you, making you lie back down on the mattress.

“i think i changed my mind about aging,” he replies and your other hand rests on the back of his neck before sliding upwards to feel his undercut and scratch the hair there as well.

“changed your mind how?” you feel the man wrap his arms around your middle and pull you tightly towards him. he pushes his face down and plants it on your chest, enjoying the way he gets to hear your heartbeat that seems to have a nice rhythm to it.

“i wanna grow old as long as i get to do it with you,” he mumbles again and his arms unwrap from your middle and you watch as his hands push up the shirt you were wearing to kiss your stomach. “i want us to get wrinkly and ugly together,”

“you can never be ugly,” you say as you roll your eyes at your man but he strongly disagrees and pinches your sides.

“my hairline is receding.”

“please stop taking what nobara tells you so seriously,” you chuckle at how serious he is and a hand rests on his cheek. “in my eyes, you can never be ugly.”

“even when I forget to put my socks in the laundry basket and accidentally use your shower gel?”

“you’re only ugly when you do that.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[pedge-page]

Dream a Little Dream of Me…Getting Absolutely Railed by My Giant Stuffed Teddy Bear.

Plushies!Joel x F!Reader

Idk if anybody remembers but I had written a blurb about Plushies!Joel dreaming about Giant Teddy coming to life and fucking reader. The post got flagged so I don’t remember exactly what was on it, however I decided to re-write something based on it again. 

Warnings: Freaky Shit. Giant Studded Teddy bear comes to life and fucks you. heavy breeding kink. Cuck!Joel. Masturbation. Pregnant sex, riding, doggy and missionary style besties we do it all. sex dream. Daddy kink. dub to non con if you count sleeping Joel fucking awake reader.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“You ever tried taking melatonin?”

Joel rolled his eyes. Jesus, all he wanted to do was rant to his brother about his sleep problems, not be prescribed some drug—

“—they sell it in gummy form. Aint a drug.”

—Alright fine, some mythical gummy bear, that will help him sleep.

“S’fine.”

“They’re pretty good. Got different flavors—“

“It ain’t the gummy bit I care about. I’m a grown man. Can swallow a regular pill.”

“Then try it.”

So that’s how Joel found himself shrugging down two fairly large sized pills, gulping it down with a glass of water.

You had just finished your shower, your skin glowing with a sheen of moisture. “You ready for bed? I brought kitty back!” You wave the infamous squishmellow out in front of you temptingly, hoping to entice your very grumpy, back-aching boyfriend into a soothing slumber. 

Joel snatches Kitty. “I’ll use her again, but I expect that ass up front.” He’d spent the last 10 minutes neatly removing most of your bed plushies and organizing them along the bench, their beady little eyes staring back at him.

With a kiss to his scruffy cheek, you drag him into the now available bed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So there he is, with a plush shoved under his back, your body curled against his front, facing him. 

He breathes heavily, slowly, inhaling your fresh shampoo and body wash. You smelled of vanilla and mint, and it instantly soothed the rough edges of his brain. He didn’t expect the pills to do much, still a little worried that tonight would be yet another restless night. 

He’s about to just close his eyes, lie there and will himself to sleep, until he feels your fingertips lightly tracing the outline of his face.

His eyelids flutter open. “Whatchu doin’?”

“Just relax.” You press your soft lips to his nose. 

Joel grumbles but closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath. 

Your gentle touch strokes along his hair, around his ear, down his jaw, and drawn across his chin before circling round again. It did feel kinda nice. Tickled, but in a soothing way. He cleared his throat, shifting a tad bit.

“Stop squirming and just relax.”

“I am,” he grumbles back, his eyes fluttering open. he’s greeted by your sweet grin coaxing him under your charm. 

He loves lookin’ at you. 

Quite frankly, he loves living with you. There was something domestic about it he hadn’t experienced in a long time, since he was just a kid. Home. That was where you are. Despite his current sleep troubles, albeit a life of a poor and inconsistent sleep routine now catching up to him in such a newly domesticated, routinely life with you, he loves being able to say 'I’m going home to my girl.' 

…And his 200 stuffed animal roommates. But he had already become so intimately familiar with them, they didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Joel can still see Big Brother Teddy slumped in the corner of the room behind you. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Been a minute.” He nods towards the abandoned giant bear.

Your thumb glides over his cheekbone. “Yeah. But I got the next best thing right in front of me.” He smiles with you, pulling you in for an honest kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers, his breath so warm and familiar against your face.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Now close your eyes damnit or I’ll blindfold you next.”

He tuts but obeys. Whatever makes you happy. Who knows, maybe this little face tickling thing will help you fall asleep, and that’s all that truly matters to him—

- - - -

He’s snoring loudly like a grumbling bear, drool trickling out of his mouth and on to his pillow. Nothing is able to stir him awake, not even your little pokes to his puffy cheeks.

Stirring his loins awake, however…

He doesn’t know he’s dreaming, although the site to behold in front of him should be a clear indicator.

Joel stands at the corner of the room, like he always does when he watches you, his little porn star, perform depraved acts on your innocent little plushes. This time was no different.

Except Big Teddy wasn’t under you. He was on top of you. 

And he was fucking.

The bear gripped your sides with his rounded arms, his hips pumping wildly between your legs. You were sprawled out, gorgeous, moaning and tossing your head in ecstasy as the bear absolutely railed you with his—his—

His giant teddy bear cock.

It was massive, filled to the brim with what he can only hope is copious amounts of cotton, and yet the fur on it matched that of the rest of him. Curly and short and fluffy, drenched in your fluids as he plunged back inside your sopping cunt.

“J-J-Jooeeellll,” you whine hoarsely.

Joel opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He has no words. Teddy’s beady eyes turn towards him. It would be creepy were it not for the way he starts fucking you harder, pounding that pussy like his teddy life depended on it.

“oH-OH fuck me Teddy that’s it..right there—yeah-yeah—uughhh fuck me Teddyyyyyyy,” you whimpered, grinning up at the bear. You cradled your arms around his thick, stuffed neck, and he embraced you. You body wrapped around him like a mating press, heels thrusting in the air, Teddy working his massive bear cock in and out of you. He can hear the squelching, like you were dripping and his member was soaking it all up.

It was the most confusing boner Joel had ever had in his life.

He was transfixed by the press of his cotton belly rubbing along your stomach, beefy arms engaging you. You looked so helpless under your big and full-of-life Teddy, yet you clung to him like someone safe and comfortable, much like how you hold on to Joel in that very same position. 

Joel could even tell when you came: your body seizing up, lips agape as your orgasm tore through you. Teddy slowed his pace, rutting into you deep and pausing there so he could feel that pussy spasm around his dick. You finally let out raspy moans, groaning with a smile, pulling Teddy’s big round ears down. And you kissed him. Tongue and open mouthed on his sewn shut string curved into a simple smile, all while your eyes looking hungrily towards Joel. Slitted and aroused in the same way you always look at him when you’ve just squired on any of your other stuffies that Joel talked you through.

And suddenly, words fall from his mouth like natural. “You ain’t done givin’ it to Teddy, yet, are ya baby?” Joel asks rhetorically. “Show Teddy what you can do.”

“I wanna ride it, Teddy,” you rasp at Joel. 

You flip the two of you over, with you now straddling his massive soft tummy. Joel finds himself seated, his cock out and painfully hard in his fist. Teddy lies back, enjoying the view of your sexy body poised above him. 

It was so oddly familiar. Joel had definitely been in that position before.

Teddy had also been in this position many times too. He could practically feel the way you ran your palm flat against his fuzzy chest, fingers sifting through the tufts of hair. Teddy rubbed his—and I cannot stress it enough myself—fingerless paws(?) across the expanse of your thighs before trailing up your waist and onto your tits.

You placed your hands over top his, letting him grope your breasts. “Teddy Bear.” You let out little pants and coos, giggling as you began rocking your hips, working him back inside you.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it babygirl. Show Teddy what that pussy can do.” Joel keeps his eyes poised ahead while he started stroking his member. “How does Teddy feel? Tell him. Tell him what you want.”

You let out a hoarse cry, riding the giant stuffed and lively animal faster. “Fuck Teddy, FUck me right there! I wanna show Teddy a good time, show Teddy what a —ugh—a good fuck I am. Mmmm It feels sooooo good inside. He’s so fucking big. I want Teddy to touch me here—“ You squeeze his paws firmly again over your breasts—“right on my tits while I ride you. I feel so safe with you, Teddy. I want you to put a baby right here—“ 

Teddy’s palm drifts lower until it’s positioned over your belly, and Joel lets out an audible groan.

“Right here Teddy, Wanna be bred with your cubs. Want your cotton filling me up till I’m bursting with your babies—fuck—fuck please—please breed me Teddy!”

Joel pumps his cock faster in the same rhythm that you’re bouncing on top of Teddy. Your thighs strain, tits jumping with each rise and fall of your sweaty body. Eventually you place both arms on Teddy’s chest, trying your best but failing to stay upright as you grind your mound on his fuzzy belly, working yourself tirelessly to release. The fur was sticky and damp with your fluids. Teddy gripped you harder, urging you back and forth, using him to get yourself off. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Joel groans under his breath. The schlick sounds of his fist over his dick can be heard across the room. “Fuck Teddy, FUck your Teddy bear like Daddy fucks you—make him breed you, get ya all round with his cubs—fuck baby you’d look so fucking hot pregnant with Teddy cubs…”

He feels he’s ready to burst any second now. He closes his eyes, leaning back, ready to cum, but when he reopens them, the scene has changed:

It’s like a new day, but Teddy’s fucking you from behind. Your cheeks is pressed into the duvet, ass in the air with Teddy’s paws slapping you, a satisfying smack echoes in time with the way it jiggles. You look a bit—thicker around the hips too. It’s the first thing he noticed, right before you get up on your arms slowly and reveal the very prominent second thing—

Your rounded, pregnant belly settling low. You stare at Joel’s dumbfounded expression, biting your lips with a smirk. “Do you like it, Daddy?”

Teddy wraps a possessive paw around your middle, showcasing your beautiful swollen belly. Your hand reaches behind you to sift through his fuzzy head, his button nose nuzzling your ear as he slowly grinds your ass into him.

“I—I—“ Joel’s panting really hard. He hasn’t blinked in what feels like forever. He may have thought about what you would look pregnant, but he’d never actually been able to put an image to it until he dreamed about Teddy getting you there.

Your tits swayed with each pound too, the weight of your new body forcing each pounce to have a slow reaction. 

You looked fucking amazing.

“Teddy filled ya with his cotton, did he?” Joel got up from his chair, his hand never leaving his aching member. “He get ya filled with those cubs?” 

You nod with a giggle. “Feel it, baby.” dragging his hand to your belly, Joel instinctually splays his wide palm and fingers over the heft.

“Fuck me,” he hums, amazed. He was expecting a squishy feel to it, genuinely thinking Teddy had just filled you with cotton, but instead it was hard and heavy.

“How many cubs do ya think you got in there?”

You bring your hand down to Joel’s cock, replacing his to start jerking him softly. He lets out an audible whimper. 

“I don’t know. Teddy stuffed me so full.” 

The Bear continues to pound your ass, but your attention was entirely on Joel Miller’s blazing erection.

“Say it again,” he growls, thrusting into your hands.

“Teddy bred me, Daddy.”

“Again.”

“Filled me with his cotton, knocked me up with his baby cubs—“

“Again!”

“I’m so fucking full of babies, Joel, feels like I’m gonna burst any minute—Teddy filled me with his love, I love Teddy so much daddy fuck—!”

Joel grips the back of your head and pulls you, smashing his lips onto you. He shutters all over before releasing his load, hot, sticky and blindingly good all over your swollen belly and tits. You keep stroking him, forcing him to give it all, making a white ropey mess over your beautiful body. “Fuck-fuck baby you’re so fucking hot, getting bred by Daddy’s Teddy—Daddy gave him to ya, didn’t I? Yeah—fuck babygirl fuck, knew you’d be perfect like this—!“

“JOEL MILLER!!!!”

He lets out a sudden snort, eyes fluttering open. He feels his senses come back to him: your body pressed snugly against his chest, his cock nudged between your thighs, ass hugging his balls. He has his arms wrapped around your front, caging you against him. You’re both sweating, hot and wet especially under the covers. The outline of your shoulder comes into focus, and there’s Teddy sitting lifeless in the corner still.

“W-what…?” He blinks a few times, his hold on you not letting up. He can still feel the aftermath of that glowing orgasm, his dick pulsing against your sopping pussy.

You let out a sigh. So he definitely was sleeping through it all: the humping against your ass, mumbling words and moans, then grasping your body right against him in a frenzied fuck fest. You’d thought he was gonna squeeze the air out of you. No matter what you tried, he wouldn’t get out of this trance, and started sliding his leaking cock between your legs. You were too confused and even more so aroused to be able to really put up a fight. Pumping in and out of your wet folds with desperation. It wasn’t until he was splashing his cum on your thighs, and you falling prey to your own orgasm that you heard him distinctly murmur something about your ‘pregnant Teddy cub belly’ that you had finally given up all decency and screamed, forcing him to wake.

“What…the fuck…were you dreaming about???”

- - - -

Ok found Original content i wrote!:

Based on @survivingandenduring 's wonderful find:

-----

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @romanarose

[daisymbin]

more blackmail material? - choi seungcheol

read pt1 first: look at me!

warnings: none i think?

