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sachirobabe · 8 months

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Chapter 5

Gojo Satoru x reader

Wc: 3576

Curseless au

Summary: Amidst the zombie apocalypse, your courage shines as you not only saves lives but capture the heart of Gojo Satoru. Together with his first-year students, you all embark on a perilous journey, not only for survival but in a quest for a cure that adds a poignant layer to the unfolding romance.

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"Where's Shoko?" Gojo asks as the two of you walk back into the kitchen/dining area.

Before Nanami could answer, the kitchen doors swing open, revealing a girl with brown hair. "What now—oh, you must be Y/n." She smiles. "I'm Shoko, I'm so happy to have someone smart."

"Oh, thanks," you laugh, "Are you a doctor as well?" She nods and takes out a cigarette.

"I for sure would've thought that you'd quit those by now." Gojo shakes his head, assisting you in sitting.

"I will." She rolls her eyes. "Unless we figure out how to make our own." Shoko winks at you.

It's ironic, a doctor smoking. They're all about health and here she is, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world, literally.

"How do you deal with him?" She asks you, "I already like you more than Gojo."

"He's not that bad." You say and he grins at you. "Well," you begin, "he did almost get us killed the first time we met."

"He's never leaving your side now." Shoko shakes her head, "You should've seen him before all of this happened."

"He was insufferable." Nanami's deep voice chimes in.

"Hey!" Gojo frowns, "I'm not that bad."

The entire group laughs, it felt a little nice to forget about the tragedies happening outside. It's quickly ruined as you let your mind slip away from the conversation at hand.

You remember everything that you had taken for granted. Now you're sure it'll never go back to normal unless there's another planet suitable for sustaining life. Even then, there's no way of knowing if there's someone capable of building a rocket.

You're in the beginning stages of spiraling, you feel like crying and shutting out the whole world. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, everybody continues the conversation. You briefly hear them talking about getting some rest for the night as you leave.

You quickly close the bathroom door behind you, your breathes become more rapid and tears begin to fill your eyes, you don't bother in blinking them away. You think it's better to feel your emotions rather than conceal them. You manage to keep your meltdown quiet, so others wouldn't worry as they walked by.

The thought of life and how everything is gonna turn out is eating you alive, your tears fall quicker when you think about if you'll survive, you're careful when going out, but are you going to have to live your entire life killing zombies and scavenging for food?

You're overwhelmed by the amount of questions flooding your mind, but you begin to calm yourself down, firstly by your breathing. They're not as frantic as before, you remind yourself to take it day by day. 'You're not alone now.' You repeat to yourself.

You blow your nose and wash your face to cool you down, your eyes look tired as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You give yourself another minute to make it look like you weren't just having a breakdown.

As soon as you open the door you're met with Gojo, his arm freezes in mid-air as he was about to knock.

"There you are." He smiles, you force one back and quickly advert your eyes, faking a yawn. "Everyone's heading to bed, you tired?"

You nod, even though you aren't. "Are you?" You ask and clear your throat after it came out raspy.

"Not really. We don't have to keep watch either, Nanami turned on the fence and made sure all the doors were locked." He says.

"That's good." You nod.

"Let's stay up a bit," He smiles and wraps his arm around you to help. He definitely notices your eyes being red, he's seen you tired and this was not it. "I'm so glad we found my friends—"

"Gojo, I'm sorry, but I really am tired." You interrupt him, now feeling even worse than you did.

He stops you both in the hallway and forces you to take a seat next to him, "No you're not. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm tired like I said." You sigh.

"Liar." He sits next to you, fiddling with his fingers, "I could tell something was up when you left."

You try again once more, "I had to use the bathroom, nothing else."

"Bullshit," He starts, "This is my question. What's wrong?" His eyes now meet yours and you avoid his blue eyes.

You clench your jaw. You felt pathetic having to tell him that you were crying because of the future, you had only known him for a few days, but your trust in him had grown exponentially due to the circumstances, and that scares you as well.

"I didn't feel good."

"About what?" He pushes.

"The future. It's scary and sometimes it overwhelms me." You shrug, resting your head on your good leg.

He stays silent for a moment, nodding to your statement. "You can talk about it to me. No more of this 'I barely know you' bullshit, we're all surviving together."

You flinch a little at his harsh words, "I was just upset, that's all. When I'm upset I cry, it feels better to let it out." Your eyes are now staring into his, "And it terrifies me that I don't know what the future will be like. Will we have enough food? Will the government save us? It's endless."

"We'll get through it. Day by day." He reassures. "You don't think I'm terrified too? I worry about keeping my students safe, my friends, and now you. The government probably doesn't even exist anymore, we're fending for ourselves, which is terrifying, but the more people you have, the easier it is."

You feel your tears begin again and look away, this time you're able to blink them away, Gojo was making it harder because he rubbed your back reassuringly.

"I already failed in keeping you safe." He sighs, "It was so stupid of me to not think about jumping it before the zombies came." His brows furrowed.

"You weren't the one climbing, I was. I got myself hurt, don't feel like you need to take responsibility for that. You've already done so much for your students." You say.

He shakes his head, his white fluffy hair falling into his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do if any of them got hurt. Any of you." He admits.

"You put a lot of pressure on yourself." You say, "I think you should depend on us sometimes too." He smiles softly at your words and gently bumps his shoulder with yours.

"Do you feel better?" He asks, noticing your sleepy face.

"Yeah. Thank you, Gojo." Your head leans back against the wall, your eyelids feel heavier with every blink.

"Satoru."

"Hm?" You say, barely keeping your eyes open.

"Call me Satoru." You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, he doesn't mind, laying his own on top of yours.

It was silent for a few minutes, Gojo listens to your breathing soften and knows you've just fallen asleep. Now that he's alone in his thoughts he thinks about a lot that you said, he wonders how a cure could be found. He knows it'd be impossible to turn zombies back into humans, but what about preventing humans from turning?

It was late enough, he hadn't slept much in days, he was really feeling the effects of it. He gently moves your head off of him and is careful when picking you up bridal style. He quietly walks into the room and sees Nanami awake, a small flashlight in his hand as he reads a book.

He gives his friend a nod as he sees his futon is already set up, he gently puts you back down, making sure your injured leg is straight and not gonna ruin the stitches. Then he places a blanket over your body, he stares at you for a long as he can before his eyes give out on him and he passes out.

Your thigh is extremely sore, the small cuts have began to scab and your stitches are swelling, but that's to be expected. You finish wrapping and stand up, the place has running water and electricity, so you enjoyed a warm shower.

You walk down to get breakfast, wondering what the plans are for today, you see everybody already eating.

"Your food might be cold." Nanami says as he slides your plate and you thank him.

"Do you want it warm?" Satoru asks.

You're a little confused, "What?"

"Your food," He says, "do you want it to be warm?"

"Um, it's okay, it's my fault it's cold—" You begin, but he takes your plate and is off to the kitchen.

"Your leg feeling better?" Shoko asks, her fork is cutting up some of her food as she slowly eats it.

"I'm very sore today, so no venturing out for me." You chuckle, you tell her in a little more detail about the stitches and how it's healing, knowing she'd understand.

Satoru comes back with your food, now steaming. He sits back down and takes a bite of your sausage, "It's a fee."

You rolled your eyes, "Thank you." The first and second years were messing around in another room, so it was just the adults at the table. Satoru really knew how to push people's buttons, you've lost count at how many times Nanami has rolled his eyes at the white haired male.

"I'm trying to be serious here with you, Gojo, but I'm about to throw you out to the zombies." Nanami threatens, he takes his map back from the man child, erasing the drawings he was making.

"You know I'd win." He grins.

"Unfortunately. I'll take you out myself then." He glares and lays the map back out on the table, you move your plate to the side so there'd be more room.

"What's this?" You ask, putting your full attention on the blonde.

"A map, duh." Satoru says obviously. You can't tell if he's trying to annoy you as well or if he really meant his statement.

"I'll help Nanami and take you out too, smartass." You deadpan. "The markings." You face Nanami.

"These are all the radio towers we've tried." He softly smiles at your response to Satoru, but it quickly goes away, you're still able to catch it though.

"Oh shit. You've really gone far." Satoru brings himself back into the conversation.

"We'd like to try this one," Shoko places her finger on the map for a moment, "But it's very dangerous there."

"Gangs?" You question and she nods.

"We'd need all the help we could get, I would've liked to leave today, but.." Nanami stops, pointing to your leg.

"You wouldn't risk going without me? I don't want to hold any of you back." You say.

"Gojo says you're valuable when fighting. I'd feel more comfortable having another set of hands and eyes." Nanami explains, "How long would it take for those to heal." He means the stitches.

"Anywhere from 2-4 weeks if I'm careful and clean the wounds often." You estimate. "Could be longer because I'm running out of antiseptic."

"What's that?" Satoru frowns.

"Rubbing alcohol, idiot." Nanami mutters the last word, but Satoru's hearing picks up it.

"Or hydrogen peroxide and iodine." Shoko adds, "For this being military, there's no infirmary."

"Where the hell are we gonna find antiseptics." Satoru rubs his forehead.

"Luck, by visiting the pharmacy's nearby." You say.

"We can do that." Nanami decides, "Anything to get you to heal quicker."

You give him a small smile and thank the group, they are all getting ready to walk around and try and find some extra resources. You are obviously staying behind, you'd only bring the group down in the condition that you're in.

"I can stay with you." Satoru offers.

"No way. I'll be fine. Nothings gonna happen here." You assure, he's bringing up a chair for you to sit in so you wouldn't have to stand while keeping watch to open and close the gate after they leave.

"They don't need me." He smiles, "Plus I know how lonely you'll be without my presence."

"If anything, she's gonna be relieved." Shoko says as she leans against the doorframe and inhales from her cigarette. Satoru frowns at her, "Besides, I need a bodyguard."

"Nanami will be there." Satoru answers.

She shakes her head, "I need all the protection I can get."

Satoru knows what she's doing, "You've survived so far."

"She doesn't need protecting," She points at you with her cigarette, "she's badass. And she saved you." She reminds.

"I wasn't armed," He defends himself, "otherwise I would've protected her." His nose is high in the air, annoyed with the conversation.

"I'll be okay, Satoru. You guys shouldn't be too long anyway." You shrug, "Now go get ready."

He pouts, really wanting to stay there with you. As he leaves he glares at Shoko and she laughs. Nanami comes up after them and explains how to turn the fence on and off, even though you wouldn't need to, and how to open and close the gate.

It was simple, not complicated at all. Shoko handed you a medical book to read knowing you'd get bored. You open the gate and the group quickly slips through, as soon as Satoru goes you push the button to shut it again.

Satoru turns to face where you're at and waves, you chuckle and wave back, not sure if he can even see you. They slowly become smaller and smaller as they continue walking.

You were advised to not move in case anything happens and they needed to be let in quickly. You weren't planning on moving either way, you want to minimize the movement to not reopen the stitches.

Occasionally you'd read a page of the book and look up and scan the area to make sure the group wasn't back yet. It quickly became tedious, you sigh and push the book to the side. You look out to the semi-open land, it was a little out of the city, but there were still occasional buildings and complexes.

Your mind is constantly worrying about food, there is a storage unit attached to the military base you're all currently staying at, but foods gonna run out quickly even with rationing.

Gardening had been a small hobby of yours when you were little, you remember planting all kinds of vegetables with your mother. You smile softly at the thought, your father would snap pictures of two then he'd join in as well.

'Gardening doesn't sound too bad', you think to yourself, but you also think that you'd all have to be permanently stationed somewhere, it'd be difficult to move plants, you didn't know too much about that.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot white hair, it was of course Satoru. The group was back, you frown as you felt like not much time had gone by. The sun was starting to go down a little, you must've been daydreaming a lot longer.

You make sure no zombies or others were following them as you push the button to open the gate, you shut it once they've all slipped through and slowly make your way back down to the main area to greet them.

"Any luck?" You ask.

"We found antiseptics." Itadori answers, wiping his nose from the cold.

"And some bandages and stuff, no luck on food though." Shoko smiles and takes off her coat.

"Let's go, I'll help you re-bandage." Satoru says, holding you again.

"First-years, you guys are in charge of dinner." Nanami says and sits down with Shoko and the second-years.

"Ramen." Nobara declares as she heads into the kitchen and the two boys follow after her.

"Anything happen out there?" You ask Satoru as he sets you down on the toilet seat.

"Nah. Not much trouble, what about here?" He says as he carefully unravels your wrapping.

You shake your head, "No, but I was thinking," You begin and he nods letting you know he's listening, "I've been worrying about the food and how quickly we're gonna go through it, if we can find some crops or seeds anywhere I can replant them."

"Not bad," He smiles widely, "I don't think we'll be staying here permanently though."

"I know. I'd also like to have a lab to work with Shoko in, you know maybe find out some more things about the zombies." You say, "A military base would be the best for us, it's secure."

"I agree," he sighs, "I'm not sure how long we'll stay here." His hands are careful as he dumps the liquid over your thigh. You're starting to get used to the burning.

"Has Nanami had any luck radioing?" You do some breathing to help get your mind off of the sting.

Satoru shakes his head, "I don't think we will, but it's worth a shot."

You watch him clean up the liquid, his hands are still freezing as ever, but he's starting to get the hang of bandaging.

"Let's get you all better, starting with no walking." Satoru picks you up carefully just how he did the night before.

"Woah—" Your eyes widen, "I can walk—"

"Nuh uh, we want you healed as quickly as possible." He says.

"You'll get tired of carrying me." You answer back.

"I'm strong." He winks at you and then looks ahead.

"What if I have to go to the bathroom." You deadpan.

"Looks like I'm going too." He smiles widely. "Kidding, I'll wait outside." He rolls his eyes.

The next few weeks go by excruciating slow, you felt terrible about getting injured, but it couldn't be helped now. Everyone was so helpful and kind during your healing process.

You had gotten closer to the second-years, all of them have been great. Maki was still a little unsure about you, but at least she was kinder now.

Satoru though, in just a few short weeks you had developed a small little crush. He had a way with words and was much more comfortable with you now. You know it'll go away, you've just been deprived of human interaction. That's what you keep telling yourself.

But in the meantime, it was fun to have one despite the circumstances. He was there for you for your whole recovery, anything you mentioned he got it done.

"You want to watch?" You ask confusingly to Satoru.

"Yeah!" He excitedly says. "I was forced to be your butler so I wanna see my work be payed off."

"You offered." You press your lips into a thin line and he just chuckles at your reaction. You slowly removed each stitch and Satoru watched intently. You could feel his breath on your leg from how close he was.

"We should keep this as a trophy!" He says as you plant them in his gloved hand.

"Why would I do that?" You frown, inspecting your work and seeing your wounds healed. You still put on some ointment to keep it from getting dry and itchy.

"Is this your first time having stitches?" He asks and you nod, "Well, I'd say that's a milestone."

"We're not keeping them. That's gross." You say and force him to toss them in the trash.

"Let's see that leg in action." He backs away and gasps dramatically as you stand, "Good as new! All thanks to me." He stands proudly.

You roll your eyes at the man and walk past him, it felt good to stand and walk on your own. You still have to be careful since the area is still a little tender. Everybody was sat near the kitchen, all eyes turned to you and smiles were plastered on every face as they realized.

"You're good as new!" Itadori gives you his famous smile.

"Glad to have you back, these losers need a bodyguard." Nobara says and both boys glare at her.

"We should start planning." Nanami says as you sit down, he notices Satoru walk into the room and frown when he sees his students already taking a seat next to you. Nanami eyes the spot next to him and Satoru grumbles.

"It'll take us about three weeks to get there and back." Shoko says, pulling out a small notebook and pencil to write things down.

You feel someone bang on the table twice, all of your attention goes to Inumaki as he signs, "What about the cars?"

Nanami sighs, "It'll bring too much attention. I don't want any trouble." He signs back.

Inumaki thinks for a moment, "I think it'll make us look scarier and less approachable."

"I agree." Panda signs.

"Maybe next time, we have to be strategic with our risks." Satoru joins in and Inumaki slumps in his seat, not wanting to walk for weeks.

"We have our rest stops, remember?" Maki says to help ease the pain of walking for long periods of time.

"And what if the tower doesn't work?" You say, Satoru interprets for Inumaki since you're still learning to sign.

"At least we'll know." Nanami eyes the map, "I know there's a huge military base near the coast. I used to drive by it sometimes."

"It's far from where we are and if we get there and find out it's taken, we'd have nowhere to go." Shoko adds.

"Alright, so when do we leave." You say.

"Tomorrow." Satoru declares.

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animepopheart · 1 year

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Hello! As a Christian man, I hope you'll give me some helpful advice on the matter.

You see, I've been overweight my entire life. Not too much. Now I'm in my 20s, weight 176 lbs and I'm standing at 5′ 5″ height. White American, long dark hair, I dress nicely, wear makeup and try to follow the latest trends. I'm also trying to smile, be friendly and do well in school. However, never in my life have I been noticed by a guy or invited on a date. I decided to be more outgoing so I went partying with my friends. Sure, I met some guys who wanted to use me sexually. But no one ever called me the next day or tried to get into contact, invite me on a date, pursue a serious relationship.

Is it because I'm fat? Is my worth based on my weight? Am I such a bad person? Should I lose weight so people can love me more?

P.S. Even my own parents fat-shame me and tell me that I'll develop serious health issues if I don't take care of my "problem" soon. I've been healthy my entire life and can't remember the last time I went to doctor appointment. I have normal menstrual cycle, normal sex drive. I never smoked, never vaped, never did drugs. I never felt bad in my body. But because of other people, I feel so bad for being alive.

Hi, Anon!

I'm sorry that you're struggling through this. It sounds like such a burden to have to deal with these thoughts and the pain that others empress upon you. As a guy (regardless of my faith), I can definitely say that we men often throw away higher ideals in pursuit of sexual attraction of a very specific image of what we think women should be. It's hurtful and shameful on our part.

There's so much else to address from your ask, too, but I don't feel qualified to really give you my thoughts on much of this. I would say one thing, though: from my perspective as a Christian, self-worth is found in God's love for us. The depths of his love for someone like me who has so many flaws and continually pushes God away shows me my worth. I try to turn to that truth when I'm feeling down about myself, including about my attractiveness.

Take care, Anon! I hope for all the best for you.

#anonymous #christianity

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nectaric · 2 years

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— basics.

▸ is your muse tall / short / average ?

hades is 6'3 so he's definitely quite tall!

▸ are they okay with their height ?

i think hades n hera were the same height for quite some time and hades was insecure about that, but as he came into his own he became a lot taller and he's more than pleased.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming ?

hades is quite particular about his appearance, and while i wouldn't say he puts a ton of effort in, he is very insistent on showering regularly, and smelling good / looking put together. it doesn't take him long to do his hair or put himself together, but he will make sure he is put together.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance / what others think ?

yes, absolutely. for a long time, his appearance was the one thing he could change to make his issues seem less dramatic. if he spent some time making sure there wasn't a hair out of place or that his clothes were freshly pressed, then it would be easier to hide how much he was struggling. prim and proper hades was a cover-up for i'm an alcoholic with cripping anxiety hades. as he's gotten sober, hades has taken less of an interest in his appearance. he hasn't let go, necessarily, but he allows himself to dress in a way that's comfortable and not just in a way that's presentable.

— preferences.

▸ indoors or outdoors ? indoors.

▸ rain or sunshine ? sunshine.

▸ forest or beach ? forest.

▸ precious metals or gems ? gems.

▸ flowers or perfumes ? flowers.

▸ personality or appearance ? personality.

▸ being alone or being in a crowd ? being alone.

▸ order or anarchy ? order.

▸ painful truths or white lies ? painful truths.

▸ science or magic ? magic.

▸ peace or conflict ? peace.

▸ night or day ? night.

▸ dusk or dawn ? dawn.

▸ warmth or cold ? warmth.

▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends ? a few close friends.

▸ reading or playing a game ? reading.

— questionnaire.

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits ?

there are simple answers, and there are complicated answers. hades has engaged in a lot of s/elf har/m in his life, which includes his drinking and drug use. but these are habits he has been able to curb / found healthier outlets for. other bad habits include isolation when he's feeling overwhelmed, smoking cigarettes, driving too fast (lmao), and self-doubt of all kinds.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ?

the death of his son completely changed the trajectory of hades' life and his ability to function in life. he struggled with very poor mental health, closed himself off to his other children, and made him turn to really poor coping mechanisms that incapacitated him for centuries. he didn't know how to grieve, almost wouldn't let himself really grieve, and it took a serious toll on his life and the lives of those who mattered most to him.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has ?

there are so many moments from when his children were growing up that hades looks on with so much fondness. those years were some of the best of his life! there were also moments, in the early days after the titanomachy where he and his siblings were free and still close that hades remembers with so much love.

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill ?

i don't think its necessarily easy for hades to do, but it is such a muscle memory thing that he's able to do it without much hesitation. he's not ever thrilled at the thought of doing it, but he will do it if necessary. he's not particularly violent in the way some other gods are, so he does try to avoid it if possible.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down ?

panic attacks, drinking, self harm, isolation, self-loathing, bitterness, angst angst angst. he's always on the verge of a breakdown it seems lmao, but he's got some pretty unhealthy coping mechanisms and when he falls apart its catastrophic, even if its not something that anyone else can see. he takes it all out on himself, and becomes a bit of a wreck. but he's working on being better <3

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ?

very few people, but yes. he would trust any of his children, his wife, or his siblings with his life. he would trust someone like thanatos. but i think hades is the kind of person who would do everything in his power not to put anyone in that situation. he will be responsible for his own life, damn it.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love ?

lowkey kinda stupid, ngl. hades is a very logical, intelligent person, and while he cares deeply about people he doesn't feel love very often / experience it very strongly until it hits him like a train. he becomes more irrational, willing to do anything for the person he cares for. he's not very affectionate physically or with words, but he will shower the person he loves in gifts and attention of any kind. he's willing to sink to levels he wouldn't normally because his ability to reason is just. always skewed lmao

#hades.#I LOVE HIM AHHH #self harm /#alcoholism /#death /

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purplesurveys · 11 months

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1761

How did it feel outside today? I didn't go out, but in any case to my surprise it was cold all day – I haven't turned on my fan at all, and right now I even have my blanket around me without anything running. I don't know if this is still one of those rare good days in the year, or if it could already be the start of the Christmas weather.

Are there any animals in the room with you? Nopes. I'm in my room; the dogs sleep downstairs.

How did you spend yesterday afternoon? I was just working and had been in a couple of meetings as well.

Are any of your siblings taller than you? They both are. I'm the smallest sibling and also the smallest in the immediate family, haha.

Name a song that reminds you of a past relationship: Sparks by Coldplay. Thankfully I associate Coldplay so much more with BTS now because I love the band and it would've sucked if I had to stop listening to them.

When did you last have a nightmare? I feel like it was just recently, but I can't remember exactly when.

What's the goriest thing you've ever seen? TRIGGER WARNING: DEATH, BLOOD. Either photos of actual corpses on the internet, or select wrestling matches that are known for having been extremely bloody. I have a very specific memory of watching Vince McMahon's forehead literally pumping out blood cos his cut went way deeper than it should have.

Have you or do you attend pep rallies regularly? I haven't. I know my university had those as an annual thing but I never was able to attend any because I could never find anyone who wanted to watch it.

Have you ever seen a building on fire in real life? I haven't, but seeing massive clouds of smoke from a distance from burning buildings is something I'm fairly familiar with. The last time had been in July when we were staying over at a hotel and could tell there was a fire going on at some province all the way south, like in Cavite, from that giant-ass cloud of smoke we saw from our floor.

Have you kissed anyone and their first name started with an F, D, or L? No, I haven't.

Have you ever been in therapy for anything? Nope, haven't been to therapy.

Do you think clowns are creepy? They can be but they aren't the creepiest things in the world for me.

If you had to write an essay about a popular song... what would that song be? Let's go with Gangnam Style by PSY.

When did you last have some fruit? Every day I was sick in the last week my mom fixed up this drink for me to consume and I'm pretty sure it had some kind of fruit in it; I'm just unable to identify which.

What's something you have to look forward to? Getting to head out again after finishing my quarantine. I completely forgot that the local Audrey Hepburn exhibit is only running until the end of the month, so I really need to book a visit within the next weekend as it'll be gone by the 28th.

Is there any part of your sexual/romantic history that you have not told your current significant other about or that you will not tell future partners about? There is a small part that I probably would have to mention, but it's too personal to discuss in detail here.

