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bosbas · 5 months

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Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you.

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently.

But the truce didn’t last.

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room.

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone.

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight.

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room.

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady.

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink.

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke).

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him.

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately.

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window.

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you.

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision.

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway.

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say.

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say.

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you.

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger.

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you.

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you.

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated.

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest.

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose.

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose.

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you.

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand.

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?”

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously.

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do.

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words.

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.”

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter.

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball.

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him.

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him.

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him.

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier.

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize.

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained.

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle.

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you.

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue.

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you.

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned.

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again.

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face.

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways.

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip.

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things.

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you.

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point.

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter.

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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seeingivy · 4 months

Text

middle name

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part linked here

all you can do is stare.

there’s the smallest hint of gray hairs mixed in with his natural color. his hair is longer, but it’s still the same color. he has the faintest smile lines near his eyes and that small wisp of a beard that he used to always sport is long gone.

he looks younger. what you assume is his youngest daughter is wearing a sparkly green bracelet. green was always sammy’s favorite color. they both seem to have his nose – though that’s really the only resemblance they bear, since they almost entirely take after the lady at their side.

she had to be younger than him, a willowing black dress clinging lovingly to her figure. she had the same smile lines and that short haircut that you find young moms always sported, with three stacked silver chains and a glittering diamond on her finger.

you wonder if she smells like vanilla like your mom does.

“don’t react.”

you turn to your left to find sammy at your side, sukuna and yuuji hovering in the background with matching hazel eyes filled with concern. you shake your head – throwing away the image of their picture perfect smiles – as you focus on sammy, mostly on the fact that her upper lip is trembling.

sammy was always the favorite.

“what did you say?” you ask.

“don’t react.” sammy repeats.

you pause, mulling over the thought.

“okay.” you respond.

“yeah? because we can’t give that asshole the satisfaction. he has no right barging in here the way he just did.” sammy seethes.

you give her a nod, before she takes her side next to you on the wall, the four of you leaning against the wallpaper. sukuna slithers his hand into yours, offering you a smile that you don’t return, before focusing back on the four of them in the living room.

it annoyed you – that you didn’t have enough time to really consider what the best course of action would be. not reacting, you suppose you could understand the appeal. of showing him that you were above him, that he didn’t even warrant a response.

but deep down, you wondered if that would bother you the day after next. if you would be standing in the shower, rinsing the soap out of your hair, and somehow come up with the right thing to say, that would perfectly encapsulate whatever it was that you were feeling.

though you suppose that’s easier said than done. you can barely put words to whatever it is that’s forming in your chest.

you watch as he talks to sukuna’s old basketball coach. so loudly animated as he chats – about how the property values are better two towns over and how the school district is better for the girls. you wonder if the coach thinks it’s offensive. you wonder if he ever considered that you and sammy needed to switch to a better school too.

and it happens in a split second – your dad catching the sight of the four of you – before lifting off the couch and closing the distance between you. yuuji shoots you a weary glance as he gives the four of you a bright smile, before clearing his throat.

you catch a slight whiff of the lemon smell as he walks up, though the lingering scent of smoke you remember gone all together.

“sukuna. is that you?”

you look over at sukuna, watching as he swallows hard, before clenching his jaw.

“yes.”

you watch as he frowns, before pressing one of his hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry for your loss, kid.” he states.

“sure. thanks.” sukuna responds, rather stiffly.

you can tell that your dad finds the situation uncomfortable – being treated so blandly by the kid he watched grow up, a kid that he knows could surely be more expressive than that – as his eyes flicker over to you and then back to sukuna.

“your dad told me you studied abroad in europe. is this a pretty girlfriend you brought back?”

you bite down so hard on your cheek that all you taste is metallic blood pouring out of the side of your mouth. the implication makes all of you seethe.

that he still talked to people in town. that sukuna’s dad had known his whereabouts, probably for years. and worst of all, that he didn’t recognize you.

“what?” sukuna hisses.

your dad turns over to you, eyes bright, as he holds his hand out. you can feel a sensational burning in the back of your eyes.

“he always used to brag about how his son was studying with the greats. i’m mr. l/n. i’ve known sukuna since he was little.” he states, holding his hand out.

you swallow down the lump of bile, before extending your hand out to him, unsettled by the freezing cold feeling.

that was in no way what mr. itadori said. and he didn't know sukuna, only briefly, when he was little, before he ran away. and you know exactly who he is – far too well.

“nice to meet you.” you mumble.

“take care of this one, okay? he’s a tough one, but we all need a little love sometimes.” he jokes, lightly tapping sukuna on the shoulder.

you watch as he gives sukuna a lingering smile, before shuffling over two steps to where sammy is. sukuna places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes boring into yours – like he’s trying to beckon for your attention – as you watch the two of them.

“hi sammy girl.” he whispers.

you watch as sammy’s eyes water. sukuna watches as you clench your jaw.

“hi dad.” she whispers.

so much for not reacting.

you wonder if you would have broken just as fast if he recognized you. though you suppose you’ll never know, because he didn’t.

it’s a long list of things you’ll never know. the questions that bother you at night – the ones that expose that deep rooted rot that festered in your brain – seem to come to the surface for the first time, in broad daylight.

when did he fall out of love with your mom? when was sukuna going to fall out of love with you? why does he have such a distaste for you? if you were more polite like sammy, would he have stayed? if you screamed a little louder, would the begging have worked?

“i wanted to tell you something.”

you watch as he slings his hand around sammy’s shoulder, squeezing hard, before pointing to the two little girls that are seated on the couch, the two of which were making a mess of mrs. itadori’s coaster set. you wonder what she’d think fo all of this, if she wasn’t so preoccupied.

“those are my girls. claire and molly.”

you watch as sammy scrunches up her nose, her fists clenched into little balls at her side.

“molly was born a year ago. she’s a little shy, but she loves music. but claire, claire’s the exact opposite. headstrong, strong-willed. exactly how a big sister should be.”

“so?” sammy asks, her voice dripping with attitude.

he shakes his head.

“what i mean is that my girl claire reminds me of you. my first girl. so much so, that…well. claire and molly are real special to me. but you, my sammy girl, are always going to be the person who made me a father. that’s why i made claire’s name claire samantha.”

you watch the tears spill from sammy’s eyes, the most bitter contempt in her eyes, as she turns to him, wiping away the stray.

the questions return. what festers in someone to breed such cruelty? what horrors could you and sammy had exacted in your past life to deserve it? how much pressure does it take before something cracks?

would sammy ever get over the fact that she had basically, for all intents and purposes, been replaced? which one is worse – not warranting recognition or just enough to be traded out for the shinier new model?

“thanks dad. that’s real kind of you.” she mutters, crossing her hands over her chest before leaning back against the wall.

you watch as his face falls, albeit halfheartedly – the clear inclination that he didn’t really mind that the statement didn’t land as he intended – before he turns back to the three of you and gives you an awkward smile.

“family stuff.” he mutters.

he disgusts you.

“well, i’ll take my leave. molly’s about to start fussing. i’m very sorry for your loss again, boys.”

you watch as he walks off, retreating back to the couch and picking up claire – claire samantha – before you feel sukuna’s lips on your temple, his hands rubbing circles into your side. yuuji’s at sammy’s side, offering her his pocket square which she takes.

“oh shit.” sammy mutters.

“what?” you ask.

“he’s going to the patio, where mom is.”

you clear your throat, turning on your heel to move, before sammy reaches for your elbow.

“it’s better if you stay here. you don’t want to make things worse when he realizes it’s actually you.” sammy responds, before walking off towards the direction of the room.

sukuna watches as you step back, cursing the fact that sammy, for the most part, always seemed to have a horrible way with words, as he reaches for your hand.

he knows what she meant. that whatever reaction your mom was going to warrant would get infinitely worse when she realized that your own father wasn’t able to recognize you at first glance.

but she didn’t need to say it like that, sinking words placing the blame on you.

“she didn’t mean it like that.” yuuji states.

sukuna watches as you look over at yuuji, face blank, as you nod. he can see that you’re picking at the scab from the shot glass a few days prior on your hand, but you sidestep too fast before he stick his hand in between yours and make you stop.

“i know.” you respond.

it stings.

“i’m just going to take a minute. i’ll be back.” you respond.

you drag your feet as fast as they can take you to sukuna’s room, before shutting the door behind you, quick and fast breaths heaving out of your chest as your vision blurs. sukuna’s voice is quiet, muffled by the wood.

“hey. i’m on the other side when you’re ready for me, okay pretty girl?”

you sit in sukuna’s room for two hours, watching the sun sink down into the horizon from his window, watching as people trail in and out of the front door from below. it’s a pretty sunset – a vibrant mix of purple, blue, and pink – with the clouds swirling beneath.

if sukuna’s dad was a different type of guy, you’d almost think it was a sign from him. that sweet solace that people felt – seeing their loved ones in the beauty of nature.

though, you’d figure he’d be more of a hurricane or a tornado, wrecking havoc to everything he touched, as opposed to a pretty sunet that shed light.

sitting at the windowsill is the first time you realize that from sukuna’s vantage point, he’s always had a perfect view of your bedroom window. it’s not exactly level, so you assume that he was probably never able to see much, except for if your light was on or off and if your curtains were pulled.

you wonder how often he stared at it.

you find one of his sukuna’s old hoodies and pull it over your dress, before climbing into his sheets and pressing your face into his pillow. it smells faintly of his shampoo, the smell so sweetly comforting, as you feel your eyes swell up, the choking feeling in your throat unbearable.

the sounds that leave you are embarrassing, but luckily, you’re the only one who can hear them.

[sammy]: mai came to get me. let’s talk tomorrow okay?

the typing bubble appears, before disappearing. and after a few minutes, a second text followers.

[sammy]: i love you.

you wonder if that complicated, infected part of your brain that seemed to always cultivate some type of disgust for sammy, even when nothing really happened, was a part that you got from your dad.

you’re almost positive that it is. and it bothers you that it somehow feels like it’s something so fundamental, almost biological, that she’ll always rub salt into a wound that you can’t even heal.

you turn your phone off instead.

“are you okay? your mom mentioned that you went upstairs pretty abruptly, said you needed a minute.”

sukuna looks up to find your mom standing there, two ice cold bottles of water in her hands, before she plops down on the carpet next to him, hiking her knees to her chest. the usual picture of perfect hair is astray, the front stands pulled out, and sukuna absentmindedly wonders if you get your hair pulling habit from her.

he doesn’t respond. only because what he said was a lie.

not entirely at least. it was true that he needed a minute, it was just an obstruction of truth that he really needed to take that minute for you.

sukuna notes that she doesn’t mind the silence that much – not only because it’s something that she was well versed in, the mere fact that sukuna didn’t really like to talk when it came to things like this – and instead changes the subject.

“has she come out yet?” she asks.

“no. did yuuji tell you what happened?” sukuna responds.

she smiles, leaning her head back against the rungs of the stairs.

“you missed quite a show downstairs.”

“what?”

she laughs, before reaching up to mess with the ends of the strand closest to her ear.

“he walked out onto the patio with his wife, cindy he said her name was, because he wanted to offer his condolences. your mom responded by slapping him across the face.”

sukuna wishes he was there to see it. or do it himself.

