#my opinion of her sinks lower than I thought possible

[tim-hoe-wan]

People who didn’t see that Taylor is not a good person until now have super weak bullshit sensors. Only a real loser who is secretly a mean person could write a song like You Belong with Me.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Perfect (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Someone has an opinion on your relationship with Alex

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none

Alex bowed her head towards you, soft hair brushing over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You sighed, almost missing the words she was speaking, caught up in how beautiful she looked. Her smile told you she knew exactly what was going through your brain. Your eyes drifted down to her lip.

“Honey?”

You hummed, drifting closer to her.

“You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?” she said, chuckling quietly.

“Sure I did,” you replied, “something about jellyfish.”

Her lips were so pink, practically begging you to kiss her as her smile only grew fonder. There was nothing more beautiful than her, no person nearly so captivating. You yearned for her more than you’d ever thought was possible.

“Not quite,” she said, biting down on her lower lip.

You shifted closer, despite not needing too. The room wasn’t crowded and it wasn’t too loud to hear her. All you wanted was to be as close to her as you could be. To feel the heat from her body, the brush of her fingers, her breath ghosting over your skin. You wanted it all, like a greedy child let loose in a candy store.

“No, no, you definitely said something about a jellyfish,” you said.

“I really didn’t, sweetheart.”

You watched her finger tuck hair behind her ear, practically able to feel that same finger trailing down your spine. You knew the feeling of her touch better than your own name by this point.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” she murmured.

“Like what?” You looked at her from under lowered eyelashes.

“Like you’re hoping I’m about to devour you right here,” she replied, looking you straight in the eye.

“But I am hoping that,” you said, pouting when she didn’t immediately do just that to you.

“Darling girl,” she said, a note of warning in her voice, “we’re not giving the other patrons of this coffee shop a show.”

“So take me somewhere else.” You shrugged. You weren’t picky where she took you.

“You’re pushing it.”

There was still a warning tone in her voice but the hand she placed on the back of your neck pulled you in. You melted against her, sighing into her mouth. You would never grow tired of her kisses, sinking in to her until you didn’t know where you ended she began. Your hand landed on her knee, fingers digging in when you tasted her tongue.

“I’m going to get a refill,” she said when she drew back, not caring she’d reduced you to a melted puddle of goo.

You stared down into your dregs of coffee left in the bottom of your mug, doing your best to catch your breath. It couldn’t be normal, your reaction to her. It was overwhelming, the way the simplest things could leave you breathless and wanting. Just watching her teach was a lesson in seduction according to your mind.

“She’s way too old for you.”

“What?” You looked up, still in a haze of the taste of Alex on your lips.

A woman, not much older than you, had taken the seat across the table from you. You wrinkled your nose, knowing it was rude, but not overly caring. You hadn’t asked her to join you. You wished she hadn’t.

“Doctor Blake, she’s way too old for you,” she said, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder.

You glanced over, finding Alex standing at the counter, money in hand. Her eyes flickered over to you before landed on the woman across from you, her expression slipping into confusion. You turned back to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

“The two of you were putting on quite a show,” she said, flashing you a white smile, with perfect straight teeth, “you must make her feel young again.”

“Can I help you with something?” you asked, finding her vaguely familiar.

“I just think it would make sense for you to be with someone more your own age,” she said, eyes widening as if you’d offended her.

“I didn’t know I was taking constructive criticism on my relationship,” you replied.

Your eyes darted up again and you found Alex standing at the counter, waiting for her order, arms crossed, long fingers tapping against her arm. Her gaze had darkened but softened when she saw you looking at her. That was one of the things you loved most, the way she changed when she realised you were there.

“I mean, she can’t really be giving you everything you want, right? Like you can’t have that much in common. And you know she’s going to die way before you,” the girl said, stealing your attention again.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you replied.

“Look, I like Doctor Blake. I do. She’s brilliant, obviously. But you’re like the age of her students. So you know she’s only interested in you because you’re young and hot,” she said, eyes sweeping over you, “if you’re okay with that then that’s fine, but if you want something deeper maybe you should look for someone closer to your own age.”

“I’m perfectly happy in my relationship,” you said.

“And that’s fine. I just think you should know that some of us are losing respect for her for whatever midlife crisis this is,” she said.

“I don’t think her personal life has any bearing on her professional life,” you said, “or rather, I don’t think it should.”

“Well, sure, in an ideal world but you know what it’s like being a woman,” she said, leaning forward over the table.

“So I’d expect you to be kinder to women, so we don’t fall into the same judgmental patterns as men,” you said, also leaning over, “although maybe this isn’t about respect because of my relationship.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You always sit in the front row of her classes. You try to answer every question she asks. You want her attention,” you said, lowering your voice, “it’s got nothing to do with her being older than me, does it? Not when you’d be okay with it if it was you she was dating.”

“What?” She reeled back as if you’d slapped her.

“I know it’s hard to see someone you have a crush on have feelings for someone else,” you said, “but she’s your professor. Crushes like this pass. All of mine did.”

“How dare you?” She stood up, shoving the chair away with a loud scraping noise.

You could see Alex walking back over, two mugs in hand, a look of concern on her face. Her step hurried, and you felt the vice around your heart begin to loosen. The girl above you was glaring down, blue eyes flashing.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she hissed, leaning over the table to get in your face.

“I don’t have to. I know the allure Alex has. And I didn’t ask to have this discussion with you. You chose to comment on my relationship. It’s not my fault you don’t like the outcome,” you said, “but at least I understand your feelings. I know I’d be upset if Alex didn’t love me back.”

“Candace,” Alex said, appearing over her shoulder, “I hope you’ve done the reading for class tomorrow.”

The blonde, Candace, whirled around, eyes growing wide and mouth falling open. You let your eyes swoop over Alex, biting down on your bottom lip. Her lip shifted, just slightly, and you knew she’d noticed. But the way her gaze hardened as it landed on the other girl had you shifting in your seat.

“Of course, Doctor Blake,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

“Was there something in it that confused you?” Alex asked, and you could hear that she was enjoying putting this girl in her place.

“No, Doctor Blake,” she said, fingers beginning to twirl her hair.

“Then I can see no possible reason for you to be interrupting my date,” she said.

“Right, yes, of course,” she said, “sorry.”

“Luckily for you, our plans have changed. You keep the table and the drinks.”

She placed the mugs down on the table and stepped around, holding a hand out for you. You took it, letting her pull you up from the table, hand easily sliding around your waist to rest on your hip. She lent down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips, stealing your breath.

“I believe you mentioned something about devouring,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head, “uh huh.”

“Then I suppose I’d better take you somewhere else.”

She turned back to Candace.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, practically dragging her out onto the street. She was laughing, low and throaty, and it was making your skin tingle. She held the car door open for you, the warmth in your heart like molten lava.

“So what were you talking to my student about?” she asked, the casualness catching you off guard.

“She had some opinions about our relationship,” you replied, “how many of your students have crushes on you?’

“Twelve.” Her eyes darted over to you before focusing on the road, “jealous, sweetheart?”

“Only because they’re able to watch you teach every week,” you said with a shrug, “if you’d been my professor that number would have been thirteen.”

“Lucky number thirteen,” she hummed, “Candace was trying to warn you off, then?”

“I suppose she thought she could get to me,” you said as her hand slipped onto your thigh, “she was wrong.”

“How did she think she was going to do that?” she asked.

“It’s not important.” You shook your head.

“How?”

You sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“She said you were too old for me. Called our relationship a midlife crisis.”

“And what do you think?” Her voice was being too careful and she was staring at the road.

“I think we’re perfect the way we are,” you replied, “and I wouldn’t change anything about you. I’ve never been happier than I am with you.”

Her eyes darted to you then back to the road again. You threaded your fingers through hers, still resting on your thigh. She gave them a squeeze.

“But do you know what I’m more interested in than your student?” you asked.

“What, sweetheart?”

“All the ways you’re going to devour me when we get home,” you said.

Her fingers tightened and her eyes darkness.

“Oh, my darling girl. I hope you didn’t have plans this evening. You’re going to be busy until tomorrow.”

Tags: @trippol-threat​​​ @theclassicgaycousin​​​ @prentiss-theorem​​​ @nightmarish-fae​​​ @storiesofsvu​​​ @rustyzebra​​​

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 6.5

based on the netflix series by the same name

a/n: honestly this has been really cathartic for me to write because in my mind, the reader is harboring so much anger that it shuts her down and i went through something similar last year where I just retreated into myself and it was a dark place to be. So of course I cried writing this. And I never really liked ACOSF but Nesta's arc has always been compelling because i hold on to anger and forgiveness does not come naturally to me. So yeah, enjoy, hopefully.

warnings: angsty, drinking, sad

word count: 800

Masterlist

Winter Solstice was alright in your opinion. Not your favorite holiday, but it wasn’t the worst day of the year. Nesta had reluctantly accepted Feyre’s invitation to the Townhouse but you told her you’d visit Bec, who had been begging you to see you for months now. You were dressed in a coat, mittens and boots and stood in front of the door of your, let's be honest, run down apartment. 

You didn’t want to go out. Didn’t want to see your friends’ faces when they looked at you. So you stood by the door for a while, until it got too late to leave, by the time you’d arrive the festivities would be over. 

Sighing, you threw off the coat and mittens, opting to flop down on the couch. Nesta said she’d come by when she was done with the Inner Circle. You refused to acknowledge the clawing in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss your friends, you did. But the anger you felt was all consuming. There they were, carrying on like usual and you were still there. Still in the war camps. Praying to the Mother to help you save as many lives as possible. Still stuck in your little cabin with Lenus. It was like having a bloodhound constantly chasing you, never stopping. The memories, the vivid images would come from the very back of your mind and sink  their jagged teeth into your flesh. 

Without looking you knew the cabinets were empty. The last bottle of wine was somewhere in the bathroom, you’d finished it while getting ready to head out. 

There was a knock at the door. It was past midnight, Nesta lasted longer than you thought she would. Though, you hoped she had spoken with her sisters. You get up “finally, let's go to Jax’s, I’m out of booze.” You grab her hand and walk with her out of the building. “How was it?” 

“Fine, how was Bec’s” 

“Didn’t go.” 

“Why?” 

“Just couldn’t.” Once at the club you sat down in your usual booth. “The band they have tonight is good.” Music filled the space and you were immediately transported to all the nights spent at Rita’s. “I’ll go get us drinks.” 

When you returned to the booth you found that Nesta had taken to the dance floor so you joined her. The club was not packed as usual so you two could dance freely without worrying about bumping into strangers. It was always freeing. Dancing with Nesta, the tingle on your skin from the liquor, multicolor faelights lighting up the space and the music thumping in your chest. Cold hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you back into a male body. You complied and danced against him, reveling in the feel of skin against skin. 

The band finished its set and the male you were dancing with still held your hand.  “Wanna keep the party going?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded, biting your lower lip. “Nes, we’re gonna head out.” She was standing by the bar talking with Jax and before you turned to leave she grabbed your arm. “Here,” she pulled a small box and envelope from one of her coat pockets. 

“What 's this?” But she was too involved in her conversation and your companion was too eager to leave so you didn’t get your answer until you got to the apartment. 

You excused yourself and went into your bedroom and immediately pulled out the little box. It was wrapped in pretty blue paper that you couldn’t appreciate at the club. Carefully, you unwrapped and opened it. There was a piece of paper folded neatly, your name scrawled on it in beautiful writing. Something soured in your throat. Taking out the paper allowed you to see what was beneath. 

You set it down and read the letter, hoping for an explanation. 

“Happy Winter Solstice, in. This is supposed to stay put all day, hope you like it. I miss you.”

“I’m this close to cutting my hair off” you told Azriel, exasperated because your locks kept getting in the way of you inspecting his stitches. “Don’t you have something to tie your hair with?”

“Yeah but they always slip and just cause more problems.” 

Inside the box was a cobalt blue ribbon. 

“I changed my mind, get out.”

“Baby don’t be like that.” 

“Get out!” You forced him up from the couch and shoved him out the door, slamming it shut. Tears cascading down your cheeks the second you were alone. 

“She’ll come around eventually.” Bec said as she put an arm on Azriel’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know how to help her… she’s made herself a ghost.”

“I’ve known her for longer than you have, Az. She’s hurting… and it hurts to be pushed away by her. It’s like being on the dark side of the moon after a lifetime of sunshine. But she was the same when her parents died and… somehow she put herself back together.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“Just be there when she comes back.”

[ignitedbynatsu]

He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Jellal

A/N: I did Jellal as requested! Freed will be up next 🤩 Once again thank you all so much for the support. I love seeing people binge read the series it makes my heart swoon 🥺 ANyWaz if you have a request don’t hesitate to ask 🥰

warnings: insecurities (he makes you feel like you are stubborn and a know-it-all), cursing

genre: angst to fluff

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Cobra/Erik ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Freed ~ Sting ~ Rogue

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

"You shouldn't have gone" Jellal frowned as he saw you disinfecting the wound on your upper arm. It was nothing too serious, but you'd rather be safe than sorry later.

You jumped lightly by his sudden presence, making you press harder on the wound than necessary, a groan leaving your mouth soon after.

"I wanted too" you shrugged as you spared him a glance over your shoulder before tending back to the cut.

"I told you it wasn't safe" he crossed his arms, patience slowly running out.

"And I told you I could handle it" you bit back, wrapping the wound up, shielding it from the outside world in the progress.

"Look where that got you" he deadpanned at your carelessness.

"I'm fine, Jellal. It's only a small cut. You don't have to make a big deal out of it" you rolled your eyes as you stood up, finally facing him.

Frustration had clearly taken over his posture as his eyes narrowed at you "you always do this. You always go against my commands. You walk around all high and mighty like nothing can touch you, but guess what, love, I'm in charge here. You follow my rules. You obey my orders. If you can't do that then go somewhere else."

Normally your heart would have stopped at the sound of him using a pet name for you, but not this time. Not when it was used with that much coldness, it nearly sends shivers down your spine.

"If you wanted someone to blindly obey you, you should've gotten a dog" you replied with the same coldness he just used as you walked away from him and towards where Meredy was seated.

"Are you okay?" she gave you a soft smile as you let out a frustrated sigh while sitting next to her on the ground.

"Sometimes I really wonder why he hired me as a spy. It's like he didn't like me from the moment we first meet." You mumbled as you rubbed your hands over your face "he never gives anyone of you any shit for the things you do, so why does he always have to scold me?"

Meredy stayed quiet at your rant, knowing damn well why he chose you as his spy and not anyone else, but she knew that if she told you the truth right now, you'd just laugh at it. "Maybe you should talk with him about it"

"No he always says I'm stubborn when I talk back..." you trailed off, realization dawning on you.

Is that why he didn't like you? You were always more vocal about your opinion than others, but you never really saw it as an issue. The more you thought about it, the more you realized he was right. You always fought him on his opinion, never giving in, not even when you knew you were in the wrong.

You always thought of yourself as a strong independent individual, but now you realized how annoying you must've come across for some people.

You frowned at your newfound information. Everyone probably thought of you as a know-it-all, and you hated it.

"Listen up everyone. Thanks to (Y/N) information, we found our next location. Get ready, we're leaving as soon as possible" Jellal announced. He was waiting for you to object by saying something like you should be waiting 'till morning, so everyone was well-rested, but it never came.

Everyone's head turned to look at you in confusion by your lack of vocalizing your opinion.

You were just silently staring at the ground, not even noticing everyone's eyes were facing you, as you recollect all of your memories of the time you were being stubborn. You cringed at the flashback, wishing you would have shut your mouth from time to time.

Everyone started to get ready to leave once they realized you weren't gonna say anything. Meredy softly hit you in the ribs to snap you out of your mental prison.

You smiled softly at her, before getting ready as well.

Jellal's eyes never left your body. Sure he just scolded you for always going in against his commands, but he didn't think you'd listen. You never listened, so what changed?

You ventured in the direction of the next rogue dark guild and set camp again at a safe distance.

"So what's the plan?" Meredy asked as she just finished setting up her tent.

"We need to find out with how many they are and the entrance to the guild" Jellal replied as he looked at a map. He had marked the place of the guild with a red circle and was now observing the surroundings to see if they were in your favor.

"I could always go scout" you suggested.

"No, it's too dangerous. They're already on high alert after they caught you spying on them yesterday" he shot your request down.

You bit your tongue in an attempt to stop you from protesting and just nodded instead.

Jellal looked up at you and frowned when he didn't hear anything from you. By now you'd usually come up with a clever way to get around the obstacle, but this time no words left your mouth. Not even a dissatisfied noise. It was pure radio silence.

The blue-haired mage did not know how to react. On one side he was relieved because he wouldn't have to worry you getting hurt again, but on the other side, he missed the little quarrel you two had when you went against him.

He didn't actually mind that you always had such a strong opinion. It challenged him to make his plans more thorough.

By nightfall, you had hardly said a word to anyone. You did not speak unless spoken to. You didn't even react to certain things everyone knew you had an opinion on.

Everyone had gone to sleep except you. It was common for you to be the last one awake, you liked the silence the night gave you. However, this time you cursed yourself for having such a messed up sleeping schedule as the silence was deafening. You were once again trapped in your mental prison, only this time there was no one to help you escape, or so you thought.

"It's a beautiful night tonight," Jellal said softly as he took a seat next to you in front of the crackling fire.

Your head snapped up at him, not expecting he was still awake, but his eyes were cast upwards, looking at the clear sky that held so many stars and secrets.

"Yeah" you mumbled as you shifted your eyes from his face to look up as well.

It wasn't the first time you had stargazed together. You loved doing it when you were welcomed by the silence of the night. Jellal joined you from time to time when he knew you all had an off day the next day.

His gaze landed on you as you looked at the distance lights that resembled stars. An idea popped up in his head "look it's the Ursa Major"

He pointed at somewhere completely different, making you frown. You quickly covered it up with a smile "yeah"

"Okay, stop it," Jellal said, his eyes already trained on you when you snapped your attention towards him at his sudden outburst.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"You know damn well what I mean" He replied "you knew that constellation was not the Ursa Major, we've been stargazing for months"

"Must have mistaken the one you were pointing at" you mumbled in response as you broke eye contact to look at the campfire instead.

"No you didn't" he sighed, his eyes also shifting from you to the fire "why aren't you voicing your opinion."

"I thought you didn't like it when I went against you?" You frowned. "Isn't that why you don't like me in the first place"

This time it was his turn to frown as the words left your lips. Did you really think he didn't like you? "Of course I like you"

You scoffed at his response "Really? Cause no matter what I do, I always seem to disappoint you. You never complain when the others do something wrong so why do you only give me crap?"

"It's because I like you," he said as his gaze shifted once again to look at you.

You laughed dryly at that, but he wasn't having it "(Y/N), look at me" you obeyed and locked eye contact with him "I really like you"

"No, you don't" you whispered as he slowly inched closer, his eyes flickering to your lips for a mere second before looking back at your eyes.

"But I do" he whispered back "tell me when to stop"

You didn't say anything as his lips grazed yours. You closed the gap in anticipation as your hands immediately found your way to his hair.

His hand softly cupped your cheek, while the other one was on your lower back.

Your lips moved perfectly in sink as his tongue softly grazing against your bottom lip, asking permission to enter which you granted.

You gasped as he explored your mouth and pulled you closer, so you were now in his lap, both legs on either side of his.

If he hadn't pulled apart, you for sure would've forgotten to breathe, already addicted to the sweet taste of his lips.

Your foreheads were pressed together as you both breathed heavily. His eyes were closed while you admired the man in front of you.

"I really really like you. I'm sorry if I made you feel like your opinion wasn't validated. I only scold you because I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you" he whispered as he slowly lifted his eyelids to look at you. "I really am sorry for making you feel like I didn't like you"

"I forgive you" you whispered back as you pecked him softly on the lips.

"Great now that's cleared, can you guys go fuck somewhere else? People are trying to sleep over here" Cobra spoke up, startling you both. A pink tone crossed your cheeks as Jellal chuckled softly, careful not to wake the others up.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck "I hate you"

He pulled you closer as he laid a hand on the back of your head "no you don't"

"Yeah, you're right"

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 2/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 2/3 WORD COUNT: 8600+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | some mentions of death | mild sexual content SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

You got up really early despite staying up late and only getting five hours of sleep max, but once you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed so you prepared for the day, waiting for Sukuna’s call. You went to the patio which faced the backyard, carried a small blanket and brought your battered copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s prose collection with you.

A few hour later, you heard stirring in the house and it wasn’t long before Satoru found you. He sat on the lounge chair opposite yours and just stared at you through sleepy eyes. He looked all disheveled, eyes bloodshot and yawning several times. He really couldn’t handle his alcohol and when he wakes up after drinking more than he could take, he always ends up befuddled and unable to make sense of his surroundings, not to mention irritable.

When he just sat there without saying anything and staring at you, you snapped your book close. “What is it?”

He snapped out of a seeming trance. “Oh. You have a guest.”

“Huh?”

“Ieiri said it’s Howard.” He yawned again, stretching his arms.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes, him.”

You scrambled off the lounge chair, nearly knocking it to the side with your weight as you half crawled, half-ran towards the door, suddenly remembering your agreement the previous night. You were mentally slapping yourself as you made your way into the hallway, planning to go up to your room to have a change of clothes. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do because he did not exactly specify that bit.

However, your plans did not come into fruition when you passed by the lattice wood and glass partition between the kitchen and the hallway and saw him.

“Y/N!” Ieiri pretty much yelled your name out, calling your attention and making you jump, startled. “Howard’s here.”

Sukuna glanced at her momentarily, probably catching the name she referred to him with.

The protest died in your throat when you saw Sukuna standing by the counter, looking so out of place in such a domestic setting although he was dressed casually in a black tee with a wide collar that exposed his collarbones for the world to see and faded jeans, similar to the one he wore that time he came to your school.

You grimaced at the realization that you were just standing there like an oaf, checking him out. It was evident in the way his smile morphed into a shy one as he bit his lower lip while Ieiri and Suguru grinned evilly at you. Feigning ignorance to their reactions, you entered the kitchen, brows knit together, shooting Ieiri an inquisitorial look after nodding at Sukuna’s direction. It was a dumb way of greeting people, but that was about what you could manage with the way your brain was being fried at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t know we received guests in the kitchen now,” you commented, noticing the number of grocery bags on the counter. “You did the shopping?”

“I did,” Sukuna answered you. “I told you I was going to do something for you.”

“'You' being the technical term,” you said with a smirk when you realized what he was planning. “So you’re gonna cook for me?”

“Yes.”

You eyed your two friends who were eyeing Sukuna in anticipation. “Just me?”

“Stingy,” Ieiri commented, pouting.

Woman, you thought, eyeing her sternly in case she had plans to say something embarrassing. You spoke before she could say more, approaching Sukuna who was suddenly just looking at you, your eyes in particular. Out of a sudden, he reached out and touched the spot just under your left eye, making you step back at the sudden contact. He was touchy, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to be so candid in front of your friends on such a setting.

“Your eyes are swollen. Is something the matter?”

You smiled at him then, shaking your head. “I didn’t sleep enough last night.” You busied yourself by checking the things he bought. “So…” You looked at his pretty hands then at him. “The Spring God can cook?”

He gave you a funny look at the nickname you gave him. “Watch the Kitchen God work!” He chuckled then turned his attention to Ieiri. “I was just asking Ieiri if I could borrow the kitchen.”

“It’s more Suguru’s kitchen than hers,” you sniped at her who was now sitting on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm as she looked at the pair of you as if she was watching a really cheesy romance drama.

“Then it’s settled. I have to cook for them, too.” He ruffled your hair then. “Mind helping me?”

“I’ll leave you kids then,” she said sounding like a mom, leaving the kitchen and blocking Satoru’s progress when he was about to enter, leading him out into the living room much to the latter’s annoyance.

You shook your head, snickering. You really couldn’t wrap yourself around the fact that Sukuna could cook. “Should I get you an apron, chef?” you asked, meaning to taunt him, but then he took out a rolled-out piece of black cloth from a black case he brought along with the groceries and said, “I brought my own.”

Knowing that you can’t say anything else to annoy him about cooking, you started sorting out the things he brought, taking them out of the bags and fixing them in an organized way on the counter while he proceeded to take the foodstuff to the sink. All the while, you were watching him as he cleaned everything, his dexterous hands moving with precision and unmistakable expertise.

After fixing everything and putting away the bags, you stood beside him on the sink. “You do this a lot?”

“Pretty much.”

It was fascinating to watch him work so you didn’t say anything else until he took the case again and produced a professional-looking set of knives with customized handles. “Okay, now I’m scared.” You arched a brow at him. “Why the hell do you have a knife set?”

“I love to cook,” he answered, laughing slightly without taking his eyes from what he was doing.

“I figured, but I thought, you know just cooking at home, following online recipes and stuff like that.”

At that, he laughed. “Those recipes don’t work half the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his sentiment but then you saw how he was cutting the ingredients on the chopping board like a pro. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“Now I mind assisting you. I refuse.” You felt a bit miffed about his mad skills in the kitchen, and you knew it would be foolish to even question how his dish, or dishes rather, was going to turn out. It got you thinking about every other thing he can possibly do, and you found yourself falling deeper. “I’m shit in the kitchen. You can have Suguru to help you.”

“But I already asked him for help yesterday to plan all this.”

“Did you now?” Your eyes flicked over to the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room and glared at your friend, remembering your conversation with him. He threw you a rueful smile.

Sukuna pouted. “You can’t take it back. Surely, you can chop onions.”

“I guess.” You took out a knife from the rack and grabbed an onion. “How do you like it?”

“Minced.”

“Okay.” You started chopping the thing rather slowly, trying to be precise, but since you were taking too long, your eyes started watering before you could even get it halfway done. “Ah, shit!” you grumbled, putting the knife down rather harshly.

Sukuna laughed, turning you around so you were facing him. “Are you okay?” he asked in between laughter, wiping your tears away with some paper towels. “You were too slow.”

You screwed your eyes shut, still feeling the sting behind your eyelids. “Well, I don’t cook.” When you opened your eyes, you almost stopped breathing when you saw those dark orbs of his directly in front of you.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’re crying,” he cooed.

“Onion…” You took the paper towel from him and started wiping your eyes yourself, turning away from him when you saw the teasing beam on his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m cooking for you, and I’m annoying? Let’s see how that opinion changes once you taste this masterpiece.”

You did not say anything about the matter anymore and instead watched him work, handing him this and that and doing as he tells you. Sukuna was kinda scary to work with since he obviously had a fixed process about how things should be done, but at the same time, you found yourself mesmerized by his fluidity as he moved around as if he had been in the kitchen his whole life.

“What are you making anyway?” you asked as you were putting away the things he didn’t need anymore.

He looked over his shoulder as he stirred whatever he was making. “That’s a secret.”

You shrugged, looking into the pot. “Just tell me already.”

He placed his free arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, seemingly oblivious to the three pairs of eyes which looked towards the direction of the kitchen every so often, spying on the two of you. “Patience, sweetheart. You’re gonna spoil the surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whined.

He planted a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’ll see.”

By the time Sukuna was done, your dining room looked more like a five-star restaurant than that of one owned by four university students. Well, the table did. You weren’t really familiar with the dishes he prepared since he won’t tell you what they were. You only recognized the lobster thermidor, but all the others were a mystery.

Your friends were thrilled when they saw the table and you were just stunned. You pretty much just watched Sukuna, but he didn’t let you see what he was doing in the dining room, making you promise to sit down in the pantry while he prepared. He went overboard, but you loved it, too.

“I feel like I’m going to pay with all the contents of my bank account after this meal,” Suguru said as he sat down at the edge of the table, making Sukuna laugh.

You sat to his left while the chef sat beside you, explaining the dishes to you and the three other people with you with such technical terms, half of which you didn’t really understand. Suguru did though. Sukuna plated the first dish and offered it to them.

“I hope you would find them to your liking,” he said.

“Y/N’s grandpa would be super impressed if he was here to see this,” Ieiri asked.

You snorted. “Oh my god, Ieri, what are you being such a pain for?” You turned to Sukuna then who looked at you questioningly, but you pretended not to notice. “And you, chill and eat. They can get their own food.” He grinned at you but instead of serving food for himself, he started putting food on your plate. You watched him pointedly. “I can do that myself. Eat!”

“In a bit.” He finished by placing sauce on the lobster then smiled your way before getting food for himself.

“This is phenomenal cooking, man,” Satoru commented delightedly at the first bite, seemingly forgetting about his headache, and Suguru made a sound of approval, eating with gusto. “Will you cook for us every day?”

“Suguru!” you protested.

Sukuna laughed at that. “Maybe not every day.”

You shot him an annoyed look but ate as well. They were right. His cooking was beyond good. “On second thoughts, I don’t mind you cooking for us every day, too. This is totally great!”

“Told you.”

The meal was rather pleasant with your pals engaging Sukuna, obviously taken by him. The deal was sealed where he was concerned. You knew it had nothing to do with the food. They just liked him. He mostly conversed with them while you just pitched in once in a while, too busy eating. Besides, you wanted them to get to know him, too, and you were more than glad that Sukuna was making the effort to be acquainted to them.

After lunch, Suguru and Satoru volunteered to do the dishes, in a very good mood after the magical meal while Ieiri tidied up, leaving you and Sukuna alone. You decided to tour him around the house although there was nothing much to see, leading him into the upstairs hallways. Your house was quite big for only the four of you, but not stately or anything. It was just a normal house with too few inhabitants and too many rooms.

You walked towards the west hall. “Those are all guest rooms and those at the end of the hallway are Satoru and Suguru’s rooms.”

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

You cocked your head towards the east hallway, beckoning him to follow you as you led the way to said room, pointing out the other rooms you passed by, just three of them until you reached the last door. You pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

“Huge space,” he commented as he looked appraisingly around, his feet leading him to the large, framed posters of your favorite book-based films and games. “You are a nerd.”

You just watched him, leaning against one of your bookshelves as he ran a finger over your "Harry Potter" movie poster. “Guilty.”

Sukuna then went look at your book collection. “It’s not bad.”

“I’m a literature major. I think it makes sense.”

“Books and more books. How many of these have you actually read?” he asked, taking your volume of "Twelfth Night."

“All of them.”

He eyed you, evidently impressed. “Shakespeare?”

“Yeah. That’s basic in my field.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Beautiful, cultured and smart. I like it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” He returned the book on its place. “So, apart from literature, what else are you interested in?” He glanced at the glass case at the opposite end of the room where your scale-model figures and rows upon rows of console games were. “Well, apart from action figures and video games.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to be brooding over it. “Well, recently, I’ve just been interested in one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

He chuckled, pulling you towards him, the warmth of his hands burning through the fabric of your shirt, making you all giddy. “Alright, sweetheart. Your brutal frankness is really scaring me.”

“Door’s wide open. You can run.”

“You won’t chase after me?” he asked.

“You’re gonna wanna see me after anyway, so no.”

“Hey, that’s mean!” But then, he seemed to have thought of something. “Why does Ieiri call me ‘Howard’?”

You retreated from him and slumped down one of the beanbags while he sat on your swivel chair, turning it a hundred and eighty degrees repeatedly. “You caught that, huh?” You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled from your throat at his question. “I didn’t know your name the night we met but Satoru told them about you and I kinda just used the name to refer to you. You know, from the book I was reading at Maki’s.”

“The architect.”

“That one.”

“I see. I don’t mind then since you told me you’re in love with the character.” He winked at you. “But yeah, I was wondering if you enjoyed the meal at all. You haven’t said anything.”

“That speaks volumes of how much I enjoyed it.”

“I’m not really good at this whole impressing anybody thing, but I wanted to make the effort for you and your friends.” Sukuna sighed in relief. “I’ve only ever had one girlfriend after all, and I didn’t really do much in the relationship. And I never really went out with other women after that either save for some casual dates.” He smiled sheepishly at you, but he was confused at your reaction.

You just stared at him quizzically and in disbelief. There was no way you will ever believe that he only dated steadily once and didn’t go out that much to paint the town red. It was inconceivable for the obvious fact that he was so beautiful it was inhuman along with that great personality he has. Women will be lining up for him for sure.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

You shook your head, looking dubiously at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” He shook his head as if to punctuate his statement.

“Everywhere we go, girls look at you and you expect me to believe that crap?” Hell, you wanted to pounce on him more often than not.

His expressions turned smug. “You care enough to notice, I see.”

It was unbelievable but you had to take his word for it. “You don’t sleep around either?”

“No. It just isn’t my thing.”

You just stared at him, your lower lip jutting out, not in disbelief anymore but in wonder. He’s a sensitive soul, you’ve figured that out, but you didn’t know it ran deeper than what you’ve seen so far.

“Don’t look so sad there.”

“I’m not. I really just don’t see it happening.”

“Should I be flattered?” he asked, but before you could answer, he said, “How about you?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly thinking hard about what you’re going to say to him. You didn’t really have a good track record where dating seriously was concerned. It was just not your cup of tea. “I’ve never had an exclusive relationship...” you began, eyeing him cautiously, “…ever.”

“Never?” He seemed to be having difficulty processing that.

You shook your head, your gaze guarded as you tried to gauge his reaction to your revelation. Somehow, you did not expect him to ask about the matter, and when he did, you didn’t really have a clue as to how you would address it. You realized just how different you were from him on that department. He seemed to value the emotions that come with engaging in physical intimacy while you just didn’t care enough for anyone to notice it.

“Now you’re shitting me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned. “I think I mentioned this to you in passing the second time we met. I don’t date, at least not steadily.”

Sukuna obviously couldn’t wrap his head around the thought. “So you haven’t had a steady commitment with anyone?”

Again with the negative response. “Uh-uh.”