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader (use of she)

genre: friends to lovers~

wc: 2.2k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

you wake up to the familiar weight of seungcheol’s hand clutching yours tightly; that being the only part of your body that feels comfy. your back hurts & your legs are numb. you had fallen asleep while sitting on the floor by the bed, holding his hand. you look over to him, his brows furrow slightly as he mumbles something intangible as you tried to escape his grasp, and your heart squeezes at the sight. for a moment, you wonder what he’s dreaming about, his expression so peaceful yet intense.

his hair tousled and his expression adorable. a small smile tugs at your lips as you take in the sight of him, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection.

you gently try to pry his hand on yours, but that was proven difficult when seungcheol unconsciously tightens his hold. after a good 10 minutes of trying, you managed to get him to let go, careful not to wake him, and make your way to the kitchen. the apartment is still, save for the soft sounds of the world outside waking up. as you prepare a light breakfast, your mind races with thoughts of what to say when seungcheol wakes up. would he remember anything? would he regret his words?

your heart races at the thought. just as you’re pouring a glass of apple juice, the soft sound of shuffling interrupts your thoughts. you turn to see seungcheol standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed and slightly disheveled, his hair in all sorts of direction but with a small smile on his face that sends a flutter through your chest.

“morning,” he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“morning,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, despite the weight of what’s unsaid hanging in the air.

he rubs his eyes, stepping further into the kitchen. “what time is it?”

“almost 11,” you tell him, watching as he yawns and stretches, the sight somehow both adorable and mesmerizing.

“11?” he echoes, clearly surprised. “how did I sleep so long?”

you chuckle softly, knowing the answer. “you were pretty tired from all that dancing and… other activities last night.”

the blush creeping across his cheeks is immediate, and he glances down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “did I… say anything embarrassing?”

you hesitate, a wave of uncertainty & disappointment washing over you. you see the sincerity in his eyes, and despite the urge to tell him the truth, you weren't sure if its something he had meant to let out, or if he even meant it. maybe he was just…drunk? or maybe he'll come to remember it in a few hours? “no, not really,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

he seems to relax at your words, though a shadow of confusion still lingers in his expression. “thank god. I was worried I made a fool of myself or said something I shouldn't have.”

just then, his phone buzzes loudly on the table, interrupting the moment. he glances at it, his brow furrowing. “it’s jihoon. he wants me to come help with something.”

“now?” you ask, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought of losing this moment.

“yeah, I should probably go,” he says, though he seems reluctant to leave. “but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“sure,” you reply, trying to hide your disappointment. “just…be safe. drink lots of water, you need it.”

“i will.” he promises, a soft smile on his lips before he grabs his things and heads out the door.

as soon as he’s gone, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. what now? you wonder, glancing at your phone and deciding to take a break from it all. you text seungkwan to see if he wants to grab brunch.

when you meet seungkwan at your favorite café, he immediately senses something is off. “so, what happened after you sent seungcheol home?” he asks, leaning in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “did anything…happen last night? did you guys talk it out this morning?”

you shake your head, stirring your latte absently with a sigh. “he doesn’t remember anything, he asked if he said anything stupid last night & I just told him no.”

“he doesn’t remember?” seungkwan looks flabbergasted. “are you serious?”

“sadly, yeah.” you reply, feeling a bit defeated. “I thought he would, but I guess not.”

“that’s not good,” seungkwan muttered softly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “shall we have have some cake? the red velvet from here is really good, i’ll go order one.”

before you can even answer him, seungkwan already got up, he subtly pulls out his phone and steps away. “just a sec, I’ll be right back,” he says, heading towards the counter of the café.

“since when did you like red velvet?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, but he waves you off with a laugh. “oh, you know.. just the one they have here is good so….” he replies. you can sense he’s hiding something but you dont ask

—

jeonghan wastes no time. after receiving a few messages from an exasperated seungkwan, he heads straight to jihoon's place, excitement & mischief pulsing through him. he arrives, knocking briskly on the door until jihoon opens it, looking surprised to see him.

“jeonghan? what’s up?” jihoon asks, stepping aside to let him in.

“where’s seungcheol?” jeonghan demands, scanning the room until he spots him lounging on the couch, looking rather confused.

“he’s right here. what’s going on?” jihoon asks, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

jeonghan strides over to seungcheol, a teasing grin on his face. “shouldn’t you be taking your girlfriend, no, future mrs choi on a date right now? why are you here with jihoon?”

seungcheol blinks, utterly bewildered. “what are you talking about, jeonghan? I don’t-”

“you don’t what?” jeonghan cuts him off, pulling out his phone. “you don’t remember what you did last night? what you said?”

seungcheol’s expression shifts to confusion, and he rubs the back of his neck, trying to recall the events of the night. “what do you mean? did I do or say something embarrassing?”

with a smirk, jeonghan taps on the video he recorded the night before. he hadn't planned on pulling out his stored blackmail material so soon but thank god he recorded it.

as he hits play, seungcheol’s eyes widen, watching himself stand on the table whining about all the other boys you paid attention to instead of him, followed quickly by a tipsy grin plastered on his face as he confesses his undying love for you.

“what..what is this?” he exclaims, staring at the screen, the realization dawning on him.

“you confessing, you idiot,” jeonghan says, barely holding back laughter. “you were all mushy and everything!”

jihoon, who had been completely unaware of the events from the night before having stayed home, watches the video together, mouth agape. “wait, he really did that?”

“yoon jeonghan did you use A.I to fabricate this or something? there's no way I did that. I wouldn't….” seungcheol tries to push it onto jeonghan, trying to deny reality.

“really? you wouldn't? you think the chances of me using A.I is higher than you drunkardly confessing whilst standing on a table in a club?” jeonghan asked as he tried to hold back his laugher.

jihoon steps closer as he says, “honestly the A.I sounds more believable, you pull stupid pranks all the time, i wouldnt be surprised, but then again….if it's really A.I and it isn't real then thats kinda… nah. yoon jeonghan wouldnt joke about something like this. yup, looks real to me.” jihoon finishes as he pats seungcheol on his back.

jeonghan, seeing as seungcheol still doesn't believe him, pulls out his messaging app, opening his chat with seungkwan, “it's not A.I you idiots, who do you think i am? i love a good prank but this A.I shit is too much work, i dont have enough energy for that. here.” jeonghan then slides his phone over to seungcheol, messages from seungkwan earlier in its full glory.

roommate boo 🍊:

[12:17 PM] I can't believe that idiot can't remember what he did last night!!! hyung, do something!!!

[12:19 PM] I thought he lost his mind when he stood on that table crying over her last night BUT NO, NOW he's lost his mind! i thought some sense finally went into that head of his, how can he forget???

[12:22 PM] hyung!! do something! this isn't right and it's not fair to her! she looks so sad!!!!! show him that video you recorded last night!!!! 😡

“yup,” jeonghan says, enjoying seungcheol's mortification. “and now you can’t just let it slide. you need to talk to her and make this right. tell me, was she still in your apartment this morning?” he asked as he folded his arms. at a small nod of seungcheol’s head, jeonghan continued “that silly girl. I texted her to come down after putting you to bed, i even offered to send her home but she was worried about you and said she'd stay. how could you forget?”

seungcheol feels a rush of embarrassment & guilt flood through him as he stares at the screen which now shows jeonghan's text from you. “I can’t believe I did that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “and I can't believe I forgot…did she..does she-”

“does she like you?” jeonghan finishes for him, “you're such an idiot. for someone who claims to be looking at the love of their life all the time, you sure are blind for not seeing how she looks at you just as much.” jeonghan says with a satisfied smile on his face. “you owe her a real date after that confession.”

“and an apology.” jihoon added.

“i thought she’d tell me if i’d done something like that, but she didn’t. maybe she’s just… sparing me from rejection.”

jeonghan scoffed. “please, she looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky last night. she’s probably overthinking, just like you are.”

seungcheol lets out a sigh he didnt know he was holding, his resolve building as he processes everything. “I need to find her.” jihoon could only smirking at his friend’s flustered state.

—

after brainstorming with jeonghan and jihoon, seungcheol decided on a plan. he’d cook your favorite, miyeok guk (yall remember cooks coups? lmao) it wasn’t just for birthdays, after all, and he knew you'd appreciate the thought. jeonghan offered to help, though he teased relentlessly about how much was riding on this meal.

it was almost doomed when seungcheol managed to burn the soup, the kitchen filling with a slightly charred smell as he looked on in horror. jeonghan swooped in, shaking his head with an exasperated grin. “good thing i’m here,” he muttered, salvaging the meal with a few choice spices and a lot of patience.

once the miyeok guk was safely simmering, seungcheol added a few finishing touches around his apartment: candles with her favorite scent, a small bouquet of her favorite flowers, and warm lighting that made the whole room feel like a cozy haven.

finally, he texted you, saying he needed help with something. you arrived, clueless, expecting a favor and absolutely not prepared for the sight of him standing there, nerves showing slightly as he shifted from foot to foot.

before you could ask, he cleared his throat. “so… about last night…”

you froze, realizing he might remember. “last night?”

he gave a small, uncertain smile, looking at you with a soft intensity. “i know you didn’t say anything, but… jeonghan showed me the video. i just… i thought maybe you didn’t tell me because… maybe you don’t feel the same, and you were trying to save me from that.”

you stared at him, heart racing. “no, i… i thought you might regret it,” you admitted softly, glancing down. “i didn’t want to bring it up if… if it was something you didn’t mean.”

seungcheol stepped closer, reaching out to gently lift your chin so you’d meet his gaze. “i meant every word,” he murmured. “and this time, i want to say it sober; knowing exactly what i’m saying. i like you… so much. and if you’ll let me, i’d like to take you on a real date.”

a smile spread across your face as you let his words sink in. “then… i’d like that, too,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

the uncertainty melted from his expression, replaced by a soft warmth. reaching out, he took your hand in his, holding it as if it were something precious. he chuckled softly, still a little shy. “so, um… how about some miyeok guk? i might’ve had a bit of help from jeonghan, but it’s your favorite.” he refused to let you know about how he had actually burnt it & jeonghan had salvaged it. but little did he know, jeonghan had been recording his friend again when he was panicking & making a mess of the kitchen while whining, more blackmail material perhaps?

“i’d love that,” you replied, heart swelling at the gesture.

as you both sat down, laughing together over the slightly imperfect soup, you felt a contentment settle in, the kind that only came from being exactly where you were meant to be, with exactly the person you were meant to be with.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Ellie Williams Masterlist (1)

main masterlist

about me!

2nd masterlist

Stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

- look at us now: Caught between a turbulent past with Ellie and a slowly blossoming future with Abby, you're forced to confront everything you thought you knew about love, loyalty, and healing.

- under her desk: You're her secretary—organized, polite, and always on time. She's the boss—cold, brilliant, and merciless. But every glance from Ellie lingers too long. Every touch burns. And every closed-door meeting gets harder to forget.

- to be near you: Ellie was quiet at first, just watching from the background — protective, helpful, always there. But her interest wasn’t harmless. What began as care turned into control, and slowly, you realized she was never going to let you go. Even when you stopped fighting, her obsession only grew stronger.

- the things we do in the dark: A late-night confession turns into something neither of you can take back. In the quiet moments between guilt and longing, you and Ellie finds yourself crossing a line — again and again — in the shadows of a relationship that was never meant to be theirs.

- don't take her from me: Ellie’s always had control—until someone threatens to take the one person she can’t live without

- she: When Ellie starts watching her a little too closely, it’s hard to tell where curiosity ends and obsession begins. What begins as quiet glances and subtle tension quickly turns into something darker—something neither of them fully understands, but both feel deeply.

- when the quiet breaks: Ellie Williams is living a peaceful life on the farmhouse with you—the woman who convinced her not to chase revenge. For a while, things feel almost perfect. But the past never stays buried.

- save your tears: Ellie Williams never wanted commitment. When you first tangled in each other’s sheets, it was her rules: casual, no strings, no complications. You agreed—half-heartedly. But feelings grew in the silence between skin and shadows.

- girlfriend: In a broken world, Ellie Williams becomes the one constant — protective, intense, and impossible to ignore. Their bond is complicated, but it’s all they have.

- drunk texting: After a night of drinking, a risky text is sent to Ellie — one that unravels buried feelings and turns their dynamic upside down.

- high enough: in which you wanted her

- your best friend: in which you wished she wasn't dating your best friend

- knee deep: in which ellie wanted you back

- sports car: in which she took you for a ride

- beneath the mask: in which she saved you

- one step forward, three steps back: In which your relationship always put you 3 steps back

- crimson days: in which she needed comfort

- quiet room: in which you needed comfort

- the cut that always bleeds: in which she left you bleeding

- Split ends: in which you needed help

- drunk words, sober eyes: in which you confessed

- planets: in which you went on a date

- latch: in which you were trapped

- frostbite: in which you shared a special moment with her

- losing sleep: in which you hated her

- dark red: in which she wanted you to herself

- wash day: in which she helps you with your hair

- rose: in which she cant forget you

- comfort: in which she helped you

- bubblegum: in which you fell in love

- I was all over her: in which she wanted to be all over you

- do you still dream of me?: In which you still dream about her

- laundry: In which you didn't fold the laundry

- bad dog: in which you treated her like a bad dog

- pretty girl: in which she showed her girl how pretty she really is

- mary (angst edition): in which you left her to rot

- things to do: In which they got their happily ever after

- satisfied: in which you were the perfect housewife

- in my feelings (angst edition): In which you fell for a loser

- dye it red: In which you dyed your hair red

- ultraviolence: In which she became the person, you've always wanted

- karma: In which you were her downfall

- twilight: In which you couldn't win Ellie's heart

- window: In which Ellie Williams made a big mistake

- in my feelings: In which you showed a loser, a great time

- mary (mental illness edition): In which Ellie wrote you a song.

