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nezuscribe · 5 months

Text

𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you have everything you could have asked for in life. a beautiful home in greenwhich, just far away from london so that you don't have to mingle with city life, but close enough to be surrounded by the ton. a library with all the books you could ask for and a friend you care for dearly. all except for the man of your dreams, who just so happens to be your best friends brother. worst of all, he only sees you as such. his sisters best friend. (bridgerton!au)

warnings: 18+ mdni, gojo doesn't know how to communicate his feelings, slight angst (with comfort), smut, eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, (happy ending)

word count: 17.3k+ (i have no idea how)

note: yes, this is inspired by penelope and colin. yes, i know that colin isn't a viscount. their story is coming out later than expected so i took matters into my own hands. tysm @jadeisthirsting for beta reading! (if you saw this the first time no you didn't, i hope tumblr doesn't glitch out again)

jjk masterlist

You had a great life, as far as it went.

You were born into a wealthy family, far more wealthy than they deserved to be. You had maids at your beck and call and did not need to worry about the future as long as you acted correctly. You had book upon books, as many as you could dream of, so long as you didn’t bore your mother too much with them. You had any sort of food you could dream of and you had the most caring friend in the world who loved you very much.

Honestly, what more could a woman ask for?

“I say we move the whole ordeal to Friday, seeing how Satoru is only arriving on Wednesday. But my mother insisted that we keep in on Thursday because the rest of London just couldn’t wait to see my dashing brother…” Lily continued her furious rant as she paced back and forth the vast expanse of your family’s drawing room, shaking her head in clear frustration.

“And you want it to be a day later…because…?” You sipped quietly on your tea, trying to keep your smile at a minimum. It was hard not to get giggly when Lily’s face got red and her eyes bugged out of her sockets. For such a pretty girl it tended to shift her features whenever she got angry or annoyed.

“Well, he’s going to be tired!” She stopped her pacing as she stared at you with her mouth a bit open as if it were the most obvious answer, “And whenever Satoru is tired he’s so difficult to deal with. He’s going to want to talk about his travels for at least three days before he’s ready to mingle with the rest of the works!”

You nodded heavily, showing her that you were completely on her side.

“Has he written to you?” She asked and then quickly shook her head, despite the fact you were going to answer with a quiet yes to her question. He had written you a few letters, all of them stashed in your vanity as you read over them, each going over his travels, sometimes sending you little knick-knacks he saw.

“Not the point. What I’m trying to say is that my mother always goes over the limit with how much she welcomes her children. And Satoru for that matter! Christ, he’s twenty-five and unmarried!”

You wanted to sink into your seat in embarrassment. You were only so much younger and had never had even an interaction with a suitor before.

Life was great, for the most part.

As much as you couldn’t complain, there was a small matter at hand that was growing increasingly more alarming the more the years went on.

For as long as you could remember, you and Lily were set on never getting married. Ever since she read that one Jane Austen book she was hellbent on independence and no men. You tagged along, seeing how that was a better excuse than admitting no man had even asked you to join him to be his partner to dance before.

Lily didn’t seem to care much for this. While she was set on her celibacy pact, she had been approached before. It doesn’t change much, but it did at least show her that somebody wants her. You were either such as a spinster or married to some ancient man your mother had to dig out from some corner of the market.

“And Satoru…” Lily rambled on, but all it did was remind you of an even worse fact.

You were terribly in love with her brother.

You have known the Gojo family for ten years, five months, twelve days, and two hours, and you have been in love with Gojo Satoru for ten years, five months, twelve days, and thirty minutes.

Their family had immigrated from Japan months before the oldest child was born, but they had only moved to Greenwich ten years, five months, and ten days ago. You met them only two days later when you accidentally wandered into their gardens, unknowing that a family had just moved in.

The first time you met that particular Gojo, you were thirteen and facing serious issues with yourself and your own family. You wanted to move to America in hopes that the boys over there would fancy you more and your mother forbade it. Satoru laughed when he saw your horrified face popping up from their blackberry bush, definitely not expecting to see anybody there.

“Hello there,” the stranger called out. You thought he was a grandfather with the way his hair was artic white, but he only seemed to be a bit older than you the closer he got.

“I’m not stealing from you I swear!” You cried out as you let the blackberries tumble out of your stained hands. You cannot be taken to prison, you simply wouldn’t survive.

“I can see that.” He crossed his arms as he tried not to laugh at the way your dress was stained a dark blue color.

He introduced himself, and Lily, and soon, you and the girl were attached at the hip.

It didn’t help that as kind and as charming as he was, he only saw you as his sister's closest friend. It also didn’t help that every other woman in high society seemed to be in love with the man and it certainly made it so much more horrific that he seemed to have his eyes on everybody else but you.

He, much like his sister, was averse to the idea of marriage, but for a completely different reason.

He seemed to despise the idea of being committed, which is most likely why he had been traveling the entirety of Europe and Asia for the past year or so. Despite his mother’s frantic worrying about setting him up with a respectable lady, he pushed them all aside and fled (in some sense) and will be making his grand appearance a couple of days from now. Everybody is chattering with excitement. You’re trying not to fill with total impending dread.

It had already taken everything you had to pretend that he didn’t exist and that he had simply disappeared, and you knew your wretched mind would fall for him just as quickly as it did the first time around when you were set to see him next week.

“...and, are you even listening?” Lily asked, her voice garbling back to life as you snapped your eyes back to hers, covering your mouth with your teacup as you insistently nodded, trying to keep your smile from faltering as she squinted her eyes to look you over and see what was wrong.

“I’m totally in tune with you Lils,” you insisted, nibbling on a cookie to help you with nausea which only seemed to make it worse.

“Hm,” she grunted, not seeming to believe you but not truly caring as she continued, “And thank the heavens you’ll be there beside me, for who knows what would become of me in such an unruly crowd of men and women just waiting for my brother to make his entrance. I’d lose my sanity.”

Yes, you thought, how lucky. If only love worked that way, of ignoring it until it faded. If only.

“I’ll be there.” You promised.

For better or for worse, you’d be there.

---

The ball was just as you had imagined it.

Extravagant, elegant, large, and incredibly crowded.

One of the perks of being an outsider in these sorts of scenes is you didn’t have to dance anymore (no matter how much it stung the first time around getting used to this fact).

Lily was off somewhere, being forced to socialize. Your other sisters were also lost in the crowd, either dancing or being swooned by a potential match.

You were yet to see the man of the hour, but then again, so was everybody else. He was either hiding away or being swallowed whole by the hoards of people eager to get a glimpse of him.

Not that you wanted to see him, of course. Just curious.

The food was, as always, a bonus. Nobody was going to judge you for scarfing anything down when you had begrudgingly sworn off marriage, and perhaps one of the good things about Lily's pact was that you didn’t care much about the public eye anymore.

“Please, at least act like we’re not starving you.” Your mother pleaded, unfortunately, stuck to your side for the night as she eyes you and your plate.

“I’m trying my best,” you reasoned, making sure you didn’t drop anything on your dress.

“The Viscount is coming tonight,” she tried to think and you snorted, earning some distasteful looks from the widows around you.

“And he’s just dying to see me, I suppose?” You rolled your eyes at the idea, to help the sting from your own words. It was better to be rationable than to be delusional.

“Well it doesn’t hurt to-”

“Try?” You cut her off with another laugh as you chew on an eclair, “Might as well. Right after the Princess introduces herself I’ll go up.” The two of you eye the girl in the diamond-encrusted gown with an equally bright tiara on her head. Your mother gave up the argument.

For the last couple of days, you have been at a mental war with yourself. On the one hand, it surely must mean something if he wrote you letters. On the other one, he wrote it to his entire family and he probably views you as such. No matter how much you want to pretend that the Gojo cares for you, it won’t be in the same way that measures how much you care for him.

“I’m going to get some more of these macaroons, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself as your mother pressed her lips into a thin line, wanting to push you to dance but knowing no amount of persuading was going to change your mind when it was already set on something.

Wading through the dense crowd was certainly a feat, but you did it nonetheless. From the dessert table, you could barely make out the pop of chartreuse that was Lily's gown, and you wondered how much longer until she’d be free to giggle and gossip with you.

Your eyes scanned over the little sweets carefully as you mentally weighed which one would taste good and which one would be a surprise in the kindest sense of the word. The colorful ones were often pretty but they tested either too bland or too bitter and the ones with caramel side sugar tended to be too sweet. All the good macaroons with the pistachio filling were gone, which was odd because you could only count on your fingers how many people aside from you tended to favor that one.

“Looking for something?”

A green macaron was held in front of your face, slowly forcing you to turn your head in its direction as it began to pull away from you

Him.

“Oh!”

Oh? If only you could hit yourself in the head that would be great.

“Oh?” Gojo chuckled, his brows pinching together in slight confusion at your reaction as his lips threatened to pull into a teasing smile, “I haven’t seen you in a year and that's what you’ve got to say?”

You try not to let your heart flutter at his cheeky manner as you roll your eyes, your smile growing as you take him in.

He’s gotten taller if that was even possible. His hair is still as white as it was, and it seems that no amount of sun was going to change that. He’s gotten a little bit tanner, no longer that frigid pale hue to his skin that made you worry he’d drop dead at any moment. He’s unfortunately more muscular, which just means you have to cast away the scrawny image you’ve made in your mind in hopes that he’d come back anemic.

His eyes are just as captivating as ever, blue and inviting. His jaw is sharper and yet he has no facial hair on his face. Which you prefer on most men but you’re glad he’s never given into that trend.

Most importantly, he still looks like that boy you fell in love with so many years ago, and no time away would ever change you at your core.

You try to not let your neck prickle with heat as he seems to assess you the same way you're doing to him, try not to feel self-conscious as his eyes roam over your features. Sure, a person can change in a year, but you wouldn’t bet you’ve changed that much that would warrant this amount of staring.

“So…?”

“‘Toru, hi!” You snap out of your state, watching as his face picks up and breaks into a grin as you set your plate down somewhere, seemingly now realizing that Satoru is here and in front of you, “My, you’ve grown so much!”

“Really?” He looks at his torso and his arms as if he can’t believe it.

“Well, a bit,” you curse at your awkwardness as he cocks a brow, “I’m sorry, I’m a bit out of my element tonight. I apologize for my earlier reaction.” You duck your head down for a second as he waves it off, hopefully not offended.

You’re glad this little table is tucked away in an alcove away from most of the public eye, and the only people around the two of you are older people and the people standing outside in the gardens. Either they don’t see the man or they’re being somewhat human and granting the two of you some privacy.

“Apology accepted, but not needed,” he teases, patting your shoulder affectionately as you try not to act as if that single touch made you reconsider the idea of marriage.

“How are you?” He asks after a beat, not affected by your out-of-character attitude as he tilts his head to the side.

“As good I could be,” you offer him a wink that came off as an elongated blink, “Whatever Lily filled you in on has most likely happened to me too.” He chuckles, his laughter the sound of melted honey.

Fuck, you’re never going to get over him.

“And you? How were your trips?” You egged him on, eyes tracing him, watching as some pink dusted over his cheeks.

“Boring. Couldn’t wait to come back.” He says, but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. Mixed with the way he couldn’t contain his bits of laughter, you laughed alongside him.

“I’d believe it if not for your tan and newfound outlook on life, or so it seems from how Lily describes it.”

“She exaggerates everything,” he waves it off, and you wonder what that double-edged sword implies.

“I-”

“He’s here!” You hear a loud voice cut you off as the two of you look over your shoulder to see his mother leading the awaiting princess and her train to where the two of you are standing, “He seems to be getting warmed up with this fine lady!” She says your name as heat rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment.

It was only seconds before you were surrounded by men and women you had never seen before, all hanging off of Satoru’s words as he scrambled to answer all of their questions.

And so it begins, you say to yourself as you push away from them, going to find Lily as you wonder why you even try.

You miss the way he calls out for you, quiet enough so that nobody else hears it, but loud enough that his chest tightens in confusion at the sheer desperation of it.

---

“I despise men!”

You’re at the Gojo estate for once, and Lily has started a new tirade that has lasted for the last hour.

“What brought this on?” You press, exchanging worried glances with Satoru and her younger sister as she groans, jamming her palms into her eyes as she vehemently shakes her head.

“Does this,” she shoves her hand, more importantly, her ring finger without a ring, in front of your face, “Look like I’m keen on getting married to you?”

“No….?” You mutter, scared of what she would say next.

“Does it look like an invitation to barge into my home?”

“Not exactly,” You say, earning a sympathetic look for Satoru as she glares at him.

“Does it look like I want to get frisky in the broom cupboards?”

“Christ! Lily, your sisters here!” You shout, jumping to cover the young girl's ears. Lily waves it off and Satoru just chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes as you usher the girl out of the tea room as you slam the door shut.

“This certainly beats the beaches in Venice,” Satoru says as you near the table again, winking at you as you laugh quietly.

“I’m so glad I’m not getting married. You should be too,” she points her finger at you as you look up at her, “Men are nothing but evil, money hungry, sex driven-”

“Charming, majestic-” Satoru talks over her as she talks even louder.

“Dirty animals!” She finishes with a cry.

You and Satoru share a glance as you try to laugh. She’s not wrong, far from it. The majority of men in this place needed to be sent back to their creator, but Lily had a vein in his forehead that was protruding at an odd angle.

“You laugh now, but you’ll be thanking me fifty years from now.” She warns as you nod, acting totally compliant with her.

“You’re still with her on her no-marriage pact?” Satoru asks as he stands up, walking past Lily as he looks out from the window, seemingly admiring the gardens outside. He glances over at you as you sink into the satin cushions beneath you.

“Yes,” but your answer came out shaky and unsure.

“Of course she is,” Lily answered for you with a definite nod, “And besides, she’s the luckier one. It’s not like any man has even asked her to marry anyway.” She says jokingly, shoving a biscuit in her mouth as she plops herself down beside you, nudging your shoulder with hers as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

You wish the sofa could swallow you whole.

“Hey,” Satoru turns around, brows furrowed as he looks at his sister, but the door opens before he can finish his sentence.

“Miss Gojo,” their butler, Fred, who you’ve known since you’ve known Lily announces for her as he stands at the foot of the door, “Your mother has requested your presence in her quarters.”

Lily stands up with a groan, wiping the crumbs off of her dress as she makes sure there’s nothing around the corners of her mouth.

“I’m needed elsewhere,” she pats your arm caring for it despite having her words wanting to make you plummet yourself off of a cliff, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You give her a weak goodbye, watching as she leaves with the door shutting behind her as you sit up a bit straighter, getting ready to leave yourself.

You stand up, careful not to make any eye contact with Satoru out of sheer embarrassment as you smooth out the wrinkles in your dress, hoping the silence would suffocate you faster than it would him.

“Lily talks too much sometimes,” he finally says, stepping away from the window as he takes a two closer to your direction, before passing, “I’d apologize on her behalf but I’m pretty sure she’s already forgotten what she’s said.” He tries to lighten the mood and bless his soul, but you can already feel your spirits for the day sour.

“It’s alright,” you promise, though he seems to disagree but you continue anyway, “I know her, she doesn’t mean it.” Still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, a part of you chides.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, taking another tentative step forward.

“I was planning on it,” you say with a little chuckle, hoping that your eyes watering up wasn’t too noticeable, “Is that alright with you?”

He looked at you with his bright eyes and just blinked, taking a while to reach his senses.

“Y-yes! Yes, quite alright. Let me just get my coat…” He muttered, brushing past you as you quickly tried to reject his incoming offer.

“There’s no need!” You run a bit to catch up to him and his fast pace, “My house is barely two skips away,” you lamely joke, hoping he’d give it up. You wanted to wallow in your self-pity on your walk home, not have to converse with the one man who’d inadvertently give you more to pity over.

“Not a chance,” he argued, draping the coat in question over his arm, “What sort of person would I be if I let you walk out alone?”

Any other person, you wanted to say but stopped yourself.

“I don’t mean to bother you…” You wrong your hands in a nervous state, eyes darting everywhere but his.

You were trying to work on your silly crush this past week, which had unfortunately ramped up ever since he came back. In response, you worked out that the best solution to getting over it was to act like he didn’t exist and ignore him whenever possible. Clearly, it was working out completely in your favor.

“Not a bother at all.” He insisted, linking his other arms with yours as you jumped a bit in surprise. He was forward, if anything.

“Fred,” he calls out, getting the butler's attention as you try to hide yourself away, “Tell my mother I’ll be back in a bit.” The man just nods, opening up the front doors as Satoru leads the two of you out.

The sun was out and working away, which didn’t help with the heat already prickling away through your skin. The Gojo estate was large, but hidden away, and for that you were glad. You could only imagine the gossip that would arise if certain ladies in society were to see you (helplessly) draped over the bachelor's arm.

“Are you enjoying being back here?” You asked, trying to exert your confidence when you were feeling anything but.

It’s not like you were unsure of yourself at most times, it’s just that when you’re around the one man you’ve been in love with since childhood and he feels nothing of the sort, you can’t help but be more conscious over everything.

Satoru looked at you, shrugging as he pursed his lips, thinking of an answer.

“I missed it,” he says, “But I mainly came back for my family and my friends and well…” He trailed off, chewing on his lip as he waved off his thoughts as if it didn’t matter, “Nonetheless, now that I’ve been around them, I remember why I wanted to leave.”

And sometimes, despite him not wanting to, made you feel as if you were the most important person he’s had the pleasure of talking to, when in reality that’s just in his nature.

“Is Lily pestering you too much?” You tease, a little smile on your face that wrinkles the edges of your eyes. He simply stared at you again, his eyes bright.

“That,” he playfully tugged on your arm, “And the fact that my mother has bombarded me with the idea of marriage. And Luke is having troubles with his fiancé and Annie doesn’t want to learn to read…it’s all just very chaotic.” He finished with a tired laugh, as if that’s all he could muster up.

“Seems like a normal day in your house, if I’m being honest.” You lament, kicking a pebble with the point of your shoe.

“I guess so,” he heaves a sigh that comes out dramatically, “Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve put up with it all these years.”

You scoff, digging your elbow into his side a bit to show that you were offended by his statement.

“Your family is perhaps the closest thing I have to a second family!”

“And who says family can’t get on your last nerve?” He argued, and that shut you up. He was, indubitably, correct.

“Yes, well,” you stumble to find some reasoning and he laughs seeing you falter, knowing that he got you cornered, “‘Toru, you are simply a horrible influence to be around.” Is all you can come up with, and despite the severity of your words it only seems to spur him on even more.

“And yet you can’t seem to get enough of me, can you?”

You almost stopped in your tracks, your heart seizing in your chest as you try not to fumble up your well-made facade of indifference.

All you could remember upon his statement were the words he spoke so long ago, not knowing you’d heard them.

“Charles, you don’t get it, I don’t want a wife!” Satoru exclaimed as he snapped at his friend. It was a gala held at the queen's palace and you had strayed too far away from Lily and found yourself hiding behind a wall as you eavesdropped on the conversation.

“Not even the Princess?” Another man pushed as you heard Satoru let out a heavy sigh. You peeled around to see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want to be tied down. You saw what happened to my parents.” He argued. A part of you sympathized with him.

“Well,” you could make out this voice as his younger brother, two years older than you he went to thinking, “What about that friend of Lily’s? She seems nice enough.”

The hair on your arm pricked upwards. Surely they couldn’t be talking about you.

“Who?” Satoru asks and his brother says your name in a hushed whisper, as if you held more weight in your title than the Princess did.

“Her? No, absolutely not,” he said with such disgust that his friends thought he was joking, “You’re out of your mind if you’d think I’d want to court her.”

Your heart, full of love and hope and dreams cracked, crumbled in your chest. And you left, running away because that’s all you knew how to do and sobbed your eyes out to Lily, stating that you heard somebody talking bad about you, refusing to admit that it was her own brother that was causing you to break in front of her.

A part of you felt pathetic for still caring for him after that night, but there’s not much fight in you when it comes to the people you loved. You pulled away, sure, and stopped your lame excuses of flirting, but you never stopped. He never found out that you heard, so he continued as your friend and you continued as the shameless woman.

“Right,” you swallow thickly, glad that your estate is now growing closer and closer, knowing that you feel sick and can’t handle it anymore, “Thank you so much for your help, but I’m sure I can make the treacherous journey on my own now.”

You wring your hand away from his arm, you smile wobbling as you tip your head in his direction, watching him try to make sense of your quick change in nature.

“Let me take you up to your door,” he started but you raised your hand to silence him, shaking your head.

“That would be too much to ask for. I will leave you here…um, Satoru,” you say politely, not noting the way his jaw clenched at your sudden formality when addressing him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

And you left quickly before he could say anything else. You must stay focused on the reality of your situation;

Your best friend's brother just simply wasn’t in love with you.

---

“Miss,”

You perked up from your chair in your quaint little library, setting your book down as you watched one of the maids, Ella, politely calls from the door.

“There’s a gentleman outside calling for you.”

Your brows furrowed as you found a marker so that you don’t lose your place and purse your lips together in questioning.

“Do you know who…?” Your head cocked to the side as you stood up, walking near her as you wondered if it were that delivery boy who said he’d come with the new copies of the Brontë books you’d been eyeing for the past month.

“It’s the Viscount Gojo, miss.” She said simply.

Your face dropped, and you watched as confusion spread across hers.

“Him? Here? Did he say what was wrong?” You began to rustle around, trying to find something to throw on top of your slip.

Did something happen to Lily? Did she run away? Was their mother in trouble? You could recall her telling you that her head was aching, could something serious have happened because of that? Christ, you should have told somebody about it rather than comfort her and make her tea. Was he leaving again? Perhaps-

“He said he wanted to see you miss, that’s all he told me.” She seemed apprehensive, judging your face to see if you were maybe feeling ill due to your reaction.