“Is it a matter of choice or is it a matter incapability, this I-don’t-date thing?”

“Both?” You shrugged, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “I don’t for the reason that I don’t want to make a steady commitment. I just don’t see myself being invested with such intensity in anyone in a romantic way.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I get sick of people I’m involved with. In that manner, at least.” You chuckled humorlessly. “So…yeah.”

“But you’ve dated, right?”

You nodded. “Openly, yes, but I don’t stay long enough to really get into the whole relationship thing.” Talking about it was excruciating. It wasn’t something you discussed even with your friends. Suguru thought of it as you playing the field, but really, you had issues with the prospect of staying in an established bond with one person for a long period of time. You didn’t really know what to do with the information although you understood the mechanics.

He frowned then, looking deeply troubled. “So, you don’t date?”

“I did not date.” You made sure to emphasize on the past tense, knowing well what he would be assuming. “'Did not' being the operative term.”

“And now?” he asked, standing up when you did, too.

You stepped towards him. “What do you want it to be? It doesn’t just depend on me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said patiently, coming to meet you halfway and cupping your face as he tilted his head down to look at you squarely in the eyes. “But I do want you for the long run.”

“For now, it’s just that you’re slowly changing my views about it,” you returned. “But I like you, Sukuna. And I care about you. A hell lot. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded.

You reached up, touching his face, running your finger over his jawline. “Can we work with that?”

He pressed his lips onto your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “Count on it.”

***

"How do I look?" you asked as you walked into the living room in the black, long-sleeved, backless, lace mini cocktail dress that Ieiri chose for you, your pencil heels of the same color clacking on the tiled flooring. You found your three friends lined up on the couch like expectant parents who were sending off their daughter to her first dance, making you laugh.

"Stunning!" Satoru complimented without hesitation, jumping up the couch to make his way to you. "Our daughter's grown up, Suguru."

"Last time I checked, I'm the only one who was raising her," the other male replied.

"You did a good job."

"I did a good job," Ieiri chimed in.

You shook your head, checking the contents of your clutch. It was hopeless trying to get a proper answer from them, but you needed their output since you were new to the whole dressing-up for dinner thing because you never really allowed anyone to wine-and-dine you; never wasted time and resources on anybody you knew you weren’t exactly interested in for the long run. Still, you were more than happy to say yes to Sukuna when he said he'll be taking you to dinner after your exams.

He's been hanging around you almost every day since he cooked lunch at your place, making good on his words to you where the status of your relationship was involved. He would either come see you in the morning before he went to work or meet you at night for a quick drink at Maki's pub. At times, he'd be dropping by at your school during his breaks. And on the previous weekend, he came over, satisfying himself by sitting quietly on the couch with you leaning against his chest while you studied, even going through lengths of helping you out. At some point, you gave up cause he was distracting you, telling you about his plans while playing with your hair.

"You're gonna cook for me," you assumed.

"No. I'm taking you to that fancy restaurant in town."

You agreed without protests even when he refused after you suggested to split the bill knowing how expensive the place could be. You didn’t want him to think you were mooching off him just because he was older and you’re a broke university student. He seemed excited about the whole thing, so you didn't argue further.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house, and you made your way to the door despite Ieiri's tirade about you supposedly making the man walk to your door and ringing the bell, probably make him wait, too. Knowing Sukuna, he'll do just that but you didn't want them to pull their antics while that cliché scene by the doorstep unfolded. But she beat you to it, running a lot faster than you to open the door when you were halfway through the short hallway. Just as you were afraid of, Satoru and Suguru were also standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Guys!" you growled.

"We just wanna see you off," Suguru whined just as Ieiri said, "Hi, Howard."

"Hi," Sukuna returned the greeting, even waving at the boys behind you, looking debonair in a smart-casual charcoal grey ensemble over black, collarless button-downs.

Your annoyance died down at the sight of him and you felt yourself melting when your eyes finally met and he beamed brightly as he took in your appearance, looking like he was seeing color for the first time.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded, stepping around Ieiri. "We're going" you told your friends, shooting them all warning looks before breaking into a nervous smile anyway as Sukuna led you away.

He opened the door to the passenger side of his... "Where's your Jeep?" you asked him, noticing the matte black sports car for the first time.

"At home," he told you. "I thought I'd switch it up for the occasion."

You shook your head as you climbed in, not really expecting him to go to that extent. You appreciated it but you weren't really high maintenance nor did you want the finer things. "So you just happened to have a Porsche 911 lying around?" you asked him when he finally made it to the driver's seat.

He nodded innocently. "I got it on a whim last year, but I decided it's too flashy so I had it stored at an exclusive garage and only took it out whenever I felt like it. I think this is a good time to take it for a spin."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He reached out to caress your cheek. "You're a vision, by the way."

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his gentle touch, but you held his hand in place as you faced him. "I could say the same for you."

"I always wear suits though," he said.

"Well, you're much too impatient with your blazers and you get rid of them when we meet," you began, "And you don't wear those for me."

He flashed you a cheeky grin. "Oh, so you want your men to dress for you?"

"Man, Sukuna. Singular."

It was his turn to blush. "I'm the only one, huh?"

You tilted your head to the side, smirking. "You wanna add someone else into the mix? I didn’t know you were into that."

He was flustered. "No?"

"If you have an exact replica, I wouldn't mind."

Sukuna burst out laughing. "You're crazy."

"It's your fault for hijacking my brain all the time."

Dinner had been great with the both of you pretty much making fun of the numerous silverware before you and making up stories of the haughty guests who came into the same fancy restaurant, some of whom were looking towards your direction.

"That one's a trophy wife," you told him, furtively glancing at the couple that entered. "She's all iced up but look at how her husband is interacting with the waitress."

"You can tell just by that?" he asked.

"I'm guessing they're regulars here and the waitress is one of those he is having an extramarital affair with just judging by the way she looked at him and how she's being all cozy with him." You chuckled. "Ah, now Mrs. X is unhappy. Pretty and bejeweled but very unhappy."

"What about that man there?" He mimicked the way you looked at the couple earlier, this time referring to that one by the glass walls at the corner.

"Oh that one? He's that demanding type who only wants to sit on his usual spot. He's hypochondriac. He's been wiping all the silverware."

Sukuna was obviously amused. "You observe people like this all the time?"

"I aspire to be a novelist if not a literature professor. I watch people to come up with stories, so it doesn't always mean what I'm saying about them is true. I just make it up as I go." You laughed. "But Suguru is a better writer than I am."

"Is he now?"

You nodded, eyes scanning the area. "That old lady is a rich widow who is keeping tradition alive."

He followed your line of vision. "Because she's wearing traditional garb?"

You shook your head. "Because she is alone with that sorrowful look on her face, and she has an extra serving of a meal across her which had been untouched since she ordered in. She's on a date with her dead husband. The empty seat is for him. It's their anniversary." You cocked your head towards the empty chair. "She placed that blazer on the backrest which is obviously not hers, and she just opened a wrapped-up present and made a show of presenting it to whoever should be seated there. Looked like men’s watch to me."

That same old woman stood by your table later in the evening to say, "You are a lovely couple. Cherish each other." And she also paid for a bottle of expensive wine which Sukuna asked to be wrapped for the two of you to take home.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he said as he drove you back to his place.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. "She was right, too," you murmured.

He blinked then looked at you. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

If you were impressed with the Porsche, his place was even more amazing. The whole place was in scales of black, white and gray but nothing was monotonous about the space. He toured you around the house and it looked uninhabited if it weren't for the signs of life around. But what caught your eye was the shelf full of music, all in vinyl with his gramophone plugged in to a modern sound system. He liked old stuff, his collection ranging from 1903s music to more modern ones here and there.

His living room was strategically placed by the glass walls, providing a view of the cityscape where you found yourself standing, in awe of the sights before you. Just then, the familiar bars of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" started playing in the background.

You were about to whirl around, but you felt him behind you, wrapping his arm around you as he made you face him. He extended a hand towards you then. You took it without hesitation although you didn't know what he was up to, surprised when he placed your arms on his shoulder while he held onto your waist.

"Dance with me," he said in a low tone as he pulled you closer.

You giggled at that, letting him slowly sway you to the beat while you just looked up at him, drowning in his eyes, his warmth and everything that was him. "I love this song."

He arched a brow at you. "You know Ben E. King?"

"I grew up listening to old music," you told him, nodding as you smiled fondly. "The perks of being a grandpa's girl. You get exposed to great music."

"The movie is my favorite, too."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

He threw his head back in mock annoyance. "Let me guess. It's your favorite, too?"

"Yes!" you squealed excitedly.

Sukuna clucked his tongue. "You make it hard for me to resist you when you have great music and movie tastes, too."

You looked away, swearing you were beet red now. You playfully smacked him on the chest. "Don't say things like that with a straight face."

His laughter reverberated on his chest when you leaned your forehead against it, hiding your face from him. "Now, you're getting all shy around me?" he teased.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pouting at him but having a hard time as you fought the smile that played at the corners of your mouth.

"Seriously though, Y/N, you don't run out of surprises for me." He leaned his forehead against yours. "Every time, you put something new on the list of things I like about you."

"You have a list?"

He nodded. "It's getting hard to keep up with how long it has become."

"Where does it begin?" you asked out of curiosity.

He raised a hand, his finger tracing the point between your eyebrows. "Your brows furrow just around here when you're concentrating. Just like that time I met you at Maki's."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It's impressive how you're caught in a world of your own even in such a busy, crowded place."

"I’m just good at ignoring people. But stopped reading the moment you sat beside me." You snickered. "You make it hard to focus, it's an insult to the author when her characters are all beyond just interesting."

"How was I even distracting you? You weren’t even looking at me."

"That's what you thought." You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's your hair at first, but then you also smelled too good to be true. That did it for me. And before I knew it, every word on the page I was reading became Cyrillic or something."

You didn't even realize that you've both come to a standstill, chuckling as you met his gaze again, only to feel his hand sliding behind your head, his fingers tangling with your hair as he dipped down and seized your lips, tilting his head slightly. It was a gentle kiss, his skilled lips light on yours, introducing his rhythm and flavor of mint mixed with the faint flavor of the wine you've both been drinking as you moved in sync with him.

It drove you crazy how his scent and taste filled every crevice of your being, desensitizing you while also pushing your senses on overdrive at the same time. The feel of his large hands as they secured you to him while his mouth did all the magic made your blood grow hot, the rush you felt inside consuming you. You visibly wobbled when he let go of you, making him look at you in amusement.

"Stay the night?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "I have a copy of our favorite movie. We can finish the wine that kind old lady gave us, and I'll make you pizza."

"You had me at our favorite movie," you said, still a bit dazed and drunk from the taste of him. "I'll stay."

**

Sukuna stood at the foot of his bed as he neatly placed everything you might need on it, running out of his unit to get stuff for you at the nearby convenience store. He glanced over at the door of the adjoining shower, smiling when he heard you humming. Well, he couldn't stop smiling all night seeing how beautiful you were in that black dress. He marveled at how you managed to be even more gorgeous when you were already driving him insane even when you wore sweats to school.

He found beauty in every little thing you did, feeling himself being overwhelmed with amazement even when you were just sitting there reading to how you spoke eloquently about things you were passionate about, the way you told the stories you made up despite how they leaned towards sad things. He found it attractive how you lacked complications and always gave him your honest opinions, how you tell him what was going on inside your mind without bars held.

He loved how kind and loving you are to your friends. It wasn't outward affection but he did notice the small things you did. How one word – "breathe" – would calm Satoru down, how one reassuring squeeze of the hand would pacify Ieiri and how a single look would convey your thoughts to Suguru. He would be jealous of it given any other circumstances, but you did so much more for him by just smiling and cheering him up when you sensed how tired he was from work which was often.

You were sensitive like that, appeared stronger and more resilient than you looked, but he and your friends couldn't help it but dote on you. It was kinda funny how they all referred to you as their daughter at first but when he found out they were doing that because they're the only family you had, he understood why. He understood why you tended to look at things the way you did. It only strengthened his urge to take care of you and protect you at all costs.

“Don’t give me that look,” you’ve told him then when he found out your grandfather, your only guardian and family, passed away three years ago, and you’ve only been living on the small fortune he bequeathed to you upon his death. Your parents were long dead, too, and you were basically alone in life.

He found it amazing that you could talk about the matter without being uncomfortable when he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be if he lost his mother at his age. He understood your independent nature, how you would give him funny looks whenever he volunteered to do something for you and why you were always so insistent on splitting the bill when you went out.

Still, when you said you didn't date steadily, it got him worried. Apart from the possibility that you might not stay with him for as long as he imagined – which made him afraid to breathe at times – he thought you might have issues from being alone too much; that maybe, the reason why you didn’t want to commit was because you didn’t want to open up only to be left alone again when things don’t work out. The way you spoke about the old woman at the restaurant and the way sadness crossed your features as you told him the story you’ve just made up sort of solidified his notions.

That’s exactly the reason why he was happy you weren’t pushing him away or refusing to stay with him. When you said you’ll stay the night, although he found joy in all the times you’ve been around him, he still felt unbelievably happy. Perhaps you were giving him a chance, giving whatever it is that’s between you the opportunity to blossom and just going with wherever and whatever it brings you. He liked that thought.

You came out of his room just as he was taking out the pizza he made, dressed in that oversized, white shirt he brought out for you, the collar askew on your shoulders. You walked into the kitchen running a towel on your hair, leaning on the counter. He almost dropped the pizza when he saw that you’ve forgone the sweats he’d given you, your legs bare from halfway down your thighs.

“I gave you pants, you know.”

You laughed at his words. “They’re too big for me. I returned them in your closet.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be finished here in a bit.”

You did as you were told, much to his relief but still went to the extent of getting you a blanket in case you wanted to cover up, not that he minded looking at your legs. Nevertheless, he preferred not to with all the thoughts running amok in his head. He wanted to take things slow with you even if you were proving to be his kryptonite. You thanked him for it, happily munching on the pizza he made as the movie started.

“I can’t believe that woman gave us this expensive wine,” you said as you took a sip from your glass.

“I can’t believe we’re having pizza with it,” he said as he sat at the other end of the couch. The two of you laughed at that, but then he stopped when you did, noticing how you were looking at him with a confused look on your face. “What is it?”

“Why are sitting so far away from me?” you demanded, but instead of him moving towards you, you crawled on the sofa closer to him.

Sukuna reveled in how naturally you took his arm and placed it on your shoulder, leaning against him before adjusting your position and covering the two of you with the blanket. He was glad your guard was down where he was concerned, the fact that you smelled like his shampoo and were wearing his clothes making him all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulled you closer to him, eyes trained on his massive flat screen.

“Sukuna…” you said a few moments later.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re too stiff.” You looked up at him, snickering. “I won’t steal your virtue if that’s what you’re scared of.”

He just laughed but it was taking everything he had in him not to do anything when you were tempting him in the most sinful ways, but he forgot all about that when your head lolled against his chest and found you sound asleep. You looked so serene that instead of taking you to bed, he sat there, cradling your form until the movie finished, his fingers playing with your hair.

Sukuna looked down at you, feeling like his chest was about to explode as he breathed in, realizing the depth of how much he felt for you, and although you couldn’t hear it, he said, “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

***

The crisp morning air blew past the open balcony doors, into the bedroom, rustling the white sheets on his bed that momentarily served as the sanctuary of a tangle of limbs and blankets, cradled by the softness of the mattress and feather-filled pillows. Even breaths rose and fell in sync, filling the wide room. Languid fingers twined with the silkiness of long locks of hair and smooth, bare skin. The bed creaks and Sukuna’s eyes open to the brightness of daylight.

He took in his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was the pressure on his leg, his left arm just by his shoulder and his chest along with the warmth that was coming from his side. His eyes wandered down to his body to the sheets barely reaching his waist, until finally he found the source of it all.

On his left side was none other than you, pressed to his side with no quantifiable distance separating your bodies but the measly fabric of the shirt you wore. Your hair fell on the pillows and his shoulder which was cushioning your head, your leg crooked across his thighs while your hand lay on his chest in a stagnant caress that suddenly made his whole body burn from the inside. Peering down, he noticed how your brows knit together in an unconscious frown while your thick lashes cast shadows below your closed eyes. Your long, lean legs were exposed to him up to your milky thighs as his shirt which you were wearing rode up, and he could only pray that you won’t move that limb any further or else…

Cursing at himself, he diverted his gaze and realized how his left hand had been running up and down your back. The feel of your warmth against the pads of his fingers sent him to the edge while your scent intoxicated him until he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was being shallow, but he couldn’t help it either. He was still human. Still, a smile made its way across his mouth. He was only able to think of the moment and how he wished to wake up to it every single morning of his existence. He decided to stay still and hold onto it while it lasted.

“Why are you so pretty?” he whispered, then pulled you closer while he closed his eyes, meaning to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he felt you stir against him, your leg moving upwards. In the process, said limb swept higher, touching that particular spot between his legs. The weight of your leg didn’t help with the carnal thoughts that were already running amok in his mind.

You suddenly moved, groaning as you shifted, the drawn-out sound doing things to him.

Sukuna’s eyes remained shut, fearing what might come next after you discover the compromising position you were in, but it didn’t come. Instead, you just very slightly distanced yourself from him, remaining within reach, but he was startled when he suddenly felt cold fingers brush across the skin just below his lower lip.

“If I were an artists, I would have painted you,” you said quietly while your fingers travelled lower. “Just look at that jaw line.”

Sukuna felt himself shiver when your other hand began working its way from his collarbones, going all the way down to where his chiseled stomach was. The titillating sensation filled his brain and before he knew it, his eyes were half open while his hand had already grabbed you by the wrist. His other arm worked to topple you over, back to the comfort of the pillows, while he rolled on top of you, staying still while completely rendering you motionless by pinning your arm down.

The reverberation of your chest against his whilst you chuckled albeit his weight sent him to the edge, almost falling off, but he held still and stopped himself from doing anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you whispered, tapping his back slightly.

He wondered whether you liked being there with him, too, or what. “L/N Y/N…What’s with the formality?” What, indeed? The two of you were in a very intimate position and yet he addressed you that way, sounding agonized even to himself. “Don’t do that.”

You scoffed good-naturedly. “Am I giving you strange feelings?” you questioned, ridiculing him early in the morning. “I knew you were pretending to be asleep. Men just can’t say no to a woman’s touch, huh?”

He supported his weight with his arm and drew himself up, the rest of his weight pushing down lower against you. He smirked then. “So you were also awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me hold you anyway?” he murmured, his face almost closing in on yours.

You ignored the tone in which he spoke and its implications. “I was just too lazy to move. Besides, I thought you were a pillow. You’re so warm.”

“That sounds fishy, Y/N.”

“And what’s fishy about that?”

He broke into that crooked grin, feeling his evil streak resurfacing. “Hmm. The fact that you’re liking this as much as I am.”

You removed your hand from his grip and lightly slid it down his inked rib, going lower as you traced the patterns of his tattoo, your eyes remaining on him, a sultry smile swathed across your lips.

A moan nearly escaped his parted mouth, but he wasn’t able to hold back the sudden closing of his eyes and slight parting of his mouth as your hand reached halfway down. “S-stop…”

Your hand stopped where his pelvis was, but your fingers continued to draw circles on his skin. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Sukuna panted and nodded at you feeling his hot blood rushing southward.

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, your eyes widening a bit in amusement while your leg kicked faintly underneath him, feeling something stiffen against your thigh. “Something else tells me you don’t,” you purred into his ear.

Sukuna bit his lower lip, peeking at you through half-lidded eyes. He knew you felt that and he was getting embarrassed with every second he stayed there. He knew your effect on him and you were more than just aware of it. You were even going to the extent of toying with him, making him feel like a goddamn teenager with raging hormones.

“You’re baiting me,” he played along, brushing your hair off of your neck and twirling the strands with his finger.

You smirked. “Am I?” you said slowly, hand sliding on the garter of his sweats. You withdrew your hand and rolled the two of you over despite his weight, turning tables on him. You touched the tip of his nose, taking in the disappointed look on his face all to your amusement before getting off.

“You’re funny, Sukuna.”

Your leg wasn’t even halfway off of him from where you were sitting astride his torso when Sukuna decided he was going to take his chances with making you succumb to him somehow and he finalized that by stopping you. Grabbing your waist, he rolled you over once more and without second thoughts, dipped his mouth against your, just pecking you on the mouth at first to see what you would do.

Too stunned to react, you were only able to stare at him, but Sukuna didn’t just stop there. He pressed his mouth against your sensuous lips in numerous fleeting touches until he felt you respond to it in the same gentle manner. Those small gestures, along with the closing of your eyes, ignited the fire that had been coursing through him until he thought he would explode if he didn’t comfort himself with the feel of you against him.

Unable to hold back anymore, he crashed your lips together in an urgent, scorching and passionate kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. You responded in kind, possessively holding onto his taut shoulders as he lifted you both in a sitting position so you were kneeling astride his lap. Sukuna pushed his fingers into your hair, holding you against him while his mouth moved downwards to your neck, seductively biting on your collarbone, marking his trail of fire up the columns of your throat before returning to your mouth.

Opposite to his aim to escalate the heat and passion, you placed both of your hands on either side of his head, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands and pulled away slightly, still with your foreheads against each other, hands intact on his shoulders and your waist, both panting for air.

You flashed him an apologetic smile, swallowing hard as you pulled back and sat down on the bed, looking down at your hands which you were wringing. Silence fell over the room and when you came to your senses again, you met his gaze.

His eyes rounded at the realization of what he just did. “I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “Sukuna, I…I shouldn’t have…”

He smiled at you then and pulled you close, giving you a soft peck on the forehead, eventually taking you into his arms, soothing your back as he embraced you. “That’s not it, sweetheart. I can’t keep my hands to myself even when you’re not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looked at you at arm’s length. “Don’t be.” You diverted your gaze, but Sukuna lifted your head with a finger, making you look at him, holding you in his gaze “I’m willing to take it slow if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Look, I just want to be sure about how I feel. I don’t want to be doing this half-baked because I don’t want to hurt you –”

He placed a finger against your lips, still raw from his kisses. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say just yet but he smiled slowly at you. “I’m willing to give you time, and for now, I just want us to stay like this. Is that okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

You found yourselves lying in bed until the sun was high in the sky and it was just too warm to stay there. Endless talks led to teasing which eventually led to laughter. He was glad that you were back to your carefree self again, even happier that you were considering his feelings.

“Should we get something to eat?” you suggested to him.

“Are you hungry?” Sukuna asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Sukuna chuckled. “Starving.” He stood up first and pulled you with him, leading you out of the room with a happy grin on his face. “Let’s make breakfast together?”

“Sure…” You beamed at him. “I’d like that.”

-end of part 2-

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210623]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[fleur2pint]

“We can take things slow”

pairing: narcissa malfoy x fem!reader

summary: the thought of a life with narcissa gets into the readers head so narcissa reassures them

warnings: mentions of smut

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: not my best workkkkkk but i wanted to get to a specific point so then i can carry on from there with this character! So consider this a bridge. not proofread!

Tension. That’s all you could really feel about the current situation of the home. Narcissa had served Lucius divorce papers a week ago and he still hadn’t signed them. “What about the family we built?” He would say, “What about our home?” The truth was Lucius wasn’t ready to give up the leisure of being married to someone in the Black family. Since he married her, all her family pass-downs went to him, so if they divorced, he would be left with his family money. And lord knows it wasn’t as much as Narcissa’s. It made you wonder how Draco felt. “Where would our son go?” Lucius would point out, “He needs his father.” “And he’ll have him!” Narcissa would explain. 

“Just because I want this doesn’t mean you won’t see him. It’s 50/50 custody.” She walked over to the small sofa Lucius was sitting on, the one he would sit on. “But at the same time, this is something you have to take up with Draco.” She paused, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. “You know, he’s old enough now to have opinions on us. I always was the one to be there for him. And where were you?” Lucius altered his gaze away from her. “Draco may be your child, our child, but I can’t guarantee you that he would want to bond with you. You may have messed up your chance. I know that’s not something you want to hear, but I’m just being honest.”

Over the next couple of weeks, you started to see less and less of Lucius. It didn’t alarm you since you knew what was going on, you were the first person she made aware of the situation for that matter. You knew deep down inside this wasn’t your fault. Yes, Narcissa wanted a real life with you in it for the long haul, but at the same time, divorce was major. If she wanted you she could have directly kicked him to the curb with no legal moves. But she wanted out. He never hurt her or anything like that, but when she talked about him to you it was like she was talking about a parasite. Something that she could never get off her. 

“Has your mom told you anything about your dad yet.?” You asked Draco while stuffing his pants drawer with fresh laundry. “No.” He said in a monotone voice. “Has she said anything to you?” You’re breath hitched at his question. “Nope.” He stared at you, knowing you were nervous about something. “Okay...?” He said as he got up and shuffle over to his desk to sit and watch you from a better view. You feel his eyes on you, painfully. “Look, I know about you and my mom.” He said, still keeping his eyes on you. “I won’t go into what I know, but I will say that she really likes you.” You turn to look at him. “Did she tell you?” He shook his head in response to your question. “The way she looks at you,” He stated, standing and walking over to his door. 

“I’ve never seen her look like someone like that. And the way she praises everything you do.” He walks out his door without giving you closure to think. You were in shock. You didn’t know how to feel, embarrassed maybe? Possibly angry? Scared? It was all a snowball rolling downhill and just getting bigger with one feeling, shame. Shame? Why shame? Draco knew, but that doesn’t mean he liked the idea. You couldn’t help but feel this was all your fault. And with that feeling, the mixture of shame and blame, you felt the tears that you desperately tried to hold back roll down your cheeks. 

Draco wasn’t much younger than you. When you had attended Hogwarts before you dropped out to work for his family, you had seen him around with his little friends. You saw him grow up from his first year to just ending his 4th year. In a way, he was like your brother. You guys talked from time to time when he came home for holidays, but during the summer is when your friendship usually spiked. Except for this summer for reasons that have just been discovered. You felt guilty for doing this to your friend, you couldn’t imagine how he felt. He didn’t seem bitter, he just looked confused. Why wouldn’t he be? You couldn’t blame him. But the thing that got to you was that there would be a day where you and Narcissa commit to each other in some way. And he would have to sit there and accept whether he supported it or not. Or the idea of your technically being his step-mom. The thought made you sick. 

You leave your thoughts in his room as you walked out the door to work elsewhere. Stepping down the stairs to go to the garden, you needed fresh air. At this point you let your emotions go, letting yourself openly cry for anyone to question. But you didn’t care. Just the thought of you and Narcissa being together forever made you the happiest but at the same time, you had to think of all the other things you had to face. Your parents. Your friends. Your future career. You were still so young, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to be with her. But when you think of her you can’t help but think of all the times she was there for you when no one else was.

You had known her for a couple of years, a little less than 2 of them being filled with your relationship. Not only did she supply you with what you wanted when it came to sexual gratification, but she cared for you. She has given you more than you could envision. All those late-night talks you two would have when she would slip into your room at midnight. Those pull-away tea times to understand each other. All the trips you and her went on, finally getting to feel like a normal couple in the open. It was all things you loved about your relationship.

Of course, there was the kinky side of it as well. Like her bending you over her lap to punish you for your faults, inflicting pain on you. Then sweetly pushing her fingers into you to soothe the pain that she caused not only on you but on her heart. The names you two would call each other, causing anyone to wonder about your relationship if they heard them. “Mommy, please- ahh- I can’t-” You would whine as she thrusts her fingers into you. “Shhhh, just a bit further baby, I know you hold it.” She would coo in your ear as support. It always seemed unusual to you the names, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but admire it. 

You walked slowly, overhearing the gravel and dirt crunch under your feet as you analyzed all the vibrant colors of each distinct plant. You take a breath in to calm yourself down. As you keep walking you see a small stone bench and decide that’s where you need to rest. As you lower yourself onto it you look up at the sky. The pure blue mixing with the white, puffy clouds giving you a sense of satisfaction. Your mind lets all the stress of Narcissa rest as you admire your surroundings. 

You sit for as long as the universe allowed before Narcissa had come to see you. You glanced up at her then immediately turned your gaze away. She knit her eyebrows together at your reaction. “Dear, you’re eyes are red and puffy.” She says, stepping closer to take a seat next to you. You kept your eyes steady on the dirt path, avoiding her. You didn’t want to, but you had way too much on your mind. “You’ve been crying.” She points out. She brings a hand to your cheek to wipe away your tear stains. You gently grab her hand and move it away from you. You could tell she was surprised by your behavior without watching at her face. “Draco knows about us.” You flatly say. “I know.” She says, you look at her with wide eyes.

“He said you never-” “I didn’t have to tell him, he told me.” She says. “He has no problem with it, he just wants me to be happy.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip in thought. “And if I’m happy without his father and with you then that’s how things need to be.” You both sit in silence for a minute. “He was never fond of his father anyways,” She laughs, “And based on the times I’ve both seen you together he seems like he likes you.” You look at her confused. “Oh, no dear not like that.” She says laughing again.

“Look, I know right now is confusing, maybe even scary because all things we would talk about are becoming true.” She grabs your hand and holds it in her lap. “But just know that we don’t have to rush anything.” You look over to her. “Narcissa, I don’t think we should get married.” You saw the wheels turning in her head as she thought of the solution. “And we don’t have to.” She says. “And I don’t want to be the maid anymore.” You push. “And you won’t be.” 

She wraps her are around your shoulder. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, honey.” She nestles her face into your neck, leaving you to place your chin on top of her head. “I just want us to be able to be who we want to be.” You smile at her words. “I love you, Cissa.” She laughs into your neck, “I know that much.” “And I love you.” She concludes. “I always have.” You kiss the top of her head as she stays against you. 

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 1/16 (all chapters)

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto the stranger’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against your lover in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. Your lover sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

How on earth had you gotten yourself into this situation?

━

Whenever you looked back over the course of your life, one detail stood out far more prominently than the others.

You were a good girl.

You had never broken the law, had always adhered to the proper dress code, had never had a filling or broken a bone. You could, and very often did, define yourself by the roads you had never dreamed of taking and the decisions you had never made.

Never was it more obvious than the day you suffered your first real heartbreak. 

You had followed the rules carefully; had dressed respectably for every date; had taken care to listen to your boyfriend’s every problem. You’d learned to cook his favorite meal; had faked more orgasms than you could count to feed his ego.

You were sure you would marry that man and had mentally mapped out your next five years. You would have a simple ceremony and a child one year later, then another two years after the first. You’d named them in your imagination and frequently lapsed into daydreams about your future perfect life.

On your fifth anniversary he took you to dinner and you could barely hide your excitement. You knew he had been keeping something from you and you were so sure he was going to propose. You put on your best dress and favourite heels and spent an hour on your makeup and hair. This night was going to be perfect and your stomach fluttered as he reached for your hands across the table.

“(Name),” he said, squeezing your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

“Me too,” you said, squeezing back, willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted this moment to be so perfect and romantic that you would repeat it over and over to your future children and grandchildren. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve enjoyed all of our time together, but I think we need to move forwards.”

All you could think about was your future children; the length of their eyelashes and warmth of their hugs. You could almost smell the flowers in your wedding bouquet.

“I just...I think we’ve had a lot of fun together,” he said, “but I’m scared that if we stay like this we’ll fall into a rut. I don’t want to be married with a bunch of kids before I’m forty.”

And just like that, your stomach fell through the floor.

“Wait, w-what are you talking about?”

You snatched your hands from his, heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? You had shopped together for a new mattress only two days before. You glanced around the restaurant, looking for cameras or any sign that this was staged. If it was a prank, it was cruel.

“(Name), it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that, well… you’re like...how do I put this…”

He scratched his chin, searching for the right thing to say, even as your eyes filled with tears.

“You’re vanilla,” he said, “you’re safe, and sweet… but we’re still young and I keep thinking that I might want to try habanero or cayenne.”

“You think I’m...boring?” the words left your lips as a whisper and, while his reaction was to instantly reach out to you and apologise, the damage was already done.

“I can be habanero,” you said before you realised it. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I know,” he said, “and that’s the problem.”

━

That night you stood in your shower for almost three quarters of an hour, staring into space as the water soaked you through. 

His words circled your brain like vultures. 

Vanilla. 

He thought you were vanilla. Perhaps the worst part was that you could not disagree.

It haunted your every action for the following week. All you saw when you got ready for work was your simple wardrobe and comfortable shoes. 

You were a good girl, mild mannered and meek, and everyone seemed to have noticed before you.

Shock made way for despair. Despair turned to denial and denial quickly turned to anger. You hated your ex boyfriend almost as much as you hated yourself, scouring your apartment for everything he had ever touched.

It didn’t take long for your friends to get worried about you. Normally you were all too busy to constantly check in on the group chat you shared, but since the breakup everyone had something to say.

However kind they might have been to spare your feelings, they genuinely did seem surprised that you had broken up. You had been a couple since your college graduation and one of the only constants in the past few years as everyone’s lives took different directions. 

As was to be expected, your friends had multiple different opinions on suitable coping mechanisms. Yuiko came over with food; Hana brought wine. Sayaka called you every evening to trash talk your ex.

Then there was Rei. 

Rei was the most boisterous member of your friend group, full to the brim with the kind of self confidence that was obnoxious on other people, yet suited her perfectly. Her reaction to the breakup was not to hand you tissues. She posted exactly one message to the group chat and it had haunted you ever since.

To get over one dude… you gotta get under another ;)

You had known Rei for years and never once taken her advice, but something about that statement stuck with you. You would never have come up with such an idea on your own and it left you blushing a bright scarlet. Rebound sex was not something girls like you did, which was exactly why you had to do it.

