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extravaguk · 3 years

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook fic

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

♡ — pairing: kazutora x reader

♡ — summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡ — tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡ — a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones for being my lovely beta <3

♡ — masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa. “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash.

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again.

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #kazutora x reader #hanemiya kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora hanemiya #hanemiya kazutora #tokyo revengers #kazutora angst #tokyo revengers angst #kazutora x you #kazutora x y/n #hanemiya kazutora x you #hanemiya kazutora x y/n

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #tw: smut #tw: dubious consent #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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avengerscompound · 3 years

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Small Gods: Spring Thaw - 2

Spring Thaw: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Spring Thaw Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2046

Warnings: nothing this chapter.

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes hates winter. He always looks for the first signs of the ice thawing and new life growing. When that desire for the end of winter brings to him the god of the spring thaw, he discovers a brand new reason to get through winter.

Chapter 2

Bucky arrived at the movies twenty minutes before he had arranged to meet you and then proceeded to mentally curse himself out the entire time because of how eager it made him look. He was just considering leaving and coming back again so he could maybe come off as fashionably late when you appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped and spun around, instantly going into fight mode, and when he saw your slightly bemused expression, he instantly relaxed. You were wearing another warm winter coat that looked impossibly spring-like. This one was sky blue with daisies printed on it as if they were polka dots. Your hat, scarf, and gloves were in a darker shade of blue, and on the side of your beanie was a crochet daisy that matched the ones on your coat. “Hey, you’re early,” he said.

“So are you,” you said.

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “Yeah. It’s been a while and I didn’t want to be late.” He held out a bouquet of different colored tulips for you. “I got you these.”

“Oh my,” you said, taking them and inhaling deeply. “These are so out of season. They must have cost a fortune.”

Bucky shrugged. The bouquet did cost significantly more money than when he’d last bought a girl flowers, but as that was in 1943, he didn’t think it was fair to compare. “It wasn’t so bad. And I knew you’d like them.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. Another first for this new life he had. It felt like a static shock and he flinched a little, and then hoped to god you didn’t notice because he wanted there to be more of that. He wanted that kind of physical affection that had been withheld for so long. “I love them,” you said. “Thank you.”

Bucky turned back toward the cinema and then debated what his next move should be. He had the tickets. Did he offer you his arm or just start walking? There were so many new rules about dating and he realized he didn’t know any of them. Did you hold doors and pull out chairs anymore? Who paid for things?

While he was thinking, you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the cinema. “Come on, slowpoke,” you said.

The warmth from your skin seemed to radiate out from you so that he could feel it through both his and your gloves.

“Do we need to buy tickets?” You asked when you entered the building.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

You took off your gloves and shoved them in your coat and looked up at him. “Then let me buy the candy.”

“Now that hardly seems fair,” Bucky said. “The tickets were cheap. You’ll have to mortgage your house for candy.”

You snorted. It was an adorable sound but you quickly covered your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Bucky laughed and rubbed your arm. “That was cute, don’t worry.”

You shook your head. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” you said. “So now I’m gonna buy candy so I can pretend it never happened.”

He chuckled and followed you to the counter as you bought popcorn, jolly ranchers, and a couple of sodas before the two of you headed into the theater. It was strange how familiar it felt to be on a movie date. Like muscle memory. He sat down in the assigned seat and you put your coat on your lap with the popcorn sitting in his. There was the awkward start where you aren’t sure if you should be touching or not - not that there was much choice in such a confined space. There was an accidental hand touch when both of you went for popcorn at the same time. Then you snuggled into him during the sappy parts and even though having you pressed against him felt alien to him. It felt familiar and comfortable and he put his arm around your shoulders and held you in a casual way he hadn’t done to anyone since before he was sent off to war.

It was dark when you both came out of the theater with your arm tucked in the crook of his. “Do you want to get a bite to eat?” He asked.

“I would love it. Just something simple though,” you said.

He nodded and the two of you began walking down the street together. “Thank you for this, Bucky,” you said as the two of you walked along. “I never do this.”

“I’m pretty out of practice too,” Bucky admitted.

“Why is that?” You asked. “You seem like a natural. Not to mention - you’re very handsome.”

Bucky looked at you, once again not sure if you were being completely honest with him or not. Not just about not recognizing him, but about any of it really. Questioning his reality had become second nature. He was used to being lied to and used. He was used to things being taken from him. “You really don’t know who I am?” He asked.

You stopped walking, a little startled, and looked him up and down. “I don’t meet too many people, I know we haven’t met.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I’m the winter soldier?”

“Winter…?” You said, furrowing your brow. “You control winter?”

Bucky laughed. “No. What?”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Captain America’s friend?” He asked, only to be met with the same look of confusion. “The Avengers?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I don’t keep up with current popular culture.”

“You don’t know about the people disappearing and then the fight and them showing up five years later?” Bucky asked.

“I mean… I know they all went away and came back, but I wasn’t…” you trailed off.

“Captain America? Iron Man? Thor?”

Finally, a glimmer of recognition reached your eyes and you smiled. “You know Thor?”

“I mean, a little. He’s a nice guy,” Bucky said.

“I know,” you said. “He’s really funny. Likes to fight a lot though.”

“Wait…” Bucky said. “Do you know Thor? Like you’ve met him?”

“Yes! I’ve met him. It was a long, long time ago,” you said, nodding enthusiastically. “Are the gods… are we showing ourselves again?”

Bucky blinked at you. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

You looked around and took his hand tugging him along. “We should go somewhere to talk.”

He walked with you until you found a diner and the two of you ducked inside and slipped into a booth by the window. You put your coat with your flowers beside you on the seat and neither of you said anything until the orders had been placed.

“It was easier back before,” you said as you began to play with the little tubs of half-and-half on the table.

“What was?” Bucky asked. “I don’t know what’s going on right now?”

“I’m a god, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky laughed. He wasn’t even sure why because he knew a god. He knew and had experienced far stranger things than gods. But here, sitting in a diner with you, the thought just struck him as absurd. “What?”

“Back before, when people were primitive and didn’t understand how things worked, we just walked with the mortals,” you said, answering a question he never asked as you looked out the window. You turned your attention back to him and lay your palms flat on the table. “I don’t know how to start the story.”

Bucky shook his head. “The beginning?”

“That goes back to before I even was,” you said. “And I don’t have all the story. From what I understand, when the universe was born, the worlds were formed from a central point where all matter was one. And then it exploded out in a mess of matter and energy. Some of that energy you and I would call magic. Some words, like Asgard and Olympus, were drenched in it…”

“Woah, hold up,” Bucky said. “Olympus is real?”

“You’ve met Thor but you doubt the existence of the Greek Gods?” You asked with your eyebrow raised.

“Right, okay,” Bucky said. “Go on.”

“The magic on Earth is weaker and so the gods here are also weaker. We came to be when people pray for us, even if that’s just a muttered hope, like “oh god let me pass this test,” you explained.

“So you’re telling me that there might be a god for the red light changing?” Bucky asked.

You nodded. “Oh yeah, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

“That's…” Bucky said and shook his head as he tried to absorb it. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he settled on. “So what are you?”

“The spring thaw,” you said.

“What? Like Persephone?” Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” you said. “For starters, she lives on Olympus and she’s way more powerful than I am. And she covers all over Spring. I’m just the part where the ice melts. I was way stronger back before industrial farming. People prayed to see the ice receding. Now, it still happens but not with as much need. Oh and also, when Persephone isn’t doing her thing, she has somewhere she goes.”

“What? What does that mean?” Bucky asked. “Where do you go?”

You shrug. “I’m just not.”

“Not what?”

“Not anything,” you said. “I’m here when people start wishing for the end of winter, and I’m gone when they stop.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and nodded. “Would you believe me if I said I know how that feels?”

“Really?” You asked. “How?”

The waiter came over and placed their orders in front of them. Bucky took a drink of his black coffee and wished it was something a little harder. Not that alcohol would actually do anything. “I guess I better start from the beginning too.”

As the two of you ate your meals, Bucky unloaded everything. From when he was born, to going to war, to being captured by HYDRA and experimented on, not just once but twice. About how they brainwashed him and had him commit unspeakable acts, and when they weren’t getting him to do these heinous things, they would freeze him, so that every time he woke he had no idea who he was or where he was or even what year it was. How he’d broken out of it and had to adjust to life on the run 60 years after the last time he had control of his body. How that had ended up going to shit and he’d opted to go on ice again because even that was better than living with what he had in his head. How they managed to get HYDRA out and he was just settling into life again when Thanos happened and he’d just stopped existing.

The food was gone by the time he was done with the story and he was on his third cup of coffee. He’d worry about staying up, but the caffeine would pass out of his system soon enough and besides, he didn’t sleep that great anyway.

You had listened intently, never interrupting, but the expression on your face told him how horrified and sad the story made you. “... and then the Avengers stopped being a thing and I tried to cancel out some of my bad with a friend and then I moved here.”

You reached over and took his hand. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” you said earnestly. “And I can see why we were drawn to each other.”

“Why is that?” Bucky asked.

“I bet you aren’t a big fan of the cold, huh?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, you could say that.”

“Were you hoping for some sign of the thaw?” You asked. He smiled and nodded. “And there I was. I probably felt it too.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“I’d like to see you again,” you said. “Would that be alright?”

“How will that work if you’re only going to be here for such a short time?” Bucky asked.

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy the brief time we have?”