“he was about to start yelling but that’s when sammy came out. i got the gist of what happened before, because sammy basically dragged him out on his ear, giving him a choice set of words about how he can’t gives his new daughter the same names as his old ones, and that he wasn’t her father, no matter how much he deluded himself into thinking that he was.”

sukuna watches as she pauses, taking a shaky breath.

“he told sammy that he wouldn’t really want to be their father anyways, which is why he left, and yuuji punched him in the face.”

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose.

“i really did miss a show, didn’t i?” he mutters.

“nothing we aren’t used to. i’d think hell froze over if there wasn’t some type of drama at this thing. though, i’d expect violent dramatics from you, not yuuji.”

sukuna shakes his head.

“he came up and talked to all of us before you. he didn’t even recognize y/n, he…he thought she was some girlfriend i brought home from studying abroad. and i’d almost understand it – she was really little when she left – but there’s no excuse. she looks the exact same.” sukuna offers.

sukuna looks over, seeing the same bridge of your nose mirrored in her face, before looking back at the faded paint chipping off the wood of his bedroom door. he wished that he had yuuji’s horrible habits of hoarding snacks in his room, just so that you weren’t sitting in there crying.

“do you have the key?”

“what?”

“the key to the door.” she states.

sukuna bites at his lip.

“i’m not going to open it. or give it to you. she’ll come out when she’s ready for me.” sukuna mutters.

he watches as she laughs, full bellied and warm, before reaching forward and tangling the matted mess of his hair off of his forehead.

“have i ever been one to force you to do anything?”

sukuna sighs, slumping against the wall, before shaking his head.

he had heard the sentiment before, the first time he carried his tired and bleeding knees to the porch, after being kicked out of his house for the first time.

he nearly beat his knuckles bloody from knocking on the door loud enough before she came down, tired and weary eyes that were instantly snapped awake at his crying. and he can’t exactly remember what it was that he said, though he assumes that it wasn’t short of rudeness.

when he begged to stay. and when she let him in without a second glance, he said it quietly.

“you can’t force me to tell you what happened.”

and the response was always the same – the seventh, eight, and ninth time – before he finally got a understood.

have i ever been one to force you to do anything?

“do me a favor, sukuna.” she states.

“okay.”

“let me take care of your mom.”

sukuna looks over at her, taken aback by the sentiment. he was half expecting the half hearted lecture that sammy gave him months prior, about being careful and gentle with her sister, and was expecting a tougher version of that to come from what he knew was a very opinionated and defensive woman.

“what?”

“the worst part is over. i appreciate you picking up slack with me where you could and i’m sorry i couldn’t help more.”

sukuna shakes his head.

“she was basically debilitated. you had to stay with her.” he offers.

“and you sicked my daughter on your brother. but his boyfriend has got him for the rest and i’ll be with your mom for the foreseeable future, like i always have been.”

“i don’t think –”

“you’re leaving here tonight. and you’re taking my daughter with you.” she states.

sukuna shrugs.

“i can’t just leave her. she’s my mom and…and she’s been so fucking fragile for the past few days. you saw how she acted when –”

“and you’re her son. that’s not your job.”

she pauses.

“you step back and take care of my daughter. and maybe more importantly, let my daughter take care of you.” she whispers, raking her fingers through his hair again.

sukuna feels a shiver down his spine, before shaking his head. he can’t just leave.

“no.”

“sukuna.”

he shakes his head again, this time more fervently.

he can’t just leave. he can’t just pawn his own mother off to her and his brother to megumi and walk away.

“you know that godawful, shitty dining table downstairs that your dad picked out? the one that we gave to goodwill when he left for his trip to new york?”

“yeah.”

he remembered the fight that followed after when he realized it was gone. and sometimes, he wondered why his mom would pick a fight over something so trivial as a table.

“it was really heavy. seeing it every day irritated her to no end – that this was her house and her space and that he had taken over it another time. it pissed your mom off so much that every night, after they fought, she’d try to push it out of that damn room on her own. ”

sukuna snorts.

“i remember that.”

she smiles.

“i remember it too. watching her try to push it out of that room on her own, barely making a dent in moving it the merest inch. i think sammy even took a picture of it with that shitty disposable camera i bought her.”

sukuna rubs his palms together.

“okay.”

“i ended up helping her. carried one side and we were able to move it a few more inches. it didn’t really do much, so i got that piece of shit down the street, to help us too. and the old guy who used to live next door, the handyman. your dad was on a three day trip and it took five of us to push that god forsaken table out of the house.”

sukuna feels her pull him closer, wrapping him in a hug. it makes his chest pang, eerily similar to the feeling of being sixteen and sitting on the fact that he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

“my point is that there’s just some things you can’t carry alone, son.”

sukuna feels his throat dry. his eyes water, as he understands – the embarrassing and pitiful question spilling out as a byproduct.

“what if it’s too heavy for her? what…what if i can’t hold her up?” he asks, shaking his head as his voice cracks.

what if sukuna breaks his lifeline? an even worse fate than you dying – being the one responsible for killing you.

she smiles, before gesturing to her left, where sukuna sees yuuji standing.

“you’re more than capable, sukuna. you always have been. and there’s always an extra set of hands to help you lift.”

the thought comes an hour later.

maybe his mom did get to meet the love of her life. and maybe it just wasn’t the person he was expecting it to be.

the second one that follows makes even more sense.

of course the love was always going to be there between you and him. it was destined before you even got here. genetic even.

you make it back home around two in the morning, to three plastic wrapped plates of dinner and megumi asleep on your couch.

it feels a little bit like intruding, but the two of you can’t help but stare as yuuji lightly nudges megumi to wake up, the latter of whom literally bolts up at the sight of him, arms quick on his face before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

you look over at sukuna, gesturing for him to turn around with you, as sukuna unboxes the closest package – the replacement of the broken mug from your birthday – as you hear the two of them retreat, a quiet goodnight whispered to the pair of you.

“which mug do you want?” he asks.

“we can just share.”

there’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he wraps his hands around your wrists, his touch warm as he pulls you forward, tucking you straight into his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head.

and you’re not sure when it starts, but it’s not long before he’s quietly weeping, his frame shaking under you as you bury yourself closer to him, his heart pounding under your ear as you run your hands up and down his arms, quietly whispering into his ears.

he doesn’t stop. he makes no inclination of stopping and it sends a shiver down your spine.

you pull back, cupping his flushed pink cheeks, and wiping away the wetness from his eyelashes before locking your fingers together behind his neck.

“you took my jacket.” he whispers, voice strained.

“it was cold in your room.” you respond.

he nods, before leaning his forehead against yours, quietly trying to steady his breaths in pace with yours, before he abruptly pulls away, and leans against the granite.

“what’s wrong?” you ask.

he gestures his head to the left, where yuuji is standing, before quickly wiping the wetness from his face and pouring the warm milk into the mug. you give him a nod before retreating over to where yuuji is standing, his eyes glued to sukuna.

“yuuji?”

yuuji looks over at you, shaking his head.

“sorry. i wanted to take a shower. do you –”

“i’ll get you a towel, yuu.”

yuuji watches as you retreat, socks sliding on the tile, as he runs his hand through his hair, a deeply sweltering hot regret in his chest.

he had you pegged all wrong. both of you, written off the second he found out about it.

yuuji had the tiniest glimpse of it the other day. the way you so freely ranted to sukuna, watching as he quietly attended to you by braiding your hair to stop you from pulling at it, really – exuding a quiet comfort he didn’t even know he possessed.

but this was worse. because while you were being exactly who he knew you to be – maybe just shocked that you were able to do it with someone else – what he just saw in the short amount of time – sukuna freely crying, or more importantly, openly humbling himself to let someone in to help him crawl out – it was foreign.

unheard of. yuuji was almost positive that sukuna hadn’t even done it before, being so vulnerable with someone.

and he had been giving him a hard time for it

“here’s your towel.”

yuuji grabs your hand as you hand it over to him, squeezing hard as he looks up at you, teary eyed.

“thank you.”

for loving my brother.

“of course. get some rest.” you respond, giving him a smile as you watch him retreat back to the room.

sukuna’s crying has ceased when you make your way back to the kitchen. there’s a steaming cup of hot chocolate with a godawful amount of marshmallows and whipped cream, that he passes over to you for the first sip.

“i’m back.” you respond.

he nods, as he place the cup in your hand hand. and it’s a searing warmth in your cheeks as sukuna lifts his hand, wiping the whipped cream residue from the top of your lip.

“real cute.” he responds, before licking the excess off his own fingers.

you shrug.

“i try.”

he smiles, taking the mug from you.

you’re confused by what happens next – because it looks like he’s going to say something, even going as far as opening his mouth to start talking, before he clamps it shut, with something steaming behind his eyes that you can’t really understand.

and he does it a few times.

“are you okay?”

“yeah. yeah, i just…was trying to figure out how to talk.”

“how to talk?” you ask.

“you know. about all the stuff.”

you hum in response, before looping your arm around his torso, watching the marshmallows slowly dampen under the warm liquid, the smallest amount of steam still leaving the glass.

“it’s probably a lot.” you murmur.

“you have no idea.”

“how about you pick one thing? and we’ll do one thing at a time.”

sukuna nods, heaving a deep sigh, before tangling his free hand into your hair.

“my dad was a piece of shit.”

one of the marshmallows sinks down into the cup, the curved waves of the whipped cream disintegrating with it.

“i mean…my dad was a piece of shit. he died a piece of shit and now he won’t ever be anything else.”

you nod.

“do you…do you know those lifetime shows? where people go on the news and talk about how…how different things changed their lives? like families getting out of horrible financial situations and being happy or people finally getting time to put the work in to better themselves?”

“yeah.”

“i had this really, really crappy thought that i held on to when i was a kid. that some day, that prick would just wake up, and realize what really mattered. that he’d put in the work, that i’d watch my mom get what she deserved, and…and he’d come to my wedding.” he murmurs.

sukuna shakes his head, before clenching his jaw.

“knowing him, the last thing he probably said about you was shitty. and not because he was some vile, sick asshole filled with hatred for you – but hatred for me. for yuuji. for the fact that you were fine with yuuji just as he was. liked me just as i am.”

the steam from the mug is gone.

“that stupid asshole died just as he was. a homophobic, misogynistic prick. he won’t ever change.”

you lean your head against his shoulder.

“still hurts, doesn’t it?” you ask.

sukuna nods.

and thanks his lucky stars that you had that in you, to parse out what he really meant. that his dad died just as he was and now sukuna knows that whatever it was he lost out on is something he won’t ever be able to get back.

grief for what was never going to be.

“more than you know.” he responds.

sukuna pauses.

“what do you think about it?” he asks.

you look down at the mug.

“that it’s his loss.”

“what?”

“by some turn of fate, your dad was very undeservingly blessed with two very loving children. it’s his loss that he’s died without even getting to feel even an inch of that. and i get it, that on paper, his legacy, his career – it’s seemed so worthwhile to people at your house. that even though he died young, he lived a very full life.”

you push the mug over to him.

“to me, it always seemed like he was chasing something. a better title at work, a bigger party he could throw to show off, anything that made him feel like he was larger than life. and i feel sorry for him. he’s had two boys that give the word love meaning under his roof for all these years and it’s embarrassing for him that he never got to feel it.”

you shrug.