- brooklyn baby: In which you were dating the world-famous Ellie Williams

- laugh it off: In which Ellie tries to fix your relationship after she was unfaithful

- cool about it: if Ellie couldn't have you, she'd make sure no one else ever will.

- she calls me daddy: You might be engaged but you still always go back to Ellie

- petals on the moon: In which Ellie regrets her decision

- night shift: In which you were the other women

- everybody here wants you: In which you fell in love with someone you couldn't have

- emily i'm sorry: In which Ellie is fucking crazy

- limit to your love: In which you got your heart broken

- I'm not a mountain: In which Ellie makes stupid decisions

- one night only: Ellie wanted needed to see you, but little did she know the one night she wanted to spend with you, would be her final night

- fake it: You and Ellie reminisce on how the two of you got together

- together: Your relationship was toxic, you both knew this... but yet both of you couldn't stay away from each other

- in hell: in which ellie had a taste of what hell felt like

- waste my time: Ellie questions if you really love her or if you were just using her to clean up your mess

- poision: Ellie knows your relationship is toxic, but she can’t help but go back to you.

- nobody; Ellie's biggest fear becomes a reality...

- is there someone else? All Ellie wanted was for you to forgive her

- infatuated: In which Ellie’s “small crush” turned into an obsession

- all the girls you've loved before: Two lost girls, finally found what they've been looking for in each other

- forever: What’s the point of living, if you aren’t by her side?

- moonlight : In which ellie gets high with her lover

series˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

scream for me: In which not killing the pretty girl was the best mistake she ever made

part 1 part 2 part 3

Therefore, you and me: All you needed was Ellie

part 1 part 2 part 3

Her Sweet girl: in which you had enough

part 1 part 2

Loser Ellie

part 1 part 2

Professor Ellie

professor ellie masterlist

Brothers best friend Ellie

part 1 part 2

drabbles, hcs and short stories˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

ellie taking care of sick reader (hcs)

toxic ellie (hcs)

douchebag ellie (hcs)

ellie warming you up (ss)

ellie saying you're a piece of art (ss)

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

I didn't know how much I needed to write this until you requested traveler 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Also yes! Ted's the name I use to write Horror (the one of the bad sanses.)

Featuring:Killer, Dust and Horror

Trigger warning: mentions of sexual content, swears, mentions of crimes and criminal cases.

Masterlist

Congratulations traveler, you are now dating three of the most dangerous serial killers in all the multiverse.

You're definitely not living in Nightmare's castle, nuh uh, it's not like he doesn't like you, it's just that your positive feelings may let Dream find the castle easily.Plus he doesn't want to hear you get banged by his subjects.

Every night it's a problem, Dust and Ted don't really mind sleeping together with you, but Killer? He bothers them until he can get you all to himself.

Which doesn't really work 90% of the time, as Ted is big enough to simply hold both Dust and you at the same time, leaving Killer to hug whatever side of your body is to his reach.

The times it does work though, it's usually when Ted and Dust are stressed out because of something, most of the time missions, they simply make Killer sleep on the couch while they sleep with you, sometimes even make him hear your moans as they senseless fuck you.

If you ever find yourself sick, worry not! Because Ted's hands don't know only how to smash skulls, they also do wonderful soup! Dust's going out to buy you the medicine you need, and Killer? Well he's cuddling you on the couch while watching some random criminal case Dust put on the TV.

Killer has a LOT of cats, like 8 in total, so I really hope you aren't allergic..

Be prepared for them to come home covered in blood and Killer running up to you, screaming how much he missed you as you think about how another of your favorite shirts is going to the washing machine because of him.

They take very precise turns cuddling you, the moment the time ends the other's already in front of you.

Dust usually gets really mad with Killer when he tries to find ANY excuse to have more time, especially when you're sleeping. "I want to get up, but they're just sooooooo comfortable here with me!".

"CABRON ES MI TURNO, DESAPARECE!!"

Ted's the one who ends their stupid discussion as he grabs and cuddles you, leaving both skeletons with their mouths open.

"Will... You two... Shut up.... Now..?"

Talking about Ted, you and him often cook together! You know, like a romantic date! Only you and him...except Dust and Killer are arguing in the background.

You snuggled against Killer's chest as he covered your head with the blanket while hugging your waist and kissing your forehead, seeing your eyes close to rest.

"Sleepy now are we, (____)..? Is your headache getting better..?"

He says, his hands brush your hair as you slowly nod. Suddenly he hears Dust's voice.

"Oh vagabundo, levántate, es mi turno."

"C'mon hood man, can't you see they're comfortable with me?"

"I don't care, it's my turn now, get the fuck up and let me cuddle them."

Killer moves so your head is laying on his lap and looks up at Dust.

"And what if I don't huh? What are you gonna do?"

He rests his arm on the armchair of the couch. Dust looks at him furiously, closing his fists as he watches Killer form a sly smile.

"Listen here you-"

The two start arguing loudly, attracting Ted's attention, who just got out of the shower and saw you press your hands to your ears, trying to muffle the noise. Ted signs and approaches you quietly, he grabs you and walks away to your room, he's gonna make sure you rest far away from any type of noisy fuss.

"...Good night.... Darling.."

[jinmindeulle]

tributes | lee jihoon

“You’re sleepy,” Jihoon whispered, his voice muffled against your hair “We need to rest”

“I don’t want to” you mumbled, and you kept on fighting with your burning, dry eyes to stay awake — to stay conscious of how Jihoon’s warmth embraced you, how his fingers danced on the skin of your back, how he pressed sweet kisses to your forehead from time to time. 

“We’ll make it” 

You nodded, but the way in which your eyes watered told you you really didn’t feel the same as he did. You weren’t sure about making it, much less of making it together. Not many had done it before in your District.

“People in the Capitol love us already. We have them on our side.”

“Why does that matter? I can barely manage with a crossbow, Jihoon. How am I gonna protect us from this shitshow?”

“You just have to survive,” he released you from his grip, bringing his already calloused hands to your cheeks, pressing your forehead against his “I’ll take care of us. The only thing that’ll kill me is losing you”

When both of your names were called that dry morning, you prayed whatever was above that someone offered himself as tribute in your boyfriend’s place. Of course, that would never happen. Who in his right mind would do that? 

It had to be a joke, a very sick joke — but it felt so very real when Jihoon stood next to you, facing the crowd of young boys and girls whose fate had been by their side, and both of your overwhelmed families who yelled your names as if that would bring you back to them.  

“Johanna trusts us. That’s a lot coming from her.” Jihoon tried to reassure you, placing hope in your mentor, who was the bravest woman you had ever met. 

“Promise me,” you began, but you saw how Jihoon shook his head before even continuing.

“I won’t promise anything that involves me saving myself and not you. Or leaving you behind.”

“But-”

“Would you do that to me?”

When you shook your head, hot tears went down your cheeks, and Jihoon made sure to wash them away with his fingers. “We win together. We lose together.” 

“I love you.” You cried, and you let out days and days of accumulated grief, of self-doubt, of guilt. 

“I love you,” Jihoon embraced you again, whispering those three words until your breath felt calmer, easier. “I can’t promise many things now. But if we get out of this, our life will be full of joy and love. I’ll marry you and give you a proper home. We’ll make love every night and eat warm food every day. Just hang on to that, honey.”

   So when you finally closed your eyes, you could only dream of the only possible scenario that would make Jihoon’s words a reality— winning the 73th Hunger Games together.

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

[sexy-monster-fucker]

To See If I Can Catch a Dream

Dr. Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

Story Synopsis: Reader is a Doctor alongside House. They have known each other for years, mostly been dancing around being intimate with one another. Even though it is painfully obvious to their close friend, Wilson. After finally allowing their guards to fall, the Reader receives a letter inviting her for her dream position at her dream hospital. She has to make the hard choice of staying or going. angst/smut/nsfw/new relationships/minor fluff/typical hospital talk/situationship/

Summary/Part 5: Reader has made her mind up. Heading out to Boston for the conference that would welcome her as the new Head of Neurology.

CW: vomit/vomiting, blood, form of self harm, mentions of OD, implied disordered eating, substance abuse, backstory baby!, ANGST ANGST ANGST, mentions of motherhood/wanting kids,

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 <-

a/n: sorry if the timeline conflicts with anything canon in House, I kept finding different information about how long before the first season of the show that House had his leg injury. also I was so seriously tempted to make an entire playlist based off this fanfic, I’m so obsessed with their love story.

title track 🎶🩶

~~~

You hunched over the toilet in your bathroom. Unable to sleep. Rest a distant relative of yours. The paper crinkled under your grasp. Rereading it again and again.

Boston Children’s Hospital.

You threw up again. Spilling your guts into the porcelain bowl. Overwhelmed with anxieties from the fight you had with House. Mentally punishing yourself for everything. Manifesting as your upchucked stomach. Beating yourself up for allowing House to speak to you that way. For letting him have such a strong hold on your well-being. Punching the tile beneath you as you screamed. Loud enough you were sure the neighbors heard you. Knuckles bleeding from your repetitive assault. Tugging at your hair as you sobbed hard. Heartbreak never having such a strong toll over you before. Resting your cheek against the disgusting toilet seat, staining it with your tears. Not caring about the germ count.

Sliding into the floor. Clutching the paper flat against your chest. Staring up at the bright lights of your ceiling. Squinting at the harsh glare. Groaning now that your stomach was completely empty and your whole body ached. Praying to a God who went against everything you knew. Praying that House was not relapsing. Over-dosing on Vicodin and booze. Reaching for your phone you had discarded on the floor, typing out a simple message.

“I love you.” You stared at it. The words loosing all meaning the longer you looked that them. Dropping the flip phone against your face. Closing your eyes to block out the soft glow of the screen. Opting out of sending the message. It would do more harm than good.

You knew that.

~~~

You got yourself put together early. Taking a shower to wash away the night of regrets. Steaming room helping free the mucus from the obscene about of crying you had done. Using your favorite shampoo and soap. The ones you usually saved for a date or special occasion. Needing a confidence boost wherever you could get one.

A cloud of dread loomed over you as you checked yourself in the mirror. Bags under your eyes more defined from the lack of sleep. Putting on makeup for the first time in a while. Giving yourself a moment to close your eyes and breathe before stepping out the door to head to work.

The invariable hospital greeted you as always. Unforgiving and not allowing time to suffer. It was your job to help others not suffer, a fine distraction from any personal matters.

Forcing smiles at each colleague you passed. Hiding any sign of distress. Taking the stares, avoiding any risk of running into House. Making sure you would do everything to stay away from him today. Knowing you could not face him now. Any semblance of control you had would come crashing down the minute you would meet his sad eyes.

Marching into Cuddy’s office as quickly as you could. Surprising her. You were always an adequate doctor. Rule follower and no trouble, unlike your estranged lover.

“Y/L/N?”

“I need to talk to you,” you sighed, hand reaching inside your lab coat. Pulling out the letter that had been extended to you earlier this week. Handing it to her with a certain sadness behind your eyes. Swallowing down your broken voice.

“What is this?”

“My invitation from Boston Children’s Hospital. They sent a representative to speak to me earlier this week. Inviting me to join their team and become the head of their Neurology department,” you breathed out.

“That’s incredible,” Cuddy said with a smile, “That’s— wow, that’s your dream job.” You and Cuddy were never overtly close. But she was someone you confided in. Another woman who could understand you differently than your male friends. Sharing secrets with her that seemed too childish to share with others. And so, out of respect for her and the hospital, you thought it was better to present this to her instead of just disappearing as you usually would. Finally taking responsibility for that.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled, frown tugging you down.

“It’s going to be hard to fill the position. No one has ever been a stronger candidate,” Cuddy smiled. Sensing the solemn nature of your resignation. Unable to look her in the eyes as you stared down at your feet.

“I’ve got an idea,” Cuddy started, voice steady as she smiled at you.

Finally earning herself a glance from your sad eyes.

“How about you go to the conference they’re hosting. And if you decide that Boston is what you want, you go there. But, if it doesn’t end up being what you want, I will keep the position open for you here,” Cuddy stood with hands flattened against her desk to prove her point.

“Lisa, I can’t ask you to do that,” you sighed, not wanting special treatment or pity.

“I want to. We would be taking a serious blow in our neurology department without you here. But I’ll be happy for you either way,” she circled, coming to stand directly in front of you. Hand resting against your arm trying to console you. Unspoken realization that things must not have went over well when you told your former partner. Cuddy knew House well, seeing a serious change in him since the two of you started seeing each other. She pretended to not notice the brand new ring on your finger. Beautifully twinkling from the sunlight that beamed through her blinds. Able to put all the pieces together of the circumstances in which you brought this to her.

House had came to here earlier this month. Asking some vague questions about the legality of marrying a fellow doctor in the hospital. Pretending he had no ulterior motive, throwing blame on Wilson. He just ‘wanted to make sure no one needed to resign if that was to happen’. She had rolled her eyes knowing exactly what he was meaning. Congratulating him. House had grumbled and scoffed as he waved her off. Exiting her office with the veins on his head pulsing.

Cuddy suddenly hugged you. Firm. Hand on the back of your head as she sighed. You needed this more than she could have imagined. Stomach flipping with your overwhelming emotions. Tears deciding to wade in your eyes again. Sniffling as she pulled away, awkwardly laughing as you looked at her. Exhaustion clear on your breath. “Thank you, Lisa,” you met her eyes.