// NEXT

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #spring thaw

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trulycertain · 3 years

Text

I love that in the show, they kept the comics thing of how much Matt buttons himself up around others. Comics Matt has relaxed a lot over the years and accepted that he is occasionally allowed to have fun outside the DD suit, but show Matt is newer to this.

For instance, while I guess it could be overdone, I really like the difference in how Cox portrays Matt tracking movement and sound - The Headtilt(TM) - when he’s in the suit vs out of it. He’s much, much more obvious about it when he’s in the mask. And I suppose it’s partly because he rarely has to focus his senses quite as much in his civilian persona, but it’s also significant that the few times he needs to listen closely and track someone as Matt Murdock, he makes excuses to be alone or disappear into a crowd or wear hoodies or scramble up to rooftops, so he won’t have to focus on keeping up appearances. He’s much less restrained about it when he’s in the suit, and it’s a much more visible process to others - but he’ll also pull it back in when he’s intimidating or reassuring people. I kind of hate the fact he has to keep such an important part of himself tucked away, but it’s also very in-character. And it’s just a nice little piece of attention to detail in the performance. I like how consistent it is.

And then there’s Matt’s shades being another mask motif, which I grew up reading in the comics and will always feel like, “yup, that’s my guy” characterisation to me. Sure, he likes them and knows he carries them off well (red lenses are a statement, and he’s clearly chosen to stick with them, which makes me happy), but the shades are mainly something Matt does to be around other people. As with a lot of real-world visually-impaired and NLP people, he probably got fed up of people being weird about a lack of eye contact, and whenever there's a scene where he's at his most relaxed or emotionally honest, he's usually out of them. They're a very solid, "Right, back to business" boundary for him. (In Mark Waid’s run in the comics, the only time I can think of when Matt went round without them in public, it was because he’d consciously decided to tell the world he was Daredevil, and was trying to make a point of being open and telling his villains, “Come at me.” And it did end up being too much stress, after a while. It was another persona he was putting on, something very out-there for him.)

There's one sort of sweet-but-sad, to my mind, scene where Matt's running over case precedent with Foggy and they're knackered and about to order takeout, and pretty much the minute Karen, who's a new hire they like but don't know well yet, comes in, Matt's sliding the glasses back on and changing his body language. It's just such a blatant example of "friends for ten years" easy intimacy vs. "not quite there yet," and Deborah Ann Woll's acting is lovely; you can tell Karen picks up on it and her brightness dulls a bit, but she's just glad to have friends at all. Heck, before that, there's the scene where she meets them the first time and Matt tells her to come back to his if she's afraid of sleeping at her apartment, he can take the couch and he'll look after her. And it's blatant. She asks him if he's always been blind, and in order to try and get her to level with them and make a connection, he lets her see his eyes and talks about his trauma - and then, "Now, can I ask you a question?" right back on.

He even dials down his humour and his anger - always, always his anger - round others, and plays mild-mannered. He may be dry, professional and thoughtful, but he isn’t mild. As mentioned, it’s interesting seeing how he is around Karen at the start of s1 vs at the end. And the guy who sort of raises an eyebrow but says nothing when a detective threatens to “beat the shit out of him”, or gently deflects with jokes about Foggy playing baseball when asked about the Devil, is not the same guy who attacks punching bags like they’ve hurt him personally and crosses a room in five flips instead of ten steps for the fun of it. Except he kind of really is. That dichotomy is part of why I’m so fond of him.

But while this can be useful, it has its costs. Aside from the casual ableism and dismissal he has to put up with on the regular, it also affects people closer to him. There’s basically everything with Karen in s2, but even earlier than that... When Matt beats down Fisk and talks about loving Hell’s Kitchen and what it deserves, he mentions “my family.” And sure, you can argue he means the people of the Kitchen, and/or Jack, those interpretations are both legit - but an episode or two before, Karen was hugging him and telling him, “You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone” and he and Foggy were agreeing to move forward. You’ve been shown him with his immediate family. (Heck, even Karen uses the words “my family” about Nelson & Murdock.) And he does that in the suit, so it’s a beautiful moment - but it also means that Karen and Foggy don’t see just how much he returns the sentiment. I’m going to assume they know, though. He does express it as himself, in those moments where he gets out of his own way and he’s truly stopped pretending he's someone else. And as this is Matt, those moments are rare gems.

#tru watches daredevil #matt murdock #netflix daredevil #daredevil #obviously feel free to correct me on blindness or comics or... any of this #i wrote a lot of it at six am #meta #ie me rambling #marvel

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passivenovember · 3 years

Note

I love to read anything with vulnerable billy! 🥺

Kitschy, Campy, and Kooky: Pillowcases from Beyond the Veil.

Day Four: Sunglasses

Part One: Rockwell

His mother got into patterning and draping only hours, it seemed, before she disappeared from his life. Her slim, pale fingers cutting and measuring fabric. Sewing strips together and leaving room for true craftsmanship, hands shaking even as the bruises on her arms were laid to rest.

Billy’s mother started out easy, with fleece blankets and cushion covers that complimented the wallpaper in their living room; mustard yellow and fern green and burnt orange. Colors that brought fall raining down from the heavens on even the hottest days of summer.

Autumn was their favorite. Autumn meant snuggling up to watch I Was a Teenage Werewolf and Bewitched, Billy’s eyes drooping closed as his mother read the Archie comics to him under blankets that had little pumpkins and candy corns on them.

Autumn was magical.

Autumn was firewood and hot chocolate and bat shaped fairy lights above the hole in the wall. Halloween. That was always Billy’s favorite.

His mother started sewing pillow cases after Neil caught him sucking his thumb the first time.

It was Autumn. Just before Halloween, or maybe right after. The sky was thick with rain and fog and they were happy.

Happy things never lived long, in their house, for it had to be cultivated. Watered and fertilized. No, their happiness was locked away in a dark room, only to be brought out and held when the house was empty.

They didn’t have enough money in the bank that year to buy a new pillow case, after Billy’s shield was torn to pieces, but they had fabric. Shelves and dressers full of the stuff, spilling out from between the tinges of pain in his cheek.

Neil slammed through the front door and Billy’s mother tried to fix what had been broken.

She got on her knees and straightened his Addams Family pajamas. Took his hands and tried to get him to look her in the eye. “Pick out whatever you want,” She said. His mother’s voice sounded like running water, like swelling rivers. “I have every color. What kind of print do you want, Billy?”

But Billy couldn’t move.

His feet had grown roots, travelling through the hardwood floor and down into the basement. Past his mother’s cutting table and beyond her sewing machine, into the depths of the Earth.

Billy felt himself sinking. Felt himself be buried alive, as his mother rubbed the backs of his hands and tried to bring their happiness back out into the light.

The pillowcase was purple. Just close enough to pink that Billy knew his father would tear it to shreds if he ever saw it himself, but the shade was also mysterious. Blue, like the raging seas during a hurricane. Dark and spooky and smooth like silk against his skin, but also happy, too.

Autumn themed.

Halloween themed, with little bats wearing sunglasses.

“So you can had a slice of your two favorite times of the year, all at once. Summer and Fall, too.” His mother said. She gave Billy the chance to enjoy his gift by hiding the case in plain sight, as the flip side to a slate gray monstrosity that reminded Billy of Neil. Of the eyes, that were always watching.

Billy loved his pillowcase.

Through November and into Yule. Past frozen rivers and into spring, when his mother’s sewing machine disappeared.

Part Two: Bates

The pillowcase was a puzzle Steve knew he was never going to solve.

The fabric was worn thin. Torn and fraying along the seams and sporting a rip down one side, the result of hundreds and thousands of nights in bed with a boy who slept with a pillow cradled against his chest.

Steve wondered if the hideous thing knew how much it was loved.

If it had counted the times Billy had lugged it around the house and on road trips, bearing witness to the battles Steve had lost in trying to suggest they have it replaced with something that didn’t have to be pieced together so it would seem whole.

He hated those bats, too, with their smug little faces. Watching from behind designer sunglasses as Steve tried to pry them loose so he could be closer to Billy. So he could take their place.

Steve would never take their place, it seemed.

He didn’t know why, didn’t understand why, until he came home one afternoon to find Billy on the floor.

Crying, on the floor, or. Dry heaving.

The tears had long since dried, gifting tacky, salt-slug lines down his cheeks as Steve’s husband gripped a long, bat covered piece of fabric in both hands.

“It ripped.” Billy's voice was hollow. Empty. “It tore in half. I didn’t think it would do that, I through maybe I could stitch it back together every time it fell apart, I thought I would be able to keep her with me for a little while longer, I--”

“--Bills--”

“I wasn’t ready for this.” Billy said wildly, clutching the fabric to his tear stained cheek. “I’m not ready for this.”

“It was an old pillowcase, sweetheart, you had to know it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“She’s gone.”

Steve frowned, crouching on the floor in front of him. “Who’s gone, baby?”

Billy’s mouth worked for a long time around words that ended up on the cutting room floor. He trembled, barely letting Steve get an arm around him, as the truth came tumbling out.

“My mama.” He said quietly. “My mama gave it to me.”

“She did.”

“Yeah, she made it for me. Before she left, she said.” Billy chuckled, thick and wet. “She told me it would keep me safe.”

Steve rubbed a hand down Billy’s arm, nodding against a flood of realization. “Yeah, well. She could’ve kept you safe, Bills. She could’ve done that, instead of leaving you with that fucking monster--”

“Can you just.” Billy tangled a piece of purple fabric around one hand. “Can you hold me?”