“Um, alright, just,” you hurried around, trying your fastest to get to your room, “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes! Don’t tell him I’m preparing myself, just say that I was discussing matters with somebody!” You call out as you sprint across the halls, not hearing any confirmation as you lock yourself in your room, ransacking your closet to find something not too flashy but not too boring.

It took a good four minutes just to find a suitable dress and another five to make your face and hair look presentable enough as you scampered down the stairs only to find said Viscount waiting in the foyer.

His face turned to yours as he heard your heels clicking on the marble, growing into a bright smile as he dipped his head down to greet you.

“Hello,” he said your name with that smooth voice of his as he took his jacket off and kept it on his arm, “I’m sorry for turning up on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” you try to catch your breath for the first time in the last ten minutes as your chest heaves slightly up and down, “No problem at all. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He takes a second to respond, eyes scanning your features, your clothing, your chest as it tries to catch a solid breath, and you feel yourself look down to make sure there aren't any noticeable wrinkles in the fabric.

“I, I just wanted to drop in. See how you were doing.”

You tried not to look even more startled, but your brows creased once again as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek.

“I’m quite alright…thank you…?” You couldn’t look that out of the ordinary, right?

“Good, that’s good,” he watched as you finished your descent down the stairs, slowly coming towards him as you waited for him to finish, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation with…?” Ella did give him a name you wanted to guess.

“Lord Cornwallis.” You finished for him, not knowing why that was the first name that came to your mind. It was true that he had been here yesterday, but you didn’t talk much to him in his brief visit.

“Lord Cornwallis?” Satoru repeated back in shock, his brows shooting upwards as he did nothing to hide his outburst. His face quickly turned into one of disgust, which accurately represented the emotions you felt yesterday when you eavesdropped on the conversation he had with your mother behind closed doors.

“Yes, you just missed him. He went out through the back door,” why were you making this web of lies even bigger? You have no self-control, do you?

“What was Cornwallis doing here?”

You but your tongue, having to come up with a lie or tell the truth as to why he had visited yesterday. Either way, both options turned out with horrible results.

“He asked for my hand.” The truth it was, then.

His brows seemed to disappear into his hairline as his jaw slacked, mouth wide open. Damn your mind, you should have just lied.

Lily was wrong in one thing, perhaps. You have gotten a few marriage offers in the last three years, but by all men who were older than your grandfather. You hadn’t even told Lily about them and now you were telling her brother.

“I…” Satoru couldn’t even find the right words to say. You wanted to bury yourself in a hole.

“…Cornwallis? Isn’t he-”

“Pushing ninety-nine? Yes.” Nobody was sure of his age, and ninety-nine was perhaps even being too generous. Everybody knew that Cornwallis was simply ancient.

“Did I save you from the conversation at least? I must say, if there was any man I would wish ill upon, it’s certainly him. He’s a lying old cheat.” He tried to joke again but you swallowed thickly. Perhaps if he came at the same time yesterday he might have. But he didn’t and you had to sit through an hour of him pleading with your mother as the two of you just stared in abject horror and surprise.

“Yes well, thank you…for doing that.” You lied, cleaning your teeth together as you tried to smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings as you came up closer to him, desperately hoping to change the topic of the conversation.

“Is everything alright with Lily?” You asked his eyes that were focused on the floor jumping to yours as your lips parted, worry still clear on your face.

“Yes, of course, I just wanted to ask a favor of you. But, judging from your encounter with men today I would understand if this is pushing it,” he cut right to the crux of the matter. He seemed nervous, which was an odd emotion to see on a man otherwise very confident and sure in himself. It unsettled you.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to find his words and continue. You could make out the slight blush on his face, the pink hue that spread across his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. He was, by all means, the cutest person you’ve ever seen.

“My mother's holding another ball, two weeks from now, you see,” his lip caught between his teeth, “And she’s been bugging me about having a date for the night. She wants to appease the rest of the gentry, I suppose. Would you, by any chance, like to be that?”

You stopped computing his words.

“...It’s honestly just to get her off my back. And you wouldn’t have to stay with me the entire evening, you could do whatever you’d like after we get some of the necessities over with. Lily was the first who suggested the idea, she said you wouldn’t be doing much other than gossip with her. Of course, if you don’t want to I certainly won’t force the idea, but it’s merely a suggestion.” His blue eyes, ever so convincing and round and caring bore into yours, and despite your better judgment you find yourself nodding.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you say a bit breathlessly, completely forgetting about Cornwallis and the way you were debating it and the fact that this means nothing at all, and would most likely cause you more harm than good.

His nervousness washed away into a big smile, and you cursed yourself at the little flicker of hope you felt deep in your soul as he scrambled to find the right words to say to thank you. The flood of gratitude and appreciation stabbed deeply into your heart as he kept repeating friend, but you were too hopeful for love.

Your mother always said that loving would always be your greatest weakness.

---

You should have said no.

The amount of eyes that were focused on you was enough to make you nauseous, and you couldn’t get sick for you hadn’t had anything to eat today with how hurried everything was.

Your arm was draped around Satoru’s, and he held tightly onto your hand. He was the image of luxury and charisma right now, and if you were in the crowd looking as he made his way through the crowd you almost would have wanted to bow.

Time came by a lot faster when you were totally freaking out over it, and before you knew it, you were put in a dress you hadn’t even picked and corseted to the heavens. Your hair was done with extra detail, and they even went as far as putting some Swarovski’s into it so that when the candlelight hit it, you’d sparkle twice as much.

Satoru, ever the gentleman, had picked you up from your estate as he walked you to their home amidst all the chaos of getting ready for another ball. In all honesty, you have no idea how their mother manages to keep her sanity through all of this.

You were still a bit giddy from your earlier interaction with Satoru, although it didn’t do much to calm your nerves now.

“I’m sorry for taking so long!” You had said as you rushed down your stairs, careful not to trip over your train as you put your earrings in. Ella said that he was waiting for you downstairs, you just underestimated how early he’d be.

“Don’t apologize…” He had turned around from admiring a painting, his eyes widening a bit when he saw you. He quickly shut his mouth, but you had already gauged his reaction. You tried not to let it get the best of you, but you could have sworn he blushed more often than usual when you interlinked your arm with his.

“You’re cutting off my blood circulation.” He whispers in your ear as you try to smile, your eyes nervous as they dart around the room. How could it be even bigger than that last ball? Did they suddenly meet thirty new people?

“Maybe you could cut mine off.” You snap back through your teeth, your hand gripping his wrist as tightly as you could.

“How are we supposed to dance if one of us is dead?” He grumbles back, putting on a little grin as he makes eye contact with his mother, and then goes back to whispering, “It’s just one song and you’re done. You’ve done this before.”

You wanted to shove him to the ground.

“No, I haven’t!” You say loud enough that he hears but try to mask it so that nobody else does, “I told you yesterday this is my first time dancing with somebody!” As embarrassing as it was to admit, right now you couldn’t be bothered to care as he led you to the middle of the room, standing in first position as you two waited for the orchestra to begin.

“Are you saying I’m your first?” He teased, his tongue poking out from between his lips as he watched you grow mortified, rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting way as his means to apologize.

You wanted to go ahead and argue but the cello and violins started and you were whisked away by his calculated movements, and the only thing you could do was follow in his lead.

The two of you practiced a bit in the days leading up to this, but it was a lot different when your only crowd was Lily and her constant whining about how boring it was.

Now, with everybody staring at you and him, it was far more daunting.

“Don’t look at the ground, look at me,” he whispered in your ear, smiling when your eyes traveled to him. He tried not to crack when he saw the pure loathing and hatred in them, but at least you were looking up and not at his shoes.

“‘Toru I’m never doing a favor for you again, you owe me.” You groan, letting him twirl you around in a circle as some of the ladies give a polite clap.

“Name your price.” He egged you on, bringing you back flush against his chest as his hand found purchase on your waist.

“Not money,” you grumble, eyes twitching as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, you’ve always wanted to dance with him, sure, but not under these circumstances.

“Books?” You consider it but shake your head. You deserve something bigger for what you’re putting yourself through. Shocking enough, after being a wallflower for so many years, you weren’t handling being in the spotlight too well.

“I’ll think about it. But it has to be big.” You warn and he lifts up his pinky on your waist to show you his unbridled loyalty to keeping true to your words.

“Where are you going after this is done?” He spins the two of you around, and you watch as more couples rush around the two of you. It’s less stressful when others are dancing, but you still feel tense.

“I’m probably going to stay with Lily outside.” He seems to deflate a little, though he still stands tall, his suit never crinkling through his movements.

“No more dancing?” He teased but you vehemently disagree with the idea.

“Never again.” It’s not as though you hate it, in fact, a younger you would have been jumping with glee to be able to dance with Satoru. But after years of growing accustomed to watching rather than participating, you can’t grow out of that habit.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see the Princess herself as she looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Would you mind if…?” She motioned to Satoru and then to you. You barely noticed the number coming to an end, and the rupture of applause was the last thing you heard before you scrambled away from him.

You didn’t even notice how he had held onto your hand tighter, not wanting to let you go.

“O-of course, your majesty.” You winced at your select choice of words and how you said her title almost as if you questioned it.

“Thank you.” She mumbled and for somebody of such high regard, you wouldn’t think of her to need to plead with somebody, especially you, to be able to have a dance with Satoru.

Your job for the night was done, successfully might be too loose of a term, but finished nonetheless. You chose not to look back at Satoru, knowing that the wide grin he’d save for the girls he was interested in would only twist that knife deeper into your heart.

You were a sadist in the most pathetic way possible.

You waved goodbye to Satoru as another number started again, and tried your best to get away from all the twirling bodies as you headed out to find Lily.

It didn’t take long until you found her trying to weasel out some information from her brother, tapping him repeatedly on the shoulder as he tried to fight her off.

“…what did you hear, what do you know?” She pressed as he groaned, obviously trying to have a private conversation with the lady next to him.

“Nothing Lily!” He locked eyes with you as he almost begged silently for you to take her.

“Lily, I’m here. We can go now.” You looped elbows with her as you dragged her away, giving her brother a quick smile that said you accepted his gratefulness.

As you walked through the stone path in the garden, she muttered dejectedly about how she was just about to get some good information out of him.

“How was dancing with Satoru?” She finally asked after a while. The two of you weren’t alone, but far less crowded than it would if you had been inside.

“Stressful, but the song was short so I wasn’t needed for too long.” You tell her honestly. If there’s one thing you can’t do with Lily it’s lie, for she’ll sniff out of you the moment you come up with it.

“You look flustered.” She noted, looking over your face and the sweat that dotted over your cheekbones.

“You dance in a sweltering room like that with the entire ton looking at you and try not to get flustered.” You reasoned and she seemed to buy it. It wasn’t a total lie, but a stretch of the truth.

“You know,” Lily had terrible balance and often collided with you as she walked, “I was talking to my mother and despite her insistent warnings, I think we should make it official.”

“Make what official?” The lights from the candles above you illuminated her face and she had that look of mischief that either excited or frightened you.

“That we plan to be unwed.” She grinned cheek to cheek and all you could feel was that same wave of nausea that had been prickling at you since the start of the night. This was the last thing you needed to hear about right now.

“They’re going to think we’re either lunatics or lovers.” You say with a sullen and heavy sigh, looking up at the sky in some sort of desperate manner as you wait for some sort of angel to save you from this conversation.

“And what’s the issue with that? Let them think. You have always said you’ve wanted this, so let’s let the world know.”

Something you wish Lily was was to be more aware. As loving, thoughtful and caring as she was, she never seemed to pick up on the little things. For one, you doubted she noticed just how quiet you got whenever she brought up this conversation. You’d give her the benefit of the doubt and say that you rarely talked much when it came to marriage, but that was just so that you could save yourself from the ongoing embarrassment of never having experienced love or some sort of feeling that somebody would feel towards you to genuinely want to be your husband.

Not only that, but far from Lily's point of help, is the fact that ever since Satoru has been back, your childish feelings have come flooding right in with him. No matter how many tea sessions you have with Lily and have him sitting in the background, either reading the morning's paper or jotting things down in his journal, it always spins to him sitting right beside you as you talk about anything under the sun.

And while you know your hopes of marrying him are just too far-fetched, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Something Lily just hasn’t ever been able to pick up on when around you. Which is shocking, seeing how the only novels you’ve read for the majority of your life was centered around such a topic.

“Listen, Lily, I’ve been thinking,” you pause for a second in your place, staring at the pebbles arranged in the formation of a star as you swallow your bile, “That maybe…”

You were nervously wringing your hands together, a sign that Lily knew all too well. She could read you like any of her books, and she let out a gasp, covering her mouth with a shaky hand as she pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“No,” she dug the finger into your chest, “You’re thinking of breaking up the pact?” It comes out breathless. Her soft curls of white that had been done up beautifully were slowly falling down as she shook her head in pure shock, not giving you a chance to talk.

“I mean this is just brilliant. Brilliant! What am I supposed to do now, go out into the world alone as a spinster?”

You stuttered, your fingers interlaced with one another as you tried to calm her down from causing a scene. Trying to shush her came to no avail as you wring your hands away from her, acting as if your touch was burning.

If the Gojo’s were anything, it’s overly dramatic in places where dramatics were certainly not needed.

“Please be rational,” she urged you as she clutched onto your wrists, suddenly pleading to you with her wide eyes, “The season is almost over and you haven’t had any offers. Sooner than later we’re going to be thirty, then forty, then fifty, and husbandless. We should say it now so that it doesn’t come off as a pathetic cry to hold onto what little decency we have in the future!”

Christ, you hated that she was being somewhat logical. But her rationality stung, the way melted wax does when it burns the skin. She didn’t know just how much she was hurting you, and you doubted she ever would.

“Look, I know I’m probably not going to be offered a chance at marriage, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least try.” You try to reason with her as she sniffs, her eyes squinted as she looks at you in anger.

“This was our pact and you’re going against it! What’s next?”

You were going to argue that this pact was only made on the basis of her having too much champagne to drink and you being sullen over her brother, but you were cut off from getting the chance to do so.

“What’s your issue?”

You turned around at the familiar voice as you saw Satoru nearing you, Lily continuing her rant as she seemed to completely miss that her brother was coming towards the two of you.

“What?” You felt overwhelmed with having two Gojo’s corner you, both rather angry from the looks of it.

“I know that this isn’t your scene but you said you’d be my date. You don’t have to dance with me, but at least be there.” He looks like he’s seething, and you’ve never seen this look on him before. It’s jarring, to say the least.

You feel like your head is about to explode.

“I just-”

“....and my mother was only more confident in the idea if you were doing it!” Lily exclaimed, causing you to look back at her as she urged you to think about it.

“...my mother has given me at least twenty women to mull over in the last twenty minutes. It would have been none if you just acted as my date for the night!” Satoru’s voice rose, and you felt like your heart was going to actually stop. Your head was spinning, your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hear anything besides a loud ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry but-” The two of them talked over you, so stuck in their own worlds that they didn’t notice the tears pricking at your eyes or the way you seemed to be short of breath. It would probably be one of their greatest flaws, never noticing something until it was far too late.

“Stop!” You cried out, earning some looks from the people around you as you rubbed at your forehead, already feeling it ache under your touch, “Please! Listen, just for a bloody second!”

You took a deep breath and began.

“I’m a fucking romantic Lily, and nothing’s ever going to change that! I always have been! And I want to get married, I just agreed to your pact because I know I’m probably never going to get that chance! And god, how can your only takeaway from reading Persuasion be to abstain from marriage?” Your nose crinkles in anger as you turn around to point your finger at her brother's chest, watching as he takes your reaction in obvious surprise.

“You!” You cry out and he almost backs away, “I was trying to give you some courtesy by leaving! God forbid you gave anybody the idea that you were courting me!” You quickly wipe at your eyes but it does fuck all of hiding how you truly felt as your lips wobbled.

“Why would…?” He's breathless, no longer angry, just utterly confused and a wee bit frightened.

“We both know you’re too good for that. How’d you phrase it, you’d be out of your mind if you did such a thing?” You throw his own words back at him, and you watch in some sort of mixture of triumph and heartbreak as realization washes over his features.

He finally remembers.

“I…” he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his hair as it fell out of his face, rubbing at his jaw as you looked at you from beneath his lashes, “I didn’t…” but he can’t finish his sentences and instead stops, sharing an unreadable look with his sister as they then look at you.

“I’m going home.” You say after a beat of silence, breathing deeply through your nose as you look away from the two of them.

“Let me-” Satoru started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I think I’d be better off alone.” You snap, nostrils flaring as you shake your head, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to stop the already impending migraine that is about to come.

For once in your life, you didn’t care about the eyes boring into your back or the way that whispers flew around you and twisted around your throat like a vine. You were glad that nobody else other than the servants was home as you ran up into your room, locking everybody else out as you sobbed into your pillows.

---

The days following your (well-deserved) outburst were more than rough.

To your knowledge, Lily has visited a total of ten times in the past five days, sometimes twice in the same one, while her brother has visited a grand total of zero. You didn’t expect much from him, but this really cemented your quickly growing disdain.

Your mother informed you constantly that she was trying to put out the fires from that night but you couldn’t bring it to feel too bad, after all, you were glad that you didn’t say anything more drastic.

“This is just so unlike you!” She cried, shaking in disappointment as you munched on some sweets you nicked from the kitchen.

“I know,” you chuckled, “I’m so proud of myself.”

She just throws her hands in the air as a sign of utterly giving up and storms out of the room, most likely to meet with somebody else to “clean up the mess.”

She was right for some part, you can’t remember the last time you actually told somebody how you were feeling. It’s not healthy on your end, but growing up with three older sisters who always got it their way meant that you had some lack of backbone.

Lily and Satoru, as much as you cared about them, didn’t live like that. Their mother loved them all equally and she made sure that all of their voices were heard. She was always making sure that their priorities were met and she never made them feel inferior.

Which somehow, didn’t pass on to you.

Loving the way you do got tiring when you got nothing back, and giving everybody your all when nobody seemed to notice it felt as though you were alone in a world full of people who cared for each other. You’ve read the books and heard the stories, but you eventually realized that it simply just wasn’t in your cards to be dealt the same thing.

They cared, you know they did. But sometimes, it felt like they expected your care in order for them to show it to you.

“Miss?” you heard a faint voice and a knock at your door. You sat up from your slump as Ella slowly came inside, shutting the door soundly behind her.

“Did my mother ask you to make sure I haven’t flung myself off the balcony?” You dust away any crumbs from your pull over as you stare out the window.

“I’m making sure you didn’t.”

Your head snapped over at the familiar voice only to see Lily standing at the foot of your bed, looking out of place with her bright purple dress. She looked like she was teetering back and forth between staying out and sprinting away, and you admired her courage after how many times you’ve turned down her offer.

You glared at Ella but she was no longer there, leaving you and Lily alone.

“You’re just in time then.” You say blandly, standing up from your bed as you make the covers and are careful not to come too close to her. She seemed to notice.

“We can’t go about this forever,” she stated, rounding the corner of your bed as she took three steps forward while you took one back, not wanting to be cornered again the way you were that night, “This silent treatment is killing me.”

“Then die,” you don’t mean it and she knows it, but her face wobbles for a second and you watch in horror as tears spring to Lily's eyes.

The last time Lily cried the two of you were fifteen and her brothers had effectively ruined the singular dress she had actually been looking forward to wearing by staining it with ink. You spent at least an hour calling her down and trying to rationalize with her until you finally gave up and offered to cut holes in all of their suits.

You’re not sure you could do that now.

“I’m sorry!” She sprung herself forward at you with full throttle as she hugged you tightly, “You’re right! There’s nothing wrong with being a romantic!” You don’t know what to do as you stand there in shock so you awkwardly pat her back, her long white hair never loose so you’ve never really seen it to its full extent.

“My brother and I have been at war with each other trying to put the blame on somebody else but I’m sorry! You of all people deserve to find love,” she looks up and her eyes just look like oceans and it’s unfair how pretty she looks when she cries because you just look like a mess, “Please, please forgive me.”

You look as she refuses to pull away from you, clutching desperately onto the thin fabric of your nightgown that your mother reprimanded you for not getting out of, and slowly feel your hands circle around her back as you pull her into a hug.

“Honestly,” you shake your head as she looks up at you, cheeks rosy with streaks of tears and her lip wobbles violently, “I’m probably going to be on that pact ten years from now. But I just-”

“Want to try!” She finished your sentence for you, something the two of you always prided in being able to do, “and that’s respectable too!”

You try not to smile but the corners of your lips tug upwards as you nod, Lily waiting with bated breath as she scanned your reaction.

“Don’t ever treat me like that again, you hear me?”

She vehemently nods, pulling away as she wipes at her eyes, holding out her oinks finger as she waits for you to latch on. Sure, it was a childish way of making a promise, but Lily was never the serious sort of person. If anything, this is the most you’ve ever seen her apologize about something.

“I promise with the depths of my soul. If I do, brand me with an iron.” Your eyes widen as you go to disagree but she won’t take it.

“I swear.” She repeats gravely.

You look at her pinky for another second before you bring yours up, not believing that this is still how the two of you go about making amends.

“Alright then,” you heave a sigh, “I forgive you.”

Her face breaks into a wide and toothy smile as she pulls you in for a tighter hug, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs as she pulls back away.

“You’ll never regret this, I swear,” she looked radiant, but quickly stopped as she looked down at the ground, trying to gather her thoughts on how to break the news to you, “Now, be prepared for another one.”

You blink slowly, brows furrowed in confusion as you lean on your bedpost, arms crossing as your lips purse.

“What?”

She almost looks ashamed again, looking at the clock on your wall.

