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celestie0 · 3 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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scuddish · 2 years

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ok my actual new gifsets are queued to start later today so please enjoy a new character/film gifset every day <3 !!!

#tomorrow is just fav characters btw #not the biggest fan of the films themselves but the characters are chef's kiss mwah #i forgot how i queued bc some days are filled all day and others are specific to however many i made for that movie #managed to confuse myself #anyhoot I only have 2 movies left to gif and draft and queue before the entire project is done done I'M SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE #i just want to sit back and :D at people talking in the tags of the reblogs for the entire month #scuddish.txt #btw I'm on est us time but I'm an insomniac so later just means a normal time for everyone else lmao #the event queue either runs all day or starts at 12 pm !!!#and when i said tomorrow i mean...later today

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hanakoofthejungle · 2 months

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My most favourite Overlord Husk AU fanfictions

I am no expert in writing, just a regular fangirl whose brain is constantly occupied by HuskerDust. I like these fics purely based on the kicks I get out of reading reading them. HuskerDust fanfiction is my drug now :))))

All of this start commonly with Husk winning Angel's soul in a game against Valentino, the two eventually got involved romantically but ...

Blue Is Not Your Colour by Shienkha (competed)

It is rare to see Husk as deeply flawed, an addict to his poison (gambling) as much as Angel to sex. Both fell victims to their addiction, ultimately ruined their chance at happiness. In the end, Husk lost his soul to Alastor and Angel went back to Valentino. Husk realized only then that he loved Angel. The two finally reunited at the Hazbin Hotel, connecting the story to the canon.

“And a spade,” he whispered to himself as he headed out, slipping the ring to his chest pocket, “to symbolise how far I would have gone for you.”

As far as it would have taken to keep you happy.

Or, in the absence of it…

… as safe as one can be in Hell.

This is absolutely the best fic in my opinion.

2. Loved You Like Religion by cokedupdicksuckinghoe (completed)

This is as beautiful as the song after which the fic is titled.

Angel killed Valentino to save Husk. Husk was oblivious to his feeling until Angel seduced him with "Why Don't You Do Right". In the end, Husk prepared to throw everything away for Angel.

"He was devoted to Angel; he loved him like religion."

3. To A Player Everything Is A Game by Tat_Tat (completed)

A bundle of domestic bliss. This fic is my guilty pleasure. Whenever I came across a traumatic HuskerDust fic, I come back to this to save myself from the anxiety.

4. Call Your Bluff by @razzapplemagic

Angel relapsed and went back to Valentino after being 'rejected' by Husk. He later worked through his traumas, left Valentino on his own while befriending Vaggie during Extermination Day. As of the latest update, Angel came back to the casino and reconciled with Husk. The two began dating and Angel prepared to face Valentino once more.

5. Wicked Old Soul by BunnyBight

Husk put Angel in therapy with Charlie. Angel didn't appreciate Husk making decision for him and concealing his status as the Gambling Overlord. Angel was wooed by a charismatic lion who was hired by Vox to kidnap him. Husk came to the rescue. Angel and Husk, following their language roller coaster confession of love, signed a new contract which shared Husk's soul and all souls he owned with Angel. Angel became a new overlord with intriguing powers :)))

6. Someone You Can Bet On by Shigariope

Angel begged Husk to play a game with Valentino for his soul. Husk not only won Angel's soul, he also put a ring on his finger to safeguard his Overlord image. I look forward to see how their marriage of convenience progresses :)))

7. House of Cards by abookomaps

Valentino tortures Angel with angelic weapon. Husk proved Angel's worth by betting that Angel can make in one day what Valentino made in a month.

8. But you've got company by mamini2000 (completed)

Angel thought Husk was just an bartender then they fell in love.

9. Mine NOW Val by Rocher1893

Angel filled in for Husk's lounge singer. Husk devised a plan to help him get away from Valentino.

10. When the King Cat finds his Spider by Blahaj_Enjoyer

Husk demanded Angel's soul as collateral for his trade deal with Valentino. Valentino can film at Husk's casino, while he got Angel as new employee. It is precisely because Husk didn't technically own Angel's soul yet that I want to see how this story progresses.

11. Consequences by Bigredboi (completed)

To protect Angel, Husk killed Valentino and the Sin of Greed, becoming the new Sin.

12. First Breath by huskapologist

As of the latest update, Husk and Angel were plagued by nightmares and I by cliffhanger :))

13. Casino of love by @artwaterfall

A slow burn bliss following Angel's path to recovery from his pasts trauma and insecurity. If you are looking for Husk falling in love listening to Angel singing New side of me, this is the best description there is. If I didn't already have a significant other, I would have fallen in love with the spider myself just by reading that chapter, and I had the goosebump to prove it. This story is a treat that I look forward to every week.

14. I Can Only Blame Myself by InkPhoenix

Angle ran away from Valentino and collapsed before an extermination. He was saved by Husk and now had to deal with new disability and the possibility of being sent back to Valentino.

15. Sober to Death by BrainRotgoBrrrrr

Angel beat Husk at poker and he decided to buy him off Valentino. Alastor was eyeing Husk's soul.

16. Luck Be A Lady Tonight by Basic_Witch

Valentino used Angel to spy on Husk. Meanwhile, Husk taught Angel how to play cards and valued his business ideas.

17. The Gambler by @5carecr0w

Angel's appearance somehow brought luck to Husk's game with Alastor, saving him from losing his soul. Angel became his new lucky charm.

18. Him & His Libertine Principles by @thiccspices

Alastor enlisted Husk to make a bet against Valentino. Husk found Angel pathetic.