“I’ll show you vanilla,” you muttered as you put on another layer of red lipstick and pulled your dress just a little lower to tease the lace of your bra.

━

You met up with your friends at Ego , a nightclub you had heard a great deal about, though never actually gone to. You had never had any reason to; you already had a long term partner and didn’t enjoy the idea of dancing in full view of strange men. 

You wondered if you’d made a mistake even as you took a seat at one of the tables. 

“Any lookers?”

You glanced around the room, trying to make out faces in the darkness.

“I…” you said. “I…”

You swallowed hard, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll get the next round!”

You thought that by going to fetch another round of drinks, you would be able to catch your breath and avoid drawing copious amounts of attention to yourself. You’d never spent much time at nightclubs, though, and realised your mistake once you got within twenty feet of the bar. 

Dozens of people in various states of intoxication crowded it, packed like sardines and all trying to get the attention of the bartender. You took a deep breath and took a step into the crowd, only for someone closer to the front to move and send a wave of movement through everyone else. Someone’s shoulder caught you in the chest, leaving you even further back than you had been before. 

Normally you were too polite to even contemplate shoving your way through a crowd, but tonight you weren’t yourself. You took a deep breath and put your weight into your shoulders, pushing against the others as forcefully as you could without actually hurting anyone.

At first you seemed to be making progress, though you soon regretted your decisions. As you got within a few paces of the bar, a guy in front of you slipped, the numerous drinks in his hands heading for your face.

Before they could make contact, however, someone reached for your wrist and yanked you towards the bar,  out of the line of fire. The drinks hit other partygoers and they cried out in shock; the glasses shattered as they hit the floor. You, however, remained untouched.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, turning to your saviour. 

He was tall and lanky, with black hair tied back from his face in a ponytail. He wore a black shirt, black pants, black shoes- a complete contrast to the Blue Hawaiian in his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking away from you and taking an indifferent sip of his drink.

The bartender was in the middle of clearing the shattered glass from the floor and so you waited in an awkward sort of silence, finally turning back to the man who had saved you.

“You look as happy to be here as I am,” you said. He looked the type to sit in shady bars with three fingers of whisky, not dance with inebriated strangers, which Ego was better known for.

“Wasn’t my decision,” he said. “Someone’s gotta babysit.”

He pointed towards the dancefloor, where a small group of people danced along to the beat. You couldn’t make out most of their faces, except for one, and you were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

“Is that...Present Mic?”

The stranger followed your gaze, to the man with more than a passing resemblance, who was currently wiggling his hips in time to the beat.

“Him? Nah. I don’t know him.”

“But he’s waving to you,” you said, as the man who looked like Present Mic waved his arms over his head and shouted something in your general direction. You couldn’t hear him over the music and the stranger next to you pointedly turned in the opposite direction, taking a long sip of his drink.

You had been so nervous about approaching strangers. Rei had made it seem so easy- merging into a group and catching someone’s eye. You had always had a boyfriend and never possessed the easy confidence of your friends. It was strangely reassuring that speaking to this man came almost naturally.

“My name’s (Name),” you said. “Listen, you really saved me there...this dress is hand wash only.”

“Shouta,” said the stranger. “My name is Shouta.”

“C-can I get you a drink or something? I really owe you one.”

You realised after saying it that he wasn’t even halfway through the drink in his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “It wasn’t anything special.”

He picked the pineapple from his drink and chewed at it thoughtfully.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like playing games. What is it you want?”

You were tongue tied, mortified at being caught out so quickly. You fought to keep your composure.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stammered some sort of apology or explanation, but tonight you weren’t you and there was no point in denying that you had an ulterior motive.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your nerves. “Do you want to go somewhere more...private?”

You cringed the moment it left your lips, suddenly all too aware of how forward you were being. You couldn’t believe you’d all but thrown yourself at the first guy you saw. What was wrong with you?

He climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on, taking one final sip of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

━

And so it was that you wound up in the nightclub washroom, back against the door and Shouta’s lips on yours.

You had half-heartedly discussed with your friends what to do on the off chance you found someone. You were to post to the group chat with a photograph of you and whoever you left with. You hadn’t expected to leave with anyone, much less decided on where you would go if you did.

You would never have guessed that you would wind up in a washroom, with the door sealed shut behind you. Shouta crushed his lips against yours, one hand pressed against the door, the other on your waist.

Your heart raced, heat rushing through you and pooling in your core.

“Say,” said Shouta, lowering his hand and running a thumb over your lips, “you sure you want this? Right here, right now?”

You moved before you realised what you were doing, opening your mouth and running your tongue over his thumb, looking him dead in the eyes as you wrapped your lips around it.

He hadn’t expected it, but seemed to approve, for he smiled, pulling away and dragging you into another crushing kiss. One hand he positioned above your head; the other grabbed at your clothes, pulling down your dress to expose your bra before heading south.

He lifted your skirt, slipping his fingers into your underwear. You gasped as you felt his hand against your folds, planting your own hand against the door to brace yourself. He caught your eye, tracing a finger around your clit before slowly sinking it deep into you. You reached for his shoulders, hooking one leg around his waist and pushing your lips against his. You pulled him tighter and tighter as he pushed his finger in and out of you, dragging at his shirt and belt. 

He squeezed in a second finger and you bucked your hips into his touches.

As if in response, he pulled his fingers out of you and ran them over your clit- the warmth and wetness sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. You had never felt this way before; this man was as good as a stranger, yet you wanted him so very badly. You had never felt this kind of desire before, never known how it felt to have such a growing pressure inside of you. 

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, not knowing exactly what you were begging him for. “Please—-"

“Come here,” Shouta growled, pulling you towards him and then across to the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, unkempt and wide eyed- a complete transformation from when you stepped out of the house.

You watched through the mirror as Shouta unfastened his belt and fly, lowering his pants low enough to give you a clear view of his hardened dick. He was far more muscular than his skinny physique let on, with a deep scar beneath his belly button. 

You were trembling from need, squeezing your legs together to try and fill the void his fingers had left. He smirked and walked towards you, taking hold of your hips and slowly, almost torturously slowly, pushing himself into you. 

He was bigger than you expected and you gasped at the feel of yourself stretching to accommodate him. He stopped in place, waiting for you to push back against him before pushing in further. At first his pace was slow, inching in only a little at a time, teasing an increasingly sensitive spot deep inside of you. 

“Faster,” you whined, digging your nails into your palms at the pressure inside of you. It was overwhelming your every sense, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every touch. “Please...please…”

He slapped your ass and drove in deeper.

This new pace was faster, his hips slamming into yours with such force that it sent you barreling forwards across the sink. You clung on for dear life, taking in the wet sounds as your bodies clashed; Shouta’s groans of pleasure and exertion.

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto Shouta’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against him in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. He sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

He gathered your hair with one hand and pulled backwards, arching your back as he fucked you even harder. He was getting close and you could tell; his thrusts were getting erratic and the hand that squeezed your hip was so tight that it left bruises later.

“(Name),” he said, raspiness of his voice betraying his desperation, “where would you like me to...cum”

He groaned and you blushed a bright red.

“In...inside me,” you murmured, the depravity of it all too clear. This was a man you didn’t know; you were risking pregnancy and worse.

In that moment, though, it only added to the appeal.

Shouta pulled you even closer, slowing right down to an almost painfully slow rhythm. He held you in place as he came and gasped for air; the heat of his breath leaving goosebumps against your skin.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, his warmth dripping from you as he pulled out. 

You took a deep breath and stood up straight, Shouta letting go of you to pull up his pants. He rinsed his hands under the tap and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a pile of paper towels.

“I’ll guard the door,” he said, motioning towards the same door he had pinned you against only a short time ago. “Knock when you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you said, watching him leave, “okay.”

For the first time all night, you were alone, the nightclub music in the background your only clue to your surroundings.

You walked towards the sink and took in your bedraggled appearance-bra on full display and cum on your thighs.

You couldn’t believe you were thinking it, but Rei was right. For the first time in weeks you weren’t thinking about the ex. For the first time in years you weren’t thinking about anything.

Habanero, you thought as you switched on the tap. 

This was how it felt to be habanero.

━

6 Months Later

You were still a good girl. 

That said, you no longer followed the safe roads. Not so long ago, you believed that your breakup was the end of everything, but it had actually been a new beginning.

Two months after the night at Ego , you cut your hair and quit your job. You had been there since graduation and your colleagues were more than a little desperate for you to stay. You had taken on the workload of about seven of eight people while earning only a pittance for a salary.

You had a new job now; something fresh and exciting and challenging to boot. It made you nervous, but that feeling only spurred you on.

You’d never been to UA before and it was much bigger in person. You could already tell you were going to get lost and found yourself grateful that the Principal had taken it upon himself to show you around.

“These are the first year homerooms,” he said, pointing out the doors on your left and right. “1-A and 1-B. I hope you pardon my presumptuousness, but I thought it might be useful to have you shadow one of our homeroom teachers for a couple of hours...get a feel for our curriculum and the kinds of students you’ll be working with.”

“That would be wonderful,” you said, eager to take notes.

“Wait here,” said Principal Nezu, “I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on one of the doors and stepped inside, presumably to fetch the teacher.

When he returned, it took everything in your power to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

It was him, and he was just as shocked to see you.

“Professor Aizawa,” said Principal Nezu, “this is (Name), our new guidance counsellor.”

He glanced from you to Shouta, taking in your identical expressions.

“Oh… do you know one another?”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Meant to be (G.D.)

Summary: There is a reason why the road not travelled seems more appealing, why the past might trick us into believing if we had made different choices, or just done one thing differently, that our lives would be better for it. There is a reason they say ‘Careful what you wish for’ and Grayson is about to find out exactly what it means to have all his dreams come true. Question is, what’s the cost?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual innuendoes, angst, fluff

Word count: 21k

===========================

Regrets are a weight on the heart and a curse on the mind. They bring out the past over and over again, always tormenting its victims with what ifs and promises of a better life. But it always comes at a cost, it always asks for a sacrifice. It drags its victim away from the beauty of their life, forcing them to wonder...

What if…

It's only two words, six letters, but they can change a person. ‘What if’ is a reminder of all the mistakes, of all the roads not taken and while they may not be as good as reality, one would always ponder on the possibility of something more.

What if...

What if..

What if?

For Grayson, his ‘what if’ had always been a little down the road, back when he was just a teenager and his choices were far simpler. Life was simpler, happier.

Becoming a YouTuber didn't entirely fulfill the dreams he once had. It gave him money, women, fame, but it took away his peace of mind and a quiet suburban life with the love of his life.

At least he found the love of his life. Or so he hopes. 

He's been wrong too many times before to dare say the L word now, but being with Ella feels right. Almost right. He'll never get his perfect life even if she is the one and it has nothing to do with her but the choices he's made before they ever met.

Too often would Grayson watch her sleep and question if he should feel guilty about his ‘what if’. Would she judge him for the inner workings of his mind? Would she feel like their relationship is a lie? Like she isn’t enough? 

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Her raspy voice brings a smile on his face and the thoughts aren't as loud as they were before. No one could ever quiet Grayson’s mind like Ella can. It’s as easy as breathing for her, a single look sent his way and Grayson couldn’t focus on anything other than Ella. 

"Some past choices." Grayson never lied to Ella. When they met, she demanded he be honest with her, always. 

Reluctant, Grayson shared his earnest opinions and in time, he realized Ella is right; honesty is the best policy. It helped their relationship develop on a solid foundation, allowing them to grow together. For once, Grayson didn’t want to date every girl with a heartbeat, his attention focused elsewhere - on Ella.

"Like what?" She tilts her head up, her chin resting on his chest and her brown eyes meet his, a look he always cherished. Ella was always quiescent, a snowflake that he protected with his life.

She had the kind of eyes that made a man weak in the knees and while she was bitter about the mundane color, Grayson never saw a more beautiful shade. There was nothing mundane about her.

"Like the time Ethan and I thought we'd go to that private school on a sports’ scholarship." Sighing, Grayson runs his fingers down her back, playing with the strap of her bra. It's black and lacy, the kind she'd wear to seduce him and yet she's not trying. Ella could sense Grayson needs intimacy, conversation, not sex. She knew him so well, read him like an open book.

"If you did that, you'd probably never be a YouTuber. You wouldn't have the money, the fame, the experiences you have now." Biting her lip, she pauses before speaking timidly, "You wouldn't have the people you have now." 

Swallowing thickly, Grayson noticed the sudden change in her demeanor, the flicker of hurt in those earthy hues enough to make him realize she's thinking of the possibility of them not meeting.

“You really think you can get rid of me that easily?” He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as her expression dulled. 

Grayson wasn’t sure if he believed it, but Ella did and he had to remind her, to make her smile so he wouldn’t feel like he’s drowning in the unshed tears forming in her eyes. 

“You always say that people who are meant to be", Grayson starts and she rolls her eyes playfully, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"Will find their way in the end, I know." Groaning, she rolls on her back, her head resting on her pillow. 

Raising an eyebrow, Grayson moves to his side, towering over her with a lopsided grin. "Should I be upset you just chose your pillow over my chest?"

"Should I be upset you're thinking of a life without me?" She challenges, her left eye narrowing ever so slightly as she stares at him. It's as if she's daring him to move, to take these thoughts out of her head. After so many obstacles they’ve managed to overcome, she couldn’t help the hurt his admission caused. She never once thought about anything other than a life with him.

"I don't think of a life without you, Ella", Grayson's smile falls, his voice deeper, "I believe we would have met either way. You're everything", lowering his head on her chest, his hand rests on her stomach, "We are meant to be."

Fingers treading through his hair, Ella sighs, "I think you're wrong. To be meant for someone means more than just meeting each other. It's the circumstances, it's the experiences that have shaped your preferences and character."

"I'd still fall for your pretty eyes and crazy laugh", Grayson argues, his eyes focusing on the birthmark between her breasts, yet another thing she hated and he loved about her. That would never change.

"I'm not sure I'd go for a jock tho", she states and his head snaps up to meet her gaze only to notice her lips twitching in an attempt to suppress a laugh. Just as she sees the questioning gaze, Ella bursts into laughter, coercing Grayson to do the same. He loved her witchy like cackle she calls a laugh, it's impossible not to laugh when he hears it.

And so, with a laugh filled night, Grayson settles beside Ella as he drifts off. Her words run through his head, wondering if it's true. 

Would they still be together if he hadn't moved to Los Angeles to be an influencer?

As his consciousness fades, Grayson mutters under his breath, completely unaware that his life would forever be changed.

"I wish Ethan and I got the scholarship."

There’s a reason they say be careful what you wish for and Grayson was about to learn the hard way.

--------

"Ugh", Grayson moans, feeling like death. His head hurts, his muscles are aching as if he had run a marathon and his mouth is dry.

"Ella?" He calls out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he rolls on his back, "Babe, I think I'm sick."

"You're not sick, you're hungover", Ethan chuckles and Grayson's eyes open wide.

"Fuck you talking about?" He squints and raises an eyebrow, noticing Ethan in a bed just a few feet away. His lips part, eyebrows furrowing as a faded scar between them becomes prominent.

"You drank a shit ton." Ethan reminds him, throwing a shirt his way.

Shaking his head, Grayson realizes it isn't a shirt, not when his last name is on the back of it right above a number.

"This isn't funny, E", Grayson breathes out, eyes fixed on the jersey in his hands. "Where is Ella?"

Sitting up, Ethan shrugs, "That the girl you were messing around with last night?"

Closing his eyes, Grayson feels his heart sink. "Messing around?" 

He wouldn't hurt Ella that way, would he?

"Since when do you even remember their names? What happened to hit it and quit it?" Ethan asks, standing up to grab his phone and Grayson scoffs.

"Now I know you're fucking with me, I'm a one woman man now. You know I'm with Ella. You can end the prank here because I really feel off." Grayson grimaced with the shooting pulsating pain in his head intensifying, wincing as he rubbed his temples to soothe the pain.

Ethan steps closer, concerned for his brother who is looking around the room with confusion. "Did you hit your head or something?"

"I dunno, maybe." Rubbing his forehead, Grayson sighs, "I have a major headache and I need Ella, okay? Where is she?" Standing abruptly, Grayson frightens Ethan into a backward stumble. "Ella?!"

"Fuck, I knew coach should have sent you to the doc!" Ethan runs his fingers through his hair, genuinely scared for Grayson.

Growling in frustration, Grayson reaches for Ethan, his fingers gripping the thin fabric of his shirt as he forcefully pulls him closer, "Cut the shit, where is she?! Huh?!"

Raising his arms in mock surrender, Ethan shakes his head, "I swear I don't know what you're talking about!" Eyes wide, Ethan pushes Grayson. It's not as forceful in fear of hurting him but enough to get the message across. "You never even mentioned an Ella before."

Releasing Ethan, Grayson stumbles back to the bed. Sitting down, a heavy sigh passes his lips as his eyes fall to his feet. His bare feet. "What the", pausing Grayson blinks fast, "Where's my Tame tattoo?!"

"Tattoo? You better not have a fucking tattoo!", Ethan rubs his chin, trying to understand what is happening. "I'M CALLING THE DOCTOR!" Rushing out of the room, Ethan slams the door behind him.

Lips quivering, Grayson takes his shirt off only to find his chest, his arms are void of tattoos. "No, no, no." Pulling his sweats down, he finds his legs just as bare, no ink he had invested years in. "No, NO, NO!"

Scrambling to the bathroom, he stops in front of a mirror only to find his hair is shorter, dark circles around his eyes are prominent and his lips chapped. Flashing his teeth, he finds no tooth gems, "Those cost a fortune!"

"Bro, we gotta get you to a hospital!" Ethan mumbles, running around to find something to wear while Grayson pales. His hands are shaky, his entire body trembling and he can't help but wonder if Ella was just a fever dream he had.

Or this is?

In what world does he still share a bedroom with Ethan? The tattoos, the gems, the jewelry! He didn't even have a hole for an earring!

And Ella? His sweet brown-eyed Ella with the heart of gold? What of her? If there's one thing he's sure of is that he isn't creative enough to dream up someone as perfect as her.

"C'mon, they'll do a CT as soon as we get in." Ethan waves him over, only then noticing Grayson is in his briefs. "Seriously?!"

Groaning, Ethan grabs him by the forearm and pulls him along, throwing clothes in his face.

"I know you're freaking out or whatever but we need to hurry! It's been a day since you took that nasty fall and I know you said you were okay but THIS IS NOT FUCKING OKAY!" Rambling, Ethan stopped. Taking a few deep breaths, he turns to Grayson with tears brimming his eyes. "You’re my brother and I can't lose you."

Nodding, Grayson presses his lips together. He'd argue, ask him if this is some elaborate prank again but it doesn't feel like one. It feels real and that is what scares him. So, reluctantly, Grayson does as Ethan says and he puts on the clothes, following him to the door.

He wasn't sure what to expect, but Grayson finds himself with raised eyebrows and a concerned look on his face once he sees the state of the house they're in. There are people lying around, red cups and beer bottles everywhere and he could have sworn he saw a few used condoms on the floor as well.

"Where the fuck are we?" Grayson whispers and Ethan pales.

"The frat house. We've lived here for three years Grayson!"

Running his fingers through his hair, Grayson has to suppress a groan as he realizes just how short it is. He's used to his floppy hair, it relieved his anxiety to run his hands through his hair and Ella loved to tug on his hair too. She never said anything about the length, so maybe it’s the feeling of her tugging his hair while he goes down on her is for his own pleasure, but he likes to believe she enjoyed it too.

"You said I hurt my head?" Grayson tries, hoping to understand.

"Yeah, during football practice yesterday. Ryan tackled you because you fucked his girlfriend."

Inhaling, Grayson's eyes widen, "The fuck?" 

So far, Grayson understood one thing: that he understands nothing.

-------

“All the scans came back clear. What kind of symptoms are you experiencing?” 

Grayson glances at Ethan, his mind torn. If he admits to what seems to be a crazy theory about him waking up in some hell dimension, the doctor might put him in the psych ward and throw away the key, but if he doesn’t and all the memories of his life and…Ella’s love are just a symptom of his fall, then he might deter the doctor from a proper diagnosis. 

But as Grayson swallows thickly, he shakes his head. Even if everything was a lie, a symptom, is who Ethan says he is truly who he’d want to be? 

From what Grayson gathered, he is a womanizer with no respect for women or their feelings, he’s an egomaniac and very likely has an STD by now. He sounds like a guy with commitment issues and a nasty personality considering he’s been sleeping with his friend’s girlfriend. 

“Just a headache.”

Ethan’s jaw slacks, his eyes narrowing at Grayson, “Are you sure?” He’s speaking from a confused, angered place and Grayson can tell Ethan is about to blow his cover. 

“I’m sure.” Grayson speaks through gritted teeth, his nostrils flared as he gives Ethan a pointed look. “I’m perfectly fine, just had a wild night and a nasty fall. I’ll take a few pills and be fine by Monday.”

“Alright. I’ll clear you to play next week, but keep the head safer next time.” 

A tight lipped smile on Grayson’s face did nothing to alleviate Ethan’s anger. He had brought his brother in for good reason and he just lied to the doctor’s face. Truth be told, Ethan is worried Grayson is having a psychotic break. Instead of ratting him out, Ethan decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and a single day to reassess the situation again. 

Once in the car, Ethan turns to Grayson with raised eyebrows. “Wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?”

Shrugging, Grayson swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, wincing as he does. “Do I have a busted lip too?” 

“Cut the crap, Gray, what the fuck is happening?” Ethan fixes his eyes on Grayson, refusing to start the car before getting a concrete answer to his many questions. “You’re acting like a totally different person. It’s like you’re an alien possessing my brother’s body and I don’t know who the fuck this Ella is but if she did some magic voodoo thing to you, we got a witch to burn!”

Gasping for a breath, Ethan stops but his eyes narrow as Grayson cackles at him and his rant. 

“THIS IS NOT FUNNY, GRAYSON!”

A hand over his chest, Grayson leans back. Attempting to stifle his laugh, he nods, “I know! I know”. Sniffling, Grayson lets out a long sigh before looking to his brother. “If I tell you, you’d think I’m crazy and I’m not! I swear I’m not!”

Licking his lips, Ethan leans back in his seat. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Ethan can’t help the curiosity bubbling up to the surface. Whatever it is, it can’t be that crazy, can it?

“If I promise to listen to you, will you tell me?”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Grayson shrugs, “Only if you stop freaking out too.”

“FINE”, Ethan exclaims just as Grayson finishes his sentence, willing to hear his side of the story.

“I think I’m in an alternative universe. Like something got fucked and I’m now in an alternative universe because where I come from we aren’t frat boys with a drinking problem.”

Clearing his throat, Ethan motions with his hand for Grayson to elaborate.

“We moved to Los Angeles in our freshman year of high school and did YouTube and we got famous and rich and I had the most beautiful girlfriend. I was with her and then I woke up here.”

Tapping his fingers on his knee, Grayson looks out of the window, biting his lower lip. “She, uh…She means a lot to me.”

“Okay.” Ethan states, starting the engine.

“Okay?” Grayson furrows his eyebrows, lips parted.

“Yeah, okay. I believe you.” Ethan drew his lower lip between his lips, tapping his hands on the wheel.

Leaning forward, Grayson’s frown deepens, “Just like that?”

“Look, I don’t know Ethan from your universe, but I’m a believer in alternative universes and I do think you’re not exactly my brother. He’s just…different.” Glancing at Grayson, Ethan sighs, “You two are very different."

“Alright, so you want him back, right? You’re gonna help me?” Grayson’s excitement is palpable, enough for Ethan to roll his eyes.

“No, I’ll leave him in an alternative universe with millions at his disposal while I deal with you”, Ethan states, the sarcastic undertones unmistakable. Grayson can’t help but snort, smiling to himself. Even in an alternative universe, Ethan is a sarcastic conspiracy theorist. 

“Any idea where we could start, genius?” Ethan snaps his fingers, irritated with Grayson’s tendency to get lost in his thoughts. 

Grayson’s face blanks, “No clue.”

“How about that Ella you keep mentioning? She your girlfriend?” Ethan doesn’t need to ask twice as he glances at the shit eating grin on Grayson’s face upon the mere mention of her name. “You say you care about her. Are you sure you’re not in love?”

Grayson licks his lips, “I don’t know. How does anyone really know?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious when you fall in love. If you can’t answer that, you might have never truly loved anyone.” Ethan’s words hit home. 

While it sounds callous, it’s also true – did Grayson ever really loved any of the girls he was with? They all seemed like the right one at some point. He told them he loves them, but did he really? In the end, they were all forgotten in a week or two, but Ella? He refused to tell her he loves her even when he thought he did. The word had become cheap, she deserved better ones. 

Is that love? Wanting to find better words to express your feelings? Words that are more than what most throw around like ‘Hello’? Words worthy of the way the mere thought of them brings a smile upon one’s face or their voice makes one’s heart race? 

“Have you ever loved someone?” Grayson asks, curious of his brother’s life. Even if he’s not his Ethan, he is Ethan. 

“Once. It didn’t last, but I did love her.” 

Figuring Ethan isn’t quite ready to talk more on the subject, Grayson decides to drop it. He shouldn’t upset him just for his selfish gain. “I think this happened because I wished to know what would have happened if we never went to Los Angeles and took the scholarships at that private school we were interested in.” 

He wished for his old dreams to come true, and they did. But at what cost?

“You wished for this?!” Ethan raises his voice, letting a little of his frustration out.

“I didn’t know it would actually happen!” Grayson defends, pressing his lips together once he realizes raising his voice isn’t going to do him any favors. “I’m guessing we took those scholarships in this universe?

“Yeah. We got into college on football scholarships but we play lacrosse too.” Ethan tells him, “Wrestling didn’t pan out as we wanted.”

“I met Ella in LA, so that’s probably why she’s not here.” Grayson rubs his temples, closing his eyes shut.

“So? Look her up. If she’s not a dream, she’s gonna be on social media.” Ethan suggests. 

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Grayson nods. His eyebrows furrow as he opens up Instagram on his phone. Typing in her username comes up blank. Typing in her name comes out blank.

"Why can't I find her?!" Frustrated, he hits the dash and Ethan huffs, not happy with the way Grayson is treating the car. It may be a flaming pile of shit, but it gets them from point A to point B.

"You're saying you dreamed up a girl you think is real?" Ethan’s not convinced Ella exists. If anything, he’s still a little weirded out with the idea of Grayson not really being his Grayson. He’s trying to believe it all, to trust him on his word and to trust his instincts screaming at him, but it’s hard. It’s really hard.

"She is real!" Grayson exclaims, half panicked as he’s beginning to doubt himself as well. What if Ella found someone else? If he wasn’t there that day they met, who was? 

Glancing at a frustrated Grayson, Ethan feels pity. He may not be his Grayson, but he’s still his brother. In a way. "Google her then."

"If her Instagram account doesn't exist, why would anything exist then? Huh?" What Grayson truly worries about is, what if something happened to her? Maybe she did exist at some point but doesn’t anymore?

"Maybe because it’s Google? Google knows all. If she’s not on there, she was a dream bro." Ethan reasons, parking the car. He turns to Grayson, watching him. Grayson’s pensive, filled with a thousand emotions he cannot put into words and Ethan understands him. He does. 

"Wait...She only got Instagram to follow me! She admitted that!" Grayson exclaims, a little too excited while Ethan remains unimpressed.

"Bro, I love you, but you sound douchier than usual." And that says a lot since he’s been dealing with his douche of a brother. His Grayson is the definition of a douchebag. 

"No, no, she really told me that. So...she wouldn't be in LA either because she said we inspired her to move to follow her dream which would mean she’s back home!" 

Raising his eyebrows, Ethan’s eyes widened, "We inspired her?"

"Yeah, she said if two snotty teenagers could move to LA and make it just by filming videos of themselves she could surely get her book deal." Grayson says it with a smile, feeling nostalgic.

Ethan snorts, "She sounds supportive."

"She really is though." And with that, Ethan notes how Grayson’s voice is warmer when he speaks of Ella. That’s definitely not his brother. His Grayson doesn’t soften up when he speaks about girls unless it’s about Gizmo, their pet bird.

"She’d never tell anyone about the book, but I know she’s been writing it since she was 16 and she actually sold it!" Grayson is also proud of her, boasting about it as if it’s his own success. Ethan can’t help but smile.

"So look for her with that info, you do know where she is from, right?"

"Michigan." The word barely passes his lips as Ethan punches his shoulder, "Owh, what the hell E?!"

"We are in fucking Michigan!" Throwing his arms in the air, Ethan shakes his head. The pent up craziness of the day is starting to drive him up the wall and he can’t even be sure what’s real and what’s not anymore. ”We’re literally Michigan Wolverines!”

"Seriously?! She might be in the same school then!" Clapping his hands, Grayson opens the car door. He jumps out, wildly looking around the parking lot, hoping he’d see her black hair swaying with the wind.

"You're giving me a headache, I hope she's nicer than you." Ethan mumbles, leaning his forearms on the roof of the car, his car door still open.

"You two have been iffy a bit, but you loved her E.”, Grayson turns to him, grinning, “You said it yourself, you love her like a sister but if she touches your vegan rolls again you'd burn the house to the ground."

Lips parting, Ethan’s nose crinkles, "Vegan? She can have them all, why would I fight her on that?!"

Drawing a deep breath, Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose, "Please don't tell me we aren't vegan."

"We are jocks, Grayson, chicken is our religion." Ethan reminds him as he closes the car door, locking it. Walking around the car, he chuckles at Grayson who grumbles about it.

"Just great."

Running a hand through his hair, Ethan averts his eyes to the ground. The pavement is still wet, a reminder of the stormy night from before. "Do I have anyone in your world?"

Grayson smirks, "An Australian model."

"WHAT?!" Ethan steps in front of Grayson, stopping him. 

"Yeah, my reaction too when she decided to date you." Grayson chuckles, amused with the shocked, slightly jealous expression on Ethan’s face.

"Bro, I want an Australian model!"

Laughing wholeheartedly at the whining, Grayson shrugs, "You have her. Well, the other you does."

Throwing his hands up in the air, for the second time in the past ten minutes, Ethan walks ahead, “Fuck this shit.”

Smiling fondly at his brother’s back, Grayson sighs, “At least I know you’re extra here too.”

“What?!” Ethan glances at him over his shoulder and Grayson shakes his head, “NOTHING!”

--

As days passed, Grayson realized one thing: time has its own flow and in that its own beauty, for no man can command it to halt, it can only pass with unique divinity. It’s only been a few nights since he woke up in this strange universe and while days were easy to survive as he spent them on the field and Monday brought classes, nights were much less forgiving.

He misses her – his Ella. 

Time, just as love, is unchangeable – it is there at the end as it was at the start and Grayson doesn’t know how to accept that he might never see Ella again.

He finds himself scribbling her name instead of class notes on his first day of college, attempting to draw her – but the shade of brown in her eyes is never quite right. No matter how hard he tries, nothing he draws will ever come close to the warmth and understanding her eyes and smile held. No one can ever replace the comforting relief that would wash over him whenever she would squeeze his hand or run her fingers through his hair. 

Simply, no one can compare to Ella. No one, possibly not even the alternative universe her…if she exists.

Sighing, Grayson leans back on the tree he sat under. He closes the textbook with her name written a dozen times to give himself reprieve. Being there without her is torment, a special kind of hell Grayson never dreamed he’d be stuck in. 

Ethan has helped him adjust as much as possible, but it seems as if he can never truly fit into this life.

This Grayson is a douchebag, whoring his way through campus with a bottle of tequila in hand and no one bats an eye as long as he scores the winning touchdown. His grades are an average C, but it took him less than a single day to find out it’s because the professors are giving him special treatment. He’s not exactly a model student and plenty of his classmates were surprised he even attended lectures today.

Closing his eyes, he tries to ignore the words in his head reminding him this is karma. He has done enough to get himself rejected from his own timeline and universe. 

Truth be told, he’s ashamed. He wasn’t much better before meeting Ella, either. He’d whore his way through Los Angeles, the difference being non-disclosure agreements he had the girls sign. He might have been sober, but he was drunk on adrenaline of fame that he had given into different obsessions. He became paranoid, mistrustful, hateful and treated his friends as if they owed him something for being a part of his life.

When Ella came around, he changed. It took a while, but Grayson thought he was finally worthy of her. 

Now? Grayson finally understands what she meant when she told him she might not like him as a jock. He didn’t like himself as a jock.

“Hey, six-pack?!”

Grayson’s eyes open wide, his breath caught in his throat as he recognizes that voice. Only one person he knows has that kind of a voice – a raspy voice that is the base of all his happy memories. 

And there she is, Ella – his Ella. Her long black hair is shorter in this universe, falling to her shoulders in waves. Her eyes are just as beautiful as he remembers them to be, like melted honey on a warm sunny day. Her lips are curled into a small smile, gentle yet cautious. 

“Ella?” He breathes out, his hands beginning to shake and she can tell. 

Ella raises an eyebrow, confused as to why would the cockiest man she ever met feel so nervous to see her. He seems to be shocked, maybe even relieved – a contradictory Grayson never was. Not to her knowledge. She always saw him as a one dimensional being – an asshole without a cause. 

“Wanted to bring this back to you”, she reaches into her backpack – a flower themed green backpack she had when they first met. 

Back then, she was but a stranger with a very pissed off look on her face when he slammed into her on the beach as he attempted to catch a ball Ethan sent flying way above his head. He remembers her yelling at him as if it were yesterday, but he also remembers her laughing when he asked for her number when she was done with yelling, breathless. He bought her an ice cream and apologized and ever since then, Grayson never looked at another.

Ella tosses a jersey in his face and Grayson quickly stands up, holding the jersey in his hands. 

“Wait, how do you have this?” He looks at the number – 33 – his number.