“My mother’s invited you over for dinner. Get ready to see the other Gojo.”

---

Your mother, as difficult as she was to deal with at most times, somehow understood the concept of showing off through a good wardrobe.

You wouldn’t put any bets on the fact that if your outfits were significantly better you might have had at least one man approach you in all these years, but it certainly could have been a possibility.

The cut was lower than all your normal dress, and with the help of your corset, pushed the sisters up a considerable amount.

The color was the most flattering you’ve ever seen, and through the utilization of crystals and diamonds encrusted in the fabric itself, it shined perfectly when the light hit it.

For the first time, you were glad your mother picked out your outfit.

Unfortunately, the outfit gave you only so much confidence. When you walked into the Gojo estate, thankfully with Lily on your side, all the memories from that night came flooding back and your stomach flipped upside down.

You were glad that Lily was seated next to you at the dinner table as well, but it didn’t help that Satoru was seated in front of you, glaring daggers into your face as you tried to avoid looking at him.

“Now, you didn’t tell me about your plans for the next year, with the season already coming to an end.” Their mother, bless her heart, asked as she loaded some peas into her fork, looking at you with her kind eyes as you struggled to think of a good enough answer.

“I’m planning on taking a marriage offer up, actually,” you say, trying not to look at Lily for you knew she was already giggling.

In the past five hours, you filled her in on everything, and she decided the best way to get Satoru to say something was if you went with the idea.

“Oh?” You watched as she perked up in interest, as did the rest of the Gojo family. An offer?

“Yes,” you nodded, “Lord Cornwallis, actually, if you’ve heard of him?”

Lily was gleaming as she saw her brother clench his jaw as he stared at the side of your face that was still looking at their mother.

“L-lord Cornwallis?” You felt bad for lying to her, but you could just come back later and say you’ve changed your mind, “He must be at least-”

“Ninety-nine?” You answered for her as her cheek warmed, “Some say he’s just in his prime, yes.”

She drank some of her wine.

“Isn’t that desperate?” Satoru finally said and you heard a loud clatter from the end of the table as their mother angrily sat her cup down, glaring at her son.

“Satoru!” She exclaimed, the rest of the girls and boys watching in tense silence as they waited for your reply.

“It’s alright,” you shrugged, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, “And yes, it could come off as desperate. However, I would rather go to a man who finds no problem in courting me rather than somebody who’d tell the whole world just how much it would disgust him to be seen with me.”

You could swear you heard a tooth crack.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something-” One of the brothers piped up but Satoru acted as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Well if that man were drunk out of his wits-”

“Then he let his sober thoughts reign free.” You finish for him, nostrils flaring as Satoru twisted the ring on his forefinger back and forth.

“Again, Miss Gojo, I’m simply thinking over his offer.” You finish, seeing how she could barely take her eyes off of her son as she blinked towards you, giving a shaky smile as she nodded.

“Of course, there’s no…no problem in that.” She swallowed uncomfortably, as did everybody else. You peeked over at Lily to find her just as you suspected, beaming with silent joy.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I think my dress has come a bit undone. I’m going to call for somebody to fix it.” You say, excusing yourself as you try to go ahead with the plan you had set in the first place.

“Make him mad, really mad. Say something about Cornwallis, he despises him,” Lily muttered, sitting cross-legged on your bed as she urged you to listen to her directions, “Then excuse yourself. Say you’ve got to use the privy or something, doesn’t matter.”

You nodded, listening intently as she laid it on thick for what she had been picking up on for the past couple of days.

“Go upstairs and find his room, you know where it is. Be quick with it too, but there’s this box on his desk that’s full of letters. I swear on my Austen collection that there is a letter with your name on it.”

You felt your heart tumble.

“Are you sure?” You asked, glancing at the clock to make sure you wouldn’t be late to dinner.

“Positive. And I’d get it if I could, but he’s so secretive with his room that this is probably the one time it’s going to be unlocked. He’d never suspect anybody going snooping at this hour.”

You grinned, knowing that if you finally got that little something to use against him, he’d have no choice but to grovel at your feet for the rest of his life.

You quickly scampered up the stairs, telling one of their mates that you’d be able to fix your dress on your own and that you’d be stashed away in Lily's room for the time being, and mentally times yourself as you quickly paced through the halls, looking for the familiar dark oak that would be Satoru’s room.

Just when you were about to get lost in their maze of a house, you stopped triumphantly behind the last door at the end of the hall, staring deeply at it as you weighed your options.

You quickly caved, slowly reaching out to the doorknob to see if it was locked.

It swung open, and you let out a sigh of relief and looked around a final time to make sure that nobody had followed you before you fully let yourself inside.

It was dark, and you left the door slightly open so that the light from the halls could sleep in a bit, and you went to work on locating the box on his desk that Lily had described to you.

You squint your eyes, wincing as you bumped into furniture as you made your way to the corner of the large room, blindly reaching and grabbing for anything on the mahogany desk that would resemble a box.

You let out a sound of triumph as you found a square-shaped glass-feeling thing filled to the brim with papers, holding it upwards to the sliver of light as you quickly ran through the letters with your fingers and you tried to find one with your name on it.

They seemed like they were all unsent, with many of them labeled to his mother or siblings, and a few to his friends, but you didn’t find any of them labeled to you, and you quickly felt your heart and hopes sink. This was taking far too long.

Just as you were about to give up, you passed a smaller shaped letter with cursive that looked familiar, in the sense that you had seen it addressed before, and pulled it out only to see your name staring back at you.

A part of you almost wanted to sink into the chair behind the desk, your heart beating rapidly in the small vastness of your ribcage as you held it back up to the light, seeing a note tucked neatly away through the transparency of the envelope.

Your nimble fingers went to rip the seal of wax off, but stopped as the door swung open.

“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru stood at the doorway, blocking the rest of the light as his shadow cast over you.

You dropped the letter, quickly hiding it behind your back as he stepped in, getting closer to you as you abruptly stood up, trying to come up with a feasible lie as you rounded away from his desk, trying to get away from him and his massive build.

“Oh?” You looked around as if suddenly realizing this wasn’t the place you were supposed to be, “Is this not Lily’s room? Silly me, I couldn’t make it out in the dark. I’ll be leaving now if you’ll excuse me…” You turned around, brushing past him but stopping when you felt his long fingers circle your wrist, turning you around as his eyes squinted.

“Bullshit,” you flinched, never having heard him curse before as his hands felt around yours, finding the letter you were doing a terrible job of hiding, “You know this house better than your own. Why the hell are you in my room?”

You didn’t say anything as he brought your hand out from behind your back, opening up your closed fist with much ease to reveal the crumpled-up envelope. Your chest heaved up and down, waiting with bated breath as he stared silently at the letter. You balled your fists back up again, stepping away from him as he followed you quickly in your footsteps.

“Give that to me y/n,” his voice was low and commanding, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before, and if you weren't in your rebellious mood (and somewhat in your independent, not totally in-love-with-him mood) you would have caved, but you shook your head, looking behind you as to make sure you didn’t back into his bed frame.

“It’s got my name on it.” You argued, knowing it was a terrible excuse, and you watched him chuckle darkly, knowing that you had no good reason for being in his room and sifting through his letters.

“And yet it was in my room, in my letterbox, on my desk.” He snapped, eyes a deep blue and different from the usual lightness they carried. He wasn’t joking and he wasn’t lying, he needed that letter back.

Which just made you want it even more.

You didn’t know what to do, so the only logical thing in your sporadic mind was to shove it down your dress, hiding it in your chest as Satoru watched your movements like a hawk, not saying anything as you defiantly showed him your now empty hands.

“Get it now Satoru,” you challenged him, not realizing you had backed up into the wall until your head lightly bounced off from it, wincing at the sting as you looked back behind you.

He didn’t say anything, and it seemed like his mind was running as quickly as it could as he tried to deal with whatever it was you were doing. Instead, he just three more languid steps forward, nearly face to face with you as he stared down at you, eyes darting from yours to your lips and chest.

Under any other circumstances, you would have felt like shedding your clothes off from how heated you felt under his gaze. Here, your only resort was to keep them on, to see what was so important about that letter.

“I came to find you to apologize,” his voice is low and calm, his cool breath hitting your cheek as you struggle to keep your composure, “To be civil. To tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said that night.”

Despite your mixed emotions, you felt your brows furrow at his select choice of words.

“Are you here to tell me now that you actually meant every word?” You couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth, knowing that the answer would probably send you into a state you could never get out of as the person you’ve loved for the majority of your life confirms your biggest fears.

But shockingly, he just shakes his head, his lips pink and plush and you’ve never found yourself focusing on them more than you are now.

If only you knew that he felt the same as he looked at you.

“No,” he stepped closer, if possible, but still had room to shove him away. But you didn’t, not now, you couldn’t, didn’t want to as his nose nudged yours a bit, your lashes fluttering against your cheek as your lips parted, waiting for him to do something,

“I’ll show you that I didn’t mean them.”

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs contracting as his face fell towards yours, your lips meeting ever so slowly as they finally landed on yours, soft and somehow delicate as they pushed against yours, finalizing the kiss as he began to move them.

You’ve never kissed anybody before, often dreaming about it as you lay in bed hopelessly in love, but never thought you’d be here from the man you’ve imagined on the other side doing it with him.

He moved slowly as if he knew that this was your first time, and you didn’t know how to handle your emotions as he angled his chin to get closer to you, his lips capturing you in such a heated and feverish pace that you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight as you thought back on it.

His hands slowly came up to your waist, tugging you flush against his body as your hands somehow found their way behind his neck, finger curling into his long strands of arctic white as he groaned against you when you tugged a bit, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

You were impatient, always have been, and it probably took him a little bit by surprise as you quickened the pace, hungry after so many years of starving for this as you pushed against him for more fervor, feeling him smile slightly against your lips as he met you in the middle, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as you whined slightly as the feeling.

He nipped at your lips, his tongue poking out from in between yours, and you absentmindedly opened your mouth a little bit to make room for him, heart and mind working in tandem as he brought up a hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t hit the wall as he pushed against you.

It was messy and hurried, and for once, it felt as if he felt the same you were feeling. As if he too wanted this, needed this more than air itself, and that thought alone made your mind stop functioning.

Your hands moved from his neck to his chest, fingers clutching onto the satin fabric of his suit, wrinkling the fabric as your noses bumped against each other, sheer desperation showing from the two of you.

“Viscount Gojo?”

The two of you almost jumped at the knock that sounded from the door.

“Your mother is asking where you are. She’s worried about the lady as well,” Fred didn’t peek his head in, and for that you were grateful. You were sure you looked like a total mess at the moment, but Satoru spoke, glancing at the door as he took a deep breath, almost as if it was his first time breathing in a couple of minutes.

“Tell her that we’re working things out. It’ll take a bit more time.” His voice sounded steady enough, but from where you were standing you could see how swollen his lips were, the fact that they were red and glistening with sweat. His hand on your waist tightened as if he didn’t want to let you go, and your hand lay flat against his chest.

“Of course,” Fred answered, “Take your time.” He shut the door completely, and the two of you waited until you heard his footsteps becoming softer and softer until you could no longer hear them.

You waited, looking in the direction for another second before you looked up at him only to see his eyes gauging yours for a reaction, somehow a storm going on behind them as he battled twenty different emotions.

“I’m still hurt Satoru,” you whisper, his eyes never changing but his shoulders tense a bit as you drop your hands away from him, as if you were suddenly coming to your senses and realizing what you had just done, “I can't forgive you this easily.”

You don’t know how to handle your feelings sometimes, and sometimes they catch up to you later than they should. You could still hear his words from that night ringing around your mind and nothing was stopping it no matter how hard you tried.

“Come get the letter when you’re ready to apologize with more than just your lips.”

You look back up at him one more time before you push away, feeling him lightly move away from you to give you space as you smooth out the front of your dress, touching your face to make sure that none of the makeup and powder that was swiped against your face wasn’t wrecked as you left.

You don’t look back as you left him silently in his room, shutting the door behind you as you stopped, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you went back down to dinner.

---

A week passed since your night with Satoru, and you’ve come to terms with the fact that he regrets it.

It hurts, it hurts even more when you convince yourself that he probably was trying to take pity on you and test how true his old words were, but you couldn’t spiral, knowing that it would cause even more turmoil.

Lily came by regardless, under the impression that you and her brother made up and are on better terms, and you're in no rush to tell her the truth of what happened.

She asked about the note, but you insisted that you couldn’t find it. She grumbled that he probably threw it away after she pestered him constantly about it.

“What about Lord Balfour?” She was sprawled out on your bed, her legs crossed resting it up against the wall with her head at the opposite end, looking on a piece of parchment in which she had gone around asking for men looking for marriage (and a true romantic connection, she stressed).

“Hm, too bald,” you said, sitting in your vanity, washing off the rest of the powder on your face as you dipped the soft cotton cloth back into the pitcher of water as you looked at her through the mirror, “Isn’t he a year younger than us?”

She pouted as she thought, looking back to her list as she crossed off that name.

“Count Alexei?” She seemed to like this one and you set your towel down, trying to place a face to the name.

“Isn’t he from Russia? Wouldn’t it be difficult for him to come back and forth?” You asked and she nodded, although she seemed more sad that you didn’t want him.

“Have you just gone around the ton asking if anybody’s looking for marriage?” You teased and she turned around, sitting up as she wiped the hair out of her face.

“I take your journey to find true love very serious,” she argued and you snorted, knowing that it was a kid if that and the fact that she liked judging the men of the higher class, “Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not.” You turn around from your chair as you face her, urging her to continue.

“Duke Cambell?” She looked up from the list with a raised brow, only to find you looking the same, taking more time to consider the name.

“He explicitly stated he’d consider marriage? With me?” You tilt your head to the side. Surely it would be too good to be true. He wasn’t too pretty, nobody was like Satoru, but he wasn’t that bad to look at either.

“He seemed quite eager about it, actually.” She said, and you smiled a bit, feeling like a silly schoolgirl with the way you ducked your head.

“He’s a bit shy, isn’t he?” You said with a little giggle and she snorted, nodding as she circled his name and put a question mark next to it.

“Just means he’s more apt to moan louder,” she said blandly and your mouth dropped, burrowing your face in your hands at her very open nature. Even after ten years it sometimes caught you off guard.

“Lily!” You shouted, trying to hold in your laugh, and she just looked at you as if you should have expected this as she rose from your bed, stretching her arms above her head as she let out a frantic yawn.

The sun had already set and she knew her mother would be expecting her to arrive soon, and you went to stand but stopped you.

“No need to stand, I’ll bid farewell from here.”

You rolled your eyes at her dramatics, picking up the cloth again as you dabbed at your cheeks.

“I assume you’ll be here tomorrow?” Crossing your legs as she shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Yes. In fact, I’ll leave this prized list with you so that you can mull it over,” she walked over a bit and set it down on the top of your vanity, looking at you as she put a solemn hand on your shoulder, “Do think over Count Alexis. He is rather dreamy.”

You chuckled, waving goodbye to her as she left the door with a litter thud, blowing kisses as you snorted at her exaggerated act, turning back around to your mirror as you wiped away the remaining bits of your makeup.

You were already in your dressing gown, the material soft and light on your skin as you set the cloth back down, drying your face off with another one as you got ready to sleep.

With meticulous care you took your earrings off and began to work on your necklace but struggled with the finicky clasp, your thumb slipping just as you were about to get it. You let out a quick groan of frustration, shutting your eyes as you tried not to lose your temper over a necklace.

“Do you need help with that?”

You were getting better at controlling your reactions, but your eyes snapped over to the top of your mirror as he stood there, shutting the door behind him. Your hands fell to your lap as you silently seethed.

Ella was never going to hear the end of it.

You said nothing and he quietly walked over to where you sat with your back to him, opting to look at him through your mirror as his slender fingers slowly came up to your neck.

“I’m getting rid of my maid.” You mutter eyes dropped to your lap as you try to control your breath as his fingertips touch your delicate skin, gingerly getting to work of undoing the clasp. He didn’t say anything and the only sound that filled the room was your slow little puffs of air, trying to get your pulse to stop from doing the strange rhythmic beating it always did when you were around him, as if he somehow became the conductor of your heart.

You heard a small click and the necklace became undone, and he gathered it in his palm as he set it down next to your little trinkets, dropping his hands from your shoulder as his cerulean eyes found yours once again, and you looked away, his deep stare burning through yours.

“Don’t,” his voice came out rough as if he hadn’t made much use of it for a while, “She’s always turned me away when I came asking for you. I weasled my way through her right now, almost blew my cover when Lily was leaving.”

Oh.

“I’m over it.” No, you weren’t, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

You opened up the drawer to the left of you, moving some little cases of jewelry around as you found the letter you had hidden away as you brought it out, setting it on the desk as you stood from your chair, pushing it back in as you faced him, “Take it. I didn’t read it.” Despite how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to stoop that low and read through something he didn’t want you to see.

He glanced over at the letter and then at you, taking the letter with careful movements as he found the letter opener scattered on your desk, ripping through the wax as he opened it up, passing the envelope back to you.

“Read it.”

You certainly weren’t expecting that.

“What?” You couldn’t blink, looking at his outstretched hand that held the very thing that had been bothering you as if it was nothing, “I don’t-”

“Go on,” he urged quietly, his voice caught in the back of his throat, “Read it out loud. Please.”

You looked at him once more to make sure he wasn’t going crazy before you gently took it from his hands, your fingers brushing past each other as you opened it up, taking out the letter as you unfolded it, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the worst.

“I’m terrible at writing letters, you should know,” you start, squinting as you move closer to your candle so that you can read it better, “And you should know that I’ve written this twenty other times. I have-

“Twenty balled-up pieces of paper next to me,” Satoru finished the sentence, not looking at the letter once as he read it from memory, “If only you could see the mess,” he paused, his hands shaking a bit as he continued, “I apologize for not sending as many letters to you as I should, but aside from my travels which have proven to do nothing other than make me regret leaving, I only have one other thing left to tell you.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I thought that it would do me some good to leave and get some time to think about how bad it would be if I said out loud that I was in love with the girl who’s my sister's best friend, but I’ve simply gone mad over needing to see you again. I’m in Paris, which is coincidentally the city of love but I’ve grown bitter and resentful over the fact that the woman I love is an ocean away from me. I can’t do it anymore. No, scratch that, no, I can’t do this other letter…”

“...It’s too pathetic. You’re worth more than this.” You concluded, reading along because you couldn’t be yourself to look up at him, knowing that you simply would break apart and couldn’t take it as you heard the three words you’ve wanted to hear from the man that you never thought would say them.

You looked at the paper, eyes scanning each word again as you let out a heavy sigh, feeling like you were living in a dream that was wrapping its arms slowly around you and whisking you away.

“That night, I projected. I don’t know why I said what I said, I just know that thinking it over told me everything I needed to know and I acted like a coward and a fool and I hurt you when really, I love you. I love you, I’ve never stopped. I burn for you, and I always will.” He whispered, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he cleared his throat, wiping at his nose as he sniffled.

You’ve never seen him like this, exposed and raw. But you knew that you mirrored his emotions, knew that you were in the same state that he was for he carefully brought his hand up to your cheek, wiping a tear away as he cupped your face in his hands.

“I know that it would be too much to ask for your forgiveness, but please, I don’t know how much longer I can go without at least seeing your face, hearing your voice, your laugh, you’re kind, kind heart.” His hands trailed down your face, down your arms, and your waist, settling on your hips as he ducked his head downward, tears sliding down the curve of his nose as he did something unexpected.

The Viscount Gojo Satoru began to kneel.

You froze, looking down in shock as he bowed his head in shame and apology.

“‘Toru, please, I,” your voice broke and you quickly wiped your tears away, taking his hands that were sprawled out across your waist as you held them, not knowing how to handle this display of vulnerability as you gently made him look up at you, “Just tell me one thing.”

His thumb caressed the back of your hand, giving a soft nod as he whispered; “anything,” and his hand moved up your waist, holding your back as your hands unknowingly went to his hair, moving it away from his face as your fingers twirled and played with his white strands, basking in the sense of having him at his knees for you.

“Why did you wait so long to come back?” Your voice is barely audible as it cracks, a year of missing him and ten years of longing for him coming out as he shakes his head, almost as if he was more remorseful about it than you could ever imagine, and he shifted so that he wasn’t resting on his ankles anymore, digging deep into his pocket as he brought out a little box.

“I went back to Japan. I was trying to find this little ring my father gave my mother back when he started to pine after her,” he opened up the box, a delicately cut blue diamond rind resting on a thin gold band stared back at you, shining in the candlelight, “I wanted to give it to you as a promise…” and he trailed off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he suddenly became a bit embarrassed, pocketing the box again as he looked back up at you.

“What was the promise?” You can barely hear your words over the thumping of your heart.

He swallows, slowly coming to standing back up, never losing his hold on you, clutching onto your thin nightgown as if it was the only thing grounding him to reality.

“That I’d marry you one day.” He whispered back, his voice hushed as if he didn’t want them to escape the vicinity of your room, this shared space between the two of you in which you stripped each other bare to the soul, only the find that they longed to be in each other's place even when they were miles apart.

Just as he did so many nights ago, he leaned closer to you, giving you time and space to push him away, to yell, to scream, but you didn’t, nudging his nose with yours as your lips found each other, this time quick and rough and not wanting to be patient because there was no room for such a thing.

He let out a small groan as you tugged on the hairs at the back of his nape, pushing you further down until your back hit one of your windows, feeling the cool night air from the glass as it traveled through the thin cotton of your slip

It seemed like something in him was finally let go, and you as well, and everything came tumbling down in the best way possible.