Have you ever developed feelings for someone whose sexual orientation was incompatible with yours? Nah.

How many relationships have you been in that actually got sexual? Just one.

Who performs the most random acts of kindness out of everyone you know? Probably Bea. Girl always has surprises up her sleeve.

Are any of your pets “overweight”? Cooper may be slightly overweight, but it's not like alarm bells level and we definitely watch how much we feed him so that it doesn't start becoming an entirely bad health issue.

Who’s the most romantic person you ever went out with? I've only gone out with one person.

Last person to tell you that you smell good? My sister.

Last person you told that they smell good? That's not really something I tell people and tbh the last time I remarked they smelled nice it was to my dogs hahaha.

What shows do you watch? I gravitate towards sitcom the most since I prefer easy watching, so shows like Friends, The Big Bang Theory, Brooklyn Nine-Nine...I also started on The Office earlier this week. Every now and then I'll watch something a bit heavier as I can only enjoy a good drama; most recently I finished DP.

Is there anything you are craving right now? I'm feeling pretty full right now actually so I'm good.

Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you laughed with them? A million times and more.

What are five Halloween costumes that you’d like to wear in the future? RJ of BT21; Diane Nguyen from BoJack; Joey Tribbiani from that scene where he wore all of Chandler's clothes at once; a bottle of peach soju; and the dude from the 'A child' Vine hahaha.

Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what color his/her eyes were? My ex, yeah I do.

Whose Facebook timeline did you post on most recently? I don't post on anyone's feeds. I think only older people do that anymore.

Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? If not, would you even want to try one? I haven't, actually; I didn't even get to try any bug dishes in Thailand when I was there – our itinerary was so packed we didn't have time to look for restaurants or stalls that had them :( But yes, I'm adventurous when it comes to food so I'd definitely try.

If anything, I went to a Thai tasting menu event a couple of weeks ago and I took up the owner's offer to try one piece of cricket. It tasted like chicharon, just a bit more savory.

Which edible flowers have you tasted? I don't think I've tried flowers before.

Who was the last non-relative woman you spoke to in person? Fern.

What was the last video you added to your favorites on YouTube? I don't really do that. The most I do is just press like on videos.

Who was the last person that apologized to you? I think Coleen.

What comes to mind when you think of pregnancy? Expenses.

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid.

Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday? It'll be one of my cousins' birthday on November 3rd.

What is your favorite flavor of Jolly Ranchers? I've never had a Jolly Rancher.

Is your favorite animal endangered? No.

Are you better at writing fiction or non-fiction? Non-fiction. I have absolutely zero luck with fiction; I've just never figured it out.

Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? Neither.

What is the middle name of the last person you texted? I have no idea.

Have you ever come close to drowning? Yes, when I was 9.

So… remember Girl Scout cookies? Any favorites you had/have? No I don't. We don't have those here.

Why did you ignore the last person you ignored? Because it was a work-related person messaging on a fucking weekend and they should know to leave me alone.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Pluto :) If I could have Baymax in dog form too that would be so fun.

Do you like chocolate milk? Just Chuckie. I'm not too fond of everything else.

What is something you hate, but wish you loved? Hiking and more outdoorsy activities. < So real. I wish I could love hiking but tbh it is the worst thing in the world.

What’s the cutest thing your S/O does, but denies it’s cute in any way? I don't have one.

Who have you hugged in the past month? Idk, I wanna say around 10-15 people? I've seen a good number of friends this month so far.

Last bad news you heard? Family death for one of my co-workers.

Have you ever dined alone at a restaurant? Yup, several times.

Have you seen a baby being born in real life? I have not.

Do any of your exes know each other? I only have one.

What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? Continuing to be supportive of the Marcos regime.

Have you ever changed in front of the last person you kissed? Uh, sure.

Do you have any goats? I don't own any goats, no.

Do you hang out with your sibling’s friends? Nah, they like to keep to themselves and that's fine by me.

Have you experienced any severe side effects of medications? Well, I've been bruising this last week but I'm not sure if that's simply because of my weakened immune system or the meds I took.

On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? No, never did that.

Have you lost any close family members to cancer? One.

Do you know anyone who doesn’t have a middle name? I've met people who only have one first name, but they're very rare.

How often do you check your emails? For my personal email, at least once a day.

Would you want your kids to have your hair color? All Filipinos have black hair so I don't really have a choice lol.

Have you ever had a big YouTuber reply to a comment you left on their video? Nah. That'd be cool, but also I never comment so HAHAHAHA

Have you ever given a lap dance? Nope.

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! New customer here. I was wondering if we could have hc's for Yae Miko, Lisa and Ningguang with an s/o who's significantly shorter than they are and feels a bit worried that they'd think less of them for it?

Them with a reader that's self-conscious about their height

characters: Ningguang/Yae Miko x gn!reader (seperate)

warnings: reader smokes in Ningguangs part (don't know if it's that important to say it, but it's always better to be safe than sorry)

a/n: I'm sorry that I didn't write for Lisa. While I normally have no problem with writing for her, I wasn't really happy with her part this time and since I didn't want to keep you waiting even longer, I decided to leave it at Yae and Ningguang.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ningguang

It wasn’t unusual for Ningguang to meet people shorter than her, but none of them were as obsessed with trying to prove everyone else, that their height didn’t mean that they were to be underestimated, like you. And even though there were hardly any people that thought that, you still dived into word heads-first, trying to complete in one day, what an average human could do in a week.

At first Ningguang didn’t have anything against your work ethic. Why would she? If you managed to do the work of several people, then she had to pay less employees. But once the two of you became a couple and there was still no sign of you toning your working hours down, she started to get worried about your health and so decided to finally confront you.

When you heard the door open and Ningguang walk into your room, you immediately dropped everything you were doing and jumped up from your seat to greet her, completely forgetting for a moment, that she wasn’t just your boss anymore.

“Lady Ningguang, I didn’t expect you to visit me. Do you need something from me?”, you asked nervously, only to cringe at your behaviour once you remembered that she was your lover. Instead of answering your question, she offered you an exact replica of her pipe and when you looked between her and the pipe, wearing your confusion on your sleeve, she went on to explain.

“You should try it. Smoking never fails to calm me down when I feel stressed”, you wanted to deny being stressed, but when she pointed out the circles around your eyes, you admitted defeat and the two of you went to the nearest balcony. You had never used a pipe, so when you stared at it, wondering how to use it, for just a little bit to long, Ningguang eventually showed you.

You had seen her smoke all the time, so you expected there to be at least something about it that would make it worth the time, but when you inhaled the smoke, you instantly started coughing as if your live depended on it.

“I hope you already know that you don’t have to work yourself into an early grave. Don’t get me wrong, having diligent employees is what everyone dreams of, but you’re taking it too far”, Ningguang stated as you were still trying to catch air. It was almost as if she planned on you being too preoccupied with breathing, to argue with her.

Before you even had the chance to tell her about how you worried, that she or others would think less of you if you stopped working so much, she continued speaking.

“And don’t worry about anyone thinking less of you just because of your height. If there’s someone, they will have a problem with me.”

Yae Miko

If there was anyone in Inazuma that teased you for your height, it definitely was Yae. But she somehow found a way to make you embarrassed with her remarks, but never made you feel bad about yourself. But even with her carefulness, you still found yourself worrying about her or other people thinking less of you.

Whenever Yae heard or witnessed anyone making fun of your height, she simply walked up to them, acting the same way she did with visitors at the shrine, while ruthlessly spitting out sentences that were enough to significantly damaged even the biggest of egos. All the while wearing an innocent smile.

The two of you found yourself walking through the streets of Inazuma, Miko wanting to show you the new books her publishing house had released, when you accidentally bumped into a person. You wanted to apologize, but quickly froze when you looked up and saw that you were standing in front of a person you never had a good relation with. When they inevitably said something degrading about your heigh, you simply chose to ignore them and walked away, but before you could get out of earshot, you heard Yae starting her usual routine and stopped. While it felt cathartic at first to see their confidence being stripped away, Miko simply didn’t stop. At the end it felt more like watching a public execution and even though you had no real reason to, you started to feel pity and decided to drag your girlfriend away from them.

“Why are you dragging me away? I was just having a nice conversation”, she asked innocently.

“I’m thankful for you trying to avenge me, but I have to try to resolve these things on my own”, you spoke as if you weren’t the one that always became visibly upset whenever you were reminded of your height.

“I know that, but you belong to me and I wont let anyone ridicule you for something as stupid as height”, she dropped her act and showed herself unusually serious.

The two of you eventually decided to forget what happened and went to eat fried tofu, but you couldn’t help but feel happy about what happened.

#genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x reader #yae miko #yae miko x reader #ningguang #ningguang x reader

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berriesandjunnie · 2 years

Text

❝ negative friends / negative lifestyle ❞

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° synopsis she’s convinced he needs new friends, he’s convinced she’s bad for his health. ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° genre & tags fluff / rebel!chan / innocent!reader / student!au / mentions of cigarettes/smoking, alcohol, suggestive conversation topics ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° pairing chan x afab!reader ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° w.c 2.3k words

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° author’s note THE TEASER THAT DROPPED TODAY?? BAD BOY CHAN??

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ now loading… enjoy! ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

Rain danced down the classroom windows accompanied by the soft pitter-patter, rhythmically creating a song of April showers. This didn’t bother you however as you stayed sat at your assigned desk during the lunch period, where you stayed during even past the permitted classroom hours. In your mouth was a strawberry lollipop and your head in some fantasy novel you’d plucked from the library. You’d only occasionally stretch your legs to wander across the classroom to see how well your best friend Seungkwan was studying for your upcoming finals - usually it wasn’t well, as he was most likely yet again daydreaming about another boy who’d noticed his existence.

You basked in the silence of the empty classroom, enjoying the music the rain made effortlessly on the window while the rest of your classmates were away enjoying their lunch period elsewhere. You were no study-obsessed student like some students in your class, although to the unknown eye you would definitely appear to be one. You simply followed your intuition to remain in a small friendship circle whilst you were in education, which contained Boo Seungkwan and occasionally the foreign exchange student Joshua Hong. You were merely a girl who everyone knew and spoke to, yet nobody was friends with. You liked it that way, no drama.

The classroom door slid open, interrupting the silence you were happily bathing in. No one really came back to the classroom unless they forgot something, making your eyes move from the pages in front of you to the intruder of your silence. When your eyes landed on the reddish brown hair of the male, you rolled your eyes. You watched as he searched his bag in a panic, swearing under his breath. With a stressed groan, he stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. What on earth was he looking for that was so important? His eyes suddenly fell on you. He gave an almost weak smile as he laughed nervously.

“Do you sit here all day?” He scoffed, his eyes glancing you over momentarily as he debated if he even knew your name. You swirled your tongue around your lollipop before you pulled it out of your mouth to speak.

“Typically, yes,” you hummed, leaning back in your chair as you eyed him in return. His white school shirt was half untucked, his tie loose around his neck and he had a few shirt buttons undone. It was a completely different look than you saw him in previously during the day, when he rocked up in the car park looking incredibly smart. You furrowed your brows at the thought, “aren’t you supposed to be looking for something?”

“Yeah,” he didn’t scoff this time, his voice a little lower as he looked down at his bag with a confounded expression, “I either forgot them or my mom searched my backpack before I left and confiscated them.”

You eyed him once more, admiring the glittering silver ring on his pinky finger as he ran a hand through his tussle of hair. Humming, you slid a bookmark into your page and closed the book gently.

“You don’t even like cigarettes, why do you try so hard to?” You asked quietly and Chan didn’t respond. A blinding flash of lightning outlined his face, a mix of confused and defensive. You sighed, putting the lollipop back in your mouth when he didn’t respond, turning your attention to the rainstorm outside.

“You don’t know me,” Chan sneered, looking away suddenly as you glanced back at his standing figure, “what makes you think you know whether I like cigarettes or not?”

“Because I vividly remember seeing you grimace and cough your lungs up this morning when you took a drag in the car park,” you stated boldly, not afraid to hold eye contact, “and it wasn’t the first time either. Damaging your body for some disposable friends? Not worth it.”

Chan let out a defeated grunt, pulling his chair out harshly and slinging his body into it like a child throwing a tantrum. You rolled your eyes once more as you looked back out the window. You were almost bewildered with your own behaviour, you’d never spoken to Chan a day in your life prior this moment and yet, unlike everyone else, you didn’t cower and hide in his presence like he wanted you to. He didn’t intimidate you - you just saw another student pushing himself into an unhealthy lifestyle all for some friends and it upset you.

“I’d have no one else if I didn’t blend in with them.” Chan finally mumbled from where he sat at his desk like a hunched figure. One of your brows raised at this as your gaze kept moving back to him.

“You don’t know that,” you sighed out, rubbing your temple, “here, Seungkwan and I are planning to go to the park this weekend. Come join us.”

Chan looked over at your form with a baffled expression. You simply shot a smile his way, continuing to play with your lollipop before lunch ended.

As you sat on the outer wall of the park, an almost melting ice lolly in your hand, you would yet again roll your eyes at Seungkwan’s complaints.

“I still can’t believe you would even invite him,” he whined with a pout of his full lips you were ultimately jealous of, “what makes you think he’ll show up? I wanna go sit on the grass already.”

You merely took a lick of the tropical lolly in your hand as it began to drip a sticky substance onto your skin. You grimaced at the feeling, admiring the bustle of Seoul’s street on this warm April day. The weather had finally picked up after the storm, bringing blue skies with no clouds and hotter temperatures. You attempted to hide your frown regarding Seungkwan’s words. You didn’t know why part of you thought he’d turn up and you always didn’t know why part of you was hoping he’d turn up in the first place. You wanted to prove him a point, that he didn’t need to do excessive things like breaking the law all for some friends to hang out with.

A sigh escaped your parted lips as you looked down at your converse, admittedly a little defeated at the thought that you could hope that hope in Chan. As you raised your head again, about to announce to Seungkwan that you could finally go find a patch of grass to sit on comfortably, your eyes landed that familiar reddish brown hair and your eyes lit up, slapping Seungkwan’s arm excitedly as he approached.

“Hey,” Chan mumbled awkwardly, sending a wave to Seungkwan who didn’t quite know how to respond yet before turning to you, “I thought you would have ditched me by now, sorry I was late.”

You shook your head, sending him a warm smile as you took another lick of ice lolly - that you should hurriedly eat at this point, “no need to apologise. C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

Chan walked by your side, Seungkwan on your other side as the three of you headed through the bustling park. You were not a fan of overly crowded places, causing you to wince and grimace every time someone touched you. Chan was beginning to notice, a little more eager to find a clearing on the grass. Suddenly without thought, his hand reached for yours and began to pull you to a spot. Your spare hand automatically grabbed Seungkwan’s wrist, pulling him along in a train of sweaty teenagers.

The three of you sat on Seungkwan’s plaid picnic blanket that he laid out. You ultimately thought he would have been joking when he said he’d bring a picnic but as you laid eyes on chocolate dipped strawberries and flower shaped mango pieces, you wish you’d believed him sooner. You let out a hum, rolling onto your front as you popped a piece of mango into your mouth before looking over at Chan. He’d opted for a sleeveless tank top and khaki shorts, something you’d have not expected to see him in with how his appearance looked sometimes at school. He was leaning back on his arms, his head tilted back where you could see the pale skin of his neck in the sun’s bright glow. His jawline was sharper than you expected and for some reason with the angle you had of him, you could picture him taking a drag from one of his friends’ poorly rolled cigarettes, tilting his head back and blowing the smoke out in a dimly lit room. You shook your head, reaching for another mango piece. Who would bother to think so stupidly? You’d only spoken to him for the first time a few days ago - talk about rushing it.

“You know...” Seungkwan spoke up, taking a delicate bite of a chocolate dipped strawberry as he acquired the attention of Chan and yourself, “Chan I have to ask, are you still a virgin?”

You choked on your own breath, reaching to slap Seungkwan’s leg as he looked at you with an innocent expression.

“What the fuck, Kwan!” You huffed, hiding your face in your hands. How could he ask that so nonchalantly? You exhaled, hoping Chan wouldn’t be angered by the pressing question when they’d barely spoke a word to each other.

“Yeah.” Chan mumbled and you slowly turned your head to look at him. He was angling his face, hiding it slightly in shadows so the sun couldn’t illuminate the red of his cheeks as he embarrassedly opened up to two people who were borderline strangers to him.

“But-” Seungkwan opened his mouth to ask more presumably, and you bit your tongue to stop you from getting defensive on behalf of Chan however he opened his own mouth to interject.

“But Taeyong isn’t a virgin? I presume that’s what you’re going to say,” Chan moved his head to analyse Seungkwan’s expression and how his lips yet again formed a pout, “they planned a whole party tonight just to try get me to lose it. They don’t exactly care who they lost it to - I do.”

“They planned a whole party just to lose your virginity?” You choked the words, bewildered that that was the type of people he was hanging out with as he nodded.

“Alcohol and all.” He sighed, grabbing a piece of mango and popping it into his mouth to signal he was done talking. You frowned, glancing back at Seungkwan to see him equally as concerned for him.

Chan began spending a lot of lunches in the classroom with you. He didn’t mind if you had your head stuck in some novel since he’d practise dances. He’d admitted to you once before that he wanted to be an idol dancer. You admired his motivation and encouraged him daily about it. He was still off with you and as much as you wanted to press him on it, you wanted him to take his time with realising you and Seungkwan were not enemies - and were most likely a lot better than his current ‘friends.’

He threw himself into his chair, panting heavily as he chugged a bottle of water. Shakily he reached up, running a hand through his messy hair as it stuck to his shining forehead. You hummed, looking back down at your book.

“I don’t know how you can keep dancing in this heat, maybe you should stop for a while.” You advised quietly as you turned a page, uninterested in watching his facial expressions as you reached into your bag, pulling out a strawberry lollipop.

Chan was quiet for some time. He still roughened his uniform up - you suspected because he’d meet with his friends at some point and didn’t want to seem too prim and proper for their liking.

“Why do you care about me so much?” He suddenly asked and you raised your head, lollipop in mouth as you stared at him in surprise.

“You mean, why am I not letting you fall into a trap of negative lifestyles all for some friends you could not be speaking to in about a year?” You rose a brow, lollipop in the corner of your lips as you spoke. Chan blinked, looking away.

“It’s just causing me issues when you didn’t exist in my life a week or so ago,” he admitted softly, taking another drink of water as he turned to face the front of the classroom, “you care so much y/n, when no one else does and it’s becoming addictive to be around all the time. Almost like you’re an unhealthy lifestyle for me. I’ve built my entire high school livelihood around being in that friend group for the sake of a reputation and then some girl comes along and just... I don’t know.”

You stood from your desk, holding your lollipop in your hand as you walked to the front of the classroom, standing before Chan’s desk.

“Say it to my face.” You mused as you locked eyes with Chan. His cheeks flushed and you smiled a little awkwardly, not sure if this would go the way you expected it.

“Y/n, I think I like you.”

The words came out soft and timid, reflecting the exact opposite of how Chan had been when you finally spoke to each other. The curl of your lips widened more proudly as you leaned forward onto his desk, letting his hand cup your cheek as he reached up and pressed his lips to yours. The taste of strawberry lollipop melted back and forth between lips as you pressed your hands to his desk to stabilise yourself.

“Good,” you breathed in between kisses, as his hand held your chin so carefully, “I think I like you too.”

#lee chan #svt fanfic #svt #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt dino #student!au #slight rebel/bad boy!au #reader isnt as bashful as i usually make them holy-#yeah no that teaser MMMM #screaming they all look HOT #cafeshuaaa

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peninkwrites · 2 years

Text

the dead don't dream - ch 37 of 37

Tommy gets to jump. Wilbur still smokes. Maybe there's a party too. And there's music. Of course there is music. They're going to be okay.

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 36

Some nights Tommy will wake up screaming, feeling so clearly, so certainly, that he is there again. He never got out. Dream is still waiting just around the corner and dying will never be an escape.

Those nights are not spent alone.

Maybe there was a time where Tommy would have awoken, alone in his home and found a corner to curl into until he could stop himself from shaking, and maybe Tommy still wakes up alone, but he doesn’t let himself stay that way.

It depends on the night, on the nightmare, but Tubbo and Ranboo will always wake up and open their door to him. Someone will make hot cocoa. Someone will put their arm around him. And they will both listen. Some nights Tommy stumbles to Wilbur’s rough equivalent of a house in the remake of the camarvan, and there will be a fair chance that Wilbur is already awake, sitting outside, as if waiting for him.

“Ayup,” Tommy announces himself, cane thudding against the wood as he emerges from the darkness, following only the orange glow of Wilbur’s cigarette.

“Ayup,” Wilbur replies. He puts out the cigarette on Tommy’s approach. Tommy appreciates it, even if the smell lingers and sours in his nose.

Tommy sits beside him on the narrow steps up to the door, shoulder to shoulder with him without invitation. “So. I sorta thought it was like, some cosmic shit that every time I came over here you were already awake, like you knew I was coming, but just occurred to me that’s fuckin’ nuts. So. Do you ever sleep?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says completely unconvincingly.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says scoldingly.

“Well, I must sleep some time,” Wilbur huffs. “And I do, really. Like. I go to bed like an hour after sunset like an old man. I just don’t… I don’t sleep heavy. So. I usually wake up a couple hours later and… sit around until it feels worth trying to go back to sleep,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That sounds bad for your health.”

Wilbur laughs. “Yeah, because if I got a solid eight hours a night I’d be in fantastic shape.”

“I mean, not as strong as me,” Tommy says haughtily. “But couldn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Wilbur rolls his eyes, hands fidgeting restlessly without a cigarette. He looks over at the lanterns over New L’Manberg. “I remember making those. When I was a ghost sure, but when I was younger. I guess that’s why I did it.”

“Yeah. Things were… things were looking better here. When I was exiled– When I was… taken away,” Tommy says. Tommy is still working on saying that properly. There are so many frivolous little shifts in language that change so much. Tommy was exiled, sure, but really he was kidnapped. Just like when people got nervous about Wilbur and said that he left instead of saying the truth, that he killed himself. It’s harsher, but Tommy thinks the more they call these things what they are, the less power they have to hurt them. “Not like I did much to help, but Tubbo and Ghostbur, or, you I guess, made this place a lot better. Last I saw there was a huge fucking wall around it, so. Definitely improvement.”

“Right. It’s strange, you know. I mean, I’ve said it before, the double memories, sort of, but I remember being here and… and building that crane,” Wilbur nods over to the crane hanging over the water. “And setting up the lanterns, but at the same time, I’m sort of… sort of in awe of it. Whatever I did, whatever that isolated part of me did, I think… I think Tubbo is the real reason all this made it here, you know?”

“Yeah. Tubbo was… he was real tough. About all of it,” Tommy nods. “I mean, he wasn’t alone. At least at the start, he wasn’t alone. Quackity and Fundy and even like, Phil and Ranboo. I should’ve been there for him more. I was…” Tommy glances to Wilbur. “A bit caught up in my own head.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur understands immediately.

Tommy waves him off. “We got through our shit in Limbo, no need to drag it back up now. But Tubbo was mourning too. And I was supposed to be his VP.”

“If I remember right, you were a pretty great VP. Not your fault shit hit the fan on your second go of it,” Wilbur shrugs.

Tommy scoffs. “Of course you’d fuckin’ say that… But you’re right. I was a pretty great VP. The best VP to ever fucking VP.” Tommy nods solemnly. “I guess Big Q can be the best substitute VP. Definitely not gonna give his Manberg days any credit.”

Wilbur laughs, “how generous.”

“Thank you. I am very generous.”

“And humble too.”

“Obviously.”

A pause. Wilbur still feels restless without a cigarette. He knows he should stop, at least try to wean himself down to only smoking on rare bad days. It just made things easier sometimes, it was a hard thing to let go of. “So, nightmare?” This is usually how nights like these go.

Tommy nods, but doesn’t reply.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about it, man, but usually when it means you walking all the way over here it’s pretty bad,” Wilbur keeps his tone casual.

“Yeah. Well, you know.” It’s strange. When Tommy has nightmares about Limbo, he’s more inclined to go knocking on Tubbo and Ranboo’s door even if they have no way of understanding. It’s almost easier that way. That he can talk things through with them without the knowledge that they know the suffering he refers to vividly. Better than Wilbur knowing too well and getting pulled down with him. When the nightmares more heavily feature Dream, Tommy goes to find Wilbur. It’s easier than trying to describe it to Tubbo, who still feels weighted with the fact that he’s the one who let Dream take him away the first, and Wilbur had been his only beacon when Dream had him, so Tommy can’t help but feel a bit safer from Dream beside him now.