Steve sat on the ground next to him, and. Tried to understand it.

Coaxing Billy to sleep and failing, day after day, was what made him sign up for the class.

Steve had been hoping the rec center would provide sewing machines. That he wouldn’t have to call Joyce and ask five hundred questions about shit he couldn’t possibly understand. Like presser foots and cutting tables and rounded stencils, and--

“Why don’t you come by the house?” She said. “I could teach you for free.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure.” Joyce sounded like she was smiling. “I’m free on Thursdays.”

Part Three: Curdle

Autumn was Billy’s favorite time of year for a lot of reasons.

The pumpkins, maybe. Most of all. Boozy apple cider with granny smith juice and far too much cinnamon that made their limbs loose and heavy. Cuddling up on the couch to watch Hocus Pocus and Thriller. Trying to learn the dance moves, and. Crying from laughter when they couldn’t learn the dance moves.

And Steve.

Steve Harrington in warm, mustard colored sweaters and beanies pulled far too low over his eyebrows to ward off the chill when he came home from work, trailing the smell of haze-covered trees and maple sugar donuts after him.

He was holding a box, that afternoon.

An orange and black cardboard thing with a bow on top. “Open it.” Steve said, with that glint in his eye.

That glint did a lot of things to Billy. “How come?”

“Because I made you something.”

Billy’s eyebrows shot toward the sky. “You made something? Like a craft?”

Steve shrugged, wind-chilled cheeks turning pink and bright. “Maybe so.” He said softly. And then, “Open in.” Because they weren’t getting any younger.

Billy tore the wrapping paper carefully.

He liked to save it, folded neatly in the holiday section of their basement. Liked to rifle through the discarded coverings when he wanted to find the perfect pattern for--

“It took months to find the fabric.” Steve muttered. “They discontinued it sometime in the late 70s, but Joyce knew someone in town who used to stockpile the shit, so.”

“Steve--”

“It cost an arm and a leg but I wanted to make it up to you.” Steve took Billy’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing soft over the tears that had appeared there. “I wanted to show that you’re safe now, Billy. With me. That even though you don’t need a piece of fabric to protect you, anymore, it’s still nice to have. Even though it’s not the one your mom made.”

The bats smiled up at him, and it was perfect.

Purple. Just close enough to the pink of Steve’s cheeks that Billy knew it was better than the one that had come before because of what it meant. Dark and twinkling like a sky full of stars. Soft and spooky and smooth like silk against his skin, but also happy, too.

So happy.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harringrove #halloween #cw: neil hargrove #cherry lane challenge #day four: sunglasses

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #esperata

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thomotomo · 3 years

Text

“Oh shit”

Pairing: Zach Dempsey x Trans Male Reader

Summary: You get caught by your crush in your binder in the changing room.

Words: 2.3k

You walked inside the changing room, having waited for everyone to leave it. Luckily for you after PE class you had a hour hole where you didn’t had class allowing you to wait until you were sure that everyone had left the room until you could change in peace.

You walked inside and went straight to your locker, the faster you did it, the faster you could go do something else. You took off your clothes and reached for the one you usually wore. You heard a bang echoing through the room along with footsteps going quickly.

You tried to put your shirt above your naked torso but the stress along your internal prayer for that person not being Bryce had made you end up in a tangled mess with nearly nothing covered, especially not the one you wanted to hide. The person stopped in front of you and you barely kept a sigh of relief when you noticed it was only Zach, your crush. Great.

You then remembered that you still didn’t put your shirt on and you turned your back to him to change quickly, face burning with shame. He had hidden his face in his hands, it was

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t knew there was s-someone else!”, he spoke up first and you could feel that he was at least as ashamed as you were.

“I-It’s nothing.”

“No no! I’m really sorry. Erm I-I just forgot something in my locker..”

He quickly went over his locker as you finished to put all your clothes on.

“Are you decent?”, he asked, still not facing you and you were glad he respected your boundaries.

“It’s… It’s okay. Erm thanks for not… looking.”

“O-Of course! It’s normal! It’s your privacy after all!”

You smiled at him shyly before remembering that you could do anything and you were craving a hot chocolate from Monet’s. You opened your mouth just as he did and you looked at each other and smiled awkwardly .

“Maybe we should go outside first?”

He agreed and you left the room, Zach right behind you. You walked in the corridor and went outside the building in silence, which was quite awkward in your opinion. You stopped once you were far enough from the school building.

“I didn’t knew you were hum…” he stopped himself when you dead panned at him and he flushed a bright red.

“I- No I didn’t mean like that because of course you don’t want anyone to know about it but… Okay I’m going to shut up.”

“Yeah.”

Both of you stood there awkwardly and you were shuffling your feet but as it seemed he wasn’t about to say something more. You took a step backward and smiled at him.

“I’ve gotta go… See you later.”

“See you later!”

You left him there and went to Monet, ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on the top. You sat at a table hidden in a corner as you thought about the strange interaction you just had with Zach. You really hoped he wouldn’t say anything about it because if he did you were in deep shit.

At least he had seemed a bit flustered and pretty with what he saw so maybe it was a good sign? You really didn’t knew but hoped nothing wrong was going to happen following that.

You decided to bury these bad thoughts by drinking and listening to music allowing yourself to relax a bit before your last period. You sat here, comforted by the coffee’s atmosphere, really this was your favourite place in the whole town. Your phone rang, indicating that it was time for you to leave for class.

You took your backpack, leaving a small tip for the waitress and went back to the school meeting up with Alex at your locker. Both of you discussed heartily about the last exams you had to take in that class which was AP Biology. You sat inside the classroom next to each other, hoping that you won’t get a bad grade. You tried to ignore the feeling of someone watching you as you were pretty sure it was Zach. You never hated more the fact that he was in your class than right now.

The teacher walked inside and you shut up as she started talking about the exams you passed few weeks back. She pulled them out and went to distribute them around the class. You grinned at Alex as you see your mark, it was above what you had hoped for: 96!

He looked a bit disappointed as he got “only” 78 but you offered to help him to work on the points he might not have fully understood. Right after that the teacher decided you had to do an assignment in duo. You waited until he told more, hoping that maybe you could do it with Alex but sadly she was going to partner you with someone. You listened as Ms. Honecker paired people together and sadly/luckily for you, you ended up with Zach. From one side you were happy because you knew he was working well on the other side you knew it was going to be awkward.

You heard that Alex was paired up with Monty you smirked at him and watched Alex turn a bright shade of red until he swatted you on the arm.

“Shut up. You’re no better!”

“Firstly, I didn’t say anything and second, that’s true. But I’m not the red one!”

“You were thinking so loud it’s practically the same! Of course, you teased me first!”

“Now please go with your partners! This work has to be returned to me for the first week of next month! Good luck everyone.”

You took your backpack and went to meet Zach where he was seated and you nodded at him feeling a bit awkward (just as you predicted, congrats you can now open a fortune teller salon!). You sat next to him and took out your textbook.

“Do you want to come to my house after class? We could start writing a bit more about the subject.”

“Yeah good idea… So… What do you want to start the searches on?”

Both of you worked for the two hours, searching through the textbook interesting info about genes and evolution, sometimes discussing about what particular species you wanted to concentrate on to talk about their evolution and genes that had been kept or not through their evolution.

It was quite interesting and Zach seemed really into Biology and you liked that he was as much a fan of this subject as you were. You were clearly going to have fun for this assignment with him. The two hours went quickly and you packed up your things.

“I…Have to go to my locker and talk to Alex. Do you mind if we meet each other in say… 10 minutes?”

“Good for me!”

You left the classroom, meeting with Alex in the corridor. He grinned smugly at you and you sticked out your tongue at him.

“So? You seemed quite cosy with Zach back there huh?”

“Shut the fuck up Alex! You seemed quite at ease yourself if you want to know!”

“Mmh yeah. And fuck his arms are huge if you want to know!”, he recalled, licking his lips.

“Nope! I don’t want to know more! Especially if you want to describe me some kind of fantasies about him!”, he laughed at you as you reached the lockers.

“I won’t be able to walk with you. Zach and I are going to work on the project.”

“Yeah sure thing “work” I know what kind of work you want to do!”, he did quotation marks with his hands as your face was feeling quite hot at the thoughts of it. You swatted his arm with your hand.

“You’re not better! So, I’m going to go, see you tomorrow Alex and you better tell me that you got that dick instead of harassing me.”

He flipped you off as you walked away to meet Zach. He was scrolling on his phone and straighten out when he noticed you walking toward him.

“You good?”

“Yep we can go!”

He grinned at you and oh my god that was such a beautiful smile. You stood there stunned for a few seconds before following him to his car. You went in and he drove you to his house in a comfortable silence.

When you reached his house, you were quite in awe, it was quite big and pretty fancy (at least on the outside but you were betting that inside it looked quite as beautiful). You walked inside and woaw the inside looked fancy as fuck too, more in a modern way but you were sure that this sofa costed as much as you manga collection. There was a girl seated on said sofa and Zach ruffled her hair.

“This is May, my little sister! May this is Y/N he’s my partner for an assignment.”

“’Sup! So, you’re Y/N? Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise.”, you smiled at her, wondering if Zach talked about you seeing as she seemed to “recognize” you.

You followed Zach to his room and both of you sat on the ground and took out your things. He put on some music in the background and both of you started working on the evolution of the whale and you had fun debating on what interesting part to chose to speak about and more generally discussing about biology.