It was so messy and rushed and desperate that you felt like you were going to faint, the air from your lungs being stolen by his hungry and greedy lips as he pushed back roughly against you, needing to taste you, feel you, or else he simply wouldn’t make it.

Satoru tapped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso as you pulled away slightly, questioning him as he scoffed at your doubt.

“I spent a year getting bigger and stronger for you,” he murmurs against your lips, “and the first thing you said when you saw me was oh. Come on,” he nipped at your lips, his boyish and charming smile growing when you whimpered, “Test me out.”

You gave in, standing on your toes as you did what he asked, and you let out a little laugh of surprise at how he wasted no time wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he smirked, going away from the ball as he led you to your bed, basking in the sound of your twinkling laughter as you admired him in all his glory.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you tease and he snorts, fixing your gown as he hovers above you. He was huge, so much bigger than you anticipated in your imagination, but it was so much better than you ever could have thought.

“I’d never lie to you,” he promised, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips that left you breathless as he continued downwards, pressing kisses down your jaw, and your neck, spending time as he sucked at one of your vital points, enjoying the way you sounded like you had run a marathon.

He looks stunning here; his lips look bruised and swollen, pink and wet with spit. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body, and if you weren’t crazy about how he looked at you, you would’ve shielded yourself away in embarrassment.

But he didn’t give you any time to think it over, pushing past your loose nightgown as he pressed delicate pecks to your shoulders and upper chest region, looking up at you to make sure it was okay to continue.

You quickly nodded, eager to see what he was going to do.

“Mind if I take this off?” He asks, tugging at the ends of it as you look at him from beneath your lashes, trying to feel indifferent as you shrug, but the way you smile giddily gives away just how badly you want him to.

“I wouldn’t mind.” You help him move it upwards, your arms coming out from the sleeves as the chilly air hits your naked skin, and you suddenly realize just how out in the open you are compared to him.

Out of second nature, you go to cover your chest but he tsks, gently pushing your hands away as he eyes your breasts, looking like he had just come back from staring at the sistine chapel with the way he looks at you.

Your nipples harden from how cold it was, and he slowly dips his head down to one of your tits, kissing the soft and supple skin as he inches closer to your bud, finally latching his mouth onto it as you throw your head back, arching your back into his lips as he sucks like his life depends on it.

“S-shit, ‘Toru, so good,” you mewl, wrapping your hands around his neck as he flattens his tongue against your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive area as you whine even louder, not seeming to care if anybody outside your door could hear.

His other hand lathes onto your other one, not wanting to leave her unattended as he pinches your nipple between his two fingers, twisting it just enough to make you shut your eyes at how good the attention feels.

“Let me hear you,” he groans into your skin, looking up at you as you try to cover up your mouth with your hand, “I’ll stop if you cover up that pretty mouth of yours.”

You simply nod, leaving your shaky hand to grip your bed sheets as he switches his mouth and hand with each other, giving you different sensations to wrap your hands around as you feel a deep part of your pulse, needing more of him.

“‘Toru, please,” your voice comes out shaky as he releases your tit with a pop, his hands going down to hold onto your hips as you bring his chin up for another kiss of swapping spit with him, growing to appreciate the lewdness of it all as you lay feather light kisses on his jawline, feeling him shudder beneath you, “Wan’ more.”

At any other time, he would have drawn this out, would have teased and prodded at you to use your words, to tell him where you needed him most, but he couldn’t wait with you, wanting to have a taste of you himself.

So his wolfish grin comes back, his hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just above your mound as he cocks a brow at the way you seem to grow impatient, reaching the place you seemed to have in mind.

“Here?” He asked quietly, his pointer finger moving to find your clit as you let out a quiet gasp, his expert fingers having nothing on your inexperienced ones. Sure you’ve touched yourself deep into the night when you made sure everybody was asleep, but it never felt like this.

You couldn’t speak, so you nodded again, and that seemed to be good enough for Satoru as his finger moved down to your lips, a deep groan coming from within his chest as he felt how wet you were, and prodded his finger at your tight walls, slowly pushing past them as he seemed to be in a trance.

You sucked him in so delightfully, pulsing against his as your slick stained his finger, making it easier for him to fuck you with a little bit more pace, careful not to hurt you, as he brought it back up to circle at your clit, trying to find what places you liked to be teased most.

“O-oh my god,” your eyes rolled back in your head as his long find pushed back against your gummy walls, his other thumb finding your nub as you whined even louder, not used to feeling this good, spreading your legs out even further as you tried to make room for him.

“There you go, s’perfect,” he said against your skin, dipping down as he moved a hand to keep your thighs further apart, “Mind if I have a taste?” And you were in another dimension, just cradling his neck as you pushed him to go further.

He chuckled darkly, nearly going insane as he neared your glistening pussy, eyes growing dark as he moved his fingers away so that his tongue could have its turn, and you swore you almost came right there.

He licked gingerly, savoring you first as he groaned, his thumb never giving up on circling and massaging your clit, but he began to eat you out as his life depended on it, licking and sucking like you were his last meal.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru, fuck!” You screamed, biting your lip harshly as you kept your finger tight around his hair, “Don’t stop, please!”

“F-fuck,” he murmured, coming up for a quick breath as he looked at you from his long white lashes, “Fucking kill me if I ever stop, okay?”

He goes back in with the same amount of fervor, your chest moving up and down as you arch into his mouth, your jaw going slack as you quickly feel that rope in your stomach tightening, embarrassed at coming so early but knowing that there was no way you could stop yourself with the way he fingered you out at the same time he ate you out.

“I’m yours,” he said against your skin, “I’ll always be yours.” It was out of place, but it seemed like he was branding it into your skin so that everybody else knew, knew that he belonged solely to you.

It was too much, and you felt like you were slowly losing your ability to think, talk, or do anything, and the only thing you could feel was him, and you felt it all coming to a crescendo as his mouth latched onto your clit, letting it all go as you came into his mouth.

“‘M c-coming, mmmm fuck!” You couldn’t even believe the sounds you were making as you clenched around his finger, your essence coating his chin and hand as your legs were trembling, glad that he held a stable hand on your waist.

You saw white for a couple of seconds, taking even longer to catch your breath, your tits rising and falling with each heave, and you suddenly felt like you came back down to earth, peeking out from an eye to see Satoru smiling down at you, his face soft and you whined in shock at what just happened, hiding your face into one of your pillows as he laughed lowly, the sound dripping down your ears like warm honey.

“You just came around me, no need to be modest now.” He gently moved your face away from the sanctuary of your pillow so that you could look at him again, and he leaned down, pressing one final kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him as you let out a muffled moan.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he pulled away, sitting on his haunches, letting you drape the blanket around your sweaty chest as you tried to sit up, shaking a bit as you tried to recover from your mind-breaking orgasm.

“Good,” you say groggily, wiping at your eyes as you give him a lazy, languid smile, “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, chuckling as you nod, finding his hands as you play with his long fingers, and he lets you watch as you let them entangle with each other, somehow feeling more connected through this than the previous activity as you slowly pull him back down towards you, wanting nothing more than to curl into his chest.

“Give me a second love,” he wanted the same thing, but he pulled away, “Let me clean you up.”

You didn’t fight it and let him go, watching as he found the pitcher of water on your desk as he found a clean rag and wet it, coming back to your bed until his eyes caught something under the sheets.

He picked it up, reading it as he sat down next to you, running the cold towel across your thighs as you let out a little whimper at the temperature. He pressed an apologetic kiss to your forehead as he turned the paper around in silent questioning.

Your eyes widened, trying to take it away but he held it above your head. If you had more fight in you, you might have wrestled for it, but you gave up, letting him clean you up as he tried not to laugh at how measly it was.

“I doubt Cambell would know how to make you come.” He finally says, throwing the rag away somewhere as you groan, pushing his face slowly away as you try to fight the giddy laugh that was going to bubble its way from your chest.

“Stop! Lily was just trying to help!” You argue and he waves his hands, loosening the buttons of his tunic as he crawls in next to you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“It’s fine love,” he nestles his nose in your hairline, smiling when you hitch a leg over his, “You’re mine now.”

You look up at him, tracing over his features with the light touch of your fingertips as he leans into your warmth.

“Do you promise?”

He gives a single nod, sliding the delicate ring over your finger, and closes his hand around yours.

“Promise.”

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ministarfruit · 2 months

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minifemslashfeb 2024 summary - COMPLETE!!

WHAT A MONTH. and here we are, at the end of it. somehow. obligatory "congrats for surviving february" to you all. it was certainly hectic for me, but I crawl on. we all crawl on.

also, yes, my cat decided to use my tablet as a sleeping pad every single time I sat down so we were dealing with some obstacles along the way. you know how it is with cats. (she was rewarded handsomely for allowing me to use her sleeping pad to draw, don't worry.)

BUT in any case, please check out all the amazing entries this month that people have contributed to the tag: minifemslashfeb2024! I'm so happy to see so many people participating this year, definitely go take a look, there's so much epic sapphic content, we LOVE to see it!! other femslashfeb events ran this year too, so go feast. go on. lots out there to discover. wonderful world.

as always, stay awesome, stay loving, thanks for keeping me company once again.

cheers to another year ♡

#personal #minifemslashfeb2024 #it was fun trying out a bunch of different series this year!#thought I'd shake up the variety a little bit #of course that meant there were a lot of characters I wasn't able to draw #but I can draw them another time!#why is femslashfeb like happy new year for me HELP #OK NIGHT NIGHT #I'll keep the prompt list pinned for a little longer as some people are in different time zones #but yes!! please!! have a look at everyone else's work!!!#it's all out there!!!#yuri month STRONG!!!!

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syoddeye · 2 months

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useless, part two

Part Two of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Unfortunately I got carried away with this part, so I haven't used my third prompt yet. But that just means a Part Three is coming.

You could argue this fits 95. Attending an event together...

Read Part One. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Enjoy!

The ice bites through the steel shaker, your fingers sting, and the noise is a tick too loud, but both are decent distractions while you figure out what to say. In the corner of your eye, John watches with an amused look, tempting your elbow to somehow find his chin. When you finally stop, popping the cap to strain the vodka and vermouth, of course, he's already prepared with a snarky comment.

"Did it owe you money?"

"Yeah," you say, pulling an olive from a jar and dunking it into the glass. "Be glad you don't."

John leans on the counter beside you. "I'd hate to cross you."

"That's new," you retort, savoring both his mildly confused look and the drink. "They feed you growth hormones in the army?"

He laughs. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

You suppress a smile behind your glass and cross an arm over your front. "Are you back for long?"

His laughter peters out, and he shakes his head. "Nah, I leave tomorrow night."

"Mm," The noncommittal masks your wilting. You study John's face in the half-second pause. Since stepping foot in the house, no, since hearing about this soiree yesterday, he's plagued your thoughts. All those hours spent in each other's company for the better part of a year. That dumb fight resurfaces. You're not going to amount to anything! Classic John to prove you wrong. The jerk.

"My mom told me you're doing well for yourself. You graduated something early? That you got into the SAS or whatever?"

"'Whatever'?" John scoffs, turning to face you better, enunciating each word as if you can't recite As You Like It by memory. "Yes. I'm doing well. You're looking at Lieutenant John Price, I'll have you know."

You arch an eyebrow. You know, in your gut, it is impressive. How or why is a mystery; it just is. Zero chance you'll let him know that. "And that's a big deal?"

"To some people."

"Well, I'm not 'some people'." You say with a tilt of your head.

"No, you're not," He answers a mite quieter before taking another swig and straightening. "Rumor mill says I'm looking at another promotion, maybe next year."

"What'll your title, er, rank be then?"

He smirks. "Captain."

You nod as if this again means something to you, a foreign civilian, and make a show of it. "Right," Your eyes hold each other in place in his parent's kitchen. A balloon of silence begs to be popped, for a decade's worth of fleeting memories and games of telephone through your mothers, to burst and ease the tension. And it's so typical, so John, that he hasn't even asked about y–

"And how're you faring?"

Stunning. Fucking karmic.

You can't stop yourself. "Oh, look at you, John Price. Did the army also finally teach you how to hold conversations?"

His eyes narrow a fraction, and that quizzical pinching of his brow returns. His lips part to speak, but a commotion at the entrance to the kitchen draws your attention. A pair of older men meander in, pink-faced and glassy-eyed, slurring the words to Auld Lang Syne two and a half hours too early. You take it for what it surely is, an out, and slip away.

John's parents are eager enough to receive you in the crowded living room and return to their fawning. You'd rather wade through another stint of stilted conversation with their questions about your credits stateside or reminisce about embassy days than suffer John pretending to give a shit regarding your useless career.

You dance around speaking to him again, politely finding ways to dip in and out of conversations he thrusts himself into. The practice leverages all parts of your acting career and what you remember of the education your mother gave you. Smile, nod, ask leading questions, and watch for the interloper. It pays off, as John seems to eventually get the hint and fades into the background of the party.

When the clock strikes half past eleven and some ex-policy advisor nearly spills his ale on you, you decide it's time to sneak out. You've overstayed your allotted time. John's nowhere in sight, most guests are deep within their cups, and the giddiness of the impending countdown is palpable. It's easy enough to step into the front hall unseen without an ounce of guilt in your veins. You came, you saw, you drank expensive vodka, and made nice with your mother's friends.

Buttoning your coat, you step out into the night's chill and start down the steps. You're two paces from the garden gate when a man's voice pushes into your ear.

"Goin' somewhere?"

The two courses of stage combat you've completed guide your hand in a flat chop to the offending jugular. The owner of said jugular, however, catches the blow with an arm, then laughs, a rich and deep sound, to drive the humiliation home.

"John, Jesus Christ, you complete asshole!" You hiss, turning to shove the man standing in the shadows behind you.

"There she is," He cracks, still chuckling. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah right, you absolute-"

"Arse?" His hands rise in defense when you glare, the glow of a cigar catching your eye before he lowers it to his mouth for a puff. It's a moment before his mouth opens, the tobacco scent permeating the short distance between you. "Just out for a smoke."

Wrinkling your nose, you sigh. "That is awful for your health."

"So's my line of work," He counters.

"Fair point."

"Glad you think so."

You stare at him again. Admittedly, it's hard not to. Even in the dark, the glint of his steady gaze tethers. Maybe it's the military thing—like he's learned to restrain people without touching them. It must be because it couldn't be anything else. A shiver compels you to speak. "I have to get going."

"So close to the bell?"

"I need to prepare for an audition," You lie. There is no audition. The only thing waiting for you at home is an inherited prompt book for Kiss Me Kate to work on.

"I'll walk you to the station."

"You don't need to do that."

John corrals you toward the gate, his accompaniment apparently a foregone conclusion, and holds it open as you pass. "C'mon. It's been ten years. You used to escort me all the time."

You huff. "That was security, not me."

"You were always in the car, weren't you?"

John sticks to your side despite your protests, which last for all of one street. You slip once, and his arm offers itself immediately, which you take only for stability. Beneath the layers, his muscle is firm and a sure thing, unchallenged by your leaning on it. He's always been strong.

"Is there a reason you avoided me all night?" he asks suddenly, showing you the small mercy of keeping his eyes trained forward.

The walk is slick, and you realize that a minute too late, his arm is both a gentlemanly safeguard and a leash.

"I didn't avoid you."

"No, you just ran off again before I could talk to you."

Ran off again. The lout remembers. Has to.

"Fine. I wasn't in the mood to be reminded of my failures."

He scoffs, arm flexing to squeeze your hand. "You weren't a failure. Furthest thing from it."

"I'm not talking about school, John," you snap, exasperated. You regret ever wishing he'd inquire after you. "I don't—I don't want to talk about that." You see him glance in your periphery and then search the air for a way forward. You provide it.

"So, Captain. That's a big deal." As much as it kills you, it's easier to speak of his successes. "Bet your parents are over the moon."

John sighs. "They're thrilled."

"You do anything particularly insane to earn it?"

"Can't tell you," he answers automatically, a notch more serious, his cigar adding a touch of drama.

You pat his arm. "You'd have to kill me?"

"Something like that."

A few minutes pass in silence. Muffled music and cheers trickle through open windows on either side of the streets. Midnight rapidly approaches, as does the station.

"You seeing anyone?"

Oof. Maybe you should've spoken about your failing acting career. At least that had some color and excitement.

"No. My boyfriend, uh, ex-boyfriend ended things a week ago."

John stops, gently tugging when you nearly stumble. His expression is difficult to read between lampposts, but his tone suggests contempt. "At Christmas?"

You want to laugh at his incredulity, the pure scandal in his voice. But you don't. He's gone all serious again. "Two days before, actually. It's alright though," you nudge him to walk again. "It wasn't anything serious."

It's the truth. Jeff was a middling boyfriend. He was never going to go the distance. He'd been a half-decent romp and someone to drink with.

"Well he seems like a serious idiot."

"I won't fight you on that," you shrug. "And you, Captain? I bet you must beat them off with a stick in uniform."

He chuckles, releasing smoke. "I'm not a Captain yet. And I'm too busy."

"You'll make Captain," you say a little too quickly, too confidently, snapping your focus back to the stairs to the station ahead. "I can make it from here."

John seems to consider it. He's quiet before he snuffs out his cigar on a bin. "I'll walk down with you."

You descend the steps arm in arm, passing a giggling, buzzed couple on their way up.

"It's a shame you're leaving before midnight, Cinderella," John teases as you stroll slowly into the virtually empty tunnel. His head is on a swivel. Ever the soldier, apparently.

The ground is dry and even below street level. There's no need to keep his arm.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not stick around to see everything turn back into pumpkins," you check the time. The train is due at 12:02 AM.

John seems almost on edge as he looks around. You feel a slight, frenetic energy reverberating where your arms touch, mismatching the absolute rigidity of his bearing. His eyes are wilder when they meet yours, and his head dips slightly.

You frown. "What's wrong?"

"It's good luck to kiss somebody at midnight." He all but blurts out.

Your hold on his arm loosens, but he grips back firmer. "That's what's got you in a tizzy?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to need all the luck I can get this next year."

What is he going on about? His promotion? You're unsure if you like how he's looking at you. "John—"

A trio on the platform starts counting down some distance away, but the sound carries.

"Please." It's earnest. It's certain.

You bite your cheek, searching for any hint of this being a joke. "Just a friendly peck." you clarify.

"'Course." He reels you in, eyes half-lidded, closing in suddenly with a barely held-back urgency.

A hand cupping the back of your head knocks a gasp out of you. "It doesn't change anything." You quickly add.

"Not a thing."

Cheers erupt down the platform, but you barely hear them over the roar of blood in your ears. John's mouth is a force. It's earnest. It's certain. It was never going to be a friendly peck. You've kissed many people on stage and off, but never quite like this.

The train's rumbling knocks you back into reality. You're both breathing heavier. John's eyes darken with a hungry look, and everything in his posture suggests he's after more. Your name slips from his mouth like a command.

"Stay," he orders.

But you're not a soldier. You've never even played one. You're not equipped to face whatever this is—what that was. The doors to the car open behind you, and his eyes flicker toward them as if to will them shut. You shake your head imperceptibly.

"Happy New Years, John."

You step into the train, a coward. You don't look back to see if he watches the train depart, but you know he does.

It's another fourteen years before you see John Price again.

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #smug lieutenant john price is so important to me #cw alcohol

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minimallyminnie · 11 months

Text

Unspoken Words.

I’m trying out a new format for my posts so don’t mind me~

Summary- When Azul focuses too much on work than you, it doesn’t go well. Will he chose work or his significant other..?

Tw: Reader being sad, Azul crying, yes there’s a fucking child

Tags: Gn Reader x Azul Ashengrotto, Gn reader, Yes you are the prefect, Azul being a silly himbo/hj, happy ending, gn child, you can imagine yourself with the kid being biological or adopted, whatever you choose

Enjoy you poor unfortunate souls…

“Azul?” You called out into his study looking for your love

“I am very busy right now. What do you want?” He said, not looking up from his contracts

“They’re…they’re in bed, you don’t need to worry about them but, when will you come to bed?”

He voice displays no emotion as he continues on working

“Not right now. Later.”

You bite your lip and grip the door handle tighter. You wanted him to come back to sleep by your side. But work always was first place in his life rather than anyone or anything else.

“Azul…I…” You look up with a tiny piece of hope that he would look at you but to no avail. “Nevermind…I love you Azzy…” You don’t hear a response back but rather a pen scratching the paper.

Sighing softly, you head to the cold room hurt.

You lie down on the bed, underneath the blankets but yet, you’re still cold.

Taking your pillow, you hold it and just let your tears leak down.

Azul was a smart man. Yes, he overblotted because of various things…but he’s a smart man.

He managed to get his business far and profitable. He’s successful. The Maestro cafe being much further than he’d ever imagined.

Azul has a family and a successful life…

Yes, his family wants to spend time with him but he’s trying to keep everything together so he can grow his business and provide for them.

But…he doesn’t know why his heart feels like it’s yearning for something…

Like he’s doing something wrong, but what is it?

He ends up dozing off in the end.

“Daddy.”

Jade, Floyd, Azul and you are startled by the small child that just walked into Maestro cafe and hugged Floyd’s leg

“Floyd?! We literally took a class in biology to use prote-“

“Let’s not say that in front of the kid!” You cut Azul off

He picks up the child, expecting them to cry

“Ooh~! I could squeeze you to death little guppy!”

“Floyd! You’re going to scare-“

Instead of crying or screaming, the guppy laughs and puts their hands on Floyd’s cheeks

You put the cleaning cloth into the back of your pocket while you and Jade laugh at both of them

“Aww~! Can we keep it Jade? Azul?”

“I think we should since we need more helpers~”

“Cut it out you two, we don’t even know who’s it is!”