19. Cat’s Eye Casino by Lunatic_caramelle

Absolute bliss :)) As of the latest update, Husk was attacked by Val's men and injured. Angel took care of him while he healed and they grew closer.

20. Fates Gamble (two traumatized gay men rediscover love) by Chaosfrog

As of the latest update, the Vees had hidden cameras installed throughout the casino, giving Vox's control over machines and tables there. 'Whatever will befall my favourite couple?', I asked while waiting for updates every day :)))

21. High Stakes by dreamnplay (completed)

Husk wanted Angel to work the floor on a 10-hour shift per day. Angel thought he want him to f*ck customers for 10 hours a day. Read this and you will wonder when they will start communicate openly and honestly.

22. My Kingdom for The Soul of an Angel by meg_a_dork (completed)

Absolute domestic bliss with shopping, cooking, cuddling and everything. Angel proposed to Husk first :))) They got married and had cake 🍰

23. Ace of my Heart by Karmawillcollect (completed)

Angel beat Husk at poker and he bought him off Valentino. Guilty pleasure smut ensues :)))

24. My Atlantis by Satan_Has_A_Wife (completed)

Husk was bad at feeling, thinking Angel only loved him because he owned his soul and had been half-decent to him. Angel got Husk all hot and bothered seeing him with a gun. Cherri approved of Husk.

25. I Don’t Want The World But I’ll Take This City by highfemmeicequeen

Husk was bad at feeling and thought he knew what Angel wanted. Angel was angry, tired of being told who he was and what he wanted.

26. Love in Bonds by QueenofShadows1987

Husk and Angel dived head first into a relationship based on a 'standard' BDSM contract. Note that Husk is not the consent King we know and love here and Angel had no choice but to be his mate.

27. No Rest for the Wicked by @camelliea

It's been over 20 years since Angel was freed from Valentino yet the moth's shadow was still looming over his relationship with Husk. Husk made alliance with Alastor to destroy the Vees.

28. Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend by @purple-hyacynths

The two started of on hostile term. Angel was being a brat because of self-loathing.

29. House of Cards by Transparent_Existence (completed)

Angel and Husk are getting closer and one of Husk trusted employee can't have that.

30. High Rolling at the Grand Casino by Turntechgodliness (AmberzillaRex)

Angel became new lounge singer at Husk's casino.

31. Loaded Dice by Tat_Tat

Husk is a corrupted overlord.

32. Facing Down the King of Cards by LevySutcliffe (completed)

Husk won Angel in a gamble with Vox and Val for Alastor's soul. Yes, Alastor made a deal with Husk and temporarily gave his soul to him and is now staff at the casino. Angel becomes Husk's fashion designer and workshop of his own. Husk is looking for the boy he fell in love with in life. Little do they know Angel is that boy.

33. Double or Nothing by HoneycombSweetness

Husk died during the battle against the exorcists and went back to the past where he was still an Overlord.

34. Call me when you want, call me when you need by Spades (bumblingbees)

Husk won a night with Angel instead of his soul and continues buying his service for months. He eventually fell in love with Angel but the latter wasn't convinced an Overlord could ever love a wh*re.

35. Lucky Bastard by @poppyfieldart

Angel flirted with the sweet bartender at Lucky Bastard without knowing he was the Casino Overlord. Husk found Angel more beautiful than the paintings on the ceiling of his casino's bathroom.

36. King of Spades by kurenohikari

The story focuses on Husk's rise to power. He eventually accepted Arackniss' request for his aid in saving Angle in exchange for his soul and loyalty.

37. Rock Bottom Overlord by @cloudwatcher-1

Husk fell to rock bottom, losing all of his casino and was left with nothing but a dive bar. After winning Angel's soul, he was ready to make it up the top again.

The list is to be updated.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin husk #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x husk #hazbin hotel husk #overlord husk

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lovrsm · 7 months

Text

ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ

sum: in which your brother invites you to a party, and oh god, you're so glad you accepted.

word count: 2.4k

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: drinking, curse words & insinuation of cheating.

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ - ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ

"you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk"

Monaco was such a lovely place, when my brother had told me about it I thought he was exaggerating. I mean, it wouldn't be that weird if he had, he's always excited about everything, he's the kind of guy who makes you see as if the world is made of bright rainbow colors, and I believe him.

I arrived from the airport about 2 hours ago, I was on my way to the hotel where Lando was staying, he told me he got another room for me. How could I say no?

He called me yesterday at about 3pm

"No, I'm telling you, IT WILL BE THE PARTY OF THE YEAR!" he screamed over the phone, making me laugh.

"Lando, I just came from signing with my sponsors, they expect me to write more songs in a 4 months period, you know how complicated that's going to be?" I exhaled, taking off my heels, tossing them across the room as I lay down on the couch. I was exhausted.

"C'mon, you'll have plenty of things to write songs about, look, I can already hear it!" he started to hum a catchy tone, making the corners of my mouth go up. "Lando... Jake won't be able to be there, god, I don't even know if he'll want me to be there, you know?"

I could already see him in the doorway telling me where am I.

Sure, he was on canada filming, but what if he finds out?

"I'm not even letting you say no, I'm already booking tickets, get all you need, you can even shop here if you want, I just want my sister with me tomorrow night with me"

"You better go get me at the airport Lando Norris."

"I wont let you down peanut" He chuckled and hung up on me.

Well he kinda let me down, he couldn't come get me due to some last minute meeting he had. I don't really mind, I know having a busy life is exhausting.

I thanked the taxi driver giving his a generous tip, my bodyguard helped me get out my suitcases, I had a hoodie and black sunglasses, he had a casual outfit so we wouldn't stand out.