Raising both eyebrows, Ella’s eyes widened for a split second, “Wow, you were really drunk off your ass that night, weren’t you?” Leaning in, she steps on her tiptoes as Grayson holds his breath, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that Grayson Dolan actually did something decent for a change.”

She turns on her heel, taking a few steps further before Grayson’s senses return to him. “Ella, wait!”

“And he remembers my name? I’m impressed!” She giggles, not even turning around as she heard his heavy footsteps just behind her. “Though I don’t remember telling you my name.” That’s when she stops, hands on her hips as she looks at Grayson who looks like he’s lost. “How do you know my name?”

“How do you have my jersey? I asked first”, Grayson reminds her with a lopsided grin and she purses her lips to stop a smile from spreading. While Ella might not be Grayson’s biggest fan, she’s not blind – he’s extremely good looking.

“The other night at the party mean anything to you?” She raises an eyebrow, waiting for Grayson to respond but he just shrugs, a red tint slowly coloring her cheeks. It’s not something he’s used to as Ella was always tan from the LA sun, but she’s much paler than usual.

“Some asshole pushed me in the pool and my shirt got wet and it was very see through. I panicked and ran and stumbled upon you and for some reason you weren’t an asshole about it and lent me the jersey without even trying to stare at my boobs.” Licking her lips, Ella narrows her eyes at Grayson, “Which was very weird, are you alright? Nobody's body snatched you?”

Chuckling, Grayson shakes his head, eyes fixed on Ella. He can’t look away, not even if he tried. “I’m trying to be better.”

“You? Better?” Biting her lower lip, Ella steps closer, “I really wanna believe that”, her raspy voice is like stardust to Grayson. 

He loves hearing her talk, words are her finishing touch to the emotions she usually suppresses but only ever shared with him. It took forever for her to open up to him, but even then it wasn’t as often. So yes, Grayson wished he could tell her how much he would like to listen to her talk. It doesn’t matter what’s it about – something, nothing, he just wants her to talk to him.

Taking her hand, Grayson hears her gasp. He places her palm on his chest, right above his heart. “Please do. I need you to believe in me.” His lips are parted, his eyes clinging to her like a dying man clings to his last breath and she’s looking back at him, her hand is touching him and she’s not fighting the touch.

Until she breaks out in laughter, “That’s a good line! Do you use that on all your little flings?” 

Stepping away from him, she bites her lower lip, almost disappointed. “Don’t spend your best lines on me, Quarterback, I’m not easily swayed and my heart is taken by someone else.”

Sobering words splash into Grayson’s senses as if they were icy water. “Someone else?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna leave you before someone spreads unflattering rumors about us.” Turning away, Ella takes three more steps before glancing at Grayson over her shoulder. She doesn’t know why she did it, but something inside her told her to look back, to stay – even if it’s for a moment. 

“Thank you for the jersey, Grayson. I’ll remember that.”

And as Grayson stood there, watching Ella leave, he reminded himself that everything he wants is on the other side of determination and consistency. He would show her he’s redeemable and he would win her over. It doesn’t matter what universe he’s in, there is never a time he won’t want her – her light, her kindness, her approval. 

Even if everything's made to be broken, Grayson needs her to believe in him. He needs her to know who he is. 

--

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m with you”, Ella huffs. Arms crossed she rolls her eyes at Grayson before laughing, “Your decoration skills need serious improvement!”

“Ah, you got me worried for a moment”, Grayson reaches out for her. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulls her into his lap.

Chuckling, she wraps her arms around his neck, “Why?”

Licking his lips, Grayson looks down, “Because I wonder why you’re with me.”

“For the same reason you’re with me”, she explains and he furrows his eyebrows as his lips form a tight line. The reason he’s with her is because his soul never felt more at home than when she would wrap her arms around him.

“Boobies?” Grayson teases, earning himself an eye roll.

Cupping his left boob, Ella exclaims, “Yes! Yours are almost as big as mine!”

“Idiot!” Grayson grumbles under his breath. Looking back at it, he knew it was a perfect chance to tell her what she means to him and how grateful he is for her presence but he didn’t. He made it into a joke to hide just how much he needs her and she didn’t deserve that. She deserved a man who could speak his mind and share his emotions, not a coward he turned out to be.

“Awee, you’re not an idiot”, Ethan mocks, “Especially not if you help a brother out.”

“I’m not telling you her name, Ethan.” Grayson turns to his other side, determined to salvage what’s left of the night. He couldn’t sleep, not after knowing his Ella hates him. But is she his? How can she be his when she loves someone else? How can she be his when this Ella hadn’t ever been in his arms? Even if she was, she would be the other Grayson’s Ella. Manwhore Grayson’s Ella. Frat boy, jock’s Ella.

It leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. The idea of her with someone else, even another version of himself isn’t easy to stomach.

“But she’s my girlfriend!” Ethan exclaims, throwing a sock at Grayson’s head. A smelly sock.

Covering his nose, Grayson tosses the sock back, “Not in this world she isn’t.”

Flipping Grayson off, Ethan groans. “She could be, ya know? She could be my girlfriend!”

Rolling his eyes, Grayson turns to his back, “Chasing someone else’s love story isn’t exactly something I’d recommend to you.”

“Wouldn’t the other me want to be with his girl in every universe?” Ethan challenges and Grayson raises his eyebrows, “You’re trying to find your girl in this universe, why don’t I get the same courtesy?”

Pressing his lips in a hard line, sadness clouded Grayson’s features, “Kristina Alice.”

Gasping, Ethan’s phone lights up as he searches her name only to sit up once he sees her photo, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHE’S MINE?!”

“YuPP”, Grayson closes his eyes, “Good luck getting her to accept your request.”

“Thanks”, Ethan smiles as he hits the follow button on her Instagram page, desperately hoping she would soon accept his request and he could send her a message. Maybe he has a shot after all.

“Just shut up and let me sleep.” Grayson covers his head with a pillow, turning to the other side where it’s colder.

“What if”, Ethan begins as Grayson groans loudly. Those two words are the last ones he wants to hear. Ever.

“I need to sleep!”

“Sure, but hear me out”, Ethan springs from his bed and sits on Grayson’s, “What if you being here means my brother, real brother, is also in a different universe?”

Uncovering his face, Grayson’s eyes widen as he sits up with a thundering heart, “Like in my universe?”

“Dunno, but I don’t think he would just disappear. The whole laws of physics wouldn’t allow for that to happen. If energies cannot be created or destroyed, perhaps souls can’t either. Maybe he’s in your body or in another universe and that universes’ Grayson is in your body? Maybe all the Grayson’s have switched places?”

Hand on his heart, Grayson could feel the cold sweat forming at the back of his neck, “I’m gonna be sick.”

“You think it’s possible?” Ethan raises his right eyebrow, genuinely curious.

“If it is, some other guy is with my Ella right now and he could be fucking up my life as we speak.”

“Well, depending on the definition of ‘your life’, he could be fucking your life right now.” Ethan’s insinuation didn’t help Grayson fall asleep that night.

If it’s true, another version of him might be holding Ella tightly against him as she unravels under him. Another Grayson, possibly even the manwhore Grayson he’s occupying could be both abusing the privilege of being intimate with Ella and breaking her heart by being intimate with other women in front of her.

Laying awake, staring at the ceiling, Grayson met dawn as an old friend. Dawn signified a new start, a day full of activities that would busy his mind with anything but some look alike hurting the lov…His Ella. Besides, he was looking forward to the day as he planned on seeing this Ella as well. He can’t deny the pull, the gravitational change he feels when he’s close to her. She may not be his Ella in every sense of the word, but she is Ella and she is the light in this darkness.

Morning practice went by fast, allowing him to exercise some of his demons, but it isn’t enough. In the back of his mind is an image, one that is enough to enrage him – an image of his lookalike in bed with his unsuspecting Ella.

Inhaling, he closes his eyes as he settles under the same tree he sat at yesterday. Holding his breath, he waits for the burning sensation of his lungs as they scream for oxygen. Reluctant, he releases the pent up air in a slow exhale.

“Since when is this your hangout place?”

Eyes snapping open, Grayson’s lips part with the familiar raspiness in the voice. “Ella?”

“Still my name”, she smiles before sitting in front of him, book in her hand.

“Sorry”, he breathes out, attempting to smile but he didn’t know if he should smirk or grin and ended up grimacing more than smiling.

“Don’t be. It’s not like the tree has my name on it”, she shrugs as she opens up her book and he frowns, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Pointing to the tree, “It’s my spot. Has been since freshman year and suddenly you’re here.”

Making an ‘O’ shaped face, Grayson’s heart skips a beat. He didn’t even know why he sat under this particular tree, but it was calming him. It felt cozy, safe, a place to gather his thoughts. Upon further evaluation, this tree wasn’t entirely different from other trees, but he chose the same one two days in a row and he had a sneaky suspicion Ella is the reason why he was drawn to it.

If there is no magic in the world, how is he in this universe? If there is no magic in the world, how did he meet her again? If there is no magic in the world, why would he sit under this tree?

Smiling, Grayson realizes – magic exists. Maybe it’s not in the obvious witchy way, but it’s real. Ella made him see that.

“I’m sorry if I was ever a jerk to you.” Gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip, Grayson noticed her surprise when he spoke up, more so with what he said.

“Save your apologies, Quarterback. You weren’t a jerk to me.” Forcing a small smile, she clarifies, “You weren’t anything to me.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she feels her heartbeat quicken as his eyes remain on her. She could see the genuine emotions swirling in his hazel eyes and it caught her off guard. It’s as if he actually means it.

“Look, you’ve been pretty shitty to a lot of people and you’re worshipped regardless. But if you want to be better, you have to take baby steps. It’s never easy to change once you’ve left people with a certain idea of who you are.” Licking her lips, she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. 

Averting her gaze to the book in hand, she tries to hide how his unrelenting gaze is making her nervous. It’s an effort to stop herself from tapping her fingers on the book or to stop herself from running away to take a proper breath she can’t seem to take ever since she decided to sit there. Somehow, Grayson causes a panic in her, not one associated by fear. It’s more about the implications of his longing stares and uncharacteristically kind words.

“Can I start with you?” Grayson leans closer, minding the way she blinks faster as he does as if his proximity is making it harder for her to ignore the need to stay close.

“Why me? What’s so important about me?” Her question catches him off guard and it reminds him of his Ella and the insecurities she always tried to hide. Maybe they’re not so different after all.

“Because I think highly of you.”

Scoffing, she looks away but Grayson can’t ignore the blush spreading across her cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’m an observant person. I know more than you think and I’m not asking for you to be my friend but maybe a tutor? You could help my grades and my stupid mouth when it goes off?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Ella’s confusion is stronger than before. No matter what she heard of Grayson, he didn’t seem as bad as people made him seem. He’s trouble, she’s sure of that, but he’s also lost. A part of her wants to help him find what he’s looking for, to help him…fix him, but if she does, she knows she might find herself in dangerous territory. 

Grayson Dolan seems like a guy one would easily fall for, but he also seems like the guy who’d break her heart. Can he even break a heart that’s not his to begin with?

“Tutoring sounds fine.” She speaks, finally breaking the silence and Grayson’s lips stretch into a wide smile on instinct.  “But only tutoring and it’s not for free. I expect you to do something for me too.”

“Anything!”

Drawing a deep breath, she wonders if this is wise. It could backfire in the worst possible way, but she can’t help herself. She has a unique chance to do something she always wanted, “I need you to be my fake boyfriend for a month.”

Inhaling sharply, Grayson exhales, “Huh?”

Rolling her eyes, she leans closer, “I want to make a guy jealous and who better to do that than the Quarterback.”

Grayson’s heart sinks with her words but he finds himself nodding. It might be the worst thing to agree to but it would put him in her orbit and it would give her a chance to see who he truly is. She might fall for him in the end.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

--

“So you’re just gonna fake date your girlfriend?” Ethan cocks an eyebrow, a little confused and uncertain of the benefits this deal could possibly bring his brother.

Shrugging, Grayson runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to put in the effort to make himself look somewhat presentable. “Yeah. It’s not much, but I’m willing to go through with worse if it means I get to hold her hand at the end of the day.”

“What if her plan works and she actually gets with the person you’re supposed to make jealous?” Raising both eyebrows, Ethan flicks Grayson’s ear, “You’ll be worse off than before.”

“It won’t happen!” Grayson exclaims, trying to not murder Ethan. “Fake dating trope always ends with the two realizing their feelings and marrying each other.” 

Smiling at his reflection in the mirror, he nods to himself. It’s the first time in a long time he gave much thought about what he should wear or what his hair looks like but it’s for a good reason. He has to impress Ella. 

“We’re soulmates, E. I know it.”

Huffing, Ethan rolls his eyes, “Chances of that being an actual thing is slim, but let's face the facts. Even if you’re soulmates, you two aren’t necessarily meant to be in every single universe. No one can have their happy ending in every universe. Maybe consider this universe is the one where you don’t get the girl.”

Hands on his hips, Grayson turns to Ethan with a stiff upper lip, “Is this really about me and Ella or about the fact Kristina didn’t accept your follow request?”

Rubbing his forehead, Ethan groans, “Maybe, but it’s a possibility?! I don’t want you to end up with a broken heart if this doesn’t work out. Just…Don’t forget this isn’t your life, okay? What happens when real Grayson comes back and he’s suddenly in a relationship? He’d break Ella’s heart.”

“What if he never returns and I’m stuck here forever? I can’t and will not give up on Ella. Manwhore Grayson needs to man up and I’m preparing the turf in case he returns to this life.”

“Manwhore Grayson?!” Ethan chuckles, “That’s actually who he is. Cameron calls him that!” Wheezing, Ethan throws himself on the bed, hugging a pillow.

Grayson watches, stifling a laugh, “Bro, I wanna smack him so bad!!”

“Get in line! At least half the female population wanna smack his face and the other wants to smack his ass!”

Pursing his lips, Grayson exhales through his nose, or he tries to. It’s been hell living in a body with sinus issues again and he envied whoever is in his body for the ability to breathe freely and without suffering after he had suffered all the pain of two surgeries and multiple rounds of antibiotics.

“Well, I’ll be going then. Don’t wanna keep my girl waiting.” With a lopsided grin, Grayson heads to the door when Ethan speaks up.

“Do you think this would classify as cheating? I mean, she’s Ella but she’s not really your Ella, right?”

Licking his lips, Grayson’s heart sinks. Ethan is right, this Ella might look like his Ella, have her soul, but her personality might be different. So far, Grayson noticed three differences: her ears are pierced though his Ella was terrified of the very idea of having them pierced, she doesn’t seem to wear the red lipstick he loved to smudge and she had black nail polish but his Ella prefers pastels.

Shaking his head, he remembers how it felt to imagine her with manwhore Grayson. It doesn’t feel right and his Ella would probably hate him for this, but something inside him is insisting he must see it through. “I’ll see you later.”

--

Holding his breath and waiting for inevitable doom. This is what Grayson feels like. It’s as if this entire universe is made to torture him. Sure, he wasn’t the best person alive in his universe, but he wasn’t evil either. A part of him couldn't shake the karma aspect of this switch – what did he do that was so bad to warrant a karmic intervention?

“Hey!” Ella’s usual raspy voice is a little higher, pitchy, enough to make Grayson smile. She’s nervous and he’s glad he’s the one that made her nervous. It means she cares, however small it may be.

“You look”, pausing, Grayson raises his eyebrows as his eyes trail down her body, “Incredible!” He lets out a breathless chuckle, watching her cheeks darken. She’s definitely nervous.

“So, uh, what do you need help with”, Ella licks her lips, tucking her hair behind her ear as her eyes fix on his hand. “Are those….flowers?” Raising an eyebrow, she stifles a smile as Grayson fidgets, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah…I wanted to do something nice.” Holding the flowers out, he watches her lips twitch as her attempt to keep a smile at bay slowly fails.

The corners of his lips turned up in a slight smile as his eyes dropped to the floor, a strangely demure gesture for him, Ella realized. As he looked back at her, moving his hair back with his hand, Ella was momentarily swayed by the dark brown eyes that sparkled up through long, dark lashes that she never noticed before. Perhaps she allowed herself to send a few glances his way in the past, trying to understand why so many girls ventured into his web, and she never quite understood until now.

The way he looks at her as if she’s the source of sunshine in his life, the way he smiles as if her presence sparks joy in his heart and the way he had held her hand over his beating heart had disarmed her and she hated herself for it. 

She fell for his charms and silver tongue as many have before and she likes him. She does. It’s impossible not to like a man as magnificent as Grayson – no matter how messed up he is. 

There will always be a girl willing to stay way too long in hopes of fixing him. He’s a death trap for every woman who looks into his eyes.

“Lilies?” Careful, she reaches for the flowers. Her fingers curl right above his, avoiding touch and the electrifying feelings it could bring to the surface. Ella preferred not to know.

“Your favorite”, Grayson blurts out, his mouth faster than his brain and his eyes widen as Ella’s eyes narrow at him.

“How would you know?”

Hands trembling, Grayson shrugs, “A lucky guess. You’re not a rose kind of a girl because you think roses are cliché.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Ella’s frown deepens, “That sounds more like an educated guess.”

“Am I wrong?” Grayson cocks an eyebrow, his confidence growing as she purses her lips, eyeing him as if she’s reconsidering her previous judgment of him.

“I hate the thorns too”, she states matter of factly, turning her back on him. Glancing over her shoulder, she raises an eyebrow, “Coming? Or am I supposed to take your exams for you, Quarterback?”

With a lopsided grin, Grayson follows after, relishing in her sassy attitude. She must know how it affects him, draws him in. If anyone could tell him to get over his shit and act like a normal human being, it was Ella. Of course, his Ella took a while to open up in a way where she didn’t mind her tongue. His Ella is shy until one gets under her skin, a little more insecure. This Ella is a firecracker from the start, brazen.

For a moment, he feels guilty for liking that about her. He feels guilty for liking this Ella, but it’s still his Ella, is it not? She’s just got a different life experience. 

--

For the first time in his life, Grayson couldn’t stop staring. He was good at hiding his feelings, pushing down anything uncomfortable until he could ignore it, but he couldn’t do it. Not anymore. He sought her out even when she wasn’t close, he yearned for her shy smiles and annoyed eye rolls. He missed each time she’d glance his way and swiftly look away or the way she’d use her hands when she talks about something she’s passionate about. He wanted to see her hands when she’s talking about him, to be passionate about him – with him.

For the first time in his life, Grayson found himself chasing after a girl. She’s out of his league, he’s aware of it. She’s wife material and he isn’t sure he could settle down any time soon, but waiting too long might mean she’ll find someone who is ready for all the things he’d like to have with her. Because no matter how scary it seems to commit when he’s unsure if he’s able to love someone, losing the opportunity to find out seems scarier.

For the first time in his life he wanted to reach out and ask her to hold his hand, to look at him the same way she looks at puppies because he only ever saw her look at them with love. He wants to hear her laugh at his jokes and he wants her to call him out on the shit he does and hold him accountable. He wants her to make an effort because she thinks he deserves to be saved, that he can be fixed. Maybe he should fix himself before asking her to love him, but she makes it better. With her, he finds all he thought he lost before – the will to try and do better.

“Are you okay?” Her voice catches him off guard, her eyes gentle, softer than he thought they could be. 

“You seem a million miles away”, she brushes over the part where he stared at her and he’s grateful. She could have called him a creep and walked away, but she didn’t. Instead, Ella reaches out, her hand resting atop of his and Grayson releases a heavy sigh, as if the weight of the world didn’t press on his chest anymore. It’s as if a single touch of her hand had made him whole.

“I feel better now.” Grayson musters a smile, “You make everything better.”

For the second time in his life, Grayson finds himself staring. Blinking seems so unnatural when his eyes are focused on such beauty as if a single moment lost would prove to be deadly. Not looking at her would make him crumble, blurt out the truth of who he is and how scared he is and how badly he needs her to hold him and say things will be alright. But she doesn’t.

For the second time in his life, Grayson found himself wishing for a girl to hold his hand, to tell him he’s worth saving. He wants her to smile and blush like she did when she brought his jersey back to him. He wants her to roll her pretty brown eyes and chuckle at him, but she doesn’t.

For the second time in his life, Grayson is wondering if he’s able to commit to anyone. Is he any better than the manwhore version of him from this alternative universe? 

He’s sitting next to a woman and he craves her attention and approval as if he doesn’t have a woman who offers all that and more. 

Does it really give him any reprieve if they’re the same soul cultivated in different universes? 

Perhaps she’d think it’s cute she captured his attention even in a different setting? Would Ella feel hurt or betrayed if he admitted he likes this version of her, as well?

“Are you okay?” Ella’s raspy voice catches him off guard, not just the sound, but the choice of wording. It’s the orotund tone she uses too; a little uncomfortable, lacking the softness his Ella would use with him. “You’re kinda staring and zoning out and I’m trying to explain this in the easiest way possible.”

Licking his lips, he nods, more to himself than her as he realizes this Ella and his Ella are definitely not the same person. Perhaps they look alike, but his Ella was kinder in a sense. Maybe kinder isn’t the proper word, but empathic?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a slight headache.” Pushing his hair back, he clears his throat, “So, uh, there’s a game this Friday.”

“Oh”, her eyebrows raised, Ella tilts her head slightly to the left, waiting for him to explain.

“Well, we’re dating, fake dating and girlfriends usually wear their boyfriend’s jersey’s on the day of the game”, swallowing thickly, Grayson draws in a quick breath. “Would you maybe wear mine?”

Furrowing her eyebrows for a moment, Ella’s face relaxed again as her eyes fell to Grayson’s shaky left hand. Reaching out, she takes his hand in hers. Her grip is firm, certain, no doubts as she gives it a squeeze. 

“Yeah. It’s not like it’s my first time.” Letting out a breathless chuckle, she shrugs, “And we did agree. So, I’ll wear your jersey and you pass this exam tomorrow.”

“Deal.” Grayson smiles as she purses her lips, but his smile quickly falls as she lets go of his hand and turns to the notes. She held his hand, but it’s not nearly as long as he wished for her hand to linger.

“Oh, wow, it’s true.” Someone speaks from behind them and Grayson frowns, turning back only to see a blonde, tall guy with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Danny!” Ella exclaims, jumping to her feet and straight into this guy’s arms.

Grayson’s eyes narrow as he looks how low his hands rest on Ella’s back, more so as the guy’s green eyes pierce him. He’s sizing him up just as much as Grayson’s doing to him. So, Grayson stands – letting him have something to size up. They may be the same height, but Grayson’s muscular, much more than him.

“So you’re really dating the Quarterback? I thought it was a joke.” Danny chuckles, his arm around Ella as she shifts uncomfortably at his words.

“Why?” Grayson raises an eyebrow, “She’s a beautiful, witty, intelligent woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

Smiling, Ella looks to Danny who nods, “Yes, I wasn’t demeaning her by asking. I’m saying I’m shocked she’d stoop as low to date you.”

Escaping his embrace, Ella steps away, “What the fuck, Daniel?”

Rolling his eyes, Daniel clicks his tongue, “Oh, come on! He’s whored his way through campus, you’re probably the last one he didn’t bag. He’ll use you and cast you aside, Ells. Men like him can’t commit.”

Chuckling from frustration more than finding anything amusing, Grayson steps closer to Ella, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Sounds like you know the type, Derrick.”

“It’s Daniel”, he corrects Grayson, visibly annoyed.

“Sure it is, Dario.”

Nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing, Daniel clenches his fists. “You can’t seriously think Ella is stupid to fall for your tricks.”

“Ella is right here and she’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions”, Grayson remarks, stepping in front of her, “Imply she’s stupid again and I’ll knock you on your ass so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“Gray”, that’s when he feels it – her arms wrapping around him, her hand over his heart. “Please calm down, please.” Her head rests on his back, her hold on him tightening.

Softening at the sound of her frightened voice, Grayson steps back. “You’re lucky I value her good opinion more than your jealous remarks, Dicky.”

“It’s Daniel!” Raising his voice, Daniel shakes his head. “Ella, come on. Let’s go watch that movie before I lose my temper.”

Lips parting, Grayson glances at Ella who is blinking fast, biting on her bottom lip anxiously. “I think I’m gonna stay.”

“Seriously?” Daniel frowns, his green eyes fixed on her.

“I think I need some time away from you to reevaluate our friendship.” Ella states, her voice shaky and Grayson feels her body begin to shake as well.

“What?” Pointing at Grayson, Daniel speaks, “This is his doing! He’s manipulating you!”

Shaking her head, Ella seems to be lost. After years of liking this guy, she’s only now wondering why. “No, he’s not. You’re the asshole here. Your behavior toward my boyfriend is telling me I need to step back and create some distance because if you’re incapable of trusting I can make my own choices, I can’t trust you either.”

“He’ll break your heart.” Daniel states and Ella lets out a breathless chuckle.

“Maybe. But it’s my heart to break.”

And that’s when Grayson felt his heart break a little too. When he looks at her, he sees her heart is already cracked from this altercation. Daniel had been the culprit, but he feels responsible.

Walking away, Daniel doesn’t spare the pair a second glance. Ella’s quiet, holding onto Grayson. He can see she’s struggling to hold her tears at bay, but she’s successful. “We should review this part once again.”

“You don’t have to be brave with me.” Grayson tries but she waves him off.

“I’m fine.”

She’s not, but she can’t talk about it. Breaking down in tears isn’t exactly what she wants around Grayson. She’s hurt, confused and angry, but none of those emotions will help her. She wanted to make Daniel jealous a little, make him see what he could have if he stopped friendzoning her, but she didn’t expect him to disrespect her or say hurtful things about Grayson, as true as they may be.

“I’m fine”, she repeats before letting out a shuddered breath. “So, how did you get this result?”

Knowing better than to push her further, Grayson swallows thickly and plays along, taking this time with her as a chance to help her clear her head. His Ella always worked herself to the bone when she didn’t want to think about something, maybe this Ella needed the same. If she’s anything like his Ella, she’ll open up when she’s ready and for now, Grayson has nothing but time.

--

“Hey”, Grayson comes up behind Ella, making her gasp.

Slapping a hand over her mouth to hold in a shrill scream, she turns around only to whack Grayson with her free hand. “Jerk!”

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Grayson’s mouth curved into a smile. “I wanted to hug my girl, not my fault she’s a scaredy cat!”

Rolling her eyes, she takes a step closer so he couldn’t miss her glare, “I prefer not to have Quarterbacks giving me heart attacks. A warning would have been nice!” Her voice is tremulous, her hands still shaky.

“I was gonna offer to walk you to your dorm”, Grayson’s smile falls as he realizes he truly did scare her which wasn’t his intention at all. He didn’t see her that day more than a few times in passing, so he got excited for a moment of her time finally seemed to be open for him to claim as his.

“Just don’t sneak up on me when the sun is going down, okay?” Ella crosses her arms over her chest as she looks left to right before her eyes set on Grayson who pales, realizing his mistake.

“Oh, shit”, he pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself. Who the fuck goes up to a girl in an empty street at dusk? Idiots like him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Cracking a smile, she nods, “Yeah”, exhaling loudly, she points ahead, “I live about ten minutes that way.”

“You’re letting me walk with you?” Grayson’s eyes widen, a little too excited and Ella could tell. 

“It’s getting dark and you’re kinda big and scary looking to potential killers.” Ella shrugs, “I don’t mind a bodyguard right now.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, licking his lips quickly before taking her hand in his. He noticed her tense up, but she didn’t fight his touch. Her hand felt sweaty, but he held on tightly as if it were his safety rope and letting go would mark him for death.

“Do you believe people can really change?” Grayson wonders out loud, hoping Ella would show some signs of changing her opinion on him. She let him hold her hand, isn’t that progress?

“I believe some people are beyond help.” Ella sighs, glancing up at Grayson whose face fell with her words, “But I don’t think you are. If anything, you feel like someone I’ve known my entire life and I know it’s insane but I feel like I trust you more than I should.”

His heart fluttered with her confession, acutely aware it means he has more of a chance than he originally thought.

“I feel the same way”, Grayson admits, “You’re like coming up for fresh air, like spring after a long winter.”

Beaming, she fanned herself with her free hand, “I - that was - uh, that was really poetic”, Ella stumbled over her words, unable to form a coherent sentence and she never realized how much Grayson affected her. She may have been attracted to him before, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like him now that she got a chance to see what’s behind his popularity façade. 

“You make me feel poetic”, Grayson’s husky tone made her simper, looking away as heat rushed to her face.

“Wow, okay! A silver tongue charmer.” Ella stops, stepping in front of Grayson with a coy smile dancing along her lips. “We’re here.”

Pressing his lips together, Grayson looked at the walls of the building with slight frustration. He wished they had more time to talk, it finally felt like he made progress.

“If I say I wish we could spend more time together, would you hold it against me?” Ella raises her eyebrows expectantly, her defenses lowered.

“I could come in”, Grayson gave her a half smile, one she could bask in all night long if she would just ignore the little voice in her head reminding her how dangerous Grayson Dolan is to her heart.

“It would be a bad idea.” She lets go of his hand, licking her lips. “Maybe another time.”

Nodding, Grayson sniffled, his allergies making his nose runny. “I swear I’m not crying, I have allergies!”

Giggling, Ella smirks, “Sure. And here I thought you were having a hard time parting with me.”

His smile fading, Grayson’s face loses the usual lightheartedness, “I always have a hard time parting with you.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Ella’s lips part, “You’ve just met me five days ago.”

Shrugging, Grayson steps back, “Feels like a lifetime.” Nodding over to the front door of her dorm, he manages a small smile, “Go in, I’ll wait till you’re inside.”

Licking her lips, she exhales loudly. She takes a few steps away, her back turned on Grayson. Stopping, she glances over her shoulder at him - standing there with the sun setting behind him, a picture perfect man with his hands in his front pockets and she felt breathless as she took him in. Shaking her head, she rushed toward him. With her hands on his shoulders, she stood on her tiptoes until her lips pecked his cheek - fleetingly, feather light kind of a kiss that nearly stopped Grayson’s heart.

“I’ll see you soon”, she told him before she ran to the door. She stopped as her hand gripped the metal handle, looking back at him with a grin and Grayson knew he was in trouble - he liked this Ella, a little too much.

--

Grayson rarely felt as confident as he did when he was on the field. The screaming crowd always gave him enough of an ego boost to run on for a couple of weeks after. It’s been a long time since he was on the field, much too long not to be anxious about it, especially when he knew his teammates weren’t exactly friendly with him at the moment. Apparently if you sleep around with their girlfriends behind their backs, they might end up resenting you for it. Yet another thing he could thank manwhore Grayson for.

The game isn’t the only thing making him nervous. Ella wearing his jersey meant they would officially claim their fake dating trope and knowing she might not be entirely into the idea had left him wondering if he’s forcing it on her.

A part of him wanted to hold her hand and ignore the sinking feeling and insecurities, but another part of him lived to see her smile. Her smile had made all the difference in the world. Instead of responding to the constant wave of girls trying to flirt their way to his pants, he only cared for one smile, one pair of eyes, just one girl who could make him swoon.

“How do we do this?” Ella frowns, looking at the door. She’s nervous, he can tell. All the classic signs of his Ella are there – biting her lip, crossing her arms at her chest only to tap her fingers on her forearms, blinking fast. She needed reassurance, Grayson simply wished to provide her with it when he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in.

“Oh”, she exclaims, caught off guard. “Didn’t realize we’d go for the half embrace, jersey on the special game kind of a walk, but sure.” With a tight lipped smile, Ella made the first step toward the door and Grayson followed.

Far too happy about the initial few gasps upon their entrance, Grayson grins. It’s official now, he’s staking his claim and taking charge and Ella is once again his. The girls whisper about as they walk past them, the guys spare no attempt to hide their wandering eyes from taking in the girl that made a guy like Grayson Dolan fold and commit.

“Don’t you two look lovely”, Ethan winks as he crosses their path, suppressing a smile as Grayson’s shit eating grin grows wider if that’s even possible.

“Your brother seems to be happy with our endeavor”, Ella notes. “Almost as if he knows the truth.”

“He does, but he’s also a sucker for romance. Says this is how most books start, but they never end this way.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ella cranes her neck to better look at her so-called boyfriend, “And do pray tell, how do they end?”

“A wedding.” Grayson chuckles, leading her to her first class of the day.

Stopping, Ella untangles herself from Grayson’s side almost instantly, leaving Grayson with a frown paired with a pout she found almost endearing

“Good thing we’re not in a book.”

Nodding, Grayson purses his lips, “I guess so. Wouldn’t be the worst thing though.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Ella narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

A small smile plays on his lips, one that is near her as he leans in. His lips brush her earlobe and she holds her breath, her heartbeat skipping as he whispers, “There are worse things than having you as a wife.”

Swallowing thickly, Ella watched him step back with a cocky smile, praying her cheeks aren’t red. But they are. Her cheeks seem to know no other color but red when Grayson is close by.

“I’ll see you for the game, alright?” Grayson presses two fingers to his lips only to rest them back on hers, “Call me if you need me.”

And so, as he walked away, Ella remained rooted. For the first time in a long time, she fully understood what all those girls saw in this frat manwhore and it concerned her greatly to know he could disarm her so easily and she allowed it to happen. What upset her further is that she wished it had been his lips atop hers, not just his fingers.

As the day continued, such as they always do, Ella found herself thinking back to moments spent with Grayson and it only amplified her curiosity. The Grayson she heard of felt entirely like a fabrication at this point. This Grayson, dare she say – her – Grayson is much better than anyone gives him credit for.