“You shouldn’t call a child an it…” You told your friend

Once the youngest hears you speak, they look at you and make grabby hands

And then they call out to you using their name for you

And everyone looks absolutely shocked

“I’m sorry, what.”

“Little shrimpy has a guppy?!”

“Oh great seven, you didn’t tell us this~”

Floyd happily hands the child to you and instantly, they laugh in your arms

“This baby isn’t mine! I swear on my life you three!”

And the twins start to draw closer to you as Azul looks terrified in the back

Until—

“Papa!” The 5 year old reaches to touch Jade’s cheeks

“Jade, Floyd, [Name]! Did you three have one child altogether or something behind my back?!”

“No!” “Perhaps!”

And it happens all over again…

When you four tell Crowley about it, he tells you to deal with it yourself in a paraphrased term until the baby bit his arm

He then says to keep it in Ramshackle or Octavinelle, which to keep Grim from complaining or arguing with the child, you all decided to keep them in Octavinelle

When you asked Lilia about it, he said that the baby was somehow sent to the past and that he was able to get it back at the end of the week

You silently celebrated in your confusion towards the young child. It was Monday so you only had to last until Sunday! Good enough!

After your shift at Maestro cafe, you always went to the vip room with Azul and Jade to see Floyd hanging out with the child

Strangely enough, they didn’t seem to want to play with Azul very much. Going as far as clinging onto one of the Tweel’s or yours arm instead and a frustrated Azul not knowing what he did wrong, rereading contracts

In the middle of the week, you’re busy doing something with the rest of the first years and the twins have to make up a test so it’s just Azul and the small child that for some reason, did not like him.

The child sits far away coloring with crayons, quiet, not trying to bother him to play with them. Like…it’s some sort of burden.

Azul wonders as he writes on another contract what he did wrong

And he finally gets his guts together

Rolling up the paper, he sets it aside and moves closer to the child

“What are you drawing?”

“…My family.” They say quietly, unlike the boisterous yelling they do with the others

“May I take a look?”

“Y’never look when I wan’ you to.”

That perks Azul’s attention up

“Do you know me in the future?”

The child nods hesitantly

“You…you’re my real papa. Y’don’t like me very much though.”

Azul’s eyes widen

“I-I’m y-your father?”

“Yeah…” They stop their drawing and slides it to Azul’s side

There was them in the middle of you and the Tweels. Azul being on the other side of the paper.

“[Child’s Name]…May I ask you why ‘I don’t like you’ in your time and why I’m far away even when I’m your father?”

“Y’don’t play with me. You don’t eat with me n’ [Nickname] at the table, you…you always in your study room working on…c-cont-racts.”

A sniffle comes from the child

“I see Jadey and Flo around more than you…I can see [Nickname] being sad cause y’not there. You..you only care ‘bout work.”

Oh and how Azul’s heart shatters hearing about this. He does get with his crush and have a family, but he took it for granted. Future him took his happy family for granted. The route he’s going now, only focusing on his own profit, will only cause pain.

He cusses in his head.

“No, no, I don’t care about work. Not now.” Azul moves to the child’s side, picking them up into his arms and hugging them tightly

“I don’t know what happened in the future but, I would love you. No matter what. Future me is quite silly so do not believe in him.”

“You…you really wanna be my daddy?”

“I don’t ‘wanna’ be, I am your father. I shouldn’t have taken that for granted. To have a cute mini octopus like you in my life as well as your [Nickname] makes me feel happy. I don’t know what will happen once you get sent back but for the rest of this week, I will give you everything.”

“Pinky promise?” Azul rubs the tears away with a handkerchief as they point their pinky out. He smiles happily

“Pinky promise.” He clasps their pinkys together

After they finish crying, they turn over to the table and scratches the former paper with a black crayon before getting a new one

“Oh? Why did you do that?”

“Daddy wants to be with me! I wanna remake it now!”

“Can I draw with you then?”

“Yeah!”

Needless to say when the three of you rushed over to the vip room expecting the baby to cry or be alone, you all are surprised seeing a Azul with them in his lap, both drawing while having a conversation.

What’s more surprising?

The soft expression Azul has on his face.

Your heart beats a bit faster as adoration pops up in your chest.

Lilia had told you all that after he sent them back, that everyone would lose their memories. With that, Azul used that to his advantage and told you three who the child really belonged to.

The Tweels spent an hour teasing you and Azul about it

When it’s time to say goodbye, Lilia is busy reading the spell while the child hugs the twins tightly

“Bye bye Jadey! Bye bye Flo!”

“Wahh…does guppy have to go…?”

“Unless you want a time paradox or something, yeah they do.” Lilia pats both of twins on the back

Fortunately for you and Azul who were watching in the back, the twins backed off and gave you a moment’s peace with your the child.

“[Nickname]! Papa!” They come up and you both kneel down to reciprocate their embrace

Your eyes lock with Azul’s and for a split second he sees you in a wedding outfit. Your left hand which was laying on top of the guppy’s head was adorned with two rings.

He blinks and sees you in the normal school uniform but can’t help but smile happily at his future family.

“Remember our promise. Ok?” He tells them once you three part

The smaller nods excitedly before standing in front of a waiting Lilia

And thus, he casts the spell. The spell replaces everyone’s memories with what should’ve happened without the child

And they start to progress again…

Azul wakes up, flinching

He doesn’t know how but he woke up from this…strange dream.

Did…did he really only focus on work?

He thinks back to the past few months and his face retorts in horror of the realization

He has. He needs to make it up to his family before it’s too late.

Azul rushes out of his study to the bedroom to see you asleep with puffy eyes

He leaps on the bed, shaking you in near tears

“H-huh? Azul…? What is it? Do you need something—“

He cuts you off with a hug that pins you back to the bed

“Azzy?! Wha-what’s wrong?!”

“Please forgive me. I’ve been a terrible husband and father recently. Focusing o-only on work, how silly of me to lose sight of what I truly love.” His arms tighten around you

“Azul…can’t breathe…”

Azul quickly pulls off of and sits up anxiously. Waiting for you to say you don’t forgive him or divorce him but what comes next is nothing but a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’m just happy that you finally realized it. I was so scared I lost you. But just to note, I’ll kick your ass if you do this again.” You whisper in his ear as you hug him tightly

“I’ll take that anytime.” He then sneaks under the blanket with you and held you throughout the night, whispering to you that he would never leave you again.

In the morning, he asks the twins to take over for him today. They happily agreed, cheering over the phone. Seems like they noticed his change in behavior too.

He chuckles to himself before he feels your presence next to him, rubbing your head into his shoulder.

“It’s rare you cook.”

“I plan on doing this more. Haven’t done this for you two in a long time.”

You laugh and kiss him before you both hear small footsteps in the hallway

“[Nickname], I have brushed m’ teeth by myself!” They stand proud before their shock is evident on their face at Azul’s presence

“Hi little guppy,” You pat them on their head as they look at Azul with hesitation “Good job on brushing your teeth all on your own! Papa is off work today so he can spend time with us. Wanna say hi?”

You look at him and his expression is bitter at how he left you two alone. He catches your glance and sees how you just tell him to try.

He walks towards his kid as you watch the stovetop.

Kneeling down, he held the smaller hands in his.

“I…I haven’t been a good father for you my dear fry. I’m so sorry for that. To pay attention to my work more than my own family was a huge mistake. I wish to make it up to you in any way no matter how long it takes. I’ll look at your drawings, play with your toys, cook your favorite thing. I love you so much. I am so, so sorry.” He looks down sadly as he tells him

“Nuh-uh! You’re my daddy. You are my papa! You said sorry and you wanna color with me! I like that. Jadey and Flo took care of me but you’re my favorite! I love you too!” The child grins brightly at him and Azul wells up in tears again, hugging the small child’s frame tightly.

And a whisper came from them

“You kept our promise. I’m happy.” And they rush off to the table once you call for them to wash their hands and eat.

The whispered phrase nudges at him

‘Was it…truly a dream or did we both experience that…?”

My dumbass kept thinking about how this sounds like The Christmas Carol wayyy too much. Anyways best Christmas movie 10/10, fight me. @demon-lover-669 thank you for the prompt. That was delicious.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x yuu #azul ashengrotto x mc #Azul ashengrotto x male reader #Azul ashengrotto x female reader #Azul ashengrotto x gn reader #angst #hurt/comfort #happy ending #minniemoots #mindlessclow #x reader #gn reader #twisted wonderland x female reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader

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desceros · 3 months

Text

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

#text tag #feel free to reblog this around. it started out as a thing for turtle fam but we all agreed that it would be fun for The Community #anyway yeehaw let's spend all of february thinking about what to do and then the night of feb 29 doing it RAH #tmntspringshellebration

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goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

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saccharinesunsetretired · 5 months

Text

Wilbur Soot’s Guide to Side Hustles | camboy!Simpbur x camgirl!reader | Part One

My first ever series on this blog yayayayay! Also first time writing Simpbur. No fucking clue when the next chapter will be up though. Could be next week. Could be a month. Life contains many mysteries.

Summary: Wilbur has had a long line of obsessions in his time. In a desperate attempt to get the attention he craves, he starts making content online. When he encounters you at a party full of other creators...well, he's never been good at staying away from things that draw him in, and you may very well be his undoing.

Warnings/Tags: sub!Simpbur, dom!reader. Unrealistic sex/depictions of sex work (although I did try), smut, pegging, general simpbur creepiness, discussions of virignity/consent, low self-esteem and insecurity problems, unhealthy attitudes toward sex. Reader is AFAB and a woman

Word Count: 11.3k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

“Hey, creep.”

Wilbur blinked and looked up from his math textbook. Standing right in front of him was a girl from his English course, a girl he’d had a crush on for years. They had never actually spoken. Instead, he’d done what he did best—watched from afar and stayed out of it. For a moment, despite her harshness, he just stared, basking in her attention.

She laughed, and her friends laughed from a few desks away as they looked on. “Do you know how to speak?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. He could feel his cheeks burning. “What’s, um…what’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” The girl laughed again. “I’ve seen you hovering near my locker, you fucking pervert.”

Wilbur froze. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Oh, you weren’t?” She leaned against a nearby desk. “Who’s been leaving me notes, then?”

Wilbur wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole. He had been leaving notes. And admittedly, yes, some of them were creepier than others. The notes ranged from Good luck on midterms :) to You looked so hot in class today. And despite Wilbur’s general lack of self-awareness, he recognized how this looked. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop.”

“If you don’t, I’m reporting you,” she replied. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Got it.” Wilbur had never felt more embarrassed. The other students began to whisper. He could feel a million eyes on him—well, what felt like a million, at least. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at his desk as his eyes stung.

“Good.” The girl stood there for another few moments. “It’s a waste,” she said. “You could almost be cute, if you weren’t such a freak.”

Present Day

You could almost be cute if you weren’t such a freak.

Wilbur remembered that, because of course he did. It was the closest he ever got to someone returning his affections. Yes, he knew it was pathetic, but that shred of affirmation went a long way.

He started bettering himself. It started with better hygiene, not wearing clothes multiple days in a row, properly washing his hair. His parents had been bothering him to do that for ages, anyway. He dressed better, tried to socialize. That last point didn’t go too well. He got bullied to the point that he ended up switching schools and had to deal with the fact that at least a bit of it was warranted.

He never saw that crush of his ever again. He developed new ones, new fixations. He didn’t leave notes, though, or stalk anyone or do anything to arouse suspicion. He promised himself that he could be normal, that he would be normal.

Well, perhaps he’d intentionally switched classes a few times to “keep an eye on” some of the people he became fixated on. But was that such a big deal?

And then university came. Loans, what felt like a million dollars in debt. One night, the result of a drunken decision, he filmed himself getting off. On an even more questionable drunken decision, he posted it online to some internet forum he had only heard of in passing. The second he remembered it the next day (after recovering physically a bit from his previous drinking binge), he was absolutely mortified. And yet, to his immense surprise, people liked it. It wasn’t any sort of viral sensation, of course, but he had a decent number of comments when he woke up in the morning. At first, he was put off by the vulgarity of it, but then, he realized that this was how he could get the high that he’d always craved—attention.

He started working on it. Filming videos, uploading photos. Pretty soon, he had an OnlyFans account going. His content was mostly solo stuff, webcam livestreams and private chats with his more dedicated followers. To his surprise, he started making decent money. It was nice to have something to help relieve some of the university debt. Plus, the validation was nice, even if it was only in praise of his body.

Besides, he had long given up the idea of anybody loving him for anything other than that.

Online, his persona was more submissive. It was easier for him, not having to fake confidence that he didn’t have. Instead, he could let himself moan as loud as he wanted, let the microphone pick up every small gasp and whine as he got himself off either with his hands or one of the million toys that he’d purchased since starting the job. The needier he looked, the better.

Then, he found the confidence to do his first collaboration. The benefits of moving to a larger area for university were plenty, but one of the biggest benefits turned out to be the fact that he was far from the only sex worker in the city. He lost his virginity to a girl on a livestream, although she didn’t know it was his first time. At least, she pretended not to know. Wilbur got the feeling that she could tell. Either way, it had made good content. In fact, it had been so profitable that she had invited him to a small gathering of some other creators—sex workers of all types.

And that was how he ended up holding a can of cheap beer in the corner of a party. It was at someone’s apartment, someone he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. The music was far too loud, the conversation too overwhelming. For a moment, Wilbur was sixteen again, sitting at his desk and wanting to disappear.

At least, until you walked in. You, dressed to the nines for a simple house party. For a moment, he locked eyes with you, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked away first, too intimidated, too afraid. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as you walked into the kitchen to greet the host of the party and grab a drink.

When you reentered the living room, Wilbur’s eyes immediately went back to you. Suddenly, it was as if nobody else was there. He could feel it creeping up on him again, the beginning of an obsession.

Be normal, he reminded himself. Don’t be a creep.

He watched as you greeted almost everyone at the party, flawlessly interacting with the guests. Clearly, you knew your way around. Eventually, you made your way over to Wilbur. He took a sip of his beer to try and appear casual, only to choke slightly.

“Shit, didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, chuckling. “You alright?” You leaned against the wall right beside him, so close that he could smell your shampoo. Or maybe it was perfume. He couldn’t tell, and honestly didn’t care to discern the difference.

“Fine,” Wilbur replied. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. You caught me mid-sip.”

“My bad, stranger.” You offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. And you’re Wilbur, right? Allison told me about you.”

Wilbur hesitantly shook your hand before pulling his own hand away suspiciously quick. “Right, yeah,” Wilbur replied. “We did a livestream earlier.”

“I heard. Apparently it was a hit.” You briefly glanced at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “And you’re new on the scene…?”

“Yeah, pretty new.” Wilbur shrugged, trying to play it cool and relax his nerves. “That was my first non-solo livestream.” And my first time having sex ever his mind reminded him. Because people only want you if they can profit.

He shook the thought away as you spoke again. “Damn. Pretty good for your first time, then.” You grinned at him. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention so quickly.”

“It’s…definitely been a surprise to me,” Wilbur agreed. A tense silence passed between you and Wilbur. “So…you also do the whole…camgirl thing?” He thought that he’d heard of you in passing, but before, he’d had no reason to look you up.

“Yeah! Two years and going. Still doing mostly solo stuff, but trying to branch out a little,” you replied. “It can be difficult to know who to trust in this industry, who genuinely has your best interests at heart and who is taking advantage.”

“I bet.” Wilbur set his beer aside. It wasn’t that good, anyway. “Do you like it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Other times no. Depends on how creepy people are that day.”

Wilbur laughed, nodding in agreement. He watched you as you took a sip of your own drink, some sort of cocktail. “But you make good money?” he asked. His frenzied mind attempted to come up with some flirtatious lines, but nothing else left his mouth. Considering how cringy all the lines were, it was for the better.

“Decent money,” you replied. “And you?”

“Decent money.”

“Cool.” Wilbur felt slightly uneasy as you eyed him up and down. “Hand me your phone,” you said after a moment.

Wilbur blinked. “Why?” he asked. Despite his questioning, he unlocked his phone and handed it over without complaint.

“So I can give you my number,” you replied. You began entering your contact information. “Not to be too forward, but the main reason I came to this party was just to network. Like I said, I’m branching out, and it seems that you’re doing the same.” You handed his phone back. “Maybe we could collab.”

Wilbur felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt like it was spinning, and considering he’d only had half a beer, he definitely couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “Oh. Um…you sure?”

You smirked. “You seem harmless enough, Wil. Besides, we can talk a bit beforehand, get to know each other a little. I’d rather not fuck someone without knowing a bit about them.”

“Fair.” Wilbur very shakily tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He noticed you starting to leave. “We’ll be in touch, then?” he asked.

You winked. “You can count on it.” Only a moment later, you disappeared into the crowd.

Wilbur left the party immediately after. He saw no point in staying if he couldn’t talk with you more. Even after that sliver of conversation, everyone else at the party seemed even more dull than before. He got into the back of a taxi, trying (and failing) to make his brain go quiet.

All he could think about was your skin under the multicolored lights at the party, the sound of your laugh, the brightness of your smile. He checked his phone, and all he could think about was the fact that your hands had touched it less than fifteen minutes prior. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right he would get to touch you for real.

He imagined your hands on him, fingers curled around his cock. Nobody had ever given him a handjob before, but he (for better or worse) had always had a vivid imagination. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window of the cab as he imagined it, your fingers on him. He tried to imagine every detail, the texture of your fingertips, the tone of voice you would use as you praised him.

By the time the taxi dropped him off outside his apartment building, he was achingly hard. He made it to his studio apartment, took off his coat and shoes, and immediately sat on his bed. He opened his laptop and searched for your name.

Sure enough, he found your OnlyFans, as well as the few free teaser clips that you’d uploaded elsewhere. There you were, a vibrator on your clit in one clip, your fingers teasing your own nipples as you moaned for the camera.

He slammed the laptop shut. No, he told himself. No more obsessions. If you manage to make this work, all she’ll be to you is a colleague, a coworker.

Don’t be a creep.

He got out of bed and made it to the bathroom, where he stripped, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and turned on the shower. A cold shower would do the trick, he figured. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried the method, but it was the best he could think of. He could scrub away all thoughts of you, get rid of his hard-on, and call it a night.

He shivered as the cold water hit him. It felt fucking awful, cold water on his skin when all he wanted was warmth, but he toughed it out, waiting for his “problem” to resolve itself.

But it was no use. All he could think about was the sound of you moaning in that video, gorgeous lips parted, legs spread. He couldn’t help but wish he could hear you moan for real, not the fake sort of moans that are exaggerated for the camera.

He gave up after a while and got out, wrapping his lower body in a towel as he did a walk of shame back to his bed. He sat on the towel and reopened his laptop.

He found your OnlyFans page, and without thinking, he subscribed. He wasn’t sure if you could see his username if he used his official account, so he made another guest account. You were worth the inconvenience. He started to scroll. He saw a clip of you and Allison, you grinding against her thigh. Another clip showed you edging yourself into oblivion, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. That was the clip he finally settled on.

He edged himself along with the video, stopping whenever you stopped. If your hand stopped moving, so would his. In his mind, it felt almost like mutual masturbation, like you were really there doing this with him. He imagined you watching him, murmuring praise to him.

It wasn’t often that he got off without toys, not because he couldn’t, but because he was almost always filming his orgasms, and thus toys were usually involved. Despite not having any added vibration or stimulation, he came harder simply from touching himself while watching your videos than he had in months.

He laid there afterward, his own cum on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. You’re absolutely hopeless, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t stop now. Not when you were so close.

It took Wilbur three days to work up the courage to text you, and from then on, conversation flowed naturally. At first, it was small talk about the industry—which people did you know, how many parties had you been to, what sort of content were you interested in making, and on and on and on. Wilbur was honest, admitting his lack of experience in the world of sex work, although he didn’t admit his lack of sexual experience in general. If he did, he might scare you off or make you hesitant, and he didn’t want that.

Conversation then turned to more personal matters. Still surface level, yes, but less detached than talks of industry and networking. He learned that you were a camgirl on the side, using the funds to add to the money you made from waitressing as you saved up. He also learned your favorite restaurant in the city (which he offered to take you to sometime, delighted when you accepted the offer) as well as your favorite bands, books, movies…all the surface-level questions he could hope to get answers for.

To his dismay, two weeks of texts went by without you mentioning possibly meeting up to film together. Just when he thought that was off the table and this would only amount to friendship, his phone buzzed as he was working on an essay. He picked it up, assuming it would be either one of his parents or a spam call, and grinned when he saw your name. You were requesting a FaceTime call, so he quickly smoothed his hair before answering.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully. Wilbur was so relieved to see your face, not just on your OnlyFans, but you, you choosing for him to see you. You looked like you were fresh out of the shower, and he realized quickly that you weren’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t see anything below your shoulders, but the realization still had him speechless for a moment before he regained his composure.

“Hi!” he said back with equal cheerfulness. “How’re you?” He flicked on another light in his apartment so that you could see him better.

“Good,” you replied. A moment of silence passed. “Listen, are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah, why?” The truth was, Wilbur wasn’t free Saturday. He was in a study group for an upcoming exam, but at that moment, he decided that he didn’t give a shit. He would happily flunk an exam if it meant getting to spend more time with you. He had only seen you in person once, and only for a tiny moment in time, and all he had thought about since then was getting more.

“I have a business idea,” you said. Wilbur watched as you sat down on a couch at what must be your apartment. He caught a glimpse of the top of a towel wrapped around your torso, and although this thought made him slightly disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Still, his disappointment only lasted a second once your words sunk in.

“A business idea?” He immediately perked up. “What is it?” His mind went wild with possibilities. A livestream? Some short clips? A whole homemade porn film?