For being a top artist in the whole world, I did not like having that much security. But it was an obligation, not an option, I had to stick to what my manager and team asks me to do.

After a busy day of shopping and walking around the streets, I could barely feel my feet. I had gotten a beautiful short red dress. Perfect fit for the occasion. It was just 7p.m. and Lando had texted me he was on his way to my dorm.

The door opened to reveal my very festive brother in the other side "You're here!" "I'm here!" I screamed back jumping into his arms.

We catched up, he was telling me about how he checked the track, for the next season, since we were in December. Although I never really understood racing, when we were kids our parents would take us out to the karts, and I'd always crash while he was beating all of us who tried to play.

He focused on sports and I focused on music, since I was 12 years old I learned to play the guitar. My mom used to tell me that I was a genius at writing songs, I guess many people think the same.

Time passed by too fast, with him I felt like an hour were just 5 minutes.

After hating each other all our childhood, we became closer than ever after my career and his took off. I think it was because we were twins, we hated it when people said we acted the same, because physically we are not alike at all. I am so much prettier, obviously.

it was already 8 o'clock "I'm leaving, I should get ready, do you wanna come with me?"

"I'd stopped talking to you if you let me get there alone, I know none of these guys Lando."

"I'm sure you'll know somebody miss famous." He bumped my shoulder and left my room, entering to his which was next door.

I took my time getting ready. God, I love being a woman. I took a bath, fixed my hair, put on my make-up and finally there was the dress, hanging on the bathroom door. I think it is one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen in my life.

How did I manage to put on the mini dress correctly by myself? I don't even know, but I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. God if only someone could look at me.

Oh wait! There is someone, I grabbed my phone to click his name, my phone started to ring. I waited patiently, but he did not answer. So I called him once more, this time he did answer.

I heard loud music and singing in the back. "What do you need?" he asked, I could hear the irritation in his voice. "I wanted to hear from you, we haven't talked-"

"We talked last Monday, wasn't that enough? I'm busy." He interrupted me.

"Where are you?" I asked intrigued this time.

"Uhm... I'm in the bar with some friends"

"Oh and that's just more important than your girlfriend?" I raised my voice at him, I was now sitting the edge on the bed.

"Look, I don't want to fight, just call me later." He said, basically hanging the phone. "Jake..." I said before he could do so.

"What?" He sounded desperate. "Take care." I said.

"Ok" He hung. I felt disgusted, why? not idea, I just felt dirty, as if I was forcing him to talk to me. I took some deep breathes so I could calm my nerves down.

I don't even want to go out anymore.

I tried hard not to cry, I wasn't going to ruin my makeup over some small argument, I'm sure tomorrow we'll be alright, we always end up alright.

It felt as an eternity till I heard a knock on my door, I quickly grabbed my bag, looked in the mirror once more to fix my dark wavy hair, and rushed to the door. I opened it, in the side was Lando, his back on the wall while he was looking at his phone.

He turned it off and looked at me, I smiled "Ready to go Peanut?"

"Lets go"

We finally got to the club, electronic music was blasting off, people were already drunk, and boy they didn't even tried to hide it.

We had to basically run to the VIP area, I didn't said anything to my bodyguard about this, besides, he can use a break.

Lando was immediately greeted by everyone who was in the room. "LANDO!" A man screamed to him "Ayee, we're here!" He said hugging the man, and patting him in the back. "you're so late, you were the only ones missing!"

"we're here Pierre, I'd like to present to you all my sister!" He hugged me by the side and I waved with a smile on my face. It seemed that most of them recognized me, because some of them just stood there in shock "Hey everyone, ready to get wasted?" I laughed, that made them less tense and cheered, lifting their cups.

Lando gave a me a sweet kiss in my head, "see, you'll be fine, have some fun peanut!" I let go and we both went our own way.

I started to talk to a girl, her name is Kika, I learnt she was the girlfriend of a guy named Pierre Gasly. I've heard about him but no one ever told me how fun his girlfriend was!

"Girl, you should try this margarita, the most wholesome thing you'll have in your life!"

She was not kidding with that. In a few minutes, I had asked for... about 5 of them, or maybe just 13.

I had talked to everyone in the room by 10 pm, they were all so fun, and the energy was of another planet.

"Yeah, and then Max would make that grumpy face. I swear he looks like and old man!"

"very mature Lando, so mature." I bursted out laughing. "LECLERC HAS ARRIVED!" I heard someone scream in the entrance, and in seconds half of the group was there greeting the guy.

I decided I was going to take something else than a margarita. I walked up to the bartender, who definitely did not understood me. I don't know if I was speaking too softly or if I was just way too drunk to talk, but I decided to leave, I turned around and bumped into someone.

I was about to loose my balance till his arms were wrapped around my waist, I was able to stand straight. "are you alright?" he asked.

I looked into his eyes, green eyes "what?"was all I could manage. "Are you alright?" He asked again, I now noticed a thick accent, I bursted out laughing for that.

He looked so confused, he let go and chuckled with me. For a second it was as if the whole club was quiet. I looked again at him, and I immediately looked down at the floor. He grabbed my hand, the lights went out for a second and my world spun. My legs were about to give up.

His touch was... it was, god I can't even say it.

"I'm Charles, what's your name?"

I bit my lip, what went out of my mouth was definitely not what I wanted to say. "Do you always talk like that?" I asked a bit to seriously, I chuckled so that I wasn't that rude.

"Yeah, my first language isn't english."

"Huh." I said, I felt as if he had a goddamn magnetic field and it was pulling me towards him, I couldn't stand it.

I ran off to the other side of the room, leaving him standing alone next to the bar.