At a moment you were quite close from each other as you showed him something on your phone. You felt your face burning, trying to ignore this proximity as he read the article on your phone. You had worked for an hour when you decided to take a break from the work.

As Zach was to the bathroom you sent a message to your dad, telling him you won’t be back before 7pm because you were working with Zach. You closed your phone as he walked back in the room with cookies.

“I took some cookies if you want to eat.”

“That’s awesome thanks Zach!”

You took one and ate it as you looked at the room. It was big and a lot of basketball and baseball stars, a classic jock room in your opinion. You felt Zach’s curious gaze on your face and you looked up at him.

“You want to ask something right?”

“Ah! Erm yes… I mean only if that doesn’t bother you…”

“It depends if it’s invasive or not.”, you shrugged, trying to play it cool.

“I was wondering… Does anyone else know?”

“Apart from Alex and my parents nope. I mean that’s kinda the point?”, the question seemed a bit weird because that was obviously the point for nobody to know about that except people with whom you felt wouldn’t do anything to you because of this. But you “let it slide” because it was probably the first time he was faced with this situation.

“Yes… Sorry I… I’m curious but yeah I should shut up.”

You laughed quietly and went back to your cookie you noticed on a shelve the Attack on Titan manga. You quickly finished to eat the cookie and pointed at the shelve, deciding it would be a good way to change the conversation and make it less awkward.

“You like manga?”

“Ah yes! My mom bought me the 1st tome for me to try and at first I was sceptic but I really enjoyed it! Did you read it?”

“Obviously! It’s like in my top 10 favourite manga!”

You grinned as you found another common interest apparently. You discussed about manga for a good ten minutes before you continued to work on the assignment. You had found maybe like 2 pages of sources when the time came for you to go back home. You started to gather your things and Zach did the same, putting everything on his computer.

You took your backpack and Zach accompanied you downstairs and to the front of his house.

“Hey, I can bring you back to your house if you want?”

“Oh, that would be awesome, really thanks a lot.”

He nodded and took his car keys and you sat next to him in the passenger seat, giving him your address so he could drive you. The ride was spent in discussing contrary to the earlier ride.

Once you arrived in front of your house you took your backpack and got out of the car, Zach doing the same. You looked at him curiously as he fiddled with his car keys.

“So… Y’know I wanted to say that erm… I don’t mind who are…”

“Zach what the fuck does this-“, you frowned at him, clearly he was acting weird and this sentence’s formulation was definitely a bit offensive. You weren’t being yourself for people to mind it.”

“I-I’m sorry. Shit I didn’t mean it like that! What I meant is like… I- fuck that.”

“Wha-?”

He took your face between his hands and kissed you. Your eyes widened comically, you didn’t knew he arbored those kind of feelings toward you. After a few seconds he freed you and was visibly blushing, just like you were feeling your face burning.

“I didn’t knew how to say that so… I really like you and-”

“Me too!”, you blurted and put your hand in front of your mouth as you saw him laugh gently at you.

“I’m really sorry if I hurt you earlier… I really didn’t want to say things like that…”

“I understand.. But be careful next time…”

“Yep I’ll do my searches to avoid any mishaps ever again! Can… I have your number maybe?”

“Of course!”

You took out your phone and exchanged numbers, you were biting your lower lips, happy with the ending of the day. His phone vibrated with what seemed with a message of his mother and he looked sadly at you.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow Zach;”

You smiled at him and he took you once again by surprise by giving you a peck on the lips before getting back in his car, leaving you here with a giddy smile and a fast-paced beating heart.

________________

A/N: Thanks for reading it! I hope you enjoyed my fic don’t hesitate to like and reblog! And if you want to support my writing please think about leaving me a tip on my Kofi

#zach dempsey #zach dempsey x reader #zach dempsey x male reader #male reader #trans male reader #alex standall #13rw x reader #zach dempsey x you #thirteen reasons why #reader insert #x male reader #x trans male reader #x trans reader #zach dempsey x trans reader

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janiedean · 3 years

Text

... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

#sanrion #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #jeyne poole #sansa x tyrion #those are the tags i suppose???#my fic

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crimeronan · 3 years

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Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so. yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world. follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content. in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass. which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype. mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that. yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale. both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness?? rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family?? rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life?? rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry?? once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks?? all that repression baybey. this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years. every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far. not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc. i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc. but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me. he’s so fucking good

#replies #tsc #tda #julian blackthorn #meta #long post #ungodly long post.#shadowhunters #Anonymous

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Text

I’ve Got You ~ Mitch Rapp

Mitch marched into the room - masculinity shrouding every inch of his toned body. Unknowingly to him her attention immediately switched to his presence as soon as he entered. Her eyes lingered and mismerised his entire body - from his chocolate orbs to his flexed bicep - awe and arousal oozed off of her.

If she wasn't in the midst of her own conversation believe me she would be drooling a river over him. "So, (y/n), I would like you to train with someone else - perhaps one of the higher tiers. I don't think that it is working out between you and I. I think you need more of a challenge." Her trainer, Daniel, informed wearing a friendly childlike smile.

Since she started this training program at her gym the employees there which also happen to be all men underestimated her abilities and strength. So because of their ignorance and blatant misogyny they paired her with the - said in the nicest way possible - weakest dude in the whole place. Don't get me wrong Daniel is a good guy and is now a great friend to (y/n) but they clearly aren't the best pair due to the clear superiority of (y/n).

"Yeah... yeah sure who?" She muttered kind of dreading the fact that she would have to leave the only friend she made in this place for probably a disgusting sexist pig. "Ugh well I have no clue who it is but you're meeting him in..." Daniel paused checking his watch, "right now." He smiled sweepingly but the nerves in (y/n) just stared to settle in and a hurricane of anxiety bombarded her. She had never been good with new people let alone people that already see her as a inferior.

"What?! I-I can't do it now. I should have time to prepare -you know like about two weeks and I'll be ready." She informed hopefully but was met with the familiar sound of Daniels chuckle. "Oh c'mon you'll be okay. You need to get out of your comfort zone anyways then maybe you'll get up enough courage to ask out walking muscle man." She shook her head ferociously before breaking out into a burst of laughter at the nickname 'walking muscle man.'

"Excuse me what the hell is a walking muscle man?" (Y/n) chuckled into the palm of her hand while Daniel gave her an amused look. "You know who I am mean (y/n)." He insisted but she shook her head. Daniel leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Mitch." Her face immediately darkened at the mention of him.

How did Daniel know about my obsession? Is it that obvious? Who else knows? Does everyone know? These thoughts swam around her head like fishes in a tank. Her cheeks were basically inflamed and the nervous tick she had adapted from her childhood of tapping her foot has returned.

"W-what are you talking about?" She whispers back fear evident in her question. "Oh don't act dumb I know you like him. It's pretty obvious." She groaned. "It is?"

"So you admit him?" Daniel clapped back causing (y/n) to fall into a deeper pit of embarrassment. "Oh god." She said burying her head into her hands. "Oh yes." Daniel smiled content with the fact he finally got it out of her.

Daniel had caught on to the fact whenever Mitch ever entered a room her attention was drawn to him regardless of what she is doing at the time - which includes them being in the middle of a boxing match which happened many times and believe him never ends well. He also caught on to the many times she attempted to go up to him and introduce herself but quickly ran away before he noticed.

"Is it really that obvious?" She complained. "Not to anyone but me. You see sweetheart I know you very well indeed and I know for a fact that you cannot take your eyes off of him." Daniel paused looking around the room. "And from the looks of it neither can he." (Y/n)'s head shot up at his comment and furrowed her eyebrows.

"W-what?" Daniel laughed at her like he had been doing for the entirety of their conversation. To say the least it seemed that he was enjoying this little matching making session a little to much for (y/n)'s liking. "Don't look now but a certain Mitchy moo is looking right at you." He said nodding over to where Mitch was stood.

(Y/n) didn't hesitate to shoot her head over to where he pointed and as soon as she did she was met with Mitchs familiar pair of dreamy eyes. As soon as (y/n)'s gaze hit his his head instantly pulled down avoiding her at all cost. "And you looked anyway." Daniel sang. "Shut up." She replied sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oi (y/l/n) aren't you supposed to be training right now?!" Someone bellowed from the other end of the room. "Shit." The (y/h/c) girl collected all of her stuff recklessly and ran off to where she usually had her training sessions but obviously now she wouldn't be so kindly blessed with his presence but now instead she is going to have to do the worst thing imaginable- socialise.

She entered her little room of the gym and placed her stuff down ordering it as best as she can. "Finally I didn't think you'd show up." A deep almost intimidating voice acknowledged her. Usually she wouldn't be so panicked just by one voice but now it panicked her beyond belief knowing who that voice belonged to. Mitch. "I-oh right oh s-sorry was caught with...-"

"With chatting with your boyfriend?" Mitch interrupted coldly while strapping the straps in his boxing gloves. "W-what? Boyfriend? Never!" She spluttered still not facing Mitchs way scared of what kind of shade of red her face had formed this time. "You know very well who I am talking about (y/l/n). I went out there and saw the two of you so don't act dumb. It's not a good look on you or at least I would say that if I could actually see your face but alas it seems that you have lost the ability to face someone other than the guy your fucking." He spat causing (y/n)'s jaw to drop and her eyes slightly water at the tone of his voice - which may I add reminded her of the trauma she came her to overcome.