“It’ll all work out, Y/N,” she reassured. A good friend. Knowing how to console you when necessary. You were thankful for her.

Continuing your day as if nothing was wrong. You were a Doctor for gods sake. Analyzing scan after scan. Brains and spines of all varieties. From newborns to elderly. Pediatrics was your speciality, but that did not stop you from helping people of all ages. Giving some harsher diagnosis than you wanted today, having to control your breathing as to not show weakness to the family. You had to be strong. You were the one who was going to help them. Life of their sickly child now in your hands.

Unsure where the entire had gone off to. Darkness crept across your walls. Simply, amber glow of your lamp was all you had. Having locked yourself away from any other physicians all day. Needing to clear your head and focus on work.

Frustrated when a gentle knock sounded from your door. Teeth gritted as you called out, “Come in.”

Wilson’s frame shadowed in front of the hallway lights. Causing you to stiffen your posture and fold your hands over your lap. Lip quivering as you attempted to catch your breath. Not expecting to see your alienated lover’s best friend. Sometimes you forgot he was your friend too.

Burnt coffee eyes lasered into you. Entering and closing the door behind him. Trying to conjure up a starting sentence. Subject sensitive. More so than you normally discussed. He exhaled loudly.

“Did you come to gloat?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Waterworks immediately flowed. Breath forcing itself out in broken rhythm. Mouth immediately stretching into a frown, followed by a loud sob. Hand cupping your mouth as you squinted your eyes closed. Fingers digging into your cheek. Shoulders heaving with every strangled sob.

Wilson moved on instinct. Kneeling beside you at your desk. One hand on your thigh and the other pushing your hair out of your face. Empathetic eyes scanned you, wishing he could have avoided all of this. Wishing he could have prevented this heartbreak for you. You were his friend. It hurt him to see you hurt.

He pushed himself up to hold you. Head resting against yours. Allowing you to expel every cry, whimper, or sob into his chest. Your body was shaking. Hands bawling his shirt in front of you. Wrinkling the soft blue cotton. Staining it with smudged mascara and lipstick.

“It hurts, James,” you cried pathetically. Clutching him to you.

“I know. I know, honey. I’m… so sorry,” Wilson repeated. He was bad at this. At consoling you. Intimacy something he was only good at faking with women he was going to sleep with. Good at pleasing others. But how could he please you right now? There was no real cure for a broken heart.

This would have to be good enough.

And it was. All you needed was someone to hold you. Understand you. Sympathize with you. Wilson’s warmth encapsulated you. Emptying every drop of pain into him.

“I love him,” you whispered, breathing flattening out. Letting up on your grip on your close friend. Resting your head in the crook of his neck against his shoulder. Nose framing his throat. Warm tears dropping along his collar.

Wilson tenderly kissed your head. There was only so much he could do for you, but he would be damned if he did not try. Despite you ignoring his warning. Despite all the times you had grown angry at him. Despite that you had been spending more time away from him. You were one of his best friends. He would do this for you if this is what would help.

You remained in his arms for quite some time. Letting it all out. The only way you knew how. Thanking Wilson for everything.

Parting ways with the unforgiving walls of the hospital. Being welcomed home by a quiet room. Previously alive with duets and coordinated dance routines, now dull and rhythmless. The mixture of your lives haunted every surface. Candy he had left on the counter, discarded clothes that assumed he would come back for them, his toothbrush contained next to yours. Worst of all, the indent in your bed from his body. Now cold and hollow. Pillow still smelling like his shampoo.

Nausea now a convivial partner. Not having the strength to force yourself out of bed. Porcelain bowl’s siren call a temptress. Small amount of food digested in your stomach preparing for their reunion.

It was not worth it.

~~~

Another two weeks passed. Conference in Boston narrowing in on your calendar. Bags already packed and laid beside your bed. Coming to terms with the real possibility of a new beginning.

Somehow, still avoiding House. Knowing he was doing the same. Opting for other neurologists to run tests for him. Anything to not lay eyes on you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Metallic taste overwhelming your buds as you dissected the folder before you. Stumped. Normally, you would ask House and his Team.

Your ego refused to face him.

But that did not mean you could not use the diagnostic team.

You parted your blinds into the busy hallway with two fingers. Only your eyes visible from the outside. Scanning the bodies that filled the hall. Waiting to pounce on the first one of House’s little minions that you spotted.

Bingo.

Creaking your door open. “Psst—“ you called out to the young doctor. His eyes peering to the side, acting like he did not see you. Trying to assess the situation, assuming the query was not directed at him. “Doctor Foreman,” you said with a whisper tone, albeit above a whisper. He looked around confused. Pointing to himself with a raise of a brow. You nodded, gesturing him to come to you.

Foreman shook his head in disagreement, motioning towards the folder already in his hand. You stomped your foot and pointed directly in front of you. Brows arching to silently show how serious you were. Sighing loudly as he solemnly walked over to you.

“You know, this got guy’s killed in war-times. Talking to the enemy,” Foreman smirked, leaning against your doorway.

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest, pointing your conjoined fingers at him, “I need you to do me a favor.”

His arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest. Sass dripping clean off him as his head fell to the side. Sucking his teeth as he looked around to make sure there were no cane wielding doctors nearby.

Reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out the case file, “I need you to take this patient folder. Take it to your team and see if you guys can figure out what’s going on. I’ve ran every test under the sun and can’t understand what I’m seeing. BUT— and this is the important part— you canNOT under ANY circumstances tell House this is for me.”

Foreman clicked his tongue. Rolling his eyes. Widening yours and wringing your hands in front of him, “Please.”

He blew his breath out, allowing his head to fall forward. Fully aware of the drama going on between the two of you. How could he not be? House brought it up at every turn. Angrier than he ever had been before. Extending his hand out to accept your offering. You beamed with glee.

“Just so you know,” he pointed with the filing folder, “This is petty.”

“Thank you, Foreman!” You waved him off. Earning a flick of his wrist in response. Finally feeling a sense of relief that you would possibly get an answer. Retreating into your cave. It would take them some time to run through every possibility. So now you could begin the new stack that had collected throughout the day.

It was easy to lose track of time when you were buried in paperwork. Only having time to eat lunch in Cuddy’s office with her. Suggested that you and some of the other doctors go out for drinks tonight. It was only a week until you would be leaving for Boston, so she wanted to treat you. Happy to oblige, anything for you to not be alone.

Staying late, something that happened more often than not. Telling Cuddy to come get you when she was ready to head out. Back to the door as you knelt in front of a filing cabinet. Fingers lacing through every filing folder looking for an older case file. One you hoped would help explain your current one.

Quick knocks against the wood of your door caught your attention. Assuming it was Lisa, not paying attention as you called out, “I’ll be right out.” Zoning out the sound of, what you assumed to be shoes, clicking against your floor.

Abrupt slamming of a hand on your desk made you jump up. Rising above your place on the floor and meeting angry, blue eyes. Air hitching itself in your throat. Heart immediately ramming into your ribcage.

“Next time you want to send me some absurd patient, call me yourself. Don’t rope my team into your dirty work,” House bared his teeth at you.

The first time you had seen him since your fight. Time freezing for you. Taking in every small detail of him. Scruff closer resembling a beard more than ever before. Neglecting trimming the prickly hairs. Something you had began doing together. Bags under his eyes heavier, bloodshot sclera matching your own. Cheeks sunken in and thinner. Not noticeable to the average eye, but when you had him memorized as well as you did it was obvious. Shirt half unbuttoned and wrinkled.

You stared slack-jawed. Fighting the delusion that this was fake. An illusion made up to comfort you. Eyes growing glossy. He was within touching distance. You wanted to spring up and wrap him in your arms. Kiss him and tell him how much you missed him.

“Close your mouth. You’re going to catch a fly,” House scoffed. Eyes rolling aggressively.

Your brows furrowed. Being reminded why this would have never worked to begin with. Jolting away from his piercing eyes. Jaw flexing as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eyes drying out.

Taking the folder he had tossed haphazardly on your desk, “Did you figure anything out?”

“Of course I did,” his face scrunched up, offended. Angry that you would even ask such a stupid question. Mocking his intelligence in such a way.

You widened your eyes and nodded, “Okay…?”

“It’s MS,” he groaned like you were stupid for not knowing.

“No,” you shook your head in disagreement, “I tested for that. The lesions are from a prior head injury. He said all this pain started when he got hit the other day playing soccer.”

House nodded, “Uh-huh. That doesn’t explain the small white spot right at the base of his skull. His white blood cell count is through the roof. Persistent tingling sensation down the left side of his body. Black spot obscuring his vision, but no signs of corneal damage. It’s practically screaming ‘multiple sclerosis!’ at you.” House’s tone was riddled with condescension. Matter-of-factly correcting your misdiagnosis.

“Right,” you exhaled, trailing off. Frustrated that you had not put the pieces together yourself. Knowing this boy would have to go through some serious trial work for the next few months before he could even start treatment. All signs pointed to multiple sclerosis, but the MRI had you questioning everything.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to pretend to not know what was wrong with your patient,” House said cockily.

Igniting a fire in you. The implication making your blood run molten. Eyes narrowing in on him from above the folder. Mouth upturned like he had won a fight. Making you more angry.

Slamming the folder down on your desk, “You honestly think I’m so desperate that I would allow myself to look stupid just so you would come up here and yell at me?” Voice laced with a thick, deadly venom. Hissing through your teeth with each word.

House nonchalantly shrugged, “Whatever tickles your fancy.”

You growled, speaking through your teeth, “I can’t stand you.”

“Right… Is that why you’re still wearing that? Little reminder of how much you hate me?” House motioned towards your left hand.

The ring.

It had become second nature to just slip it on every morning. Eyes widening down at your digits. Pretending it did not hurt your feelings. Tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. Stunned into silence with his audacity.

“I… uh—“ you tried, really you did. But the way your throat burned and tightened you knew that if you continued you would be a crying mess in front of him.

Your eyes welled up at his. Pleading for him to back down. Begging for even an ounce of forgiveness, sympathy, something. Hands lacing together in front of you. Fidgeting with the ring that you hid under your right hand. Cheeks flooding with your embarrassment. Inability to come up with something to say making you seem weak. Your head hung in defeat.

House took the seat in front of your desk. Cane resting against the arm of it, feet propping themselves up. Far too casual for your liking. As if he had not ripped your heart clean from your chest and taken a bite.

“Boston next week,” unconcerned tone, faking excitement. Pretending that was not the entire reason things were this tense between you. Boston had been the wedge forced between you. Eyes harshly staring at you, “Must be exciting.”

You shrugged your shoulders. Hand rubbing up and down your arm. Trying to will yourself to look at him. Knowing you could not. Surprised he had kept up with what was going on with you. Completely opposite of what you had been doing. Maybe Wilson talked to him. Maybe he asked. It did not matter.

“Oh, don’t be coy,” House poked. His insistent need to pretend like everything was fine between you had anger swirling around your stomach. Falling back into habits that predated your relationship. Forgetting, more like ignoring, how much things had changed between you. Almost like you were just a coworker he found attractive, not that you had seen the most vulnerable parts of one another.

“House. Why are you here?” your eyes finally met his. Brows pinched together and teeth locked. Nostrils flaring with each steady breath you took.

“I brought your patient folder back. And a diagnosis,” House said.

“Greg.”

That made him sit up. Hands clasped in front of him, lips pursed together. Expression falling flat. Mischief behind his eyes fading quickly. Blowing his breath out loudly.

“You didn’t even call,” your words broke.

“Neither did you,” House sneered.

“You wouldn’t have answered if I did,” you defended.

A beat of silence.

“I know,” House huffed, “But I wanted you to.”

His words were desperate. Hiding the sadness that had overtaken him the past weeks. It was easy for him to suppress his emotions. Anger easier to live with than heartbreak. The night he forced you out had broken him. Wrecking his apartment beyond comprehension. Taking way more Vicodin than necessary just so he did not have to feel anything. Shattering all the picture frames along his tabletops. Cutting his hand deeply with one of the shards. Wincing, reminding himself he was alive.

That only made things worse.

Downing bottle after bottle of liquor. Not caring about the taste, but about how it made him numb. Your laughter and smile haunted his mind. Your hooks were so deeply rooted in him that there was no ripping them out. Wobbling into his bedroom where your discarded clothes littered the floor. Drunken rage causing him to shove the garments down his toilet, attempting to flush them. Only overflowing into the floor. Enraging him further. Beating his cane against the porcelain throne. Not realizing tears were burning down his face.

Shouting into the void of his bedroom. Pain coursing through his leg as he finally flopped onto his mattress. Your pillow beside his own. Sweet smell of you still embedded in his sheets. Fingers digging into the bedding as he ripped the fabric. Banging his head repetitively into the foam pillow.

“FUCKING BOSTON!”

He flipped onto his back. Hands grasping his face as he groaned. Instinctively extending his hand out to your side of the bed. Begging that you would be right there next to him and it would all have been a terrible dream. Cold and empty. Nails digging into the sheets once more. Breath coming out broken and strained as it all really hit him.

As always. House had ran off what he cared for most. Incapable of loving and caring. He was a disease. Infecting and ruining everyone who got close. And he had no desire to get better.

Not anymore.

Pitiful eyes looked into each other. Still grieving what could have been between you. Neither of you ready to let go.

Forced to break away when your door flew open. Cuddy’s smiling face quickly falling into shock. Not believing that the two of you were in the same room.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry! I’ll just go—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m coming,” you dismissed her. Clicking of heels exiting your office quicker than they had entered. Sighing remembering the commitment you had made to go out tonight. As sad as it was, you would rather be stuck in here with House than out with everyone.

Eyes falling back on House. Eyes telling you he had something he wanted to say to you. Swallowing before he quickly stood up. Looking at you with the biggest and saddest eyes you had ever seen. You walked around the desk, closing the distance between you. Closer than you had been all night. Within reach of perfectly falling back in together.

Every fiber of your being begged to tell him how much you missed him. How your life felt incomplete without him. That you had not slept the same without him there with you. Tell him that you loved him more than anything.

“Bye, Greg,” you mumbled, hand reaching out to pat his shoulder but stopping.

This time you were the one holding the gun. Aimed between his eyes, repositioning to his chest. Blowing him back. What remained exploding through the other side.

Walking past him and out your office. Leaving without saying what you really wanted. His silence ripped through your skin like barbed wire. Having to put on a fake smile when you met Cuddy in the hallway.

“Well?” Cuddy asked.

“He was… bringing me a patient’s diagnosis,” you lied.

“It’s good that you guys are speaking again,” she tried to cheer you up.

“Right,” you thought about it. About him.

In another week, he would be the farthest thing from your mind. All of this would be.