“you won’t ever get to have the dad you wanted. but he won’t ever get to reap the benefits, the good love, of what he already had.”

sukuna leans forward, gentle hands on your cheeks, before locking his lips with yours, the kiss mixed in with his quiet tears.

the best kind of kiss he could give you – affectionate. devoted. and bare. you felt like the smallest parts of him were in the palm of your hand, to cherish and preserve.

“your turn.” he whispers.

you snort.

“do you have short term memory loss? i just told you what i thought.”

sukuna shakes his head, wiping the wetness on the back of his hand, before clearing his throat.

“i gave you three hours in that room. it’s your turn.”

you elbow him in the side, before lifting the mug with your hands.

“i gave you a week.”

“you’ve always been more patient than me. i nearly broke the door down.”

you roll your eyes.

“i know you have a key.”

“and i’d never use it.” sukuna affirms.

you smile, seeping in the warmth of the ceramic mug, as you look down at the flowery print, a mottled mess of liquid swimming from everything you had mixed in the cup.

“some part of me thinks that i’m rotten.”

sukuna watches as you set the mug down, reaching for the ends of your hair as you twirl them in your fingers.

“what?”

you sigh, warm tears in your eyes.

“i always thought that there was something wrong with me. there was always a rotten part of me, deep down, and everything i was doing was to keep it from getting out. like…like an infection or something.”

“okay.” sukuna whispers, his tone in his voice beckoning for you to continue.

“he’s vile. he’s vile for showing up to your dad’s funeral. for not even saying a word to yuuji when he was there the day he was born, for trying to sweet talk on your behalf like he knows you or something. having a new family, two new girls, not even sparing a second glance to what came before.”

you pause.

“and he’s my dad. he’s vile and sometimes i feel like he’s…he’s in my head. that some part of him is always going to be intertwined with me and deep down, running through my blood, and that’s why i won’t ever win.”

sukuna reaches forward, cupping your warm cheeks in the palm of his hands. and you look up at him, warm brown hazel eyes so washed in concern for you, and it makes your chest hurt.

“i look at you and all i can think about is that one day, it’ll be the last time you’ll look at me like that. because you’ll leave. you’ll realize that it’s just lipstick on a pig, or…or too much and you’ll take your leave for something better.”

sukuna wishes that he was the one who got to punch him instead of yuuji.

“what do you think?” you ask.

sukuna drops his hold, lifting your hands against his lips and pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“that i wish i punched him instead.” he states.

“what? someone punched him?”

sukuna smiles.

“my mom slapped him. and yuuji punched him. everyone got to have their cake except for me.”

you snort.

“i wish it was me. because i think he’s sick in the head.”

typical. sukuna was never one to really mince his words.

“i think it’s absolutely disgusting that he left without a trace and that the one person he talked to when he left was my dad – though i suppose that’s fitting.”

sukuna pauses.

“it’s been criminal to watch your mom suffer when she’s one of the first people who gave me a lifeline…and when she brought my second lifeline into this world.”

you smile.

“i think any bit of harshness or judgment i’ve passed on sammy is unfair, because i think i’d be immeasurably cruel at times too if the one person who was required to love me felt that i was special enough to deserve a replacement, but not enough to be the one who was actually loved.”

you sigh..

“and i think it’s batshit insane that he was unable to recognize you when most of the time, you’re the only person in the room with me. it’s entirely unbelievable to me that the one person he gave no recognition to is probably the only person who would ever deserve it.”

sukuna looks down at you and frowns.

“you’re a considerate daughter, a compassionate sister – maybe even when you shouldn’t be – and the warmest friend that my brother has ever had.”

sukuna leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead.

“you’re a beautiful girlfriend, so painfully kind-hearted towards me that i’m half convinced you’re god with the way you’re able to fix everything with just your hands. you’re everything good and every part of you is worth acknowledging and appreciating. it’s humiliating for your dad that he’s part of the reason you’re here – and that he won’t ever be able to realize that his greatest accomplishment is you.”

you lean forward, tucking yourself into his neck, and it makes sukuna shiver – the cold tears running down his neck as you quietly sob, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jacket.

“you think i’m god?” you sniffle.

sukuna rolls his eyes, unable to contain his smile.

“of course that’s what you take away from it.”

you lean back, looking up at him and the smile on his face. and you commit it to memory – the laugh, the love in the silence, and how it persists in the pain.

“people worship gods.” you clarify.

“and i worship you.”

you curl your nose in disgust.

“ew, sukuna.”

“you’re not saying ew when i’m doing it. it sounds a lot more like –”

you wrap your hand over his mouth, before shushing him.

“your brother is in the next room over.”

“he’s always such a thorn in my side.” sukuna mutters, earning you a laugh from him.

the two of you retreat after the fact. you wash sukuna’s hair in the shower. he insists on doing your skincare for you. and the sun rises on the two of you the next day.

next part linked here

an: LOL. ok I write dream girl now I just wanted to get that out of me.

edit: someone left an ??? upset? or like...idk the word for it comment on ao3 about the fact that it's kind of toxic that sukuna calls her god at the end. pls know that it's JUST a metaphor and he's just trying to compare her to something that's really important and being hyperbolic 💌

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adore-laur · 10 months

Text

HOME IS A FEELING

— former high school sweethearts reunite for a conversation about what went wrong 🌃

——

"Don't turn around."

The vague statement thrown your way sends speculations trickling through your brain. Those three words usually never mean anything good. What is it? Or who is it? Whatever the mystery, it makes you anxious based on your friend's wary expression.

"Just tell me," you say timidly, becoming tense in the diner booth with a forkful of red velvet cake halfway to your mouth. "Tell me so I don't have the urge to actually turn around."

"Your ex," she mutters, never one to beat around the bush, much to your appreciation. "He just walked in. Don't kill me for saying this, but he looks really good."

You kick her foot under the table and sink further into the leather seat. "Why is he here? He's supposed to be in another country."

It's not an exaggeration or a falsity. Harry is supposed to be in not only another country but also another continent entirely—the Netherlands, to be exact.

Your friend risks another glance at the front door. "Well, he's back, and it's like he never left. Look at them..." She shakes her head slowly. "Hyping him up like he's a goddamn hero."

You assume she means the people you went to high school with. A hometown get-together with a small crowd of classmates from nearby colleges is being held at everyone's favorite local retro-style diner to celebrate the last week of summer break. It was going swell until Mr. Marine Biologist, who probably makes studying abroad his whole personality, waltzed through the door.

You cradle your left cheek with your hand to create a shield for your face in case he happens to look over. "I'm almost done with my cake, and then we can leave."

"Good luck," she sings. "The only booth open is the one right behind us."

Of course. Sighing, you silently pray that Harry won't come near you. You doubt he'll try to talk to you anyway since it's been complete radio silence on both ends for over two years. You're really hoping the breakup doesn't get brought up.

A sudden and forceful compulsion tells you to catch a quick glimpse to see how he looks, what he wears nowadays, and how he acts when you're not around. It's hard to resist.

"He's coming this way," alerts your friend through a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

The universe must be listening, and you can't combat the urge anymore. Someone as beautiful as him begs to be looked at. You sure as hell didn't break up with him because he was unattractive.

Subtly peeking to your left, you see Harry in person for the first time in what seems like forever. It's only a short window of time where you can take in his presence as he walks closer to sit with a group of people in the booth behind you.

Black skinny jeans. Nothing has changed there.

Chelsea boots. Since when does he wear those?

A gray, tattered sweater, and a blue beanie. It's summer, for crying out loud.

Most surprising, however, is his hair, which now falls just a tad below his jaw. The same soft curls you would run your fingers through until he fell asleep.

You continue picking at your dessert, your mind running a mile a minute at the sight of him. The fact that he's behind you—thankfully facing the other way—but still inches away nonetheless is nerve-wracking. If you move your head back even the tiniest bit, it'll touch his own.

Did he notice you? Does he know his ex-girlfriend is in the same room and thinking about everything he could be thinking? Like how you never forgot about him as much as you tried to?

He's speaking, but you can't piece together what he's saying because you're too distracted by how his voice has deepened over the years. The rasp and British drawl are still there, and the warmth and comfort of them still make your heart race.

Your friend keeps stealing glances and looking at you with apprehensive eyes that cause prickles of anxiety on your skin. "What?" you whisper.

Before she can reply, you feel something nudge the back of your neck. You strain your peripheral vision and see Harry's elbow resting on the top of your booth.

"Oops, sorry," he says, twisting around in his seat.

You automatically turn and look at him. It's impossible not to, since he's like a human magnet for the eyes. His face is so close to yours now. Have his eyes gotten greener? Why does he have such beautiful lashes? Does he have more freckles on his nose since you saw him last?

Snap out of it!

"It's fine," you mumble, shaking your head and quickly turning around. Your heart feels like it's in your throat.

After finishing the rest of your dessert, you lean forward so he doesn't accidentally bump you again. Your friend raises her eyebrows at you and taps her foot against yours.

"So, your brother is coming to visit soon?" you ask, ignoring her questioning look and attempting to make any sort of conversation to distract from Harry.

"Yeah, tomorrow. My mom is going to weep happy tears."

"Aw. Remind me to visit her before the semester starts."

The leather seat suddenly squeaks behind you, and your breathing goes uneven for the third time tonight.

"You guys want anything to drink?" Harry asks his group of friends.

They all tell him their desired orders, and shortly after, you see him walk past your booth. He heads toward the counter with long strides and hands he doesn't know what to do with. His back is turned, so you use your chance to shamelessly observe him. He looks different but is familiar all the same. He has the same body, although he looks buff. Same friendly personality, although you've missed out on it lately. Same gentle presence, although it wasn't that way the night you separated.

"Didn't you once tell me that he always ordered ginger ale at restaurants?"

You look at your friend, processing her question. "Yes. He never mixed it with anything, either. Just drank it straight up like a freak."

"Gross," she says with a wince. "I think he just ordered one."

Once again, the counter is your focal point; this time, you notice the glass of creamy yellow liquid on it. You internally gag at how Harry could still drink that. Harry then walks back to his booth, skillfully carrying two glasses in each of his hands, like he worked as a waiter in his past life. You don't even try to hide the fact that you're staring.

Eventually, he catches your eye and abruptly stops in his tracks. You watch him blink a couple times before he continues to the table and sets down the drinks for everyone.

"I'll grab some napkins," he murmurs, leaving again.

You slide your empty plate toward the center of the table and watch him fumble while taking out napkins from the dispenser. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

When he walks by for the second time, he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. You furrow your eyebrows in response.

He nonchalantly repeats the gesture as he starts passing napkins around. You shake your head, nonverbally telling him that you have no clue what he's conveying.

His jaw clenches before he mouths, "Come with me."

"Absolutely not," you mouth back as you fiddle with the sugar packets.

Harry huffs and sits in his seat.

Everything used to be so easy with him.

——

Two Years Ago

It was graduation day, and you were inserting a silver hoop earring in the pierced hole of your earlobe when three thumps gently rattled your bedroom door.

"Knock knock."

In the reflection of your vanity mirror, you grinned giddily. "Come in! It's unlocked."

Harry opened the door with a pout on his lips. "You're supposed to say who's there."