In the time spent together, she had come to see him as a flawed human being, but one who is learning from his mistakes and rectifying them. It’s not impossible for her to truly care for him if he continues down that path. Perhaps in the near future, she wouldn’t care about the dashing Daniel she was so enamored by. Perhaps Grayson could be the one she desires after all. 

There are worse fates than a wedding, she thought..

--

Grayson would like to say he didn’t miss Ella, but he’d be lying. No, he doesn’t mean this Ella, rather his Ella. He tells himself he needs to let go of her, of the softness in her raspy voice whenever she speaks to him or the flowery scents she’s obsessed with, but he cannot reconcile the possibility of never seeing her.

Could he truly fall for this Ella and accept his Ella is to be lost forever? Can he surrender and learn to live in his new life as if he had never known the tender kisses she’d leave on his jaw or the way she’d trail his tattoos every morning after making love. She’s the reason why he stopped calling it fucking or sex. Ella is why it became something more. How can anyone top that? Even if it’s another version of her, what if Grayson never moves on?

“You good?” Ethan smacks him on the back and Grayson’s breath leaves him. Eyes wide, he nods, inhaling sharply.

“How big is this game?” Grayson wets his lips, finally hearing the cheering from the stands as he comes closer to the tunnel. Ethan shrugs, swiping his thumb just under his bottom lip.

“Career defining. We have scouts watching us tonight.” Ethan frowns, “If you wanted to fuck up our lives, botching tonight would be a fucktastic way to do it.”

“Great”, Grayson releases a heavy sigh, “No pressure then.”

Rolling his eyes, Ethan places his hands on Grayson’s padded shoulders, “Look, you’re not bad. You’ve been busting your ass in practice and you’re in shape, so just remember the plays and we’ll be good.”

“I’m the fucking quarterback, E. Why didn’t you take over for the night?”

Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, Ethan gives Grayson a pointed look, “Because I have faith in you.”

“Somehow that makes it worse”, Grayson shakes his head, lips pressing into a thin line.

“Ella’s watching. Impress the girl and scouts and you’ll be on top of the world.”

And with that, Grayson put his helmet on and rushed onto the field with the rest of the team. He didn’t know what would happen, but he knew he had to try. If he doesn’t try, what’s the point? Life is about trying, again and again. Maybe some things are far too broken to be fixed, but he can piece himself up into a man every version of Ella would be proud to call hers.

Taking his position, Grayson scanned the stands quickly. His eye caught the empty seat where Ella was supposed to be and his heart sunk. She didn’t come.

Drawing a deep breath, Grayson swallows thickly.

“She’s with the cheerleaders!” Ethan shouts and Grayson’s head whips around to the cheerleaders only to find Ella waving at him.

A grin forms on his face as he waves back, wishing nothing more than to hold her in his arms. He really needs her tonight and maybe he can’t love her like he should, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her at all. This Ella, his Ella, any Ella – this woman’s soul is meant for him as much as his is meant for her. Just because he’s not the Grayson who gave her the jersey she ended up bringing back to him, doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy being the Grayson she likes. And she likes him – Grayson can tell.

Once the game started, Grayson had realized one thing - football is the way his entire being sang - a kind of music played in a way only the players and fans could hear. It was as if it is his opera, a tale of emotions told in struggle for the chance of earned glory.

Nothing could lessen the adrenaline coursing through his veins – not the mud, not the pain of being tackled nor the way he swore he’d pass out from all the running and shouting. Each time he managed to bring that football over the line, Grayson looked to Ella who jumped in excitement as if she actually cared about the result.

Deep down, Ella did care. It meant a lot to Grayson, not just winning but his position and popularity all stemmed from his ability to run with a ball without getting a concussion from a tackle. Every time he was on the ground, Ella had to physically restrain herself from running to his side. It hurt her to hear his pained grunts and for a moment, she cursed the moment she decided to ask her roommate to get her down to the field with the cheerleaders. She cashed in a favor to be closer to Grayson, regardless of the result and somehow she ended up getting a closer view of each time he was viciously brought onto the ground.

By the end, Grayson scored the winning touchdown and the crowd went wild. There isn’t a soul in that stadium that could deny the game was one of the best they’ve seen and no one doubted Grayson Dolan is a quarterback meant for much more than college football.

She saw him take his helmet off, the sweat matting his hair onto his forehead. The smile upon his lips felt like the sun itself shone upon her, especially when his hazel eyes found hers.

Fighting off his teammates' attempt to pick him up and carry him, Grayson ran straight toward her.

Ella heard about it, read about it – that moment when time seems to stop and you’re caught in between heartbeats and your breath is caught in your throat. Her heart is only human, flawed and frail and it feels as if it would give up on fighting to keep up with her emotions that explode inside her as Grayson comes closer and closer until she finds his arms around her waist and her feet off the ground.

She’s above him, her hands wrapped around his neck, fingertips buried in the hair at the back of his head. Her forehead rests atop of his, her smile as wide as his and for a moment, she throws caution out with the wind. Grayson spins them around, a throaty chuckle escaping him and his sweat doesn’t bother her even as she feels him soak her clothes. She doesn’t care about the people watching or the flashing cameras and she could care less about what anyone thinks about how odd of a pair they seem to be.

In the moment, she realizes he had wrecked her plans. She wanted to use him to gain Daniel’s affection, but he’s surprised her once again and he’s her man -  at least for the night. Ella had learned one important thing – Grayson is full of surprises and she wouldn’t mind discovering every inch of his complicated mind.

Without a warning, she leans down – stealing the few inches of distance between them. Her lips press against Grayson’s who freezes with the action. His facial features are heaven to Ella’s heart and soul, but she could be so happily mesmerized by those lips for all the days heaven grants her to come.

No longer stunned, Grayson’s dry lips join Ella’s in the public display of affection he certainly didn’t expect. In that moment of the kiss their chemistry becomes an ever-bright flame no one could deny, not even Ella.

And a sobering thought reminded her this might be just another kiss for Grayson. He may be handsome and charming, but there is a reason he’s also known as a manwhore and that thought makes her dread the future she could have with him. No matter how hard she tries, all she can see is heartbreak and he’d be fine – she would be the one to suffer, grieving for the living. He’s put roots in her heart and yet she can’t allow for them to grow.

Breaking the kiss, she draws a shuddered breath as her eyes remain closed for a moment longer. She just wants to remember it – the way he had made her feel like she’s whole, at home. It’s always going to be their first kiss, and if Ella had anything to do with it, it would be their last as well.

“Go”, she opens her eyes only to be met with his lopsided grin and a new kind of glow to his beautiful eyes. He looks blissful.

“Come with me”, his voice is hoarse, desperately holding onto her. But the moment’s passed, he can’t keep her a prisoner in his embrace forever. Grayson puts her down, his hands moving from her hips to her hands, barely holding on by their fingertips.

“You have a whole team waiting on you, a bunch of reporters and I know there are scouts who would love to talk to you. I’ll see you in the morning for our tutoring session if you don’t oversleep.” She chuckles, trying to hide how shaky she feels on the inside. Somehow, telling him to go felt deeper than that and she could see Grayson pick up on that too.

His forehead wrinkles, his eyebrows furrowing as he steps closer and she finds herself breathless. Wasn’t he close enough?

“You’re more important. Say the word and we can go anywhere you want.”

She could hear him clearly, feel the earnest tone of his voice in her bones. He seems to care about her but that promises nothing. Grayson is dangerous in the kind of way that would leave her desolate and wounded for years to come. Daniel is the safer option. The jealousy he displayed was enough to confirm her suspicions of him liking her back and she had to choose the lesser evil.

“Be by our tree in the morning and don’t leave me waiting too long, okay?” She smiles, trying to reassure him and yet his heart aches.

“I won’t drink. I’ll be there.” Grayson places a kiss on her forehead, a long lasting kind of a kiss that somehow felt more intimate than the one they shared minutes ago.

“Stay safe”, she steps back and as their hands part at the fingertips, Grayson swallows thickly. A part of him screamed at him to stay, but the other part could see Ella needed to be alone. He needed to respect her desire for space even if it hurts him.

--

Grayson honored his promise not to drink even a single drop of alcohol, despite peer pressure. He had decided that while Ella may have wanted to go home earlier, it didn’t mean he couldn’t come by and wish her a good night. Truth be told, he’d have traded the night for a moment with her, but he couldn’t destroy a life that isn’t his – not really.

He did manage to secure a few tryouts and summer program offers for himself, but when the talks were over, Grayson hit the showers and headed straight to Ella’s dorm room. 

He had one simple thought in mind – he’d admit he likes her and take her reaction for what it is. She may care for him or she may not, regardless of the outcome Grayson refused to cower and hide his feelings.

Maybe that’s why it shattered him so when he had seen her lip-locked with someone else. 

Lips parting, he felt himself sway as the gravity of the moment tore into him. She had taken his heart and she broke it apart, shredded the last bit of sanity he clung to. It feels like death, just the same as bereavement and in this quiet moment as he’s unable to avert his gaze it chokes the breath from his body and short circuits his mind. What was once whole is shattered; where once was peace now there is emptiness, echoes of a love he put his everything into.

Stumbling back, clutching his chest, Grayson walked back to his room. He can hardly remember how he got there, but he knew that he never missed his old life more. 

Ella was right, she’d never fall in love with a jock. She’d never fall in love with him in this life. 

While she was always in his head, even when he was scared to death to admit to it, Grayson seemed to be an afterthought in her head. 

He’s no longer afraid to admit the one truth he never told anyone – Grayson Dolan is wholeheartedly in love with Marizella Coleman, hopelessly hers in every universe he finds himself in.

There isn’t anything left to cling to, yet he can’t help but whisper her name under his breath – over and over, Grayson repeats her name like a lullaby until he finally falls asleep. 

--

“What exactly does this mean?” Ella traced a moon tattoo on Grayson’s chest, her interest piqued. It took five months for her and Grayson to get intimate, two more before she broke out of her shell and truly embraced that Grayson is hers. 

When she first met him, Grayson was lost. His priorities were all over the place, his mental health at an all time low and his bed was occupied by a different girl each night. 

It bothered her how careless he was with his mind and body, even more so by the fact that she wanted to give him her heart. But she bore witness to his ability to break hearts and she didn’t want to be another one in the line. 

If she was honest with herself, Grayson didn’t even know she existed. Not until he nearly knocked her out on the beach while chasing a ball. She knew him before he ever knew her and that made her careful, paranoid in a sense. If all those beautiful women couldn’t make him stay, how would she, an average girl next door, ever keep his interest long enough for him to see that she’s perfect for him?

“Nothing, it’s just pretty.” Grayson murmurs, wishing he could just wrap her up in his arms and forget about the world for the day. 

“You don’t get a tattoo because it’s pretty, Grayson”, Ella’s croaky morning voice forced his eyes open and a smile to form on his lips. He truly loves the sound of her voice more than the bird’s song.

“It’s my aesthetic”, Grayson’s cheeky smile makes her roll her eyes.

“Well then, I really shouldn’t show you the tattoo of my first boyfriend’s name then, should I?” She shrugged, turning away from Grayson who sat up quickly, his eyes wide and body rigid.

“I’D HAVE SEEN IT BY NOW”, Grayson exclaims, his voice penetratingly loud so much so Ella could hear Ethan grumble from his bedroom.

“It’s not easily noticeable”, Ella chuckles as Grayson’s jaw clicks, “But it’s my aesthetic, so it’s nothing. Maybe we can name our first born like that so it doesn’t go to waste”, she glances at Grayson with a coy look in her eyes, finding him heaving and ready to throw hands.

“Over my dead body”, Grayson growls, pulling her back to him as she yelps. Her laugh drowns out her scream as Grayson pins her down to the mattress beneath him, his hands firmly holding her by the wrists.

“Whatchu’ gonna do, big boy?” She teases him as he cocks an eyebrow, pursing his lips.

“I’ll make sure you scream my name so many times that no one ever comes to your mind again.”

--

Ella didn’t have any tattoos, but Grayson sure had fun finding out on his own. That was the first time she was no longer timid around him and he absolutely loved her teasing. Grayson didn’t enjoy remembering his Ella as much as he used to. Every memory brought him pain now that she was gone; that both of them were gone.

Avoiding Ella had become second nature and it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. 

Waking up earlier to get to practice first, leaving last had given him no time to ponder on his broken heart. He’d arrive last and leave first during classes, avoiding the tree he had met her by twice so far. She did text him, leave a few voice messages as well, but Grayson didn’t bother checking what they said. 

Why torture himself further?

However, he forgot one simple fact about Ella that seems to be universal – she’s stubborn and that stubbornness had led to him finding her asleep with a book open on her chest right before his bedroom doors.

“Jesus”, he whispers under his breath, dragging his right hand across his face before resting his hands on his hips. Licking his lips, Grayson lets out a heavy sigh, unsure what to do. He can’t be around her anymore, not when he had a taste of happiness and lost it. 

He held tightly to her because she’s Ella – because her soul speaks to his, because even in the darkest nights she would be his compass. But this Ella isn’t his Ella, she’s never going to be his Ella and he hoped he’d somehow convince himself she is. 

Truth be told, he didn’t know what he was thinking when he got involved with her. She had no recollection of their time together in his universe, she had no obligation to care about him and his feelings. She barely knows him and what she knows is scarcely him and mostly the Grayson that belongs in this universe. 

Reluctantly, Grayson taps her shoulder. She flinches, the book falling with a thud as her wide eyes fix on his figure and that’s when they narrow and set aflame.

“Where the hell have you been?!” She stands abruptly, pointing the tip of her index finger at his chest, “I’ve been trying to reach you for a week!” Poking his chest, her nostrils flare, “I thought you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere!”

Wrapping his hand around her index finger, Grayson encases her entire hand along with it. “I’m sorry, I needed time.”

“Time? Time for what?” She frowns, the horizontal line between her eyebrows forming. 

“To make my peace with you and Kenny”, he sighs. He watches her face change from a frown to disbelief and when she rolls her eyes, he knows she’s annoyed with him.

“It’s Danny and he’s not my anything.” Placing her free hand on his cheek, she cocks her head to the left ever so slightly, “He’s not even a friend anymore. I don’t give a shit about him.”

“So why was he kissing you on game night?” Grayson counters, lips pressed in a thin line while hers part.

“Were you stalking me?”

Shaking his head, Grayson releases her hand while dragging the other one away from his face. 

“No. I wanted to see you and I did. With him.” Clenching his jaw, Grayson felt a wave of jealousy wash over him and it didn’t help that Ella had chuckled dryly.

“He kissed me and I was shocked but I pushed him away. And I told him I’m taken.” Licking her lips, she averts her gaze to the thread hanging from his sleeve. “By you”, she continues, “I told him you’re the one and I went inside and went to sleep.”

“You chose me?” Grayson releases a shaky breath, unsure what to do. “You can’t choose me, Ella.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, she steps back, “Oh! You don’t like me?” She swallows thickly, folding her arms across her chest. In all the scenarios she had made up in her head, him not liking her back was never one of them. It mortified her how silly she must look to him.

“No, no, I do!” Grayson stops her before she spirals, cupping her cheeks gently, “I like you, if I’m being completely honest, but I’m not…” Closing his eyes, Grayson smiles in disbelief over what he’s about to say, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I have to be honest.”

“You’re scaring me”, she says softly, her voice shaky. 

“If I told you I’m Grayson from an alternative universe and that we’re a couple in that universe, would you believe me?” 

Her breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. “Okay, that’s cute, but I don’t think it’s time for jokes.”

“You started writing a book when you were sixteen and you never told anyone.” Grayson states and she stumbles back, eyes wide. She had never spoken aloud of her book, never once. That book remains in a locked folder on her old laptop, not even she had laid her eyes on it in two years. She gave up on it completely. 

“How?”

“You absolutely adore the ocean and believe you were a mermaid in a previous life.” Grayson continues as Ella pales.

“You’ve always hated coffee, but if you have to drink it you add half a cup of milk and four sugar cubes.”

Shaking her head, she runs her hands through her hair, unable to comprehend what Grayson is saying.

“You’ve always been terrified of the dark, so you sleep with a pink turtle nightlight you’ve had since you were ten. You have a beauty mark between your breasts you absolutely hate and are insecure about, but I find it sexy as hell.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL OF THAT?” Ella shouts in panic, her breathing labored. 

“Because I know you. From a different universe, but it’s you. And I love you. With all my heart and I know this is crazy, but I woke up here and everything changed overnight.” Slumping to the ground, Grayson hides his face in his hands. “And I fucking miss her. I miss my Ella so, so much and I have never been worthy of her, but she loves me anyway and I’m here.”

A hand on his shoulder makes his heart skip a beat, bearing her weight as she uses him to slide to the ground next to him. 

“What is she like?” Ella’s shaky hand slides down his arm, slipping into his hand. She’s quiet, defeated by the news, in shock if she’s entirely honest. It’s way too much all at once and she never thought it could be possible she’d like Grayson Dolan so much it hurt to imagine him with anyone, even if that someone is herself.

“She sold that book and is writing a second book while studying. And she’s kind, witty and shy but incredibly outgoing with people she’s comfortable with.” Grayson doesn’t even notice the smile on his face as he speaks of his Ella, but this Ella does. She’s jealous of her alternative self for having a guy like Grayson smile as he mentions her. She hates her other self for being brave enough to publish the book and live her dreams...well, old dreams. She’s not dreaming about being a writer anymore.

“I love her, but I was afraid to tell her that. I was afraid of fully committing myself to her.” Grayson admits, unsure what good it does him now.

“When did you wake up here?” She interrupts him, wanting to know what was him and what wasn’t. Has it always been this Grayson? Did she spend all this time falling in love with the wrong guy?

“Woke up with a killer headache after some frat party. Think it was that party when he gave you the jersey.” Grayson glances at her, noticing a small smile upon her lips.

“So it was him then”, she sighs. Leaning her head on the door, she closes her eyes. “But all of this was you.”

“Yeah.” Grayson intertwines their fingers, seeking comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Ella shrugs, “That Grayson wouldn’t have bothered with me.”

“That Grayson is a manwhoring mess.” Grayson chuckles, “But I was the same before I met my Ella. Maybe he just needs a nudge in the right direction.”

“Is it bad if I wish you to stay here?” Ella’s voice is quiet and wobbly, just above a whisper and it catches Grayson off guard.

“Is it bad if I say I fell in love with you just as I fell for my Ella?” Grayson counters and she lets out a breathless chuckle.

“It’s not bad, I mean I’m still Ella. Just on a different path in life.” Shrugging, she leans her head on Grayson’s shoulder, “Maybe that Grayson is you on a different path too? Maybe he doesn’t need an Ella of his own?”

Wrapping an arm around Ella, Grayson brings her closer to him, “Every Grayson needs an Ella.”

And in the silence, they found the comfort they both seek. It’s not right, but it felt perfect.

“You two are gloomy.” Ethan states, scaring them both. They were perfectly content staring at nothing in particular, just sitting there with the inner struggle wrecking them apart.

“You should wear a bell”, Grayson remarks and Ethan rolls his eyes.

“When you say shit like that, I genuinely can’t tell the difference”, Ethan steps aside, trying to get to the door.

“Does he know?” Ella asks and Grayson nods.

“Yeah, he’s the only one who knew.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Ethan glares at Grayson, “So you told her?”

“Yup”, Ella exclaims.

“Great!” Ethan opens the door, letting the pair fall on their backs with a string of curses from Grayson’s mouth and a small yelp from Ella’s. 

Grayson barely got up to his feet, helping Ella up as well when Ethan screamed, “KRISTINA FOLLOWED ME BACK!”

--

Laying on the bed with Grayson beside her, Ella wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Part of her thought she’s insane for believing him so quickly, yet another part of her knew with absolute certainty that no one couldn’t know the details he mentioned a few weeks ago and that if he knew them, the other version of her must have truly loved him to spill the beans.

Ever since then, they’ve been inseparable. Ella knew it was unwise to spend so much time with Grayson, to get involved more than she already has. One day, she’d wake up next to the other Grayson and she’d be left alone. It would be over before it started and she didn’t know how to accept the fact he’s never going to be hers. Not really.

“What are you thinking about?” Grayson breaks the silence, noticing she’s deep in thought.

“About the day I wake up to the other you.” She admits and Grayson frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. He’s never going to get used to how straightforward this Ella is. He both loves and fears that about her.

“You think it’s gonna happen?”

Nodding, she sighs, “I just feel it. It’s unexplainable.”

Swallowing thickly, Grayson licks his lips, “If it does, don’t give up on me.” 

Grayson’s eyes flicker to her lips only to pull away before he dares to even think about it further. They may be spending all of this time together and sleep in the same bed most nights, but they’ve never once kissed since the night of the game. Ella said she wanted to give her other self some much deserved respect and not cheat though she wasn’t sure if it qualified as cheating either.

“You? That won’t be you, Gray.” Ella rubs her nose, sniffling. “He won’t be you, just like I’ll never be Ella for you. Which sucks.” Tears brim her long eyelashes, tugging at Grayson’s heartstrings.

“You are Ella. Even though you’re a little braver and confident, you’re her and she is you.” Grayson tries, but Ella shakes her head.

“No. That’s not true! I don’t have her memories or experiences and that’s what shapes a person. That Grayson won’t be you and truth be told, I’m not sure if I want him at all.” Sitting up, she hides her face in her hands.

 “I’m not braver either, I’m just rougher around the edges. I could never publish that book like she did or move to Los Angeles and date a famous YouTuber.” Breathing fast, Ella felt like her head would explode.

“Hey, hey, hey”, Grayson says softly, his hands running up and down her back in hopes of soothing her. “Ells, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” She exclaims, “I want you and I can’t have you! I can’t be with you when you’re already mine but in a different world and even if I ignore that, I can’t ignore the fact that sometime, even ten years down the line I could wake up to the other Grayson instead of you and it’s making me crazy!”

Wrapping his arms around Ella, Grayson held her close as she wept long into the night and he had never quite understood all the stories of the way your entire being hurts when your heart is broken and his heart is fucking shattered.

He’s holding the reason for his existence in his arms and he can’t ease her pain because he’s the cause of it. He wants to love her and she wants to love him back, but they can’t and Ella is right – even if he ignored the fact he’s not from her universe and went for it, there was no telling how long he’d be there.

In a spiritual life, much like the physical, there is an inhale and an exhale; the soul needs to inhale the feelings of another soul in order to claim them, to enrich them before returning it in an exhale. Without this, there is no life for the heart, without it, the heart is suffocating, suffering, withering.

And that’s exactly how Grayson and Ella feel right now – suffocating, suffering, withering.

As her breathing evens out and Grayson realizes she’s fallen asleep despite the occasional sob she lets out in her sleep, he looks up at the ceiling and sighs heavily as if the world’s weight is crushing him.

“Please make this right. For her sake. I don’t even care what happens to me, just make Ella happy again. Please.”

And when Grayson closed his eyes, he never imagined it would be the last night he spends in her bed.

--

With closed eyes, Grayson reached out for Ella. He didn’t remember when she slipped out of his arms in the night, but he wouldn’t consciously keep it that way. Having her close felt like a lifeline for Grayson, even if they were trying to keep it platonic. Too often did he consider just moving on with her, pretending as if his life is in a universe made not for him.

He wanted to stay and help Ethan get with Kristina, to help his sister start her own design company if she was still interested in that field or to simply go home and see his family. He wondered far too often how they were, but he never dared to ask Ethan about it. It’s a sore subject for Grayson, even now. He imagined it was the same for Ethan.

“Ella?” He grumbles, squinting to find her when his arm fails. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks at the much larger bed he’s on with a concerned look upon his face. “What the –“, he starts only to recognize the bed-sheets Ella spent three days making a pro/con list for. “Oh God”, Grayson jumps to his feet, looking around wildly.

The lamp next to his bed is replaced by an old alarm clock, his windows are covered with drapes he doesn’t remember having and the floor is covered in clothes Grayson never saw in his life. Looking down, he finds his thighs are covered in tattoos and a choked sob escapes him.

He’s not sure if he’s happy or not about the possibility of being in his own universe again. There is still a chance he’s in a new universe altogether, but even if he’s back home, what exactly is he coming home to? What exactly did he leave behind?

That Ella must have had a shock of a lifetime when she woke up to the manwhore version of himself and he wished he could apologize to her for it, but he’ll never get to see her or talk to her again.

And then he remembered, “Ella”, he breathed out as he ran to the door. He’s not sure if she’s even there, if she even stayed after the switch brought his worst self to her bed and he realized his Ella had woken up to that Grayson too.

Heart in his throat, Grayson stumbles as he heads to the kitchen where he hears movement. He isn’t sure what is waiting for him here, but when he sees the messy bun he always loved to untangle and the back of her neck that he loved to kiss, Grayson felt his heart stop.

Swallowing thickly, he stood there, frozen at the sight of her. She’s so close that he could have her in his arms in a few steps, but would she forgive him if he told her he kissed the other Ella? Would she forgive him if he told her he had started liking the life he had in that universe?

Wetting his lips, he lets his heart guide him as his feet take him closer and once he’s there, his arms wrap around her on instinct. His head rests on her shoulder and he can feel her tense up, but he’s barely holding back tears as he inhales her familiar scent.

Grayson missed Ella in every possible way. His soul yearned for hers and being back in her presence had made him crumble.

“What are you doing?” She groans, trying to unwrap his arms from around her waist. “I told you I will never sleep with you!” She raises her voice as she slaps at his hands and Grayson finally snaps out of it, releasing her.

She whips around, eyes narrowed at Grayson who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Pointing the tip of her index finger at his chest, Ella’s nostrils flare, “You have to stop this! I’m not a toy you can play with whenever you feel like it. I’m in pain!” She exclaims, pausing as she averts her gaze and her hand drops, “Do you even know what seeing you feels for me?” She sniffles as tears fill her eyes. “You’re wearing his face and body, but you’re too different. You’ve become better, you’ve done the work, but I love him. I can’t just forget about that.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Grayson felt his heart break further. It never occurred to him how hard this might have been for his Ella. She was stuck with the manwhore who would have broken her heart and he did. It was a relief she knew it wasn’t him, at least. His Ella knew better than the other Ella.

“And I love you”, Grayson manages a smile, “I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.”

“What?” Ella crosses her arms, looking at him as if he’s offended her.

“It’s me, Ella. I’m back.” Grayson tries reaching out for her hand only to have her shake her head and move away. She’s physically revolted by his presence while he’s aching for a smile from her pressed lips.

“You’ve tried this before. I’m not going to fall for your shitty tricks”, Ella heaves, a hand placed on her chest as her tears spill over.

“He tried this?!” Grayson practically growls, slamming his fist on the countertop. “Did he touch you?” Grayson’s jaw clenches as he looks to a shaky Ella who isn’t sure what to say or believe anymore. It’s like she’s drowning with no help in sight.

“Please stop”, she croaks, “I thought you and I were friends now.”

Chuckling dryly, Grayson shakes his head, “Your pet fish was called Goldie because she was gold. Your turtle Rocky bit her tail off and she died.” Stepping closer, he points at her chest, “You have a birthmark right between your breasts.” Pursing his lips, he wonders what else he could tell her. Her eyes are wide, glistening with tears, but he has to let her know it’s him. “When we first met you called me and Ethan snotty teenagers. You hate my decorating skills and you hate my snoring.”

“Grayson?” Her voice is shaky as she steps closer, reaching her trembling hand out. Her palm finds its way to his cheek and Grayson leans into it with a soft sigh. “You came back to me?”

Taking her face in his hands, he rests his forehead on hers, “I did.”

“It’s been so hard”, she whispers and he closes his eyes.

“You were right, you know?” Grayson’s nose brushes hers, “You wouldn’t like the jock Grayson. But I really liked college Ella.” 

Grayson often debated if he should be honest with Ella if he somehow made his way back home and despite his doubts, he remembers their relationship is founded on honesty. He promised her he’d always tell her the truth and he couldn’t look her in the eye and ignore the fact he had felt a little heartbroken about the Ella he left behind.

“You met me?” She steps back, wanting to look at him better.

“I’ll always find you”, Grayson smiles.

“You fell for her, didn’t you?” Ella steps back, hurt flashing behind her brown eyes.

“I did fall for her”, Grayson admits, “But I love you.”

Staring at Grayson, Ella didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to feel either. Would she be right to hold it against him? After all, it was still her. Grayson loved her, in every universe. So why does it feel like he had cheated on her? Why does her heart bleed?

“Did you touch her like you touch me?”

Breaking eye contact, Grayson leans on the countertops, “I kissed her once.”

“Once”, Ella chuckles dryly. “I almost had sex with the other you, but at least I didn’t know the truth. You knew the girl you were kissing wasn’t really me. She’s someone I will never be and she will never be me.”

“Please don’t hate me”, Grayson croaks as tears form in his eyes. He’s not ready to lose her, but he’s not ready to keep her with him by lying. She deserves better and he knows that.

“I don’t hate you, Grayson”, she lets out a shuddered breath, “I wish I did. It would be easier.”

“Easier?” Grayson’s eyebrows furrow when she takes her bag and puts it over her shoulder.

“I need some time and I need you not to look for me.” It was killing her to do this, to take a step back from their relationship. Ella needed some perspective, to find a way to breathe again and being close to Grayson always felt like she was trying to keep her head above the crashing waves.

“Ella”, Grayson reaches for her but she recoils from him, again. She had done it once when she thought it was his other self, but she knew this was him. She still didn’t want him.

“I have never asked anything from you, but I need this.” Ella covers her mouth to stop a sob from passing her lips as she turns from Grayson and heads for the door only to run into Ethan and Kristina.

Kristina is quick to wrap her arms around Ella, both of them leaving through the front door.

But Ethan wasn’t leaving. He turned to Grayson with a stone cold look in his eyes and headed for him with a formed fist prepared to leave a mark.

“What did you do?!” Ethan shouted, ready to lay Grayson out in a single punch.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Grayson circles the countertops so he’d be on a different side from Ethan who wanted blood.

“Whoa! It’s me, E! It’s Grayson! I’m back!” Grayson insisted as he ran in circles with Ethan, “YOUR FIRST TIME WAS WHEN YOU WERE 17!” He shouts and Ethan stops, eyes wide. “You also drank a beer when you were 16, but you’d never admit it. You hated onions as a kid!”

“Grayson?”

--

“How cool was the other me?” Ethan smirks as Grayson rolls his eyes, unsure if he should be annoyed or angry at his brother for not doing a better job at protecting Ella from the other Grayson who had clearly left her broken with issues he didn’t know how to resolve.

“You were single as fuck and a nerd”, Grayson sighs, “Kristina wasn’t even an acquaintance and the car you drove was more like a trash can running on fumes.”

Staring blankly, Ethan swallows thickly, “I don’t like that universe.”

“I liked it”, Grayson covers his face with his hands, his voice filled with remorse. “I didn’t know my life here was imploding while I was living the life I genuinely prefer over this one.”

“You’re saying college football was better than this house?” Ethan raises an eyebrow, “The money we have, the world we’ve seen, people we’ve met?”

Nodding, Grayson drags his palms down his face, “It was so much better.”

“Well, good for you. Meanwhile Kristina and I were dealing with a manwhore baby Grayson with no impulse control who was a pathological liar and manipulator.” Flicking a crumb from the countertop onto Grayson, Ethan continues, “Ella cried herself to sleep every night and we didn’t know what the fuck is happening.”

“She said she almost slept with him”, Grayson gulps audibly, unsure if he’s feeling guilty over the position that put her in, angry she’s angry at him when she nearly did something worse or jealous over the fact she had been touched by what seems to be the demonic version of him.

“You literally admitted to kissing the other Ella, I hardly think you have any room to judge anything she did Grayson.” Ethan’s tone is cold, his words harsh but truthful. Grayson has no right to be angry or jealous, he was a willing participant while his Ella was tricked.

“I can’t explain it”, Grayson runs his fingers through his hair, moving it away from his forehead. Truth be told, he got used to the short hair from the other universe, he couldn’t wait to cut it again. “She was still Ella. They had their differences, but she was still Ella and the more time I spent with her, less I wanted to be away from her.”

“Look, this is uncharted territory. We can’t exactly define any rules in a situation that had no rules, so just give her a moment to deal with this on her own terms.” Ethan places his hand on Grayson’s shoulder, hoping to comfort his brother but even he was having issues looking at him normally after everything the other Grayson did.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Grayson frowns, lips parted as Ethan’s eyes widen.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m about to fuck something up”, Grayson’s frown deepens as Ethan presses his lips together, genuinely having flashbacks to the insanity of manwhore Grayson and the stress he caused.

“I’m just waiting for you to start complaining about the tattoos or fake gag at vegan food or order a bunch of fried chicken or maybe scream about a game you’re missing.” Ethan rambles on as Grayson cackles, shaking his head.

“Man, I’m a dick!”

“Oh, no, the dick part was you hitting on Ella and then winking at every cute girl in your way.” Ethan raises both eyebrows as he shrugs, “I did smack you every time I could tho’, Kris did too.”

“Good”, Grayson exhales through his nose, his lips pressed as his eyes fall to his hands. “I really didn’t want to hurt her. Either Ella”, Grayson’s voice is meek, defeated and the empty look in his eyes speaks volumes of the weight that’s been forced upon his heart.

“I know”, Ethan manages a smile, “You’ll get her back.”

“Think so?” Grayson raises his eyebrows, an inkling of hope lingering deep behind his brown hues.

Ethan’s smile widens in an instant, “Know so.”

--

In this broken world Ella is Grayson’s world, his healer, his light and love, good women are that way. He missed her, more and more as each day passed and while it seemed like the world was spinning madly on, Grayson’s life felt like it stopped the day she walked out the door.

Kristina came back hours later, but Ella didn’t. What made it worse is that whatever Ella shared with Kristina had turned her against Grayson as well. She didn’t want to speak to him, much less to convey his messages to Ella and Grayson was sure they were in contact.