~~~

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Questioning everything. Suitcase tucked at your side preparing to catch your flight after work. Begin your new chapter. Conference your starting point before any final decision was made.

Today was the day.

Nerves had you flexing your hands at your sides. Stomach in knots of excitement. But also dread. Same black void that had consumed you prior, making itself known as it pinched and twisted your guts.

Tomorrow was a new day.

That kept you going. Able to calm down before heading to work for what could very possibly be the last time. The walls you had known better than those of your own home welcome you back. Surgical smell filling your senses. Taking the elevator all alone. Numbers clicking by as memories of the years of your life did. The first time you had ever taken this elevator feeling so long ago.

Towards the final year of your residency. Out performing the other promising neurologists, being transferred to the hospital where you would more than likely be hired. This very hospital.

Chaos ensued from the moment the doors opened. Patients coding in the halls, overflowed beds, and doctors yelling at each other. Your supervisor, a doctor who had long since retired from the position, told you to keep your head on straight. Try your hardest to ignore all the commotion and keep closing behind him. Helping run MRIs and watching brain surgeries. Feeling over your head in the fast paced environment.

You had finally gotten a moment’s peace as you paced around the hallway in front of a patients room. Having just delivered some devastating news to a family. The father was brain dead. There was nothing more you could do for him. It was their choice to leave him on life support or pull the plug, but the way you presented it to them was crucial.

You squatted against the wall, hand cupping over your mouth and pinching your nose. Clicking against the floor echoed through the hallway. The blunt end of a cane nudged at you, assuming it was an elderly patient. Surprised when you looked up to see a doctor.

“Not supposed to grovel where patients can see you,” his brash voice urged you.

“Sorry,” you said, standing and regaining composure. Leaning against the cold wall and examining the man before you. His large, early morning sky-like eyes doing the same to you. Curiosity getting the better of you both.

“So, what’s your—“

“Yes, I am a doctor. And yes I need a cane. Let’s get those stupid questions out of the way,” he said with a loud scoff.

“I was going to ask what your specialty was,” you awkwardly smiled.

His mouth morphed into an ‘O’. Teeth clinking together as he realized how harsh he had been. “Diagnostician. Specializing in Nephrology and Infectious Diseases.” Bragging clear on his tone. He was older than you, not by much. Enough to already have experience in the hospital that you could not begin to imagine. “I’m House,” he introduced himself with his hand splayed across his own chest. Not offering you his hand for pleasantries.

You nodded with tight lips. Unsure of what his motive was here.

House exhaled, “You’re new.”

“I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Finishing out my residency here. I’m a Neurologist. Interested in the pediatric part neurology mostly, but I love any brain,” you smiled. Youth still beaming on your cheeks.

“Fresh meat. Wilson is gonna love you,” he, who you now knew as House, smirked at you. Eyes checking out your whole figure. This was the first eye roll you gave him ever.

“That your wife or something?”

House chuckled, “More like boy-toy with benefits.”

House could see the shock on your face. Eyes windowing into how fast your brain processed the information. Of course you had assumed he was hitting on you, surprised that he was batting for the other team.

“I’m kidding. He’s an Oncologist here,” House deadpanned. Your hand slid down your face. Already annoyed by him. Face contorting as you tried to read him. He was like a page freshly typed that had water spilt on it. Unable to be properly interpreted. He was challenging you. Seeing how you handled his humor and behavior.

“For Christ’s sake. You young people and not being able to take a joke,” he generalized with a wave of his hand.

You squinted at him. Really taking the time to try and understand him. “You’re kinda an asshole, aren’t you?”

House’s brows sprung up his forehead. Laughing from how shocked he was at your assumption. Pointing to himself as he spoke, “That’s rather forward of you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So is your eyes all over my breasts, but you don’t see me getting offended,” you shrugged, gesturing towards your chest with two hands. House’s brow knitted together as he tried to fight off the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. My God, he had met his match.

House clicked his tongue as he leaned forward with both hands on his cane. Eyes narrowing in on you. How your hand sat on your hip with confidence only people like him possessed. “Arrogance isn’t pretty on you,” House dared insult.

“Ooo, what else?” You mocked, agging him along.

House’s tongue glazed over his teeth, air puffing out of his nose with what could have been a laugh.

“Do you think your boyfriend will find it pretty?” You tilted your head with your question, trying your hardest to rile him up. Fluttering your lashes sensually at him.

House backed off. Smiling widely with his teeth, "Come down to the cafeteria with me."

You glared at him. One of many times where he would make you smile. His charm worked on you, and you liked it. You liked him. You always had. Even with the insults. The belittlement. His misogynistic way of complimenting you. It all made him House.

And you loved that.

Doors to the elevator opened. Forcing you out of the fond memory. Into a reality that you were much not caring for. Wishing you could grab your old self and shake her out of the infatuated haze. Warn her of how severe of a heartache she would experience at the hands of the diagnostician.

Ghosting down the mostly vacant hallway. Strange compared to your memory. Opening the door to your office. Safe space for you amongst the uncertainties. Appreciating it now more than ever. Giving you so many good stories and bad. Cases that ranged from tragedy to triumphant news. You had packed most of it up the days leading up to your departure. Preparing to leave this all behind.

Surprised to see a small box with an envelope underneath it on your desk. Beautiful red ribbon wrapped into a bow on top. You smiled. Assuming it had to be from Wilson or Cuddy. Now your only two friends. Ripping open the envelope and pulling out the piece of notebook paper. Small, with messy handwriting on it.

"Congratulations. I hope Boston is good to you. I love you."

Was all it said. Cracking open the box to find the prettiest necklace you had ever laid your eyes on. Holding up a dew-drop shaped gem. Shimmering from the office lights. Finding yourself gawking at the expensive chain that encapsulated it. Dainty and perfect to wear casually. Resembling one you liked from an older movie.

No name was attached anywhere to the gift. Striking you as strange, but you had a lot to get done before your flight. So you chose to ignore it. Going on about things like any normal day. Assuring your patients that they would be properly cared for in your absence. Catching up with Cuddy in time to grab a quick bite to eat together.

"Pretty necklace. Who got you that?"

Your brows upturned, "I... don't know. I thought it had to be you or Wilson. Guess it's the latter."

"Hmm," she sounded unsure.

You would have to thank Wilson before you left.

The day flew by. Wilson sat in your office. Insisting on driving you to the airport. Despite how hard you objected, it was 'his job as your friend' to see you off. He held your suitcase, waiting for you to finally be ready to leave.

"Come on, you Bostonian! We've got to get you to the airport," Wilson said in a sing-song voice.

You stared out the window. Sunset always beautiful from here. You fiddled with your thumbs. Weighing it all in your mind. Envisioning a new life for yourself in Boston. Unfamiliar and incomplete faces. Only able to put some shitty-over the top Boston accent with them, like the ones they would do on Saturday Night Live. No matter how perfectly you imagined them, they would never live up to the friends you made here. Even in your fantasy, where you tried to picture a future with a husband and children.

It was House.

Every time. Wearing a nice black suit and a bright colored tie as you locked arms with him, stunning white dress flowing down your figure. Flower peddles fluttering around your heads as your closest friends all cheered you on. His hands would grasp your face as he kissed you. That lovesick expression of his warming your heart. He would kiss you goodnight and tuck himself in beside you. Imagining trying to pretend you were both still asleep when little pitter-patters of footsteps would enclose on your bedroom door. His finger would push against his lips to shush you. Knowing the minute your sweet child would call out to you, both of you would fold. Inviting them into the warmth with you. And he loved you. Really loved you.

Wilson's hand on your shoulder brought you back. Looking over and meeting his dark eyes. Forcing a smile with an exhale. "You're gonna be late," Wilson chided. You shook your head, closing the blinds and circling your desk.

"I meant to thank you," you said as you put your coat on.

"For?"

"The necklace," your fingers outlined the metal.

"I didn't get you a necklace," Wilson responded, confused.

Skin pinching together between your eyebrows. Holding the pedant a little tighter than before. Not understanding who could have dropped this off in your office. Brain refusing to connect the obvious dots.

"Hmp," you mumbled. A thoughtful gesture accompanied by an even kinder note. Fighting your body's urge to sprint down to your suspect's office. It would only make your decision harder. Make everything complicated. You could not do that. Not when you were this close to your escape.

You and Wilson turned the lights off in your office and headed for the elevator. Opting out of your usual shared stair walk, seeing as you were having to carry luggage. Doors opening to the lobby. Cold from the constant opening of doors. A soft shiver went down your spine.

"Alright," Wilson said as you headed for the door, "Forgetting anything?"

That question made you freeze. Looking down at your finger. The same band and gem glistening. You were forgetting something. Completely leaving it behind. Tears finding their place along your waterline again. Closing your eyes and clinching your fist.

Why could he not come tell you goodbye? Why did he not even try to get you to stay? He never was a beggar, but maybe this once he could have been. Just to get you back.

That fucking bastard.

"No," you said softly.

Walking out into the now dark exterior. Cloudy sky blocking any natural lighting. Only the bright neon of your home. Soon to be a memory replaced by a new one.

"I'm going to go get the car," Wilson pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. Leaving you alone with your bags. Allowing your demeanor to change once your friend was out of site. Shoulders slumping, head falling in exhaustion. Having to fake excitement and joy for your new beginnings all day. None of this went how you wanted. Change was always so hard on you. But was it not on everyone?

"Y/N," a voice called out to you from the entry doors of the hospital. Turning to meet him. Your name from his tongue almost sounding fake. Wrong. Speedily, he walked over to you. Cane echoing against the silent courtyard.

Heart overflowing in your chest when you could finally make a clear image of his face. Agitated lines etched into his face. Misty eyes imploring you to delve headfirst into them. Teeth locked together while heavy breaths filled his lungs.

"I'm selfish. And cynical. And rude. An-And all around, I'm not a good guy," House presented to you. Words only angering you further. Arms crossing over your chest as you popped a hip out. Head falling to the side as you examined him.

"House—"

"Just," he abruptly cut you off, "Listen to me. Every bad thing you think of me is true. And I have done nothing to make you think anything different in the last month. My leg hurts if I think about you too long. Throbs beyond any pill's cure. Because it needs you. I need you. Even if you don't need me."

You stared blankly at him. Unyielding guard around you after one too many disappointments. Cold and distant as you looked at him. Unsure how any of this was supposed to sway you.

"But you've still got that ring on. And that has to mean something," House gestured, like it took everything in him to finally get to the point. Fist clinching at your side, thumb rubbing over the band. A crack in your shield. One he could weasel his way into. Under your skin and back into your heart.

Your eyes welled up. Blank expression falling into a sob. Palms cupping your face as your shoulders quivered. "Why couldn't you have came by earlier? Brought me the necklace yourself. Said what you wrote to my face," voice defeated and broken.

His hand reached out to you, "Y/N—"

"Don't touch me! You don't get to do this to me," finally allowing the damn of hatred to burst. "Do nothing but avoid and belittle me to the entire hospital for a month. Just at the idea of me leaving. Look where that got us! You are nothing more than a self-sabotaging man-child. I am not going to continue to cater to your fantasy anymore, House. I can't do this with you for the rest of my life," you shouted as your arms straightened at your sides.

House's posture straightened. Apologetic orbs falling hooded as they looked at you. Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he silently swallowed. Fighting back the choke that tickled the back of his pallet. Nostrils flailing as he repressed any sadness that dared gather around his eyes.

You quickly removed the ring from your finger. Pinching it between two fingers as you held it out to him. Hands and breathing shaky. Hot tears burned down your cheeks. Lip quivering as you shook it in his face, "Take it. It's not mine anymore."

House refused to move. A singular stream of tears dripping from his eyes. Lips sealed as he shook his head. Vein on his forehead bulging as his eyes grew bloodshot. His lip barely pouting out like a child who had just been scolded.

"It's yours," House's voice was not above a whisper. Crestfallen publicly for one of the first times. Refuting any claims you had about the ring not being yours. He had it specialty made for you. Your initials were engraved on the band. His directly next to it. The gem he had chosen to match the month you fell in love. Every aspect was you. Meant for you in every way possible.

You aggressively grabbed his wrist, prying his fingers open and placing it in his hand. Closing the digits over it. Nails digging into his skin momentarily. “All this is is a reminder. Of this place. Of what I’m leaving behind. Of… you. I can’t take this with me,” you heaved.

The first time you had touched him in over a month.