"Wha—" you stammered confusedly, turning around in your chair. "I hate you."

He shuffled inside and immediately bellyflopped onto your bed. "Wow. I missed you too."

"Just kidding," you said, flashing him a winning smile. "You left your laptop charger here, by the way. I set it on the kitchen table."

"Thank you, baby," he mumbled into your pillow.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Mm, c'mere." He lazily patted the space next to him. "Let's cuddle before we have to sit far away from each other for the rest of the night."

"It'll only be for a couple of hours at most," you replied, putting in your other earring. "Don't be so dramatic."

After tidying your vanity area, you stood and slinked into bed with Harry. The lavender-colored sunset filtered through your sheer curtains and created a serene ambiance. Harry's body rolled over on top of yours, his weight providing the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. The scent of his almond oil shampoo reduced your nerves. You reached for your phone and set an alarm for fifteen minutes from now so he would have enough time to get ready, then pulled the blanket over both of your heads, not caring if the hair you spent precious time on became tousled. It would mostly be hidden under the immensely unflattering graduation cap anyway.

Harry's clean-shaven cheek rested on your chest, and he planted a chaste kiss on your collarbone. He had always been the affectionate type. Touch was his love language, and he never failed to fulfill it with you.

Every touch strengthened your love for him. Every touch left you longing for more. Every touch felt purposeful.

——

You swear he's doing it on purpose. You know he is.

Harry keeps leaning his head back until it faintly touches yours. Nuzzling it, if you will. That, or he'll clasp his hands behind his head and loosely twirl a strand of your hair.

This time, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms before tickling behind your ear. He knows goddamn well it's the place where you're the most ticklish. You pretend to have an itch and bring your hands back to slap his burning touch away, but of course, he takes the opportunity to be a pest and capture your fingers.

You yank them away and clear your throat. "I need to go to the bathroom," you tell your friend before getting up and making a beeline straight to the back of the diner.

When you open the door, you sigh relievedly when you find all the stalls open and no one is lingering. You pace toward the farthest wall and rub your hands down your face. Two years without Harry, and not a single call or text—only the occasional picture you'd see of him when you caved and scrolled through his social media during particularly lonely nights. Yet tonight, he acts like you're best buds who can tease each other and initiate playful touches, like you didn't end on a terrible note that made both of your hearts shatter into smithereens. Maybe this is some bizarre dream you'll wake up from and laugh about later.

You blow out a sharp breath and wash your hands before splashing cold water onto your heated cheeks.

"Were my hands dirty or something?"

Your whole body flinches. Now, he's just plain annoying. How long has he been standing there?

"Why are you in here?" you ask monotonously.

Footsteps come closer. You keep your back turned.

He laughs softly and says, "How've you been?"

Such a master at avoiding questions. "That wasn't what I asked."

"That wasn't an answer," he replies smugly. You can practically hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

"I've been fantastic, Harry," you say, your words laced with petty sarcasm. "What about you?"

"You sound stressed." He's right next to you now. "Is it because of your job? I heard you're an assistant teacher at the middle school."

Your hands grip the edge of the marble sink. "Who told you that?"

"I knew you'd be here," he says, as if it were obvious. "I had to ask people what you've been up to since you clearly weren't going to tell me yourself."

He asked about you. No, that can't be right. Turning to face him, you let your guard down just a little. "I'm helping with the summer school program."

Harry smiles. If you analyze it enough, it almost looks like a proud one. "That's amazing. What grade do you want to teach in the future?"

A conversation with your ex-boyfriend about career aspirations is entirely too casual for your liking. Doesn't he have friends to catch up with? Some ginger ale to drink?

You shrug and truthfully say, "I haven't decided yet. It's a big decision."

He nods, crossing his arms. "You've got time."

Silence hangs except for the drip of the faucet.

"So... I assume you're still studying marine biology?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

He hums an affirmation. "I'm almost done with my bachelor's degree, and then I'll be on my way to becoming one with the ocean."

You almost let a laugh slip out. "Well, I'm sure it's beautiful in Europe. I can't imagine the view every day."

He nonchalantly plucks a stray strand of hair off your sleeve, making your blood rush. "It is, yeah. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's been nice to live somewhere so different from what I was used to."

"You don't have a roommate?"

"Nope, just me. I don't really like sharing my space."

Only if it was with you. He's told you that before. Not that it matters now.

"I know. I don't know why I even asked."

It's a bold statement but a tenuous breakthrough in the barrier of the inevitable and awkward breakup conversation you're dreading.

Harry inhales and takes a step closer. "Come up to the rooftop with me. I don't want our first conversation in two years to be in the women's restroom."

You give him an apologetic look and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to head home soon and get up early for work tomorrow."

He toys with the bottom of your shirt. "Please."

It's a soft whisper that echos in the empty space, a begging tone chipping away at the walls built around your heart, paired with pleading eyes so clear and tender. Harmless.

"Okay." You'll kick yourself later for giving in so easily. "Okay, fine. Let's go." You pull out your phone and send a quick text message to your friend about where you'll be. She'll understand the weight of the situation.

Harry walks out of the bathroom, with you following behind. He takes a sharp right toward the concealed metal stairs leading to the diner's roof. He leaves some room so the two of you can walk side by side, your clothes rustling against each other in the narrow space. The rusty door opens, and you step out onto the flat concrete.

Little squares of light shine from the city buildings far away. They cause a strange feeling to wash over you. It can only be described as a powerful wave of hometown nostalgia, even though you never left. You wonder if it's hitting Harry as well.

He stands by the edge and leans his forearms on the railing, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. Is it reminiscence? Yearning? Regret? All could be the reason for the melancholy shift in energy.

"What did we do wrong?"

——

Three Months After Graduation

The party turned sour out of the blue. Harry's friend hadn't just said what you think he said. It was loud, so you must have heard him wrong. Why didn't he tell you? Why did you have to find out from his drunk friend, who's not even close to him?

Harry definitely saw your face drop because he instantly pulled you into an unoccupied bedroom upstairs. You'd been arguing for the past half hour, neither one of you inebriated funny enough, but still throwing words that were more like weapons at each other—launching arrows at the heart, shooting daggers at the eyes, and slashing swords in the Achilles heel.

Your weak spot was him, and you were his.

You stood your ground as you spoke your closing statement with frustrated tears. "I'm never going to see you if you're abroad, so what's the difference if I just leave now and never see you again?"

"Will that make you happy?" He was being stubborn; you were, too. "Because obviously, I don't make you happy enough for this to continue. For us to at least try."

He did make you happy, but anger blindly leads people to say what they don't mean, especially in cases of love.

"Obviously not." Lies, lies, lies. "It's useless when we know it'll end badly."

Harry released a bitter laugh. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Fine," you repeated.

You should have fought for him, but what would have been the use if you had known it would only hurt you in the long run?

He roughly swung the door open and then turned around one last time. "You can come pick up your stuff at my house this weekend. I won't be home."

The door slammed shut, and reality sank in.

——

The open sign of the diner flickers below.

"We did a lot wrong," you declare defeatedly, standing beside him.

"True, but we were eighteen and didn't know anything about communication or how to balance adult shit."

The conversation is heading toward a place you don't want it to go. "I really don't want to talk about our breakup, Harry. It's in the past. We've moved on."

He shakes his head. "Why? There was no closure whatsoever. I think it'd be good to get some now that we're face-to-face."

In the distance, you watch birds flock on the wire of a telephone pole. "Why didn't you just ignore me tonight? We've been doing fine without each other."

He scoffs quietly and leans his body against the railing. "Really? I was homesick for months because of you. You felt like home to me; you know that. The feeling never disappeared, no matter how much I pushed it down."

You throw your arms out. "Then why didn't you call or text me? I would've replied, Harry. I'm not that cruel."

"I thought you hated me," he says. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I just couldn't stand having you hate me, so I thought it'd be easier not to talk to you."

It's the classic tale of a high school mindset. You think you're doing the right thing until it slaps you across the face with the hand of cluelessness. You wonder what would've happened if Harry had reached out. Maybe you could've figured it out.

"I didn't hate you," you admit. How could anyone hate him? "I mean, I might've thought that I hated you, but if anything, I still loved you for way too many months after."

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but you continue. "Like you said, we were young and didn't know how to balance a relationship and our lives outside of it. Two years can really mature a person, and we both needed to do that without each other."

He nods while stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

The conversation stops at a dead end. There's nothing else to say since it's a mutual understanding of what went wrong.

The breeze picks up, and you shiver before asking, "How long are you here for?"

He clears his throat. "I'm staying with my mother, then I have a flight back to the Netherlands in a few days. I have to go back for an ecology camp."

"That's nice," you say. A couple of days. That knowledge causes an unwanted sinking feeling to take place in your stomach.

"Do you…" He raises his thumb to his mouth, nervously biting his fingernail. "Can we maybe talk more before I leave?"

It's an open opportunity, but what would it lead to? What would come of it? Would it be worth the pain?

"What's there to talk about? You're leaving soon, and then we'll never speak again."

You've taken logical truth more seriously over the years. You've learned that holding on to false hope is dangerous for the heart and mind.

"That won't happen," he replies with a pensive gaze. "We've grown and know how to communicate now. There's so much we've missed in each other's lives that we can talk about. I don't know where you live or the places you like to go anymore, who your friends are, or what new songs you like to listen to. It kills me."

A shaky breath escapes you. "It doesn't matter. We're not right for each other. Call me selfish, but I don't want a relationship where we barely see each other. I'm sure that's not what you want either."

"So, that's it?" he asks, staring at the sky. "Do you not want to give this another chance?"

You can't imagine a more complicated question to answer, but it seems you've known the answer for a while. Gently grabbing Harry's chin and tilting his face down, you say, "Right person, wrong time. It would never work with the distance, and you know that. Deep down, we both know, as much as it hurts to admit."

"What now? Are we back to being strangers?"

"Harry, I don't think we'll ever be strangers. I know too much about you."

You're trying to lighten the mood, but Harry's sad eyes aren't helping at all. Instead, you focus on the stars twinkling brightly across the black sky and the single car driving by on the otherwise empty street. Every second that ticks by, he seems to move closer to you.

"If this is the last time I see you," Harry says apprehensively, "can I hold you for a little while? Give me that, and I won't ask you for anything else."

It'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't it? You need to feel him just as much. He's too significant of a person to let go of without saying a proper goodbye.

"You can hold me."

And so he does it for the last time.

Harry closes the distance and embraces you like he always used to—his cheek resting on your head and his arms completely around you, squeezing the sides of your body. He's breathing you in, like he's scared of losing you. It's just you and him standing on a rooftop and holding on to any last bit you can get of each other.

You're tucked so far into his chest that the only thing you can hear is his heart pounding. He's warm and sentimental, and the nighttime chill makes you melt into him even more. He eases you—every laugh, every tear, every moment you share with him was brought about by the ease of being around him.

"You still feel the same." A pang ripples in your heart because of your own words, and a sob desperately tries to crawl up your throat.

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Yeah? You still smell the same."

You laugh, but it's choked with sadness. "What, like shitty teen store perfume?"

"No, you smell like home. Like when I used to go to your house for sleepovers, and you'd always light those vanilla candles."

Another pang, this time from his vulnerable confession. "I should go," you say, deterring the conversation from any more agony.