“It’s alright, man. You don’t have to,” Wilbur repeats.

“Not much to say, really. You know how it goes. Dream comes back. I try to run. A-And he– I don’t–” Tommy pauses. “It fails,” Tommy decides to stop there. His subconscious has quite the repertoire of violence to draw upon in his memories. Sometimes nightmares feel a little too real.

Wilbur nods. “Yeah. I don’t remember my dreams much. But you know when it’s a nightmare and your feet get stuck to the floor? I hate not being able to run in dreams.”

“Yeah, but they’re never like that. Not these ones. I can run as much as I want, as hard as I can, and it doesn’t matter because… Well, the real trouble is I don’t have anywhere to run to. I’m always alone and… and lost. And Dream never gets tired,” Tommy sighs. “Aw, now you’ve done it. I’m talking about it,” he groans.

“Hah, you wanna talk about your feelings, Tommy?” Wilbur puts on a patronizingly endeared tone. “Aww, Tommy, you come to your big brother to talk about feelings? What does your heart say? Tell me.”

“Fuck off.”

Another pause, Wilbur unable to stop his worries from surfacing. “But… the nightmares are getting better? It’s been a while since you last had one.”

“Well, no. I had one a couple nights ago, just went and bothered Ranboo and Tubbo instead,” Tommy says dryly. “But… actually, before that, it’d been… I dunno. At least a week since I’d had one. That’s something, right?”

“Yeah!” Wilbur nudges him. “Progress is progress, right?”

“What about you, then? Shouldn't you work on sleeping?” Tommy gives him a look.

“Yeah, probably,” Wilbur shrugs.

“You should ask Ponk. They offered to give me something to help me sleep. It’s mellow something,” Tommy says. “I dunno if it works. Before we knew Dream was gone, I didn’t want to take anything that was gonna make me out of it if I had to run. You know,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur ignores the unsettling nature of the latter half of that statement and focuses on the former. “Mellow something?”

“That’s what it’s called. ‘Cause it mellows you out I guess.”

“Melatonin, Tommy,” Wilbur smiles, unbelievably fond. “They offered you melatonin. It’s… It’s the thing our brain makes to make us sleep.”

“I fuckin’ know what melatonin is,” Tommy bursts out. “I just didn’t– I didn’t connect it, what it was.”

Wilbur makes no effort to suppress his giggles.

“What’re you laughing about, bitch?! You’re the dumbass who can’t sleep right,” Tommy snaps with little bite.

“Oh, then what’re you doing up in the middle of the night, hm?”

“Besides the point! We’re talking about your bullshit,” Tommy pouts. “I am trying to show concern,” Tommy says with dramatic patronization. “You just get some of that melatonin shit so you sleep better. I am telling you to.”

“Sure, for you Tommy, I will,” Wilbur is far too genuine in his endearment. “You know, I’m really glad you come over. That you feel like you can do that, like, after nightmares. That you can talk to me about… about things, all this,” Wilbur gestures vaguely to the air.

“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to talk about this shit, remember?” Tommy almost doesn't know what to do with Wilbur’s thoughtfulness.

“Yeah, that,” Wilbur scoffs. He raises the unlit cigarette out of habit before irritatedly putting it back down.

“D’you wanna play cards?” Tommy notices. He always does.

“Bit late for cards,” Wilbur gives him a look.

“Yeah. Bit late for a lot of things,” Tommy shrugs.

“Yeah. I don’t want to…” Wilbur grimaces. “I don’t want to fall back on the cards. Like, for you the discs were something to you when you were alive as well. I didn’t give a shit about cards until Limbo and I don’t want them to… it might sound weird, but I don’t want them to mean something to me.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no, I like playing cards with you, Tommy,” Wilbur says quickly. “But what I like about it is just doing something with you. The cards aren’t the part that matters and that’s– that’s better, right?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah. I think I know what you mean. I do think… I think I still need the discs in a way. Not like I did before, but I need to know I can still get to them if I want them. Dunno how healthy that is or whatever, but… I dunno,” Tommy mutters. “Better than it was.”

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with using a crutch. I mean, look at me,” Wilbur nods at his unlit cigarette.

“Hah,” Tommy says dryly, tapping his cane on the stone steps. “A crutch.”

A pause, Tommy continuing more carefully, “sometimes I still don’t feel like this is real.”

To an onlooker the thoughts might’ve seem disconnected, games and vices and crutches and questions of reality, but Wilbur followed Tommy’s train of thought exactly. They cling to these things because they need something grounding. “Yeah? Like what?”

“You know,” Tommy nods in the general direction of nothing. “Most of it. All of it. Being here. Being free. Like, sometimes if I think about it too long, I get half convinced this is all a dream or Limbo or something. And one of these days I’m gonna hear his stupid fucking voice say wake up and I’m back in a fucking cell.”

Wilbur nods, understanding. “Oh, yeah, I get you there. Like, I know logically Limbo never had dreams or hallucinations to escape into, unless the vague Ghostbur bits count for anything, but sometimes I think this must be some happy illusion. I try to logic my way out of it, Limbo always being brutally honest was one of its key features, but it doesn’t always beat back the paranoia.”

“Fair. I mean, Limbo not having illusions and shit, that doesn’t really cover my bases. Wouldn’t put it past Dream to do some shady magic shit that makes me hallucinate,” Tommy says bitterly.

“Well, I’m quite sure that I’m real, so if that’s true, we’re in the same illusion together, right?” Wilbur says.

“How’re you so sure I’m real, then?”

“Not exactly a comforting thing to say to an undead, paranoid wreck, you know,” Wilbur gives him a look, amused and maybe a bit concerned.

“Ah, sorry, sorry. I am real, by the way. Sometimes I sort of drift and I’m not totally sure that’s true, but generally speaking,” Tommy knocks on his own head. “Ow. But see? 3D and everything.” Tommy reaches out toward Wilbur’s face to prove his point.

“Oy, get your grubby hands off of me,” Wilbur bats him away.

Tommy nods, satisfied. “Well, there you go. We’re both real. So if it turns out all this shit really is still with Dream or in Limbo, we’re not alone, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur humors him.

“And if somehow it turned out you were still in Limbo alone, I’d never stop until I got you back. Or it would mean I was still with Dream so I’d see you sometimes, right?”

Wilbur nods, taking that one a bit more personally, he goes to reply, before stopping himself. He doesn’t know how to cope with Tommy’s loyalty. Maybe a bit more easily after everything, but it’s still strange. Wilbur goes with the easiest reply. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“For what?”

“Not giving up,” Wilbur is so tender.

Tommy feels as if the air had been pulled from his lungs. “But I did give up,” he says with the intonation of someone whose ribs were being constricted. “I was gonna bury you. After I knew Dream was gone- I hinged all my fucking hope on what that evil, stupid dickhead could do for me. I did give up, Wil. Don’t put that kind of faith on me.”

Wilbur doesn’t take it back, he doesn’t even argue, he just looks at him with a quiet sort of pity. “Say what you like, Tommy. You never gave up.”

“But I did, I fucking told you I did-“

“You said you were gonna bury me.”

“I- What?”

“You were going to give me a grave.”

Tommy stares at him, like he doesn’t know what to make of him. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course we were.”

“Not of course you were. I didn’t get a grave last time, Tommy,” Wilbur says with this slow, intent certainty Tommy finds difficult to challenge. “You were still gonna take care of me. Only way left. That’s what normally happens when someone dies. When resurrection isn’t an option, because it shouldn’t be an option, that's how you take care of the dead. That is not you giving up on me, Tommy. I know you’d never do that. You were going to keep living.”

Tommy laughs a little weakly, “was I?”

Wilbur shrugs, “that’s more your area of expertise, but in those last months of Limbo, I never felt you growing closer. Not after that last time.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Cool?” Wilbur gives him a look, eyebrows raised.

“What d’you want me to say to your magic death sensing powers from beyond the grave?” Tommy says with sarcastic melodrama.

“Right, fair,” Wilbur laughs. “You might want to turn in soon. I’ll probably try to get some sleep too. Promise.”

Tommy nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I also don’t mind staying up,” Wilbur continues. “Pretty sure I’ve got insomnia at this point.”

Tommy gives him a reproachful look. “You said you were sleeping sometimes.”

“Yeah. Sometimes,” Wilbur teases. “Go on, then. What’s banging around that empty skull of yours?”

“Oy!” Tommy pouts. “I’m a fucking genius and you know it!”

“Hmm I think genius might be a stretch,” Wilbur says with the air of a big brother who knows just the right buttons to press.

“Oh yeah, sure. Mr. Big Brains over here doesn’t even know how to sleep. Psh,” Tommy scoffs.

“I mean, I do know how to sleep.”

“Oh yeah, then why aren’t you?”

Wilbur grins, “I actually don’t have a counter point to that one. Maybe you’re right. I just don’t know how to sleep.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m Tommyinnit, I’m always right.”

“And humble too.”

“We already did this bit. Yeah, and humble too,” Tommy says patronizingly, like Wilbur is being stupid.

Wilbur laughs. Tommy fucking loves it when he makes Wilbur laugh like that.

“So, you wanna tell me why you aren’t sleeping then, oh wise Tommyinnit, genius of all things?” Wilbur says teasingly.

Tommy frowns. “Aw, why’d you have to ruin it and go back to the boring stuff?” He whines.

“Does boring just mean something you don’t want to talk about?”

“Obviously. Why would I wanna talk about something boring?” Tommy rolls his eyes.

Wilbur gives him another moment to continue on his own. Then he pushes. “Is it the nightmare? Still haven’t quite gotten rid of the cobwebs?”

Tommy’s gloom grows more blatant, shoulders hunched inward. “Yeah, cobwebs. He is like a little fuckin’ spider, inne? Just crawlin’ around in the corner so I can’t shake him out…”

Wilbur’s amusement fades. “Still feels like that, does it? That stuck?”

“Well,” Tommy grimaces, mulling it over. “Kind of? And also not? Some days I don’t think about him at all. But like. Objectively, Dream still scares me and I know he’s never gonna hurt me again. And those two things don’t somehow cancel out. But… maybe that’s okay. Because I do know Dream can’t hurt me, and me remembering the fear, I like that better to thinking Dream was my friend and shit. And I like that I can like something better and have it go my way, yeah?”

Wilbur nods. “I guess that makes sense. I remember getting caught up in the details in Limbo in a sort of similar way. Not the friend part, but the… the thinking it was something it wasn’t? Just trying to figure out why I was like that. Why being dead was like that.”

“Ever find any answers?”

Wilbur laughs bitterly. “No.” A pause. Wilbur has a question he doesn’t know if he should ask. “Now, I know his logic means absolutely nothing. It’s not justifiable or logical or anything near fucking human, but…”

“What?” Tommy pushes when Wilbur’s rambling trails off.

“Do you ever think about why he did it?”

Tommy goes quiet and Wilbur immediately regrets it.

“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have, I dunno why I asked anyway–”

“No, it’s… it’s a fair question,” Tommy says maybe too mildly. “I’ve thought about it, obviously. Somewhat then, but not really. Back then it was more of the same shit, ‘it’s probably my fault I should just keep my head down bla bla this is probably what’s best, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,’ you know,” Tommy waves it off dismissively. “And now that I know that’s all bullshit, I guess…” Tommy knows this isn’t the answer that will make Wilbur feel better, but Tommy doesn’t really care. “Tubbo thinks– and, well. He’s probably right. Dream said he wanted to be immortal. Tubbo thinks he…” Tommy stops and Wilbur notes he doesn’t actually looks upset, rather just disapproving. “Must’ve done it for fun,” Tommy shrugs.

Wilbur yet again thinks he really shouldn’t have fucking asked. “Fucking christ, man, I am–”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m gonna punt you into the sun.”

“S-so… uh. Okay, I don’t have a smooth recovery from that one,” Wilbur’s shoulders hunch inward, a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Tommy scoffs. “Well, since you have asked. I also think… it’s better, that there wasn’t some grand reason. For Dream or cosmically or whatever the fuck. I don’t think anything could’ve justified what he did, but… I’m glad there’s nothing to try, yeah? Like, no one’s trying to put a bow around my trauma so it’s wrapped up all neat and other people can pretend that makes it manageable when I’m the one whose finger gets caught in the ribbon.”

“You– what?”

“You know,” Tommy gestures to his one good index finger. “When you… when you tie a bow and shit and you accidentally tie your finger in it.”

“...Right,” Wilbur pretends he follows.

“And, I know this– Okay, this isn’t me justifying shit, so, don’t try to fucking therapize me,” Tommy says warningly. “But if I have to ask myself what it was what for and shit, well. I’m glad I got to keep you,” Tommy leaves no room for argument, eyebrows furrowed together, somehow looking so much older and also exactly his age.

“Tommy…”

“Don’t you try it, man. I’m serious. This isn’t me finding a fucking silver lining or some shit. Nothing about it was good for me. For either of us, but– but, if it weren’t for all of this horrible– horrible shit, you’d still be dead. So. Maybe by a fucking fluke, it cleaned up your…” Now Tommy falters, unsure of how to put it. Your mess just seems cruel.

“My mistake,” Wilbur finishes for him, so sure and understanding it’s almost like another apology. This one Tommy won’t protest. Wilbur sighs, leaning back against the cool stone steps, not caring as it digs into his back. “I’ll… I’ll let that all fall into place, okay? It was a mistake. And this somehow undid that mistake. And that doesn’t justify what happened to you, but…” Wilbur looks at Tommy, dark eyes with something like a storm stirring behind them, but it’s not the kind of storm that leaves Tommy fearing a lightning strike. “If you want me here, I should be here.”

Tommy smiles, calmed and maybe a little proud. “Good.”

Wilbur hesitates, mulling something over in his head, he sits up again, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay. This is… probably not constructive, but I keep on getting caught up thinking… well, okay. First off, me being here at all, getting the chance to live again feels like something lucky. So it feels a bit shit to complain, and stop me if me roping you into this isn’t fair, but,” Wilbur pauses, still staring out at New L’Manberg. “We’re never going to get properly all the way better.”

“Real genius, you are,” Tommy says dryly.

“I know, I know, stating the obvious,” Wilbur brushes him off.

“No, no, well, I mean, yeah, but really half-assing it is what you’re doing,” Tommy says scoldingly. “You think I haven't had the same fucking stupid thought forever now? Nah. You’re right, we are never going to be properly all the way better. Not gonna be who we were before. Think that bit is pretty typical, though. I mean, you’re not still a baby.” Tommy points out. He sighs, but without weight, rather put at ease. “But as for us, I’d argue we’re never going to stop getting better, eh? And when we slide backwards and shit gets rough, that’s just more getting better-ing that we’ve got to get doing.”

Not for the first time, nor will it be the last time, Tommy has stumped him with something so simply and genuinely profound. Wilbur stares at him and Tommy doesn’t know what to do with his brother looking so amazed.

“What?” Tommy says defensively.

“When’d you get to be such an optimist?”

“Um, fucking always?” Tommy scoffs. “You think I could’ve survived all this shit, any of it, if I weren’t an optimist?”

“Guess not,” Wilbur is still staring at him. Maybe he should’ve known better. Tommy has never given up before. “You’ve grown.”

Tommy stares back, unwavering. So much weight behind two simple words. “That’s what happens when you keep living.”

Wilbur expects this, finally breaking away and looking back into the dark. He’d been prepared for something painful; why else would he have said it again?

Tommy continues, “so have you.”

“What?” Wilbur looks back at him, his first thought being he's misunderstood, but of course he hasn't. His expression softens and that instinctive bitterness Wilbur has fought so hard against is washed away by Tommy so easily.

"Come on, don’t look at me like I just asked you to the fucking ball, I mean it,” Tommy breaks the tension in that typical way of his. “I mean it. So have you.” Unspoken, because you kept living.

“I can try not to be sappy, but…” Wilbur makes a decision. Not an easy one, but it comes to him as naturally as breathing. He decides to believe him. “I’m glad I’ve grown.”

Tommy smiles, proud of them both. “Yeah, me too.”

It’s cooler out the deeper the night has wore on. It’s nice. Helps Tommy clear his head a bit. This close to New L’Manberg’s lanterns he can’t really make out many stars, but the view is pretty either way.

“You know, not gonna lie, New L’Manberg is probably prettier than the OG,” Tommy admits.

“Really?” Wilbur glances at him, surprised. “Even with the crater?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s prettier because we had to make more of it. To make up for the,” Tommy gestures in the general direction of the crater, whose waters glisten in the light of the lanterns, but their depths remain dark. In the day it will look far more alive, but for now it’s just a reflection of what they’ve built above it.

“I’m proud of you all. For doing this. I should tell Tubbo that too,” Wilbur says, looking back to the wooden houses, the city on stilts. “You all made something new. And… okay, I stand by what I said on the 16th.”

“What?” Tommy is puzzled, giving him a worried look.

“Bear with me here,” Wilbur knocks shoulders with him gently. “I said L’Manberg could never be what it once was. That I think is still true. But in other ways, you and Tubbo and all the rest beautifully proved me wrong. The world is not better off without L’Manberg. In some form.”

Tommy feels a warmth growing brighter in his chest. He hadn’t realized he needed to hear Wilbur say that until he said it. “Just like the world isn’t better off without you. Right?”

Wilbur laughs softly, eyes already shining. He’d just barely kept it together so far, and here Tommy goes and makes it impossible for him to hate himself. Not on a night like this. I’ve grown. The thought persists, not a fire burning in his chest, it’s a relief, the calm after the storm. “Don’t say that, I’ll cry.”

“Then cry, bitch. I won’t take it back,” Tommy teases him. “And come on, it makes sense. L’Manberg didn’t stay dead and neither did we. Might be too good a metaphor, actually,” Tommy sighs, almost wistful. “Never gonna be the same, but still here. Just… on stilts,” Tommy taps his cane on the stairs again, both to emphasize his point and just something to do with that restlessness still ill contained inside of him.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Wilbur stands, stretching until his bones crack loud enough to make Tommy wince.

“Yeah,” Tommy stands as well. He pauses, staring toward the prime path, but he doesn’t leave.

“You wanna crash here tonight?” Wilbur says before he can walk away.

“In your little shithole? Where?” Tommy tries to stay aloof, but he hasn’t said no.

Wilbur shrugs. “You take the bed. I’m a big boy, I can sleep on the floor for one night.”

“Old man, more like it,” Tommy scoffs, but he follows Wilbur into the camarvan. “I don’t think your bones can take it. I can take the floor. Not like it’s obsidian.”

“No, no you don’t do that, especially not saying ominous stuff like that. You let me be the super generous and cool big brother and take the bed,” Wilbur tries to be stubborn. He’s lost his touch.

Tommy gives him a look before dragging Wilbur’s mattress off the wooden frame and onto the floor. Wilbur stares, far too tired for this and baffled. “So. Who’s sleeping on the floor now?”

“We both are, dipshit. We’ll lay on it on the short side, so. Our legs will be on the floor, I guess, but it’s fair,” Tommy is far too proud of himself.

“Right. So neither of us sleep well.”

“We don’t sleep well already,” Tommy says pointedly.

“Fine. Now shut up and go to sleep,” Wilbur doesn’t even bother taking off his coat or grabbing a blanket.

“You’re like a fucking animal. Do you ever change out of that coat?” Tommy rolls his eyes, laying down across from him.

“Shush. Sleep,” Wilbur mutters.

Tommy doesn’t sleep just yet, he finally gets settled, but a slow dawning thought takes up space instead of rest. Tommy stares at the roof of the camarvan. At the blue tinted skylight. It really is a perfect copy.

“You… you remember this, yeah?” Tommy says a little hoarsely now.

“What’re you talking about, man?” Wilbur groans, burying his face in his pillow.

Tommy reaches out and hits Wilbur’s arm. “You know. But… we’d only sleep in here when it rained because it got too crowded.”

Wilbur rolls over, following his gaze to the skylight. He understands.

“The table was in the middle then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me and Tubbo were squished between the table and the counters with the brewing stands on…” Tommy lifts his head up, “on that side, right? And you always slept up front. And… and…” Tommy sits up now. “Eret slept by the back wall. And Fundy took the other side. And… I guess me and Tubbo didn’t need to sleep next to each other, one of us could’ve gone up on the other side of the table, but we… I dunno, we didn’t,” Tommy flops back down. “By the time… after the war when we had Niki and Jack we also had more places to stay, so. We didn’t get that with them so much. But… you know. You remember,” Tommy almost says it like a question.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Wilbur says quietly. He remembers sitting in the front seat, and that early he did sleep some, instead of staying awake wondering how they would all survive. Before the war really began, when he was still radiant with hope.

“That was good,” Tommy says. It’s so simple, those three words, but Wilbur feels the weight of them, a gentle ache in his chest.

“Yeah, it was.”

Tommy smiles softly, he knows he’s changed and so has everything else, but at least he can still look up at that skylight, and remember looking at those same stars. Nostalgia is a kindness again, even if it cannot be untied fully from grief. He knows Wilbur is still staring at him, understanding him even.

“Go to sleep, man,” Tommy rolls over away from him.

They sleep until after dawn. Tommy doesn’t have another nightmare.

Tubbo and Ranboo go by Tommy’s house near noon, but he isn’t there.

“Huh,” Ranboo shrugs. “Maybe he went on ahead?”

“Yeah, probably.” Tubbo feels a quiet undercurrent of relief, barely a thing of note, that Tommy not being where he’s expected to be is no longer a thing of terror, and instead a wonderfully meaningless one.

They’re approaching New L’Manberg still without sign of Tommy, but Wilbur is awake, sitting outside the Camarvan.

“Hey, Wilbur– you seen Tommy?” Tubbo calls ahead.

“Yep,” Wilbur jabs his thumb over his shoulder back toward his home. “That kid could sleep for a week, I swear.”

“He slept over here?” Ranboo asks.

“Nightmare?” Tubbo cuts in.

“Yeah, you know how it is. Slept better once he got here, though. Do you want me to grab him?” Wilbur stands, stretching, his knees cracking.

“Nah, we’ve got him,” Tubbo steps up, pushing past Wilbur and into his home like he owns the place, Ranboo following a bit more apologetically. Tommy is barely on the mattress laid out on the floor, his head hanging off of it, mouth open as he sleeps. He’s back to his old ways, Tubbo notes. A blanket hog taking up as much room as possible. Perfect. “Tommy?” Tubbo announces himself first, before gently nudging Tommy’s shoulder. He knows how this goes by now, he has to announce himself first, and Tommy might still jump and you do not under any circumstances say wake up. A muffled noise of discontent comes from underneath the blankets, Tommy’s half visible face scowling, eyes shut tight. “Come on, bossman, you’ve already slept half the day away.”

A hand emerges only to halfheartedly swat Tubbo away like an annoying fly. Tubbo steps back before Tommy can accidentally slap him.

“It would be too mean to take him down to the docks and throw him in, yeah?” Tubbo whispers.

“Uh. Yes. Unless your goal is to actually terrorize him,” Ranboo replies dryly.

“Hm. Maybe not terrorize. Just annoy,” Tubbo says thoughtfully. Tubbo thinks over the odds of Tommy swinging a knife at them if he’s startled. They’re relatively high, but the odds of Tommy actually stabbing one of them are a bit lower.

Tubbo has a water bucket.

“You’re not gonna..?” Ranboo is more reluctant.

“No, I’m not gonna dump it on him,” Tubbo whispers back. “Just…” Tubbo gets his hand wet, stepping up beside Tommy, flicking off the water onto his face.

Tommy makes a noise somewhere between confusion and outrage, sitting up sharply and almost smacking his head against Tubbo’s.

“Did you just spit on me?!” Tommy shouts.

“No! No, I did not!” Tubbo is torn between defending himself and laughing.

“No– No you just spit on me! My face is all wet– fucking gross, man!” Tommy whines.

“It’s water, Tommy! It’s just water,” Tubbo’s efforts to bury a laugh grow weaker.

“You’re laughing? You laughing at me?” Tommy tackles Tubbo, the bucket of water flooding Wilbur’s home.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tubbo wheezes without an ounce of guilt.

“Come on, guys, just– oh no–” Ranboo jumps up onto the counter before the water can reach him. This was supposed to be a relaxing day where he wouldn’t need armor.