All night.

All night I couldn't stop thinking about him, his hand touching my hand in the darkened room...

and I made fun of the way he talked.

I'm never drinking again.

Yet there I was, in the bar once more, asking for whiskey. Mature, so mature.

I kept bouncing back and forth between the people there, once I saw Charles walking to my way, I would ran to the other side of the room.

I have a boyfriend for gods sake! I can't be thinking these unhealthy things about him.

But, I mean, can you blame me?

Look at him.

His first two buttons were unbottened which made him look so attractive. And you should see his dimples, he's so gorgeous it actually fucking hurts!

"So you're not going to talk to me?" I heard a voice behind my ear. His chest touching my back. I didn't move, but I did answer.

"Who said I wasn't going to?" I asked playfully, with a grin on my face, knowing he couldn’t see me.

He hummed in my ear, before he turned me to look him in the eye, he grabbed my neck, but he didn't kiss me. Instead, he brought his lips back to my ear.

"Then why do you keep running, huh?" His hot breath sent a shiver down my spine. I was dumbfolded by his actions, he took a step back to look at me.

I looked into his eyes, I was absolutely taking him in. I looked at his dimples because of the grin he had in his face. His eyebrows, his slightly sweaty hair, with pieces of it falling into his face.

I couldn't help myself, I noticed how he looked into my eyes, and then to my mouth.

What if..?

I asked to myself, I closed my eyes and got closer to him, waiting for a kiss. But he grabbed me by my hips pulling me back.

"You're far too drunk, ma chou" I heard and opened my eyes, he gave me a sympathetic smile. I felt dumb for a second, but after seeing his face... I think I might be falling.

"Why don't we leave, would you like that?" I hugged him, my head in his neck. I nodded as fast as I could. He grabbed me and in a second, we were in his car.

For sure the alcohol got to my head that night.

Taglist

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari #lando #gorgeous

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alexfromjersey · 9 months

Text

ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 | 𝕁𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕆𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕒

Jenna Ortega x Black!Reader

summary: you and jenna have been in a relationship for the past eight years when suddenly everything starts to get rocky.

warnings: mature language, angst, violence, jenna doing some dirty shit

a/n: idk why but I wanted to write some angsty 😬? God forbid this ever happened to me cause I’ll be in jail…

“Who is she Y/n?”

That was the first thing you heard when you walked into your home after a long day at work. You just got off an agonizing 12-hour shift at the warehouse and all you wanted to do was shower, eat, and then sleep.

“Who is who Jenna?” You tiredly questioned as you pulled off your boots and work jacket.

First of all let me say, you can’t accuse me of all the things, you know you’re guilty of

“The woman you’ve been sneaking around with” Jenna answered and sipped her wine. Her eyes never leaving your figure.

You sighed, “Please don’t start this shit again tonight please I’m exhausted.”

That it is easy for you to blame everything on me

“I wonder why. Too exhausted from all the lying, the sneaking around, fucking her, and giving her all the attention that’s supposed to be for me” Jenna snapped.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m not fucking anyone, Jenna! What’s your problem? For the past two weeks, you’ve been accusing me of seeing some imaginary woman when all I do is work and come home to you. I don’t even go out with my friends anymore when will I have time to cheat on you” You questioned her loudly.

“How do I know you’re going to work? You could easily say it and go somewhere else” Jenna said.

“Jesus Christ you have my location on your phone!” You shouted.

“You could have left it at your job and left to go sleep with her” Jenna shrugged.

If that’s the case I should go have my fun and do all the things you say I do

You scoffed and just let out a laugh, “How fucked up in the head are you? Maybe I should do all this shit since you think that’s my grandmaster scheme. Drive almost an hour away to go to work, leave my phone at my job, miss out on a shift that makes me lose money, and go fuck a girl.”

You laughed and walked straight past the woman. You walked up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your patience was wearing thin and if you didn’t step away from her, you were going to say something to really hurt her feelings.

Girl, I can’t continue to take this from you

“I can’t fucking win with this girl man. Ever since she came back from filming that new movie, she’s been on a thousand. Accusing me of cheating and lying shit. I don’t do anything but go to work and go home” You ranted to your best friend Donny.

It was your day off, you sitting on your front porch watching the cars pass by when you felt the need to vent to someone. You haven’t seen Jenna since last night, you slept on the couch and when you woke up she was nowhere to be seen. She only left a note telling you that she was going to be hanging with Emma. You invited Donny over to hang out for a little.

“Maybe she just needs some of that groundbreaking pipe” Donny chuckled.

“I would if she let me touch her. She won’t let me go near her to initiate anything. Haven’t had sex since she left and I haven’t stepped out once” You stated.

“Oof you better than me. I would have cheated as soon as she left” Donny admitted unashamed.

“Yeah that’s why your ass is single” You chuckled.

Donny chuckled also and shrugged, “I’m just keeping it real.”

Suddenly, a message notification came from the top of your phone. It was from one of your co-workers that you used to go get a drink with.

When you say I was out with somebody else when my girl told me she saw you with some girl

Kai:

yo I just seen your girl

Your eyes furrowed at the message.

You:

seen her where?

Kai:

the shopping center a town over. I’m out with my daughter and she pointed her out. she walked away from some tall-looking man but I’m pretty sure it was her

At the mention of a man, you furrowed your eyebrows. She told you she was hanging with Emma today. You needed to get to the bottom of this. You found Jenna’s number and just as you were about to click it. A FaceTime call from her came.

You answered it and all you saw was the roof of a car. You go to say something but you hear the sound of a soft moan in the background. You put yourself on mute and turn your volume up.