"T-the guy I'm fucking? I don't understand M-Mitch." She heard Mitch let out a heavy stressful sigh which she guessed was probably accompanied with an eye roll or two. "God you can't be serious." He laughed humourlessly as if it was obvious who he was talking about.

(Y/n) stayed silent waiting for him to actually form a sentence that didn't ask for more questions than answers. "Daniel." He muttered causing (y/n) to spin around a little to fast causing her to begin to fall down. The girl closed her eyes preparing for the hard impact of the ground but instead was embraced by a pair of toned arms.

"I've got you." He whispered as she opened her (y/e/c) eyes. "I'm not dating, fucking or even thinking about Daniel in that way. I never have and certainly never will. He's just a friend." She reassured him despite not understanding why it mattered so much to him that he need some reassurance.

The words brought a small curve to his plump lips as he held the (y/b/t) girl softly. "Why do you care, Mitch?" (Y/n) finally said breaking the silence that had formed between the pair. "B-because I think I like you." She smiled at him disregarding the feeling that this might be a trick or some sort of weirdly realistic dream and she started to lean in. As their lips inched closer and closer she could tell Mitch was become more anxious by the second.

Just when their lips were about to join Mitch let go. (Y/n) fell back first onto the flooring and surprisingly Mitch accidentally fell too - on top of her. "What the actual fuck, Mitch?" She snapped feeling as if the dream that she was about to experience was completely ripped away. (Y/n) pushed Mitch off of her and sat up waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I-I'm s-sorry." Mitch said not even making a move of getting up but instead completely giving up and just laid there - heart broken. "I thought you said you liked me." The now sat upright girl spoke timidly the tears building up rapidly. "I do." The broken man admitted. "Then why did you let go?"

"I'm scared." (Y/n) was shocked with his confession clearly not expecting the great Mitch Rapp to admit when he's scared of something but now the question is - what? "Scared of what Mitch? Of me?" She asked fear dripping from every syllable.

"Yes! No! Maybe! Kinda! I don't know (y/n). I don't know anything except that I like you and I'm scared." Mitch bursted his hands subconsciously running through his dark hair. (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed in on me hoping for a better explanation than what he had shown so far.

"I-i lost someone. Someone really important to me- someone I loved. A-and now I have to figure out a way to understand how to get by without her. Looking at what am I now compared to three months back I'm better, yes, but not fixed. And with you despite not even having a conversation I feel at peace and sometimes when I just watch you train or eat lunch or anything I sometimes forget about that person. And that makes me hate myself. Then when I almost kissed you that made the hate I have inside overflow." Mitch paused looking over at the teary eyed girl.

"I-it just feels like I'm falling. Like I'm falling from the tallest building I've ever seen and no matter how long I fall for I never hit the ground and you have no idea how much I wanna hit the ground. But I also know if I do hit the ground then I'll lose myself and all the steps I have taken to change from that broken person I was. I want to hit the ground because I want to stop falling but maybe instead of meeting the ground maybe I need someone to catch me. I know I need someone to catch me. So I'm scared hell im petrified b-because I think that person might be you." Mitch concluded his voice cracking at different points and his eyes wouldn't dare to look at her anymore not after the amount of over sharing he just did.

He closed his eyes ready to attempt to settle his thoughts thinking that maybe (y/n) had just left due to the shock bomb he had just dropped on her until a pair of soft perfect lips landed on his. He immediately kissed back grabbing the sides of her face deepening the kiss of that was possible. (Y/n) pulled away causing him to reluctantly open his eyes to see her red and puffy ones.

"I've got you."

#mitch rapp x y/n #mitch rapp angst #mitch rapp imagine #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien #angst

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

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.

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x oc #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff

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mad-madam-m · 4 years

Photo

Oh hey did you guys miss me rambling incoherently and ridiculously in-depth about TV shows? Because guess what I’m getting back on my bullshit again, this time with Gargoyles and this frigging episode holy shit.

(Under a cut because this got. uh. Long.)

This episode, The Price, centers pretty much entirely around Xanatos and Hudson, whom Xanatos has kidnapped in order to test the Cauldron of Life. This is really the first time in the series that we see Xanatos’s big goal: he wants to live forever, and he’s investing a lot of his considerable power and wealth in finding a way to do that.

He’s chosen Hudson as a guinea pig in particular for a number of reasons: Hudson is the oldest of the gargoyles, he mostly spends his time watching TV, and he’s not as strong of a fighter as the others. From Xanatos’s perspective, if using the cauldron goes according to plan, then he’ll have given Hudson a new lease on life. If it doesn’t, then eh, crappy result, but he really hasn’t deprived the gargoyle clan of anything. All the younger, stronger fighters are still there.

Xanatos is just old enough (40 during this episode, IIRC) that he’s very aware of his mortality, and he Does Not Like that. He’s got too many plans, and dying anytime ever sure as hell isn’t one of them. He assumes Hudson, being even older, feels similarly.

Now typically, Xanatos is pretty good at reading people. But he’s made a couple of assumptions about Hudson in particular that come back to really bite him in the ass, and assuming Hudson feels the way he does about mortality is probably the least of them.

Even discounting the thousand-year sleep, Hudson is still well over 100 at this point. He’s seen a lot, and he’s seen how long lives and immortality have affected others (notably Demona and Macbeth). Living forever holds no appeal for him because he finds the downsides to be worse than the alternative, a viewpoint Xanatos doesn’t understand.

But perhaps more importantly, Hudson does not react to things the way that Xanatos expects him to, i.e., the way Goliath would. Yes, Hudson was the clan leader for years before Goliath took over and they have the same morals, but they’re different personalities. Hudson is much more cunning, has been around long enough to understand the shades of grey in most humans, and he is very good at using that to get under Xanatos’s skin.

The back and forth between Xanatos and Hudson is easily the best part of the episode. Sure, Hudson’s the one in the cage, but you can tell he’s found the buttons to push to throw Xanatos off his game. Xanatos spends most of the episode visibly angry, which is unusual for him, and he even deliberately picks a fight with Owen, something he literally never does.

If Hudson were more like Goliath, he would be easier to ignore or dismiss. But Hudson isn’t like Goliath. He doesn’t preach; he asks questions. And those questions are extremely bothersome to Xanatos, probably because they force him to think, and he really doesn’t like the answers.

When it’s finally time to test the Cauldron of Life, Hudson escapes Xanatos’s gargoyle robot by stabbing him in the eye with a shard of his stone skin, and then easily overwhelms Xanatos and Owen. Xanatos is very impressed, as he usually is when someone subverts or exceeds his expectations, and his expectations of Hudson were not terribly high.

And then we get to the gifset at the top of the post, where he assumes Hudson will destroy the cauldron, because that’s what Goliath would do. And really, that’s what we’d all expect: that the hero would destroy the uber-powerful magical artifact.

But Hudson doesn’t.

He puts away his sword and straight-up says he won’t destroy it. To use it or not is Xanatos’s choice, and Hudson won’t make it for him. In the same vein, Hudson’s choice is to be left the hell alone.

He won’t make choices for Xanatos, but Xanatos sure as hell better not make choices for him, either.

And once again, Xanatos is impressed. Full of surprises, indeed.

Thus Hudson leaves, but not without one last question:

Again, he never tells Xanatos what he should think or what he should do. There’s no moralizing like Goliath would’ve done.

Hudson just. Asks. Questions. Questions that need to be asked, because you need to know if you can live with the answers.

And this is how Xanatos looks after Hudson leaves:

He’s angry. Angry at himself for underestimating this gargoyle, yes, but this is more than just anger that his plan got fucked up. Xanatos is pretty much always a “glass half full” kind of person when it comes to his plans getting fucked up.

But there’s not really a silver lining here. Not only has his plan gone awry, but he’s angry that Hudson is making him think about these things. What happens if he succeeds? What will his legacy be? What is he leaving behind? He’s considered the cost of mortality and deemed it too high a price to pay, but I don’t think at this point he’s really, truly considered what all the reverse would entail.

And he kind of hates that Hudson, of all the damn people in the world, is making him think about it.

But angry as he is, Xanatos still isn’t a sore loser:

He recognizes when he’s been bested. Sure, Xanatos could have him recaptured and keep his guinea pig, but that’s not really the way he works. He underestimated Hudson, and he’s got to deal with the consequences of that.

However, the other thing about Xanatos is that he rarely makes the same mistake twice. And he’ll certainly not make the mistake of underestimating Hudson again.

#Gargoyles #David Xanatos #Hudson #s2e15 #The Price #M rambles #M makes gifs #M writes meta #M watches Gargoyles #when I was at the beginning of this episode #painted said to me that Hudson was the best gargoyle to go up against Xanatos #and at the time I wasn't sure what she meant #but now #now I know #and now YOU know #good lord I hope there's more of them interacting later in the series

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

plus one ↠ lee minho

genre: friends to lovers, almost-fake dating au (femme reader) word count: 6.2k warnings: swearing, suggestive (gets steamy at the end), alcohol consumption request: yes (anon) a/n: so this turned out about twice as long as i expected it to . . . there’s a lot to do before you can actually go to a wedding. oh and this includes a guest appearance from park seonghwa of ateez. i promise i think he’s lovely in reality!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You were just sitting down to enjoy a nice cup of tea, which you’d been looking forward to all day, when your phone buzzed. Without even looking at the screen, you already knew who it would be—there was only one person in your life with such uniformly strange timing.

min😼: hey y/n….could you do me a favor? y/n: ……what do you want, minho…. min😼: so my v e r y rich cousin’s wedding is coming up and i need a plus one. it’s fancy, so they want everyone to partnered up and shit min😼: and there will be food. it’ll be good bc these are the rich cousins y/n: oooooh okay, sure! i’m always down for sort of crashing a wedding. when is it? min😼: it’s next weekend min😼: shit please tell me you have a fancy dress y/n: lee minho, are you seriously telling me i have to go buy a fancy dress?? min😼: maybe;;;; y/n: you’re coming with me and paying for half min😼: sure, fine with me y/n: wait seriously? you’re actually gonna do that? min😼: yeah, why not? y/n: nvm~ y/n: so should we go dress shopping tomorrow evening? min😼: sounds good to me! want me to pick you up after i get off work? y/n: 👉🏼👈🏼 please? min😼: you’re damn lucky you’re cute. y/n: see you then!