“So…your online persona is more on the submissive side, right?” you asked.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “How did you know?” Although the two of you had talked about the industry, bonded over creeps on the internet and the like, the details of your content had gone mostly undiscussed.

He noticed the rather sheepish expression on your face. “I may have done some research,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to fight to keep himself calm. You had done research on him? That meant you had definitely seen some of his content, and not only that, but seeing his content made you more interested. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anybody else, he wouldn’t have cared, but you? You, the subject of his obsession (he’d finally admitted to himself that’s what it was), the person he thought of every night before going to bed, thought he was desirable? Maybe not desirable, but at least worthy of seeing, worthy of working with. That was enough.

“It’s not weird!” he reassured you. “I…I may have done the same.” He did not tell you that he had a whole folder on his laptop that was only clips of you, that he’d labeled each video, that he’d gotten himself off to every single one. He definitely didn’t tell you that while filming himself the day prior, he’d been thinking of you the entire time. No, that was too much. That was creepy, that was obsession…but based on your admission, he figured a bit of the truth couldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, you reacted positively. “Thank god,” you said, laughing softly. “I thought you’d think I was a pervert.”

“No! No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I would never.” He settled his back against the headboard of his bed. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”

“Well, as I was saying,” you continued, “your persona is more on the submissive side. I portray myself as more dominant. Very convenient for us, no?” Wilbur nodded along as you spoke. “I was wondering…” You trailed off. “I can be forward with you, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it that way.”

“Great! How do you feel about getting pegged?” A moment of silence passed as Wilbur’s brain completely short-circuited. He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until you spoke again. “Okay, uh…maybe I was too blunt.” He heard your awkward laugh through the phone.

“No! No, not too blunt at all. I’m fine with it,” he replied. “Yeah, no, that sounds great.” He tried to hide the nervous undertone to his voice. Using toys on himself is one thing; being on the receiving end of someone else’s movements is another. “I’d be down for that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You were quiet for a moment, there.”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m completely sure,” Wilbur replied. “You want to, um, livestream that? Or are we just filming…?”

“Just filming,” you replied. “Having sex live is way more complicated. This way, we can try a couple different angles to see what looks best on camera.”

“Right.” Wilbur took a deep breath. “That sounds good. You said Saturday?”

“Saturday, yeah,” you responded. “And I was thinking we do it at my place. No offense, I’m sure your setup is nice, but I’ve been in the game a bit longer. I’ve probably got nicer gear.”

“That’s great. Sounds good.” Wilbur’s nerves kicked up a few more notches. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He was going to walk in, immediately get hard just looking at your setup (which was already somewhat familiar to him) and look like a loser. He tried to shove that thought away.

Thankfully, it seemed that you sensed his discomfort. “Listen, uh…I know that you’ve only done something like this once,” you said. “If you ever change your mind, you can leave. I won’t judge you for that, even if we’re in the middle of filming. Consent rules don’t magically go away when there are cameras rolling.”

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his chest. You were smiling warmly at him over FaceTime, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you. His thoughts weren’t sexual, at least not in the moment.

His mind wandered. When was the last time he’d been held by somebody? He’d never once been held by somebody who liked him romantically. He wasn’t sure that anyone outside his family had ever so much as hugged him. The thought made him dizzy. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me. It’s basic decency.” You continued smiling at him. “Oh, we don’t have a time set. Does one work?”

“One is fine,” Wilbur replied. “I’m totally cool with one.”

“Sounds good. Saturday at one, then,” you said. “Be ready to film.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wilbur promised. He just hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

He spent the rest of the week panicking. He shoved himself into schoolwork, studying, finishing up the essay that you had distracted him from. On Saturday morning, he woke up, shaved, took a shower, blow-dried his hair and got dressed. He knew that the clothes would be coming off, but he tried to dress somewhat nice anyway. He figured that even his nicest jeans and a button-up would be fine. He kept reminding himself that a business encounter was all this interaction would be.

Around noon, he got a text from you:

Hey ;) ready to film?

He quickly replied.

Born ready. Send your address?

The next message contained your address. He took a deep breath, brushed his teeth (for the third time that day) and set off. He left his apartment, got into his car, and started driving.

He put on a playlist on the way there, one he had made containing music from your favorite bands. He kept constantly checking himself in the mirror to the point where he realized he would hit something if he didn’t stop. He was an absolute wreck of nerves.

He pulled into the apartment parking lot and got out of his car. He walked into the building, took the elevator…

And there was your door. He stepped toward it and hesitantly knocked three times. The wait was agonizing. He stood outside the door for a minute before you opened it.

“Sorry!” you said. “I was in the middle of getting the lighting set up. Come in!”

“No worries.” He followed you inside. Your apartment was immaculately clean, with enough decorations to add character without being overwhelming. He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it took a lot to keep himself calm the second he stepped through the door. The whole place smelled like you, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He looked at the setup, and it was honestly impressive. You had a professional-level camera setup, multiple lights, and cameras at various angles. “This is…wow,” he said. “You know your shit.”

“I’m a professional.” You winked at him as you adjusted the angle on one of the cameras. “Okay, so…a bit unconventional, but we’re going to do a test of sorts to make sure that the angles on the cameras are correct. Is that alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “As you said, you’re the professional. I’ll let you call the shots.” He had no idea what a “test” would entail, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stood off to the side, watching you as you worked. Your white tank top left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Great.” You adjusted one of the lights, lowering it slightly. “What do you think? Too bright in here?”

Come to think of it, it was a little blinding. “Maybe a bit softer,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea.” You nodded in agreement and dimmed the lights. “Better?”

“Better.” Wilbur took a few deep breaths. “We good to go?”

“Good to go.” You sat on the bed, examining the angles from your sitting point, clearly trying to decide if they were any good. “Yeah, definitely good to go.”

“Okay, then.” Wilbur stood there awkwardly. “What, um, what do I do?”

“Like I said, I want to test the angles before we start actually filming.” Wilbur watched as you pressed record on all the cameras. “I figure we just experiment with a few positions, see how the camera captures it. You can stay dressed if you want—-like I said, this is just a test.”

“Alright,” Wilbur murmured. He sat on the bed and nearly froze when you cupped his cheek. His face was so close to yours that he could barely breathe.

“You still okay with this?” you asked, searching him for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. This was terrifying, but the thought of walking away was even scarier. “Good.” Mere seconds later, you pressed your lips to his.

It took him a second to kiss back, but once he started, he never wanted to stop. Your lips were soft against his, just testing the waters at first. He had no idea where to put his hands, but he didn’t have to think about it for long, as you quickly pushed him onto his back. He made a small noise as you got on top of him and continued kissing him.

Wilbur didn’t consider himself a good kisser. It wasn’t like he had much experience. The kisses became rushed and sloppy, and just as he started to settle into the rhythm, you were getting off of him and checking the camera footage. He sat there, dazed, as you made your way around the edge of the bed, checking what the cameras picked up. You were explaining something about the process, something about lighting and shadow and…whatever else, Wilbur wasn’t listening. He could still taste you, still feel your lips against his.

He only snapped back to reality when you approached the side of the bed again. “You still okay with the pegging thing?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel how hard he was, the slight friction against his jeans, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. Who cared if this was just for work, just for content? He was about to have you, and having you in any capacity was better than not having you at all.

“Alright, then.” He watched as you opened a nearby dresser. “I have a couple things that you can choose from…” You pulled out a box and set it on the edge of the bed. He scooted closer as you opened it, his throat catching at the array of items. “These are all the toys I have that are compatible with the harness,” you explained. “I’d rather us not start filming until the main event, so to speak. We can get you all prepped before that.”

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Sounds good,” he choked out. He glanced over the collection of toys. Some of them were definitely too big for him, so he avoided them. His eyes finally landed on a pink dildo, just slightly bigger than the one he’d used in a recent clip. “That one, maybe?” He pointed.

“Good choice,” you said. “Just got this one.” You picked it out of the box and laid it on the bed. Wilbur’s eyes stayed on you as he watched you gather more stuff—-the strap-on harness, some lube, a buttplug. You went about it with the precision of a doctor gathering medical supplies. It was both hot and slightly unnerving.

“Do we have everything?” Wilbur asked. He shifted slightly, both to get comfortable and because it was difficult to sit still when he was so close to you.

“Yep! We’re set.” You sat back down on the bed close to him. He shuddered as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” Wilbur confirmed. He closed his eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, less sloppy this time, less desperate. He wanted to be able to contain himself, at least a little. He didn’t know what you’d think of him if he appeared too needy.

Your gentle hands pushed him backward, and he laid down on your soft mattress, eyes unfocused as he looked up at you. He pulled you in for another kiss, and whined as your tongue found his. The sound was pathetic in his mind, but it seemed to spur you on further. He gasped as you grinded against him. Even though it was only the tiniest bit of friction, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt. His hands wandered to your waist, sliding under your tank top. It was the boldest thing Wilbur had done so far, and he was more than pleased when you leaned further into his touch.

A moment later, your lips left his. He frowned for only a split second before realizing why. When he opened his eyes, your hands were brushing against his as you took off your tank top, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

He stared. He couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch all of it—-your stomach, your bare waist, your chest. It was almost too much. His cheeks went red as he heard you laugh softly. “Enjoying the view?” you teased.

“Oh! Um…sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forced his eyes upward, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. To his surprise, there was no sign of disgust or embarrassment on your face, only amusement. “You’re just gorgeous. Couldn’t help it.”

“Of course I am. How else would I have gotten this job?” You smirked down at him, and he managed to laugh despite his nerves. “In all seriousness,” you said, “thank you. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

It was one of the more tame comments he’d gotten in recent times, but it was by far the best. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice coming out as a squeak. Before he could apologize for that, you were kissing him again. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, and he helped you take it off without hesitation. His mind went blank as your hands wandered his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen and chest. He returned the favor, letting his hands wander a little. He held back, not squeezing or grasping, just lightly touching.

You slid out of your shorts, and Wilbur fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once he undid that, you got his zipper for him. You lifted yourself up for a moment so that Wilbur could remove his jeans. He shivered as his bare skin met the cool air of your room, then frowned as you got off of him. “We should get you ready,” you said. He nodded, finally removing his boxers.

He let them fall to the side of the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, but you didn’t seem to be judging him for it. In fact, you were focused instead on putting lube on your fingers, occasionally glancing at Wilbur. He shivered, parted his legs without you asking. He laid there for a moment, staring at your ceiling, trying to calm himself. He only had a moment before you were back, settled down beside him. “You ready?” he heard you ask. He could only nod in response.

He felt a finger press inside of him, and he sighed. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he let himself revel in the feeling. For once, he had someone else’s fingers, someone else’s touch. Of course, only one finger wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a perfect start. He moaned quietly as you moved your finger in and out, slowly, almost teasingly. He spread his legs further for you, and you scooted closer. At one point, your finger curled just enough that it brushed against his prostate, and the moan that he let out was downright desperate. He clasped his hand over his mouth, only for you to move it away. “Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured. He couldn’t even process your words before you brushed his prostate again, and he nearly moaned even louder.

“More?” he questioned. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” You slid in another finger and he whined. It was then that a thought occurred to him.

When he used his own fingers or his own toys, he never properly prepped himself. Not ever. It always hurt a little bit, since for him, he was always doing it just for the camera. It made him realize how much he neglected himself when it came to his job, never truly considering his own boundaries or what felt good to him. And yet, here you were, and it didn’t hurt with you at all. Even though this was just for work, just for content, you were being more considerate and gentle with him than he was with himself. He made a mental note to thank you later.

In the meantime, your fingers curled against his prostate, and he let himself moan and whine, gripping at the sheets and breathing heavily. He let his mind go empty, let himself fully relax, let himself be yours even if only for a moment in time. He felt it as you switched between brushing against his prostate and prepping his hole, gently stretching your fingers to spread him a little wider each time. “This feel okay?” you asked.

Wilbur nodded, unable to speak properly. You continued your movements, and Wilbur continued his moans. Your fingers were gone all too soon. Wilbur gasped a few times and forced his hazy vision to focus. “All good?” he asked, a little concerned. He watched as you wiped your hand off with a wet wipe before tossing the wipe in a bedside trash can.

“All good,” you replied. “You feeling ready? I grabbed a plug just in case you wanted to use that for more prep, but if you’re feeling good, I say we go for it.”

“I’m good to just go for it,” Wilbur said. To his surprise, his voice was a lot more steady than it had been. Something about your presence was calming, even in a situation like this that Wilbur had no experience with. He watched as you got the harness ready and strapped it on. Okay, maybe the dildo was a little bigger than he’d originally thought, but he would be fine. He hoped. “Thank you for, um, helping me get ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I help? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said. You finished putting on the harness before coating the strap in more lube than was probably necessary, just for good measure. “The nice thing about not working for some big porn company is that we get to do things in our own time. We’re not rushing to fit some director’s schedule.”

Wilbur nodded. “Right.” He’d heard varying things about being in professional pornos from various people in the industry. Experiences ranged from incredibly negative to incredibly positive, depending on the company, the director and any number of other factors. Wilbur was grateful to be making enough money on his own to make this venture worth his while. It was nice not having to risk mistreatment. “Still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched as you pressed “record” on each of the cameras. You turned back to him, your expression focused, methodical. “Ready?”

Wilbur nodded. “Ready. Um…safeword?” He definitely didn’t plan on using it, but it was always better to be safe.

“Is the stoplight system good with you?” Wilbur nodded. He’d never used it, but he knew what it was. “Perfect,” you replied. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” You smirked, and Wilbur grinned back. All the nerves were gone, replaced with excitement and focus. The cameras were rolling. Time to put on a show.

Wilbur wiggled his hips slightly, getting comfortable as well as a bit closer to you. He glanced at one of the cameras and shifted a little so that it would catch his facial expressions better. His eyes quickly went back to you. He felt your hands on his thighs. “You gonna be good for me?” you asked, your voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He figured it was just for the cameras.

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said, slightly exaggerating the tremble in his voice. From the look in your eyes, you approved. “I-I’ll be good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Your hands ran up and down his thighs, causing him to tremble and shiver. “Then be a good boy, and tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” he said. He realized then that he was being too quiet for the cameras to pick up, but thankfully, you saved the scene.

“A little louder, sweetheart. I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me,” Wilbur said, a little louder. “Please.” Despite the fact that it was just an act, he knew that the way you called him sweetheart would be playing on repeat in his head for weeks to come, if not months. His obsession was certainly deep enough for that.

“Good boy.” He felt the tip of the strap press into him, and he gasped. “Aw, already too much?” You asked teasingly.

He shook his head frantically. “No. Not—-not enough. Need more. Please…” He tried to scoot closer to you, to get more, but you shook your head.

“You only get what I give you. Understood?” He nodded. “Good boy.” You continued pressing the strap into him, painfully slow, giving him a chance to adjust to the size of it.

He whined, trying not to arch his back or move too much. Instead, his hands gripped at the sheets. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, right in the view of the camera to show off his face contorted with pleasure. His viewers always liked that; he figured that yours might as well. “Fuck,” he gasped out. “You’re so…so big…”

“Too much for you? Or are you gonna be good and take it?” You pushed the rest of the way in, and despite feeling fuller than he’d ever felt, not an ounce of pain came with it. Wilbur was grateful for that.

“I can be good,” Wilbur promised. “I can take it. I swear I can be good and take it.” He whined as you shifted your hips a little, and his hands went to grasp at your back. “Please. Please start moving. I need—-I need you.” Not even Wilbur could tell at this point where the genuinity ended and the act began.

You grinned. “You’ve been good so far. I feel like you’ve earned a reward.” You started shifting your hips, slow but deep thrusts that had him reeling. You weren’t quite getting his prostate, and he suspected that it was on purpose, you wanting to draw this out longer for the cameras.

Wilbur tilted his head back slightly. His eyes fell half-closed, and he peeked out at you from beneath his lashes. He let his lips remain parted. He suppressed his moans, opting instead for gasps and grunts. It would make better content, he figured, if he could start small and build up to it. It was taking a lot of effort to hold back.

“More?” he asked meekly, trying to make his voice loud enough for the cameras, yet quiet enough to keep up the submissive appearance. Although, he supposed it was more than an appearance. With some time, practice and confidence, maybe he’d be able to play a different role. For now, this is what it was. His body trembled slightly with the nerves and the sensations.

“Hm? What was that?” Your movements slowed down a little, much to Wilbur’s dismay. “Did you just ask something of me without saying please?” You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. “You remember when I told you that you only get what I give you, right?”

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sighed as you ruffled his hair, his brown eyes wide and gazing up at you full of desperation. “I promise.”

“Then say please,” you replied. “You can say please, can’t you, baby?”

Wilbur nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “C-can I please have more?” he asks.

“More what?” you asked innocently. Your hips continued rocking back and forth, so languidly that it was frustrating. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“I-I want it harder,” Wilbur replied. “F-faster. Please? Please, I need it.” With every passing moment, Wilbur became less and less aware of the cameras picking up his every move. If he focused hard enough, he could pretend that this wasn’t all an act. It was a dangerous game, pretending that way, but as time passed, he cared less and less.

“I guess I can give you what you want,” you said nonchalantly. “If you promise to be good.” Your movements picked up speed, hips thrusting slightly faster but just as shallowly. You weren’t thrusting all the way to the hilt, but Wilbur did his best to be patient despite wanting it desperately.

“I promise,” he panted out. “Please. I’ll be good.”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Wilbur felt a shiver go down his spine, and his shivers immediately turned to gasps as your thrusts got harder, faster, more forceful. He tried to tilt his hips a little, make you brush against his prostate, but you refused to comply, still avoiding the spot entirely. He let out a whine, high-pitched and needy. It was almost embarrassing, but based on the way you only smirked wider and picked up the pace, it was clear that you weren’t about to judge him for it.

Wilbur let himself get a little louder. He was tempted to cup your face, to run his fingers gently along your sides. He almost did before remembering that this wasn’t real. You didn’t love him. This was just sex. His second time ever, with someone he’d been crushing on obsessively, and none of it was even real. Despite how good he felt physically, he started to feel like shit mentally. The thoughts combined with your movements caused him to tear up a little bit, much to his embarrassment. He felt his eyes burn a little, and he glanced away from your face, trying to hide it.

It was no use. You saw. “Color?” you asked softly, too quiet for the cameras to pick up properly. Your eyes held a somewhat concerned expression. Immediately, Wilbur felt bad for upsetting you.

“Green,” he replied easily. “I’m okay. Promise.” He even managed a small smile.

You nodded, the worry slowly melting from your face. He moaned as your movements picked up speed again, and then whined as you finally, finally, hit his prostate. His moans got increasingly loud as you continued hitting that spot with every thrust of your hips, burying yourself inside of him to the hilt of your strap. He looked down between his legs as best he could, watching you move in and out of him. He could only look for a moment before having to tilt his head back and whine once again.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “So desperate for my cock, huh?”

“Y-yes.” Wilbur gripped the sheets with one hand and your shoulder with the other. “Please, please, please don’t stop.” His voice came out sounding whiny and pathetic, wobbling with every word.

“You’re doing so good,” you replied. “Taking me so well.” Wilbur moaned once more as you gripped his hips, using the hold as leverage to help you thrust harder.

He could feel himself getting close. He noticed how much pre-cum he was leaking, small drops of it dripping down his cock. “S-so close,” he whined. His hand subconsciously went to his length, but you quickly pulled his hand away.

“Not without my permission,” you chided him. He gasped as you continued your movements.

“Please,” he said desperately. “Please, I need…fuck, I need you to touch me. Please.”

You grinned and wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly pumping him up and down. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan. After just a few movements of your hand, his hips were twitching. He let out a series of swears and pleas, his words nearly incoherent as he finished, cum coating your hand and his stomach. You murmured soft words of praise, but he could barely register them.

His vision was hazy as you stopped moving. He gasped for air, panting. He felt numb and overstimulated all at once. His hand that was gripping the sheets slowly loosened its grip, and he let his hand fall from your side. “Thank you,” he murmured. His throat felt scratchy and dry.

“You were such a good boy,” you said, running a hand down his hip to his thigh. You pulled out, and he gasped at the feeling. You leaned in close to him, your faces inches apart. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?” He nodded eagerly before you pulled away.

He watched as you turned off the cameras, and he finally let himself relax, laying down fully on the bed. His gaze went from you to the ceiling before he closed his eyes. He needed a break, a few moments to collect himself, to come back to reality. His eyes still burned, and he let a few tears escape down his cheeks. How could something so pleasurable also be so painful?

He laid there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t get over the thought that this wasn’t enough, that he needed more of you, and he needed it to be real. It was as if all his years of loneliness were catching up to him at once. Every night that he wished someone would hold him, every day that he’d spent pining after people who would never love him back…not to mention the constant self-loathing that came from the small amount of self awareness that he had, the awareness that he was a creep who nobody could ever love.

Wilbur heard you as you took off the harness before walking over to his side. “You alright?” you asked. Your voice was soft, concerned. “Was I too rough with you? Do you want some water, or maybe something to eat?”

Wilbur opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “Um…water would be good. And no, you weren’t too rough with me.” He wiped his tears off his cheeks and managed a smile. “You were a lot less rough with me than I am with myself, honestly.”

You grinned back at him. “Okay, I’ll get you some water. If you want to clean yourself up, the bathroom is to the right of the entrance to my room. There are washcloths in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thanks,” he said. Some warm water to help wipe the sweat off him sounded almost magical. “I’ll go do that.” He slowly got off the bed, feeling a little shaky. Your kindness and the sweet sound of your voice had taken away some of his pain, but the loneliness lingered in his mind like an ever-present itch that he couldn’t reach the source of.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you called after him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

He used the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and was about to head back to your room when something caught his eye. You had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, and on top of the pile of laundry, nearly blended in with the surrounding fabric, was a pair of black underwear.