“What the fuck are you all doing to my house?” Wilbur ducks back inside. He stares forlornly at the now drenched mattress on the floor. “Oh. Oh this sucks. Look– Look, you guys got the Enderman up on the counter like a fucking cat– you ruined my bed, so how about you all take this outside?”

Tommy and Tubbo stop, limbs tangled together, Tubbo with Tommy half in a headlock and Tommy definitely about to bite down on Tubbo’s arm.

“Actually, Tubs, could you– Not around my neck, don’t– don’t–” Tommy feels a flicker of panic, tapping against Tubbo’s arm rapidly, who immediately lets go. “J-Just not trapped– I can’t–”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Tommy.”

Tommy calms easily enough, the two of them still falling over each other on Wilbur’s now soaked floors.

“Fucking christ– Just– Just–” Wilbur sighs. “Drag this shit out into the sun so maybe I’ll get some actual sleep tonight, yeah?”

They exchange a look, staring from Ranboo crouched on the counter very much like a cat to each other and their soaked clothes. They collapse into giggly hysterics for reasons somehow only known between the two of them.

Wilbur scowls. “I’m never letting you stay over again.”

“Aw, you don’t mean it,” Tommy scrambles to his feet. “Come on, Wilby–”

“Wilby!” Wilbur’s irritation sharply becomes vicious delight. “You did it!”

“What?! What, no– No, I didn’t–”

“You called me Wilby again! You did!” Wilbur cackles.

“I did not!” Tommy chases him outside.

“It was a puddle, Ranboo. You’re wearing flipflops. You would’ve been fine,” Tubbo teases him.

“I would not, flipflops are barely shoes!” Ranboo pouts.

“Do you want me to carry you safely away from the terrible flood, Ranboo,” Tubbo says with mocking sympathy.

“As if you could,” Ranboo scoffs.

Tubbo gives a look of perfectly calm innocence.

“You…” Ranboo stares at him. “Whoa– Hold on– waitwaitwait– put me down, oh my god, put me down!”

“Nope! Not until you’re safe and far away from the water. You’re not getting hurt on my watch!” Tubbo says smartly, Ranboo helplessly thrown over his shoulder and so tall it’s a miracle they haven’t both fallen over.

“Okay, okay, we’re outside, we’re away from the water, you can put me down–”

“But surely we should get to higher ground first! The ground could be damp!”

“Oh, you are sooo gonna pay for this,” Ranboo grumbles.

“Am I really?”

“Yep,” and with that, Ranboo makes sure they both fall over, throwing his weight to the side and taking Tubbo down with him.

“Ow,” Tubbo lies flat on his back. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m mean!” Ranboo laughs, clambering off the ground.

“Yeah. So mean,” Tubbo lays an arm across his eyes, full of self pity.

“What’d you do to Tubbo?” Tommy stops his efforts, throwing Wilbur’s mattress onto the grass.

“Just on the ground?!” Wilbur blusters.

“Where the fuck do you want it, then?!” Tommy shouts back.

“On the– On the wood or something, not in the mud!” Wilbur snaps, grabbing the mattress, hauling it much more pathetically onto the wooden platforms.

“Quit your nagging old man, we’ve got important shit to do,” Tommy leaves him. “Come on, Tubbo, you’re not tired already, are you?” He grabs Tubbo’s arm and tugs him off the ground. Now they head toward their original destination over the hill.

They take off shoes and socks and Tommy lays his still bloodstained green bandana beside Tubbo’s faded and frayed red one and Ranboo stays fully clothed, albeit not in armor, intending on getting some sun and reading or some other boring shit that Tommy has no interest in, if not he’ll go bother Wilbur or Phil or something. Ranboo is definitely not suited for Tommy and Tubbo’s plans for the day. The three of them stroll down the dock and Tubbo and Tommy both keep Ranboo between them so he isn’t anywhere near the edge of the water.

Tommy had agreed to this. They were in the height of summer heat now and at the time it had sounded like a good idea. The water in the crater underneath New L’Manberg was too still, it was more occupied by fish, but out in the cove around the docks the water is clear and cool, stirred by waves.

The thing is, in recent memory Tommy hasn’t had the best time swimming. Especially not in salt water. If he thinks about it too hard, he can already taste it, the burn, the weight of it filling his throat when all he wants is air.

He’s had happy memories swimming too. One’s that he can recall untainted, because it hadn’t been salt water. It had been rivers and lakes and easy days, their L’Manberg coats left to dry on a rock as Tommy and Tubbo tried to get Fundy to join them.

It all comes back to the salt.

“You know, we don’t have to jump in. We can go around the pier, to the sand, you know,” Tubbo sees him staring over the edge, transfixed, and he tries.

“Okay, bitch, feel free. Don’t forget a fuckin’ pool noodle too,” Tommy says haughtily.

“Oh yeah? Jump in, then,” Tubbo teases him.

“From here?” Tommy scoffs. “Nah– I’m jumping off from the top and I’ll beat you there,” Tommy pushes him lightly, just enough to make Tubbo yelp as he teeters a bit closer to the edge, but by then Tommy is sprinting toward the wooden platforms built up over the water. He doesn’t notice that his leg doesn’t hurt, and that is its own victory. The absence of pain is no longer a surprise. He still has his bad days, it requires constant maintenance with physical therapy or his progress just disappears, and long trips he keeps his cane close, but he no longer expects it to always hurt. That’s more than enough.

He can hear Tubbo right behind him and now the sound of footsteps at his heels does not send sparks of terror through him. He knows Tubbo’s footsteps as well as his own. Tommy stops sharply, three storeys up, the sky is so big and so blue and it touches the water so easily there is only a thin line between above and below and it’s all so big, but Tommy isn’t scared of it. He looks down. The waves are gentle, still, it’s quite the drop.

“Look,” Tubbo pants, catching his breath. “I’ll jump if you do.”

“Yeah?” Tommy doesn’t look at him, only straight down at the sea.

“Yeah.”

Tommy can’t bury a smirk, crooked delight overtaking him for reasons he can’t quite name. “Countdown?”

“Ten,” Tubbo steps up beside him, their shoulders touching. “Nine.” Tommy steps up even closer to the edge, his toes over open air before he steps back again. Not yet. “Eight.” Tubbo sounds a little nervous. Tommy doesn’t tease him for it. “Seven.” Tommy feels like there’s just a spark of lightning inside of him, he is remembering when a touch of adrenaline meant fun. “Six.” He’s ready. “Five.” Tommy isn’t wearing his goggles, and the sun is still too bright, but he’ll manage knowing he can block it out if needed. “Five– Wait, fuck–”

Tommy laughs, barking and sharp. “Four, Tubso.”

“Right,” Tubbo laughs, a giggle almost under his breath. Tommy glances up from the water over at him. Tubbo is young. He is eighteen years old. He looks it too, scars and all. Tommy must look seventeen, scars and all. Tommy is seventeen years old and the days will pass as days and nothing more until he will turn eighteen, and then he’ll keep going. Time is no longer something that can be stolen or pulled apart or bottled. He’s quite alright with that. “Three, two, one.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate when he steps off this ledge, and maybe it was naive of him not to realize the parallels he was drawing, but the comparison feels so feeble now. Falling doesn’t feel like dying anymore. Tommy is in freefall, he shouts his joy into the wind tugging past and the water rushes up to meet him, catching him none too gently, the bottom of his feet sting and the taste of salt is overwhelming, he’s sinking through the water and this pace is familiar, this sluggish gravity hints at limbo but any comparison stops there. Here there is still dappled sunlight pressing against his closed eyes and there’s water annoyingly in his nose and it’s not silent. Not silent by a longshot with the easy current stirring against his skin, just like it isn’t empty. Tommy is back in a beautifully mortal sea, but he doesn’t drown. He breaks the surface and breathes.

He’s with Tubbo again and it’s summer. Tommy feels alive.

Wilbur still has a hard time knowing what to do with himself, especially when he can’t follow Tommy around. And without Tommy around to tell him off, he does end up smoking more when he’s alone.

Although, he’s not always alone.

“Light?” Quackity, at least to Wilbur’s often distracted mind, seemed to almost appear beside him.

“W-What?” Wilbur stares at him.

Quackity raises an eyebrow, taking the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, glancing to Wilbur’s own lit one. “I uh, I was wondering if I could borrow a light?”

“A–? Oh! Oh, yeah,” Wilbur fumbles in his coat pocket.

Quackity still looks curiously amused as Wilbur lights the cigarette. “Still wearing that thing, are you?” He says as Wilbur shoves the lighter back in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“That coat, man. It was kinda gross before the… everything that happened after Pogtopia, and now…” Quackity grimaces sympathetically. “Could use a wardrobe change,” he turns half away, looking over New L’Manberg.

Wilbur’s current favorite smoking spot is up on the hillside, in the shade perhaps too close to Ghostbur’s sewers. Wilbur hasn’t gone back there– or, he supposes, in this state of being, in this living body, gone to the sewer for the first time. But there’s something peaceful about being up here. He can look out over New L’Manberg in its entirety. Things have changed so much around here that Wilbur almost forgets not too far from here is where he first tried to end things. Tried. It no longer counts as a successful attempt, not really in the long run. Good.

This coat still has a hole in the back. The exit wound of a sword outlined in tatters.

“Yeah. I probably should,” Wilbur admits. The coat is comforting, somehow. It’s heavy, the material soft from being so heavily worn, but stiff and sturdy in ways that, if Wilbur really thinks about it, probably has to do with how disgusting the coat probably is from old blood and dirt. “I like having all the pockets,” is the feeble excuse Wilbur settles on.

Quackity laughs in that dry, charming way of his. “You can get another coat with pockets.”

“Touché.”

They haven’t really talked since Wilbur became alive again. Wilbur knows he must have at least seen Quackity in all that time, the guy has hung around often enough, kept New L’Manberg together. Although, New L’Manberg hardly needed a leader, or even a government, when everyone who had tried to destroy them was either gone or had grown up, Quackity and Sapnap being prime examples, but he still seemed to want to check in.

Wilbur attempts to catch up. “How are Karl and Sapnap?”

“Good, you know, they’re good,” Quackity says with a temperamental level of authenticity, nodding. Quackity gestures with his cigarette vaguely. “Sapnap…” He takes a drag, exhaling too heavily, Wilbur waits while he clears his throat. “He’s still kinda… trying to make sense of it all. In a way, we all are. But especially for him. I mean, he was his best friend. Feels like a lifetime ago, but I guess not for him. And it’s not like he’s conflicted or some shit, it’s just, he thought he knew him and he turned out to be a fucking monster. That takes some processing,” Quackity shrugs, Wilbur hums in agreement. “And Karl is…” Quackity trails off, clearly lost in a deep thought that Wilbur is not necessarily privy to. “He’s got us both a little worried, but we’re all trying to figure it out together.” A weighted pause, Quackity returning to some old conviction kept close to his chest. “We’re making it up as we go, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur follows his gaze back out to his former city-state. From here, he can’t see them, but he knows Tommy and Tubbo are just over the hillside. Ranboo has returned to the main platforms of New L’Manberg and is chatting with Phil. “I think that’s all any of us are doing, really.”

“Yeah,” Quackity agrees, still musing. “Just a couple of fuck ups doing our best, right?” He sighs, not bitterly, but almost content.

It’s been a long time. For Wilbur, at least, it’s been a long time, but he hasn’t forgotten everything. He and Quackity, they’d understood each other in a particularly ugly, vicious way. And it looks like they’ve both pushed past that ugliness, but Wilbur knows, at least for himself, some parts of that stayed and will probably always stay.

“So, do you talk to them? To Karl and Sapnap.”

“Talk to them? I mean, obviously. What’d you mean?” Quackity is cautious in an instant, sensing Wilbur’s shift to something a little past smalltalk, and Wilbur knows if he wants anything from the man he’ll have to show some weakness and offer up part of himself first.

“I mean, I’ve tried. I’ve talked some. With my own family, you know, Tommy, Phil, all them,” Wilbur talks like he’s pulling teeth, he would know. “It’s hard. You said it, we’re both fuck ups, and at least for me, that means the… the shitty things I’ve done, yeah? And…” Wilbur doesn’t know how he’s doing this. Being vulnerable in his first chat with former-friend, former-rival, former- something, Quackity HQ. “Even dead, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tommy how fucked up I was. Even when it was pretty clear Tommy already knew. But I’m trying, yeah? And… I think you might understand some of that.”

Quackity looks genuinely surprised, even startled. “Y-Yeah, I… I think I know what you mean.” This is different from miserably rubbing elbows with dry sarcasm about whatever is wrong with the two of them. Quackity knew Wilbur came back different, but this was… well, Quackity had admired Wilbur a long time ago for reasons as far from this as they could get, but maybe for a moment, maybe for longer than a moment, Quackity admires Wilbur again, for something Quackity is only just learning to appreciate himself. Wilbur is trying. And yes, they’d just been over that, they’re fucked up and they’re making it up as they go, but it’s not just for their families. Wilbur is trying for himself as well.

Maybe Quackity should elaborate, explain his own side of whatever this is, but instead he just stares over the hillside and says a soft, “huh,” of understanding.

Quackity is hard for Wilbur to read now. He doesn’t remember him being this way, then again, maybe Wilbur had been younger and more inclined to make assumptions than actually try to figure out what Quackity was thinking. Quackity has grown too, and is more inclined to tell him what he’s thinking, and to give Wilbur something kind enough to take his breath away again. “You know, I think it’s really good you’re back. That’s probably… a kinda redundant thing to say,” he laughs, half under his breath, still not looking at him, like he hasn’t just handed Wilbur something precious. “And I dunno if they still need us, if you know what I mean, but I think they should still have us, you know?”

Maybe Wilbur shouldn’t be able to follow such a vague train of thought, but he does. He isn’t sure how he’s going to manage Quackity being happy to have him back, so he’ll deal with what he can manage.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says.

Now Quackity looks at him, puzzled. “For what?”

“For taking care of them,” Wilbur explains, soft and almost apologetic. He doesn’t know if there are the words to properly tell Quackity how grateful he is. “I was gone, and– and you took care of them.”

Quackity almost winces. “Maybe don’t thank me, alright? Did a pretty shit job of it, though, considering.”

“I don’t give a shit how good you were at it. You were there, weren’t you?” Wilbur says more fiercely now, and with it, unspoken, and I wasn’t.

Yet again, Quackity knows exactly what’s unsaid, on whatever peculiar shared wavelength they’ve always had over the years, staring at Wilbur with wide eyes. The pause extends, heavy between them. Quackity breaks the stare. He nods. “Yeah. Well, if that’s all it takes to make the grade nowadays, you’re here now. Thanks for coming back,” he smirks, like they share an inside joke.

Wilbur laughs even if he doesn’t quite know why. “Any time.”

They both know they shouldn’t, but they keep smoking, and maybe it’s a little less pathetic with company.

Tommy had forgotten that exhaustion could be peaceful. Late afternoon, they’ve left the water behind, instead finding a place in the sun in New L’Manberg to sit wrapped up in towels.

“I’ve been thinking of some shit,” is how Tommy begins.

“Good for you, man. That sounds hard,” Tubbo teases him.

“Fuck off,” Tommy’s retort is almost instinctive nowadays. He continues, “I’ve been thinking about doing something.”

“Okay, that’s terrifyingly vague,” Ranboo raises an eyebrow.

Tommy looks at both of them. A very old friend and a far newer one who had helped to save him. He had told Tubbo and Ranboo that he didn’t know how to choose for himself anymore. He didn’t know what to do with himself, because he’s not used to anything like free will. Tommy knows what he wants to do. Maybe it’s a foolish thing, a desperate ignorance, even something childish. Tommy is stubbornly proud of his ability to want something that might be unreasonable.

It isn’t easy, Tommy trying to explain, but Ranboo and Tubbo listen all the same. “I want to do something. We’ve got… I’m here now. And I want to… I dunno. Have an event that doesn’t end bloody. Kind of to… to thank everyone for all the shit they’ve done, but also for…” Tommy forces the words out, they feel like such a delicate thing. “For L’Manberg.”

“Yeah?” Tubbo’s voice softens, but he understands.

“I want it to be all of us,” Tommy says.

“Who’s all? That’s also a bit vague.”

“Well, at first I thought just the originals, but that felt unfair, you know? Like, Niki and Jack are obvious. But even then, there’s more to it, yeah? No offense, Ranboo.”

“Nah, fair enough,” he shrugs.

“I get what you mean,” Tubbo considers this carefully. “There are a lot of people who helped us, but who weren’t there. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I think them too. Which… sot of defeats the purpose of a thing for L’Manberg, but even if they weren’t there there, they were still there, yeah?” Tommy offers as explanation. “And it’s not a festival or some shit,” Tommy says quickly. “I don’t think we should have another one of them. It’s more just…” Tommy doesn’t know how to describe what he wants. What he really wants is a return to the old days, sitting around a campfire with people he trusted with his life, eating the same food, singing a new anthem. He knows it won’t be that. He just wants something, even if he can’t fully describe what. “We just need a reason.”

Wilbur doesn’t know how he got here, but he feels incredibly lucky.

Tommy wanted everyone and they would have everyone, but he also wanted it to be them first.

That is how Wilbur found himself sitting on the floor of his Camarvan, Tommy and Tubbo chatting away, sitting on top of the counter right behind him, Tommy as always talking the loudest, and Fundy and Eret familiar with learning to have their own conversation around him. Jack looks somewhat bored, sitting cross legged across from Niki, holding a mirror as she puts on makeup.

Wilbur wasn’t sure whose idea the dress code was, but it had been decided everyone would dress for a party. Not fancy necessarily, the goal was more meant to be fun.

Wilbur has on a clean white button up on, faded to grey, striped with pale pink. He’s also wearing a long brown coat. A new long brown coat. Quackity had turned up with it, it wasn’t a gift, wrapped up and offered with a card, it wasn’t even a favor. Quackity had just shrugged and handed it to him and said “If you want to keep wearing that nasty old coat, fine. But you can’t say I didn’t try.”

Wilbur still has that nasty old coat, buried in a chest somewhere. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. The thought was like tearing off a limb. The one Quackity had given him wasn’t identical, but it was close enough that Wilbur could find comfort in it. Maybe it helps that there isn’t a hole in the back, a constant reminder of an old exit wound. It’s summer, no one is wearing a coat. Out of the sun, Wilbur finds a way to be cold no matter what. The coat helps.

Maybe his attire isn’t as put together as Jack’s blazer, and definitely not as fancy as Eret in a gown, but it’s all clean, not a stain or hole in it, and that’s as fancy as Wilbur gets nowadays. Even Tommy had cleaned up, in his own Tommy-ish way. That being he’s wearing a white button up underneath his usual red and white shirt and has a green bowtie on as well, Tubbo following his lead with his usual green shirt buttoned up correctly and a red bowtie to match Tommy’s.

Wilbur only half attempts to tune into the conversations. A decade ago, or a bit over a year ago maybe, he’d always had something to say. He’s still not used to conversation being an option, but it’s okay to just listen. He does notice the way they’ve fractured off. Tubbo and Tommy together of course, always, but Eret and Fundy have chosen their corner even if they don’t seem especially at ease with one another, just like Niki has dragged Jack aside with far more certainty. They’re all together, but Wilbur sees the lines in the sand of things still left changed. Even this lot is a fracture of history. Eret being here maybe should seem wrong, but Niki and Jack don’t really know to feel that wrongness, and if Eret wasn’t meant to be here, Wilbur most definitely wasn’t. If the lines get any blurrier, they should get Quackity and Ranboo back here as well, maybe even Phil. They’ll come eventually. This feels like a good start.

“Good?” Niki sits up, looking at Jack.

“Yeah. I like the colors,” Jack says with halfhearted interest. “Can I put the mirror away now?”

“Yes–” Niki seems to reconsider. “If you let me put eyeshadow on you.”

Jack stares at her, reproachful. “Will this take another twenty minutes?”

“I will just use red and blue. Like your glasses, okay?” Niki teases him, lightly punching his arm. “And it did not take twenty minutes.”

Jack shrugs, “I don’t care, but dunno what’s the point if it’s behind my glasses.”

“The point is fun, Jack, if you might recall,” Eret joins in.

“Yeah! It doesn’t have to be just regular makeup,” Niki sifts through her bag. “Actually, I have a bunch of old facepaint– I could paint something on your face as well, if you want?”

“Could you draw a bee on my face, Niki?” Tubbo perks up.

Niki laughs, endeared, “sure, Tubbo.”

“Yeah, alright, then– I dunno what you’d draw on me,” Jack shrugs. “Do what you like. My handsome face will be your canvas.”

“Good,” Niki nods smartly, scooting closer and leaning against him. “Now, close your eyes. And can you can you sit still?”

“I can’t if you’re gonna knock me over,” Jack grumbles.

“You can sit up for a few more minutes, Jack, I’m already done with the eyes,” Niki teases him, digging out something else from her bag.

Tubbo hops off the counter, sitting behind them, watching her work over her shoulder. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Niki’s right side is toward the back wall, so the rest of them can’t see what she’s painting on Jack’s cheek. Tommy hops down as well, “I want to see.”

“Just wait a second, I just started,” Niki rolls her eyes with little actual irritation.

“You should draw a dick on his face,” Tommy offers wisely.

“Who says I’m not?” Niki shrugs, much to Tommy’s delight and Jack’s chagrin.

“Niki, please,” Jack says with genuine desperation.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Niki says mildly.

“Oh, I see!” Tubbo says brightly. “That’s lovely! Could you do that on mine as well?”

“What, you want a dick drawn on your cheek, Tubso?” Tommy makes himself look scandalized.

“Sure, Tubbo. And if you’re not careful, Tommy, don’t think I’m above painting that on your cheek,” Niki is all mischief now.

“No, no I want to match Tubbo,” Tommy says quickly. “And Jack Manifold too, I guess.”

“What is it? You’re making me curious now too,” Fundy hops past Jack to join the rest of them.

“It’s getting too crowded,” Niki gives them all a look, making the three boys scoot back.

Fundy winces. “Oh, no, Jack…” He sighs. “I can’t believe you let her paint that on your face.”

“What?!” Now Jack is panicked, scrambling for the mirror.

Fundy cackles.

“Oh my god, Jack, you’re fine,” Niki laughs.

“Oh,” Jack sounds pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s alright then. Actually, that’s great!”

“I told you they were messing with you, Jack.”

“No, no you actually didn’t, what you did say was much more ambiguous,” Jack says pointedly.

“Okay, Jack, just turn around, will you?” Eret speaks up. “You all have actually got me intrigued.”

Jack turns to face the rest of them, and on his left cheek is a L’Manberg flag.

“Oh, Niki, that is awesome, dude! What if–” Eret’s excitement turns more hesitant. They’d been a bit unsure since coming here, an invitation extended to them for L’Manberg is something that feels like a delicate thing. “I was thinking, what if we all…”

“What if we all matched?” Fundy says for them. “I’d… Yeah, I’d be down with that. That was a good idea, Niki.”

Niki looks so proud, cheeks just a bit pinker. “I think that sounds like a really nice idea. But I’m not doing all the work. You all can paint, can’t you?” She dumps out her bag, Tommy and Tubbo immediately fighting over a brush.

Fundy avoids the pair of them. “Eret? I promise I won’t paint a dick on your face.”

“I don’t!” Eret replies cheerfully, seeming more at ease at Fundy’s easy agreement; that this was something for all of them, together.

Wilbur has been in a sort of daze, almost. He’s been perfectly content to watch them all moving around him, but it’s like he isn’t quite sure how to cross back over, to be with them properly and completely.

“Wil?”

That is definitely his name, but it takes Wilbur a few seconds too long to realize Niki is talking to him. “What?”

She turns to face him, patting the ground in front of her. Her eyes look almost surrounded by fire. “Do you not want to?”

“N-No, I do, I definitely do,” Wilbur quickly joins her. “I just–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain. That Wilbur had felt like his job was to be a silent observer. Maybe just a holdover from Limbo, even as Ghostbur, he’d never let himself engage fully. He’s alive and better in so many ways, but not in every way. “Yeah, I do,” is all he says, sitting cross legged in front of her, staring at his own hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Wil,” Niki laughs. “I can’t paint your face if you’re not looking at me.”

“Right, right,” Wilbur looks up.

Niki goes to say something, before thinking better of it. Wilbur doesn’t know why she’s holding back. She’s more than within her rights to make fun of him for looking like a nervous tourist in his own home.

“Can I put stuff on your eyes too? Like I did with Jack?” Is what she says instead.