You closed your phone, still trying to process the fact that you were going to a wedding with Minho. He was a good friend—you’d met a few years ago and had a bit of a love-hate relationship. But ultimately, you agreed that being friends would be much better than not. In the time since, you’d become those kinds of friends who casually held hands, cuddled whenever possible, and shared clothes more than Minho actually realized. (You’d gotten quite good at stealing his t-shirts and sweatpants).

Your friends were convinced the two of you should date but you both just waved them off. Even his family thought you were dating—Minho hadn’t exactly told them they were wrong, though, unbeknownst to you. And now here you were about to go to a wedding with him. When you woke up that morning, you definitely hadn’t been expecting that. But now, you were actually looking forward to what would certainly be a memorable occasion.

Minho picked you up around 5:15 pm and you headed to the mall, circling the parking lot for a few minutes until you found a spot. When you exited the car, the wind blew your hair into your eyes; you heard your traitor of a friend snort as he saw what had happened. Getting your hair back under control, you walked toward the mall entrance. Once inside, you started in the direction of the large department store. But before you could Minho pulled you along with him instead.

At your confused look, he said, “If we’re getting you a dress for a black-tie wedding, then we’re getting you a good quality one.” You opened your mouth to object, thinking of how much it would cost. “No, don’t argue, Y/N.”

Deciding it would be best not to go against Minho when he clearly had a plan, you just closed your mouth and went with it. Minho let go of the fabric of your tank top after several strides, but made sure that you stayed with him—the mall was more crowded than you’d expected. So, after almost losing twice, Minho decided to just go for it and hold your hand. He pulled you close to his side, his hand familiar and reassuring in yours.

You made your way to what you suspected was the most expensive formalwear boutique in the entire mall, feeling self-conscious in your jeans and tank top. The shop attendant, a cheery elderly woman, came hurrying up to you and Minho, fluttering around you rather like a butterfly.

“Hello, I’m Violet! How may I help you all? What’s the special event?” she chirped, giving the two of you what she must have thought was a sly smile.

Crap, you thought, we must look like a couple. Again. You tried to extricate your hand from Minho’s, but he just shifted to lace his fingers with yours and held on tight.

“We’re attending a black-tie wedding,” Minho said, straight to the point as always. “I already have my tuxedo, but Y/N, here, needs a dress. Do you have anything in burgundy?”

You looked at Minho, not expecting him to take the lead in buying a dress, much less choose a color.

“Of course!” said Violet. “Y/N, was it? If you’ll follow me so we can get your measurements and such? Your gentleman friend can wait on the sofa over there.” She pointed to a sleek looking seating area clearly meant for those who accompanied the boutique’s many clients.

“I’d prefer to come back with her and see the dresses,” Minho said, surprising you yet again. The attendant’s smile grew wider as, still holding your hand, Minho walked with you through the maze of evening gowns to the fitting rooms.

“Oh, well, all right,” the elderly woman agreed grudgingly. “But I must insist you stay out of the dressing room. That would simply be one step too far, young man!”

Minho laughed lightly and assured her, “I’ll stay well away, madam. No worries.”

“You had better.” Violet turned to you, holding out a tape measure and a little pad of paper with a miniature pen attached to it. “Have you measured yourself before? Good. Just write it all down and we’ll see what size you need.”

You glanced back at Minho before entering the dressing room—he was leaning against the wall opposite from the Violet, as far from your dressing room as he could get. After a few minutes of wrestling with the tape measure, you emerged and handed over the pad of paper.

“Okay, my dear,” Violet said, “come with me and we’ll see about some styles. What colors, besides burgundy, would you like to try on?”

You thought for a moment, following carefully through the racks upon racks of dresses and suits. “Emerald, black, and teal,” you said before you thought better of saying you’d wear black to a wedding.

Nodding, Violet stopped in front of a long display of gowns that ranged from a deep red that was almost black to the brightest red you’d ever seen. “I’ll just go see what I can find for you, dear,” she said before moving off.

Your eyes darted from dress to dress to dress, the shades and fabrics nearly overwhelming you—you’d never seen so many formal gowns in one place before. Occasionally, you took down a dress to look at it more closely, and soon your arms were weighed down with ten dresses. As you made your way back to the fitting rooms, Violet reappeared carrying five dresses of her own, all in the colors you’d mentioned.

“Now, you just go in there and get these on as best as you can, and I’ll help you with any zippers or ties that you can’t get to.” Violet smiled kindly as she ushered you into the fitting room.

You undressed and slipped the first gown on, trying not to step on the hem, but it was difficult not to. The dressmakers seemed to have assumed that everyone was unusually tall. After straightening the neckline a little and smoothing your hair, you stepped out of the fitting room.

“So, how do you like it?” you asked Minho, who was still lounging against the wall.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’m not crazy about the color, but your hips look great.”

“You—” you began, but stopped because you were in public. Now he commenting on your hips! That was a new one. So, you went back to try on another dress. Each of the next five dresses you paraded in front of your friend somehow didn’t live up to whatever expectations he had for your gown.

You sighed and pouted a little after the sixth dress. “Min, what’s wrong with this one? I like it, plus it’s comfortable! And I’m the one wearing it, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know this side of the family. They expect everything and everyone to be and look perfect.”

“Well, shit,” you grumbled.

“Here,” Minho offered, “I’ll go see if I can find you a dress. Just sit tight for a minute.” Before you could say anything to the contrary, he’d turned and headed into the maze of gowns.

“Your Minho is sweet, offering to find you a dress,” Violet said as she helped you unzip the dress.

“I guess,” you said grudgingly. “I’m not sure he actually knows what to look for, though.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Violet grinned at you in the mirror.

While you waited, you looked back through the dresses you’d already tried on, thinking you’d choose one in case Minho couldn’t find the perfect dress himself. The deep teal dress kept drawing your eye, but you weren’t sure if it was too formal.

“Y/N?” Minho called from outside the fitting room. “Open up so I can give you this dress.”

You took the dress, just barely peaking out from behind the door, and hung it on one of the hooks specifically for the gowns. It was, as you’d suspected, a deep burgundy and not too puffy in the skirt. You weren’t sure about the beading around the bodice, though. But, you’d try it on for Minho—even if just to prove him wrong if it looked horrible.

After struggling with the corseting in the back, you decided to ask for Violet’s help. Ever obliging, she slipped into the changing room and helped lace you into the gown. Somehow, it fit perfectly and you didn’t even have to hold your breath or anything.

When he saw you in the gown, Minho wolf-whistled. “Damn, Y/N,” he said appreciatively. “You look . . . hot. Yeah.” He paused. “Now aren’t you glad I picked a dress for you? I even made sure it wasn’t too expensive.”

“Yeah, thank you, Min,” you said, smiling at him. “I really look hot?” Suddenly, you were very conscious of the dress’s low neckline.

“No, you look really hot. It’s the best one so far. Is it comfortable?”

“I— Okay, I guess I’ll get this one, then,” you said, surprised at how easy a decision it was. “It’s actually super comfortable.”

“Perfect,” Minho said. “Everyone will be entranced by how gorgeous you are.”

Trying to ignore that last comment, you said, “And, um, Violet? Could you help me again?” You were a bit embarrassed to be buying a piece of clothing you couldn’t get into by yourself. Your roommate would just have to help.

As you changed back into your street clothes, Violet and Minho went up to the register. You thought over how much you’d be paying for the dress, and were quite glad that Minho had agreed to pay for half.

“So,” you said as you reached the register, “how much do I owe?”

Violet gave you a little wink. “You don’t owe anything, dear. It’s all taken care of. There was even a discount on this dress!”

You turned on Minho. “You didn’t….”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. Okay?” Minho almost sounded defensive, but maybe he was just tired.

“But I—”

“I said don’t worry about, babe,” Minho interrupted. “See? Now I don’t have to get you a birthday present this year.” Minho sent you a sly grin and a wink. You just rolled your eyes.

“You’ll have to excuse me for saying so,” Violet tittered, breaking the slight tension in the air, “but you two make such a lovely couple. It seems to me you’ll be planning your own wedding soon!”

You blushed. You knew you blushed. How could you not have?

“Thank you, ma’am,” Minho said smoothly. “That’s still quite far in the future, though.” He gave Violet one of his winning smiles that never ceased to make parents, teachers, disagreeable elderly ladies, and, of course, you feel like the most important and lovely person in the world.

“Oh! Well, whenever the happy day is, I wish you both well. Enjoy!” Violet handed you the long dress bag and waved as you left the store.