“Oh my…you feel so good baby” You heard Jenna moan.

Donny’s eyes widen at the sound coming from your phone. He was in disbelief that this was happening to you.

Your heart starts beating faster and faster. Your hand kept clenching and unclenching in anger. You wanted to say something or do something but you were frozen.

Jenna’s moans continued to increase in volume and you saw the phone bounce from the movement of the car.

“I love you Luis” You heard Jenna shriek and the slapping sound increased. You then saw the phone move to a position that’ll forever be engraved in your mind. You quickly took a screenshot and hung up the phone.

It was silence for a few moments. Neither you nor Donny making a move or uttering a word. But your hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists and Donny noticed. He looks at you in concern but you pay him no mind.

You abruptly stood up from the chair and stormed into the house. Donny was hot on your heels concerned and slightly scared.

“Y/n?” Donny asked you but you ignored him. You practically run up the steps and burst into your shared room. You start to throw open all the drawers and throw out everything. You didn’t know what you were doing, just angry. You started throwing anything breakable into the wall.

The once organized and clean room was now in disarray. Clothes, shoes, and personal items were thrown and broken everywhere. Next, you moved to the walk-in closet. You threw every piece of clothing on the floor, moved the boxes from the top shelves, and threw shoes everywhere. But then you noticed a small LV purse, you got her for her birthday last year. It was tucked in a deep dark corner, you would have missed it if it wasn’t for one of her other bags falling out of place. You grabbed it, opened it, and dumped everything onto the bed.

What you saw officially confirmed your fears. It was Polaroid pictures of her and a guy you’ve met numerous times. It was one of her co-stars, Luis Gutierrez. Pictures of them kissing, at the state fair, and one in a bed.

The same bed you and her sleep in.

“Y/n…” Donny cautiously stepped towards it before his eyes landed on something on the bed. You look to where his eyes are and landed on a half of heart necklace with the initial “L” engraved into it.

After seeing that, you grabbed your jacket and left the disarrayed house with Donny following.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude I think you should slow down on the drinking,” Donny said to you in concern.

“I think you should shut the fuck up and let me drink in peace” You snapped at the male and downed two more shots. That marks it as your fourth and fifth shot.

Donny didn’t take your words to heart either. He knew you were hurting badly. The only way you knew how to deal with that pain was by drinking until you passed out…a trait you learned from your mother.

You still didn’t feel drunk enough so you ordered another round of shots. Donny just watch you take them back like water.

“Eight years Donny…eight fucking years I gave her. All those years down the drain. She was accusing me of cheating when SHE was the fucking one sleeping with someone else!” Your voice raised in the building.

Thankfully, there weren’t many people in the bar but the ones who were turned to look at the commotion.

“I understand but calm down-”

“Man don’t tell me to fucking calm down. How the fuck am I supposed to be calm about this? My girlfriend accidentally FaceTimed me and practically showed me her fucking someone.” You laughed.

“Hey take that shit somewhere else” An angry customer demanded.

“Who the fuck is talking to you Mr. Clean” You insulted the man. He didn’t like that and he pushed you. You stumbled back into the counter but quickly recovered and pushed the man as hard as you could.

“Hey! Enough!” Donny shouted and pulled you away from the man.

“Get the fuck off me” You pushed Donny’s hands off you and walked out of the bar into the autumn weather.

You didn’t live far from the bar you were just at. You take some shortcuts and you’ll be home in 10 minutes but you wanted to take the scenic route which added an extra 8 minutes to the walk.

While you walked, you had to figure out your next move. You and Jenna share a house, a car, and a dog together. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just up and leave. It wasn’t as easy for you as it was for her.

On your walk home, you stopped by a liquor store. You bought yourself a bottle of Tequila and started drinking it on your walk. You were well aware that you could potentially get arrested for public intoxication but you didn’t care.

Just when it seemed like you were calming down, God decided to hate you even more than he already did.

A honk of a horn and a shout of your name made you turn around to the source. A familiar red Audi pulled up next to you and parked. The man responsible for your current rage hopped out of the car with the woman you used to love.

“Y/n? What are you doing walking like this?” Jenna questioned.

“Yeah, and why you got a bottle of Tequila” Luis innocently questioned.

You stared at the male with a blank expression, “I’m clearing my head.”

Jenna scoffed, “Clearing your head for what? Got something you want to tell me.”

Your eyes cut to her and she didn’t make it noticeable but she jumped at the sight of your dark emotionless eyes.

“Nah I get it, sometimes you just need a few minutes to yourself. I get like that all the time especially when I’m home. I’m so used to…”

Your eyes stared into his before wandering down to his neck where you see a faint bruise there. Your eyes then land on a silver necklace, similar to the one you found around his neck. The necklace had a “J” initial engraved on it. Your hand tightens around the neck of the bottle.

Your eyes then glance at Jenna who was staring at Luis with a look she used to give you.

“Y/n?” Luis called.

His voice goes distorted and starts to fade away as a blinding rage starts to take over. Before you know it or stop yourself, you swing the bottle and it connects with Luis’ head.

“OH MY GOD!” Jenna screamed.

Luis fell against his car, blood dripping down the side of his head. You didn’t waste any time and hopped on top of him and landed punches to his face.

You were blinded by your anger, by the betrayal, and by the emptiness you had inside of you.

“Y/N STOP!” Jenna yelled and tried to pull off Luis but you wouldn’t budge. You kept landing punch after punch after punch to his face. Your hand went numb and blood coated it. You were finally tackled off the unconscious male by two police officers.

“Put your hands behind your back!” One of the officers yelled and forcefully pulled your arm back. They slap handcuffs on your wrists and harshly stand you up.