Wilbur manages a teasing tone, taking off his glasses. “Er, well, maybe not on my eyes, but on my eye lids I might allow–”

Niki gives him a look, brushing her hand over his face, against his eyelashes, so he’ll close them. “You know that’s what I meant.”

“Right then, okay,” Wilbur laughs softly. He lets his eyes close.

“Bend closer. You’re sitting down and you’re still too tall,” Niki’s hand on his shoulder makes him shift his posture to something probably not ideal for his spine. Wilbur didn’t mind. The brush against his eyelids almost made him jump, but Niki’s hand on his shoulder stays, it keeps him steady.

Tubbo and Tommy are not keeping still, each trying to paint the cheek of the other.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to do it one at a time–?”

“No, no we’re doing great,” Tommy dismisses it. “Look, my hands are already gonna shake, this way yours do too so it’s even!”

Tubbo laughs, “yeah, alright, then.”

Tommy bites his tongue, trying to focus on the brush enough to make a straight line. “Stop smiling! It’s all crooked when you smile,” Tommy pouts.

“You’re not holding still either,” Tubbo’s brush taps him on the nose.

Tommy leans back, gasping in offense. “How dare you!”

Tubbo sticks his tongue out at him. “I told you we should’ve taken turns.”

"Fine, you sit still, I paint,” Tommy nods smartly.

“Don’t draw something weird.”

“Fine, fine, but I am gonna make a bee. And I make no promises on how that will turn out,” Tommy could have easily chosen mischief, instead, on Tubbo’s left cheek, he tries. His hands don’t look so badly scarred alongside Tubbo’s own scarred face. They fit together so nicely, even if Tommy’s skills with a paintbrush could use some work. It looks more like a fly than a bee, but it’s a yellow fly, so Tommy thinks that should count.

“Are you done?”

“No, no wait, I wanna make flowers to go with it,” Tommy says, searching for more paints. “A blue one… and a white one.”

“Oh–“ Tubbo’s tone softens to something far more delicate. “Oh,” a gentle ache resonates in his chest.

Tommy knows what he’s said. He leans against Tubbo, who remains steady. He knows exactly why Tubbo is looking at him like that. Tommy exhales a laugh, teasing and gentle. “Just thought I’d return the favor.”

“Tommy…”

“No. Hush. You’ll distract me,” Tommy says.

Tubbo relents, content to let Tommy have his way, Tommy close enough that he’s breathing in his face, but how could Tubbo ever mind? Tommy is breathing.

“There we go!” Tommy leans back, satisfied.

Jack seems mildly bored, his part of the craft already done, he leans forward. “That looks–”

“Amazing– why yes, thank you, Jack Manifold, you’re too kind!” Tommy cuts him off.

“Looks like just blobs on sticks.”

“Yeah, not sure if you’ve noticed but all flowers are are blobs on sticks,” Tommy pouts.

“Can I see?” Tubbo asks, fidgeting restlessly.

“Jack Manifold!” Tommy says like an announcement.

“What?” Jack replies wearily.

“Get the mirror!” Tommy commands him.

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll get it then,” Tommy clambers to his feet.

“Wait, no, you’re supposed to keep nagging me until I do it– sit back down, I’ve got it,” Jack waves him off.

Tommy settles, looking pleased. “Aw, I’ve missed your charm, Jack.”

“Have you?” Jack says, teasing if not suspicious. Tommy seems to mean it.

“Yeah, Jack Manifold, your charm. No need to be so shocked,” Tommy rolls his eyes dramatically. Since Tommy’s return, his snark had held less bite, but Jack almost felt relieved nowadays to find a Tommy that’s both snarky and joking again.

Niki remains focused only on Wilbur’s face as the rest of them chatter around her. “Okay, done with the eyes!” She leans back, satisfied.

Wilbur opens them. “What color did you put on them?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see, I still have to do the flag,” Niki searches for what’s left of the facepaint. “Alright, tilt your head, pick a side,” she says.

Wilbur doesn’t need to shut his eyes for this part, but he’s glad he has to turn slightly away, so instead he can just watch the others rustling around the van. Fundy has a flag on his cheek now, but Eret has also decided to add whiskers. Fundy now painted Eret’s cheek with intent precision, the flag half finished. Jack had joined Tommy and Tubbo, Tubbo whose right cheek had the flag, and his left a messy scene of flowers and bees that Wilbur could recognize as Tommy’s endearingly shoddy handiwork. Wilbur hadn’t realized how much he had missed this. He hadn’t even been sure if this was his to miss anymore, but somehow Wilbur feels like this makes sense. All of it, including him being here. Things had been unsure for so long, Wilbur can’t figure out when he lost this feeling, or if he ever had it. Wilbur is nobody’s president nor hero nor villain nor martyr. Instead, he just gets to sit and let Niki paint on his face. It’s the only job Wilbur wants anymore.

Niki sits back, brushing her thumb gently across her handiwork, fixing up the edges. “Good! I think it’s done,” she smiles.

“What color is it, then?” Wilbur asks.

“Hold on, hold on– Jack, can I?” Niki leans away from him.

“Oh, Niki, I– I dunno,” Wilbur says hastily as she takes the mirror from Jack.

Niki stops, looking puzzled. “Do you not want to see it?”

“No, I–” Wilbur pauses, staring at her, glancing to the rest of them, none of whom pay him any mind. He’s not a corpse anymore. “Y-Yeah, yeah let me see.”

Wilbur says this, but he’s still looking at her, not at the mirror in front of her. Wilbur had, with almost impressive conviction, avoided his own reflection devoutly for weeks. He’s let himself remain trapped with nothing but a horrible distortion of his own dead face for a self image. Wilbur has not seen his own face beyond a corpse in over a decade. He’s scared that he will see his own face and find that nothing had changed. If lucky enough not to see dead eyes, then maybe something worse; the cruel, dark expression of the man who had haunted Pogtopia until he could find a way to die bloody. He doesn’t want that for himself anymore. And he won’t get any better by looking away.

Wilbur looks at the mirror, at his own painted face. And the first time he sees his reflection alive it is with Niki’s handiwork, her– maybe not her forgiveness, but her love, painted on his eyelids.

“It’s… It’s a sunrise,” Wilbur’s voice is hoarse and small and utterly in awe.

“Yeah! You can’t really see all of it with your eyes open, of course, but I thought it suited you,” Niki beams.

Wilbur stares. Blue that almost dusts his eyebrows, blended into a soft purple, to orange, to yellow. Those colors resting on top of brown eyes. Eyes not left glassy or out of focus or filmed over, eyes that have a soul behind them, eyes that crinkle up in the corner as he smiles.

“Thank you, Niki,” Wilbur’s hand brushes up to his own cheek, stopping himself before he could smudge the flag painted there.

“Wil!” Fundy breaks the spell, pulling Wilbur back into the room with them. He has his guitar case. “Where the hell did you find this, man?”

“Oh, uh, I-I mean I have it, yes, but I–” Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain. Fundy has his guitar, he knows what sort of request happens next.

“I dug it up out of Pogtopia,” Tommy answers. “I don’t think it’s in great shape, so.” Yeah. If it is the person who might play it, not the guitar itself.

Fundy takes the hint with surprising delicacy, putting it back. “It’s… It’s cool you have it again, Wil.”

Just from those words Wilbur knows no one here expects him to play. Somehow that doesn’t make Wilbur feel relieved. Tommy had defended him, because he knows as well as Wilbur does that this– all of it, it’s progress and that progress matters. But things still aren’t what they once were and they never will be. But there has to be a line, a delicate balance of finally moving forward and remembering, despite everything that’s changed from what was once their family, there was love there, and there is love here again, broken and repaired or maybe just changed, but love persevering.

Their plans for the evening are not a festival. There will be no speeches or fireworks or decorations beyond the flags always hanging on the platforms of New L’Manberg. Tommy had loosely described it as a party– and if he lets proximity be enough, a beach party.

Tommy’s only expectation had been a campfire like the ones they had back in the day, the invitations had been vague and unofficial, no set list merely word of mouth, the details hadn’t mattered, just something to push them all together. They gather outside New L’Manberg, in the grass adjacent to the Camarvan, where it’s safe to have a fire. Tommy puts down his jukebox just as the sun began to set.

He plays Cat.

The first to arrive make sense. Phil and Ranboo merely cross the stream from New L’Manberg. Then Quackity follows and where Quackity goes, Sapnap and Karl are never far behind. Technoblade’s attendance is more of a surprise, him serving as a nervous shadow for Phil, the great Blood God felled by a social gathering. Eret invited Foolish, Niki invited HBomb and Puffy. Tommy had spur of the moment asked Sam and Ponk to come, it only felt right after what they’d done for him, and he couldn’t invite one without the other. Tommy wasn’t sure how the Badlands found their way over, it could have been Sapnap or Sam or anyone else, but they come too. And so on and on and so it goes. It becomes such a messy web of friends and friends of friends but none of that really matters, because really Tommy is just triumphant in how utterly unalone they are.

Tommy stays close to Tubbo, and Wilbur close to Tommy, and Tommy finds himself drifting away from the Jukebox and Cat and that doesn’t scare him anymore. Maybe he shouldn’t be so trusting, or maybe it’s not even a matter of trust. Tommy is tired of being scared. And whoever there’s left for him to mistrust is overshadowed in those who will protect him.

Wilbur used to always find himself at the center. He talked well and he talked loud and people would listen. He was charming and confident and he would let the world focus on him just a bit more sharply. Wilbur doesn’t know anymore. He likes to be there. He likes to listen, and he likes it when other people look at him when he speaks, because he’s really there, but it’s been harder for him to find anything worth saying.

So eventually he both retreats and pushes himself a little further. He goes back into the Camarvan and returns with a guitar case. Now they gravitate in on him, Wilbur Soot with a guitar and all the magnetism of a black hole, people take notice. Just like they used to and if that doesn’t fill Wilbur with the excited, terrified static of being alive, he doesn’t know what will.

Tommy looks away for a minute and Wilbur has his guitar again, startling sure, but for a moment Tommy feels both hopeful and almost hurt, but Wilbur isn’t playing it, Tommy hasn’t missed his brother's glorious return. He’s sat by the fire, holding it just out of the case, but not nestled neatly against his chest like it usually would be. He’s not getting ready to play. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it. Already people are looking his way, curious. Tommy is going to get there first.

Tommy taps Tubbo on the arm, nodding in Wilbur’s direction. Tubbo follows his gaze and for a moment he lights up, but he sees as well as Tommy that Wilbur seems stuck. Wordlessly an understanding is exchanged, Tubbo nods, and they join him by the fire.

Tommy is on Wilbur’s right side. “Alright?” He asks him.

Wilbur stares at those gathered around him. And he cannot bring himself to move. He wants this. He wants to play again. He just doesn’t think he can, so instead, he speaks.

“Quackity.”

“What?” Quackity stares at him from across the fire, looking startled. “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

Wilbur stands, and offers him the guitar. “I’m… a little rusty. Would you do the honors?”

Quackity hesitates for another moment, brown eyes careful if not understanding as he accepts it. He understands, maybe not personally, but he knows the weight of the thing as he takes the guitar from Wilbur’s hands. “Yeah, yeah sure. Uh. What am I playing?”

“Come on, Big Q, you know what to play,” Tommy says.

The anthem. If Tommy is singing too, this Wilbur can manage. And it’s not just Tommy. It’s not just L’Manberg, at least not just as Wilbur knows it. Tommy and Wilbur meet each other’s gaze, each with the same startled contentment and pride. Tommy hadn’t realized how many people knew the anthem either.

The rest of the night comes easily, a gentle thing. Tommy is happy. That had been the point of it all, surely. This moment, late at night, old friends and friends of friends leaving after time spent willingly and wasted joyfully, it’s exactly what Tommy had wanted. Tommy had gotten what he wanted. It's almost more surprising that that doesn’t seem so strange to him anymore.

Their numbers dwindle. Tubbo, Ranboo, Phil, and Techno are still in New L’Manberg, talking under the glow of the lanterns, but Tommy and Wilbur are the last to stay by the dying fire.

Tubbo isn’t far, neither are their other close friends, but they’re not here. Not within this moment between two brothers who kept living; who kept living and wanted to keep living, even if they took the long way round to get to this point. Quackity had returned the guitar, not to its case, but very deliberately to Wilbur’s unsure hands before he left. Wilbur hasn’t set it down. He’s no longer holding it like it’s a bomb, it’s resting in front of his torso. All he needs to do is put his hands on the strings.

“Hey, Wil?” Tommy watches as Wilbur stares into the fire, unfocused.

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“Do you want to play?”

Wilbur glances over at him, not surprised by the question, not really. He’s maybe more surprised by how sure he is in his own answer. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Tommy nods. “But you can’t.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and– and I don’t think it’s about deserve,” Wilbur is rambling and emphatic in an instant, like he’s just been waiting for the right push, talking more to the fire than to him. “I don’t think– It’s not that I don’t deserve to play it, and in Limbo I couldn’t because… because there was no one to listen, so it just hurt, and now I just– I actually… I…”

“Hey, we’ll figure this out,” Tommy is so steady.

Wilbur takes a breath, the heat of the fire, the brightness of it, overwhelming and comforting at the same time. “You don’t know how to play the guitar.”

“Yeah. You do.”

Wilbur laughs, almost embarrassed. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” A pause, Tommy just waits. “It’s gonna sound different. No matter how much I remember, a-and I know it’s because I’m out of practice, and not practicing isn’t going to help, but it’s not gonna sound right.” It feels like such a ridiculous thing, yes, Wilbur playing the guitar for the first time in over a decade will not sound right.

Tommy doesn’t judge him, he doesn’t tease him or tell him to just try, but he doesn’t give up on him either. Wilbur never gave up on him.

“Could you show me?” Tommy asks.

“What?”

“Show me,” Tommy nods to the guitar. “I want you to show me how to play. A demonstration. Come on, I’ve wanted you to show me for ages now.” A pause, Tommy giving Wilbur a moment to reply. He still hesitates. “Please? Come on, I’m giving you my best puppy dog eyes, you have to say yes!”

Wilbur stares at him, putting on an exasperated front, even as Tommy makes all of this easier for him. He knows Tommy won’t quit and no matter how unsure he is, he’s grateful. Wilbur looks down. It’s almost like watching someone else at first, hands still so naturally finding their proper place. He plays.

Wilbur knows hes not playing it well, that he’s all but forgotten how, but the look on Tommy’s face when he watches him, radiant and joyful and so amazed by whatever Wilbur manages, it makes him want to try again.

It’s bad and messy and hesitant and it’s the most amazing thing Tommy has ever heard. He never thought he’d hear this again, his brother fumbling with the strings, but playing nonetheless. Fuck symphonies. His brother is alive. He’s home. Tommy has known for a long time now he deserves a kinder world, they deserve a kinder world, but what they deserve doesn’t matter, deserve is a feeble game, a set of rules for dead men. Tommy is tired of cruel games and stupid rules. He wanted his brother, he wanted to feel okay again. And here he is, resting easy just outside the Camarvan, not in the L’Manberg, but a L’Manberg that has stood up out of the ashes and breathed again right alongside them, just as scarred and changed and just as alive. He got what he wanted.

The notes fade, almost as unsteady as when they began, and they’re left with the dim crackle of the fire, crickets and cicadas like an endless applause, and just faintly, the gentle hum of voices of other people they love just across the water.

Wilbur looks at his brother and can't help but feel honored to be worth whatever look Tommy is giving him right now. “So, uh, not too bad?”

“Nah,” Tommy says, his efforts at being blasé are weakened by the way he’s looking at Wilbur, the kind of awe that only a little brother can have. “Not too bad at all.” Tommy sounds so proud. “Play it–” The light has not faded from behind his eyes, blue standing out against the darkness. “Play it again?”

Wilbur does as Tommy asks. He keeps going.

#ha. took me over a month. but here we are. 13k words of nothing but sappy peace #thank you all so much for this experience #hope you like the ending <3 #my writing #tddd

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neoncrowpen · 3 years

Note

Hey Crow, can you write male reader as Tommy's son? not Charles, but maybe his older brother or an only child? Whatever works for you. We know that Tommy was more openly affectionate while Grace was alive, attentive too, but after she died (and I'm referring to his conversation with Charlie inside the wagon after Johnny Dogs took them to Wales) he shut himself off, and buries himself in his work, though he is still calm and warm towards Charlie in the scenes we've seen so far (+his bad health in S5.) That makes me think about reader wanting to spend more time with him especially after his marriage to Lizzie and the birth of Ruby; but then Tommy becomes a politician. Which brings me to this request - what do you think about reader breaking into Tommy's office in the House of Commons, hoping to get some of his attention but it backfires? Tommy yells at him instead and reader tries to explain himself but Tommy wouldn't hear it. I just really need some angry Tommy/dad Tommy content and I really enjoy your portrayal of him in my first two requests. I hope that this one is okay, too.

As you sped off in a good sprint, you thought of your uncle Finn. He had driven you into the city after you lied to him about ‘wanting to spend time with your favorite uncle’. Either you were taking on more of your stepmother’s traits or Finn was the dumbest Shelby in the family. It didn’t matter in the end. You got to exactly where you wanted to be.

You had been studying London city maps for a while and it paid off. Funny how maps worked and told anyone where everything was. It was a new concept that delighted you. Your father would be so proud that you got here all by yourself. Trouble was, how to get inside.

“I’m a Shelby,” you told yourself. “And I can do anything.” You eyed the alley to the side, noting a delivery man loading a cart with food and tea items. Bingo. You easily crawled underneath, stowing away. As your plan worked, a rush of excitement ran through you. The delivery man wheeled the cart inside without noticing his extra cargo. However, you only got as far as a storage room. You watched an aide load a different tea cart.

Dad took tea. He took tea often. It was a good, calculated risk, you thought. When the aide was turned around, you crawled into the second cart. You tucked yourself even further as the aide placed more tea cups underneath the cart. You kept your sigh of relief to yourself as the second cart started to roll down the hallway. You tugged back the thick, white tablecloth to read the office names. Williams. No. Baskins. No. Dick Johnson? You snickered, still no.

And there it was. Thomas Shelby, MP.

Yes.

The aide slowed the cart pass your father’s office. After making sure the coast was clear, you rolled yourself out. The lockpick kit you lifted from Finn earlier proved useful now. It wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be. At first, you had the tools all switched around. Then, a few people walked by, and you his yourself behind the second cart again. Frustration started to give you a decent headache until you heard a satisfying click.

“Just wait till Dad sees me,” you snuck inside, leaving the door wide open. “He’s going to be so surprised!” The office was much smaller than you thought. Your dad’s office back home was twice the size. Dusty books and boring colors didn’t capture your attention. The windows didn’t have any curtains to hide behind, so all gray daylight streamed into the room. No secret passageways or nonsense here. You scrambled underneath your father’s desk once you heard oncoming footsteps.

Ah, a perfect place to surprise him. This plan was your best yet. Everything was going so well! You couldn’t wait for your father to come in. He would be so proud of you and your cleverness. This definitely warranted a good reward. Ice cream? A tour of the building? It didn’t matter. All you really wanted was for your dad to tell you how clever you were and smile at you.

You couldn’t remember the last time he did smile at you.

A set of familiar footsteps stopped in the doorway. You heard the distinct sound of a gun clicking into place. It was subtle, but you knew the sound. Last month, your father taught you how to use a gun and why it wasn’t a toy. Your excitement couldn’t be contained much longer. You jumped out from underneath the desk with your hands raised.

“Papa! It’s me! Look! I made it all the way here!” you shouted. As your eyes adjusted to the daylight again, you were not greeted with your father’s smile. Instead, Thomas’ breath hitched, his grip tightened.

“What the hell, Y/N? You nearly fucking—what are you doing here?” Thomas berated you. His hand immediately closed the office door behind him. Your face started to fall.

“I was reading the map of London and I figured how to get here,” you gave him your proudest smile. “And now that I’m here, we can spend the whole day together! Isn’t it great?” You waited for your father to congratulate you. Thomas grabbed the scruff your shirt collar and forced you into one of his office chairs. You winced at his grip. He never grabbed you like that before.

“You’re supposed to be at school.” He sounded angrier than you thought he would be.

“Uncle Finn took me out. I tricked him! You’re right. He is the dumbest Shelby,” you laughed. When your father didn’t laugh with you, yours faded. His eyes glared down at you.

“And did you stop to think that this was a good idea?” His question cut into you. When you didn’t answer right away, he shook your chair, startling you. Why was he so angry? You made a good plan and you executed it perfectly.

“I just missed you,” you admitted. “I never see you anymore.” Hurt flashed in your father’s eyes. You watched him exhale a long breath except no cigarette smoke came out of his mouth. Thomas tucked the gun away. He walked towards his desk.

“I could’ve seriously hurt you. Guns are not a toy, remember?”

“I remember. But, you wouldn’t hurt me.” You mustered a different smile this time. It didn’t matter if your plan was clever or not. You could just settle with being here with him. Thomas dialed the phone on his desk. A new excitement made your heart beat faster. “Are you going to order tea for us?”

“No,” Thomas flatly told you. “You’re going back to school where you belong.”

“What? No,” you shook you head. You jumped out of the chair and rushed towards his side. Your hands grabbed his suit jacket. If you could just hold him really tight, like you did when you were younger, maybe he’ll understand. “I want to be here with you.”

Thomas pulled you off. “This isn’t the place for children.”

“But—

“Stop this right now, and listen to me.” You looked up. This was not your father. This was wrath. His tone felt like a knife sinking into your chest. “You may think this was a clever thing to do, but you’re wrong. This is, by far, the dumbest thing you have ever done. What if someone hurt you? Grabbed you? Would you like that? For a stranger to come and grab you and take you away?”

“No,” your voice broke. You bit your lip down hard. You heard someone knock at the door. An aide tucked their head inside.

“Afternoon, Oswald. If you could please wait with my son outside, his uncle will be by to take him back to school soon.” Thomas bent down to you. He gripped your wrist as if he was hurting you on purpose. “You will not do this again. You hear me?” You nodded. “Say you’re not going to do something stupid like this again.”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid ever again.” Your eyes more drawn to the floor than to the man in front of you. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

As the aide guided you out of Thomas’ office, you went over the plan in your head again. Every single thing you did was thought-out. Every move was deliberate. None of it worked. You glanced back at your father. He ran his hand down his face. The same frown you had gotten used to hardened on his face.