This heartbreak was unexpected, as they always are - top of the world one minute and cut down the next. Grayson expected to be blissful if he ever found his way back, but he only found misery. He could only blame himself for having broken not one, but three hearts the night he made his way back home.

Oftentimes, Grayson wondered what happened with the other Grayson and Ella when they woke up together, sharing a single bed. Did he once again try to lie and manipulate Ella or was he decent enough to tell her the truth.

Grayson feared he didn’t. He could only hope he was better with her, for her. Ella deserved that much and he believed she was more compatible with manwhore Grayson anyway. If anyone can whip him back into shape it would be her.

And his Ella, his beautiful, kind Ella…He thought about her all the time. What is she up to? Where is she? Is she as lonely as he is?

He failed her, both of them. He failed himself too.

Hearing Ethan talk about the constant stress the other Grayson put on her, their fights, her refusal to walk away because she hoped it would get better. She didn’t give up on him then, even though he was his worst self, but she walked away when she heard he had made a conscious decision to kiss someone else. 

He betrayed her trust and despite feeling guilty, he couldn’t regret it. Meeting her in a different universe only convinced him she’s his soulmate more. He couldn’t imagine life without her, in any reality.

And as a month passed, Grayson found it impossible to sleep in the bed he once shared with Ella. He preferred to sleep on the couch, even if his back felt broken in the morning. The pain was comforting compared to the loneliness the bed evoked. It was better off this way. He hated himself in that bed, he blamed himself every night and morning.

Closing his eyes, Grayson felt a tear roll down his temple. If he’s entirely honest, he’s not sure if he’s just too fucked up to ever love anyone like he loves Ella. He swallows thickly as his heart clenches in pain as his senses trick him into believing she’s with him.

For a moment, he could have sworn he smelled her perfume, the one he was absolutely smitten with. She wore it when they first met, she wore it when they first kissed and she wore it when they first became one. That perfume signifies all their firsts, all the good memories and even the fights he remembers carry a nostalgic happiness to them. Fighting is better than the silence she left him in. If she’s fighting, she cares but when she stops, that’s when crippling fear takes place and Grayson’s been consumed by that fear for too long.

A weight falls on him, a warmth engulfing him. The scent is stronger now, almost like she’s still there with him and in a moment of weakness, Grayson’s lips pass a strangled sob from deep within twenty one grams of soul and the sanity he once possessed.

“Don’t cry”, a raspy voice fills the silence and Grayson’s heart nearly stops. He’s hallucinating now, clearly he’s lost his mind. “If you cry, I cry”, the voice returns as a whisper and Grayson’s not sure if it’s all a dream.

Opening his eyes, he gasps once he sees Ella’s head resting on his chest. She’s laid upon him like a safety blanket, a tad too short to truly cover him but effective in its intent.

“You’re here”, Grayson breathes out and her head moves up so her eyes meet his.

“I couldn’t trust you, I didn’t even trust myself that day. I didn’t dare let you near me scared that I’ll lose you the same, but I can’t let that fear dictate my life and I can’t bear the pain of staying away.”

Running his hand down her back, Grayson pulls her up ever so slightly so he could easily kiss her lips if she allowed him to. He wanted to be able to see every change in her eyes, every line of her face.

“I love you”, he stops her from speaking, finding her apologies unnecessary. She had enough of heartbreak for both of them when he disappeared.

“Don’t let me run again”, her voice breaks and Grayson notices the tears pricking at her eyes, “I know I asked you to let me go, but don’t. I got mad and insecure, but I love you. So don’t ever let me leave again.”

Brushing the tip of his nose against hers, Grayson’s lips curl at the corners, “Never.”

“Do you want to tell me how awesome the other me was?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly as Gray gives her a slight shake of his head.

“Well, you were crushing on some dick Dougie”, Grayson starts and her eyebrows furrow in confusion before her mouth opens wide.

“You mean Danny?!”

The excited tone instantly put a frown on Grayson’s face, making Ella chuckle.

“He was my first ever boyfriend back home!” She continues, further aggravating Grayson who could no longer hold back. He told himself he’d be more patient, but it’s a work in progress and he needed her to stop talking, so he did the most natural thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

Before she could withdraw, his arms were around her. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew that she was kissing him back.

It’s like opening up your soul to tasting, feeling and seeing every color of the rainbow in their own sensual way. For Ella it felt almost like catching Grayson’s smile in a bottle, its softness, its sweetness, the slight arrogance that provoked a reaction of her insatiable need for his touch. Kissing Grayson felt just like breathing oxygen she needs to keep her heart beating. His kisses warm the soul. His kisses are right. He is right; for her, with her, he’s the part of her she can’t imagine her future without.

“Never mention Doyle when you’re in my arms”, Grayson whispers against her lips, “Don’t mention Dairy, ever again”, Grayson adds while she giggles, amused by his absolute refusal to say the name right. “That would have been an awful tattoo”, he adds as she chuckles.

“If this is my punishment, I might be inclined to break that rule”, she winks, “Often”.

For a moment, Grayson stopped and stared. She didn’t seem shy or less brave than the other Ella at all. She felt brazen, unapologetically her and Grayson realized for once and all, his Ella, as complicated as she may be, is absolute perfection.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a man of my words, isn’t it?” Grayson’s smirk is gone once his lips claim Ella’s again and she releases a satisfied moan in response. It was the kind of kiss that was so intoxicating your brain couldn’t handle thinking about anything else.

“I love you”, Grayson whispers against her lips, “I love you”, he repeats. “I love you, I love you, I love you”, he peppers her face and neck with feather light kisses, repeating his ‘I love you’ over and over like a prayer that was finally answered.

No matter what was in store for them, Grayson believed they would find their way back to each other. After all, they’re meant to be and for once, he didn’t doubt that saying. 

People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

You said to put a rebuke prompt in here sO what about a sickfic? Luke is sick and Reggie and Bobby try to take care of him but then Reggie gets sick and all that's left is a grumpy Bobby who is tired of their dumbassery

Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it!! My first try at rebuke, but hopefully not my last ;)

read on ao3 here!

--

The minute Bobby gets to school, he knows today’s going to be kind of a disaster.

His first clue? Luke’s not there yet. He’s not exactly late, and isn’t in any real danger of being so—it’s only 7:30, and the first bell doesn’t ring until 7:55—but if Bobby’s being honest, he can’t remember the last time Luke wasn’t early. Usually, by the time Bobby gets to school, Luke’s already bouncing around the halls somewhere, playing his guitar in the stairwell or pretending to flirt with girls outside the library or trying to break into Bobby’s locker because Bobby refuses to give Luke his combination.

Luke doesn’t like school, but he likes being at home even less. And at least at school, his friends are there.

His friends are there now—two of them at least—but Luke isn’t.

It just doesn’t bode well for things to come, in Bobby’s opinion.

“Hey,” Reggie says when he meets Bobby at his locker, blindly bumping Bobby’s fist as he glances up and down the hallway. “Luke’s not here yet?”

“Guess not.” Bobby shuts his locker and shoulders his backpack. “Alex still home sick?”

“Think so,” Reggie confirms with a nod. “He said on the phone last night he was gonna try to be back today for a Spanish test, but I don’t know, he sounded pretty rough.”

Bobby grimaces. “Better he stay home and not infect the rest of us. He can always retake a Spanish test.”

“Yeah, but you know Alex.” Reggie shrugs. “If he’s not back, can I come over tonight? Since we won’t rehearse, I mean, just—just to hang out?”

A smile pulls at Bobby’s lips as his stomach does a weird, not unpleasant, flip flop. “Yeah, man, of course you can. Luke too?”

Reggie grins. “Of course!”

Bobby nods and turns back to his locker, fiddling pointlessly with the lock so that Reggie won’t see him blushing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Alex—he does, a lot—he just… likes Alex as a friend. And he likes Reggie… and Luke… more than that… or differently… or something.

It’s stupid, and hell if Bobby knows how to put the damn thing into words, but… he figures the more time he gets to spend with just Luke and Reggie, the better. Even if it means taking advantage of the few times Alex isn’t available to make plans.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Reggie and Bobby hang around his locker, talking about their gig coming up in a couple weeks and the math homework Bobby didn’t do and whether it’s likely for Bobby’s finicky TV to be working well enough for them to play Super Mario Bros. after school today.

At 7:52, just when they’re starting to consider giving up and going to class, Luke appears at his own locker, about halfway down the hall.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls, bouncing over to him. “We thought you weren’t gonna show up today.”

Bobby follows, and the closer he gets to Luke, the more dread bubbles up in his stomach. Luke slumps against his locker, not even reacting to Reggie’s words. He looks pale and flushed at the same time, his nose and cheeks an alarming shade of cherry, and his hands tremble slightly as he tries to put his locker combination in.

Bobby stops short a good ten feet away as the pieces fall into place in his head, and before he can think of the right thing to say, what comes out is, “You look like shit.”

Luke’s response is a little delayed. When he does raise his eyes to Bobby, they’re glassy and dull, and his self-deprecating laugh and mumbled little, “Thanks, Bobs, that’s real nice,” come out so painfully hoarse that Bobby swears he feels his own throat sting in sympathy.

He takes another step back. Luke doesn’t just look terrible; he looks contagious.

Reggie, it seems, has no such reservations. He sidles right up to Luke and slings an arm around his shoulders; Luke immediately leans back into Reggie’s hold, his expression crumpling with relief like maybe he was having trouble holding up his weight on his own.

“Aw, Luke,” Reggie coos, rubbing Luke’s arm. “Did you catch Alex’s cold?”

“No,” Luke grumbles petulantly, and then contradicts himself by coughing into Reggie’s shoulder (Bobby flinches). “Maybe,” Luke amends. “But it’s Alex’s dumb saliva’s fault.”

Bobby’s stomach flips again. This time, it’s a little unpleasant. When have Luke and Alex been… sharing saliva?

“Well, Luke, bro, you shouldn’t have taken a sip of his drink when you knew he wasn’t feeling well,” Reggie chides, parental but for the most part unconcerned.

Luke pouts. “But he had a milkshake, and I couldn’t afford to get my own, and it seemed like a good idea in the moment, it was yummy!”

Relief surges through Bobby so intensely he almost feels faint with it—so Luke and Alex weren’t kissing. Okay. Good.

Not that he should have any say in what his friends do with their mouths on their own time, he just… he’d like to know about it ahead of time, if at all possible. Maybe be involved himself sometimes, that’d be nice.

Again. Stupid.

“Why are you even here?” Bobby asks, and it comes out harsher than he meant it to; Reggie and Luke both look up at him, frowning. He clears his throat and tries to soften his tone. “I mean. You should’ve stayed home, if you’re sick.”

Luke grimaces, and reluctantly pulls out of Reggie’s grip when the bell rings shrilly above them. “Mom wouldn’t let me,” he says with a wet sniff, yanking his locker open and grabbing a stack of books seemingly at random. “I didn’t have a fever, and I may have been known to fake a cold to get out of stuff once or twice… a month…” He shrugs, and drags a wrist under his nose. “Guess I wasn’t convincing enough this time.”

“This wasn’t convincing?” Bobby’s backed up another few feet, unable to take his eyes off Luke’s dripping nose, which he just wiped with his hand—God, who raised him? How and why in God’s green earth does Bobby ever find him attractive?

“In Mrs. P’s defense,” Reggie says cheerfully, “Luke’s really good at faking.”

Luke slams his locker closed. “Whatever, I’m fine. Let’s just get to class, Bobby. We’ll see you later, Reg.”

He starts, stumbling, down the hallway, toward the history class he and Bobby share. Bobby and Reggie exchange a look behind his back—Reggie’s is concerned, Bobby’s more than a little disgusted.

“Keep an eye on him, will you?” Reggie pleads. “Just until I see you guys at lunch?”

Bobby glances over at Luke, who’s paused a little ways down the hall to have a coughing fit into the crook of his arm—sleeveless, of course. “How close an eye are we talking?”

Reggie’s smile turns tolerant. “Please, Bobby? For me?”

Well, fuck, what is he supposed to say to that? He nods, stammers out a reply, and turns toward his classroom, just in time to see Luke careen forward with a spraying, uncovered sneeze.

Bobby shudders, hefts his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and tries not to breathe.

“He better not get me sick,” he grumbles to himself, and goes to drag Luke into class.

***

They get about fifteen, twenty minutes in before Bobby starts to think, yeah, no, no way in hell this is gonna work.

Luke is struggling.

First of all, he can barely sit up straight and keep his eyes open, much less pay attention to the lecture, so Bobby highly doubts he’s learning anything. He sniffles more than breathes, coughs more than talks, and gets up out of his seat to get a tissue from the front of the room so often that their teacher Mrs. Carroll eventually just nods for him to take the whole box back to his desk.

Every time he sneezes, Bobby cringes and scoots his desk a few more inches away. Every time he coughs, Bobby sinks lower in his chair, trying to surreptitiously pull the collar of his hoodie over his mouth. Every time he blows his nose, and just leaves the dirty tissues sitting in a gross little pile on his desk, Bobby wonders how the fuck they’re even friends.

When the bell rings, Luke slumps back in his chair and coughs into a fresh wad of tissues for a full minute and a half, while their classmates file out of the room around them, giving Luke grossed-out looks as they pass.

Bobby doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed on Luke’s behalf, considering they’re totally justified in their disgust. Mrs. Carroll catches his eye from her desk at the front of the classroom, and before she can so much as mouth, Maybe you should take him to the nurse, Bobby nods and holds up a finger as if to say, No, yeah, I’m on it.

“Hey,” he says, kicking the leg of Luke’s chair. “Pack up your stuff, sicky, you’re going home.”

Luke frowns at him, tissues still held over his face, muffling his already stuffy protest. “What? No, I’m—”

“Shut up,” Bobby cuts him off. “I don’t care if you claim you’re fine, I don’t care if your mom will be pissed, you look and sound like shit, I’m taking you back to my place until someone can pick you up. No arguments, you hear me?”

Luke just looks at him for a moment, and Bobby worries he’s going to fight back again, but then something shifts in his expression, and he just looks so tired all of a sudden. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, okay, I—I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Bobby lets out a breath. “Good. Me too.”

It takes longer than it should to get Luke out of his seat and to the door, even after Bobby takes his books from him so that all Luke has to carry is his box of tissues. Mrs. Carroll writes them both hall passes, and doesn’t fight Bobby when he says he probably won’t be back for her government class in the afternoon.

They walk slowly down the school hallway, Luke leaning heavily into Bobby’s side so he doesn’t stumble. Bobby almost manages not to think about the germs Luke is almost definitely passing to him, because his own health doesn’t matter as much as Luke’s right now. Bobby’s worry for him is hotter, more present, in his chest than any anxiety or germaphobia.

And that worry only grows when they get to the nurse’s office and find Reggie sitting on a plastic-covered bed waiting for them.

“There you guys are!” he says cheerfully, grinning and swinging his legs like a kid. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last the whole period.”

“The hell are you doing here?” Bobby asks as he guides Luke into a chair.

“Felt like I was gonna throw up,” Reggie explains, then gives Bobby an exaggerated wink he doesn’t understand.

“You did? Are you okay?”

Reggie’s brows knit together. “No—Bobby, that’s just what I told Miss Ellison so I could get out of English class. I wanted to meet you guys down here so I could go with you when you leave.”

Bobby frowns. There’s a lot going on today, he doesn’t have a whole lot of brainpower to spend on Reggie’s riddles. And he’s definitely missing something here.

Apparently, Luke is just as confused. “Wait,” he croaks, sniffling and slumped over in his chair. “You’re sick, too, Reg?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “No, Luke, not really. I just pretended so that I could go home with you guys. You are going home, right?”

“Yeah, he barely lasted one class, he’s not staying the whole day,” Bobby says, ignoring the petulant glare Luke shoots him.

“Then I’m going with you.” Reggie glances nervously between them. “Unless… you don’t want me to?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “No, I want both of you. Please.”

Reggie grins. Bobby’s stomach flips.

“Fine, I guess we’re all sick, then,” he grumbles, ducking his head to hide his blush, and points to Luke and Reggie each in turn. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It’s unfairly easy for Bobby to convince the nurse to let him drive Luke and Reggie home, since they’re both “so sick” (he doesn’t even have to pretend to be sick himself. The nurse takes one look at Luke and agrees to let Bobby go with him for no reason, if only to get his germ-ridden friend off school property).

It’s a little less easy to call Emily Patterson at work and explain to her that he’s Luke’s friend, no, ma’am, he’s really sick, I don’t mind taking him back to my house until you get off work, yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure he gets all his homework, etc, etc, etc.

Reggie’s parents don’t even pick up. Bobby has a fake conversation with “Reggie’s dad” just so he can tell the nurse with some level of confidence that Reggie’s been given permission to go home with him, too. He’s not sure she believes him. He doesn’t think she cares.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Bobby says when he returns to find Luke lying on the bed with his eyes closed, head in Reggie’s lap, sniffling into Reggie’s pant leg while Reggie strokes his hair back out of his face.

“I think he’s got a fever now,” he says, which is not at all a response to what Bobby said. “Are we ready to go?”

Bobby gives a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

***

As Luke gets worse, he also gets clingier. Which, really, Bobby should’ve expected. It’s one thing in the car, where Bobby can roll the windows down and focus on driving while Luke stretches out all over Reggie in the backseat, coughing and sniffling and ignoring Bobby whenever he reminds him to cover his damn mouth.

Once they get back to his house, though, Bobby washes his hands about fifteen times in a row, then heads into the studio with the intention of recommending that Reggie do the same, only to find Reggie and Luke curled up on the pull-out couch together, fast asleep.

For a minute or two, Bobby just stands there, watching them. Both of them idiots, one of them disgusting, and yet… god, he loves both of them so much. How fucking stupid is that?

Luke’s gonna get Reggie sick, if he hasn’t already; that’s just an inevitability at this point. And then one or both of them is going to get Bobby sick, and it’s going to suck, because colds always hit Bobby super hard for no good reason, which is why he tries so hard to avoid catching them.

But a few days of misery is worth it, he guesses, if he can spend today taking Luke’s temperature and rubbing his back and forcing Vitamin C on both him and Reggie until they’re both sick of him.

And at least, whatever happens, he can blame this whole thing on Alex.

--

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[flooffybits]

What About Us?

Idol: Jennie Kim (Blackpink)

Anon: hii! can i request a jennie scenario wherein she read a lot of comments/tweets about her fem s/o about how her s/o is only using her for her money/fame and bc of that she kind of believed it and grew distant and her s/o overhears her calling her a gold digger in front of the other members while they were hanging out and s/o gets hurt and just leaves and try to give back all jennie's gifts or something like that? angst with fluffy ending pls!! i love your scenarios always!!

Author’s note: I went too angsty with this and I had no idea how to make it fluffy, but it doesn’t end too sadly hopefully

pretty sure she doesnt even care about jennie

shes obviously dating jennie because shes in blackpink

such a fake

Jennie’s frown deepened when she saw the many malicious comments online. Of course, she’s used to people sending her hate and having rumors spread about her. But this time around, the hate was not directed at her, but rather her girlfriend.

It’s been half a year since she’s come out to the public and introduced you to the world, and even with the various support she’s gotten for having the courage of coming out, the backlash of it was the people attacking you with so many hurtful words.

Jennie knows you’re aware of them, but you’ve never spoken up about it that she wonders if you find them bothersome or not. It’s made her think.

Were you only with her because of her fame? Did you really love her?

Lately, she couldn’t help reading such comments. When she first introduced you to the public as her girlfriend, she kept watching, wanting her fans to be accepting towards you and having the same respect that they had for her. But the longer time passed, the more assumptions were thrown at you.

And your dismissive behavior did not help in easing her worries.

As a result, she’s been pulling herself back whenever the two of you were together, always eyeing you when you spent time with her and trying to notice the way you would react to her every time. Were you being sincere to her or not?

She hadn’t even realized how much she let the comments get to her head.

“I just don’t know.” She sighed once when she was with her members, eating breakfast. You were sound asleep in her bed when she left you, so she decided it was the best time she could talk to her friends about the mess that was going through her head.

She didn’t think talking to you about it would help her because obviously, she think, you’ll defend yourself.

Jisoo pursed her lips at her friend when she lowered her fork. “I don’t really think Y/n is like that.” She stated. “I mean, she’s been with you longer than the public knows. You haven’t had these thoughts before.” She added and Chaeyoung nodded. “She’s right. Y/n is a sweet girl.”

“Maybe when in public? You know that gold diggers pretend to be nice to get what they want.” Jennie reasoned and this time, Lisa cut in, a deep frown on her face. “Hey, that’s not fair. You’re not sure if she’s being genuine, but that doesn’t mean you should be calling Y/n unnie a gold digger.” She retorted, making Jennie sigh as she rubbed her temple.

“Then how am I going to tell? I can’t flat out ask her because that’s obviously too forward.” She huffs, unknowing of your presence lingering by the door.

You had woken up a little after Jennie left the bed. And in your tired state, you didn’t get up right away, only when your stomach grumbled. But as you neared the kitchen and heard more of the girls’ voices, your sleepiness began to evaporate and your heart started to crack when you heard the things your supposed girlfriend was saying about you.

The moment she had called you a gold digger, tears had already fallen from your eyes and you quickly but quietly left for her bedroom to collect your things. You switched out of the clothes Jennie had lent you the night prior, tossing them in the basket, and then slipping on your hoodie and jeans. When you had everything, you hurriedly left her a note on her nightstand, making up the excuse that something came up before silently leaving the dorm after making sure that all of the girls were still in the kitchen.

"Unnie, if you can't trust Y/n, then what's the point of being in a relationship with her?" Chaeyoung couldn't help but ask and Jennie quickly quieted down, staring at her plate. "If you're having thoughts like these, I don't think it's fair for you to be doubting her like this when she could possibly be with you without the thought of money or fame."

"Chaeyoung is right. Personally, I doubt she's ever really thought of doing that to you. She's been sweet and loving to you, we can see that when you're together." Jisoo frowned. "It's just sad that you're letting other people's opinions cloud your view of your own girlfriend."

That made Jennie wince as she dropped her head and just stare at her plate, no longer hungry when she realizes that her friends were right. You’ve been together for years, and yet she only began to doubt you because her fans refused to trust you.

She just couldn't seem to shake off the doubt that was implanted into her brain after all the things she's read for the past few weeks.

"In my opinion, break up." Lisa says sternly, pushing her chair back as she brought her empty plate to the sink. "If you don't trust her, there's no point in staying."

Chaeyoung sighed as she looked to her best friend. Of course, the younger girl was right and she understands why she's upset, but they had no right interfering with Jennie's relationship because it simply wasn't their business. The best they could do was listen and give her advice, the rest was for Jennie to deal with.

"I'll go talk to her." The blonde murmured, quietly exiting the kitchen and leaving the two older girls alone.

Jisoo eyed Jennie from across the table and kept her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to help her friend. But she also wasn't very happy with the way she had quickly discarded all the struggles you went through together before this moment.

She was your friend, too, and it would be a lie if she said she didn't care for you as much as she did for her members.

"Why don't you get ready? We have a shoot in a few hours." She tells the younger girl and Jennie sits there for a few more minutes, contemplating if she was capable of looking at you after everything she's just said about you.

Eventually, she does go. Quietly, she heads to her room, wondering if you were still asleep since you haven't come out yet. But when she peeks inside, she's surprised to see no one there.

The bed is made, the clothes you used were put properly away and then everything else was as she left it except for the piece of paper that was left on her desk.

Upon further inspection, she recognizes your handwriting and furrows her brows at the message. It makes her suspicions grow, but at the same time, her stomach churns. She was unaware of you hearing her conversation with them, girls so she doesn’t give it too much thought, simply sending you a text to say you should text or call her when you were free before she proceeded to her closet and pick out her outfit for the day.

..

Jennie doesn't hear from you for the rest of the day, which confuses her.

You've always texted her throughout the day to see how she was doing, always asking her if she's eaten or drank enough water. So, now that you weren't checking up on her has thrown her off the loop.

It was already evening and she was checking her phone in case she missed a text or call, but found none.

Instead, when she arrives back with the girls, she's surprised to see you leaving her room, hands tucked in the pockets of your jacket with your head down.

Something about it sets her off, and without thinking, she scoffs at you while crossing her arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She asks you, and you're surprised to see that she's already home.

"So, you ignored me for the whole day because you had something "important" to do. And when I come, I find you trying to, what, steal from me?"

"Jennie." Jisoo calls warningly while Chaeyoung and Lisa looked worried when you refuse to look at them.

But Jennie didn't mean to say those things. In her fear of finding out that you were using her, her emotions blinded her and had forced the words out, her heart pounding against her rib cage before she's watching you finally bring your hand out of your pocket and show her the spare key she had given you for the dorms.

"I came to drop this off." You try to keep your tone even, but it's so soft and fragile that the worry in the girls worsened. Jennie's expression even softened, but the confusion set in at your words. "What?"

You lift your head and Lisa gasps when she sees the tear tracks and red eyes, a clear indication that you've been crying. But before any of them could say anything, you were already dropping the key on the table.

"I'm leaving. Don't worry, I didn't touch anything."

"Y/n-" Chaeyoung tried calling for you, but you only shook your head and walked to the door, but Jennie tailed after you, latching onto your hand right before you could leave.

But before she could say a word, you yanked your hand away, whirling around to glare at her despite the hot tears that were already cascading down your face. "Don't fucking touch me." You gritted out, pain laced in your voice as Jennie stared at you in disbelief.

"Y/n, what is your problem?" She snapped back, your attitude setting her off from being ignored the whole day, but instead of backing out like usual, you glared back at her. "You left without even a proper goodbye, ignored me the whole day, and suddenly you're in the dorm without telling anyone, then you have the audacity to be angry?"

At that, you scoff before stepping closer to her. "I have no reason to explain myself to you." You say while stubbornly wiping your face. "The only reason I wasn't replying to you was because I was looking and packing everything you own and then dropped them off here."

At your words, Jennie's anger vanished and she looked at a loss. Her things?

You stared at her for a while before shaking your head, defeat on your features as you step away once more. "I'm not gonna stick around with someone who'd rather believe what everyone says instead of trusting me and calling me a gold digger, where her friends were the ones who defended me behind my back. I'm done."

Her heart jumped to her throat when she realized that you'd heard what she said to the girls. With the sudden revelation, she isn't quite sure what she could tell you.

"I just... I thought-"

"That the people who don't know a damn thing about me were right? That the person who stuck up for you every single time would actually treat you like a fucking toy?" You guessed for her. "They're my fans!" She defends and you frown at her, seeing clearly just where she held you.

"Yeah. And what did that make us?"

You knew that some fans wouldn't accept the fact that Jennie was dating, much more a girl, but you didn't really think that she would choose them over you, especially like this.

"Forget it, Jennie. All of your things are in your room. Goodbye."

But Jennie wouldn't let you leave when she moved to shut the door just as you opened it. "Can we talk about this?" She pleaded, panic running through her veins despite her earlier anger.

"Talk about what? Jennie, you called me a fucking gold digger because your fans said so?" You shot at her. "Do you realize how that makes our relationship?"

“I’m sorry!” She yelled back, refusing to budge as she blocked your only exit. “I know that it was dumb of me, but please, let’s talk about it.” She tries again and you try so hard to fight your tears back with the inner turmoil that was inside of you.

You wanted her to be sorry, you wanted her to take back everything she’s said behind your back, but you know that once words were let go, there was no turning back. The damage was permanent and there was no changing that no matter how many times she apologized.

Yet your heart was so damn stubborn that you couldn’t outright deny her request. So, she saw that and used it to her advantage, no matter how wrong she knows it is.

Leading you back to her room, she had noticed that her members all disappeared to their own quarters and she just hopes that they can leave things to her. That is, if she can handle what’s about to happen.

Entering her room, she spots the two boxes at the foot of her bed and she inhales sharply, seeing the necklace she had given you for your first anniversary sitting at the top of them. Only now did she notice that you weren’t wearing it, knowing fully well that you never took it off once she gave it to you.

“Y/n, I know that this is messed up, but please just... we can work this out, I swear.” She starts and you stare at her in disbelief. “What can you do to make this work? What did I do to make you even think of me like that, Jennie?” You ask in a broken voice that makes her heart crack.

“You know me. I have not once asked you to spend a single dime on me or this relationship. I have never demanded that you get me gifts or to pay for me when we go out. You know that I argue with you on who pays the bill. So, why?”

For the first time in her life, Jennie didn’t know what to say. She was always so sure of herself and the things she wanted, but now, staring at you while you desperately tried to understand where things have gone wrong has rendered her speechless.

You stand, staring at each other, and your tears refuse to stop as you covered your face with your hands and let out a shaky breath. Jennie withers at the sight of you looking so weak, so vulnerable, because of her. So, she doesn’t hesitate as she steps forward to wrap her arms tightly around you.

“I know that I was wrong to believe them.” She mutters when she feels you weakly pushing against her, but she holds on tight, refusing to let you go. “I was  just so clouded with what everyone was saying and I was scared of talking to you about this.” She closed her eyes when your pushing started to weaken. “You’re right. I made our relationship look like an absolute joke for trusting someone who isn’t you and you have every right to be pissed at me. But please, I’ll do my best to be better at this. I should have known better, and you deserve so much more than what I put you through.” She could feel her own tears start to fall, but she doesn’t bother them.

You’ve stopped resisting her and just let your hands grab a fistful of her shirt, sobbing into her chest. “Please, just give me one last chance. I promise, this won’t ever happen again.” She whispers and the room is only filled with your sobs.

You’re both on the floor when Jennie feels your legs giving out. She holds you because she knows that you’re in pieces.

“Why did you have to say it?” You cried into her chest and she kisses your head while frowning to herself. She shouldn’t have done it, but all she could do now was make up for it.

She’s ruined three years in a single moment. But she swears that she’ll spend the rest of her life making up for it, even when you move past this and maybe forget about it happening.

“I’m so sorry.”

[mishasminion360]

Here Comes the Boom

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: This is a sequel to my fic “This Feeling Has a Name”. That fic was supposed to be a one shot, but I received some very positive feedback inquiring about more, so I figured ‘what the heck!’ I hope you enjoy this installment as much as the first. Thank you for all your likes, love, and support. Also, stay tuned because I have a major Mandalorian fic in the works.

Since the night you ended your relationship (such as it was) you’d avoided Javier Peña like the plague. Not an easy thing to do considering you worked in the same building. Anytime the two of you made eye contact, you’d quickly duck out of the room or strike up a conversation with some poor, unsuspecting co-worker before Javi could corner you.

You’d gone as far as to request a transfer, but the powers that be were dragging their feet through the sea of paperwork. For now you’d just have to grin and bare it to the best of your ability.

You reassured yourself over and over again that putting some much needed distance between you and Peña was the wisest move; you repeated it like a mantra in your head. You practically meditated on the thought, like the fucking Buddha.

Your brain was firmly planted in reality, but your heart, God damn it, still needed a little more convincing. It was still nestled comfortably in Javier’s hands.

When you were certain he wasn’t looking, your eyes would lock onto him across the room. They would gaze. They would linger. And you would yearn. You’d walk past his empty desk and your fingers would unconsciously reach out to graze the smooth leather of his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The same jacket he’d once wrapped around your shoulders.

It was undeniable: you’d been bitten by the proverbial love bug and were sick as hell, and there was no cure. You worked in the same room as some of the most brilliant, tactful minds on the planet, so you knew there was no hiding your condition for long. And, of course, Steve Murphy was the first to figure it out.

“What the hell did Javi do now?” he asked you point blank, cornering you at the water cooler.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to feign ignorance and failing miserably.

“Well, he’s been more of a bastard than usual and I figured it had something to do with you. And if something did happen between you two, because it’s always the safe bet, I could only imagine that Javi fucked up royally. So, I ask again: what did he do?”

You gulped down your water, wishing it was something stronger, and tossed the cup.

“Why do you assume his bullshit has anything to do with me?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Murphy’s mouth.

“Because nothing gets him more worked up than you.”

You knew it was meant as a compliment, but you tried desperately not to see it that way.

“We’re hunting Pablo fucking Escobar, darlin’. One of the most dangerous criminal, dare I say masterminds, in all of Colombia, potentially the world. But not even this motherfucker has been able to get under Javi’s skin the way you have. And don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Of course Steve noticed. Because you were so damn obvious. You were ashamed and embarrassed of your unprofessionalism, but you couldn’t blame that on Javier Peña. Your feelings and the resulting behaviors of said feelings were your own.

“The relationship had run its course, Steve, so I ended it. That’s it. We’re adults, adults break up. If Javi is insisting on taking it like a child, that’s on him.”

You return to your desk and attempt to lose yourself in paperwork. You know Steve wants to say more; the silence that follows is pregnant with his unvoiced questions, thoughts and opinions. Fortunately for you he’s wise enough to keep them all to himself.

“Hang in there,” he mumbles, patting your shoulder in a brief gesture of support before striding off.

***

You finish drying your hands and you’re about to exit the ladies room when suddenly the door flies open and in storms Javier.

“Shit!” you exclaim, both startled and a bit disgusted at the lengths he would go to just to confront you.

“We need to talk,” he grumbles, standing between you and the door.

“We have nothing to talk about, Javier, and certainly not here of all places!”

Just then one of the receptionists attempts to enter the restroom, doing a double take when she notices Javier.

“Go find another bathroom,” he barks at the wide eyed young woman.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Peña?” she snaps.

“OUT!” he roars. She doesn’t need to be told twice.

For good measure he locks the door behind her, and the two of you are officially alone. Even in the enclosed space, you try to put as much distance between the two of you as physically possible.