Exuding nothing but hatred towards him.

He had really messed things up with you. And how could he blame you for being angry?

"You can't even tell me you love me when I'm about to literally fly away from you," you growled, drowned by tears.

"I do."

"Then say it, Greg!"

Daunting silence.

Your eyes burned as you squinted at him. Saddened by his lack of devotion. You could be down on your hands and knees. It would not change this.

Sound of the car door closing behind you made you look over your shoulder. Wilson’s eyes stared at you across the short distance. Assessing what was happening between the two of you. Deciding to not insert himself, packing your bags into the trunk of his car.

“I’m leaving,” you said shortly. He was the love of your life. A regret you would have for the rest of your life. There was no world where you did not need him. Your missing piece, but you could not live like this. And this was the only way he knew how to live.

Dying for a last ditch effort from him.

Anything.

You walked away for the final time. Sniffling back your tears. Meeting Wilson who had the passenger door open for you. Taking your seat in your friend’s car. Looking out the window to see House standing there pathetically. His hand raised in a final goodbye wave. What felt like miles away.

Wilson glared as he circled around to his side of the car. Taking his place behind the wheel. Looking at your now puffy cheeks. Admiring that even at what he imagined was your lowest, you still tried to compose yourself. Looking over and smiling at him.

“Alright, taxi driver. I’ve got a flight to catch,” you chuckled.

A mostly silent ride accompanied you. Pulling to a stop in front of the large glass doors. Families reuniting and departing. People holding signs. People having clearly heated phone calls. A place laced with every emotion you could experience. It was beautiful.

“Okay! I’ll help you get your bags out, but car’s gotta keep running. They get pissed if you park here for too long,” Wilson joked.

“Thank you, James,” you exhaled. Smiling at your comrade. Unpacking and sitting it all on the concrete curb. Standing with his hands on his hips in front of you.

You pulled him into a deep hug. He was the best friend you had. Wilson’s hand patted your back, squeezing you tightly.

“I’ll come visit,” Wilson said softly. He had been acting tough through all of this for you. Faking being unbothered by the fact you were abandoning him. Through thick and thin, he had you. This was going to be hard on him.

You pulled away with tears staining your face again. Becoming like second nature to you as of late. Smiling widely at him. “I love you, James. I can’t stop thanking you for everything,” you admitted.

“Love you too,” he said with melancholy.

Waving goodbye as you rushed into the airport. Wheels of your suitcase bumping against the ground with each step. You should have fixed the wheel before traveling, but you had more important things on your mind. Long process getting through everything and finding your terminal. Taking your seat against a window. Glow of the runway illuminating through the tiny glass. Putting headphones on to drown out all the rattling and bangs of takeoff.