He doesn't argue. "Yeah, me too. I never really liked those people in there anyway."

You smile, stepping away from his arms. "I'll walk you to your car."

He nods, and the both of you retreat down the stairs, exiting the building through the back way to avoid any distractions. After reaching the front of the diner, you find his black Jeep sitting alone in a parking space. It's nice to know he still has it, considering it's a car with good memories, like Harry driving you to school every morning and picking up coffee. Or eating fast food outside the high school after a football game. Or nights of endless kissing and professions of love before he walked you to your doorstep.

Facing him under the moonlight tonight, it's time to officially move on.

"Bye. It was really nice to see you." A tear unexpectedly falls from your eye. Maybe it's due to the chilly temperature, but you know better.

Harry's face crumbles. Your composure shatters.

"Please don't cry," he pleads, biting his lip to stop it from wobbling. However, it's too late, and both of you give in to the misery and drama of it all.

"Now we're both crying."

He rubs his eyes and leans against his car door. "God, this fuckin' sucks."

"We'll be okay," you say weakly. "It's fine. We went two years without each other. You'll forget about me soon enough, and it'll be like this never happened."

You're only trying to convince yourself at this point.

"I never forgot about you. You were the first person I fell in love with. How do I move on from that?"

His choice of words isn't something you gloss over. Is he insinuating that he hasn't moved on yet? Should you tell him you haven't either?

Logical thinking, you mentally tell yourself. Don't say something that will make it harder to leave.

"I have to go home now." But isn't home standing right in front of you?

"Okay," Harry says. "I guess… Good luck with everything. I hope teaching goes well for you."

You kick away a pebble on the pavement. "Thanks. I hope you become one with the ocean."

He laughs breathily, his dimples popping out for the first time tonight. He then inhales and gazes somewhere far away as his smile dies. When he looks back at you, he nods once before getting in his car.

"Wait."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

Don't make it harder.

Leave.

Don't hurt yourself.

Yet the way he looks at you is enough to make you ignore those logical thoughts. You lean forward and kiss his cold cheek, and it's like his entire body deflates under your hesitant touch. "Thank you for making me happy during the time we had together," you say against his tear-stained skin. "I never got to tell you that."

Harry sniffles and nods, then kisses your cheek a little longer and softer.

A lasting pang. A lingering sting. A sharp twinge.

Why?

Because the words he whispers to you cause silent tears to fall down your face when he finally closes the door and drives away.

You still mean so much to me.

——

Opening the door to your bedroom, the silence echoes louder than usual. The small space is where memories of Harry can still be found. There's the blanket he used to lie on, the desk he would sit on to help you study, and the dresser you used to keep his shirts in to wear when you missed him. The most tragic thing is an empty photo book on the top shelf of your closet that was meant to be filled with future road trips that never got planned. Next to it are unused polaroids for dates that stopped happening.

Piled at the bottom are a few that actually got used. A picture of Harry when the both of you went to a homecoming afterparty, and you didn't want to drink alcohol, so Harry drank orange Hi-C cartons with you to make you feel better. A picture of Harry on a floating water bouncer at the lake by your uncle's cabin when you went on summer vacation together after junior year. Your favorite picture of him is when he's turned around in the seat of the school auditorium, smiling widely. It was back in high school when nothing could separate you from him.

The pictures remind you of a time when you were in love—not only with him but with life. They feel like home to you.

That feeling of home seems impossible to catch now. It's like chasing a butterfly that keeps escaping from the loose grasp of your hands because you don't want to hurt it.

Are you the hands, or are you the butterfly?

——

The journal on top of Harry's suitcase mocks him. He shouldn't open it, but logical thinking has never been his strong suit.

The first page has pressed and dried lavender taped to it from the first date he took you on. The next has your drawings in the margin from when you stole his journal while he studied. Yet most of the pages are filled with lovesick entries about you.

January 29th

Last night, I told her I was falling in love with her. She said no one had ever told her that before, and I couldn't believe it. How could someone not instantly fall in love the moment she walks into a room?

Then she told me that she loved me too. I swear, I almost cried with happiness. She's the one for me. I see us being together for the long haul.

I hope she sees the same thing.

June 6th

We graduated! We're finally done with high school!

When they called my name, my eyes went to hers first. She looked so proud of me. I wonder if I could convince her to rent an apartment with me instead of staying in different dorms.

College will be strange, but we'll get through it together. I have no doubt we'll adapt and find time for each other.

I always have time for her.

August 2nd

I think I'm going to tell her about the college I chose. She's not going to take it well. It's abroad, but it's the best school for marine biology.

She wants to stay close to home, but I want to get out and travel. There's nothing hard about talking through some of our differences, right? Long-distance relationships can work if you put in the effort. We can do it.

If this ends up biting me in the ass, you'll never hear from me again.

Harry stopped writing in his journal after the breakup. It's almost funny, he supposes. He jinxed it in the last entry. He thought of the worst-case scenario, and it came to fruition right before him only days later.

Blissful ignorance is what he'll call it. Two high school sweethearts who didn't know what would hit them. Foolishly in love and blinded by reality. But the thing is, it's not easy to just move on from it. Especially when he brought those damn vanilla candles from his dorm room to his mother's house so he could sleep better at night.

So he can be reminded of home.

It was never a place when he was with you. Home became a feeling that bloomed without warning. It took him by surprise when he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. Home was entirely, ultimately, and unconditionally you.

Harry closes his journal and brings it with him as he heads out the door to search for a drop of that feeling in the places you used to go.

The places he will write about until his hand aches as much as his heart.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles #adore-laur #home is a feeling

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cacmsinsitute · 11 months

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The Bedrock of Global Learning: Why You Need to Clarify Your Basics Before Embarking on International Studies

Studying abroad is a life-changing experience that allows for personal development, cultural immersion, and academic enrichment. The key to a successful study abroad journey, on the other hand, is the firm foundation of knowledge and skills that you bring with you. Before embarking on your overseas studies, it is critical to clarify your fundamentals in order to get the most of your educational adventure.

The Value of Study Abroad

Studying abroad entails more than just receiving a degree from a foreign college. It's an opportunity to broaden your horizons, get a global perspective, and improve your problem-solving abilities. You can discover different cultures, meet individuals from other origins, and gain a better perspective of the world. To properly capitalize on these prospects, you must first master your academic fundamentals.

The significance of Study Abroad Courses

Before you pack your bags, it's crucial to understand that study abroad courses are designed to supplement the information you already have. These courses are often more specialized and may assume a certain amount of knowledge in your industry. To stay up with your schoolwork and actively participate in class discussions, you must be well-versed in the fundamentals of your subject.

Why is it critical to clarify the fundamentals?

Academic Preparation: Study abroad courses can be intellectually demanding. Clarifying your fundamentals guarantees that you have a solid academic foundation on which to excel in these difficult courses.

Effective Learning: Being prepared will allow you to make the most of your study abroad experience. This allows you to connect more fully with your coursework and absorb the knowledge provided by your host institution.

Cultural Adaptation: When you are confident in your academic ability, you have more time and mental energy to adjust to a new culture, learn a new language, and explore your surroundings.

Career Advancement: Studying abroad can improve your employability, but it is even more beneficial when your fundamentals are solid. Employers recognise a strong educational basis and international experience, making you a very desirable prospect.

Steps to Clarify Your Basics

Review Your Coursework: Ensure you're up to date with the core concepts in your field.

Seek Guidance: Consult with your professors, academic advisors, or mentors to clarify any doubts.

Take Offline Courses: Enroll in offline courses or workshops to refresh your knowledge and skills.

Language Proficiency: Focus on language proficiency when learning in a non-native language to increase communication and comprehension.

Cultural Understanding: To ease the adjustment, learn about your host country's culture and customs.

Remember that basic comprehension extends beyond your academic knowledge to your flexibility, cultural understanding, and overall readiness. It is the foundation for your study abroad experience.

In conclusion, studying abroad is a transforming experience that takes planning. You set yourself up for a successful, enriching, and memorable experience by clarifying your basics. So, before you begin your overseas studies, spend time developing your foundation, and your study abroad trip will be all the more gratifying.

Ready to Clarify the Fundamentals for a Successful Study Abroad Experience? Join CACMS Institute for Study Abroad Courses. Contact us at +91 8288040281 or visit our website at http://cacms.in to begin your road towards global academic success.

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taexoxosgf · 4 months

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seeing brother’s best friend!jisung after three years

goes with the one-shot : do it again

— decided to post other parts of the full fic in blurbs/drabbles! i was cringing rlly bad rereading so i might tweak some parts

“Y/n?”

Expecting your brother, you’re face-to-face with Jisung. Your brother’s best friend.

While your older brother decided to attend college near home, Jisung studied abroad in Europe. You hadn’t heard from him in three years. It was almost as if he disappeared from existence, but, you think again. He shouldn’t hinder your thoughts because he isn’t your best friend, he is your brother’s– a person who did not owe you an explanation, a call, or anything, really.

“Jisung... What a pleasant surprise,” you blurted out, hoping to avert from your surprised expression.

The smirk that adorned his face gave notice of a new piercing at the corner of his lips. You just then realize how different he looks at first glance. Of course, his growth from adolescence was during high school and you had taken notice. But standing in front of you in the current time, he looks like the same Jisung you knew but maybe a tad taller, sporting tighter clothing, and toned arms– your eyes eventually travel down to his fingertips where you notice thick rings and a flashy tennis bracelet. And his hair. In high school, Jisung repeatedly destroyed his hair with bleach, occasionally adding some ginger or pink into the mix. But now, it returned to the original charcoal black color you always tried to persuade him to re-try.

“You’re staring,” he teases, resting an arm against the door frame.

God, he’s hot. This is so not good for your mental health.

“Just was expecting Taeyong. Caught me off guard,” you cross your arms.

Jisung rolls his eyes, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You’re saying you look at Ty like that? I gotta tell him to stay away from you,” he jokes.

“Shut up, you’re disgusting,” you grimace.

“Actually, I think calling professionals will solve this problem,” he pulls out his phone, pretending to dial a number.

“You’re so annoying. Gimme that before I smack you with it,” You hurdle forward to grab the phone, but he beats you to it, holding it behind his figure. At the door frame now, shoulder to shoulder with Jisung– You’re a lot closer to him than you realized, slightly tilting your head up to look at him, and he merely looks down at you.

You really couldn’t move your feet. Both of you just stay in that position, unable to break the ice.

After what feels like a million light years, Jisung is the first one to slice through the silence.

“It’s been a while huh?”

It’s so sudden, like a smack in the face. Of course, it’s been long. But did he just notice? Did he just remember that his best friend has a sister he used to know? There’s a weird feeling in your chest at the statement because something that you occasionally reminisce about is just background noise in his life.

You just nod. “Yeah, it has.”

“I would lie and say you look the same as when I left but you look different,” he says as his low tone fills the air. Jisung only stares at you with a gaze you can’t quite comprehend. You don’t recall him ever looking at you this way.

You tilt your head to the side slightly and crinkle your eyebrows in an attempt to understand the curveball he had just thrown.

“Well, I hope that’s a good thing. If you’re here to insult me after three years, then you have something comin’ for you Park.”

“It is,” his orbs flicker around your face.