This was your fault. You resolved that he would never smile at you again.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #imagine thomas shelby #son!reader #child!reader #male!reader #imagine request #fic request #thomas shelby gif #peaky blinders imagine #imagine peaky blinders #peaky blinders

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witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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ootahime · 3 years

Text

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga p2

part 1 is here :3

this post includes more excruciatingly long paragraphs so grab urself something and enjoy LOL

chapter 40

i know they’re not interacting in this panel but i still want to bring it up. i’m gonna give some context to this scene in case someone needs to jog their memory. so basically, mei’s ability to command crows is what allows the staff to observe the students from afar. however, gojo notices that there’s lack of footage where yuuji is and asks mei why that’s so. she tells him that they’re animals at the end of the day so she can’t control what they look at. he doesn’t believe her so he asks her whose side she’s on (for yuuji’s execution vs against yuuji’s execution) to which she responds with, “whose side? i’m on the side with money, of course. there’s no value in something that can’t be bought since you can’t exchange that for money.” in other words, she’ll always choose the side that offers her more money because she doesn’t care about how morally “correct” or “incorrect” something is. it’s not worth fighting for a cause that doesn’t benefit her in the long run which is why she views things that are unable to be bought (friendships, relationships, favors) as useless - they can’t be exchanged for money. it’s clear that gojo knows she’s not on his side because he replies with, “spoken from experience!” or “i wonder how much!” (translation varies). he says it out loud to perhaps let gakuganji know that he’s onto him. i find it interesting how utahime is in the panel as well with a “?” to express her confusion at his words. let’s overthink dissect that. why is she there in the first place? if the message was to let gakuganji know that gojo is aware of his ulterior motives then a panel with gakuganji and gojo would have sufficed. why add utahime with a question mark?

here’s a personal headcanon of mine that makes no absolute sense, but who cares? it makes me happy LOL. so let’s examine the panel. gojo’s face is more simplified and cartoonish with a grey background on top and some sort of white bubble surrounding the three characters. gakuganji is staring at utahime and gojo. in the official viz translation, he replies to mei with, “i wonder how much!”

normal and logical explanation: shading the principal by asking out loud how much mei was paid by him to avoid monitoring yuuji.

gojohime brainrot explanation:

mei: “there’s no value in something that can’t be bought since you can’t exchange that for money”

gojo: (in response) i wonder how much utahime’s love would cost if it did have a price.

utahime: ?

you’re probably thinking i’m delulu (true) BUT HEAR ME OUT. IT WOULD SOMEWHAT MAKE SENSE IN THIS CONTEXT...

mei’s saying seems to be what she lives by. relationships, love, friendships, etc. do not matter to her as this is evident when she ultimately abandons everyone in shibuya to escape to malaysia, selling all her stocks before japan’s economy goes down. she doesn’t care about anyone else. she even takes advantage of ui ui’s adoration for her. she contrasts utahime. utahime is loved by her students. children, especially teenagers, are picky when it comes to choosing the adults they admire and respect. while everyone trusts gojo, they do not respect him because of his childishness and overall absurdity. it’s refreshing to see how they always call him an idiot or have a -_- face when he’s around. when akutami says everyone absolutely adores utahime-sensei, it says a lot. we haven’t seen her interact with her students all that much, but she’s obviously close to them because she’s frequently arguing with momo. even a closed off person like mechamaru wanted to keep her away from danger. she most certainly expresses a lot of concern and care for her students, and gojo and her students can pick up on this.

i’ve talked about this in every post LOLOL but there’s a reason why he went to utahime first to help him investigate. utahime is a loyal person through and through. she would never do something that harms the students even if she was offered everything in the world. she values relationships above everything else. besides her concern for the students, how else was i able to come to this conclusion about her character? well, she got shoko to stop smoking because she was worried about how it might damage her friend’s health. from these two details, it’s obvious that she’s the complete opposite of mei.

maybe that’s why he calls her weak. she’s too selfless and compassionate in a world where every sorcerer is for themselves. the world is cruel as a sorcerer. no matter how hard you try to fight, in the end, you’ll always die alone. remember his talk with megumi after the baseball game? after witnessing megumi pull a sacrificial bunt to help his teammates advance, gojo has a talk with megumi about his attitude and potential. he says that being selfless and caring about others is not a bad thing, but in a world like this, where people always die alone, he is wasting his potential by being concerned with others. it’s okay to be selfish. this is why we see fierce independence in a lot of the sorcerers like mei, nanami, and gojo. they each have their own reasons as to why they work alone, but it’s still a common characteristic. i feel like utahime doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body. i speculate that her selflessness is the exact reason why she is being held back. during her mission to exorcise a grade 1 spirit by herself, the final task before being promoted to grade 1, she likely got distracted trying to help civilians out of danger and failed her mission. he’s right when he says she doesn’t have the guts to be the traitor, utahime doesn’t have it in her to do something so boldly solely for her own benefit.

after this long tangent, how does this relate to your headcanon, ootahime?

as you know, love is not transactional. you can’t pay someone to love you. what if gojo is asking himself how much it would cost to buy her love. hence, her confusion because she is oblivious to what he really means. it could be probable because gakuganji is observing not only gojo, but utahime as well. so what gojo says must involve her too, right?

or she could just be confused because his words seem out of place because she is unaware of what gakuganji is doing behind everyone’s back. that explanation makes sense for viz’s official translation but it doesn’t make sense when he says, “spoken from experience!” because his words make sense in that context. he’s basically saying that mei’s beliefs must be based on her past experiences so he understands why she feels this way. that’s an appropriate response to mei’s statement so i don’t see why utahime would be confused by this. unless i’m interpreting this whole scene completely wrong. in that case, whoopsies!

let me know if you’re confused because i’m willing to clarify. idk why but i found this really difficult to explain. maybe because i’m reaching so hard haha

chapter 40

he finds any way he can to tease her. they seem like a married couple watching a movie or something. does he take pride in being the only person she doesn’t get along with? i mean, she says it herself so he is aware she thinks he’s annoying, but he keeps picking on her anyway. he doesn’t even pick on his enemies this much LMAOOO i think the only other person he likes to make fun of is gakuganji but he does so because he doesn’t agree with his views. with utahime it’s different. he trusts her a lot and even looks out for her.

chapter 44

why are there two separate instances of gakuganji observing utahime and gojo’s interactions from afar? nah i’m just playing. he’s just looking because he’s concerned she’ll run into the semi-grade 1 curse he had for yuuji. OKAY BUT I NOTICED SOMETHING KINDA CUTE? whenever utahime says something suddenly, he always has those 3 little triangles near his head. it’s like he’s thinking, “oh! utahime is speaking, i must listen <3″ look at his face too. he’s looking at her like :O

this is also an example of her showcasing her concern for the students in front of gojo. i feel like he questions why she’s so caring because if it were him, he would have left the student to figure it out themselves. i really wonder how she would react if he answered her truthfully when she asked what he’d do if she were the traitor.

chapter 45

there’s not much to say here...they’re just cute. i know it’ll never happen but i’d like to see them fight side by side one day. i’m aware that gojo works best alone but i just want to see how they’d work together, okay? 😔

chapter 45

see the little triangles on his head again? UGH SO CUTE.

chapter 45

IS THIS NOT INTENTIONAL??? they share the same thoughts. he even finished her thought. mannnnnnnnnnnnn what is akutami doing? giving us false hope and stripping it away just for fun? making them work so well together for what??

chapter 52

cute how he looks out for her. i have nothing more to say LOL

chapter 53

notice how they’re sitting across from each other? HEHE

chapter 53

yet another instance of her caring for her students in front of gojo. in the anime she has the cutest expression when she says she’s glad the students are safe. i bet gojo saw that too. i also bet that she looks prettier from his point of view.

extra

from the manga and light novels, gojo and utahime are the ones that talk about sports the most. he most definitely chose baseball to cheer her up. it’s not a coincidence people!

i feel like i had a lot more to say but i completely lost my train of thought while writing this, especially with chapter 40. i’m once again writing this at 4 in the morning LOL........ please please please add on or share your thoughts! thank you for reading and sorry for any mistakes.

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Strawberries & Cigarettes

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (Soulmate!AU)

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of sex (once), swear words, talks about death of minor character, mentions of smoking (don't do it kids)

Summary: As a child you detested strawberries, convincing yourself that you have an allergy to them. But imagine your shock when you grow up and realise that your soulmate connection has to do with the wretched berry.

Word count: 7.7k

rating : pg

A/N: This is square 4/25 for the @bangtanwritingbingo (Square: Strawberries) I have not written something remotely angsty in a while so this has been a challenge but i did it! And i am somewhat proud of it! Thank you @mochi-molala @sunshinejunghoseokie for listening to me complain about this it has been a journey. And most importantly, thank you @min-yoon-kween for being a beta queen and trying to read through this mess and managing to make 3am rambles onto words. I really appreciated all the support and tough love! @yoonjinkooked, @sunshinekims and @yoonia thank you for being there and listening to my 3am complaints whilst i was getting this done, your encouragement has been a massive help!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

The sweet, fragrant, slightly tart taste invades your senses once again causing you to sigh in frustration. How are you meant to find your soulmate if this unknown taste is all you have to go by? You couldn’t even pinpoint what it could be, the flavour being unlike anything that has ever touched your tastebuds.

“For real now Y/N, what do you have against fruit?” Your friend, Taehyung, inquires. You’ve adamantly refused his offer to share a fruit snack. It’s not like you had anything against fruit, far from it. You loved fruit. It was just the wretched strawberries lying there innocently on the bed of other berries, tainting them.

“It’s not fruit! I love fruit, you know that! Remember that time we snuck out into your grandfather's garden to steal apricots?” Your friend snorts. He remembers that time extremely well. You ate way more than you should have and ended up with indigestion for days after that.

“It’s just…” you grimace, looking once more at the red offenders. “Those”

“Strawberries?!” It was Taehyung’s turn to grimace. “How can you still hate strawberries after all this time? They are the best berry out there!” As if to prove his point he reaches for one and pops it in his mouth. You look away in disgust. “Oh come on Y/N, give them a try. You never know, you may like them now.” He pushed one towards you. Glaring at him, you rejected his offer.

“Tae, you know I can't! It’s not that I don't like them, I am allergic to them!” He responded with an incredulous look but didn’t say anything. Reading too much into his look you go to defend yourself. “I am! Since I was a child!”

“How do you know?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Shrugging, you tried to find a good answer.

Truth is, you didn’t know whether or not you were allergic to them. All you had was a bad memory from when you were a child. You had a very bad encounter with said berries. It was not a near death experience by any means, and it was not an allergic reaction. You were just a child, excited at the thought of trying a new fruit and so in your exhilaration you shoved it a bit too readily in your mouth. The innocent berry happened to go down the wrong pipe and causing you to choke and your family to panic. Ever since then you had sworn to never touch them again, telling everyone around you that you were allergic. That way you didn’t have to face the shame of retelling this childhood story and they couldn’t try forcing you to eat them.

It happened so long ago that you couldn’t even remember the taste. You couldn’t understand why everyone around you seemed to find them so delicious.

“I- just do ok? I had a bad reaction to them a long time ago, and I don’t want a repeat experience” you shrugged hoping that he would not catch onto the white lie you had just blatantly presented to his face. Side eyeing you suspiciously, Taehyung made sure to eat the strawberry he had picked up, sighing in the most dramatic way possible.

“Well then, more for me” his mouth was so full you could barely understand him. Disgusted you pushed his shoulder playfully. “Ew, that is bad manners. Did your mother not teach you to chew with your mouth closed?”

Taehyung pretended to look thoughtful whilst still chewing. “Nope, now take a blueberry and shut up” he pushed the assortment of fruit your way once again, this time making sure that the strawberries were out of your sight.

“Thanks Tae” you smiled gratefully at him, picking a blueberry out. Before it could reach your mouth, a loud thump resounded from next to you making you jump. Surprised your fingers let go of the blueberry you were holding so preciously.

“Oh man, don’t waste food!” a voice you recognised all too well spoke, whilst a hand made its way past your face and into the bowl of fruit Taehyung had so carefully prepared for the two of you. Long slender fingers wrapped themselves around the green stem of a strawberry. You followed the movement of the hand holding the strawberry to come face to face with the culprit.

“Hello to you too, Jungkook” Taehyung sighs, his smile instantly dropping. “What brings you here?” His deadpan expression was a good indication of how happy he was to see him.

“Uh, it’s lunchtime?” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if he had grown a second head. “Is this not where we are supposed to eat lunch?” disposing of the green stem of the strawberry, he pops it in his mouth. You wanted to grimace, you had enough of Taehyung making a scene whilst eating that damned fruit. Now you are forced to witness the office heartthrob lick his fingers clean of the fruit juice that coated them. Simultaneously expelling a moan so sinful it was definitely not appropriate for office hours. You doubted it was healthy for your heart.

“Yes, but you guys in the graphics team have a separate kitchen. You know, the one you took from us last year? The big fancy one?” Taehyung was still bitter about that incident. It had been his favourite break room to spend time in. The room was spacious and had more than just a few tables scattered here and there, divided by a couple of couches where employees could lounge during their break. There was also a terrace with a lot more space and a pool table. Most importantly,Taehyung’s pride and joy, a gaming room. He would get lost in there during his break, and sometimes even after work until you would come and retrieve him worried for his health.

That is where he met Jungkook, and that is where he ruined your life by introducing you to said office heartthrob. At the time your department and his rarely interacted outside of company meetings. You were working as a business analyst and he was working as a graphics developer. Your jobs could not have been more different from each other.

Truth be told, you had seen Jungkook around the building on more than one occasion. You had the chance to speak once at a company gala in a drunken haze, where you realised you had a lot of interests in common. But you only got to know him the second time you bumped into him, when Taehyung decided to introduce you two. His handshake and shy presentation told you he was too drunk to remember talking to you that night so you did not mention it either.

Once you’ve been introduced, his presence turned into one of the ones you sought out during lunch breaks, you became more aware of the rumours flying around the company. Out of all of them the ones you heard the most were about him and his love for “dining and dashing” all the women he had taken out on a date.

Normally, you wouldn’t be the person to listen to such rumours and allow them to sway your opinion of someone. But you had witnessed on one occasion how he had indeed left a woman in the middle of a restaurant and fled the scene. After that you wondered if maybe you should be more weary of him and his bad habits.

Talking to him in person was a completely different story. He seemed incredibly shy at the beginning, it took him a couple of weeks to be able to look you in the eyes. Taehyung would laugh and say it is because he had a crush on you but you doubted that. How could you believe that? Not when you lived in a world where lovers were predestined. You were born with a bond that tied you to someone else, a bond that's unbreakable. Your soulmate was made for you and only you. You could have other lovers until you found your true one, you have seen it happen on multiple occasions but once you found your soulmate and that bond was complete you couldn’t be apart from them.

Soulmates, a subject that ruined your life as soon as you became aware of it. At the age of ten you found out that all humans on this planet have a person they are meant to be with forever. A person that is yours, and only yours. At such a young age you fell in love with the concept. Fairies and princesses in the stories your parents would read you before bed, they all had their one true love. When you found out that you were meant to have one true love, a soulmate, you were beyond ecstatic. For years after, it was all you talked about and all you dreamt about. It all came crashing down when one rainy night your father had a car accident on his way home from work. The crash took a parental figure away from you. Aside from having had to deal with the pain of losing your hero, you also went through the misery of witnessing the painful heartbreak that comes with having a soulmate.

Your mother mourned for days, she could not eat or sleep, she withered right in front of your eyes. It was heartbreaking to experience your only remaining parent destroying themselves right before your eyes. You were only sixteen at the time and could not do anything to help alleviate the pain she was going through. So you helplessly stood at her side for another three years until one day, her soul finally gave up.

Her funeral was a relief for you, it meant she didn’t have to struggle anymore. The pain was gone. So, at the age of nineteen, you became an orphan.

Turning twenty and a struggling pen pusher, you met Taehyung in a cafe. You crashed into him soaking his expensive suit in coffee as you rushed out the door, late for work. Apologising profusely and promising to pay for his dry cleaning you gave him your number. That was the first time you had hit a stroke of good luck in years. Later that day, when a text came through from an unknown number you expected it to be an extortionate dry cleaning bill. Instead all that was written was: ‘Coffee’s on me next time (not literally though) haha.’ You couldn’t help but laugh, he gave you a place and time and signed it with Taehyung. That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

For the first few years of your friendship you’d wondered if he was your soulmate; and so, despite your aversion to the concept, you two started dating. It was difficult not to like him, he was good looking and you two seemed to have a lot in common. It didn’t help that the sex was also great, you had to admit he knew what he was doing. But after one too many nights of netflix and takeaways at his apartment, which ended in his bed, you both decided that you were not the one for each other. So, two years into your relationship you separated. Fortunately, the friendship you two forged remained, your bond stronger than before. At the age of twenty three, you moved in together as housemates. It was the most logical thing to do, you were attached at the hip anyway and rent was too expensive for a single person to bear. Twenty four came and went, stressed and always low on money, when luck struck you for a second time the day Taehyung told you a position had opened in his team. You decided to apply and rejoiced when you got the job offer. That night you and Taehyung celebrated with pizza and champagne.

Here you are three years later having worked in the same company, being promoted from a trainee to a junior business analyst, and life couldn’t have been better.

There was one thing that bothered you, and that was the strange taste in your mouth that you had begun to notice. At first it was so faint that you didn’t notice it. As time passed, it got stronger and stronger, until you could not ignore the slight tangy, sweet taste that lingered on the tip of your tongue. It wasn’t a bad taste, in fact you quite liked it. You were just annoyed at the fact that you could not place it. You tried multiple foods which you thought may have a similar taste but none of them satisfied that craving. You hid this information from Taehyung for a while, not wanting to make a big fuss out of it until the day he found you rummaging through the fridge mumbling to yourself.

“What are you doing Y/N?” he stood in the doorway confused as to why your head was buried deep into the fridge. You jumped not having heard him move into the kitchen and looked at him in surprise. The sight that greeted him was something he was not expecting. The hilarity of your wide eyed expression paired with the cheeks stuffed full of cherries made him double over in laughter.

Mumbling something akin to “stop laughing at me, i had a craving” you stood up and walked to the table dejectedly plopping yourself down on a chair. Taehyung sobered immediately noticing the forlorn expression on your face and whilst still wiping the tears from his eyes he approached you and sat down. “What’s up chipmunk?” he could not resist making a jab at you. Sighing you started picking at a stray thread off your sleeve. You decided it was time to tell him what has been bothering you for months, despite fearing his judgement.

“Have you ever had cravings?” you turn to look at him, your expression so innocent that he could not make fun of you for such a trivial question. “Of course I have! All the damn time” he scoffed at you.

“No, no what I mean is; have you ever had a taste at the tip of your tongue, on your lips something that isn’t what you have eaten that day, but it is there continuously lingering in your mouth?” the more you were explaining this out loud the stupider you felt. Your own words were confusing even to you. But it seemed like Taehyung knew what you meant because in an instant he jumped up from his seat and looked at you wide eyed.

“Y/N!” the grin on his face intensified. “Do you know what this means?” he grabbed your shoulders in excitement. “It means that you have found your soulmate!” your eyes widened in fear, your body stiffened under his hold. Realising what he’d said, and how you felt about soulmates he backtracked quickly. “Nonono, it means you are close to finding your soulmate. It means you have met them at last!” When your frozen body refused to move he realised that maybe that was not the best way to phrase it either. But the damage has already been done. Wide eyed, you flew off the chair and rushed out of the kitchen towards your own room, slamming the door in the process.

You called in sick the next day, and the day after, not leaving your room until you were certain Taehyung had left for work. He tried on multiple occasions to coax you out of your room, but to no avail. You stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. Mulling over your thoughts in the comfort of your room, conflicted at the realisation that he was right. You had met your soulmate, just not completed the bond yet.

“Y/N, are you ok?” the worry in his voice broke your heart, but you were too absorbed in your own thoughts to respond to him.

Memories of your parents, together and apart, thoughts of your mother and her suffering, memories of you together as a happy family all swirling around in your head. It was all too much to bear, and in the end your brain gave up exhausted, only to wake up the next day and start all over again. For a week you stayed in your room, but when Taehyung decided that enough was enough he formulated a plan in his head hoping it would get you out of your room. If you refused to come out for him, he would have to resort to other methods. He would invite people over, he knew you would not be able to resist the temptation of being a good host. So that day he called your colleague and his friend, Jungkook.

Later on that night, you laid in bed, thoughts ruminating through your head at a fast pace when you heard voices from the entrance. You could easily recognise Taehyung’s voice, the low timbre echoing through the house. It was the second voice that you could not pinpoint, and so, intrigued you got off the bed.

Your joints ached, having sat in the same position for so long and your head hurt from exhaustion. You knew you probably looked like a mess but curiosity was eating at your insides. So you took the chance and opened the door slightly trying to peek into the corridor. Unfortunately, your room was the first along the corridor, right around the corner from the kitchen. The kitchen where Taehyung and his mysterious companion were now exiting from. Your delayed reaction ended up with them coming around the corner almost bumping into you. Gasping, your eyes took in the unknown person whose voice drew you out of your miserable state.

“Jungkook '' you yelped. Startled at the intrusion, you slammed the door in their faces, your back now leaning against the door. You didn’t ponder too much on Jungkook’s shocked expression or Taehyung’s pleased one. Your heart was pounding, and for a second the blood rush from the adrenaline made your ears ring and your lips tingle. You were so focused on your embarrassment that you didn’t even notice the lingering sweet taste residing on your tongue.

Sliding against the door to keep yourself from falling you tried to regulate your heartbeat by taking a few deep breaths in. After a few moments, your eyes opened and took in the darkness of your room. Deciding that you were calm enough you got up, your legs slightly wobbly from crouching for so long. Turning on the light you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was in disarray, your skin looked dull and the red that rimmed your eyes accentuated the eyebags under them. Grimacing at your appearance, you patted your hair trying to make it look more presentable only to give up after a few minutes. Throwing another worried glance at your door, as if you were expecting the boys to barge in at any moment, you contemplated going out there. You sighed deciding that you didn’t care if Jungkook would think you were impolite, you were not ready to face the world.

For the next couple of hours you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts accompanied by the loud hollers coming from the living room where the boys were playing video games. Too absorbed in your own thoughts you didn’t realise how late it had gotten, the rumbling of your stomach waking you up from your trance.

Opening the door you listened intently but there were no sounds coming from the living room. You assumed the boys had finally fallen asleep do as quietly as you could you tiptoed to the kitchen. The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the TV in the living room where you assumed the boys had passed out. Turning on the light in the kitchen you contemplated stealing Taehyung’s last pack of ramen when a voice from behind startled you.

“What are you doing?” you yelped, not having expected to have company.

Jungkook stood in the middle of the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep, his hair poofed up and judging by the groggy voice, still half asleep. You tried to ignore the way your heart somersaulted at the sight of his messy hair, the way his hooded eyes were blinking sleepily at you and the way his small yawn made him resemble a rabbit. He was adorable and for a second you entertained the thought of telling him that.

“Food” was all you finally replied, secretly trying to fix your messy appearance. Jungkook hummed in acknowledgment. You looked away trying to ignore his eyes on you. The silence that followed was awkward, neither of you knew what to say. “Uh, I don’t know if that rascal fed you but uh….would you like some ramen?” you stuttered trying to break the awkwardness. His stomach growled as if prepared for your question. You stared at him in shock for a couple of seconds before you burst into laughter.

Jungkook smiled at you bashfully, too embarrassed to respond so you took it upon yourself and pulled another chair out for him to sit in.

The silence that ensued was comforting, neither you nor Jungkook feeling the need to interrupt it with small talk. You observed amusedly the way his eyes seemed to lighten up at the sight of food, the way the corner of them would crinkle in excitement and the small satisfied sounds at the food gracing his taste buds was something you found adorable.

The feeling of contentment that enveloped you was entirely new. As the calmness washed over you, you realised it felt like coming home. Not knowing what to make of it you continued to stare at Jungkook, hoping that the answers were hidden somewhere in his smile. Catching you stare at him mid bite Jungkook stopped and tilted his head in confusion.

“Is there something on my face?” realising you were staring at him for a bit too long you squeaked in embarrassment.

“Ah, no no no I was just lost in thought.” Hoping he would buy that excuse, you offered him a bright smile.

Jungkook had known you were staring at him, and for a brief second, along with the spiciness of the noodles burning his tongue, he felt something smoky intertwine. He wondered if it was the food, but the taste was too distinct. In an instant he could place it, the taste of cigarettes. It was faint but he recognised instantly that ashy fragrance. He wondered if his soulmate was a smoker and if so why would the taste bother him now?

He found out about the soulmate connection years ago and how he was meant to figure out which person was meant for him. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to trigger a taste that was only attributed to them. His trigger happened a few years ago when he started working for the company. To say he was excited was an understatement. He has dreamt of meeting his soulmate for so long and to know that they were in proximity was exhilarating.

In his naive search for them he decided to accept all the requests he has gotten from his colleagues to go on dates. Unfortunately for him, he realised too late that it was not the way to find the one that was meant to be for you. Just like the concept of a soulmate, if it was meant to happen, it would happen. He realised too late and after too many failed dates that he could not rush the process. So he stopped trying. Until that one day when he saw you on the roof of the building, during lunch time. You had no idea that you were not alone, had you been aware of that fact you may have not gotten out your pack of cigarettes. Jungkook could tell by the way your foot tapped the ground impatiently and the way your hands kept grabbing at your hair that you were stressed. He sat in silence not wanting to disturb you as you seemed to be hyping yourself up about something. You didn’t interact that day, but in his head he knew he had found you. The taste of cigarettes on his lips was as strong as the smell wafting through the air.

Normally he would not have been happy about someone who smoked in his vicinity, the harsh smell causing his nose to tingle in an unpleasant fashion. Watching you stress smoke that cigarette with the knowledge that you were his soulmate he found himself unbothered by that knowledge. He knew who you were, your mutual friend being Taehyung. He had introduced you two as soon as you started working for the company.

He will always remember that specific moment, the time when you smiled shyly at him extending your hand. He felt an unusual warmth all throughout his body, but he didn’t realise at the time it was your soulmate bond tying itself together like the ends of two loose strings.