Javier let’s out a frustrated breath as he runs a hand over his face and through his hair.

“I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I need you to listen to me. Just listen to me. Okay?”

Your heart is thudding in your ears but you attempt to play it cool by crossing your arms and leaning back against the sink.

“I’m listening.”

Javi took a deep breath then began again.

“You know I’m not the best at showing emotion-“

You cut him off with a laugh.

“You just screamed a poor woman out of this bathroom and you say you’re no good at showing emotion?”

You could see the anger boiling up inside him once again, but he closed his eyes, took a breath, tamped it down, and continued.

“I don’t typically get close to people, alright? I don’t usually do relationships, friendly or otherwise. What you and I have...”

You shot him a pointed look at the same instant he caught his mistake.

“Had ,” he corrected. “That’s usually the extent of my emotional attachment.”

You snickered a bit. “I sure as hell hope Steve is enjoying it while it lasts, then.”

“God dammit, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Now you want to get serious?”

That may have been a poor choice of words. Actually, goading him on while he was obviously upset may have been one big bad idea on your part, because in a flash Javier was crushing his body to yours and shackling your wrists in his hands. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his skin burning your own. Or maybe that was your own.

He took a second to recollect himself, but he didn’t release his grip on you. In that moment you didn’t mind.

“Just who the hell said I didn’t love you, huh?”

His entire body was like an angry storm: his pounding heart was thunder, and his words struck you like lightening. But his eyes, just like that of any other tempest, were calm. And as you gazed into them your fear was washed away, as if by rain.

“You did,” you whispered. “You told me, Javi, that love wasn’t your thing. You warned me when we first started seeing each other, and you just said it again now. Don’t you even hear yourself when you talk?”

He didn’t say anything, only swallowed painfully over the lump in his throat.

“I get it, Javier, okay? This is not my first time being with someone like you. I know there are people out there who just can’t stand the idea of love and relationships, and there’s nothing wrong with that. To each their own right?”

He seemed frozen so you took the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and lower his arms to his sides.

“That doesn’t make you a bad guy, Javier. You don’t have to apologize for being who you are. You don’t ever have to apologize for that.”

You looked away as angry, self conscious tears filled your eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Javier. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful. I’m sorry I didn’t take your warning to heart.”

Before you even realized what you were doing, you brought your hand gently to his face. This could, would, be the last time you ever touched him, and because he probably understood that all too well he reached up and placed his hand atop yours, pressing it harder against his cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell in love with you, Javi.”

You saw his eyes go painfully wide as you slipped from his hold and made your way around him, not sparing a single look back as you left the restroom. You didn’t see him punch the mirror, but you heard the glass shatter from the other side of the door.

Wiping angrily at your eyes, you hastily retrieved your jacket and purse from your desk and tapped Steve on the shoulder on your way out.

“Tell the boss I’m leaving early,” you said, and if Steve was going to protest you didn’t give him the chance. You were as good as gone.

***

The next day you called in sick. For one day, just one lousy fucking day, you wanted to be alone to drown your thoughts under a stack of paperwork a mile high. You told the boss not to call and bother you unless your transfer request had gone through.

But as luck would have it, you picked the wrong fucking day to stay home.

One second you were skimming page after page of Escobar’s dossier, the next the pages were fluttering in the air like confidential snowflakes, launched skyward by the force of the explosion that rocked your apartment and the shops below.

@mamacitapascal @obsessivelysearching

[canadian-riddler]

 ‘Burial’

 Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane [Scriddler]

 Synopsis: He knew better than to go to his father’s funeral, but he did it anyway.

AO3 || fanfiction.net

It was sunny.

It shouldn’t have been, in Edward’s opinion.  It should have been pouring down rain, should have discouraged half these people from showing up and encouraged the other half to finish up and get inside as quickly as possible.  But it was sunny, and the sky was clear, and there were around thirty people here gathered to mourn the death of Edward’s father.

He had known about them, of course.  Had known about his father’s new wife and new sons.  One the age he had been when his mother had left, and the other the age he had been when his father had first hit him.  They were crying not because he had been terrible to them and they were thankful that he was gone, but because they missed him and wanted him to come back. All of these people, his family and his friends, felt that way.  They didn’t know because he had hidden it from them.

No one will ever mourn me like this.

It was sickening.  The priest was making a grand speech about what a great man and benefit to the community his father had been, and people were eating up the lie and shedding tears over it.  He’d been a bartender, for God’s sake.  Some of these people were just regulars.  Slinging booze was considered a ‘benefit to the community’ now?  To what community?  Alcoholics? Lonely men who had no better place to go?  Single women looking for free drinks?

It seemed to take the entire afternoon for them to get all the ceremony over with and put him in his hole in the ground.  When they finally did so, the feeling Edward had expected and been waiting for did not come. Instead he felt hollow, suddenly, as though something important had been taken from him.  It hadn’t been, of course.  He was glad that old man was finally dead.  It had taken long enough.

It was his aim to have disappeared before anyone spotted him, but it seemed he had lingered too long because his father’s widow caught sight of him as people filtered along their way. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, and Edward supposed that she had.  He turned and pushed his hands deeper into his pants pockets and did his best to pretend he was there for some other reason.  He was in the parking lot, shouting distance from his vehicular exit, when someone called a name he was not yet used to hearing: “Édouard!”

He stopped without meaning to.  The clack of high heels sounded across the asphalt but it was too late to pretend he hadn’t heard.  He was going to have to see what she wanted and extricate himself as soon as possible.

“You must be him,” the woman said in French, short of breath.  She had an accent he didn’t recognise.  “He said you might show up.  You look just like him, you know, like – “

“What do you want?” Edward snapped as he turned to face her, his enunciation still perfect Québécois.  She looked taken aback, as though she had not expected him to be so aggressive.  Or maybe seeing the near-exact facsimile of her late husband’s face on someone else was much more shocking up close. She looked down towards the purse hanging from her shoulder, digging in it with one hand.  She withdrew and held out to him an envelope which stole the breath from his lungs and replaced it with a nearly sickening tension.  All that was written upon the face was ‘Édouard’ in small black letters.  He stared at it.

“What did he tell you about me?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Just that… someone I wouldn’t know might show up, and I was to give this to him.”

He accepted it, turning it over as he did so.  It was sealed with no signs of tampering.  

“Who are you?” the woman asked.  Edward looked over the top of his glasses at her.

“Someone your late husband didn’t see fit to tell you about,” he answered, and resumed walking across the parking lot.  Once seated behind his steering wheel he put the envelope down on the passenger seat and pushed the key into the ignition.

He shouldn’t open it. He should just get rid of it.  It wasn’t going to say anything important. It wasn’t going to say anything he needed to read.

He couldn’t fit his finger beneath the corner of the flap with the glove on, so he took it off and laid it on the dashboard.  He slowly worked the envelope open with one finger.

He shouldn’t.  He wasn’t going to.  He leaned over and opened the glovebox and removed the lighter that was in there.  He lit it and held it to the bottom corner.  Not close enough.  He felt sick suddenly.  He wasn’t going to be able to do it.  He put the lighter down and leaned the envelope on the steering wheel and stared at his name.  His father had written it there.  His father had not tried to talk to him in such a long time.  He had to know.  He couldn’t not know.

Édouard

I suspect you will make an appearance at my funeral to make sure I am truly dead.  I trust you did not cause trouble for the invited attendees.  I think we can both agree that would be sinking rather low, even for you.

I am sure you will be relieved of the fact that you will no longer need to keep an eye on me and my doings.  We both know they were none of your business and yet you made them so anyway.  One would think you would divert your attention onto more suitable things with time, but age has not brought you any wisdom that I can tell.  From what I have seen of you on the news you seem content to revel in your strange sickness instead.  It is a shame to think upon all the things you could have been doing, but elected against in favour of… whatever that persona of yours is supposed to be.

I do not know why you did not kill me as so many of your ilk often do, but when I heard news of your disappearance I had hope you were moving away from the man you have become.  My actions may have had influence in your decisions, but they were always your decisions.  Perhaps my death will finally free you to realise that.

I do not have much confidence left in your ability to make the right choices, but at least the time remains for you to make them.  I hope that you do for your own sake.

Dad

Edward pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and cried.

He didn’t know why he was crying, or who he was crying for.  Perhaps for himself and the life that could have been.  Perhaps because, as awful as the man had been, he was still Edward’s father. Or perhaps it was the not knowing if, had he known what Edward was doing now, he would have found it in him to be proud despite everything.  When he was able he removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and cleaned his glasses with it, then his face.  The letter he tossed back onto the other seat, followed by the envelope.  He sat, leaned back in his chair, for a long time. When he realised what colour the sky was he blinked and turned the key.  He’d been here too long.  Even if he had only been here for as many minutes as it had taken him to park in the first place, that would have been here too long.  His father didn’t deserve this much of his time, not alive and especially not dead.

The letter seemed to have been imbued with his aura, and Edward knew that was stupid but he could feel it.  It was there. Just like that hollowness that shouldn’t be.  

He shouldn’t have opened it. He shouldn’t have gone.  He shouldn’t have.

 //

 When he got home some hours later and Jonathan asked how it had gone, Edward wordlessly put the letter into his hand and went upstairs.  He stood in the shower for a very long time.  Waiting.  He didn’t know for what.  He just felt as though he should stay there until something happened.  Something that would tell him that the world hadn’t really changed that much even when he felt as though it had been upended completely.

Eventually he got out and went into the bedroom to get dressed, finding that Jonathan was in bed.  He had been in the shower longer than he had thought. His hair was soaking his back because he had forgotten to dry it with a towel.

“If Google Translate is to be believed,” Jonathan said, “this is quite the letter.”

Edward sat down, shirtless, and took it to be put away in his bedside drawer.  Jonathan looked at him but Edward did not have any words to give him.  He didn’t have anything except a profound empty feeling he did not think anything would ever fill.  He lay down, back to Jonathan, and pulled up the blanket.  He wondered if it would ever go away.  He wondered if it was a scar or a reminder.

“You have no way of knowing what it means,” Jonathan continued.  “It could simply be a – “

“Shut up, Jonathan,” Edward said.

“Edward, I only – “

“He was my father and I’ll mourn him the way I want to.”

“… mourn him?” Jonathan repeated, his words overflowing with all the incredulity he could summon, and Edward got up to sleep on the couch.

 //

 It was sunny again today, too, the headstone now half-hidden behind flowers and little stuffed animals and a photograph depicting a family that was and was not Edward’s both at the same time.  He had been on his knees there for a while.  He should not have come today, either, but he had the right to make some sort of farewell speech too, didn’t he?  Didn’t he have the most right to that out of anyone?  The people in that picture hadn’t known his father. How many times had he sat there on the couch with his arm behind her shoulders, reaching for the means to change the channel if ever Edward appeared on the TV?  Had his sons ever dragged their feet on the way home from school in the hopes of arriving after he had already left for work?  Had he been good to them always, or had he done one unexplainedly kind thing now and again which only served to be utterly confusing in the face of the constant cruelty?  Even if he had changed, had genuinely, honestly become a better man for them, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t fair.  He was chewing his lower lip and trying to shove the rage in his chest back down with deliberate, heavy breaths.  “I never killed you,” Edward murmured, “because it would have proven that might makes right.”

The smile his father wore in the photograph seemed to burn the corner of his vision that it occupied.

“If I had killed you, you would have won.  But I suppose you won anyway because I will never have what you had.  Unlike you, I can’t bury what I’ve done and have family and friends surround me in death, oblivious to the whole of the person I was. You have a lot of gall lecturing me about choices when you chose every day to pretend to your new family that I didn’t exist.  That I don’t exist.”  There was a handful of fresh grass in between his gloved fingers.  “Well, I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing now.  You don’t deserve to know.  I no longer need your pride.”  Saying it out loud made him feel as though he had the ability to make it true. “All those final fucking words to me and you couldn’t be bothered to use a single one of them to apologise.  All I hope comes of your death is that I wake up one morning soon with the feeling I should have had all this time: relief.”

He stood up and turned around to find that his father’s widow was standing behind him, her teary eyes wide.  He wanted to ruin it for her.  He wanted to tell her in explicit detail who he was and what his father’s contributions had been towards making him that way.  He wanted her tears to be of horror as he told her that the man she had loved and borne children for and built a life alongside had lied to her in order to con himself a second chance he had not deserved.  All the words were tumbling through his mind, ordering themselves into the perfect sentences that would shatter her illusions and put the truth and meaning of her entire life into question.  One inhale would fill his lungs with them and one exhale would breathe all of them out into a torrent that she would not believe at first, but that would form infinite niggling doubts in her mind.  Eating away at her.  Leading her to look into who Edward was.  Into uncovering a truth she would not be able to hide from her children as her husband so easily had.  One breath and he could do all of that.

So he took two.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.

 //

 Jonathan was at the kitchen table drinking coffee.  He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair had been half-combed with his fingers.  If by some wild circumstance Edward died first, Jonathan would not cry for him. He would not hold a funeral or spend too much time thinking about interpersonal regrets.  He would simply remember Edward for what he had been.  All of it.

He sat down at the table.

“That other phone has been ringing all day,” Jonathan said into his coffee, his other hand keeping his book spread open.  “I think she knows and wants a chance to head you off before you do something rash.”

Edward rubbed at a dried spot of coffee with his thumb.  It came off, but he would still have to wash the table.  “I’m not going to do anything rash.”

“What are you going to do?”

The emptiness remained, but no solution had presented itself.  “Nothing.”

When Jonathan put his empty cup down, Edward stood and brought it to the sink.  “I didn’t know when you’d be returning so supper is in the fridge,” Jonathan said.  He nodded but did not feel the slightest inclination to go looking for it.  He would go see what she wanted, and after a shower he was going to bed.  A thought gave him pause when he had one foot on the stairs.  “Jonathan.”

“Mm,” said Jonathan. Edward couldn’t tell how his attention was divided between himself and the book.

“If… I died tomorrow, would you cry for me?”

Jonathan’s browline indicated he didn’t understand the question.  “Of course I would.”

Edward’s fingers scrunched up and down the side of the bannister.  “Just a little.”

“Enough,” Jonathan said.

“Don’t do anything else.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Edward nodded and continued upstairs.

The phone was still ringing. He sat down in his desk chair and pushed his earpiece in and answered it.  It had better be something that could wait because he was too tired to work right now.  He had not slept much last night.

“There you are,” said Barbara.

“What do you want,” Edward said.

“We heard what happened,” Barbara answered.  “We’ve rearranged some availability.  You’ve got two weeks off.”

He sat up straight.  “I don’t – “

“I knew you’d say that,” Barbara interrupted.  “Look. I know you didn’t like your dad. But you went to his funeral.  Even if you don’t want time to work that out, I’m giving it to you anyway.  I don’t care what you do with it.  Just take it.”

Edward stared at the wall until he remembered he had to respond to that.  “I’m not going to do anything.”

“If I thought you would,” Barbara said, “we wouldn’t be talking right now.  I’m just trying to be nice.  Okay?”

“Thanks, Barbara,” he murmured, and she told him goodbye and hung up.

When Jonathan came upstairs he was still in his office, having gotten distracted by a spate of messages he’d received since last he’d checked them.  The most distressing of them all he had left for last, and was still staring at it as Jonathan stood behind him.  “She sent you a friend request,” he said after a minute. Hearing it said out loud didn’t help his indecision.

“What should I do?”

Jonathan leaned on the chair and Edward heard the clink of him pushing up his glasses.  “She thinks she wants to know,” he answered finally. “But she doesn’t.”

Edward nodded and deleted the request.  “They cleared my schedule for the next two weeks,” he said, rotating the chair ninety degrees to the left.  “If there was anything you wanted to do.”

Jonathan frowned at the desk.  “We should go camping,” he said.  Edward was a little taken aback.

“Camping?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said, standing up straight again.

“I’ve never gone before.”

“Me neither,” said Jonathan, “but things are so easy nowadays an idiot could probably figure it out.”

Edward tapped one finger on the desk.  “I’ll have to figure out what we’ll need, but… sure.  Let’s go camping.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

He shook his head.  “I need to shower.”

“Hurry up,” Jonathan said. “You know how you get when it’s past your bedtime.”

He wished he had a response to that, but… he was right.

 //

 He was ready about an hour later, which was cutting it close, and at Jonathan’s behest Edward lay held to his right side with one thin arm.  The hollowness was still achingly present and he stared at the barely visible curtains shielding the windows.

“Don’t mourn him, Eddie,” Jonathan murmured.  He always somehow knew what Edward was thinking.  “Mourn the part of yourself he took from you.”

“I don’t want to,” said Edward.  Jonathan’s long fingers were in his hair.

“I understand,” Jonathan said.  “Your mind needs some time to accept that it’s finally over.”

That thought was… terrifying.  He had spent so many years harbouring so much anger and frustration and resentment and now the cause of it was gone.  Forever. The emptiness seemed to increase and the arm he had across Jonathan’s stomach tightened against it.

“When we go camping,” Jonathan continued as though he hadn’t noticed, “might I use the letter as kindling?”

“You know how to start a fire?”

“Oh yes,” Jonathan answered, scratching his nose with his free hand.  “I used to do it with a knife and a rock.  It’s extremely sexy, I assure you.”

“Can you still do it?” Edward asked, fascinated by this new development.  Jonathan shrugged.

“You should probably bring some matches just in case.  My hands aren’t as steady as they once were.”

Edward gave a pat to the place his palm currently rested, which was still Jonathan’s stomach.  “We wouldn’t want you cutting yourself open.”

Jonathan slid his fingers between Edward’s.  “That’s what the first aid kit you’ll be bringing is for.”

“Burn it,” Edward said after there had been silence between them for a minute.  The gentle squeeze Jonathan gave to his shoulder may have caused the emptiness to fade, just a little bit.

“If you choose to change your mind, you can.”

“No.  Don’t let me.”

There were a lot of things his father had had that Edward never would.  But he had never had Edward himself, and once enough time had passed he would be able to appreciate and understand that had always been to his own benefit. For now he would wait and try to think about other things.  More important things.  Like Jonathan’s endlessly cold feet pressed against his shins.  “Did you pull up my pantlegs with your toes again?” he demanded.

“I think they were already like that.”

“I don’t think so,” Edward said, attempting to yank them back down with his own toes, but Jonathan’s feet were simply too large for him to be successful.  He crossed his arms and sighed through his nose and Jonathan laughed.

“Go to sleep and you won’t even notice.”

“I’m supposed to fall asleep with your gigantic icy feet crammed up my pants?”

“You’ve actually proven yourself to be quite good at it,” Jonathan said with gentle amusement, and even though it wasn’t really a compliment it still took the edge off his annoyance.  He settled himself into Jonathan’s side again and Jonathan pressed his dry lips into Edward’s brow.  “Don’t go running off in the morning,” he murmured there.  “Having me worry about you three days in a row would be going too far.”

“It may turn out that you’ll wish I’d left.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe I don’t mind helping you as much as you think I do.”

He would ask Jonathan about the emptiness tomorrow.  He must know some way of dealing with it, or what it meant.  He found himself smiling a little.

“He wrote me the letter because he didn’t know I had you,” he said, and Jonathan laughed through his nose and slid his hand up and down Edward’s arm.

“Good,” was all he said, and without asking he knew that in Jonathan’s opinion Edward had won after all.  It was an opinion he fully intended to share one day.  

[lilliannelson]

Maybe, Definitely

Summary: Reader is a long time guest at the Holmes’ Estate. They have been associated with the family for years. One conversation leads to a whole new outlook on the life they thought they knew.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Trigger Warning: Just fluff

A/N: Most definitely going to continue with a jump ahead in time. Let me know your thoughts!!

You had been staying at the Holmes’ Estate for a few weeks; a tradition that began 5 years before. You had entered society as a young lady and became acquainted with the youngest Holmes, Enola. To say you kept this tradition going for nothing more than the company of Enola and her elder brothers, was simply not at all truthful. While Mycroft made your blood boil more than you can count, and Enola being one of your best companions, your eyes always seemed to flitter towards Sherlock. He had many rungs to his social ladder but currently his consulting agency was thriving in the ever-crazy London Town. As intelligent as he is, he had rare moments of conversation with anyone other than his siblings. It seemed that he couldn’t be bothered by anyone else, which was a positive to the fact his business was blooming. He didn’t have to stay here all the time.

Right now, you’re walking about the large study of which held all of the best novels you could get your hands on in this day and age. You glance up and spot him. He’s tall, very tall. And he has the most gorgeous head of dark curls you have ever seen. You have been observing him from a far for a while. You couldn’t help but wonder what he would say next or if he would even give you the time of day.

‘There he is,’ you think, stopping yourself with the book you’re currently reading in hand looking out the large bay window to see him walking up the drive.

You blink and knock yourself out of the trance you were in. He may be opinionated and gorgeous, but you were better than that to drop yourself to his level. No man was ever worth it.

You continue to walk out the large French-style doors to the wooden swing that hung from your favorite tree in the side yard. The gardeners had done so well this year and the flowers that lined the path that led to your spot was exceptionally darling this time of year. Autumn was your favorite season, after all.

You sit on the swing and get lost in the book. Hours seem to have rolled by as the sun was on the brink of setting. You stretch and yawn as you suddenly realize your surroundings. You feel a set of eyes on your back. An intuition you’d grown to enjoy. You slowly swivel around to see him looking at you. You give him a shy smile and can see him capture his bottom lip with his teeth; a sort of kryptonite to you. As you stand, wiping off the front of you from some invisible outdoor dander, you walk towards him. He stands with his hands in his pockets. You suddenly feel the urge to run, but it subsides as you draw in closer to him.

“Hello,” his deep voice fills your ears.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

“I seem to always find you outside these days. What book are you reading?” You show him the book, a book of poems that he most likely has not read. “Never read that one.” ‘Ha, I knew it,’ you think.

“It’s good to switch up the type of writing sometimes.”

“Yes, it is.” His blue eyes keep your hazel ones, “Listen, I’m having dinner tonight, and I’d love it if you joined me.”

“What time?” Who were you and why were you accepting? Lowering yourself to his level was, again, something you didn’t want to do. But, it made sense to go to dinner with him, since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Your stomach rumbled as if on command.

“Right now, actually.” He grins, “Your stomach just gave you away.”

You match his grin, “It has. Shall I change?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t believe so. It’s just you and I.”

You feel a shade of pink flush your cheeks at the realization. But of course you knew it was just the two of you. His siblings and everyone else had already eaten. “Lead the way, then.”

——————————————————————————

You sit across from him at the large wooden dining room table. An extravagant floral arrangement was placed on the table prior to you two sitting down. He moves it over, allowing both of you to be able to meet eyes once more. He’d began to speak about a book he had read last week, and then the conversation moved to you.

“What would you like to know about me?” You take a dainty bite of the meal.

He sips his wine, “Everything.” You spot the grin he’s making behind his glass. This causes you to raise your eyebrow at him, looking down to your plate but also a small grin forms on your lips.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already come to one of your conclusions about me yet.” A little jab at him, but he pressed on.

“Where do you see yourself? The next 5 years?”

“That’s rather deep.”

“If you’d rather not answer, that’s quite alright. I can ask you something else.”

You grab the glass of wine, taking a big gulp before beginning, “Five years? Why not the next year?”

“Because it’s the most generic question people ask to get to know someone. And because I’m sure you have a list of ideas. I would love to hear your thoughts instead of coming to a conclusion.”

“Okay, well... I’ve been trying to read everything I can. I want to educate myself as much as possible. I want to write a book. I want to go to university and get a degree. I want to be a teacher. I-“ you stop when you meet his eyes. He’s so enamored by you in this moment.

“What kind of teacher?”

“English. I want to see a child’s eyes light up when they learn to read and understand the meanings of words and sentences. I used to play Headmistress when I was a child. I didn’t have any friends, but I made them up in my head. Probably why I am such an odd one nowadays.”

“You’re not odd. You’re intelligent. And any child would be lucky to have you as their teacher. Where are you planning on getting a degree?”

“Oxford. I know that it will be difficult to get into any program there, but I’m very certain I can do it. I am fully capable.”

“Yes, yes you are.” A silence falls over your conversation as you recollect all you said, and his eyes stay on you.

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice.

His eyebrows raise quizzically, “Whatever for?”

“For not making my want to teach seem like a death sentence.”

“Whoever has given you that idea?”

You look down to the table, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Oh, my uncle. And Mycroft.”

“Of course they have. I should’ve known.”

You shrug, “It’s the times we are living. I expect it most of the time. I can tune it out, it’s just tough sometimes.”

“If it helps any, Mycroft has always been that arrogant and self absorbed to the point he will do anything to raise his status.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you for trying.” You feel tears threatening to form in your eyes. After a beat, you blink them away, “How’s business in London?”

Sherlock frowns slightly, “It’s going. I’ve picked up quite a few new cases. Nothing too important yet, though.”

“I’m sure something will come up.”

“I hope so. I would hate to have to hang up the practice before its prime.”

“But it brings you joy. I have never seen someone so intricately indulge into their craft like you. I’m sure you’re the first one anyone at Scotland Yard thinks of when cases come in.” You look down bashfully when you see him gaping at you.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention to me.” His grin exposes a dimple. He looks shy.

“You’re Sherlock Holmes. How is that possible?”

“When it comes to my personal life, I tend to refuse to sink into any inklings I may have. I’m much better at helping others, if that makes sense.”

You nod, “It does.”

“You pay this kind of attention to everyone else?”

“Only the ones that are intriguing to me.”

“And what about me is intriguing?” His voice is low.

“Your knowledge, your composure, your personality.” You take another gulp of your wine, calming down your growing pulse, “I like observing you in your natural habitat.”

“Why?”

“Because you act like you don’t have feelings, but it shows in the way you present yourself. The slight grin you get on your face when someone outsmarts you regarding something you were sure no one else could. The other day when Mycroft was sure to prove me wrong, and I told him off, you had this look on your face...” You quickly change your tone, “I will never not laugh at his reaction.”

Sherlock has leaned forward, as if having to prove he was paying attention to you, but his eyes are semi-glazed over as if lost in thought.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” That knocks him out of his daze.

“Did I say too much?”

“No, no. I don’t believe you said too much at all.”

“Shall I continue?”

“Please.”

“I do believe your attachment to Enola is very sweet. She is just like you. She idolizes you, more than she lets on to your face.”

“She does?”

Nodding, you continue, “She and I are friends, after all. She and Mycroft make the air very tense when they are around each other, but when she’s in any room with you, it’s very calm. You’d think it would be the opposite, because you both are attentive, but that’s not the case.”

“You are very good at paying attention.”

“It’s my gift. I tune into energy and gut-instinct. I’ve learned to read people over the years.”

“Sounds very similar to my line of work, can I observe you sometime?”

“Yeah, any time.” You feel timid. But he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

He clears his throat, “Let me escort you back to your rooms.”

————————————————————————————————————————————

He walks you through the house, seemingly knowing the route you use even though the wing you’re in is opposite his. You watch him through your peripheral and catch him with his gaze on you more than once. Occasionally as you walk side by side, your hand grazes his but you notice he doesn’t tense up or show any signs of displeasure.

You arrive at your doorway, going inside to the sitting area. You weren’t used to having anyone other than Enola visiting you, so you tidy as you walk around. You hear a chuckle come from Sherlock, making you turn towards him.

You grin to yourself. “Please, have a seat if you’d like,” you gesture towards the chair to his right. He sits. You pace before sitting opposite him. You feel something looming in the air, like there are some unspoken truths, but Sherlock breaks your thoughts.

“Would it be too untoward if I tell you that you are intriguing, too?”

“I am?”

Sherlock nods, “You present yourself unlike any other young woman I have encountered. It’s nice to see you speak up and be unfiltered from time to time.”

“You pay attention to me?”

“Of course.”

“But how come it never felt like that?”

“I don’t follow...” his voice trails off as your eyes link.

You stand up, “It felt, in some ways, that my presence wasn’t allowed. No, not allowed, just you seemed above it all.” You scoff, “Somehow, I’ve always felt invaluable to you. And I always refused to let it bother me because I am a woman and I am better than that. To let a man’s opinion of myself get to me would be against everything I’ve learned in the past. But again, it bothers me. I guess I’m not as good as I thought.” You walk to your drink cart and pour yourself a glass of wine, gulping it down, “So to hear that you notice do notice me, well, that’s a lot.”

Sherlock stands and walks towards you, “I was unaware. You never made any gesture to feeling this way.”

“How would I when your actions...” you take a breath. “There’s been a miscommunication.”

“Yes, there has.” Sherlock pours himself a glass of wine, sipping it delicately.

You lock eyes again, “So what do we do now?”

“I’ve never been one to speak of...feelings. But I care for you, deeply. I believe we are going to need to speak up. And perhaps there won’t be any more miscommunications.”

You catch yourself grinning like an idiot, “I care about you, too.” You reach a hand up and caress the side of his face; he leans into your touch.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Dragon Three

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Felix (SKZ)

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of blood and gore, lots of sexy times with Felix, explicit smut, language, and alcohol use

Word Count: 7.8K

Genre: Game of Thrones AU; Fantasy AU

Summary: In order to stake her claim to the throne, Y/N must cross the narrow sea and destroy an enemy who has an endless barrage of assassins tracking her every movement. But at least she has her faithful advisor, Felix, by her side, and an intimidating army of Dragons who only serve their queen.

A/N: The title comes from a 3racha song which is totally cool and you should listen to it while reading this! 

Spring was a time of rebirth and renewal - an opportunity for second chances and new discoveries. But for me it was different. Because I was destined for something greater, and it was nothing short of intoxicating.

You see, I sought redemption - and there was only one thing left standing in my path.

My remaining obstacle was a wealthy land across the narrow sea - and the final battle meant that I would need to conquer a distant kingdom with an army of skilled warriors by my side. It also meant finding the very best people to serve me, and there weren’t many who planned to turn against a woman with three powerful and very loyal dragons who served at her behest.

But there was still time for distractions - consider it a stress reliever - and I sighed in pleasure, eyelids fluttering when I looked at the flash of silver between my legs - a pair of blue eyes pronounced with desire. “Felix,” I whispered, tracing my fingers across the swollen lines of his lips.

“My queen,” Felix murmured softly in return, looking up at me from his place between my thighs, mouth glistening with the smeared mess of my wet arousal.

“Aren’t you going to finish what you started?” I asked him, hardening my gaze because it was delightful to see the way he submitted to me.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Felix promised, and I could feel his tongue lapping at my wet folds, sinking into my tight cunt with practiced skill.

I hummed in agreement, relaxing my head back against my pillows. When I met Felix for the first time, back when I wasn’t nearly as influential, he was nothing but a little boy who lusted after something that he could never have. But he still agreed to serve me, and his loyalty was nothing short of profound. Perhaps that’s why I eventually succumbed to his advances - agreeing to share my bed with him.

“Can I fuck you?” Felix asked, pulling me out of my thoughts with a guttural groan.

I smirked at him, pretending to think about his request while I made of show of lowering my gaze to the obvious bulge of his erection. “Are those new pants?”

Felix was taken aback by my random comment, but he swallowed hard before responding: “Yeah.”

“They certainly make your cock look bigger,” I said, reaching down to trace the outline. “But you and I both know that your little cock isn’t good enough, so I’m hesitating because I don’t know if it can satisfy me.”

The degradation brought tears to Felix’s eyes, but I knew they weren’t out of grief but rather pleasure. “Please, Y/N,” he cried. “I can make you feel good.”

“You’re just desperate to fuck your cock into anything, aren’t you?” I asked with a snarl.

Felix nodded his head, holding onto my thighs with clenched fingers. Truthfully, Felix’s cock was actually rather good - it wasn’t very girthy, but it was long and always managed to rub against my g-spot perfectly. But he didn’t need to know that - especially when he loved to hear me talk down to him, and his eyes were beautiful and bright with tears filling the corners. “I want to be good for you.”

“You always try for me, Felix,” I placated him, holding up my hand to wipe away some of his tears. “I’m a fair ruler, aren’t I?”

Felix nodded again. “The Seven Kingdoms will be pleased to have you as their queen.”

I smiled at his words. “Well, I want you to show me your best effort, Felix. Can you do that for me? Take out your little cock and please me like you promised.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Felix panted, and his fingers shook when he removed his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers before tossing them aside. 

I eyed his cock with interest, licking my lips while he wrapped a loose fist around the base, moving his hand up and down while choking around a moan. Meanwhile, I spread my legs wider for him, watching the way his eyes glued themselves to my empty cunt. “Go ahead, Felix,” I said. “Show me what your cock can do.”

“I will,” he promised, looking at me with so much affection that it was almost suffocating. But in the next moment, he was moving himself closer, inserting just the tip as he fought to contain his emotions.

“Why are you holding yourself back?” I asked him with a frown. “Show me how these hips move,” I added while squeezing at his thin waist.

Felix nodded with a quiet groan, throwing back his head to reveal an expanse of beautiful, tanned skin. It was an ethereal appearance, and I could spend the rest of my days studying the shape of him. He was an elegant man with delicate features and a lithe figure that betrayed the impressive strength and resolve of his character - his desire to please the ones he respected the most. 

“Y/N,” Felix said, brushing our lips together in a light kiss. His arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself up over me, releasing low grunts whenever he pressed himself inside. I melted at his ministrations - watching the sweat as it trickled down the sides of his temples, shimmering in contrast to his skin. Because this close, I could see every pore and defining feature - fighting to keep my eyes open to enjoy the delightful vision of his focused expression while his hips rolled in long, sensual patterns. Brushing my clit and filling my tight walls with his thick erection. Pulsating to the beat of his movements, and grazing my g-spot when he angled himself just right - using my thighs as leverage to keep us both as close as possible.