“Lee Minho, what exactly was that all about?” you demanded once you were well away from the boutique.

“What was what all about?” Minho replied, feigning innocence as he ambled along, hands in his pockets.

“You know what.” You tried not to sound petulant. “Why did you pretend we’re getting married or something?”

“It makes ladies like her happy to think of the younger generation settling down. Besides, she seemed like she needed something exciting in her life. Now, she’ll just spend the rest of the day imagining our wedding, even though she’ll never see us again. See? She gets a daydream and we got the clearly made-up “Cute Couple Discount.” Minho slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you slightly. “Come on, buttercup,” he chuckled, “am I really that hideous for you to hate even pretending?”

Still nonplussed, you shook your head and shoved Minho with your hip—that didn’t stop him from keeping his arm around your shoulders, though. You didn’t reply, since the truth was too embarrassing to even admit.

↠↞

You cursed yourself for a fool as you tried to put on the dress for the wedding. Today just had to be the day your roommate wasn’t around. First, you’d tried lacing it up with the dress back-to-front and slipping it around yourself to just tighten the laces. When that didn’t work, you tried lacing it up loosely and then pulling tight. It still wouldn’t cooperate. Well, there was only one thing for it now.

y/n: ….min you’re on your way, right? min😼: yeah of course y/n: i need help with my dress😩🙃😩 min😼: ok. i’ll be there in 5 mins y/n: thanks!!! you’re the best!!!!😭💕💕💕 min😼: i know

You hurriedly wrestled your hair into a bun, thankful that you could get away with such a simple style. With your makeup already done, you waited by the door, your shoes and a small clutch in one hand and the other holding up the bodice of your dress. This was going to be . . . interesting.

Minho knocked the door and you called, “It’s open!” just as he discovered that very thing. The door opened and—

Lee Minho in a tuxedo was a sight to behold. You wolf-whistled, smirking at your best friend. In response, Minho just raised his eyebrows and inclined his head toward you, as if to say, “You don’t look bad yourself.” You noticed twin flags of pink on his cheeks, too.

“Okay,” Minho said, taking a deep breath as he saw you waiting there in the entryway, “turn around. It’s just simple lacing, right?”

“It should be simple,” you grumbled, “but not for me!”

“I’ve got it, buttercup.” You smiled at that—Minho had recently taken to calling you that nickname far more often than before. “Hold the dress up until I’ve got most of the laces done up, okay?”

Without hesitation, Minho deftly began to draw the laces through the eyes of the corset, occasionally grumbling when one didn’t cooperate. Shortly, you were laced into your dress and Minho was tightening everything to your comfort level. His breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck was horribly distracting.

“Is this good?” he asked. “I don’t want to squish your lungs.”

“I’m fine! It’s actually perfect” You turned to face Minho, and he had to step back quickly so as not to be hit in the nose with the crown of your head.

“All right, then let’s get going. I don’t want to be late—they’d never forgive me.” Minho then tried to shunt you out your own door, but you threatened him with one of your heels.

While the wedding wasn’t too far outside the city, it would still take you and Minho an hour to get there. You hoped it wouldn’t be too hot, since there was nothing worse than body odor on formalwear. Lifting the hem of your dress, you all but clambered into Minho’s car and buckled your seatbelt. A moment later, you were heading toward the highway, your windows down and Minho easily guiding the car between the light traffic. He even let you choose which music you’d listen to—a rare honor. One or two people glanced over at you at stoplights, but you ignored them. What was wrong with dressing up a little . . . or a lot?

“I just want to tell you a few things before we get there,” Minho said when you were ten minutes away from the venue. You nodded. “Like I said, these are the rich cousins. Everyone will be dressed in black tie attire and acting like they know how to behave. They don’t. I don’t particularly want to get boisterously drunk, but most everyone else will. I can’t promise there won’t be debauchery, especially since it’s an outdoor wedding—lots of shadows to slip off to.” He paused, thinking of what else to warn you about. “Oh, and then there’s Great-Aunt Mia. She’s a handful, to say the least, and likes to comment on everyone’s life decisions. Even if she doesn’t know you, she’ll still find some way to be condescending.”

You gave Minho an incredulous look. “And why exactly did you want to go to this wedding if it’s going to be such a shit show?”

“Hey, it won’t be that bad,” Minho countered. “But yeah, I think that’s all I wanted to say.”

“I’ll just stick with you, since I won’t know anyone there,” you said brightly.

As he turned down the long drive lined with an old yew hedge that led to the mansion on whose grounds the wedding would occur, Minho flashed a radiant smile at you.

It was going to be good night.

↠↞

The wedding ceremony itself was beautiful, and you were almost moved to tears along with everyone else, despite not knowing the newlyweds. And no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Minho was sitting next to you, his thigh warm against yours and impossible to ignore. When everyone stood to congratulate the happy couple, Minho put his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing the back of your neck. While cuddling and causal touches were normal between the two of you, something had definitely changed in the past week and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

There was a bit of time between the actual ceremony and the reception, so you and Minho decided to go back to his car and nap. It felt a little odd napping in a formal gown, but you didn’t much care. Sleep was always important in your world. You and Minho laid the seats back as far as they’d go and rolled all the windows down to tempt in a breeze. Just as you were falling asleep, you felt Minho’s hand slip into yours. As if on reflex, you laced your fingers in his.

When you woke to Minho’s obnoxious alarm song, you were still holding hands.

“Ready to party?” Minho wiggled his eyebrows at you, sitting up. “We get to see my relatives make fools of themselves!”

“Oh, you know I am. That’s my favorite pastime,” you said, clapping your hands like an excited child.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Minho said, and you reached out to swat him.

Once you stood outside the car, you decided to redo your bun—you didn’t particularly want to look like you’d just been asleep—but, Minho gently stopped you.

“It looks better loose,” he said, reaching out to carefully place your hair so it sweetly framed your face. It was such a tender gesture that it made your heart ache. So, you left your hair down and, still hand-in-hand with Minho, made your way toward the large tent under which the celebration was just getting under way.

For dinner, you and Minho were seated with some of his younger cousins and their friends. You felt utterly out of your depth, since you didn’t spend much time with fifteen year-olds. They peppered the two of you with questions about adulthood. Thankfully, Minho had been right: there was more than enough food and it was delicious. The wine to go with dinner was excellent, too. You had to stop yourself from going back for thirds of one dish. And when the cake came out, you could barely contain your glee over how good it was. Minho even managed to put a dab of icing on your nose, and laughed himself silly at your look of betrayal.

As tradition dictated, the newlyweds had the first dance. It was sweet and a bit somber. You held back as Minho went to dance as soon as everyone else was invited to dance. The younger cousins flocked to the dance floor like geese. Minho danced exuberantly, joyously, and you couldn’t help smiling at him whenever he faced you. Without his suit coat, he could move freely as any leaf on the wind, and all too quickly, he was lost to you as more and more people flooded the dance floor.

“Hey,” a voice behind you said. You hadn’t noticed anyone approach as you watched a couple in front of you dance their hearts out. Looking up, your eyes met those of an incredibly handsome young man you’d seen in the bridal party. His tuxedo looked so normal that it practically screamed that it cost more than you’d care to imagine.

You gave him a mildly confused look. “Hello?”

“Oh, come on, that’s no way to talk to a kind gentleman simply saying ‘Hello,’” the man said.

“I don’t know you,” you said uncertainly.

“True. Park Seonghwa at your service.” He left space at the end of the sentence, expecting you to provide your name. You didn’t. But that didn’t stop him. “So,” he continued, pulling out a chair next to you and straddling it, “what’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting over here when you could be dancing?”

“I just didn’t feel like dancing yet,” you said, keeping your voice even, and took a sip of your wine. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Seonghwa looked affronted. “Do you see this suit? There’s no way I can dance in this!”

You laughed—you couldn’t help it, not when this preening popinjay was being so ridiculous. And, of course, he took your laughter as a sign that he was doing something right and proceeded to shift his chair closer to yours. A waft of his cloying cologne hit you like a freight train and you coughed lightly, leaning away.

“If I’m supposed to dance in this gown, then you can definitely dance in that suit,” you said mockingly.

“Ah! Care to dance with me, then, beautiful?” Seonghwa stood and held out his hand, expecting you to take it. He had the air about him that he was used to getting what he wanted. “Or we could go somewhere private and I can show you my . . . moves.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not going to dance or do anything else with someone I just met, especially one so cocky as you.” You turned away from Seonghwa to resume watching the guests dancing. A moment later, your view was eclipsed by the thing very person you were trying to avoid.

“Could you move?” you asked peevishly. “Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”

“Why don’t you want to dance with me, hmm?” Seonghwa demanded. “Aren’t I handsome enough?”

“Is that all you can talk about? How handsome you are?” you snapped. “I said I’m not interested, and that should be enough.” Your thoughts raced—usually only one thing worked on guys like this. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

Seonghwa made to grab your hand to pull you out of your seat, but stopped as a hand clasped his shoulder. “Ah. Seonghwa. I shouldn’t be surprised. Kindly fuck off, won’t you?” Minho said as brightly as the glint of sunlight off a lake on a summer’s day. His hair was slightly disheveled from dancing, but that didn’t stop him from looking like a prince to you. In fact, it only helped.

“Minnie!” Seonghwa cried, turning to face Minho. “It’s good to see you! It’s been too long.”

“Hmm, I’d say not long enough,” Minho muttered, but Seonghwa wasn’t paying attention.