He tried with all his might to figure out whether or not you had the faintest idea about your soulmate connection and for a few months he would insist on taking his break on the floor below just so he could spend time with you. Your lack of interest towards him and his advances told him that you were oblivious. You weren’t treating him differently than you would treat Taehyung and for a while he questioned himself. What if he had been wrong? Instead of keeping up appearances, he let himself slip into the friend's mould. If he had been wrong then it would spare him the embarrassment, if he hadn’t been wrong then it would do him no harm to be friends first.

The memories still fresh in his mind he knew now that you were his soulmate. Still a bit tipsy from the wine he had shared with Taehyung earlier he plucked up the courage and jokingly asked, “Is it because I am handsome?” The shocked look on your face and the silence that ensued were far from comfortable. Slowly Jungkook could feel the heat of the blood rushing to his face and he tried his best to hide his embarrassment with a cough. “I mean-“

At the sight of his wide eyes and red cheeks you started chuckling, not being able to hold your composure for any longer. “It was bad, but you’re adorable.” This time your face turned beet red. You both looked at each other like deer caught into headlights for a few moments, only to dissolve into laughter once again.

That night you talked to Jungkook as if he was an old friend. It felt comfortable to share stories with him, to laugh and to make jokes. It felt good to be out of your head for once. The worries that had plagued your mind completely dissolved in between the laughter and the wine that you were sharing.

At some point during the night you both moved into the corridor in front of your room, both sat on the floor, your back leaning against the wall. Passing the wine bottle in between the two of you the conversation carried on into the darkness of the corridor. The only available source of light coming from the kitchen dimly lighting both of your faces, casting shadows across the floor. You didn’t know when you got so close to him, your skin prickling at the heat emanating from his body. Or when your head dropped onto his broad shoulder, your eyes fluttering, heavy with sleep.

“Y/N” Jungkook whispered and you hummed in response. The familiarity of the scene made him smile. You looked adorable, cuddled into his side, your eyes laden with sleep.

“What if I were to tell you I found my soulmate?” His voice was fearful but his heart was hopeful.

Wide awake now, your head snapped up. “What?”

Even though it was meant to be a whisper your voice reverberated through the corridor. Gasping you stopped to listen for any signs of Taehyung waking up. When the corridor stayed silent you breathed a sigh of relief and cleared your throat. “What?” you looked alarmed at Jungkook.

“Is it that bad? That I found my soulmate?” he looked wounded and you quickly tried to clarify. “Nonono, definitely not bad, just...i am surprised” you looked hesitant. You didn’t know what to make of that information, on one hand you wanted to be happy for him. Not everyone thought like you about the soulmate bond. On the other hand you couldn’t fathom the idea that he may have found his intended love in life. The pain blossomed in your chest and you readily assumed the reason behind that being your aversion towards the concept.

“But what if….” Jungkook stopped. He looked unsure of himself and something pulled at your heartstrings. In an attempt to comfort him you placed your hand on his grasping it gently.

“What if, the soulmate doesn’t want me” he tried again, his voice meek. You gave him a sympathetic look, in a way you could relate to his worries. “There is no way your soulmate wouldn’t want you” you tried to ease his worries, your hand subconsciously tightening its grip on his. Jungkook didn’t respond looking lost in thought and for a moment you thought you had said the wrong thing when you felt his fingers intertwined with yours. The feel of his warmth combined with the softness of his hands cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The feeling so foreign to you, but not unwelcome.

“But what if I said my soulmate was you?” he tried again, his grip tightening, as if he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Your heart stopped, your mind trying to catch up with his words. Taking the risk, Jungkook slowly cupped your face. Leaning towards you until your lips were only one whisper away he stopped. His warm breath fanning over your face, it smelt sweet, tangy. Before you could process your thoughts bumped his lips onto yours in a timid touch. Once, twice, three times, his lips ghosted over yours.

You could not react, the surprise from his confession still wrecking havoc through your body. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his soft lips touch yours with a bit more conviction. You almost allowed yourself to melt into the kiss a small moan leaving the back of your throat. He tasted sweet, just like...you could not place the taste, and yet it seemed so familiar.

You jolted out of the trance pulling away from him entirely, almost sliding yourself on the opposite side of the corridor. Like a deer in headlights you observed his every move, ready to flee the scene if he got too close to you. “Y/N”, Jungkook tried to reach a hand towards you. You flinched away from him and he halted. You looked scared of him. He could feel his heart break in two at the sight of your distress.

“Y/N” he tried again but you would not have it. You were unable to listen to any reasoning, your fight or flight reaction at an all time high. “Please go” you managed to utter.

When he tried to approach you again you let out a sob, the emotions of your revelations catching up with you. “Please” you pleaded, looking at him in despair. Jungkook’s heart dropped. The look on your face told him you wanted him gone, and as much as it hurt him he would listen to you.

Giving you one last pained look he turned around on his heels and walked down the corridor, swallowed by the darkness of the apartment. When with a click of the front door you knew he was gone, and you broke down in tears.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Taehyung, fully awake, having heard the front door close and your sobs echoing through the apartment, rushed to your side.

“I fucked up” was the only thing you could mutter over and over again. Taehyung was confused. Looking around him trying to find something that may indicate the reason for your cries, he spotted the wine bottle by your leg. Alarmed, he picked it up. “Fresh notes of strawberries”....

“Y/N are you daft? This has strawberries in it!” he tried to pry your hands away from your face to check for any signs of swelling. Your incessant cries lessened at that. Taehyung could barely discern what you were saying and so instead, he hugged you tightly to his chest letting you cry it out.

“I think I know the taste that has been bugging me” a couple of days after that night, you were in the break room with Taehyung prepared to have your lunch break. You had been successful at avoiding Jungkook, and you had a strong suspicion that he had stayed out of your way on purpose. That lessened your worries, you didn’t know if you would be able to confront him about what had transpired between the two of you.

“Really? What, when and how?” you could tell Taehyung was trying to hide his excitement underneath his grin. You refused to give him more information on the subject, not yet ready to talk about it. But if you underestimated something, it was his ability to put two and two together. “Is it Jungkook?” you stopped dead in your tracks, your heartbeat picking up the pace. At your reaction Taehyung almost grinned, he was happy his two friends had discovered each other. His grin faltered at something behind you.

You tried denying it, telling him he was mistaken. but with the sweet taste of strawberries lingering on your lips, even you knew that there was no mistake.

“Uhh, Y/N, I have to rush, I forgot that I needed to send some documents over” he quickly got up and rushed out of the room. Your bewildered eyes followed his retreat only to come across the man that had just entered the break room. You gasped at the sight of his athletic frame dressed in the dark coloured suit he normally wore for work. He looked handsome.

“Jungkook” you acknowledged him with a nod. He stood there looking at you for a moment, a strange look on his face as if he was prepared to say something but then changed his mind at the last minute. Instead he mirrored your nod and headed towards the coffee machine.

He passed by you in an attempt to reach for the pods that were on the table behind you. To get to them he had to step around your still body. You could not move, still in a daze, your lips tingling from the kiss you two have shared earlier. Your hands were trembling and you tried your hardest to stay calm and not give away the mixed feelings raging through your body. You cleared your throat and looked away in an attempt to hide your blushing face from him. Jungkook took you in silently, he didn’t know what to make of your reaction. Earlier when he had kissed you, your lips moulding together, you pressed tightly against his form, hands raking through his hair. You seemed to be reciprocating the feeling but now, when you were acting like a deer caught in headlights, he was not so sure of himself anymore.

Cautiously he approached you, his gaze unfaltering, he was afraid that if he stepped over the line you would run away from him again. He didn’t know if his heart could take it.

He couldn’t imagine that if you’d figured it out you’d react to him like this. He was waiting for you to realise it was him. However, the blank look on your face and your stiff posture told him otherwise. The soulmate connection urged him to take you in his arms and take the pain away, to make it better. But you didn’t know yet it was him, and he debated whether or not he should tell you. His heart lurched in pain, he didn’t know how to approach the issue. Knowing himself he’d make a stupid comment which would drive you further away. So he settled for actions rather than words.

It felt like an eternity until he reached you, toe to toe, his hand hesitantly cupped your face. You couldn’t move, your breath coming into short pants, your heart flipping inside your chest. For a second you feared you would faint, but the warm touch of his hand kept you grounded and so you focused on that. Closing your eyes you leaned your head onto his hand soaking up the comfort. Even though you were apprehensive about Jungkook and your connection, he has been nothing but kind and understanding to you. His awkward demeanour paired with his confident looks, an endearing combination in your eyes. After that night you two spent together in the corridor of your apartment you understood very well why most women in your company fell in love with him. What you didn’t understand though, was why he would break their hearts like that. Thinking about the rumours once again your eyes snapped open and you pushed his hand away.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat. You needed to get your feelings off your chest otherwise you would implode. You wanted to make sure you were both on the same page. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken like any of the other women in the office. Your stomach lurched at that, the thought of him rejecting you like he did those women sending shooting pains through your whole body.

Jungkook’s hands stayed a few centimeters away from your face, his face morphing into anguish. But as soon as it appeared, it was instantly gone, replaced by a smile, the same heartfelt smile he gave you the day you met. The day you had signed your fate. The day the taste of what you could place now as strawberries had invaded your tastebuds. He waited for you to say something, he was not going to push you, but his gentle eyes told you he was going to listen to whatever you decided to tell him. Taking a deep breath in you decided to continue.

“I- am not sure how to put this into words, so I am going to just come out with it.” tears pooled into your eyes at the thought of what you were going to say. He nodded but you could tell he was anxious by the way his hand helplessly dropped to his side and started fiddling with his pants. You blinked the tears away but they just kept coming leaving a hot trail down your face. The pain of losing your parents resurfacing at the memories flooding your head.

“My parents, they uh, died” you stumbled over your words, finding it very difficult to get a grasp over your emotions. You took Jungkook’s silence as a sign to carry on, “my dad passed away in a car accident, after that, my mother she uh” a sob wrecked through your body and you couldn’t carry on. Watching as your whole body broke down in front of him Jungkook decided to throw caution out the window and steadily wrapped his arms around you. In an instant you relaxed, the warmth and the comfort provided by your soulmate embracing you calmed you down enough for you to carry on with your story.

“My mother, she died heartbroken three years after my father” you sniffled embarrassed at the snot you could see on his shirt. Trying to pull yourself away from him you found yourself nose to chest with him as he tightened his grip on you. You didn’t have the strength to fight against his hold.

“Jungkook,” you pleaded, slumping against him, your forehead resting on his warm chest. In that position you could hear his heartbeat, the strong thump reverberating through you. The knowledge that you were about to break that rhythm pained you. “I don’t want to have a soulmate.” A fresh wave of tears soaked through his shirt. Jungkook felt as if your sobs had not only penetrated the material but also his heart, the coldness that gripped him rendering him speechless.

Despite the unbearable ache that your words have caused him, he remembered that you were also suffering. He decided that his pain was irrelevant to yours, the soulmate bond that forged between the two of you pushing him to alleviate your sorrow and forget about his own.

“Y/N” his voice sounded foreign to him, the anguish seeping through. He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on you, trapping your arms in between the two of you. You knew you were being selfish, your hard words chipping away at his heart. Despite that he was being patient and understanding, lending you the last of his strength. “Don’t, please” was his last attempt at asking you not to crush him. A plea followed by a soft kiss on the top of your head, his own tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

His words pierced through you, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. It felt as if someone had placed a weighted lead over your heart. Your mind was fighting against the soul’s desire to mould together as one, to form that bond fully. But by doing so, you were fighting against the laws of the soulmate connection, the broken promise of being together forever caused you to feel agony like never before. Desperate, you managed to free your hands and wrap them around him, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back in an attempt to steady yourself. You let the pain course through you, letting Jungkook’s soft cries in your hair be a reminder of your self-serving fears. His breath was hot on the crown of your hair, his breath coming out in broken gasps and you finally understood.

This is what your mother had experienced. This is the pain she must have gone through when your father was gone. Only, you were voluntarily putting yourself and him through it.

You felt despicable, but most importantly, you were terrified. Thoughts running through your head, scenarios in which you and him were bonded and living a happy life, only for it to be swept from under you. You didn’t think you could bear that, but you knew that what you were doing now was not right either. There was no such thing as a bandaid when it came to a soulmate bond. You would suffer forever and it never got easier.

“Y/N, please talk to me.” Jungkook’s voice wavered but his tears had stopped. He was doing his best to stay strong for you. Burying your head into his inviting shoulder you inhaled his scent, it was something sweet. Sweet like that night when you kissed, that significant night when you realised he was yours and you were his. Trying to recall the happiness that you felt when you two kissed you whispered, “I’m afraid.”

Jungkook had never felt more helpless. Hearing you admit this felt even more painful than you rejecting the soulmate bond. He could do very little to alleviate your worries, he couldn’t promise you forever because he himself had no power over the future, but he could promise you that he would try his best to be there until it wasn’t possible anymore.

“I can’t promise you that we will last forever, but I can promise you that as long as we are alive and have a forever to fight for I will do my best to reach it” his soft words brushed through your hair, the hand on your back tightening its hold. Fresh tears spilled from your eyes, the hot trail competing with the warmth that was growing in your chest. His words were not enough to alleviate your worries, but they were enough to pacify the inner battle between your soul and your heart.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your shoulders, breaking your hold on him. With some distance now in between the two of you, it was easier to look at him. Your heart broke at the sight of the tears silently running down his face, a contrast to the small reassuring smile he was offering you. If not for the pain in his eyes you would have thought he was crying for you only. However, his eyes spoke of agony for two. The relationship that was meant to be, the relationship that your souls craved and you had power over. The understanding encouragement he was offering told you that he would take whatever you decided. If your decision was to not pursue this, he would accept it and never question it. With this in mind you took a deep breath in, your hands hesitantly reaching out and wiping away at the trail of tears.

“I am afraid” you stopped glancing away from him for a split second. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat anticipating your next words. You had the power to make him or break him, his heart in your hands. With your next exhale, you let all your worries out, your stance visibly relaxing.

“But I am not afraid to fight for a future forever, with you.”

Main Masterlist

#jeon jungkook fluff #bangtansummerbingo #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bangtanarmynet #bangtaninn #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #soulmate #soulmate au #angst #fic #junkook #bts fic #fiction

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agendratum · 4 years

Text

parties ruined by wei wuxian: ranked

(spoilers ahead!)

1. lantern ceremony (that counts as a party)

what was damaged:

- nie huaisang’s expensive lantern - jin zixuan’s pretty face - everybody’s mood

pros:

- ruined lantern was kind of lan wangji’s fault - ruined pretty face was kind of jin zixuan’s fault - resulted into a called off engagement (which was a good decision in the moment) - the party itself actually wasn’t ruined, the fight happened after it ended

cons:

- jiang yanli was sad - mianmian was disappointed - the whole thing with wei wuxian getting mad at jin zixuan and attacking him and jiang yanli and mianmian getting in between them kind of became a pattern that culminated into a very unfortunate event, but we don’t have to worry about that right now

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

0/10 that was an actually good party!

and the fact that it got slightly ruined by the end isn’t even really wei wuxian’s fault! good job!

2. we shot down the sun banquet

what was damaged:

- lan wangji’s mood - jin guangshan’s smugness - jiang cheng’s self-esteem

pros:

- actually it’s impossible to ruin a party for lan wangji because being at a party is already a ruined party for him - wei wuxian tried really hard not to ruin that party by drinking outside alone like an emo he is - jiang yanli got to voice her opinion on her own life, which isn’t something that happened a lot - fuck you, jin guangshan

cons:

- why do you have to be so rude to lan wangji, wei wuxian, please (i know why, but still) - everyone’s idea of wei wuxian being an arrogant, cocky boy who didn’t respect his sect leader was being solidified (that definitely wasn’t going to backfire later)

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

2/10 jin guangshan got fucked, so that’s a good enough party for me

also most of the people there were feeling pretty uncomfortable even without wei wuxian interfering, so does it really count

3. wen ning is back party

what was damaged:

- wei wuxian’s health - wen qing’s peace

pros:

- wen qing actually noticed wei wuxian’s problem with alcohol - for a moment it seemed like wei wuxian was too drunk to be depressed

cons:

- wei wuxian could never be too drunk to be depressed - wei wuxian was probably depressed - and slowly killing his health - and wen qing knew she couldn’t do much about it - but she was determined to try her best to help wei wuxian even if it killed her (oops)

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

3/10 it’s that type of a party that’s pretty nice in general, but then later you’re the only sober person left, and your friend that got too drunk starts crying and talking about all the terrible things happening in their life, but you can’t really do much about it, so you just hope that they will fall asleep soon enough and you’ll get a chance to finish cleaning in peace

so like… just a normal party

4. nie huaisang’s banquet

what was damaged:

- wei wuxian’s reputation - nie huaisang’s plans for the evening

pros:

- it prompted both jiang yanli and jiang cheng to try to talk with wei wuxian about whatever the hell was going on with him

cons:

- he’s a stubborn idiot so he kind of lied to their faces instead of talking about his problems - old sect leaders got opportunity to gossip about him - jin zixun got opportunity to be an asshole - nie huaisang didn’t get opportunity to hang out with his friend

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

4/10 that was lame as hell but not a total disaster

on nie huaisang’s scale tho it’s probably at least 8/10

5. post phoenix mountain hunt banquet

what was damaged:

- jin zixun’s smugness - a table - jiang cheng’s self-esteem (again) - everybody’s mood (again) - jin sect’s reputation (if only)

pros:

- jin sect was rightfully called out on their bullshit - everyone forgot the terrible time they were having before wei wuxian arrived and only remembered the terrible time they started having after he arrived - lan wangji got to enjoy his 10 seconds of thirst before everything went to shit

cons:

- most of the people there didn’t really notice jin sect being rightfully called out - they did notice wei wuxian threatening to murder people and black smoke coming from his flute - wei wuxian ruining jin guangyao’s parties kind of became a pattern and that wasn’t making jin guangyao any happier or less murderous

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

6/10 a disaster for sure, but at least no one died, right?

6. discussion conference at jinlin tai

what was damaged:

- qin su (in more ways than one) - jin guangyao’s peace - jin ling’s psyche - wei wuxian himself

pros:

- what happened to qin su can’t really be blamed on wei wuxian, but really we will never know - the truth came out - wei wuxian and lan wangji got to have an extremely romantic moment to everyone’s annoyance

cons:

- qin su fucking died - the truth only came out to wei wuxian and lan wangji - wei wuxian got stabbed by his own nephew, who thought that he was responsible for his parents’ death - jin ling was having a really bad time - jin guangyao basically didn’t have anything to lose anymore (that definitely wasn’t going to backfire later) - the whole cultivation world found out wei wuxian was back and they all wanted him to be dead again

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

8/10 only one murder happened! and not even because of wei wuxian (probably). but now someone had to pay for jin ling’s therapy

at least everything was going more or less accordingly to nie huaisang’s plan (let’s pretend he had one)

7. jin ling’s one-month celebration

what was damaged:

- jin zixuan - jin zixun - lan sect juniors - many sects' disciples - wei wuxian’s already not so bright future - wen ning’s already not so bright future

pros:

- technically didn’t ruin that party, as he didn’t even get to that party - didn't actually commit (some of) the murders himself, was set up

cons:

- nobody cared - many people died - his sister’s husband died - everything was kind of falling apart - that was the bad place

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

10/10 a double murder!

with an added bonus of a bunch of other murders. what fun!

bonus!

8. afterparty in nightless city

what was damaged:

- many cultivators - jiang yanli - wei wuxian - jiang cheng (in more ways than one) - lan wangji (in more ways than one)

pros:

- not all of the cultivators there were hurt or killed by wei wuxian (good!) - most of the people there were happy that wei wuxian died (good?..)

cons:

- people fucking died - some of the people there were extremely not happy that wei wuxian died - jiang cheng was left alone with a child on his hands - lan wangji was left alone with a child on his hands - you would think having so much in common after that they would at least have something to talk about - wrong, they haven’t talked to each other in 16 years

on a scale from an actually good party to a double murder:

100/10 when the only word that you can describe your party with is a “massacre”, that’s a bad sign

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #cql #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #jiang yanli #jin ling #wen qing #meta

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yniswaifu · 3 years

Text

1. Suna

You exit the booming nightclub through the emergency exit, wanting to escape the loud music. Nothing about it was YOU. And yet, here you are.

You see a tall shadow already occupying the other side of the wall, their shoulders hunched as if they were hiding their activity from the outside world. But well, what did you know. Everyone has stories – just like you did when you decided to take up your friend's advice for a 'good distraction'.

What's so good about it? You think as you close the door behind you, the music fading in the background.

After you're out in the open you see the person. It was a man. A very, very pretty man.

His eyes were downcast on the phone in his hand. The hair reflected the neon lights above his head, and the outfit – a hoodie and some sweats from what you could see in the dark alley if you squint made him look broad. From what you could make out in that split second checkout session, he had a great side profile.

He could have been a good eye candy were you not in a sour mood.

But not today handsome.

Sighing, you turn away. You were regretting everything. And the nightclub trip wasn't at the top of the list. You shuffle inside your jacket pocket, to reveal a pack of cigarettes. Again nothing about it was you. Then why were you doing it? Because it's a 'good distraction'.

"smoking is bad." you were in the middle of lighting the white tobacco stick when the voice spoke to you.

You stop midway, slowly lifting your eyes to see the possible eye candy looking at you with a blank face. His eyes were slanted, almost fox like. Heck, he almost resembled a fox. But boy was he attractive. And popular.

You weren't unfamiliar with sports. In fact, you quite enjoyed watching sports as a pass time. So this man, who was telling about smoking, Suna Rintaro himself, was no stranger to you.

But you weren't in a mood to either ask for an autograph or talk to anyone. If you were, you wouldn't have left your friend behind in the club to come here. So you certainly weren't going to talk to him.

Suna kept looking at you, expecting a reply perhaps. But what you did even shook you to the core.

You looked right in his eyes and took a smoke.

Of course, the plan backfired.

A rough round of cough threatened to leave your lips and you immediately turn to the other side, trying to be discreet about the failed mission. You were expecting him to laugh, or scoff, something remotely snarky, but there was no sound. Curious, you slowly turn back, peeping at Suna from under your lashes to see him look at you with...confusion?

"what is it?" you ask him, your voice barely audible.

Shaking his head, the six feet something fully turned towards your direction and stood straight, with his hands crossed.

"do you seriously have so much tragedy in your life that you'll resort to" he directs his head towards to the cigarette, "this?"

You looked at him baffled. Was this guy always this nice? As far as you remembered him, he always has a poker face. He didn't talk much during interviews either. But he was a great player, and the crowd cheered like crazy whenever he would block those super strong spikes. So what's with this extempore counselling session?

Laughter bubbled out of you, looking at the situation. Here you are, standing in the back alley of some nightclub, talking about life with a famous sportsman.

Suna waited for you to finish laughing. If anything, he kinda felt glad you laughed. Because the moment he saw you, and your eyes, he couldn't grasp the fact that someone could have such sorrow in them. He didn't even have to go under proper lighting to know that you were here to distract yourself. Including the pack of cigarettes you took out of your pocket. Suna was a sportsman, and health was something he always had to take care of. So he couldn't stand seeing someone else try to ruin their health just for some temporary relief. It was so not worth it.

You slump against the wall, your laughter dying down. He was right. You couldn't deny that. These things will only give you temporary satisfaction.

"I'm sorry." you say, smiling because you're suddenly high on adrenaline and pumped for this heart-to-heart. You don't know why, but you felt you could just go bare in front of this man. And he wouldn't say a thing. Moreover, you didn't have anything better to do. And it seemed like Suna didn't either because he too leaned against the wall, making himself comfortable.

"that's fine. I'm sorry too. Didn't mean to be so rude and abrupt." he says.

And he's polite, you think.

"nah. It's fine. By the way, I don't smoke."

"that I can see. So? Why did you do it?"

You look at Suna for a minute before looking to the front. "boy problems."

Before he could even say anything, you start laughing again. Adrenaline or not, you definitely seemed high on something.

"can you imagine? I'm resorting to these methods because some stupid person decided to dump me." you continue, your voice bitter.

Suna was silent. You turn to see him looking at you with an emotion you couldn't quite understand. He was frowning, but he didn't look mad or anything.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you ask him, a little flustered because come on, it was Suna Rintaro and he is staring at you so intensely.

"I don't understand..."

You tilt your head at this statement, confused. You expected him to roll his eyes and leave, which you didn't want, but he had better things to do than listen to you talk about this.

At least that's what you thought before his reaction.

"was it your fault that he broke up with you?" he asks after some time.