As you walk past, you see Jenna and a couple of bystanders standing over Luis. She then looked at you but you averted your eyes. You kept your face expressionless as you were loaded into the back of the cruiser.

Or maybe I, I should have done it, should have given away all my love or maybe I, I should have played you, 'cause you don't appreciate me, no

The loud sound of a jail buzzer wakes you up from your slumber. You open your eyes to realize that you’re still in a jail cell with three other people. You look down at your aching hands to see them bruise up and dried blood on them.

Blood that wasn’t yours. You’ve been in this cell sobering up for the past nine hours.

“Y/n! You’ve been bailed out” A guard shouted. You stood up from the seat and walked to the door. Another buzz was heard and the door swung open. You stepped out and followed the guard to the front.

Once you got to the front, you saw Jenna standing there with an angry and frustrated expression on her face. You sighed and you grabbed your things before signing some paperwork with much difficulty. But once you were finished, you didn’t say a word to Jenna, you just left the police station.

“Y/n? Hello? Are you going to fucking explain yourself? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna snapped at you.

You ignored her and continued walking. But Jenna wasn’t having that, she jogged in front of you and stepped in your path. You tried to walk around her but she just followed her.

“You almost fucking killed Luis, Y/n. Do you not realize that?” Jenna seethed.

“Leave me alone Jenna” You mumbled and finally went around her but she was at your side in a second.

“No, I won’t leave you! You beat Luis so badly that he had to go to the hospital for stitches and a concussion. You’re not explaining to me why!” Jenna yelled.

You let out an angry breath and your eyes glare at her. This makes Jenna jump a bit because she’s never seen you this angry before.

“You wanna know why? You wanna fucking know why I should have killed that fucking bastard! Here!” You shouted and you pulled out your phone and showed her a screenshot you took. You then pulled the pictures you took from her bag and threw them at her chest.

“You are a fucking hypocrite Jenna. You accused me of fucking cheating on you when in actual reality, you were the one sleeping with another man. I gave you eight years…eight fucking years of unconditional love. Eight years of being by your side. Eight years of being loyal. Not once did I ever give you a reason to question my loyalty to you!” You shouted at the girl.

Jenna’s eyes widen as the biggest secret of hers has finally been discovered.

“You made me feel like I was the bad guy. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I stopped going out to places. I did anything and everything I could to try to fix what was broken between us” You fumed as your voice cracked. Tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks as you finally let your emotions out.

“Y/n…I-”

“You had him in our bed. You fucking FaceTimed me in the middle of you sleeping with him in his car. How much more disrespect do you think I can tolerate?” You cried. The tears now falling freely down your face. But you wiped them aggressively from your face.

“I should have fucking cheated,” You said and left her standing in front of the police station.

a/n: so…I’m watching the vmas right now and SZA should have won song of the year but we ain’t gon get into that 🙂…

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x black!reader #Spotify

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witchxxjpg · 3 months

Text

im happy that you liked my previous lestappen hunger games au🥳🥳🥳 and asked for a part of it. it is alive purely because of you, so enjoy!!

******

Charles got picked when he was just 12 years old. It was rare for a tribute to be that young but it happened sometimes.

Jules volunteered for him that year. He could've been 18 the following month but he stayed 17 forever. Charles would always remeber staying up all night to pray for him.

Charles would forever remeber seeing another tribute slashing his throat with a sword.

The whole 10th district mourned his death that day, raising a finger to the sky, pointing to the place where all people went. He was a caring and passionate guy. Even some other districts said their sorries. He was loved by everyone. And by Charles the most.

In just 5 years Arthur was picked. And Charles knew exactly what he needed to do.

The Capitol played his life as a tragic story of a boy who repayed his debt by volunteering himself for his little brother. He knew that Jules didn't want that, but he also knew that Arthur was too small and scared to be a tribute.

He won his games.

He portrayed the role of an innocent brother with angelic face and a pure goal. He wanted to believe the lies that the Capitol made him play. But everyone saw how Markus, a boy from district 4, died. With a dagger in his heart.

Charles was always good with daggers and knives. In his district he was terrible at caring for animals that his family was all looking after. But he was extremely good with skinning and preparing the meat to be sent to the Capitol. He used his skills well during his games.

He never had nightmares. But he saw traits of lost tributes in faces of all people.

Charles lived peacefully for 6 years.

He was more or less lucky with how the Capitol treated him afterwards. He was well aware of how pretty looking tributes ended up. But his role was to motivate all the districts to behave. They filmed a lot of videos with him that they called 'promotional'. To show what happened to people who disobeyed and to people who behaved themselves.

Charles was sick of doing all these lies, but it was better then being a toy for some moneybags.

After 6 years the 75th Hunger Games were announced. The Third Quarter Quell.

There were only three male winners from District 10. Sebastian and Kimi. And Charles.

Charles was picked again. He said his goodbyes to his family.

He was aware that these games would be different and he knew that he won't walk out of them alive. He at least was happy that Sebastian agreed to be his mentor this time too.

******

Max was born to win. That's what his father always said. He was trained all his early childhood to become a winner of the games.

That's why as soon as he turned legal age he volunteered.

His father pressured him into the games and never helped. Max was lucky to have Daniel as his mentor.

He won his first games of course. The youngest winner ever and with a record of most tributes eliminated.

He'd thought that he'd never have nightmares. But now he knew.

Max was just 13 when he won, but as soon as he started to understand the world he knew that he was doomed.

Doomed ro relive memories of his father's puppet.

Max dreamed of his snowy arena. Of all 12 kids that he killed with his axe. Of their distorted faces and hoarse screams. He never wanted to fall asleep again.