The silence is too uncomfortable for you to handle and the only excuse you can think of is: “It’s nice seeing you again Jisung, but I need you to start getting the boxes out of my car while I say hi to my parents and Taeyong.”

“Wow,” he chuckles. “It's been three years and the first thing you do is boss me around. I can’t say I haven’t missed that,” he says as he brushes past you in the doorway.

“Oh, are you saying you missed me?” you cross your arms once more, turning around to look at him.

He opens the driver door, crossing his arms against his chest before leaning against the car.

“You have no idea.”

#park jisung x y/n #park jisung x you #park jisung fic #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct fic #nct dream park jisung #park jisung x reader #park jisung nct #park jisung #nct jisung fluff #nct dream jisung #nct jisung x reader #nct jisung #nct park jisung #nct dream imagines

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ielts-classes-in-faridabad · 2 months

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How to Maximize Your Learning in TOEFL Coaching Classes

Preparing for the TOEFL exam can be a challenging but rewarding experience. With the right approach, you can make the most of your TOEFL coaching classes in Faridabad and achieve your desired score. Here are some strategies to help you maximize your learning.

1. Choose the Right TOEFL Coaching Classes in Faridabad

Before diving into your study plan, it's crucial to select the right TOEFL coaching classes in Faridabad. Look for institutes with experienced instructors, a proven track record of success, and a comprehensive curriculum. Research online reviews, ask for recommendations, and consider visiting the coaching center to get a feel of the environment.

2. Set Clear Goals

Establishing clear goals is essential for staying motivated and focused. Determine the score you need for your desired university or program, and set smaller, achievable milestones along the way. Discuss these goals with your instructors so they can tailor their teaching to your needs.

3. Stay Organized

Keeping your study materials and schedule organized is key to effective learning. Create a study timetable that allocates specific times for each section of the TOEFL exam: reading, listening, speaking, and writing. Stick to your schedule and ensure you balance your time between classes, self-study, and practice tests.

4. Actively Participate in TOEFL Classes in Faridabad

Active participation in your TOEFL classes in Faridabad will significantly enhance your learning experience. Engage in class discussions, ask questions, and seek clarification on any topics you find challenging. Participating actively helps reinforce your understanding and allows you to benefit from the collective knowledge of your peers and instructors.

5. Utilize Practice Tests

Regularly taking practice tests is one of the best ways to prepare for the TOEFL exam. These tests help you familiarize yourself with the exam format, identify your strengths and weaknesses, and track your progress. Make sure to review your answers thoroughly and understand your mistakes to avoid repeating them in the actual exam.

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Most TOEFL coaching classes in Faridabad offer a variety of study materials, including textbooks, practice papers, and online resources. Make full use of these resources to enhance your learning. Additionally, don't hesitate to ask your instructors for extra materials or recommendations for further reading.

7. Practice Speaking and Listening Daily

Speaking and listening are often the most challenging parts of the TOEFL exam for non-native speakers. To improve these skills, practice speaking English daily, whether with classmates, friends, or even recording yourself. Listen to English podcasts, watch English movies, and engage with native speakers whenever possible.

8. Join Study Groups

Joining a study group can provide additional support and motivation. Collaborating with peers allows you to share knowledge, clarify doubts, and learn from each other's strengths. Study groups can also provide a sense of camaraderie, making the preparation process less daunting.

9. Stay Positive and Manage Stress

Maintaining a positive attitude and managing stress are crucial for effective learning. Take regular breaks, engage in physical activities, and practice relaxation techniques like meditation or deep breathing exercises. Keeping a healthy balance between study and relaxation helps maintain your mental well-being and keeps you focused.

10. Seek Feedback and Act on It

Regular feedback from your instructors is invaluable for improving your performance. Pay close attention to their comments and suggestions, and actively work on the areas they highlight. Constructive feedback helps you understand your mistakes and provides guidance on how to improve.

Conclusion

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#ielts institute in faridabad #ielts institute #celpip preparation course #ielts classes in faridabad #ielts coaching near me #study abroad consultants in faridabad #ielts institute near me #english speaking course in faridabad #toefl coaching classes in faridabad

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missjomarch · 1 year

Text

catching flights

luca fantilli x reader word count: 1.5k warnings: none :) just fluff a/n: unedited and first writing in a while. I needed something to force the writers block out of me :')

You anxiously drummed your fingers against your arm rest as you glanced out the window for what felt like the millionth time. It had been about 10 minutes since the flight attendant announced that the plane would be landing soon, instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts. However, it wasn't the landing that had your heart pounding.

You hadn't seen your family or your boyfriend, Luca, in 5 months. Originally, you had been ecstatic to embark on your study abroad trip to France. But you had been entirely unprepared for how much you would miss the people back home, Luca especially.

Having moved from your home in New York to Michigan for college, you were accustomed to being distanced from your family. However, you'd been with Luca almost everyday for the past year and a half. While you two had never navigated a long distance relationship, you were both confident your relationship could survive the trip.

You had planned the whole thing out, scheduling FaceTime dates often and promising to update each other pictures throughout the week (yours were admittedly a lot more interesting). Luca even had flowers delivered to you from a local florist in France on multiple occasions. Your love didn't dwindle with the distance, but it was the smaller things the two of you didn't account for prior to the trip.

Both of you struggled with the time difference, of course, but being without each others support on the hard days was the most difficult part. You couldn't go curl up in Luca's bed after a bad day, or meet him for coffee during your class break. There were no pregame naps or post win parties to be had. But the absolute worst part was missing hockey playoffs.

Luca was always incredibly hard on himself after a loss, and the playoffs only amplified this. You had to watch through your phone screen as he broke down after losing in the championship. You didn't think it could get worse than the lose to Quinnipiac the year before, but somehow it had. You did your best to comfort him from afar, but it shattered your heart seeing his pain and being unable to just be there. Not only did it pain you to see Luca's defeat, but the rest of the boys as well. The team had become your family, most of the boys even referred to you as 'mom', and you hated being unable to comfort them.

After that night in April, time seemed to go by a little quicker, and you were now finally headed home. You had begun counting down the days until your return the second your plane landed in France. And, despite him chastising you for this, so had Luca. But the day had finally come, and Luca would be waiting to pick you up and the airport.

He had texted you that morning to let you know he'd be picking you up instead of your mom. To say you were excited would be a drastic understatement. Originally, he wasn't going to be able to come see you in New York until 2 weeks after your arrival because of a golf trip with 'the boys'. But, in his words, he "missed you too much". So he skipped the trip to come welcome you home instead.

The plane landed at the airport right on schedule, and you quickly grabbed your carry-on before making your way to baggage claim. After you told Luca you had landed, he sent you the location of where he'd be waiting. You were about to burst with excitement, entirely prepared to grab your bag and haul ass to the airport lobby.

However, as you descended on the escalator you noticed a familiar blond smiling up at you. Luca had already grabbed your bags, and was waiting for you near a bench in the corner.

You couldn't stop the wide grin that formed, and you had to refrain from toppling over the people in front of you on the escalator. As soon as you reached the bottom, you were sprinting towards him.

"Lu!" you shouted, dropping your bags and practically tackling your boyfriend. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs found his waist, and you were finally reunited. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't get overly emotional, but you could feel the tears that were beginning to well. Luca chuckled as you clung to him, wrapping his arms around you to return the tight embrace.

"There's my girl," Luca mumbled into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume for the first time in months.

You couldn't care less about the attention you had attracted with your dramatic display. It was just you and Luca in the world right now, that's all that mattered. You basked in his embrace for what felt like hours. He didn't release his hold until he heard your sniffles, only then did he pull away to look at your tear streaked face.

A look of concern crossed his face, "Hey, no tears. What's that all about?"

"I just really missed you," you mumbled, slightly embarrassed by your level of emotion.

Luca had set you down now, and his hands came up to brush your hair from your face before resting on your cheeks. A small smile played at his lips.

"I missed you too, love. But there's no need for tears. You're back with me now, yeah?" You nodded in response, sending a small smile back. "And you're literally not going to be able to get rid of me for the entire summer. You're gonna be tired of me before the month is over."

You shook your head at this, "I could never get tired of you, Lu."

Luca didn't respond, instead leaning down to give you a long overdue kiss. Your hands made their way to grab where his wrists rested by your face. You pulled away before the kiss could get too intense, but you both still pulled away breathing heavily.

Luca rested his forehead against yours, "God, I missed that so much."

"Really?" You scoff, playfully shoving his shoulder, "Is that all I'm good for Fantilli?"

"Well I definitely didn't miss your attitude," Luca rolled his eyes, only to be met with you smacking him across the head. He quickly corrected himself.

"Ouch. I mean of course not, baby. I love everything about you."

"That's what I thought." You were about to place another kiss to your boyfriend's lips when an all too familiar voice sounded to your left.

"You guys can't seriously be fighting already."

"Come on Fants, she just got back."

You look to find none other than Seamus and Rutger approaching you. You gasp, quickly wiggling out of Luca's hold to throw your arms around the boys.

"MY BABIES!!" You exclaim, practically jumping with excitement. Luca stands to the side, jaw dropped as he watches the interaction.

"Damn, Fantilli. We've done stole your woman," Rutger pokes at Luca, giggling at the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

"You two were supposed to wait in the car," Luca grumbles, voice exposing his mild jealousy.

"And miss this reaction? Not a chance, bro."

Luca only glares at Seamus, turning to wrap his arm around your waist. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple before mumbling a "surprise" in your ear.

"Careful, Lu. You're looking a bit green." You whisper back to your boyfriend.

Luca groans, "The least they could do is give me 15 minutes alone with my girlfriend. Who I haven't seen in 5 months, in case you forgot." Luca sends a pointed look to the two boys standing before you.

They both just shrug, throwing their hands up in mock surrender.

"Neither have we, bro. That's our mom. It's on you for bringing us along," Rutger says.

"And I'm sure you guys will get plenty of alone time tonight," Seamus suggests, winking at you.

"Okayyyy, that's enough of that," You joke, "I'm going to guess this means the boys trip wasn't actually canceled on my account."

"More like relocated," Luca responds with an innocent smile. You just roll your eyes, nodding in acceptance.

"We promise not to steal him away too much, y/n. Don't you worry."

You let out a small laugh, "thanks shea."

Turning to Luca, you yawn slightly. "I am incredibly jet lagged though, so can we go home?" Luca nodded, turning to grab your bags. You stop him, and he looks back at you confused.

You jerk your head to the two idiots behind you, "let them get it."

"I think your thinking," Luca smiles at you before intertwining his hand with yours. The boys grumble, but pick up your luggage nonetheless. They complain the entire way to the car, only to be met with your apathy.

"You two are the ones who decided to come inside. You could've been sitting pretty in the car instead," you smarted back. This shut them up quickly, and you looked up to find Luca grinning at you.

"What?"

"I missed you so much."

#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #umich hockey #hockey #seamus casey #rutger mcgroarty

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ficsbyuzi · 4 months

Text

All the ways lead to you - part 1

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Inara Maegyr (Original female character) in a Modern HOTD AU

Warnings : FICTIONAL PLOTLINE. Established relationship. Me swooning over Aemond Targaryen and writing this🤭 Inara being a sweet and awesome girl.