To Boston.

~~~

The weekend conference had flown by. Attending lectures with doctors you never knew you would share a room with. Never thinking this level of success was within reach for you.

And maybe it was not.

Everyone who had been invited here was brilliant. Innovative and well-spoken. Beloved by all your fellow doctors. Inspiring the next generation. Things you were not sure you possessed. Finding yourself comparing to all those around you. Imposter syndrome wrapping you in its veil. Even when board members would recognize you and thank you for attending. Inviting you to each special lecture. Wanting you to feel accepted and honored, yet it only pushed you further away.

Separating yourself from who was supposed to become your new colleagues. Not clicking with any of them in a way that made you comfortable. Each field having their own clicks and groups. Not being welcomed in by any of them. Especially when they saw you speaking exclusively with board members.

It was all trivial.

You were here for work.

Yet something still buzzed in the back of your mind. Maybe this was not what you wanted.

Imaging yourself here no longer brought joy and comfort. Praying you would fall in love with Boston Children’s Hospital and its staff. Yet you had never felt more like an outsider in your own field.

But you had to want this. You had been so willing to leave everything else behind. Burning bridges beyond repair. Uprooting your life just for this opportunity.

Maybe it was not worth it.

You walked over a nearby bridge with another group of doctors. Finally being asked about yourself. What made you come to Boston? Oh, wow. That’s a serious change to make within a few weeks. What field were you in? Of course, they had an incredible neurologist heading the department before he up and left. No one was going to replace him in their hearts! Had they heard of any of your research before? Yeah, that sounds really important.

How could some strangers make you feel so small? When you had been built up so highly by the board? This was humiliating.

Parting ways with them in front of the hospital. Waving goodbye as they all laughed to some joke you did not overhear. Sighing and allowing yourself to shrink for a moment. Stepping in a circle as you stared up at the bright lights.

They promised you new beginnings. An out for a situation it had gotten you into. You had enjoyed exploring the halls. Seeing the smiling nurses and patients. All the advanced tech that lined their rooms. Incredibly impressed by how far ahead technologically they were. Funding was high here.

Still. You could only compare it to your home. No instant connection like you had with PPTH.

Maybe you could stay the same forever. Jumping headfirst at every chance of freedom. Fleeing whenever you felt that familiar itch in your bones. The only reason you had so swiftly made up your mind to begin with. There was a comfort in running. Escaping anytime you felt trapped. It was the final night of your trip. You needed to make your mind up and fast.

But. What if it was time to settle down? Warmth overtaking you when you thought of a mundane life. Early morning kisses. Breakfast in bed on the weekends. A baby cradled in your arms. Husband kissing you both on the head. It would not fulfill you anymore than your work had. Yet you found solace in the idea. It was a nice thought after all.

You turned your back to the building. Looking up at the night sky. Clearer than it was in Jersey. Stars still blurred from pollution. Yet they twinkled. Despite all the disgusting smog and reflection of lights.

Your back pocket vibrated. Fetching the small device out. The name illuminating the screen stunning you. Hesitating for only a split second before flipping it open and pressing it to your ear.

Unable to force any words out. Hearing him breathing on the other end causing your heart to flutter.

“Hi, Greg,” you exhaled, relief clear on your tone. Almost like you had been holding your breath without realizing. Surprised he even wanted to call you after how you had treated him last.

“How’s Boston?”

Straight to the point. Never one for pleasantries. Always brash and direct.

“It’s… good,” you lowly said. The words sounding fake as you said them. Propping your elbow in your hand to make holding the phone up more comfortable. Swaying side to side in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cold breeze.

“Good…” he trailed off, repeating the word with the same conviction you did. Clearly having more to say, but holding his tongue.

“Feel like home?”

You laughed, “No. It never could.”

House chuckled in response. Your shared humor mellowing out into a comfortable silence. Feeling like it used to before this whole mess started.

“It’s nice… to hear your voice again,” you admitted, allowing any shame to roll off your body. Your love for him outweighing your anger. Missing him more than you ever would have led on. Especially this side of him.

“Yours too…” you could hear his smile with each word. “Think you’re gonna stay?”

You hummed. Uncertainty in your vocals. Lip scrunching up with your eye as you thought. Not wanting to lead him on about anything. Knowing few things could sway your mind.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. Eyes falling closed. Images in your mind blurring. Incapable of picturing yourself in Boston.

“Yeah…”

“I kinda miss Jersey. I miss… you guys,” you admitted. Hurting your ego, but it needed to be said.

“I miss you,” House said casually. Shooting an arrow through your heart. Pooping as it caused your blood to flow toward your cheeks. Smiling like it was the first time you had ever been complimented. Knowing he did not just mean from this weekend. He missed you. Every day with you. Distance you had over the last month causing him distress.

You sighed, “It’s not home.”

Those words solidifying the decision you had been teetering on. Voice not above a whisper when you heard more footsteps outside. Not wanting to sound ungrateful to any passersby. Clicking clueing you in that it could be a board member in her fancy shoes.

“Then come home,” deep, gentle words melted down your figure. Causing you to jump when they came from directly behind you. Turning to see him. Figure towering over his cane. Sophisticated hat atop his head. Wearing an overcoat and jeans. Familiar smile across his face.

Your phone dropped out of your hand as you rushed over to him. Tears flowing freely when you jumped into his arms. Knocking him off balance, but making sure you kept both of you standing. Your face tucking into his chest as half breaths escaped you. His large hand cupped the back of your head.

“It’s really you,” you exhaled. Leaning back to cup both sides of his face. Thumbs tracing along each worry line and scruffy hair. Grasping him tight as if some outside force would rip him away in an instant. Eyes wide and finally getting the life back in them.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, his own thumb wiping away your tears. Hooded eyes lovingly looked into yours. Head tilting slightly as he took in each feature. Waterline stained from how much you had cried. Somehow more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Greg, h-how? Why are you here?”

“You know Wilson and I will come up with any excuse for a roadtrip,” House smiled. Cocky grin overtaking his expression as his brows raised. Pulling a laugh from you. Tucking your face into his chest to hide how your face scrunched up. His heart flourished hearing you. Comforting sound that had became a distant memory. You softly shoved his shoulder with your hand.

Doeing your eyes up at him. Lashes wet with joy. Both of you breathing in tandem. Your hands flattened against his shoulders. His now cupped your face. Darting between each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” House said.

You mouthed words that did not escape. Brows upturning. Glossy eyes filled with sincerity. He meant it. Deep down, he always had.

“I love you too,” you admitted. Capturing you in a deep kiss. As if you had been lost at sea and he finally got his eyes on you. Desperate and filled with desire.

“You came all this way to tell me that?” you chuckled, your hand joining his on your cheek.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic,” House shrugged, lips pierced together. Earning a giggle from you. Body instinctively following his as he pulled away. Eyes saddening for a moment as you watched him drop his cane.

House began to take one knee before you. Kneejerk reaction to stop him. Hands waving frantically. Cringing when his face contorted in discomfort. Wincing under his breath as he shimmied through his coat pocket. Presenting your ring back to you. Pinched between shaking fingers. Yearning, ocean eyes gazing into yours.

“You deserve a proper proposal,” House muttered. “Y/N. I love you. More than I will ever be able to show you. I-I love you so much… it hurts. But I would do it all in pain, as long as it’s with you. I want you to be my wife,” House said with vicious valor. Meaning every single word. Pouring his heart out to you in the most vulnerable way possible. Regretting not doing this all sooner.

Your hands tented over your mouth. Nodding profusely. Reaching out to help him to his feet, trying to minimize the pain. Wincing again as he finally got footing, handing him his cane once more. Allowing him to put his weight on it.

He reached for your left hand, sliding the ring on your finger. Where it belonged. Designed and custom made for you. His love.

Lips connecting once more. He greeted you with a toothy grin when you pulled back. Reciprocating as you laced your fingers together.

A weight lifted off your shoulders. Encapsulating you with warmth and love. Acceptance that it was okay to be happy where you were. Not having to chase the next high. This was better than what any board member could offer you.

“Wilson should be parked up front,” House pointed. Guiding you to the place your best friend was located. Watching his figure do a double take from the inside of his car. Fumbling as he got out of the vehicle and met you and House halfway. Smiling widely at you both. Happy to see your face once more.

Wilson pulled you into a hug, hand never leaving House’s. Still too afraid of never feeling it in your own again. “When you said you would come visit I thought you meant in a few weeks, not two days,” you laughed. Poking fun at him.

Wilson’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. Chuckling with amusement, “I couldn’t resist a trip to bring you home.”

Overwhelmed with the love presented to you from them. Your found-family. The ones you loved and cared for most. Using their best efforts to bring you back to them. Cup overflowing with gratitude and appreciation.

“You are coming with us, right?” Wilson double-checked.

You nodded, “How could I not?”

House pulled you tighter against his side. Planting a kiss against your head. Engulfed by the smell of your shampoo. It was all the little things he missed.

“I just need to swing by the hotel and get my stuff. And we can go,” you giddily said, motioning a takeoff with your hands.

“Eager, aren’t you? I thought we’d catch another lecture or two. Heard Dr. Who-Knows-What is here, I’d love to hear her presentation,” House chided. Sense of humor never lost on him. Smiling with his teeth widely when you rolled your eyes at him.

There she was. His girl.

“I’ll give you the ‘for dummies’ version on the ride home,” you poked him in the side. Making him wriggle and exclaim an ‘OW!’ that would have gotten the attention of any strangers. You quickly forced your palm over his mouth to shut him up. A warm, wet tongue lapped at your palm. Causing you to shake your hand vigorously, “GROSS!”

“Ooh. You’re acting like my cock hasn’t been in your mouth,” House smirked. Your face flooded with heat immediately. Jaw slacking as he laughed.

Wilson scoffed. Unamused by both your childish antics. Not surprised with the casual way House spoke about your sex life. He had missed this.

“Okay, lovebirds. Let’s go,” Wilson motioned towards the parking lot with his whole body. Hurrying you both along.

Whipping your head to look at House, “Shotgun.”

You stuck your tongue out as you ran towards the car.

“Oh, come on now! That’s not fair—“ House whined, “Challenging a cripple to a foot race? You should be ashamed!”

“I’m not!” you quipped as you quickly opened the door.

House smiled. Wilson giving him a knowing glance over his shoulder. Laughing at House’s defeat. Joining you in the vehicle, House leaned between the two front seats.

“I was hoping you’d get in the back with me. I’ve got a welcome home present for you,” he wiggled his eyebrows and motioned towards his groin. Your hands hid your face from the embarrassment. Groaning loudly. A soft ‘Jesus’ coming from Wilson.

“You’re such a pervert!”

“And you love me,” House poked your cheek. You leaned to look back at him. Eyes full of love for you as he smiled. You blew a kiss at him.

The ride home was long. Filled with sing-a-longs and pointless discussions. House arguing about some tv show he was watching. Neither you are Wilson really disagreeing, but you knew he liked a good argument. Wilson would make fun of you when a new pop song would play and you knew the words. House’s fingers would rub your shoulders from the backseat, any excuse to touch you. Long digits playing with the necklace he had gifted you. Familiar tug of sleep wrapping around you, but you were too afraid. What if you woke up and this was all just a dream?

You shouted when you crossed back over the New Jersey line. Alarming your fellow riders. House reciprocating the shout simply to annoy Wilson. Everything suddenly becoming more familiar. You knew the way back and it felt like home.

“You guys just want to stay at my place tonight?” Wilson asked as you got closer to your destination. Your arm was bent backwards so that you and House could interlock fingers. Holding hands was one of his favorite things to do. Analyzing and learning your digits. They were just so you. Alive and beautiful.

“Awww. Missed me so bad you wanna hawve a sweepovwer?” you teased Wilson with a pucker of lips.

“You’re an ass,” Wilson groaned.

“Don’t talk to my lady that way!” House defended jokingly.

“I would love to stay with you tonight,” you yawned. Eyelids growing heavy. Nuzzling your face into the leather seat. Not admitting how much of a comfort it would be to have the two most important people in your life under the same roof as you for your first night home. Even if it was nearly 1 a.m. right now.

House kissed your hand. Resting his cheek against your conjoined appendages. Pulling onto the street beside Wilson’s home. Warm yellow glow from the inside inviting you in. House opened the door for you, offering your tired body a hand. Leading you to Wilson’s front door. And of course, he fumbled with the keys. Taking his time to unlock it. Your sleep being withheld from you a little longer.

Wilson pushed the door open to allow you inside first. Flabbergasted by the sight that greeted you. Balloons scattered across the floor, streamers hanging on every surface, and a ‘Welcome Home’ banner hung up perfectly in your line of sight. Eyes meeting Cuddy standing in the kitchen, hands clasped together as she bounced with excitement.

“Surprise!” she shouted and rushed over to you. Wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Hi, Lisa,” you exasperated.

“Thank God these two idiots didn’t come back empty handed. Probably would’ve given them both extra clinic duty,” she ragged, “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“You guys didn’t have to do all this for me,” you blushed. Looking over to House and Wilson. Both smiling and happy to see you doing the same.

“There’s some pizza in the oven and champagne in the refrigerator if you are up for celebrating,” Cuddy suggested.

You shook your head. Completely awestruck. Convinced you were completely replaceable in everyone’s heart, but you were sorely mistaken. You would never find such incredible colleagues— friends, as you had here. At home.

“Of course,” you admitted. Grinning from ear to ear.

The four of you celebrating for hours. Catching up from your short absence. Telling them all about Boston Children’s Hospital. All the incredible tech they had, and how large the hospital truly was. Food tasting incredible, not even thinking that you had forgotten dinner. Champagne buzzing against your cheeks. Wilson and Lisa were quick to pass out. Exhaustion hitting them like a bus. Asleep in the living room, so you decided to take Wilson’s guest room.

The room was dark. Light shining in from the partially opened blinds. Yellow hue of a street lamp illuminating your face as you stared at House. Laying on top of the comforter together. Hands flat in front of your faces. Taking the time to be alone together. Dancing your hand up his cheek, softly through his hair, and cupping his neck. Thumb tracing his jawline. Tickled by the pokey facial hair.

Sleep had its hooks in you. Blinks becoming slower. Covering your mouth when a yawn broke free. House chuckled, “You can sleep.”

“Noooo,” you whined, “I’m not even tired.”

His hand petted through your hair. Smiling at your denial. As much as he wanted you to stay awake and keep talking to him, he knew you had to be exhausted. Heavy lidded eyes barely peaking up at him as your lips parted with small breaths escaping.

House pressed a kiss into your forehead, “I will be here when you wake up.”

You reached out for his hand. Squeezing it between your own. Checking to make sure it was all real. That he was there and not a dream.

“I love you, Greg.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

[END/Final]

// Thank you so much for reading! This chapter ended up being quite a bit longer than I had originally planned, but I got everything in I wanted. I have truly fallen in love with this story and it is one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. To all of you who have kept up with it and supported me, I love you! If I could give you all a big hug and kiss I would. As always, requests are open. Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! //

{tags}

@houseslollipop ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @yourgirlcarol ~ @needz1nk ~ @crimin4llyins4ne ~ @bitchy-bi-trash ~ @chaimshelii ~ @cailleachcola ~ @shutthefrickup ~ @dustie-faerie ~ @vincentnaj ~ @vlyrexsworld ~ @thefemininemystiquee ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~

[prettygirl-gabi]

“To the Moon and Beyond” pt.3

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader (Pazzi x Reader)

Fandom: NCAA Women’s Basketball / WNBA

Warnings: cheating, revenge cheating, eventually in later parts there will be 18+ content (smut, alcohol consumption, strong language), polyamory, public teasing/flirting (in later parts)

Summary: A tangled history of love, heartbreak, and hidden desire leads three elite players into a secret relationship—and the WNBA spotlight.

A/N: yes this is hella long… I got in a groove and couldn’t stop writing… but yeahh enjoy!! This is also one of the longest fics I’ve ever written… will be multiple parts….cause it’s too long for tumblr…

Also thank you @paige05bby for the banner/header

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @alwaysobsessedwithwbb

The morning sun filters through the curtains in warm streaks, slicing golden light across the hotel suite like it’s trying to hold us in this moment a little longer.

Azzi’s still asleep, curled into Paige’s empty side of the bed, hood up over her curls, one hand tucked under her cheek like she’s holding on to a dream.

Paige and I wake before the alarms. We always do on big days.

There’s no talking at first—just movement, quiet and familiar. I stretch. Paige yawns. She slides out of bed, glances back at me with a soft, crooked grin, and reaches her hand out without saying a word.

I take it.

The water is already warm by the time we step into the shower. Steam rises around us like a curtain. It’s not about sex—it hasn’t been, not in a long time.

It’s about softness. About care. About the hundreds of mornings like this one, where we didn’t need words to say what we felt.

I wash her back first, fingers tracing over old bruises, familiar scars. I work the shampoo into her hair and she tips her head back, trusting. Her eyes flutter closed.

When it’s my turn, she’s even gentler. Paige’s fingers card through my hair, nails scratching my scalp just enough to make me lean into her. Her hands find my shoulders, then my ribs. She kisses my temple, then the tip of my nose.

“You ready?” she whispers.

“No,” I murmur. “But I’m glad it’s you next to me.”

When we step out, Azzi’s still asleep—though she’s shifted now, arms wrapped around one of Paige’s pillows, like her body knows what her heart won’t say out loud yet.

We towel off quietly, get dressed. By the time the suite starts buzzing with stylists and cameras and texts from agents, we’ve buried that moment in the quiet part of ourselves again.

But it lingers. Like steam on a mirror. Like a promise we’re still too scared to say out loud.

Brittany is now floating around the suite, one AirPod in, one hand fixing Azzi’s necklace while the other tosses my hairstylist a hair touch-up kit that was to far out of reach. Her voice is calm, surgical — but she’s in the zone, flitting between the three of us like a runway coach with a game plan…

“Okay, Azzi, baby, your dress is zipped. Hair’s laid. You’re a vision.”

Azzi spins slowly in front of the mirror, her long black dress hugging her like it was sewn in silence by angels. Her earrings sparkle, catching the low light of the suite, and for a second I just… stare.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” I say honestly.

She turns, smiling — soft and warm and knowing. “You only say that when Paige isn’t looking.”

I grin. “No. I say it more when Paige isn’t looking.”

From across the room, Paige snorts. She’s perched on the arm of a chair, half-dressed in her first look — the custom Coach suit that makes her look like a films fever dream. Classic, but sharp. Her hair and makeup half finished, and somehow, she still looks like she owns the building.

“Whatever,” Paige says, smirking as she meets my eyes in the mirror. “Y’all act like I’m chopped liver.”

“You’re like… foie gras,” I tease, walking over to let her pick out my earrings to go with my first look. “Fancy. Expensive. A little controversial.”

Azzi laughs as she leans toward the mirror, applying her lip gloss with steady precision. “If y’all start kissing while I’m putting on this glass bomb, I’m leaving this suite. Deadass.”