Was it? You don't remember. You always did everything, even went out of your way to make your partner happy. You sacrificed so much. Then why? Why did he break up with you and didn't even say the reason? What were you missing? Why couldn't you make him happy?

So many questions, and to think the break up happened over text. You hadn't even gotten a chance to resolve this because all you can think about is — distracting yourself from the issue will somehow make everything better.

Suddenly the vibe surrounding you both dropped certain degrees. The question that Suna hit you with brought the memories and words back like a big wave, and suddenly you felt like you were drowning. It was suffocating, overwhelming, and your hands shook beside you. But you didn't move. The therapist you consulted, in other words Google, had advised you to take deep breaths when you are hyperventilating. So you did just that.

You hadn't realized that during your moment, Suna had already come by your side, rubbing your back in a soothing motion, whispering words that you didn't quite catch. But it was something between 'breathe' and 'it's fine'. It's like your ears were blocking his voice and everything else.

Slowly, you return to your senses. It was so embarrassing, but you were grateful Suna caught you before you fell deeper.

"thank you" you tell him, moving his hand away.

Suna backs up the moment you stand straight, his hands beside him. "no problem. I'm sorry for asking it."

You sigh. "it's not your fault. I just...I'm sorry for this. You shouldn't see me like this."

"you couldn't help it. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."

You don't reply immediately. After a few deep breaths, you calm down, then look at Suna. His expression neutral, with hints of worry. "it's not something I did. Or...maybe I did." you decide to answer his question. "I...I don't know. It's just, I thought I could forget it. But you know what they say, first love isn't easy to forget."

Suna just nods in understanding. "I guess it isn't."

Both of you fall into silence. Suna observes that you need to calm down, and he felt he shouldn't pry more. First of all, the words he had spoken were something no one tells a stranger. And Suna wasn't the type to do it at all. In fact, this whole encounter was surreal to him. All he wanted was to call home but the restaurant across the street was filled with Bokuto's loud ass and he wanted some peace and quiet to talk. So he came here, in the quite place and then you exited the club. The rest is history.

"so..." he starts off, unsure what to say.

"so, I hope you have a goodnight Suna." you reply, smiling at him. This was enough for the prompt therapy session.

Suna's eyes widen for a moment before they go back to normal. He had almost forgotten he was a national player and that people will recognize him. He returns your smile and you were dazed by that smile. Well I'll be darned, is what went in your head.

Shaking off the thoughts, you wave at him before turning to return to the club and inform your friend that you want to go home. You were never a party person and you certainly ain't gonna change now.

That's when Suna interrupts you and goes, "do you...maybe wanna exchange numbers?"

What compelled him to do that? Even he himself didn't know. He asked for your number before even asking your name. He asked for your number when all he did was help you from passing out because he triggered bad memories.

But he wouldn't want to take back this moment. In this moment, your vulnerability resonated through him. It's not he's had first love or any serious relationship, but seeing you like this, made him curious and cautious. Do people really spiral down when they lose what they hold on to tightly? Do expectations hurt this much? Because he wouldn't know. He never expects much from anyone.

Perhaps it was some repressed saviour complex inside him, or the fact that you looked beautiful even when you were breathless. Or that when he held you up, he didn't feel like letting you go and was disappointed when you moved him away. He just felt a certain attraction towards you. It didn't hurt to act upon that feeling right?

You stop in your tracks. The gears in your brain turn, and you went into a deep thought. Finally, you look at the hopeful guy in front of you.

"sorry Suna. I really appreciate you talking to me, but I can't do this. I'm still not over him." you say, your voice solemn.

A flicker of disappointment passes his eyes, you notice. You felt bad for doing this. But you had to. Because from what you saw tonight, Suna didn't deserve someone like you. He was a great guy, who should go for a great girl.

That's why you had to do this. But you also wanted to be clear about how you reciprocated the attraction. The timing is wrong. So you walk up to him, and place your hands on his cheeks. "I need to get over him before I come to you. Because you are more than just a random stranger at this point. I mean, you saw me at my worst and it's not even been an hour since I met you. And if we start this, we do it the right way. So I can't just brush you off just like that. That's why I'm asking you – will you wait for me?"

Your words were sincere, but does Suna believe that? Not really. For him, it was a clear no. In a nice way.

Nodding, he looks away, probably regretting this with every bone in his body. But your words still held onto him like an anchor. How long did he have to wait for you? His whole life? Surely you didn't expect him to do that. So you thought of a better way to reject him. And guess what, it worked.

"right. Have a goodnight then." he says and walks off hurriedly. You watch his figure disappear off the corner, and you close your eyes shut to assure yourself.

This was for the best.

***

Suna waited.

He said he wouldn't, he said he will do everything in order to forget about you. But he waited. Somewhere in him he hoped you actually asked him to wait, and that you were going to come to him, with a smile reserved only for him. That you would go lengths for him and that he will replace the first love you had.

So he waited. He was glad he did.

Because there you were, standing in front of him. Your face looked better, healthier, and you were smiling. Your eyes that once held sorrow and pain was looking content in this very moment.

He walked up to you, his breath visible in the cold winter evening. It had been almost six months when he last saw you. He never expected to see you standing outside his apartment complex when he was going to the convenient store to get groceries. And you had changed so much in that time. Beautiful nonetheless.

As soon as he was close enough to see your orbs soaking in his figure, Suna slowly exhales. "how did you know where I live?"

You laugh at his question. Well, he ain't wrong. You did pop out of nowhere.

"I have my ways." you say, a sly smirk forming on your lips.

Gosh, how much you had changed. You're even making jokes now.

"I asked my friend. She works for the paparazzi." you answer truthfully after some time.

Suna's eyes widen. "dang. Then I better stay away. Who knows where you are hiding your friend now." he jokes, looking around.

You giggle at his words when you see him looking at you with a soft expression. You know what he was thinking, but chose not to say anything. You stepped closer to him, your fingertips almost brushing with his. Your breaths mixed together as you continued to stare at each other.

Suddenly Suna's eyes flash with worry. "are you sure you're over him?"

You knew he'd be worried. You wanted to make sure you finish everything you held onto before moving forward. So you went back, and talked it out with your ex. Truth was, both of you had fallen out of love. But you realize that much later. And when you did, you felt terrible to push away the only guy you saw a potential future with. So you got to work. You fixed your life, fixed your relationships, and fixed your head space. When you felt yes this is it, you asked your friend for Suna's address. Of course, she was curious at first. But when you answered that you like him, without any explanation to be exact, the friend didn't even bother asking for details. She knew how much the previous relationship hurt you, and seeing you moving on was enough reason to give you Suna's address.

"yes. I have no lingering feelings left. I never did actually. But I knew I had to fix myself before I move forward. So that's what I did. And here I am." You shrug.

The man in front of sighs in relief. Suddenly, he rests his forehead on your shoulders, fingers intertwined with yours. "took you long enough." his voice but a loving whisper.

You tighten the grip on his fingers, his cold hands in your warm ones. "but you waited."

A smile forms on his lips. "but I waited."

I'm going through an Inarizaki phase guys. Please bear with me. Also, can you tell I have a special place for Suna in my heart? Because I do. I felt Suna needed a serious scenario, one where he's actually mature and don't just look bored with life. I mean, grown up Suna would definitely be more in touch with his emotions. Yeah. So I did that. It's a bit on the sad side, but the ending is happy enough I guess? I'm sorry if you didn't feel like it. I tried.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #suna imagines #suna x reader

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neovisioned · 4 years

Text

♡ꜜ out of my league﹫mark lee

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

pairing : mark x reader (f)

genre : tiny angst, fluff, smut with some plot, bestfriend!mark, college!au, best friends to lovers.

warnings : weed, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, praising.

word count : +4k

synopsis : your best friend Mark Lee tells you all the things he believed, you were always out of his league.

Mark Lee has been in love with the same person for as long as he could remember. It's something he took some time to understand, days to wrap his head around.

Where do you draw the line between deep friendship, platonic love between friends and a connection running deeper, a love that seeks more than the label "friends" ?

Laying on your bed, his right hand throws a tennis ball in the air, easily catching it while his left hand hold the rolled up paper between two fingers.

It's a shame, the smoke he's blowing out of his lungs is probably sticking to your bed sheets, ones he noticed you washed the moment he dropped his body on your bed.

Soft rose fragrance, traces of an exotic fruit he can not pin point, though Mark is sure he could recognise the perfume of your detergent between thousands of others.

Heavy sigh, smoke escaping his lips like a dragon dissolving in the air, heavy eyelids closing in front of his brown irises. He really should stop smoking, Mark thinks. It's a black hole in his wallet, it is not that good for his health and fuck, does it makes his mind wonder.

Correction, Mark should stop smoking around you. Because, whenever he does, his mind might search in the deepest, darkest folds of his brain for a new topic, he'll always, forever, come back to you.

Mark Lee has been in love with you for as long as he can remember.

It's something he's been aware of for some years now. It's crazy how he can pinpoint the moment his mind clicked, the moment he put two and two together. He can still visualise the moment his heart went from a friendship he'd die for to a love he'd die for, one so strong he, himself, was dumbfounded by his years long blindness.

It happened right before prom, second to last year of high school. Mark Lee remembers when you stepped out of your father's car (he doesn't trust any other boy but Mark, he insisted on driving you to your school's dance).

Pretty deep blue dress, it's his favourite colour on his favourite person. You did not do anything special to your hair, only added a bit more makeup. Though, it's not your appearance that made everything click, you've always been pretty, it wasn't the first time your friend noticed.

Rather, it's when your date shows up. It's when one of the school's popular kid shows up and makes you dance that he understands. He wants it to be him so bad. He wants to make you twirl, he wants to make you laugh.

Mark understands it isn't just him being mad that you're not answering your phone, it's love. Jealousy, green monster eating away at his heart when he wonders if you're still with him, it's a hand tightly wrapping around the muscle when he wonders if you're going to fall into someone else's arms.

Mark remembers it, it was five years ago. Late summer night where he stayed on his phone for too long, love sick kid scrolling through pictures and pictures of his prom waiting for a text from his best friend.

He didn't say anything, maybe Mark was a bit of a coward, and you were out of his league.

“Mark ?”

From all the things you best friend loves about you, if he had to pick, it'd be the way you say his name. No matter the intonation, no matter the context, the men loves the way it sounds coming out of your lips.

He thinks he won't ever get enough of it, it's intoxicating, makes him think he has the prettiest name after your own.

Eyelids slowly open, tired smile stretching his lips. You're steading in front of your bed, freshly showered, hand turning your small projector on.

“Hm ?”, he doesn't bother answering with words, humming softly. His head turns to the side, following your movements around the bedroom he knows like the back of his hand.

“This one or...That one ?”, you ask, playing with your remote to show your best friend two animation movies you both saw too many times.

“First one.” You've noticed over time, his voice always gets deeper when he smokes, brown eyes always get a shade darker.

“Alright, baby chose.”

Ah, correction. If there's one thing that Mark loves, it's the pet names you give him. So natural, honey filled, he wished you meant them.

Baby, babe, darling. He loves it all, he wants it all, he wants you all.

Unaware of his thoughts, you finally crawl up next to him, the shirt you're wearing as your pyjamas riding up, Mark takes another hit at that.

Familiar sound of Netflix resonates in your room as you take yet another remote and turn your lights off, before gesturing towards your friend. You're not an avide smoker but, you infale the smoke a few times before giving the rolled up paper back to the brunette.

Mark knows what's about to happen, whenever your movie night has a bit of green, the movie gets long lost behind while you two would rather speak about anything and everything. After years of friendship, you'd think you two would've took and turned every subject under the pale moon but, Mark definitely did not expect this.

Hands free, he crushes the cigarette on the special painted bowl you have for him, Mark also loves the way you have some things for him on your house as if he lives with you.

Your right hand is quick to find his left hand, an old habit your have. Your fingers stretch against his own, comparing sizes like kids flirting, swinging your hands from left to right. Your arm easily gets tired by holding your hand up in the air like this, but the warmth of Mark's hand and the way his fingertips rough by his guitar strings brush against your palm every now and then feels like home.

“How do you know when you're in love ?”, your voice's soft, mindlessly humming to the song in the animation movie Mark chose. Is that the topic you decided to bring up...? Mark's hand stays still for a moment, following your own hand's movement as he thinks for a while.

“Don't give me that “You just know” bullshit.”, you mumble when he stays quiet for a bit too long.

“But I think you do, just know. I think it's different for everyone.”, he starts, speech slightly altered by the green herb intoxicating his mind.

“How is it... For you ?”, you ask. See, you know Mark had some crushes here and there, but you don't think he has ever been in love or, at least, he never told you.

“It's... Loving the way they say your name, wanting to be with them as much as possible. It's... Craving to be as close as possible.” and unconsciously, his fingers wrap around yours.

“It's finding happiness in their joy, sharing their sadness. It's small things like memorising the perfume they wear and what food they dislike.”

The brunette stays quiet for a moment, heavy eyes look upon your locked hands in the darkness, chest light, mind foggy.

“It's them feeling like home.”, he finally says.

Mark smiles to himself, you do feel like home, you make everything feel like home. From the way you have a pillow and the way you keep a toothbrush for him, to the way you always feel so warm and safe.

Thankfully for you, the lack of light hides the small blush creeping on your cheeks.

Mark doesn't know, you've been in love with him for years, though you've been aware for a bit longer. His confession takes your breathe away with a heavy sigh, you squeeze his hand.

“I was in love with you.”

Was, you take the safe route as the words fly out of your mouth before you can even understand. Even if he's shocked, you can play the past card.

“I was in love with you too.”, silence doesn't last long as Mark let's out as well, eyes on the movie even though he isn't paying any attention : his favourite line just played and he didn't even let a giggle out.

The words make your ears ring, skin burn red, heart beat against your ribcage. He was too...? He was. He isn't anymore.

“Why didn't you tell me ?”, you breath out, turning to the side. You use an elbow to support your body, you dare look at your best friend's face.

It's crazy how he still have the still has the same baby face you've always known, the same pretty eyes and the same smile, his jaw got sharper with years and voice deeper and yet, he's still the same. He's home.

Mark, him, doesn't dare look at you for a second. Before he does, soft eyes looking directly into yours. Why didn't he tell you ? He knows why, he has a list of reasons why and another list of reasons why he should've told you he'd rather not think about right in this moment.

“You're out of my league.”, he breathes out. You can read your best friend like a book, you know he is not joking when he tells you so. And yet, you can't wrap your head around the idea.

“I— What, no !”, you're almost whispering and screaming at him at the same time, getting up to sit on your knees. He was out of your league, he has always been, you never—.

“You were—. You are out of mine.”, you tell him, almost dumbfounded. For a split second, it feels like someone's finally giving you the dream you've always wanted and, the moment it touches your hands, it slips through your fingers.

Can you be nostalgic of something you've never even experienced ? And yet, your mind grabs onto a single thing. Present tense, you're still out of his league, he still thinks so.

In his semi-high state, the brunette chuckles out, as dumbfounded.

You wonder if there are feelings still unknown to humans because this, the pull you're feeling at the strings of your heart and the lump in your throat combined to the angering heat taking over your body aren't emotions you're used to feeling at the same time.

“Hey, what's wrong ?”, your best friend asks, an arm wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. You're sure it's supposed to be for hug, one you'd happily accept if you weren't in this very situation. Both forearms stop your body from colliding against his, Mark frowns.

In another situation, he'd be able to read you like an open book and, maybe he's thankful he isn't completely sober right now. If he wasn't slightly high, he'd be as red.

“Are you...Are you still in love with me ?”, you ask. It's almost a whisper, one Mark is sure he would've caught if it wasn't for the almost silent scene going on in the long forgotten movie.

Is he still in love with you ? Yes. His mind screams a loud, obnoxious yes. His body screams another loud and obnoxious yes and yet. Yet, Mark stays silent for what feels like minutes. He knows he is, he's sure of it, he doesn't know if he should say it.

Yes, yes, yes.

“Yeah.”

To be in love with your best friend, to confess your love after years, decades, even.

Such a simple word and yet, it hangs in the air, you can almost make it out in the slight darkness of the room. When Mark has the ability to put words on how he feels, you can't put anything on what goes on in your brain and body when he says the simple truth. You think your heart might fall out right into your best friend's hand, if he did not already have it. Your mind twist the word again and again just to find a fault, a break, a rupture.

There isn't none, he's in love with you.

There's another few seconds where you stay silent. You decide actions speak louder than words. Where Mark pulled you into a hug, you pull him into a kiss you've been craving for years.

Carnal need sleeping deep in both your minds, it doesn't need much to be awakened, burning a fire louder than hell's. Your lips touch his. Its shy, hesitant but, when Mark's arm tighten around your neck, no words need to be spoken.

The sweet, innocent, childlike kiss turns desperate in matter of seconds. Your best friend pulls you closer, closer, closer. He catches your leg between his, pushes your chest against his to the point where you can feel his heart hammering.

Lips move in harmony, common rhythm is quickly found and, you whine the moment he pulls away.

“Tell me.”, he breathes out against your lips, it's a desperate plea for something he had been waiting to hear, something he thought he'd never hear. “Say it.”, it's demanding, greedy. You give in easily.

“I'm in love with you.”

There's a weight pulled out of your chest, you'd chant it again and again if you could. You'd scream in if you could, you'd breathe it against his skin.

The brunette pulls you into a bruising kiss, he pours his soul out, hand cupping the back of your neck.

If this is a dream, Mark is determined to not let it go. Using his body at his advantage, positions are reversed, the brunette quickly towards over you. You switched you could turn the light back on but, the colourful lights of the movie dance against his jawline and shine against his wet lips, you decide your best friend looks like a painter's muse.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you.”, he breathes pretty words against your skin, taking his lips from your mouth to your jaw. It's loving, deep kisses, each to mean something.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about being more to you, wished we were more.”

More, more, more. You want more too, you need more too. You refuse to let go now.

“We can be, we can.”, it's frantic. You cup his face with your hands, bringing him closer. “Spent nights thinking about what we could be.”

It makes flowers bloom in his chest, he isn't able to take his lips away from your skin. The tip of his nose digs in your cheek, he inhales deeply. Oh, how he loves the soap you use.

“What did you see ?”, he asks, lips peppering kisses down your neck, hand gripping your shirt. You're quick to pull it up above your hips. First wanting to completely pull it off your body, it seems the brunette isn't patient enough.

His lips leave your neck to your tummy, butterfly kisses here and there until he stops to your panties.

“Us. Together. Living tog—.”

Your sentence's quickly cut off by your best friend, maybe a lot more now, pressing his tongue flat against the fabric of your panties.

If you weren't aware of how wet you were getting, you sure were now.

“Living together, yeah ?”, he asks, bringing his face closer to yours again right after disregarding his shirt somewhere. There's a few seconds where you pose, shamelessly taking in the men's figure.

Forehead against yours, his digits run along the line of your underwear. He's as nervous as you are, as shaken up as you are yet, you two have never been more certain of one thing that doesn't need to be said anymore.

Mark bites down on his lip, you almost hear tje mechanism in his head twisting and turning to find the right way to ask you.

You beat him at it anyways, nodding as your arms wrap around his neck.

There's one thing you'll never tell him, you spent night dreaming about a future and other were filled with thoughts of his fingers.

The guitar player had pretty hands, even prettier when they wrapped around the neck of his guitar or when he picked as some strings.

“'was too scared to tell you.”, he says and, you'd tell him you know. You know exactly how it feels, the fear of rejection by the one you've know you're entire life. You'd tell him it doesn't matter now that you now if you could.

His fingers stop you from articulating right, index and middle finger greedily collecting the wetness between your folds, the brunette doesn't wait much longer before pushing two digits in.

“I—Mark.”, there it is, a moan of his name that intoxicates Mark more than any other drug. Pupils grow wide, ears greedy to hear more. It's him, him managing to make you moan so softly in the dead of the night, him that has you wrapped around his finger.

“Fuck, say my name again.”, it's another desperate plea, say his name again so he knows it isn't a vivid dream he's going to wake up from, say his name until it's the only thing rolling out of your tongue.

You easily oblige when he starts moving his fingers, slowly yet, in a way that quickly had you gasping for air.

There's nothing rough in his actions, expect from the way his teeth gaze at the skin of your neck before softly biting down just to sooth to spot with his tongue afterwards.

It's agonising, like he wants to make sure he maps out your body to remember it perfectly after tonight. His fingers curl and drag against your walls, he remembers how and where.

His free hand creeps under your raised shirt, quickly finding your chest as his mouth finds your again.

There, he catches every sweet sound you make like he doesn't want any body else to hear them, tongue tastes yours as they lazily battle.

“Shit, baby. Just like that, god.”, when you think Mark couldn't get any better, his fingertips brush against a spot that has your hips raising up, slowly rocking against his hand.

“Right there ?”, you nod frantically as he does it again and again, lazily fingering you whilst he lets your hips grind against his digits.

“So fucking pretty.”, it's a murmur once he detaches his lips from your own, wet and red by the exchange.

It's not the first time Mark calls you pretty but at this very moment, it's different.

His wrist twist the right way just as he's about to pick the pace up and the familiar feeling grows alongside the flower blooming in your chest as Mark whisperes sweet nothings into your ear.

He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, it has his cock throbbing in his sweats. Carnal desire to feel you wrapped around him as his fingers speed up until you come undone around them.

It's a mess of his name and profanities you hope your neighbours aren't hearing.

“Want more, want you.”, you babble once you come down from your high, sweat collecting around your hairline, chest irregularly raising up and down.

When Mark seems to take too long to process your words, you take matters into your own hand.

A moment, Mark struggles to find his words and the other, his back hits the bed with a soft gasp.

He's quick to raise with his elbows, almost having whiplash when you sit down on his lap after taking off your ruined and soaked panties.

“Let me help you with that.”, there's a slight shyness in your voice Mark decides he'd die for when your clumsily work on the strings of his grey sweats.

Unspoken words, soft silence when you look into his eyes and help him push the fabric down his thighs. The air is thick, your heart beats harder and harder, your chest swells when Mark pulls you closer by your hips.

“I've been in love with you.”, he starts as you raise, lining your core with his hard member, one your eyes lingered on before he opened his mouth. There's a pause, your lips part as to say something when you slowly sit down, but no sound comes from your mouth when Mark's leaking head pushes inside.

“For so— so fucking long.”, he uses the last bits of air in his lungs to let it out, voice cracking when you sit inch by inch.

You wonder how you went so long without telling him, telling him you love him feels too good to take it back or ever again. There's a slight part of you wondering where you'd be right now if you told him sooner but you're quick to push it away.

Both hands cup his face as you bring him closer for a kiss as you fully settle on his lap, though the exchange doesn't last long. There's a beautiful groan coming from the men in front of you just as you moan out from the sensitivity, the fulness.

Mark's red lips fall open the moment you start moving up and down on him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit like he forces himself to look at you as you ride him. But, when his groans turn into moans, the brunette hides his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightly wrapping around your waist.

You don't think your can be any closer, chest against chest, your mouth to his ear as he mumbles about how you were made for him.

Up and down, up and down, your legs start burning but you keep moving on top.

“Fuck, I love you.”, it slips out when his hips meet yours halfway, not that you can say it, you swear you won't stop doing it at any given occasion.

Mark answers my sucking on your neck, probably drawing blood as he more boldly snaps his hips against yours.

You find the same desperation as when he was kissing you, carnal need wanting to be met, he fucks into you just like he means it, switching between deep and slow to fast and short snaps.

For the second time, you feel it tighten, knot threatening to burst at any moment. If you aren't moaning, your mouth hands silently open and thankfully, Mark can tell you're getting close by the way you're clenching around him.

“You're doing so good, so so good for me.”, voice almost unrecognisable, the way you can feel every vein and the way he pulse tells you he's as close, if not more.

“Come with me.”

After years of tuning your body to his voice, it follows the command almost immediately, there's a few seconds where the brunette snaps his hips, slowly, deeply, right before letting a draw out moan against your neck.

It's the last thing you hear, the way he moans you name breathlessly against your skin before you follow right behind, coming right around him like he hoped so.

Moans and body against body sound abruptly stop for heavy breathing and soft whines, you blink a few times, forehead against Mark's baked shoulder.

He smells like the apple shampoo he almost wears, he feels like home when his arms tightly wrap around your body and rock from side to side, almost lolling you to sleep. He feels safe, familiar, comfortable.

And, right before you fall deep into sleep, you hear him slightly chuckle at his second favourite movie line.

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