Note: This post and that a mutual of mine (@/elegantsplendour) remarked that this fic series has 'Succession' vibes. I wasn't aware of the show when I wrote this last year, and I still haven't watched it. Any resemblance to its plot is purely coincidental. Everything that is going to be re-posted here, comes from my delulu mind.

Inara's thoughts and a little background about her are in italics.

Word count - 1.2k

"You know me, mom, I can't just start working in some random hospital as a junior doctor," Inara spoke to her mother on phone, cradling it between her ear and shoulder as she watered her kitchen plants on a Saturday afternoon, “I am trying to find a job where I can practice both medicine and my art.”

"Where on earth will you find such a job, Inara?" Her mom questioned disapprovingly. "You will soon be a licensed doctor and able to practice medicine. You should start with a clinician job and save up for your MD tuition."

"Let me at least try, Mum. Maybe I can join some makeup manufacturing labs or intern with those big-shot skincare providers."

Inara heard her mom sigh and tut in response to her plans, a reaction she was quite used to by now. Yet, the conviction in her voice didn't falter as she continued, "I will definitely enroll in an MD program. Don't worry.”

As long as Inara could remember, she had always loved makeup. Even as a child, she would rummage through her mom's makeup kits and spend hours in front of the mirror, painting her own face and sometimes her mother's.

Her parents always wished to see her in the white coat of a doctor - a dream she shared with them. Cracking the medical entrance exams straight out of high school was a cakewalk, her sharp intellect paving the way for her.

Despite plenty of medical schools in Essos, the allure of studying abroad was too strong and liberating. The prestige of the renowned Citadel Medical School in Westeros had captured her attention long ago, and securing a seat there felt like destiny fulfilled.

While medical school required her to focus entirely on classes and books, her creative side yearned for exploration. Her love for makeup never faded, and after dedicating half her life to studying, she decided to follow her heart. A heart that always danced between two worlds, two passions, yearning to embrace both simultaneously.

As soon as she adjusted to her new life on a foreign land, she enrolled into a weekend certification course near her medical school. And, thus began her journey towards becoming a rare combination of a licensed medical practitioner and a trained makeup artist.

Days blurred into nights as she balanced the demands of medical studies with the pursuit of her passion.

Six years flew by in a whirlwind of learning and she was now nearing the end of her curriculum. After the sixth and last month of her hospital training and formal graduation, she would be a licensed medical practitioner. Thanks to her dedication to both medicine and makeup, she now stood as a certified makeup artist, with an expertise in skin care and prosthetics.

After freelancing a bridal makeup assignment a couple of months ago, she decided to take a detour from a predictable route towards advanced degrees or clinical positions straight after college. She planned to give herself a year of exploration into other career options before enrolling into an MD in Dermatology. And so she made up her mind on freelancing or finding a job that could extend her stay in Westeros, thereby allowing her to save up for her MD.

"Anyway, you've been so busy with everything else, you haven't even thought about finding someone. You're not getting any younger!" Her mom steered the course of the conversation to the topic she dreaded the most.

Oh boy, here it comes!

The inevitable discussion about her biological clock and society's expectations for single women was about to begin.

"Mom, please, I'm twenty four, not forty four!"

"Yes, and about time you started thinking of settling down!"

Rolling her eyes, Inara let out a sharp sigh.

"I have chores to do, mum. I gotta go," she cut the conversation short, trying her best to hide her rising impatience, “Bye! Love you!”

"Fine, But please think about what I said. Love you. ”

After ending the call, Inara continued staring at her phone's home screen. Smiling faces of her family stared back.

Her mom’s words still lingered in her mind, as she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and settled herself infront of her laptop.

She sipped her tea, smiling and recalling her mom's statement about doing tons of different things at a time. She had always loved to hustle. And, she loved how chimeric her career goals were. It wasn't an easy road, but she was determined to make it work somehow. Career satisfaction had always been her first priority; finding someone to date or marry, wasn't.

Inara's attention snapped back to her laptop screen, her eyes widening as she noticed the fourth and fifth unread emails from the top. Both arrived around the same time from the job search website she had signed up for.

The subject of the first email read:

Requirement of an assistant make-up artist on an upcoming TV Show.

The second one read:

Requirement of a physician / medical officer(s) on a TV production.

Universe works in the strangest of ways. All you have to do is ask.

She quickly opened both emails in separate tabs. They were from the human resources department of a television production house in King’s Landing. A period drama based on mythological history was in pre-production, and the HR team was hiring people on contract basis.

As someone who rarely watched television,or movies, she chuckled at the thought of working on a TV production house. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a try. With a few quick clicks, she accessed the links for both the positions and uploaded her resume. As she crafted cover letters for each position, wishful thoughts surfaced again. She let out another exhilarating chuckle, as a wave of nervous excitement crawled down her spine.

How fun and cool it would be, if I could somehow do both the jobs simultaneously.

A week later, as Inara was on her way home from the hospital where she interned, her phone rang. Seeing a number with the King’s Landing code, she gasped.

With her heart alight with anticipation, she answered the call. Clearing her throat, she adopted her sweetest and most professional tone before greeting the caller.

"Hi, Dr. Maegyr, this is Stannis calling from the HR department at Red Keep Productions. We've shortlisted your resume for the opening we posted about. Will you be available for an interview next week?"

"Hello, Mr. Stannis. Sure, I...I will be available!" She tried her best to mask the excitement in her voice. "Uh, I applied for two positions. May I know which one I have been shortlisted for?"

"Dr. Maegyr, your profile is one of the most interesting we've received so far. You have been called to interview for both positions. I can't say with certainty right now if you'll be hired for one or both roles as that will be decided based on your performance in the interviews." She could sense his smile through the phone.

"Thank you," she mouthed, looking up, her amber eyes sparkling with gratitude.

---x----

Part 2

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wonwins · 4 months

Text

unspoken bond

itadori yuji x reader - non sorcerer!au

maybe in another life you wouldn't have been so oblivious

cw: angsts, fluff if you squint, timeskips

wc: 909

author's note ~ writing is my form of procrastination lol also how do you even conclude stories wth?!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

yuji was your soulmate. maybe it was romantic or maybe it was just platonic. it was painful to everyone around you two to see how much love you held for each other. you were fools nonetheless. you loved yuji and he loved you–not that you ever uttered those words to each other before–over time you just knew.

to everyone else it was so obvious. the way your mood would change if he wasn’t in class or the way yuji would be slightly more reserved when you weren’t around. you brought out the better qualities of each other. everyone could hear the agonising jokes yuji made yet it made tears run down your face from laughter or see the way you two would sit together at the back of class with your heads together giggling until the teacher would tell you to be quiet or just move you across the rooms from one another.

you guys thought, “that’s what friends do, no?”

in private was another story. of course people thought there was something more between you two while you were out in public, often being mistaken as a couple when you would go out for lunch together which you two would laugh about. but in private it was the way you would confide in each other. be there when the other one was struggling. a shoulder to rest on. the way when you were feeling sad, yuji would wrap his arm around you as you curled into his chest.

sometimes you would just sit in silence but in each other's company. at times someone would slip out without a word and come back with food and silently pass it to one another. since you were young, it was like you’ve been able to communicate without words.

the end of high school was growing near and it was stressing you out. you were nervous for what life after high school meant. you had kept yourself in this little bubble, not thinking about what it would mean to be an adult.

as well you and yuji were parting. it caused your heart to hurt just thinking about it. yuji was going to university in tokyo but you were planning on going abroad for your post-secondary studies.

it was coming faster than you thought. you made sure to spend as much time together whether that be playing video games or lying in the sun reading (well you would read, yuji would just sleep…and occasionally just watch as your faces changed depending on what you were reading about).

yuji was there with your family while you said goodbye at the airport. tears threatening to fall, you hugged everyone first before moving to yuji. you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him like you’d never see each other again. you promised each other to keep in contact and see each other when you got back.

“i love you, yuji.” you murmured. it was like there was another meaning to your words, and if there was you were leaving anyways no point to dwelling on it. it was time to part ways.

“i love you too, yn.” he said, his voice slightly wavering like he was going to cry.

you pulled back and laughed quietly. “don’t cry on me now!”

“shut up, i’m not!”

“yeah yeah whatever.” you smiled. a smile that yuji wish he could bottle up and hold dear to himself forever.

months passed and you both had started school in different places. it took a while to get used to life without each other. you wondered if maybe you would ever feel whole again. you would find yourself missing his hugs when you were homesick.

maybe later you would reconnect and things would be like they were before or maybe you had reached that point in life where you were meant to leave for you own journeys.

you’d sometimes look at his social media and see a girl. he looked so happy with her. the aching in your chest lasted for days, weeks even. maybe you did love him and not in the way you always thought.

yuji felt like shit. he didn’t feel for this girl like he did for you. he has known for years that he loved you more than a friend. he often had girls ask him out but would decline in hopes that some day you might feel the same. when you left, yuji felt so sad. he messaged one of the girls to ask if her offer for coffee was still open.

over the years you slowly lost contact. it just happened slowly. you'd get so wrapped up in your studies that you'd forget to reply for a day, then a week until it became mainly birthdays you'd message.

it wasn’t till years later you ran into each other. the ring on your finger and the little baby that you held in your arms panged yuji’s heart but he was happy to see you happy.

you knew yuji your whole life. you saw the glance at your ring and then the way his eyes flickered. your heart twisted for what could have been.

maybe in another life yuji would tell you how he felt earlier. maybe in other life you would have kept in contact with him trying to reconnect when you came back to japan.

all you hoped was that in another life yuji was still your soulmate. you wouldn’t trade that for the world.

#x reader #angst #yuji itadori x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk angst #anime #yuji itadori #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen

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obae-me · 1 year

Note

Hi, I’m so glad you’re back. Can you do Mammon and MC going on vacation in the human world with MC’s family?

Thank you

❤️❤️❤️

Of course I can! What a cute idea! Since I know there’s so many different family situations out there, I’m going to do my best to keep the family details as vague and general as possible! Thank you for the request! Also I wasn't sure if this was meant to be in a more friendly or romantic aspect, but it was hard for me to deny a couple's vacation, so I hope it's okay being Mammon x MC!

“Once more, from the top!”

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto their bed in their room. “Come oooon,” he whined. “Don’t make me go through all that again.” He attempted to beg, giving them some version of puppy eyes, his lips pleading with the human to give him a break.

They, unfortunately for him, would not stand down, no matter how adorable he may seem. “Mammon, you’re going to meet my family. My human family. In the human world. And I hate to break it to you, but neither you nor your brothers are very good at blending in. At all.” Which is why MC had spent way too long creating a plausible backstory, and why they were pressing Mammon so hard to remember it.

It had been about a month ago when MC’s family first reached out, sending them a letter about what they were missing at home. How did a human letter reach the Devildom in the first place? Probably thanks to Diavolo. The other humans were, obviously, still completely in the dark about where MC truly was, figuring they were simply studying abroad and not in what most humans would call hell. And in the contents of that letter was a suggestion of a vacation. A fully paid and fully planned vacation. After all, school would be out for a short break, and they wanted a chance to see MC again...and about this supposed ‘boy’ that MC had mentioned before.

“Why not just tell them about me? They’re your family after all, right?” He wondered, sitting back up on the bed with his legs crossed under him, his arms tucked near his knees.