“You literally watched me contour Paige’s jawline with my thigh like three weeks ago,” I say, not looking up as I finish the last curl on my left side.

Azzi doesn’t flinch. “Different context,” she mutters, smacking her lips together to smooth the shine. “That was preseason. This is glam season. There’s a difference. One had soft lighting and a full-body mirror. This has E! News updates and potential Getty images.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Paige chimes in from behind me, already in her first look and scrolling casually through her texts. “Besides, if she kisses me right now, my lip liner’s gonna survive. Can’t say the same for yours.”

Azzi turns, pointing the lip gloss wand at her like a dagger. “Try me. I’m wearing Hot Chocolit. I will end you.”

Next thing I knew it was my turn to get ready. Brittany coming to me with the biggest grin and unzipped the dress cover bag.

Carefully I slipped into the dress like I was stepping into a moment I’d been waiting for my whole life.

The black velvet corset hugged my torso, cinching me in tight, like it was built to hold all the nerves and excitement that came with being one of the big prospects for the WNBA draft pick.

The sweetheart neckline dipped just enough to make me feel bold, but not distracting—just powerful, grown, ready.

The skirt flowed from my waist in layers of matte black fabric, soft but sculpted, gathered into a dramatic bow on my hip. That bow felt like a final touch, like a ribbon on a gift I was about to give the world: me, at my best. The slit ran high up my thigh, and every time I took a step, I felt the cool air kiss my leg, grounding me in the present.

Brittany and I kept the heels simple—thin, black straps that didn’t fight for attention—and let the dress do the talking. But if you looked hard enough you could see the red at the bottom. My necklace though, that was a moment. Emeralds and diamonds, like little drops of confidence around my neck.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn’t just feel pretty. I felt unstoppable. Like the girl who grew up hooping on outdoor courts in worn-out sneakers had finally become the woman who deserved to take up space—bold, glamorous, and absolutely ready for the league. Azzi looks up and immediately pauses whatever she was typing.

“Jesus, baby” she breathes, standing. “You’re not real.”

I smirk and walk over to the vanity as I got a close look at my necklace and my earrings that matched. “Stop it.”

Behind me, there’s a soft shuffle of shoes on hotel floor.

Paige.

She’s finally done with hair and makeup—clean, lashes soft and fluttery, lip gloss barely there but devastating all the same.

She’s traded her usual hoodie and sweatpants for something sparkly, custom, and lethal. And still, she walks over like it’s just another morning.

Her eyes find mine in the mirror first, then trail down to the curve of my shoulder. Her hands slide around my waist from behind, fingers splaying just under the hem of my blazer.

“You look…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Just breathes it in.

She dips her head, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“You think they’ll let me sit at your table instead of my own if I begged?” she murmurs.

I smile but don’t answer. Not with Azzi and Brittany here.

Speaking of—

“You three are stupid hot,” Brittany says as she walks in holding a steamer and a lint roller like weapons. “Honestly? Power throuple behavior.”

Azzi snorts. “You been knew.”

Brittany shrugs. “I’m just saying — any color carpets should be paying you for the photo op.”

Paige wiggles her eyebrows. “So we’re charging per angle now?”

Brittany rolls her eyes but grins, then waves Azzi toward the mirror. “Okay, Azzi. It’s your moment. Hair’s perfect, and I brought both watches for you to pick.”

Azzi walks over and looks between the two — one sleek and delicate with a thin band, the other bold, diamond-encrusted with a heavy face. She looks torn.

“I don’t know which one’s the move,” she mumbles. “Big or small?”

I step up beside her, eyeing her full look in the mirror. The strapless black dress hugs her in all the right places, showing off her arms and collarbones, sleek and timeless — like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn with just the right amount of edge.

“Go with the smaller one,” I say, lifting it off the tray. “It compliments the look and adds to it at the same time.”

Azzi meets my eyes through the mirror, a smile ghosting on her lips. “Good call. You’ve got taste.”

“Obviously,” I say, glancing toward Paige.

Brittany sighs with affection. “God, I love y’all. Now go break hearts.”

We leave the hotel suite in shifts, like pros. Paige goes first.

Her Coach suit is the definition of tailored seduction — a fitted yet loose three-piece with flowy pants that move with elegance, a matching vest worn over nothing, her skin golden and glowing, and a blazer to top it off. She carries a black clutch and exits like she owns the damn planet.

Next is Azzi. She steps into the elevator like she’s about to shut it down. And she does. Her hair’s pressed out flowing as if it was silk, her earrings are statement without screaming, and her dress glides when she moves — confident, clean, unstoppable.

Finally, I step out. My heels click against the pavement. Brittany gives me one last fluff and an approving nod.

“Ten outta ten. No notes.”

At the orange carpet, Paige is already making headlines. Flashes go off in every direction as she stands poised, one hand in her pocket, the other adjusting her blazer like it’s a throne. Her eyes lock on me the second I arrive.

Azzi meets me halfway and tugs me in for a picture, her hand casually wrapped around my waist, Paige stepping in on the other side.

Three of us. Together. In sync, yet separate.

And the world has no idea.

We take the pictures—laughing, whispering between poses, Paige sneaking her hand down to brush against mine once when no cameras are aimed our way.

It’s flawless.

And it’s only just begun.

Once we step off the orange carpet and duck behind the divider curtain, the world behind us fades. Brittany claps loudly the moment she spots Paige and me, her headset swinging around her neck. Azzi is a few paces behind us, following a production assistant who’s offering to walk her to Paige’s table.

“Alright, you two, first look is done,” Brittany says, motioning like a coach calling in a timeout. “Time to change into your second fits before y’all go to your respective tables. Let’s go, move it, fashion waits for no one.”

We follow her down the hallway toward our private dressing room — a cozy little suite tucked backstage, draped in garment bags and flooded with soft, golden lights.

The moment the door shuts behind us, Brittany’s already unzipping my dress like she’s a pit crew in the final lap of the Indy 500.

Azzi’s POV

I wanted be backstage with them still. Should be watching Paige and Y/N pick out which rings sparkle most under the camera flash, laughing when Brittany scolds them for smudging lip gloss onto the collars of their second looks.

But instead—I’m already at the table.

Sitting between Amy and Bob, trying to ignore the way my knee keeps bouncing under the tablecloth.

Paige’s mom reaches out to pat my hand. “She looked so beautiful,” she says softly.

“She always does,” I murmur back.

My eyes scan the room—this glittering ballroom filled with nerves and history and too many lights. I do a few rounds, say hey to some of the other prospects. It helps me breathe. A little.

Eventually, I drift toward the section where our teammates are seated. Nika’s already throwing a peace sign toward the stage, Aaliyah with her biggest grin watching me approaching, Ice’s got her camera out, and KK’s cracking jokes like she’s on a mic. It feels like UConn even here. Home stitched into every seat.

But something’s still tugging.

Because I know that in a few minutes, Paige will be walking out under those lights. And right behind her… so will Y/N.

I don’t know if the world will ever see it—what we had. What we tried to build. What we never really stopped feeling.

But I know it.

And that’s enough to make this night burn a little brighter.

Y/n’s pov

Brittany had a look in her eye — the kind that said, this next dress is the one. She moved like a woman on a mission, holding the blush pink gown delicately in her arms like it was art.

“Okay,” she grinned, “time to give them something soft but unforgettable.”

I laughed nervously, the adrenaline from the first part of the night still humming beneath my skin. My palms were sweaty, but Paige’s were steady and cool as she reached for my hands.

“Here,” she said softly, fingers wrapping around mine, “I got you, lover girl.”

I held on tight as I stepped out of my first look. Paige didn’t let go, even when Brittany started easing the new dress over my hips. The fabric was cool, silky, and it slipped into place like a whispered secret. Paige’s hands found my waist for balance while I stepped into the blush pink heels Brittany passed me — delicate things with wraparound straps that matched the dress exactly.

The gown hugged me in all the right places. Ruching drew my waist in, the cowl neckline dipping low with soft elegance, while the high slit on my right leg made me feel like I could command the room with just one step.

I turned away from Paige and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the silver cross necklace Brittany fastened at my collarbone gleaming under the lights, and my breath caught.

“Damn, baby” Paige whispered behind me. “You’re… wow.”

I turned my head slightly, our eyes meeting the second I looked back. “You think this is too much?”

Paige shook her head slowly. “No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Brittany smirked stepping away from me. “That’s the look. A whisper dipped in blush.”

The fabric is soft and dreamy, with delicate shade of pink that catches the light like stardust.

I slip on new earrings — small teardrop diamonds that dangle and dance with every turn of my head.

Paige pulling me into her body and lowers her head to mine. Our foreheads press together, a familiar gravity pulling us close.

“This feels real,” she whispers, breath warm against my lips. “Too real.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Because it is.”

She nods, her thumb brushing against the dip in my back. “If I kiss you now…”

“Nope. No kissing. No lipstick smudging,” Brittany cuts in from the other side of the room, not even glancing up from steaming Paige’s second look — a stunning, all-black Louis Vuitton masterpiece that looks like it was tailored in the shadows of a Paris runway.

“You’re evil, Britt.” Paige mutters without letting go of me.

“I’m practical,” Brittany fires back. “Kiss her after the event. Or before the cameras come back. Not now. Not when I just fixed that lip line.”

I laugh, resting my head against Paige’s shoulder. “Rain check?”

She gives me a wink. “I’m collecting with interest.”

Ten Minutes Later

Brittany helps Paige step into her second look and honestly, I had so forgot how to breathe for a second.

She was already beautiful, but this? This was something else. The tailored black suit hugged every line of her frame like it was made by hand—and knowing Brittany, it was damn near close.

Beaded lapels shimmered subtly with each step she took, catching the light like stars on midnight fabric. The jacket was buttoned low, just enough to make it clear there was nothing underneath. No shirt. No bralette. Just skin and the kind of confidence only she could wear so naturally.

Her hair had now been pulled back loosely with Bobby pins, since her first look, strands flowing loosely, a soft beach like wave curls brushing past her collarbone. She looked powerful. Elegant. Dangerously calm.

“You like?” Paige asked, her voice soft but edged with mischief.

“Is that even a real question?” I breathed, still staring. “You look… insane.”

She grinned and turned slightly, pretending to check her profile in the full-length mirror—though I caught her watching me through the reflection instead. “Britt said I needed to bring out the ‘draft night closer energy.’ So.”

“Well, you just shut the whole show down,” I said, stepping toward her. I ran my hand down the lapel, feeling the intricate beadwork under my fingers, then rested my palm flat against her chest, just over her heart. “You’re gonna break the internet.”

She leaned in, just enough that her lips brushed my ear. “Good.”

Brittany made a noise of faux disgust behind us. “Okay, lovebirds, save the flirting for the after party. Let’s go.”

“I wish we were sitting together,” she says quietly, eyes flickering to mine.

I reach for her hand, squeezing once. “We’ll meet in the middle.”

Before we leave, she pulls me in again — a fast kiss, not long enough to ruin my makeup, just enough to say I’m yours.

I pull back slowly and look her up and down one last time this close in private space.

She smirks, stepping closer again, just cause she knew what she was doing. “You sure you can walk away from me after that kiss?”

“I’ll try.”

And we kiss again. Quick. Soft. Charged like every second matters. Her hand stays on my waist a beat too long.

When we pull back, she exhales. “Go. I’ll be down in a sec.”

I’m the first to walk back out. As I make my way through the venue, I spot Paige’s table near the center — her mom is mid-laugh, her dad standing behind his chair, and Azzi is already seated next to an open chair — Paige’s.

I walk up like I’ve done a dozen times before.

“Hi, Mama,” I smile, giving her a quick hug. “Hi, Mr. B.”

He pulls me into a warm hug. “Wow, you’re all grown up. I’m so proud of you, Y/n, I really am. You did great kiddo.”

They both beam like I’m family. Like I’ve always been.

Azzi stands to hug me, warm and tight. “You’re beautiful,” she says in my ear, soft and honest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I wave at Coach Geno as I slip away to my own — where a custom basketball sits in the middle with my name on it, flanked by my family. I sit down, stealing one last glance across the venue.

That’s when Paige walks in again — new outfit, new vibe, same soul.

She catches my eye from across the floor and sends a quick, subtle wave.

I mouth, I see you.

And she mouths back, Always.

I tuck the smile into my cheek, turning just in time as the lights begin to dim very slightly, one the announcer’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. A hush of anticipation blankets the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2025 WNBA Draft.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[ruesol]

Nanami is in love with his best friend who saves him from a creepy woman. Honestly, I’m not sure what the plot is. I just wrote this because I was procrastinating my chem assignment.

Notes: reader referred to as wife

main masterlist

Nanami Kento didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Maybe it was when you giggled and pulled him out of the house to jump around in the rain with you. Or was it when you fell asleep on his shoulder after a long workday?

He didn’t know that you found so much solace in him. 

His breathing was shallow as he watched you prance around your shared kitchen, singing a generic pop song about… love, was it? Or heartache. He didn’t know or care; all he knew was that you were wearing his shirt like it belonged to you- like he didn’t spend his hard-earned money to buy something for work, and you just plucked it out of the laundry room like it had your name on it.

He half expected you to be all bashful once you turned around and saw him, but no, you just pointed the whisk you used to mix your pancake batter at him and began lip-syncing the song's lyrics to him. He scoffed as he walked around the kitchen island and held on to your waist. Your singing slowed down as his grip tightened on you.

“What? You were hogging up the space in front of the coffee machine. Don’t stop on my account,” Nanami nonchalantly said as he dragged you away from the coffee station. Bewildered, you went back to singing again, facing away from him as you looked for cinnamon in the spice cabinet. 

Nanami bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed your ears looked redder than usual.

It all felt oddly domestic. Your work shoes were strewn by the door, he was comfortable with his hair being disheveled, your unapologetically tone-deaf singing, and of course, the fact that you were making breakfast for him unprompted. 

‘I could live like this forever,’ the blond thought. Of course, minus the whole best-friends-who-live-together-and-aren’t-in-a-romantic-relationship situation.

But was confessing to you a good idea? What if you both broke up and never wanted to see each other again? What would happen to your living arrangement then? He can’t handle not seeing you for a day. It would be horrible for his sanity. 

But then again, you both have been friends for so long that it only felt natural to be with each other all the time.

He ignored his heart, screaming at him to confess to you. The man was clearly too far gone; if he spent another day in your presence, he would surely go mad. In love and in vain.

He ignored his thoughts when he saw you accidentally pick up his cup and place your lips exactly where his were a few seconds ago. You scrunched your nose, and it took everything in him not to kiss it. “Dear God, this is bitter. I’m sorry, Ken, but I will never enjoy your tastes in food.” 

Ken

He could hear you say that all day, all night, and in his dreams. Fuck, weren’t you a magnetic being?

He ignored his heart while brushing his teeth later that night. He put his hand on his chest and rubbed it when he saw your toothpaste next to his. Yours was pink, and his was blue. A silly little cliche among most couples. He looked at the shower shelf in the bathroom- you used the same body wash as him because you said men’s shower gels smelled better. He simply complied and brought you a few bottles because it gave him the illusion that you had slept in his bed. 

The two of you were polar opposites. He preferred a quiet night in, while you’d take advantage of your weekends and go out with friends. You hated cooking while he cooked elaborate recipes for fun. You were very outdoorsy while he preferred to use his treadmill.

There were so many differences, but you both complemented one another so well. So much that it confused mutual friends. People often asked why you both weren't a couple instead of if you were one.

He would also ignore his heart when it thrilled him to see men walk away from you as soon as he was in your space, hands naturally sitting on your waist while you whined about being single. ‘I’m right here!’ he wanted to scream. ‘Look at me!’

But his heart reached its wits end when you pretended to be his wife to protect him from an uncomfortably touchy woman.

Nanami is a simple man; he gets excited when he hears about food. Especially when it has to do with trying new dishes. So it was only natural that he dragged you to a global food festival in the city. It was pleasantly warm in the outdoor space for a cold winter night, thanks to all the cooking going on in the stands. You were a little overstimulated by all the smells, but the excitement on Nanami’s face was well worth the temporary discomfort. By now, you both had traveled to France, Turkey, and India via flavors alone.

The bar at the food stand you both were eating was getting increasingly crowded by the second, so it was only natural that there would be some unintentional physical contact with strangers. Nanami wrapped his arm around you to prevent the old man beside you from rubbing all his nauseating cologne over you. You ignored the way your body fit right next to his. And dare you say- like a puzzle piece with the silhouette of your breasts pressing up right beneath his pecs. 

You both decided to share a bowl of spicy noodle soup, but you couldn’t handle the prickly taste of peppers on your tongue. “I’m gonna grab something sweet. You want anything?” 

Nanami missed your warmth as you climbed out of the booth’s eating bench. “I’m alright, I’ll wait for you.” 

You also needed a few minutes away from him so your body could catch a break. The rush of adrenaline you’d get when he’d touch you was unlike any other.

He didn’t touch his noodle soup in your absence. It felt tasteless to him without you pressed up next to him. 

He continued his wallowing while staring at the bowl of soup until he felt someone slide in next to him. Excited, he turned around only to be met with a stranger. “Oh my, I really want to try the spicy noodle soup, but I’m scared it’ll be too painful.” 

“I’m sure the owner can give you a sample, and this seat is taken, so I’m gonna have to ask you to move to another place.” 

The insistent woman placed her manicured hand on his bicep, and Nananmi’s posture stiffened. “Oh, come on, I’ll just take a sip from you- I mean, your bowl, and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

This was turning into sexual harassment, and he was about to pull out his sanitizer spray to put her in her place until he heard a familiar voice. “Hey, lady! Leave him alone.” He let out a breath of relief when you arrived, ice cream in hand. 

“I can do whatever I want; it’s a free country,” she sulked.

“So can he, and he asked you to leave him alone,” you argued back. 

“Who even are you?”

“His wife.” Nanami’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. By now, the people at the booth had turned towards the three of you to observe the spectacle. Before the creep could counter your answer or ask you for proof, the booth’s owner spoke up. “Hey, you buyin’ or not? I have customers waitin’ who actually wanna eat!” 

The lady quickly tucked her tail between her legs and briskly walked out of the area. Never to be seen again. “Fucking hell, some people really need to learn about consent. You okay?” Nanami wanted to reply to you, but no words came out of his mouth. 

You had basically declared to the world that you were his wife. Well, not the world, but all eight people in the booth (excluding you two) believed that you were his wife! It probably meant nothing to them, but to him it was like you had hung the stars in the sky. 

“Ken?” 

Ugh, you said it again. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” His eyes simply couldn’t look away from your spice-swollen lips. If you’re his pretend wife, then it’s okay for him to kiss you, right? 

He mentally slapped himself at that thought. If he was going to kiss you then it was going to be the real deal.

—

Honestly, I like it when reader protects the character. Like yes, come here, my 6’4 baby girl, I’ll beat that person up for you.