I hummed in delight when one of his hands came up to caress the side of my face - a light touch that contrasted to the quick motions of his deep thrusts. Penetrating my cunt with the same kind of desperation that Felix always seemed to reserve for these intimate moments together - like he wanted to prove a point to me. It wasn’t obvious, whatever it was, but the mystery of Felix was part of the reason why he appealed so much to me. 

“I’m close,” I warned him because I could tell that he was straining to hold back his own orgasm. He was a selfless lover, always ensuring that my pleasure was obtained before he could even consider the possibility of his own release.

In return, his fingers teased my clitoris, and there was a proud smirk on his face as if he was enjoying the quick manner in which he had broken me down. “Come for me,” he said, but it was less of a command and more of a courteous request, and I finally let go of all my accumulating stresses, arching my back against the sudden pressure in my lower back - a tight knot that was slowly becoming undone around me.

And in the afterglow of my orgasm, I listened to Felix’s pretty sounds until something warm started to leak out of the place where he pulled out - leaving behind a mess that we would both ignore. Instead, he collapsed next to me on his back, breathing heavy while he turned around to face me. “Was that good for you?”

I grinned at his neediness, but I nodded my head because I knew that he considered his performances inside the bedroom just as important as the advice he gave outside of our personal affairs. “Of course it was,” I said, pecking his lips. “You’re always so perfect for me, Felix.”

His accompanying smile was brighter than sunshine, and I closed my eyes to the sound of a distant roar outside of our fortress.

It was a triumphant sound because it meant that my dragons had returned.

The stars were beginning to fade at the steady emergence of the sun, and I was walking across the bridge outside of the fortress to approach the sleeping forms of my dragons. They had arrived sometime the previous evening - making their anticipated return after journeying far away at my direction. I always worried about them when they were gone, but they had an uncanny ability to return to me even after weeks passed with no sign of their massive bodies creating brilliant shadows among the blue of the sky.

“There you are,” I remarked, smiling when Chan - my oldest and largest dragon - perked up at the sound of my voice. His scales bristled around a heavy yawn, reflecting a liquid black under the sunlight. “Chan,” I said, watching as he turned his giant head in my direction. “I missed you.” He grunted in return, attracting the attention of Changbin and Jisung who both startled awake at the sound of their older brother’s interruption. 

In comparison to Chan, Changbin was the second oldest, and his blue coloring reminded me of the ocean. Then, there was Jisung who might be the smallest of his brothers, but his scales reflected a sharp silver color that made him appear constantly alert. Still, I laughed at their expressions, wondering how anyone could ever be cruel to these magnificent animals when they expressed themselves so completely with a subtle blinking of their eyes or a single noise to demonstrate their opinion. 

But I carefully navigated around their powerful forms, pausing when I noticed the evidence of their last mission. “I’m very proud of you,” I said, running a hand along Chan’s spine as the eldest dragon purred at my praise. “Let’s have a proper reunion,” I suggested, taking several steps back so that they could dismiss the remnants of their slumber.

Meanwhile, I noticed the approach of Felix from my peripheral, and he looked unbelievably beautiful under the lingering effects of the dawning morning. “My queen,” he greeted me, pausing as he studied the three Dragons stretching their wings. “They’ve returned.”

“Yes,” I agreed, holding out one hand to gently caress the side of Chan’s muzzle. He gurgled in response before affectionately returning my gesture. “I think they made their point.”

I pointed to the side where the skeletal remains of the assassin waited on the cold, unforgiving ground. It was the third one this month, and I had grown tired of living in fear of them. But I also understood that it was a good thing - it meant that the Queen across the sea was afraid of me.

“I’m surprised they brought back anything,” Felix remarked, and he was suddenly next to my side.

“Well, I’m sure they wanted to show me that they did a good job,” I said, grinning when Changbin started nipping at Jisung’s wings. “Play nice, boys.”

Changbin turned to me in an instant, releasing a whining sound as if to show me his displeasure. “They obey you remarkably well,” Felix said. “After all, at their core, we’re talking about wild animals.”

“Oh, but they have good hearts,” I said, smiling when Jisung sniffled at my outstretched hand and I allowed myself to give him several pats on the neck. “Did you have something to tell me?”

Felix sighed as if he was burdened by the information he wished to share with me. “Y/N, we don’t have enough ships to cross the narrow sea, and our armies are growing bored with waiting around the city.”

“Hmmm,” I acknowledged him. “What do you suggest?”

“We could attempt to approach the iron bank,” Felix said. “They could give us the gold to build our own ships.”

“I suppose,” I agreed. “That might take more time than I’m willing to give” 

“Well, we can always negotiate with the lords in the next city,” Felix suggested. “Perhaps we can offer them some of our overstocked resources. And I’m sure they’ll never say no to someone who rides on the backs of Dragons.”

“If that’s what you think will work,” I said, turning to look at him before placing a delicate kiss on his lips. “I trust your logic.”

Felix smiled, clearly pleased by my show of adoration. “Shall I find someone with a disposable navy?”

“Thank you, Felix,” I said, reaching into my pocket for a small treat, holding it out for Jisung who happily lapped it up with clear delight. “I think I’ll pay a visit to the iron bank tomorrow. We can try to convince them that investing their resources into our army will be of the utmost importance.”

“I’ll make the arrangements myself,” Felix said before offering me a polite nod of his head. “Will you spend more time with them?”

I grinned. “I have another mission for my Dragons, but I’ll join you inside before noon.”

Felix gave a noise of acknowledgment before I watched him disappear into our carefully guarded fortress.

Braavos was an intimidating city, and there were richly-clad men and women walking along the main roads touting their impressive assets and keeping themselves surrounded by the best that money could afford. I sneered at their ostentatious displays, choosing to travel with a few willing soldiers and Felix without all the ornament. The entire city was a complicated maze but the Iron Bank was, perhaps, the most impressive institution, and I studied the outline of the cathedral as it towered over our surroundings.

Felix managed to arrange a meeting with the most influential bankers, and I was rehearsing what I planned to say to those men in order to convince them that it was in their best interests to support my cause. The Iron Bank was notorious in its reputation, and the men who financed the institution didn’t just hand out loans to anyone unless it was certain they could be repayed. The expectation was pressuring, but perhaps this would be an objective opportunity for me to truly discern what everyone else thought about my cause and whether or not they believed in my success.

Yet, I was still unprepared for the apparent signs of hostility: “What is your business here?” 

I blinked once at the aggressive question, tilting my head at the sole guardian who stood at the doors to the Iron Bank. “My name is Y/N,” I said. “Perhaps this can answer your inquiry.”

The guardian waited for another moment before bowing low at the waist. “Wait here,” he instructed me before disappearing inside the building.

I scoffed and turned to the side to glance at Felix. “Are they always this hostile?”

“They’re unkind to outsiders,” Felix answered, and I pondered over his words even after the guardian returned to lead us into a massive room where three men sat before us on golden thrones.

My first impression was rather hackneyed because the men were all older, clearly aged and experienced, and they wore matching haughty expressions of contempt. In the past, I might’ve felt intimidated by such a reception, but I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. “Y/N,” one of the men spoke up over the others. “Welcome to the Iron Bank.”

“It’s just as impressive as I’ve heard through rumors,” I remarked, allowing my eyes to peruse the surrounding decor - noting the domed ceiling and pristine floors. “I can feel its history.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “Well, we’re honored to meet with someone who has caused quite a stir in our free city.”

“My reputations precedes me,” I said. “I’m very grateful.”

“We’re also quite curious,” a second man said. “What can we do for you?”

“Of course,” I acknowledged. “As my advisor has likely revealed to you, I’m in need of funding for a fleet of ships to carry myself and my army across the narrow sea.”

“How unexpected,” the second man remarked. “The last time somebody challenged for the throne, they couldn’t even make it to the walls of King’s Landing before they were obliterated.”

I shivered at his casual tone. “I have something different.”

“Yes,” the second man agreed. “But differences aren’t necessarily equal to guaranteed success.”

“Regardless,” I countered, “I see this is as a mutual opportunity. When I conquer Westeros, I will repay my debt and more.”

“Such grand promises,” the second man said. “But why should we believe you?”

“I’ve already conquered most of Essos,” I said. “Men have cowered in my presence, and the ones who tried to cross me have paid the ultimate price.” I grinned while chancing another step closer to the bankers. “This is an advantage for the Iron Bank. You’ll already have access to the next ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Yes, but we still don’t see it as an investment that will benefit the bank,” the first man said. “I’d consider your proposal a dangerous liability.”

“Because you don’t believe in my cause,” I said. “How foolish.”

“The current regime has reigned for decades,” the man said. “There’s a reason for its continued success, and that perseverance overshadows a grassroots rebellion.”

I huffed at his assessment. “What fails to convince you? The army serving me with a thousand men? My reputation across Essos? The three Dragons who fight at my side?”

“Even if you are successful,” the first man interrupted. “There’s no guarantee that you’d pay back the debt you will accrue.”  

“My word is not enough?”

“Words can be deceiving,” he replied. “Actions are objective. They speak much louder.”

“Very well,” I said, resigning myself to failure. “But I will always remember your faithlessness.”

“Threats don’t intimidate us, Y/N,” the first man cautioned. “You’d be wise to remember this because you may need us again in the future.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, and I turned my back on the Iron Bank because I would need to search for alternative means if I wanted to cross the narrow sea.

It was late when I finished my meetings with the people of Braavos, listening to their concerns and addressing grievances. It was tiring work, especially when I encountered situations where there wasn’t such a thing as an easy solution. I was exhausted, but there was nothing better to resolve my overflowing tension than arriving back in my room to find a naked Felix arranging a bath.

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked him, allowing my hand to skim across the skin stretching around his jutting hip bone before walking out onto the balcony outside.

It was bitterly cold, and I supported my chin against my upturned palm as my arm rested against the balcony - quietly observing my Dragons sleeping around the shelter of the forest. “You’re thinking hard,” Felix said, shameless as he walked out to stand next to me. 

“I knew there were other options,” I said. “But today was the first time someone has dared to reject me.”

“I see.” Felix nodded, allowing strands of his silver hair to ruffle in the breeze. “I wouldn’t take offense to a bunch of old assholes who have nothing better to do with their lives than play with people like we’re puppets.”

“But isn’t the point of becoming queen to control those strings?” I asked him. “Otherwise, how will I lead the Kingdoms?”

“By being yourself,” Felix said, drawing my attention by using a finger underneath my chin to direct my head. “I believe in you, Y/N. You’ll do great things for the Kingdoms. Nobody will ever doubt you again.”

“But it still stings,” I said, lowering my gaze to his flaccid cock. “I suppose you had other plans for tonight besides consoling your queen.”

“I wanted to please you,” Felix said. “As always.”

“Well,” I said, trailing my fingers sensually down the bare skin of his chest. “Show me what you had planned.”

“It’s nothing extravagant,” Felix said, taking my hand before leading me back inside. “Take off your clothes.”

“Are you giving out the orders tonight?” I asked, although I was already undoing the intricate lacing holding my gown together.

“If you’ll allow me,” Felix said, and I watched him lower his body into the steaming bath water, groaning in delight at the sensation.

 “I’m always grateful,” I told him, removing my gown while pretending like I wasn’t glad to feel his eyes on me the entire time. I joined him with a sigh of content, falling back into his embrace as we both silently enjoyed the water and one another’s company. 

“Can I wash you?” Felix asked, and I nodded before laving a kiss across his jutting collarbone.

In the meantime, Felix reached for the soap and started to slide the bar across my skin, rubbing it between his hands to create extra suds. “What shall we do about the ships?” I asked around a moan, feeling him squeeze my breasts. 

“Leave that to me,” Felix replied, rubbing his thumbs in sensual circles around my nipples. 

“You know that I trust you with my life,” I said, and I could feel his cock growing erect against my lower back. “Who can we approach?”

“I have someone in mind,” Felix murmured softly, and he was unceasing in the gentle kisses that he was leaving across my shoulders.

His name was Lord Park, and there were rumors that his wealth surpassed even that of the Iron Bank. 

“He’s our man,” Felix assured me as we stood outside of his lavish estate - waiting for someone to greet us at the front door.

“It seems like this gentleman has more money than he knows what to do with,” I remarked.

“He also has ships,” Felix said, trailing his fingers across the back of my hand. “If he agrees to help us, then we’ll be ready to sail before our deadline.”

“Good,” I said, smiling when I sought Felix from my peripheral vision. “You’ve done well.” 

Felix beamed at the compliment while the gates of the estate abruptly opened, and an older man with graying hair and a thick beard stepped out to greet us. “My distinguished guests,” he said. “Lord Park is expecting you in the great room.”

“The honor is ours,” I replied with a bow - nodding at the soldiers I had brought with me as we stepped onto the impressive grounds.

My first impression was quite unforgettable - admiring the enormous columns and the elegant statues lining the path leading to the main entrance of a notable mansion. The doors of which were wide open, revealing a foyer with broad walls and an overarching ceiling that stretched to the heavens above. ”The mansion was constructed in the early ages,” our guide explained. “My esteemed patron had the chandelier installed himself.”

“How interesting,” I remarked, exchanging a quick glance with Felix.

“You may enter at your own convenience,” the guide said, pausing outside of a set of double doors. “Lord Park only asks that you leave your men here with me.”

I hesitated at the request, but Felix squeezed my hand in reassurance, and I took a deep breath before reaching out for the door handle. The room that I had entered reminded me of an office: bookshelves lining the walls with ancient texts, and an enormous table occupying the center of the room. “Close the door behind you,” an unfamiliar man said, and he stood next to the large window overlooking the grounds.

“Of course,” I agreed, and I followed his orders before walking in the direction of the table. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Park.”

The older man chuckled, and he turned around to reveal himself to me - fairly young, but with signs of his aging in the light peppering of gray in his dark brown hair. His grayish-colored eyes were narrowed, and he looked me over like I was a piece of meant on display for him. “I’ve heard many things about you,” Lord Park said. “Have a seat.”

I nodded my head to show my thanks before pulling out one of the chairs - watching Lord Park choose a spot across from me. “Your estate is beautiful,” I told him, and he smiled as he reached for two glasses and a pitcher.

“This wine,” he said while pouring me a generous amount. “It was made from the freshest produce in my vineyards.”

I accepted the glass from him with a careful hand - bringing it to my lips to drink a tentative sip. “It’s very sweet,” I said.

“It reminds me of you,” Lord Park remarked as he drank from his own glass. “You see, the wine is deceiving. It’s taste is quite sweet, but it’s made from a very rare ingredient known for its hard interior.” He paused for a moment, meeting my gaze from across the table. “You appear that way to me as well, Y/N. Your overall impression is sweet and innocent - you must know this because you have such a delicate body. Yet, underneath that facade is someone who is capable of destroying her worst enemies.”

“Hmmm...” I trailed off with a sigh was I traced the top of my glass with one finger. “I quite like the sound of that, Lord Park.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he continued, raising his glass to me before finishing the remainder of its contents. “I’ve been told that you have a pressing need for my resources.”

“Your ships in particular,” I agreed. “I’m willing to repay you, of course. If you agree to let me use those ships, then I’ll try to accommodate whatever you might need.”

“There’s not really much that I do need,” Lord Park said, and he waved his hand around as if indicating the general grandeur of his property.

“You could consider this as a potential partnership,” I said. “I have an army, and you have ships without crews.”

“Yes, but I expect something in return,” Lord Park said, and he was wearing a lascivious smile. “What do you think a single man like myself could need?”

I chose to ignore his implications. “I have Dragons, sir. That usually convinces most men.”

“Dragons that serve you,” Lord Park remarked. “What good will that do for me?”

“They follow my direction,” I agreed. “But I could command them to assist you in other ways. Perhaps if there’s someone you would wish to see...vanish?”

Lord Park chuckled. “I have no such enemies, Y/N. However, I do have a rather notable lack of a suitable heir. Perhaps you could help me with that.”

“I see,” I said, nodding my head while tasting the wine once again - faintly recognizing the bitter taste under all of the embellishment.

“Of course, marriage is my price for complete access to my ships,” Lord Park said. “I hope that is no problem for you.”

“No problem at all,” I said, even though my stomach churned uncomfortably at the mere idea.

“Then it’s settled,” Lord Park said. “I’ll have your hand, and you can use my ships for your command.”

I forced myself to smile, even though I couldn’t help but feel trapped by the prospect. Still, I had to admit that it made sense considering his circumstances, and I desperately needed his ships. It was a fair trade on the surface, but deep down inside, I couldn’t help but feel cheated.

Despite the fact that I had tried to withhold my bargain from Felix, I knew that he would eventually corner me and demand the results. Thus, it wasn’t very surprising to see him storm into my bedroom that evening - eyes reminding me of a dangerous storm over the ocean. I trembled from where I sat in front of my mirror, gliding a comb through my hair as I greeted him with brusque tone. 

“My queen,” Felix said, but the sentiment lacked his usual affection. “Don’t you think it’s unfair to keep me in the dark?”

“What are you referring to, Felix?” 

He scoffed at my obvious evasion. “Lord Park ordered his hand to make arrangements with me for his ships, but I’m no fool, Y/N. What did he ask for in return?”

I carefully lowered my comb, looking down at my hands folded in my lap as I mustered enough confidence to reveal the truth. “I may have to marry myself to that Lord,” I said, and I glanced up in time to notice the hurt flash across his expression. “Oh, Felix, don’t be like that. You probably knew this from the very start. It was your idea. You told me that we needed to negotiate for new ships.”

“My idea?” Felix repeated. “Y/N, at such a high price, I would’ve sought alternative sources.”

“But I can’t take that risk,” I said. “Someone else might want something even more onerous, and this is a worthy sacrifice for our cause.”

“But I hate it,” Felix said, and there was a raw emotion that exposed his very soul. 

“That’s a very dangerous thing for you to say,” I told him. “We both knew that those ships would cost us more than we might be willing to give.”

“Yes, but to bind yourself to him forever!” Felix decried, and I was so very upset to see his eyes gloss over. “Y/N, I’ve given you advice,” Felix whispered. “I helped negotiate for your armies! We raised your Dragons together!”

“Oh, Felix.” I sighed. “It disappoints me to hear you speak this way. I warned you at the very start of our affair that you should keep your feelings guarded.”

“Well, I couldn’t help it,” Felix snapped. “I love you, Y/N, and I won’t see you marry another man.”

“Then you won’t see me at all,” I rebuffed, steeling my gaze. 

I knew that the threat was harsh, and Felix was obviously taken aback. “You don’t mean that,” he said, but I also detected a slight hint of uncertainty.

“Perhaps you underestimate my resolve,” I said. “Those ships mean everything to me, and they’re certainly worth more than your cock.”

My heart twisted painfully at the lie, but I was convinced that marrying Lord Park was the only way to earn my crown. And I couldn’t have Felix standing in the way because of his affections for me - no matter how I might feel about him in return. This was the cold reality of a true ruler, and I would have to get used to making these sacrifices for the betterment of my people. 

“Do you really think of our arrangement as nothing more than a means to satisfy your own urges?” Felix questioned. “How can I believe that, after all this time, you only used me because I was able to fill your greedy little cunt?”

“I thought it was mutual,” I said. “Feelings are too complicated, Felix. Can’t you see how they’re breaking us down?”

“Because you’re allowing our relationship to amount to nothing more than fucking,” Felix countered. “I know that you don’t mean these things, Y/N. But I’m furious that you would lie to me for the sake of a potential marriage to Lord Park of all men. I’ll always stand by your side, even after everything you’ve said tonight, but you should be careful who you allow in such close intimacy.”

“I’ll consider your advice as always,” I said, and I returned my gaze back to the mirror just in time to see the reflection of Felix’s retreating figure.

The next evening, I wasn’t surprised to receive an invitation to dine with Lord Park at his estate. Apparently, he desired to understand his future wife and her aspirations, which brought me to my present situation: walking next to a stoically unmoved Felix as we greeted two servants at the entrance to the dining room. The man in question was already inside, and he walked around the table to greet me with a formal kiss to the top of my hand. “Our future queen,” he said with a sultry tone. “You look ravishing.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” I said, ignoring the way Felix glared at our touching hands.

“Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the place right next to the head of the table. “Felix, you can occupy the chair next to mine.”

“How gracious,” Felix muttered, but our host was generous enough to forgive Felix’s dismissive tone. 

“Let’s begin,” Lord Park announced, and we all situated ourselves around the table as several servants entered the room with delicious-smelling platters and dishes full of delectable offerings. “I’ve prepared the best,” Lord Park said. “Help yourselves.”

I smiled in his direction before perusing the vast selections. “It all looks amazing.”

“Thank you,” Lord Park said before briefly glancing in Felix’s direction. “Felix, my dearest boy, you are more than welcome to your share.”

I shot a glare in Felix’s direction because he refused to accept any of Lord Park’s hospitality. “I’m not hungry,” he grumbled.

“Not hungry!” Lord Park exclaimed. “I shall be offended if you sit there while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.”

“Felix,” I snapped - growing more and more irritated since he refused to look at me. “Don’t behave this way.”

“I’m not hungry!” Felix insisted with a far more aggressive tone.

“My word,” Lord Park said. “Will you let him get away with this?”

“It’s been a long week,” I tried to explain. “Felix has been stressed from making arrangements with our armies.”

“It’s still unacceptable behavior from someone in his position,” Lord Park remarked, and Felix’s hand tightened around his fork.

“He’ll improve,” I said, but I knew that Felix’s infamous fits of passionate rage could last for weeks at a time. “Please, Lord Park, tell us more about your daily affairs.”

“I would be glad to lead the conversation,” Lord Park said, and he started launching himself into a retelling of his dealings with a rather mischievous servant who had returned to work that day after nearly a week of constant absences. “Who does he think he is?” Lord Park scoffed. “Of course, I immediately sent him home without pay. We can’t have such actions go unpunished. It sets a bad example for the others.”

“Perhaps he has a good reason for staying away,” I said.

“Oh, he was going on about his wife,” Lord Park said with a roll of his eyes. “But it’s not of my concern. After all, I must keep this place in good condition for my future wife. I’ve been busy renovating a private shelter just for your dragons.”

“Oh, how fascinating,” I lied, dropping my hand on top of his and ignoring the way Felix flinched from the corner of my eye.

“Tell me about the beasts,” he requested. “Are they well-trained?”

“Of course,” I said. “They are quite obedient.”

“It’s just remarkable to me,” Lord Park continued. “They’re such a rare species. How did you find three perfectly good dragon eggs?”

I hesitated at his question, and my eyes met Felix’s for the first time that evening. Because my precious dragons had been a gift from Felix - back when I was still very young and afraid of the world. My aspirations seemed far too ambitious at the time, and I lamented to Felix that I had nothing to support my claim to the throne other than an unverifiable family tree. I told him that I wanted something to make me look powerful, and he had spent days following nothing more than a whispered rumor - until he found what he was looking for in the three dragon eggs hidden away in the mountains. When he brought them to me that night, we made love for the very first time - both young and inexperienced virgins - while the eggs sat next to the fireplace all night long.

But the next morning, the egg shells were in pieces, and three very tiny dragon hatch-lings greeted me with innocent eyes and adorable features.

“It’s a long story,” I told Lord Park before clearing my throat. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

“Take your time,” Lord Park said, but he was clearly at ease while drinking his second glass of wine.

I bowed my head in gratitude before rushing out of the dining room - entering the next chamber where a small window allowed me a discreet view of Lord Park. I could feel my stomach churn while looking at the horrible man - and I desperately wanted to blame the wine but I recognized the bitter sensation of guilt as it sunk against my chest. 

“Do you remember when I fucked you for the very first time?”

I turned around with a start at the unexpected sound of Felix’s voice - spotting him standing at the entrance to the room. “Felix,” I whispered, feeling my heart flutter against my sternum.

“You became my entire world, Y/N,” Felix said, approaching me with measured steps as I forced myself to meet his impenetrable gaze. “I feel like I’ve loved you for my whole life, and I know that I’m the only man who could ever make you truly happy.”

“Felix,” I repeated, but my confidence was in shambles, and there were tears falling in streaks because I was horrified by the idea of marrying Lord Park and losing Felix’s touch forever.

“Tell me again, Y/N,” Felix said, and he was so close that I could see the way his chest heaved with every deep breath. “If you can find the nerve to lie to me like the rat sitting in the next room, then please refuse my heart and end my misery.”

I sniffled because I was close to hysteria as I shook my head, reaching out to wrap my arms around Felix’s neck. “I love you,” I told him. “I don’t know what I would do without your presence by my side.”

“Then we’re the same,” Felix said, and I gasped when he unwound my arms and spun me around - shoving me up against the counter. “Do you think your war is worth that cruel bastard?” Felix asked, and his fingers kept a harsh grip in my hair as he forced my head back against his shoulder - whispers low and seductive in my ear. “Perhaps it might seem like it to you, but you’ll be miserable with him. And do you know why?”

“No,” I said in return. “I don’t know.”

I guess my response wasn’t enough. Because it was like my words had triggered something primal, and I was left at the mercy of Felix as he jerked my hips back away from the counter - only to bend me over as he quickly reached down to bundle the hem of my gown between one hand. And I shivered when nothing but cold air touched my most intimate place - shaking like a leaf when he tugged my panties down my legs. 

“What did those stupid assholes at the Iron Bank tell you?” Felix snarled, spreading my legs and resuming his place in the empty space - pressing the front of his erection against my heat. “Actions speak louder than words, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I cried because it was hard to keep myself together in the presence of this unfiltered Felix - listening to the sounds of his zipper as he tugged down his pants. His cock was warm and rigid when he used his free hand to guide the tip along my folds, moving himself up and down but never penetrating inside.

“What would those people think if they saw their queen begging for my cock?” Felix asked. “Would Lord Park think less of you if he knew that your adviser could take you whenever he pleased?”

I moaned at the rhetorical question - knowing that Lord Park was just on the other side of the glass. It fed my growing arousal, and my mouth opened around a scream when Felix started to push his cock into my sensitive pussy. “Oh!” I cried - a broken sound that only continued to increase in volume as Felix pushed down against my lower back and started pounding his cock between my tight walls.

“I’ll treat you like a slut,” Felix said. “If that’s what you really think of our relationship.”

“Nothing I said was true!” I whimpered. “I love you, Felix.”

“Yeah?” Felix purred, and it was a complete contradiction to his earlier tone. “Will you finally admit your feelings for me, Y/N? Only after I’m forced to make an example of this little cunt.”

“Please, Felix,” I said, sobbing against my forearms as both of his hands moved down to grab my waist - using it as leverage to force his cock as deep as possible. 

“Look at him while I’m fucking you,” Felix growled, holding even tighter to my waist as he fucked me like it might be the last time he would ever have the honor and privilege. “You think he could ever be this good for you?”

“Nobody can ever match you, Felix,” I told him earnestly while trying to support myself against the counter.

“This pussy belongs to me,” Felix said, snapping his hips as if trying to make a point. “It can only be satisfied by my cock.”

“You’re right,” I whined, looking up through the window where Lord Park remained seated at the table - calmly attending to his own business without any idea that the woman he was trying to seduce was getting fucked in the next room.

“You might marry that bastard,” Felix continued, anchoring my thigh around his waist to find an even better angle - hitting my g-spot with every upstroke. “But you won’t share his bed, do you understand? That privilege will remain with me!”

“Felix,” I whispered, closing my eyes when I felt my orgasm approaching - the familiar heat burning inside of me. Hotter than any dragon fire.

“My queen,” Felix said. “Say my name, Y/N. Let him hear how good my cock makes you feel.”

“Shit, Felix,” I moaned, even though I had no idea what I was actually begging him to do for me. But I knew that Felix would always do his best to give me whatever I wanted. 

“Come for me,” Felix grunted, pounding his hips into mine as he knocked my waist against the edge of the table. “I can tell that you’re close.”

But it was still the first time that I had ever come on command, and I screamed his name when I fell apart around his pulsating erection, feeling him continue to move inside of me until he was satisfied as well - cum dripping down my thighs. 

“Remember this moment,” Felix said. “Because I know you aren’t attracted to him, and I know that you aren’t serious about an engagement.”

“I’m not,” I said, leaning back into his weight as he brought us to the floor, allowing my dress to fall into place as he held me tightly in his arms. “Nobody could ever replace you, Felix.” 

“Because you’re mine,” Felix purred, and he was more pliant after being sated, sharing his deepest feelings as we resigned ourselves to the undeniable love that had followed us ever since our very first meeting on a warm, spring afternoon. 

It was such a beautiful recollection, and I found myself crying in Felix’s arms as he shushed me quietly. “I don’t want to marry him,” I said. “But what else can I do?”

“I know, my love,” Felix said, and he was so gentle as he carded his fingers through my hair - knotted from his rough touches earlier. “It pains me to see you like this, but I might have a way to prevent your suffering.”

“It’s never easy,” I said, and Felix smiled when he wiped away my tears. “I can’t turn down his ships.”

“Then marry him, Y/N,” he said, ignoring the way that I shivered. “I’ll handle the rest.”

I swallowed hard at his ominous promise. “What will you do to him?”

“It won’t involve your hand,” Felix said. “Leave it to me, my sweet queen. I’ll make sure that your heart never hurts this way again.”

I lifted my head to meet his familiar gaze, and I saw the determination right in front of me. It was reassuring, and I carefully nodded because I would always trust Felix with my life.

One Month Later

I would always recall the winter’s morning when I set sail across the narrow sea to meet my destiny in King’s Landing.

Our enormous fleet of ships proved to be an imposing force as we started sailing across the waters - leaving behind Essos with my armies attending to their duties. The departure of our forces marked an entire month since I had married Lord Park in a private ceremony in view of the officials and his close friends and family. He had whispered to me during our first dance together - talking about how he was going to put a child inside me. 

Yet, that very same night, he could only penetrate the tip of his disgusting cock before a familiar hand was slicing across his throat - using a knife made of Valyrian steel to end Lord Park’s life. I remembered that there had been so much blood - draining from the terrible man in rivulets of crimson until he collapsed next to me face-down into the mattress. He continued to convulse as he struggled while Felix knelt in his place - wiping the blood from his skin and looking down at me with a desperate hunger. 

The news of Lord Park’s death traveled quickly, and I played the part of a distraught housewife who described the masked assassin who had snuck into our room and killed my poor husband. There was nobody to doubt me, especially when I called my dragons to the official hearing, and their intimidating presence was enough to cement my lie. And since all of Lord Park’s estate belonged to me, I could still claim his ships and wealth - using everything to catalyze my impending journey across the narrow sea. 

I was the ruthless queen who had survived death itself, and my reputation was even more formidable than it was before. There was nothing left to stop me, and I breathed in the scent of the ocean as I leaned against the banister of the impressive warship. From next to me, Felix stood tall with his long, silver hair billowing in the breeze.

“We’ll be there before sunrise,” I said, closing my eyes as I envisioned my arrival.

“Its yours for the taking, my queen,” Felix replied, and I trembled when his fingers followed the path of my spine. 

“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s all mine!” 

Felix smirked at my audacious declaration, and I held my head high as the land grew closer in the distance. Meanwhile, my dragons soared high above my ships and the army that would fight for their new queen and secure my rightful place on the Iron Throne.

[1kook]

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing  wc 7.8k 

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering. 

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done. 

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins. 

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago. 

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull. 

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs. 

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them. 

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply. 

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?” 

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.” 

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” 

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.” 

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins. 

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out. 

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.” 

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?” 

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”  

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie. 

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.” 

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative. 

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else. 

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?” 

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms. 

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further. 

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time. 

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose. 

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look. 

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough. 

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.) 

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?” 

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?” 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his. 

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement. 

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?” 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.” 

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame. 

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head. 

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip. 

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks. 

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too. 

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down. 

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall. 

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties. 

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting. 

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.” 

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you. 

Holy shit this was awkward. 

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.) 

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame. 

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank. 

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now. 

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.” 

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters. 

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.” 

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible. 

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.” 

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.” 

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.” 

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise. 

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.” 

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end. 

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it. 

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases). 

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him. 

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be. 

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse. 

[1:21 am] jk wyd 

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u? 

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it 

[1:30 am] you fuck u  [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep 

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes  [1:33 am] jk but if u must know 

[1:33 am] you I must 

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message. 

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire. 

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert. 

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today 

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else. 

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol 

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today. 

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous 

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door. 

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed. 

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :)  [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall. 

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question. 

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all. 

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead. 

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix. 

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective. 

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh. 

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign. 

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.  

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout. 

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side. 

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.” 

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest. 

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.” 

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.” 

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?” 

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook. 

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.” 

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home. 

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you. 

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap. 

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever. 

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna. 

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist. 

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons. 

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck. 

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties. 

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.” 

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt. 

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle. 

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him. 

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook. 

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?” 

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear. 

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock. 

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.” 

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side. 

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.” 

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.” 

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze. 

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it. 

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror. 

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down. 

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound. 

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?” 

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor. 

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock. 

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it. 

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity. 

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?” 

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.” 

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?” 

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window. 

“Was he good?” She interrogates. 

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill. 

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“ 

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?” 

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry. 

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week. 

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear. 

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit. 

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests. 

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions. 

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn. 

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch. 

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit. 

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.” 

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.” 

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here. 

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.” 

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone. 

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion. 

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?” 

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious. 

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.” 

You blink. 

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?” 

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at. 

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on. 

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be. 

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“ 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities. 

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression. 

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot. 

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?” 

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once. 

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.” 

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands. 

“Ugh, you beefcake.” 

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.” 

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.” 

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.” 

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted. 

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?” 

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]