“I was just about to dance with— You know, I never did catch this lovely creature’s name.”

“And I’m still not going to give it to you,” you insisted, angry that you’d been called a “lovely creature.”

“Seonghwa, really. Go bother someone else.” Minho’s voice was still calm, but it had an edge to it. “I’m tired of your shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Seonghwa said, looking between you and Minho. Then, sensing that he couldn’t charm his way out of this situation, he stalked off in the direction of the bar.

Letting out a sigh, Minho came to stand by you and gently rubbed your back. The cut of your gown was such that his hand only met bare skin, and you felt a shiver pass over you. A few minutes passed as you both simply watched the gyrating crowd.

“Is he always like that?” you asked suddenly.

Minho looked down at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Hmm?”

“Is Seonghwa always such a dick? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so insufferable and narcissistic,” you run a hand through you hair, the picture of annoyance.

“Yeah,” Minho says sadly. “He’s never really understood that the life he’s used to isn’t everyone else’s reality. And it doesn’t help that he knows he’s disgustingly handsome.”

You giggled. “That’s the perfect way to put it.”

A slow, mellow love song began to play and the young cousins back to the table, too embarrassed to remain on the dance floor. Minho leaned down to your ear and said, “Why don’t you come dance, now. I think the young ones are about to start annoying us again. I promise I won’t leave you on the side this time.”

Smiling, you stood, and Minho’s hand went to your waist as he drew you out onto the dance floor. The skirt of your gown swirled around you most satisfyingly. Dancing with Minho had always been easy, since all you had to do was follow his lead and hope you didn’t trip over your own feet. Tonight was no different. With one hand at your waist and the other between your shoulder blades, Minho held you close to him as you carefully swayed and sometimes twirled together. Your arms had automatically gone to loop around the back of his neck, which made you think of all the times you’d done that with silly guys in high school. Minho laughed, surprised but pleased.

You were aware of Minho’s fingers gently weaving in and out of the ends of your hair, almost as if he didn’t want you to know. You brushed your thumb against the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he sucked in a breath. Something had changed between you and Minho in the past two weeks, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. There was just something about being at a wedding that made you feel especially romantic.

“Lee Minho!” came a slightly hoarse and distinctly peevish voice.

“Oh no,” Minho groaned and rested his forehead on your head, clearly hoping you could hold him up that way.

“Is that your great-aunt Mia,” you whispered, glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the elderly woman hurriedly making her way toward you. Her wispy white hair formed a cloud around her head, much like a dandelion gone to seed. When dancers didn’t move from her quickly enough, she rapped them on the ankles with her gnarled cane.

“Mhmm,” Minho grimaced.

“Should she be on the dance floor?” you asked, concerned.

“Probably not.”

“Lee Minho, what do you think you’re doing?” Great-Aunt Mia said, knocking her cane into Minho’s calves so he nearly fell into you.

“Hello, Aunt Mia,” Minho said, turning to face the disagreeable woman; he kept his hand on your waist, though.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!”

“Sorry, Aunt Mia. I wish I could have visited you, I really do, but school’s just been so busy. I hope you’ve been well.” You could tell by the set of his shoulders that Minho was trying not to be sarcastic toward his elder relative, and decided to snake your arm around his waist. For moral support.

“Minho, you didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend. You will introduce us.” Great-Aunt Mia didn’t ask to be introduced; no, she commanded.

“Oh, right,” Minho said, and Great Aunt Mia glared, as if Minho’s lapse in cordiality was a high crime. “Great Aunt Mia, may I present my girlfriend, Y/N L/N.”

If you’d just taken a sip of your now abandoned wine, you would have spluttered. You couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. Girlfriend? You’d certainly entertained the idea in your wildest, most private daydreams, but never thought of it seriously. Minho always negated any suggestion of you being a couple, so, surely, he was joking this time, too. He had to be. After all, you’d been mistaken for a couple more times than you could count.

“Well, girl?” Great-Aunt Mia’s voice cut through your thoughts like a hot knife through butter. All around you, the other guests continued dancing.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, nearly tripping over your words as you raced to get them out. Great-Aunt Mia was scary. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” You weren’t sure if you should courtesy or hold out your hand to shake hers or what—this interacting-with-rich-people thing mildly unnerved you.

“Oh, call me Aunt Mia—everyone does!” Great-Aunt Mia chortled, then, she peered at you. “So, you’ve won the heart of our darling Minho, have you? Well, what do you do?”

“I—” you began, then had to swallow. “I’m still in college, ma’am, but I have a part-time job at a bookstore.” There was no way you were going to call this harpy of a woman “Aunt Mia.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said, making it clear that she did not think it good in the least. “I’m sure you’ll be a fine wife for Minho. Don’t embarrass us, please.”

Her pronouncement hung in the air as you and Minho simply stared. Then, Great-Aunt Mia sharply turned her head to the side, like a fox that had just sensed a vole nearby, and hobbled away into the crowd of dancers. Even after you could no longer see her, you knew where she went by the yelps of pain from those unfortunate enough to get in her way.

“So, where were we?” Minho said, pulling you around to face him again. As he did so, his hands came to rest on your hips, much lower than before. You could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

Before you could say anything, Minho stiffened as he looked up and past you. “I need you to make out with me,” he said quickly, bringing his lips to your ear. “Please, I’m begging, Y/N. I’ll explain later.”

“Wha—” was all you got out before Minho’s lips were on yours. Without thinking, you fit your lips more perfectly to his and kissed back. He tasted of sweet icing, white wine, and the salt of sweat from dancing. You clung to him, holding on for dear life as reality seemed to shimmer like a veil in front of you. And, Minho clearly thought now was not the time for half-measures, since he’d roughly pulled your hips to his—you could tell his pants were feeling far too tight at the moment. You gasped against his lips as he slid his tongue into your mouth. Minho cupped the back of your head, still holding your hip like a lifeline in a storm.

“Hey, if you’re not gonna dance, get off the dance floor!”

“Get a room!”

“Ooooh, hot!”

You broke the kiss, blushing at the comments from people around you and at how enthusiastically you’d kissed him back. You were both panting slightly.

“Min,” you breathed. “What was that— Why— We just—”

Minho interrupted you with another peck on the lips, then pulled you with him off the dance floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

You followed Minho out from under the tent, away from the people and lights and wine that flowed like Dionysus himself presided over the bar. The memory of the softness of Minho’s lips on yours buzzed through your veins, making you feel warm honey. When you reached an old maple, you stopped, still holding hands.

“Minho, why did we just make out?” you said, looking up into his face. “Not that I minded!” you added quickly.

“Seonghwa was coming toward us and he, well—” Minho looked uncomfortable. “He has a history of trying take away the people I’m dating. I wasn’t about to let him get you.”

“But, we’re not dating . . .” you said, hearing how uncertain you sounded and mentally kicking yourself.

“He didn’t have to know that,” Minho said, his voice firm. “I still didn’t want him worming his way between us.” He reached up and lightly ran his fingertips along the line of your cheekbone. You couldn’t help yourself—you leaned into his touch.

The winking of fireflies in the trees on the far side of the lawn made it look like Minho was surrounded by stars. The next words you spoke took all your courage, and then some, to say. “What if we did date, Min?”

Minho didn’t bother with a lengthy speech detailing the reasons he wanted you. He didn’t fall to his knees and clutch at your skirts, professing his love in verse. He didn’t walk away. Instead, Minho cupped your face in his hands and brought his mouth to yours again.

“Yes, yes,” he said in between kissing your cheeks, your lips, your eyelids, everywhere he could. “Oh Y/N, love, please.” The last word came out a little strangled.

You ran your fingers through Minho’s hair, holding him to you as you all but devoured each other. The fabric of your dress against your skin suddenly felt too tight, and all you wanted to do was yank it off yourself. Instead, you settled for untying Minho’s bowtie and starting on his buttons. At the same time, he began working at the lacing of your gown.

“We,” Minho gasped, “should go back to the car. We can’t just— Not under a tree.”

You giggled at how close you’d come to tearing each other’s clothes off in the middle of a public lawn. While it was still early in the evening, it wasn’t that dark yet. “Come on, then,” you grinned. “We can time how long it takes you to undo the lacing of this fucking dress.”

It turned out that Minho was more adept at unlacing things than you’d expected, and you were soon out of your dress. Minho’s shirt was gone, too. So, clothed in far less than what you’d arrived at the wedding in, you straddled Minho’s lap in the backseat of his car. His lips on your skin felt like the fire that the fireflies in the surrounding trees seemed to hold. But his kisses were still the best, making you feel as though you partook of the sweetest ambrosia.

Your hands were still in his hair as his roamed your back and down to grip your thighs. Minho pulled you closer to him and nuzzled your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. Every time you ground your hips into his, Minho let out a moan so pretty that you thought you could listen to it every day. You were sure that you’d blaze up in a pillar of flame at any moment, you felt so full of frenetic energy.

The heat between the two of you grew steadily until it was all you could do not to cry out. Minho’s body covered you, warm and lithe, and soon he murmured your name over and over and over again. Fireflies danced behind your eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” Minho whispered, holding you to his chest as you curled up on the seat together—your dress made a surprisingly good blanket. “I love you so much.”

“Min, please tell me you mean that,” you said, not daring to believe that you weren’t just dreaming, even after everything that you’d just done.

“I do mean it, buttercup,” Minho said, kissing your temple. “And I’ll mean it every day of my life. I promise.”

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