He immediately beat himself up for even thinking about taking it…but god, it was tempting. He would have something of you always, something you’d touched. More than just touched. He could keep it in his room, with his things, a little souvenir.

The only other souvenir he’d ever kept was from the girl he was obsessed with in high school. She had once torn out a page of notes and dropped them in the trash can, and he had fished it out and kept it. Of course, he’d thrown it out after she’d called him out for being a creep.

Never had he had something like this. But he quickly realized that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it. He was naked, so it wasn’t like there was a pocket to hide it in.

He pushed away the disappointment and left the bathroom. It was better this way, better that he not have the opportunity to do what he wanted. Despite knowing that it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel upset by it.

He re-entered your room, where you were sitting on the bed. You’d changed out the duvet, and there was a glass of water on the nightstand for him. You were dressed again in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he felt more exposed than ever. You turned when you heard him enter, and immediately, he was given a smile. “Feeling better?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled back. “Much better, thanks.” He glanced around and saw his clothing on the floor. “I’m just gonna…”

Your eyes flitted to the pile of his clothes. “Right. Good idea.” You then glanced at the dresser in the corner of your room. “Hold on, I have something you can wear instead of that uncomfortable button-up you were wearing.”

Wilbur was about to protest and say that the button-up was fine (despite the fact that it was cheap and a little itchy in reality), but he quickly shut his mouth and worked on getting his jeans and boxers on. If you had something for him to wear, something that was yours, that would be a dream come true. He watched you as you shuffled through a drawer.

“Here it is,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. He saw as you picked up a t-shirt, one that was definitely too big for you. “I have this extra shirt. I accidentally ordered a few sizes too big, so you can have it if you want.” You tossed it over to Wilbur, and he caught it.

It was a band t-shirt. Wilbur recognized the band as one of your favorites. “Are you sure?” he asked. The material was soft in his hands, and Wilbur swore that it smelled like you.

“Yeah, I’m never going to wear it. It’s yours.”

Wilbur held it like it was precious. He examined it before sliding it on. It fit him well, not too loose but not too tight. He looked over at you and immediately noticed that you were looking right back at him. “It fits really well,” Wilbur said. “Thank you. This is much better than my other shirt.”

“No kidding,” you replied. “That thing felt like it was awful to wear.” You paused. “Plus, you look good in it.”

Wilbur could hardly believe it. You had complimented his appearance twice. In one day. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I, um, appreciate it.” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and sat down in order to steady himself. He took a sip, immediately feeling refreshed. He hadn’t realized how dry his throat felt.

“Anytime.” You sat beside him on the bed. “Can I…ask you something serious?”

Wilbur put down the glass and turned his full attention to you. He saw the slight concern in your expression, and his small smile quickly faded. “Sure. What’s up?”

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. “Are you okay? I know that you said you were alright, but you seem a little shaken up still. I’m just a bit worried.”

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. On the one hand, he could be honest. At least, a little bit honest. You didn’t need to know the full truth. On the other hand, he could insist that he was fine. He worked through the options in his mind, and settled on a half-truth.

“I, uh, have never been pegged before,” he said. “This was my first time. I think I just got a little overwhelmed is all.” He paused, and when he saw your expression grow more concerned, quickly added, “But I’m fine! Really, you were great. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was a good first time. A great first time.” He could feel his cheeks get slightly hot, but he did his best to stay relaxed.

You looked surprised, your eyes slightly wide. “You…you got pegged for the first time, just now, on camera?” You shook your head, a barely noticeable movement. “That’s…brave. I’ve never done something for the first time on camera.”

“Yeah…yeah, I probably should’ve prepared beforehand,” Wilbur said. “But I just figured…it’s not like I’ve never done anything anal on my own. I figured it would be fine, and it was.”

“But you looked upset,” you said.

“Just overwhelmed,” Wilbur replied. “I promise it’s okay.” The last thing he wanted to do was deter you by making you feel bad. Besides, it really wasn’t your fault.

“Wilbur…” You looked away, pausing as if considering what to say. “Allison showed me a short clip the other day of that video you two filmed, and…and I don’t know if it was just an act, but I got the feeling that you were very new to what you were doing.” You looked back at him, and he felt the intense desire to disappear, to change the subject, because how could he admit how little experience he had without being intensely embarrassed? “Was that…did you ever have sex before that?”

Once again, Wilbur had the choice between honesty or a lie. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he wanted to try for more with you—more than just friendship, and definitely more than business partners. The terrifying thing was this: if he wanted that, truly wanted that, then he would have to be honest with you at some point.

“...No,” Wilbur said, barely audible. He avoided eye contact. “I was, um, too nervous to tell her that it was my first time. I wanted to do a collab, so I just didn’t say anything.” He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “I…maybe I was wrong to do that. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to wait around for things to happen for real, because I need the money now, not later, and…and it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, so…” He shrugged, hoping that the explanation was enough.

“And…and was it good?” you asked. “Like, was it a good first time for you? Did you enjoy it?”

Wilbur thought back to it. Allison was nice, sure. She was amenable, very understanding when it came to the fact that Wilbur was new in the industry. And yeah, Wilbur had finished that first time with her, but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t say it was enjoyable. It wasn’t enjoyable, being with somebody he had no connection with. It wasn’t enjoyable knowing that this incredibly vulnerable moment of his life was being livestreamed in real time, and it definitely wasn’t enjoyable that his first time was done for profit rather than for the experience, for the fun.

“I mean, does anyone enjoy their first times?” Wilbur managed to dodge the question, but his eyes still didn’t meet yours.

“Yeah! Well…I don’t know. They’re generally not good in the sense of being physically pleasurable, but they don’t have to be awful,” you said. “I just…I can’t imagine doing that in front of a camera, streamed live like that. And it sounds to me like you did it because you didn’t feel like you had any other choice.”

Wilbur finally looked up at you, scared of a reprimand, scared of your judgment. But all he saw in your expression was worry and kindness. “I…I’ve just never really had the opportunity,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been in a proper relationship. I kissed a girl, like, once in high school, but that was it. And then not again until Allison. I just wanted to get it over with, to feel…I don’t know. Normal, I guess. Desirable. Like…like someone wanted me.”

The second the words came out, Wilbur was mortified. He’d never told anyone any of this, and the fact that he’d told you of all people, the second time he’d ever spoken to you in person, made him wish he could turn back time and erase this entire conversation.

He felt you gently take his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said, “that things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked.”

Wilbur looked down at his hand, gently wrapped in yours, and he gave it a small squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t awful.”

“Still,” you said. “It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He watched as you let go of his hand, hiding his disappointment. “Anyway, um…I’m sorry to unload all that on you,” he said, his self awareness returning to him.

“It’s fine, Wil. We’re friends, and I wouldn't have said what I said if I wasn’t prepared for a response,” you said. “Really, it’s okay.”

He could hear the softness in your voice, the hint of concern. It nearly made him cry again, just knowing that somebody cared about him at all. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I really appreciate it.” The words felt so tame in comparison to what he wanted to say, but all the words he could think of seemed too much. He couldn’t believe that you’d referred to him as a friend, that you wanted to continue associating with him. It seemed too good to be true.

One thing was certain: it would take a lot of willpower to make this obsession go away, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he had it in him to let you go.

To Wilbur’s absolute delight, his time with you didn’t end there. After filming, he stayed for dinner. He ate pizza with you on your couch, watching a cheesy 80s movie and making fun of the special effects. Admittedly, he watched you far more than he watched the film, and he felt shivers every time you looked his way.

Over the course of the next week, he messaged you every day. Sometimes, it was because he messaged first, and other times, you were the one to reach out. He forced himself to exercise some restraint, to not be too eager. You made it difficult. Many of the texts were about the video, you giving Wilbur updates on the editing progress. At the end of the week, it went live. Wilbur was notified by your message:

Done! Let’s see how this goes

Wilbur grinned, swallowing back all the anxiety that he felt. What if it was bad? What if people didn’t like it? What if his inexperience showed on camera?

He shoved it all down and sent a reply.

Sweet

After a moment, he was struck both by how boring his last message was and how great of an opportunity this presented him with.

Want to celebrate tonight? Drinks on me?

He waited anxiously for a reply. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed with no response, until finally, your name appeared on his screen.

How about that bar a block from my place? You know the one?

Wilbur did, in fact, know the one. He’d passed it on the drive to your apartment.

I know it. Send the address and I’ll be there

Eight?

He smiled.

Eight sounds perfect :)

Once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He left early to make sure that he was there in time and that you wouldn’t be stuck waiting for him. The cab ride to the bar felt like it took a million years, and when he got there, you were sitting at the bar waiting for him.

The bar was packed. There was music blasting over the speakers, some pop song that Wilbur couldn’t place, though he’d heard it over the radio a million times. He sat beside you at the bar. “Hey!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

You greeted him with equal enthusiasm. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he said, grinning. He could already feel his cheeks get warm, although whether it was from the crowded bar or his proximity to you, he couldn’t tell. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Only about five minutes,” you replied. “But I got here early. Still waiting for the bartender.”

“Perfect.” Wilbur glanced at his surroundings. The scene reminded him of when he’d first met you. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a month. “Is the video doing well?” It was too early to draw many conclusions, of course, but he was curious.

“Holy shit, you have no idea,” you said, grinning. “People love the video. Already, I’m getting messages asking for more of it.” You seemed proud of yourself, and Wilbur couldn’t blame you. You’d done most of the work, after all.

He could feel his heart pounding. People loved it, which meant that you would probably want to do it again. More time spent with you, more excuses to see you…it all sounded perfect. “So when is part two?” Wilbur asks. “If people love it, I mean…we should probably get to filming more material, right?”

Your smile faltered, and his heart immediately sank. Of course. Of course it was all too good to be true, too perfect to be real. He should have known better. When you finally spoke, Wilbur was already bracing himself for rejection. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said. Before Wilbur could say anything, you continued. “Not because I don’t like you, okay? I…I won’t lie, it was fun. I’m just…”

“You can be honest,” Wilbur said, so quietly that he could barely be heard over the sounds of chatter and music. “If you don’t like me and don’t want to do it again, that’s okay. I get it.” He knew that he sounded pathetic and self-deprecating, but he had no clue what else to say.

“Wil, I just said that it wasn’t because I don’t like you,” you said. “Please take my word for it.” Wilbur nodded, slightly embarrassed. “The reason I don’t want to film more is because I’m a little worried about you.”

Oh. In a way, that was a relief to hear. It meant that you didn’t dislike him. On the other hand, he was terrified. Did you see him as pathetic? He wouldn’t blame you, but it was still a blow to his ego. “...Why?” he finally asked.

“I just…” You sighed. “You were literally crying, Wil. It was concerning. And I’m not saying that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t, I just think that…” You laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding insensitive.”

Wilbur froze. You were going to call him a creep, pathetic, a loser. He just knew it. “Just say it,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You have some things to sort out,” you said finally. “This type of job can ruin you if you don’t have the self-esteem to handle it. I’ve seen it before. People go into it feeling like shit about themselves, and then all the validation they get is purely sexual, and it fucks with them when they don’t get that validation anymore. It can be hard to separate your sense of self from your sex appeal, you know? But you have to.”

Wilbur took a deep breath. That was somehow worse than anything he’d anticipated you saying. He wasn’t a creep in your eyes, maybe, but he was broken. He had low self-esteem. You saw him as something to be pitied, and that was a hard pill to swallow. He kept opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He finally gave up. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You went quiet. It was only until the bartender showed up that you spoke again, ordering some drink that Wilbur couldn’t make out the name of due to being lost in his own thoughts. When you asked him what he wanted, he replied with water. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

After the bartender left, Wilbur felt your eyes on him. “Yeah?” he questioned. “What?”

“Did you actually listen to what I said?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did.”

“Wilbur…”

“I get it,” Wilbur said quickly. “I know that I’m…that I’ve based my whole life around this, and I know that it’s concerning, and I get it. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Take a break,” you suggested.

“I need the money.”

“Okay, well, go back to solo content for a bit. Because I think you need a moment to think things through.”

It didn’t sound so bad, actually, going back to doing things alone for a while. As long as he still had you in some capacity, maybe it would turn out okay. “Alright,” he said. “I could do that.”

“Good.” You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink before turning back to Wilbur. “I think it would be good for you.”

“Probably,” he admitted. He sipped his water, trying to enjoy your presence despite the war of emotions he had going on. It took him a moment for him to ask the question that he wanted to ask. “...Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “I just think you need some time off.”

He accepted the answer, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. “I’m sorry if this is…weird,” he said carefully. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date sometime. Like, a proper date, not…”

“An amateur porn filming session?”

“Right. That.” Wilbur felt his hands trembling. “Um…we could go out to dinner sometime. Wherever you want.” He felt dizzy, his breathing shallow and his heart pounding way too fast. “If you want to.”

You took an agonizingly slow sip of your drink. “I’d like that,” you said finally. You smiled at him, and it was like everything falling into place. Wilbur could breathe. You hadn’t rejected him.

And soon enough, he would have you, one way or another.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #simpbur #saccharine writes

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honeypawsart · 5 months

Text

"BUTTERFINGERS" AU, EARTH-0164

"Hi, my name is Dr. Johnny B. Ohnn. No, not the Ohnn you're thinking of. I'm from an alternate dimension (EARTH-0164). If Johnathon Ohnn didn’t become The Spot because of the supercollider explosion, but rather just accidentally dropped the dark matter capsule. Causing a slow spread of dark matter to corrupt his body over time. That's me."

Dr. Johnny B. Ohnn is an ex-Alchemax lead scientist who designed and began the creation of the Supercollider. On the day of the funding ceremony for his project, he accidentally dropped a canister of dark matter he extracted from a mini-collider test model, which he was to use as a demonstration for the presentation. The dark matter painfully spread to several portions of his body. However, instead of support after his accident, he was ridiculed by his respected friends and coworkers for being so clumsy and unprofessional. "Butterfingers" was a common yet silly thrown at him afterward. Johnny quit his job out of frustration, turning on the Alchemax company to make them pay for his deformities... using them to his advantage.

Johnny is generally very grumpy. This is due to his dark matter deformities being very uncomfortable. It feels like burning, itching, and chronically painful to deal with daily. The black spots feel void of sensation however, it's the white areas that hurt him the most. He uses cold water showers and drinks to help soothe the pain. The dark matter corruption on his body feels like jello, memory foam, or oobleck to the touch; it's solid at first but things can sink into the nothingness void.

The corruption is relatively slow, and by the time he's 41 years old, he's 80% corrupted. At this point in time, although he's still clumsy as ever, he's more confident in his ability to use his powers to his advantage. He adopts the nickname "Milky Way" then (based on another popular chocolate bar candy).

Johnny also has a pet shrimp named Shrimptin Beck. Later on in his isolation, he builds a functional Mysterio robot suit for Shrimptin to move around and help with his crimes. They sort of have a "Megamind & Minion" relationship haha

Johnny B. Ohnn is not a huge fan of his dimension's rendition of Spiderman. Her name is Lucky Charm, and is the exact polar opposite of Butterfingers. But you know what they say about "opposites attract" ;)

Earth-0164 Spider-Man, aka Lucky Charm! Works at the Trophy Bugle casino part-time! The rest of her time is spent saving their city using their very luck-driven superpowers! On their off days, Gwen Amber (lol yes that is my actual first and middle name, cringe is free) works as a regular employee at the Trophy Bugle Casino, owned and run by J. Jameson who HATES Lucky Charm for potentially ruining his business. Butterfingers ended up hitting up a casino after his accident- he always loses and gets frustrated with the hosts and that’s how he and Lucky Charm meet the first time, but she INSISTS on trying to make him better outside of work so they sort of get close as they teach him ya know?? Meanwhile, he doesn’t even realize that out of all the hosts at the casino, the one he happens to bump into is the hero he should hate for being against his motivations.

✮ ✮ ✮ That's all I have for now in the Earth-0164 canon!! I hope you guys enjoy this sort of long, info-dumpy post! He also has an official Spotify Playlist! Fan art is 100% welcome of Butterfingers. I also don't mind if you draw yourself/oc with him. Just please realize some boundaries with him. I will not tolerate any sort of "proship" art of him with any underage characters, since he is an old man (36-41 years old). He's very special to me, so please be respectful about that!

He's also my OC, so please tag me in any posts of him as well! He has a tag on all socials as #butterfingersohnn as well! All fan art is uploaded to his toyhou.se page.

That's the end!! Thanks for reading :D

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peachesofteal · 7 months

Note

Hello peach hope you're doing well!!

I want to say that I love your writing, i grow too attached to it especially dead disco, you have no idea how it represents my deepest weaknesses and things in me that i never seen written in details that hit the right way, the way that darling is loved and wanted and even cherished by them yet she's so drown in her "what ifs" and worst case scenarios... i don't know if you do requests but my birthday is coming by, and well my birthday aren't the happiest days so every year i act like a workaholic in grieve, so i thought what of darling is like this and both her lovers notice how gloomy and on edge she gets when her birthday approach, how she may fake her birthday dates and never really talk about it when it's one week away...i think it'll hurt good, thanks again! 🩷🤎

⛈️

Hi love! Sorry this is a bit late, if your birthday has already passed, I hope it was okay for you. I usually feel like there’s a raincloud following me around on my own birthday, so I can relate to not enjoying it so much. I hope you like this! 🖤

18+ MDNI brief mention of spanking and praise kink, angst, comfort, emotional issues, Simon is in charge, darling is her own tag-warning / no au / dead disco canon - early relationship

It started with a lie.

A lie you had told months ago, on the patio, glass of wine in your hand. You had been enjoying the summer sun, curled up in your underwear on Johnny's lap, Simon's fingers working circles into the balls of your feet.

"My birthday just passed, actually." Johnny startled underneath you.

"What? How come ye never told us?"

"I don't know..." you swallowed, hard. "We had just started hanging out, I didn't want to make a big deal." The lie is incredible. So many half truths, twisted into something so false.

The reality was, your birthday wasn't for another few months. And you usually didn't make it a big deal, had stopped celebrating it years ago. Once everything started to feel hollow. Once you started to feel like maybe, your birthday really wasn't something to be happy about. Maybe, if you just pretended it didn't exist, it would sting less. Hurt less, when others did too.

"I wish we had known, darling." Simon interrupts your thoughts, and you shrug.

"Next year."

"Is everything alright?” Simon’s hand squeezes yours, drawing your attention from where you’re staring at a book, but not really reading. He can tell. He always can tell. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Your jaw tenses and relaxes with one breath. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” In reality, you were fine. Everything was fine. Johnny was in the kitchen, you were half sprawled across Simon with your paperback. You had a full belly and two doting, loving, warm partners, home, together, in the flat. What more could you want?

It’s hard to explain, the feeling of your impending birthday. The doom spiral that it begins in your heart, the sucker punch that it will deliver the morning of.

The guys don’t even know it’s your birthday, they think it’s not for however long ahead the made up date was.

You can’t decide if it’s worse, or better that you lied. Probably worse.

Will they remember? You never gave them a definite date. Will they push you on it?

You sneak a glance at Simon and realize he’s watching you, studying your micro expressions and picking them apart.

Definitely worse.

You feel awful when you think about how disappointed they’ll be if they find out, how Johnny’s face with twist with sadness, confusion.

You mentally cross your fingers, and hope it never comes up.

Your hopes are drastically dashed the next day, when you come home to a silent flat, Simon sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded.

“Hi?”

“How was your day?” He asks and you shrug.

“Fine.” You peer into the fridge, feigning interest to avoid whatever the fuck is happening at the kitchen table right now. “Where’s Johnny?”

“Out.” Out?

“Out where?”

“On an errand. Come here.” It’s a command, something you recognize now, and your mind goes on red alert, chest rattling with a shaky breath.

Your feet deliver you to him on auto pilot.

“You got something delivered today.” There’s a shiny piece of postcard barely peeking out from his palms, glinting in the kitchen light. “It’s from your dentist.”

“Oh.” You laugh, nervously, scratching your neck because you don’t know what else to do with your hands.

“They wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Since it’s on the fifteenth.”

Fuck.

Your brain splits in two. One half of you wants to double down and assure him it must be a mistake. The other half wants to say you’re sorry, burst into tears and crawl into his lap.

“Darling?”

“Yeah… I uh… it’s uh.” He raises an eyebrow and you trail off, eyes finding the floor, hot shame crawling up your spine to your cheeks.

“Why did you lie?” You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. No words, no lies, no rebuttals… just- a void. Nothing.

The walls feel like they’re ten feet closer to you, squeezing in on all sides, bearing down.

“Hey, hey.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you closer into his body while you suck in a hurried breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t tell him. You don’t want them to know.

“I can’t.” You whisper to your feet, and he strokes a thumb across your pulse point.

“You can’t?” He pushes, like you knew he would. It doesn’t take much for you to fold, and when he squeezes you wrist encouragingly, you break.

“I… don’t like my birthday. So, I lied. I said it was a while ago so you guys didn’t know.”

“Why do you not like it?” You shrug.

“I don’t know. It just always seems so, empty. It makes me sad. When you’re a kid, birthdays are special you know? And then as you get older they just get… worse. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate but I only ever feel alone. I feel like, I don’t know. Like it’s just sad. And not special.” Your lower lip trembles, but you swallow down the lump in your throat, unable to let yourself fall apart, unable to fall beneath the weight. “I can’t explain it but there’s always a pit in my stomach, the morning of, and I can never shake it. It’s not like my previous relationships even really went out of their way to do something, so I… I don’t know.” You cut yourself off from your ramble by biting the inside of your cheek, trying to ward off a tidal wave of emotion.