After the games he continued to study in the academy to be a peacekeeper. He wanted ro do at least something good. He finished with the highest grades and best results. He was offered a position as a Head Peacekeeper. He chose District 10.

He saw people from District 10 selebrate its win when that boy returned home. He saw them raising a finger to the sky. 'The chosen one'. That's how they called him. Charles.

Max saw him sometimes. When he went to the central fair or left to the Victor's Village. He saw how people treated him. Like a son or a close friend. And he treated them the same.

He was their victor.

All winners had perks and Max saw how he gave them all away to people of his district.

Max had to suppress his inner urge to reach out for him. To ask if he felt the same way.

Like a broken tool that no longer had a purpose to serve

Probably he didn't. He helped his people. And Max was a peacekeeper, wearing a mask to hide his face that's outlined by all the deaths that he'd caused.

He tried to reduce people's suffering.

He was a peacekeeper for 8 years.

When the time of the 75th Hunger Games came closer, Max knew about the Third Quater Quell and how it would be like.

There were a lot of winners to compete for District 2, but during the reaping Daniel was chosen. Max didn't doubt that Daniel would've won the quill, but Max saw the trace that the games had left on him. He saw how the games had treated him. He knew Daniel's story.

Max volunteered again.

Long time ago he cared about himself. But he didn't anymore.

He saw that boy from District 10 being chosen too.

******

Daniel was born in District 2, but his parents weren't.

He never felt like he fit with all the others.

Since young age he had to attend the academy to train there like every child of the second district muct do. He always hated it.

He read once in some old book from the library a phrase that made him understand what he felt. 'Like a bird in a cage'. His 6 year old self was very impressed.

Daniel liked all his survival classes, the ones that didn't include murders. All of his classmates hated them.

He was never like the others. When he first got to his class he tried to make friends. That's what his parents advised him to do. He tried to smile and tell stupid jokes, to share home-made food with the others and help them study. He tried to be himself.

But it never quite worked.

Everyone laughed at him and not with him. They pointed at him, calling him 'a dumb weirdo'. They took his food away and threw it in a garbage bin. They locked him in storage rooms to skip classes that caused him a lot of warnings and later detentions.

Daniel tried not to notice them but he couldn't. He spent most of his life in the academy with bruises on all his body parts and tears on his cheeks. He knew that he was not like the others but he didn't think that he was so difficult that people can't be in the same room as him.

Until he turned 17.

All students from the academy had a queue for games. Everyone fought to have a chance to win the games. And when the reaping started someone from the list of volunteers would go.

Daniel was picked for the 64th Hunger Games. He thought that someone from the careers would volunteer as they always did. But everybody kept silent.

It felt like a death sentence.

His mentor was Mark. He was fun and helpful. He advised to make friends.

On the first meeting with tributes Daniel decided that he liked only Jev from District 8 and Jules from District 10. They were both nice and didn't laugh at his attempts to be nice too. It was the first time that he thought he could have a friend.

It didn't last long.

Jev was one of the first to get eliminated. Daniel and Jules tried to stay together. But one day into the games they had to part ways to get food and water.

The next time Daniel saw him was with a sword slashing his throat.

He tried to heal the wound but his knowledge wasn't enough.

Before Jules passed away he gave Daniel his lucky charm - a small wooden statuette of a bird. Daniel wouldn later return it to his godson.

Daniel won the games. He knew that nobody from his district expected that.

The following year he decided to become a mentor. For 13 year old Max.

Max was always angry with his bright icy eyes shining with rage. But he also wasn't like others.

He was one of the careers, but Daniel didn't see their traits in him. Max didn't want to win for glory and pride.

He just wanted to make his dad happy with him.

Daniel tried to teach him how to live in this world. He tried to make him realise that he didn't need to kill all 23 of tributes for his dad to be happy with his son. He tried to make him feel better. He tried to joke and make him laugh as all early teenagers his age should do.

And he felt pretty cool when he succeeded in that, hearing his small laugh with a shy smile.

He knew that the boy liked him but he didn't know what to do.

And then Max won his games.

He stood there on the podium with a prideful expression on his face, but all Daniel saw were his empty eyes filled with something.

And Daniel was well aware what was that something. He saw it in himself every time he looked in the mirror.

Daniel tried to reach out when Max told him that he's going to be a peacekeeper. They even met sometimes when he was still studying in the academy.

After Max graduated he was sent to District 10 to serve there. And Daniel tried to still talk to him. Even when Max was very busy with his duties they called each other. And Daniel was always happy to hear his voice.

Daniel made friends among other winners. He had Lewis and Sebastian. But there was still something about Max that made Daniel care.

The next time they saw each other was right before the reaping for the Quarter Quell. All of the victors from District 2 were in the same hall, and there were a lot of them.

Daniel barely recognized Max with all the years that they spent apart. He looked broad and tall, even taller then Daniel. Nothing like a 13 year old boy that had won the games. His face was completely different, a strong jaw and no chubby cheeks.

But his eyes. They were still empty.

They shared an awkward hug and Daniel felt too good in his arms. He wished they could stay together for longer.

And he felt fine until his name was called.

He was picked.

Almost third of all the winners were from District 2, so Daniel thought that he wouldn't be in the games again.

He didn't have the time to think because Max volunteered.

When he looked at Daniel his face didn't hold a trace of uncertainty. He looked calm and sure. And his beautiful eyes flickered with something. But it wasn't the same something as after his games. It was something different.

And in a week he found himself in the same situation like 10 years ago.

Helping Max win.

******

Sebastian though he was a good mentor.