They folded their arms, tilting their head at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously asking that.” Well, now he looked a little wounded. They sighed, sitting next to him, putting their hand on his head. “Maybe in the future we can, but this is their first time meeting you. Aside from the hundred other problems revealing yourself would cause, trying to bring you and your realm’s entire existence up over dinner would either get me sent to a hospital or give them all mental breakdowns over the revelation that essentially everything they’ve ever known is a lie.”

His face suggested that he didn’t retain any of that, so focused on grinning like an idiot over MC’s touch, but then he finally looked at them curiously. “You didn’t have a mental breakdown.”

Sweet naïve boy. They did. They really did. But that wasn’t their main focus right now. “The point I’m trying to get across is that it's really important to me that we keep the truth a secret right now so we all can have a good time, okay? So please, can we go over the story together one more time so I don’t feel so nauseous?”

He finally sighed, his eyes softening towards them. “I didn’t realize it was that important to ya. Okay, just watch and see, I’ll be the best human ever!”

---

When they had heard the words ‘all-expenses-paid-vacation’, they expected, sure, maybe the hotel rooms and meal costs, but no...it was all paid for. Every single cent. Whatever their family didn’t cover, Diavolo did. Even this fancy rental car, which Mammon was more than happy to immediately jump into as soon as Barbatos had dropped them both off. “Yeah, baby!” He had shouted, leaping into the driver’s seat of the convertible.

MC couldn’t help but be a little hesitant. “Do you even know how to drive up here?”

“Yeah I do!” He beamed for a moment before his face fell a little bit, looking a bit annoyed. “Had to work hard for it too. Your laws up here are seriously ridiculous.” Then the moment of seriousness had passed. He leaned over to the other side of the car, grabbing the passenger side handle and pushing the door open. “Get in!”

With a playful roll of their eyes, MC loaded both theirs and Mammon’s luggage inside the vehicle before seating themselves in the car. It was...kind of nice, being in the human realm, seeing Mammon behind the wheel of a human car, a silly Hawaiian shirt on like one of those old dads that go on vacation. He adjusted his sunglasses, fiddling with the radio till some song that appealed to his taste pumped out the speakers. After making sure he was buckled up properly, they both set out on the road, the sun beaming down on them, the smell of the ocean in the air.

“Pop-quiz time!” MC announced, letting their hand hover off to the side, the air gusting through their open fingers.

Mammon groaned, keeping his eyes trained on the road no matter how much he wanted to turn to give them a glare of annoyance. “No quizzing on vacations!”

“Question one!” As they ignored him, his face scrunched up into a little pout. “Who are you, handsome stranger?”

He scoffed a bit, but they caught the redness that came to his cheeks. “Name’s Mason.”

MC clapped their hands together in a bit of glee. “Good!” At the praise, the color in his cheeks deepened. “What’re you going to school for?”

“Finance and fashion design.”

They leaned back in their seat, feeling a bit calmer knowing that he was actually retaining all this information. This whole human bit might work out after all. “And how did we meet?”

He sighed heavily. “It sounds so plain and simple! Not super special at all!” As they both slowed down to stop at a red light, he finally looked at them, a sulky look in his eyes. "Why couldn't we go with my idea?"

“Because," MC continued, their eyes softening at him. The idea had been really cute. He suggested that the story be that MC was crossing the street, when a car ran right through a red, trying to escape the blaring sirens of the cops chasing them! They were criminals, and now they were about to run into someone! He had seen this and courageously ran through the street to grab them, pulling them aside to safety. Somehow, at the end of his story, he had saved MC and then they both managed to stop the criminals, both of them getting reward money for doing so, and with that money, Mammon would suavely ask MC out for dinner. Obviously he had fashioned the story off some movie they had watched earlier. "The more cliché it is, the less my family will question it. Now, Mason, how did we meet?”

As traffic moved forward, he turned his head away from them, his answer monotone. “We share the same math general class together, but didn’t start talking to each other till we got grouped up for a project.”

“And after I asked you to help study with me for tests, we found we clicked! Perfectly human!” They reached over to rub his shoulder, lowering their hand to open the GPS on your phone. “We’re meeting my family at the airport. From there, we’ll check in at the hotel and go out to lunch.” They waited for him to make some sort of reply, but when he never did they raised their head. He suddenly looked too serious, mouth in a tight line, hardly looking at the scenery they both were passing. “Mammon?” He was caught up in his own head it seemed. MC turned down the music on the radio and placed their hand on his arm.

He blinked, removing one of his hands from the wheel to grab their hand. “I don’t wanna mess this up. I know how important it is to ya.”

They gave his hand a squeeze and then released it to let him place it back on the steering wheel. “You won’t. We wont. We’ll just keep to the story and enjoy our time up here, okay? Swimming, sand, surfing, sunning, just focus on that, okay? Oh, and don’t forget we need to bring all your brothers back a souvenir.”

He lightened a little bit at that, the little golden highlights in his hair shimmering under the human sun.

---

"MC!" Their name was called, picked up above the other busy voices in the airport. MC turned and grinned, holding their arms out for the inevitable embrace. Their family member wrapped their arms around them and grinned, pulling back shortly. "It's been so long! You look good. You've been okay so far from home?"

"I've never been better!" MC expressed, stating what mostly was the truth. Sure there had been bumps and bruises and...worse than that, but the time they had spent in the Devildom was an enjoyable one overall.

"And this is..." Someone else from MC's family spoke up, looking towards Mammon who was actually pacing a little bit behind MC, trying not to stand out too much.

It took Mammon a moment to collect himself, coming to stand by MC and hold his hand out. "I'm Mam--Mason," he shared, taking the hand of one of the humans and giving it a firm shake.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" The person that had given MC the hug came over and led them away, everyone grabbing luggage to take outside. "He seems sweet. You'll have to tell me all about him!"

Mammon was suddenly left alone with the remaining members, obviously trying not to panic, laughing nervously at jokes as he kept up his human disguise. He helped take some of the family's luggage as he quickly followed behind MC. "So!" He exclaimed, changing the subject as he stood by MC's side. "Where we heading for lunch?"

One of the humans pulled up an image on their phone. "I found what looks to be a popular local restaurant not too far from here, and it's beachside too! A little pricy, but who could pass up eating and then going right out to swim? See?"

"That looks perfect? See, Mam-- babe?" They felt themselves almost sweating. They tried so hard to get Mammon to remember his 'new name' and yet they almost just let it slip themselves. Their quick thinking seemed to work though, although Mammon almost seemed like he was unable to breathe. MC encouraged Mammon to look at the photo which seemed to snap him out of it. Now he just seemed pumped.

"I'm going to eat so much sushi," he beamed.

"That's the spirit!" One of MC's family members announced. MC grinned. They were all getting along just fine.

MC jogged ahead a bit, looking back at the group as they nodded. "Let's all head back to the hotel so we can put away our stuff and grab our swimsuits! We've got plenty of sunlight left, people! Let's make the most of it!"

---

Lunch went really well. Everyone ordered too much expensive food and yet somehow managed to pack it all away. MC's family kept asking questions, and suddenly Mammon seemed more than happy to answer. It was mostly a little session to gush about how much he knew and liked about MC, and it was hard to tell if he was trying to get on their family's good side or if he really just enjoyed talking about them that much. Either way, it was sweet, even if it was clear that some members of MC's family found some things hard to believe. No demonic secrets were spilled at least.

But what they were all looking forward to was the beach. Everyone was dressed and ready. MC's family brought plenty of towels and toys to keep all of them entertained. They set up their spot away from the others, MC sitting in the shade of a large beach umbrella while they watched some others drag Mammon away for a little frisbee competition. They'd let him go and have a little bit of fun before dragging him away for them to be on their own for a little bit. For now though, they'd watch him mingle with the humans, a surprising smile on his face. For someone who seemed to not be able to stand humans when they first visited the Devildom, he seemed to be having a lot of fun with them.

Someone sat next to MC, opting out of the frisbee game to sit under the shade, opening a cooler to pull out a chilled can. They looked over at the others and then back at MC. "He seems like a good one."

"Hm?" MC looked back over at their family member, snapping out of their thoughts as the sound of the opened can cracked.

"Mason." They gestured towards Mammon, nodding a bit. "I was a little worried--"

"Oh please," MC sighed a little.

"I was! Here you are, disappearing all the sudden to study abroad and then later tell us you're with someone. We don't get pictures, we hardly get calls, we get a hand-written letter of all things, so yes, we were all a bit worried. But..." They leaned over and placed a hand on MC's shoulder. "There's something about him...can't quite place it, but he's...different. I can tell he's been good to you."

MC's heart swelled a little. They looked up towards Mammon right as he looked back. When they locked eyes, he beamed and waved, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout. "You better watch me beat these losers!"

MC cheered him on as he turned back towards the other humans. Then they felt MC's company nudge them a bit. "Is it true he's got six other siblings?"

"Uh, yeah," MC answered honestly.

"Next time we do this, we'll have to invite all of them. Imagine how fun that would be!"

MC chuckled nervously. Trying to get all seven demons to control themselves accordingly?...Sounds almost more like a nightmare. But also...Maybe there would be a proper day where they'd all get to meet. The humans MC cared most of all meeting the demons they cared for most of all. "I think that would be nice." Although, as the frisbee game seemed to be ending, MC got up quickly, hoping to get away for a bit before they were asked any more questions. "Be back in a bit!" They jogged over warm sand to snatch Mammon by the hand, dragging him away.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mammon wondered as they both headed towards the sea.

MC looked back at him, feeling the waves coming up to wash over their feet. "I just wanted you to myself for a bit, that's all." They headed over to a quieter part of the beach, walking towards the ocean till the water was at their waist. "Thank you," they suddenly said, looking out towards the waves, listening to the happy screams of children, to the birds above them.

"Huh?" Mammon moved to stand in front of them, holding their arms in his hands. "Why? What did I do?"

"Just...for everything. For coming up here, for following this story I made up, for getting along with my family. I hope you're having fun, I know you're not really used to being away from the others."

"You're here, that's all that really matters to me, you know that."

MC felt a warm tug in their chest. "I know. I love you."

Mammon had to look away for a moment, but inevitably glanced back. "I love you too." MC pulled at him a bit, gesturing for a kiss. PDA typically embarrassed him, but who was he to deny something like that? He closed his eyes and leaned over just in time to get a sudden splash of water in the face. He spluttered a bit, watching MC laugh and suddenly swim away. "Oi! You little....Come back!" He meant to sound frustrated, but he couldn't help but laugh, diving into the ocean to catch his human, snatching them by the waist. "Gotcha. Gimmie what you owe me."

"Fine, fine," MC, turning in his grasp to plant a kiss on his lips. "Hm, too salty."

"And whose fault is that for splashing me, huh? I think I deserve interest for that!"

MC wrapped their arms around his neck and kissed him once more, rubbing his back a little as they parted. "There, happy now?"

He hummed like he was thinking it over. "For now." They both waded in the water a bit, enjoying each other's company. "I'm really glad I get to be here with you. This has only been one day and yet I feel like the happiest demon in the world. This is going to be a great vacation."

"Yeah," MC agreed, the last bit of anxiety they were holding suddenly unraveled while they were in his arms. They looked off in the distance where their family was playing. "It will be."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #gn!mc

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