“I see.” He pauses, and then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “And you were worried you’d feel the same, with us?” You shrug again. “Did you think we’d disappoint you?”

“No!” You blurt. “No, I just- I didn’t want the expectation. I didn’t want-“

“To be let down.” You shake your head with a denial, but Simon only nods, face grave and serious. “You always feel alone on your birthday. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because-“

“Because you don’t trust this yet.”

“That’s not true.”

“You trust us, darling. I know that. Johnny knows that. But trauma is muscle memory. It takes more than a few months with a new relationship to heal the build up of the pain and experiences you’ve been carrying.”

You can feel yourself twisting on the hook of his words. It’s so hard… to believe. To know. To trust but… this. Him and Johnny- you know it’s real. You’re terrified it’s real. It gives you the sweetest dreams and the scariest nightmares.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“That’s alright, love. I’m not angry.” He watching you closely, cradling your jaw when your lip picks back up with it’s quivering. “But I think you need to feel better. I think you’ve been bottling this up for weeks now, haven’t you?” You suck in a deep breath, ragged and raw. You’re buzzing now, feeling too big for your skin, your clothes, your nerve endings rattling inside your body. “Should we sort it out?”

You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Yes, Simon.”

When Johnny waltzes through the front door an hour later with a cake and a dozen balloons, he’s half curious, half elated to see you over Simon’s knee with your pants around your ankles, wide palm smoothing the raw skin of your ass as he hums sweetly to you.

“Shhh, good girl. I know, I know. It’s alright. You did so good for me.” Simon calls over your sniffling. “Johnny, c’mere. I think our girl is ready for her first gift.”

#peaches asks #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #john mactavish #simon riley

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kentocidal · 7 months

Text

FILE NAME: SUMMER CAMP BLUES.TXT

USERS FOUND: stalker!yan!izuku midoriya x fem!afab!reader

WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! DO NOT OPEN! noncon, dubcon, piv, fingering (f!receiving), blood, violence, stalking, yandere, biting and drawing blood, ask to tag

NOTES ABOUT THE VIRUS: you could’ve sworn you saw eyes in the woods. deep pits of blackness and a lust you couldn’t fathom… until it was right in front of you, that is.

INTERNAL MESSAGE: heed the tags. i’m being so serious. and please, ask me to tag anything that i may have missed. visit the masterlist here!

NEW NOTIFICATIONS! @kaedescara @yaekiss @pvbbyb0y @voidshoutsback @4izawas (want to be added? send me an ask off anon!)

you took a step back and away from the boy in front of you. he was… was he crying? this didn’t make any sense. he looked so meek, so… scared, almost.

“what do you mean, no?” he sniffled, barely holding it together as he peered at you with emerald eyes that glinted in the moonlight. “you said you liked me, that you really loved being my friend… i thought we would be together forever.”green curls fell into his face as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. he really looked younger than you, even though he was a year your senior. you winced at the sight, looking around to see if any of your friends were there to save you. no one came.

“i’m sorry, izuku. i just don’t like you like that. i hope you can forgive me.”

he didn’t reply, only sniffling a little harder, so you got to your feet from the picnic blanket beneath you. “i’m just going to go back to my cabin. we can pretend this didn’t happen in the morning, okay?”

you were met with silence from the boy as his image started to waver in front of you. you turned, seeing the lights of your cabin in the distance through the trees, and you took two steps through the grass before a vice grip was suddenly attached to your wrist.

you were yanked back down to the floor, and izuku was over you, tear-stained face close to yours, a sick look in his eyes. “don’t leave me. you can’t fucking leave me-”

you shot up straight in your bed, almost smacking your head on the rafters thanks to being on the top bunk. you looked around, feeling like the grip of that kid was still on you. you took a few deep breaths and flopped right back down onto your pillow. just that dream again, you muttered inwardly, closing your eyes again in the morning light of the dawn peeking through the messy blinds of the staff cabin you shared with your friend.

every summer since that day, you’d had dreams of that teen from your past. you hadn’t seen or heard from him since that day, and frankly, a majority of it wasn’t even what had happened. izuku midoriya was the shy kid at camp, and you had befriended him to be nice. you really had ended up enjoying his company, however, until he turned around and asked you out. you had said no, and he accepted that and walked away, never to be seen again. your friends at the time assumed he had simply begged his mom to come pick him up, too embarrassed to face you, but you didn’t know for sure.

it had been a long, long time since that day. you were a kid, barely a teenager, and yet the memory kept coming back as if it was a horrible trauma you had faced. you rubbed the heels of your palms into your eyes and considered trying to go back to sleep, but you instead were met with the blaring of your friend’s alarm from the bunk below. it was time to get up and get ready for work.

you had ended up with the seasonal gig as soon as you turned eighteen, graduating from summer camp goer to summer camp counselor. you enjoyed giving kids of the younger generations the experiences that you had gotten growing up, whether it be making boats out of different materials to float out onto the lake, friendship bracelets, or even just telling ghost stories by the fire. the camp had become your passion, and you had figured that dealing with nightmares every summer was worth it to see the kids be happy year after year.

you rolled your way out of bed and clambered lazily down the ladder, smacking your friend in the face with a pillow to get her ass up and moving. it was going to be another long day of hiking followed by a bonfire, and you were in charge of both.

you spent the early morning hours getting yourself ready, taking full advantage of the private staff bathrooms to shower in peace (without shower shoes! because your friends were clean!) and attempted, yet again, to make sense of your nightmare.

ever since you returned to the camp as a counselor, you felt watched. you felt as though someone was always just beyond the tree line, just out of eyesight. you had almost started convincing yourself you were crazy, what with how your friends made fun of you for feeling that way. they consistently reminded you that you were always safe within the fencing of the summer camp, with cameras and people everywhere, and you had half a mind to believe them.

sometimes, though, you convinced yourself that you could see someone in the woods. a mna, large and wide, a mop of hair over his face, as though he had been living in the wilderness for years. you saw him late at night or early in the morning, far off in the distance. if you caught him, he would disappear just as quickly as he arrived.

you were starting to believe it when your friends told you you were crazy.

a bump against the bathroom window roused you from your introspection, and you turned your head towards it. upon seeing nothing, you simply assumed that it was a bird dropping something against the window pane.

you shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. nothing to be afraid of.

—

you smiled widely as you led your group of young teens up the side of the mountain, walking stick in hand, heavy pack adding to your load as you trekked through the rocky terrain. you heard some kids chit chatting with each other, others whining about having to do physical movement while on a summer retreat. you just laughed at their antics, shaking your head and shouting that you were almost at the top.

you took a look around to locate the next white marker on a tree up ahead. thank the gods for the people that had first mapped the trail and made your life so much easier. you tossed a look over your shoulder to remind the kids to grab onto the sturdy looking trees you were grabbing to help them tug themselves up over higher rocks, and they listened to you.

you got your group to the top first with no cuts or bruises. it was almost like a miracle.

two by two your campers stepped up into the clearing, ooh’s and ahh’s being shared amongst them as they took in the beautiful view of nature.

you allowed yourself a moment of reprieve, knowing your kids weren’t stupid and wouldn’t get closer to the ledge. you hummed a tune as you took your backpack off and dropped it near the very edge, taking a seat at the rock cliff and swinging your legs over the edge. kicking them back and forth, you fumbled in your pack for one of your large water jugs, unscrewing it and taking a few long sips.

you felt serene, up there on that ledge. you kept an ear out for your kids, but you allowed them to explore the beautiful clearing for a minute or two as you cooled down from your workout. you even allowed yourself to pour a little of the water over the back of your neck. sighing as the cool liquid soaked into your shirt and cooled you off immediately.

it was then that you saw it. the slightest of flashes, something that you shouldn’t have been able to see with your sunglasses on.

your brows furrowed. you were high up on a mountain in the middle of the woods, and you know you saw something flash.

you lifted your sunglasses up to perch them on your head as you looked out towards that general direction, and that’s when you saw it again. a flash, followed by movement in the trees.

a… a camera? maybe? but there shouldn’t be anyone in the woods.

“miss yn! miss yn! come here! we found a cool bug!”

“i’m coming!” you shouted back to your camper who was begging for your attention, slowly rising to your feet as you continued to stare out into the woods, directly at where the flash came from.

you packed your bag and hurried from the ledge. maybe you needed to take some melatonin to really get a good night’s sleep tonight. you were seeing things,

—

the bonfire was a success. only two of the younger girls got marshmallow in their hair! that much was considered an absolute win.

you and your other counselors got your respective cabins to bed a little later that night, having allowed them to stay up by the fire until the temperature really started to dip. you and your friend were on the hook for putting the blaze out, as any good camp counselors should when practicing fire safety in the middle of the woods.

you, however, had come prepared with a hoodie over your tshirt and shorts. your friend, not so much. you sighed as you watched her shaking hands fumble with another water bottle, and you walked over to take it from her and shoo her off. “i can put it out. it’s small now,” “but we’re not supposed to leave each other alone,” she whined right back to you, making you actually laugh.

“you know i can handle myself in the dark, babes. i’ll be fine. go, before you give yourself hypothermia.” “i think i should stay-” “go. i got this.” you chuckled and turned her by her shoulders, pushing her in the direction of the private staff bathrooms to go take a hot shower and warm back up.

she begrudgingly left you alone with the final tasks of putting out the fire, making sure the camp was clean, and then finally going off to bed. you used the rest of the water bottles on hand to put out the burning embers, kicking them with your beat up sneaker to make sure they would stop smoking. you wiped your hands on the front of your sweatshirt, and turned away from the fire to sit on one of the logs that was used as a bench to look up at the night sky.

you let out a sigh. it was pleasantly dark, the moon full overhead, stars glittering among the black ink of the night. these nights were what you loved as a kid coming to camp. you could never see the stars from home, but out here, they shone down on you almost as brightly as the sun.

you remembered izuku, from back then, how those wet green eyes glittered in the same light. you worried for him. you hoped he was okay.

a tree branch snapped off to your left, towards the woods where the camp ended and the tree line began.

you sat up straight before fumbling around in your hoodie pocket for your flashlight, getting to your feet. if it was a deer or a small critter, it would be better to shoo it off than have a young camper try to interact with it without knowing.

you took slow, methodical steps towards the tree line, listening for any other sounds from the woods other than the crunching of leaves and gravel under your own feet. you held your breath as you shined your flashlight through the leaves.

“hello?” you called into the trees, taking a few more steps forward, past the tree line and into the gaping maw of the woods. “if you’re a deer or a fox or something, just get away.”

you crunched the twigs and leaves a little harder under your feet to further scare the animal away, and then stood still. there was nothing, not even the sound of the breeze in the treetops could be heard. it was as if a blanket fell over the world and trapped you in it.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you had even been holding. the critter must have scampered away. you had barely even needed to walk into the woods for it to get scared off.

you turned and saw the light of your cabin between the trees and the leaves, but only for a split second before there was suddenly someone there.

you barely realized what your body was doing, but you thanked a god you weren’t sure you even believed in that your fight or flight kicked in. you were running as hard as your legs could pump, deeper into the forest which was frankly the wrong way but you had no choice. it felt like your ears were ringing as you felt bushes and bramble and twigs kick up around your legs and claw at your clothes.

you heard it – the looming figure, the stranger, the mystery man – you heard him trampling towards you, heavy footfalls in the dark of night as your lungs ached for breath. he was after you and you felt like you were going to pass out from the sudden spike of fear and adrenaline.

you almost pissed yourself when you tried to hop a fallen tree only to have it grab you by the ankle and send you crashing to the forest floor, face first, your nose bashing in against the hard dirt as you screamed.

you struggled, legs flailing and body heaving as you tried to get up, but then there was a hand on the back of your neck, large and rough and gloved, pressing your face to the floor.

you were trapped.

you screamed again, and the thing’s – no, the man’s – hand tightened around the back of your neck, his fingertips pressing against your windpipe, and you froze underneath him.

“finally…” you heard a voice murmur, and it felt like fire ants had started crawling down your spinal cord.

you knew that voice. you recognized it from your nightmares.

you said nothing as the man’s heavy hand stayed on your neck, and he shifted to press a knee into your back, permanently disabling you from moving. “finally…” he repeated himself, and your blood went cold when you heard the smile in his muffled voice, “i’ve got you. i’ve finally got you. it’s been such a long time since i’ve seen your pretty face in person, yn.”

“let me go, izuku,” you murmured right back to him, trying to lift and turn your head from the forest floor, not wanting to aggravate him more, “just let me go. this is a mistake, i can’t-”

“you denied me,” he spoke over you, gripping your neck tighter and making you wheeze and your eyes roll back, “all those years ago. do you remember? remember how i held your hand and confessed to you? i was just a loser back then. i didn’t think you thought that of me, but i was wrong.”

you opened your mouth to reply, but he leaned more of his weight into the knee shoving you down into the ground, and instead you wheezed.

“you told me no. that you just wanted to be friends… girls who only want friends don’t go kissing other guys behind the cabins. they don’t do that. why did you do that to me? i loved you, it wasn’t fair.”

“izuku…” you wheezed out, and finally he seemed to let up, letting go of your neck and shifting off of your back to forcibly grip your shoulders and spin you so that your back was in the mud instead. it was at this moment that you tasted the familiar tang of blood; your nose had started bleeding from the impact.

you were finally met with the green eyes of your attacker, familiar and dark and crazed, barely visible in the bright moonlight and from underneath the dirty hockey mask he wore to make an attempt at concealing his identity. clearly, he knew that you recognized him, so he straightened where he was straddling your midsection to push the mask up onto his head.

he was older, and he was bigger. the scrawny kid you knew at camp as kids turned into a massive giant of a man, rippling muscle under a tattered t-shirt and faded ripped jeans that barely held together around his thighs. his freckles seemed more abundant, as did some scars on his face that you couldn’t explain.

he studied your bleeding face in the pale moonlight, and, ever the crier, teared up at your pain and at seeing you up close for the first time in years.

he reached a hand down to swipe at the blood dripping onto your lips with a gloved thumb. “why did you say no? why didn’t you love me back? why did you make me do this to you? you’re bleeding, i didn’t mean to make you trip…”

“how did you find me?” you jerked your head away from his grip, trying to get a hold on the situation you found yourself in. “i don’t understand, why are- what did-”

“it was easy to find you.” he muttered, shaking his head and gripping your chin to keep you still. “you kept coming back to camp. your pictures are all over the camp website. every year you’d come back for sleepaway, and then you kept coming back as a counselor. it was simple. you should have expected me, i loved this camp as a kid before you broke my heart.”

he was rambling, his fingers curling into the soft, stained apples of your cheeks as he held your face up towards the night sky to make sure you were listening to him.

your chest heaved. you felt like your body was caving in on itself. he had always been there, always in the shadows. those eyes, those camera flickers… you weren’t delusional. but you were too late with that realization.

“izuku,” you coughed a little, starting to really feel suffocated by the post nasal drip of your blood in your throat from the fall, “please, i’m sorry. let me go, please don’t-“

“i’m not gonna hurt you,” he cut you off, shaking his head once again as he let go of your chin to slide his bloodied hand down your front.

your blood ran cold. “izuku, no-“

“please,” he begged you, pathetically, shifting back off of your midsection and down lower, lower, straddling your upper thighs. his hands, dirty and bloody, hovered over your chest, ghosting down your form with a wet, lovesick smile on his face. “just once, please, i-… i just need to…”

you didn’t get a chance to protest, or even think about it, because izuku was making the decision for you.

he leaned down and mashed his lips to yours. you couldn’t breathe. your hands scrambled to shove at his shoulders, your lips squeezed shut, but his own dry, cracked ones worked you open. his thick, corded biceps didn’t budge from where they caged you in, one hand on either side of your head now.

you kicked and squirmed and izuku didn’t move. he kissed you and you didn’t kiss back. he laved his tongue over your bloodied lips, slurping up the tainted re liquid as if it were wine instead.

“you taste divine…” he purred against you, a hand moving along your side before starting to tug at your waistband.

you gave one last attempt at trying to struggle, at trying to punch at his face or shove him away, but he was massive, looming over you and grabbing your flailing hands in one of his own to pin them above your head.

“stop resisting, you’ve left me no choice!” he practically whined at you as he pinned you to the muddy floor, and you felt the involuntary reaction of your body heating up spread through your cheeks like wildfire. “i have to have you…” he murmured, licking his lips clean of your blood, and you felt your head start to swim.

“no, please…” you shook your head, the throbbing in your face from the fall finally registering, “please don’t, izuku…” “shh, you’ll like it. i can already tell.” he smiled at you, wet and soggy, before leaning back down to start kissing along your neck and jaw. his hand slid underneath your shirt, a warm, broad palm pressing into your side before sliding up to cup your breast. “no bra… amazing…” he muttered into your collarbone, toying with your nipple as you whimpered and squirmed underneath him.

you didn’t want this, you wanted to run – you had no choice but to allow him to sit up again and remove your pants and underwear in one rough go, yelping out when you heard the thin fabric of your panties tear in his grip despite your pants. he pushed your knees apart and groaned, staring at your glistening folds in the moonlight. “you’re so wet. see? i knew you loved me, depe down.”

you knew better than to argue with a brick wall.

you felt one hand ghost over your folds, making you twitch and jerk; his other hand moved to shove your shirt up to reveal your tits to the cold night air, making you shiver.

izuku was practically purring, sliding two fingers between your sopping folds as he groped your breast. “look at you. so much more pliant. i didn’t want to hurt you, see? i just wanted to show you how much i loved you, i promise.”

you opened your mouth to rebut, but all that poured out were a string of curses and whimpers as he pushed one thick digit into your twitching hole, the rough pad of his thumb drawing tight circles over your puffy clit.

you shouldn’t be feeling so good. you shouldn’t be whimpering in the dirt under him, squirming and digging your nails into the mud while you tasted your own blood on your lips. and yet, you were, keening under his touch as he pumped one, no, two fingers in and out of you, wet squelching starting to echo through the trees.

his lips were on your neck again, sucking bruise after bruise into your skin as he guided a third finger in, making you cry out from the stretch. he laughed against your ear, “enjoying yourself now? i could’ve given this to you so long ago, but you kept running. not anymore.”

a chill ran up your spine, but the fear ebbed away into pleasure as he found that spongy spot inside of your tight walls that had your eyes rolling back into your head and your arms flying to wrap around him.

he groaned, his teeth sinking into your neck as you started to crumble. you felt the coil in your stomach burn red hot, faster than you yourself could do, and your body jerked in his grasp as your high came crashing down onto you. you felt your fluids gush into the palm of his hand and splash onto the dirt floor underneath you, and you swore you could hear izuku moaning in tandem with you against your skin, as if he was getting just as much pleasure from it as you were.

he fingered you through your high before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean with a moan. you shook, eyes wide and teary, thinking he would be done – unwise of you, you came to realize, as he sat back on his heels and shoved his dirty jeans down just enough to let his heavy cock flop out, dripping with pre, so hefty it couldn’t stand on its own. you started to shake your head through the fog of your orgasm, heels digging into the dirt. “no, no, it won’t-”

“stop,” he growled, grabbing your ankle and yanking you back towards him, making you cry out in fear, “stay still. it’s gonna fit. you just need to relax, okay? can you relax?”

you were panicking again, shaking under him as he looped your twitching legs around his waist and tapped his cock against your wet pussy. you throbbed and shifted underneath him, whimpering at how the head of his cock bumped against your clit with each swipe. he was smiling again, lovesick and puppylike as he watched his cock get soaked in your juices.

“finally…” he hummed, revering the way the fear in your eyes turned to straight panic as the tip of his cock dipped into your hole, “finally i can fill you up.”

izuku sunk himself home, and you screamed. the sting was harsh, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as the feeling of being filled in just the right way.

izuku groaned and immediately flopped over you, sinking himself as deep as he could go, lifting your legs up onto the crooks of his arms, bending you in half as he nuzzled against your shoulder. “you feel just like i imagined, so tight… i know you’re not a virgin, but you feel like one.”

you bit down on your lip, feeling yourself involuntarily clench at his words. he gasped a little, and then you felt his smile against your skin. “i’ll move now, okay? you’re gonna feel so good.”

you barely had a breath in your lungs before he was drawing his hips back and slamming himself home. you screamed into the forest, unheard by the camp, as izuku ruthlessly fucked into you. jackrabbiting and needy, he fucked you like an animal in heat, and you were getting off on it.

the angle he had you contorted in was perfect, hitting the right spots and feeling the drag of his cockhead against your walls had your head spinning. you latched onto him, unable to find purchase in the forest floor, and he welcomed your embrace by caging you under him further.

his balls smacked heavily against your ass as he pounded you, your eyes rolling back hard into the sockets as you felt the coil in your stomach start to heat up. you were babbling, clawing at his back, digging your nails in and twitching so violently.

izuku was moaning into your shoulder, drooling against your skin, laving his tongue along your collar bone. “fuck, fuck, please, cum for me, cum on my cock, gonna fill you up so good, please-”

listening to his moans against your ear rattled your brain and make you see white. you cried out loudly into the night air, your body pulling taut as a bowstring before you let go, feeling yourself cum all over his cock, that creamy ring of white forming almost immediately.

you felt like you were floating, but only for mere seconds. you felt his cock jump in your sopping hole, and then you were being filled to the brim with his seed, and you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.

this time, you screamed in true pain.

he gnashed his teeth into your shoulder as he came inside you, breaking the skin and letting his mouth fill. you panted, feeling hazy and too warm, dizzy and flighty…

he lifted his head from your shoulder and swallowed the fresh blood, smiling as it dripped down his chin and landed on your lips. “that was… everything. let’s get you home.”

you felt your body be lifted soon enough, and you saw the lights of your cabin in the far distance flicker out.

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