He took this role after his win at the 61st Hunger Games. He was the second male victor from District 2.

Kimi was a good mentor too. He was always calm and confident. Sometimes he felt distant but Seb never had a feeling that he didn't care about his tributes.

Sebastial saw a lot of good children that competed in the games. He saw all of them die.

He was a mentor for 8 years until he met Charles.

Everyone in District 10 knew Charles. His family had one of the biggest farms and Charles was extremely skilled with daggers. And everyone knew his story.

Sebastian still remembered mentoring Jules.

For Charles he decided to go for a sad story. That's how they can get more sponsors.

Charles was a pretty good actor and quickly understood what worked the best to get a reaction from the audience. He played well with his adoring face and big eyes.

Even before the games started they had enough donations for Seb to sent him daggers as a sponsor dift, so he didn't need to fight for the weapons.

And Charles won.

It wasn't something that Sebastian was surprised about. But he didn't think that he'd ever experience some kind of happiness. And here it was.

They both lived in Victor's Village. It was almost empty except for 5 houses that were also occupied by Kimi, Silvia and Lily. Both women preferred to live in the Capitol, so usually there were only three of them.

They even met every day for dinners together. It could get lonely sometimes.

Kimi had a family. A beautiful wife and two amazing kids. Seb loved them.

He didn't understand how Kimi could live knowing that his children might go through the same thing in the future. Seb knew that he didn't want kids because he wouldn't be able to live if one of them was picked for the games.

Sebastian waited for the Third Quarter Quell.

When it was announced Charles said that he would go for them if he or Kimi were chosen.

It wasn't necessary. Charles' name was called.

Sebastian knew that it was his duty to protect him.

They decided on the same strategy. Play nice and innocent for the sponsors.

When asked about alliance, Charles said that he wanted Carlos and Max. Seb would've advised on Lewis. But knowing that Nico from District 1 was participating, he would be too occupied fighting his biggest enemy.

Sebastian thought that Carlos was a good option. He was strong and not that arrogant. His help would be great.

But Max was different.

Even though Seb trusted Daniel who said that he was good, he still wasn't so sure.

Max was always quite complicated. He was too aggressive and forward, and despite everything that Daniel told him Seb didn't like him.

The games started in no time.

Charles knew their strategy well. He teamed with Carlos as soon as everything started.

They ran together.

They did pretty good during the first couple of days. Even succeeded in stealing an axe for Carlos and a knife for Charles.

This time the arena was a forest and it got pretty cold fast. They had to help each other.

They found a beautiful lake and a well-hidden cave nearby. There was also a small field with a lot of growing poppies that made it look as it was cowered in drops of blood.

On the first day near the lake Carlos made a small bouquet of them and gave it to Charles.

Sebastian thought that they were a good team. Trusting each other. He saw that something was growing between them.

Until one day Carlos got a spiked arrow in his right shoulder.

Everyone understood that he wouldn't be able to walk out alive.

Sebastian saw Charles trying to help him with all his herbalism skills, Seb himself sent them some good ointment to heal the wound. But it still wasn't helping.

He saw Carlos screaming in agony and Charles crying over his feverish body. Carlos begging Charles to kill him and end his suffering.

They all saw Charles putting his knife on Carlos' throat, choking on tears.

Charles buried him near the shore of the lake, filling his grave with bright red poppies.

The next day Charles decided to go search for the others. He packed all his things and took Carlos' axe. He was shit at working with it but it was his only great weapon as his knife had become dull. And he still remembered some of the tips that Max had shared with him during their training out of the blue.

He walked the whole day and thought that he wouldn't see anyone. But just as the sun set he saw a flicker of light in the distance. As he quickly and quietly approached the bonfire, holding the axe at ready, he noticed him. It was Max.

And Max noticed him too.

"I don't want to kill you", Charles said.

And Max answered, "I don't want to kill you either".

They were awkward at first but Max reached to his backpack and pulled three daggers. "They might suit you better then me. I have no idea what to do with them".

Charles took the gift and decided to give Carlos' axe away in return.

They didn't sleep at night, not really trusting each other yet, and talked. And appeared that they had a lot in common.

Sebastian saw all of this.

He just hoped that it wouldn't end up terrible. And that he wouldn't need to mourn another friend.

#lestappen #charles leclerc #sebastian vettel #max verstappen #cl16 #daniel ricciardo #mv33 #mv1 #my art #carlos sainz #f1 fandom #f1 art #formula 1 #digital art

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zwedexx · 4 months

Note

Hello how are you? Could you write something where the reader is a famous actress and Alexia or Frido loves the films she makes, and then one day (Alexia or Frido) gets all excited because she's going to meet the reader? :)

“Hey, film this. I swear, she’s been talking about it all day.”

Fridolina Rolfö x actress!reader

Summary: request

TW: none

WC: 1026

A/N: I finished writing this at 12:58 am so my mind is really not sharp so I apologize if its an actually piece of flaming shit. I also used this as an opportunity to kinda try out social media fics.

General POV

“Hey, film this. I swear, she’s been talking about all it day.” Lucy whispers to the social media admin.

“Frido, what’s the name of the film again.” Lucy shouts.

“Facts of Life.” She shouts back.

“Why Lucia, not this again.” Aitana whines from nearby.

“It is an excellent film, the cinematography, the plot, the acting. The lead actress is amazing, she had me captivated throughout the entire thing. I don’t understand why you are complaining.” Rölfo retorts.

“It’s not the movie we are complaining about, it’s you talking about it and the actress all day.” Aitana replies with an annoyed sound

“If you watched the film you’d understand.”

Instagram post

Liked by y/n l/n, and 25,674 others

fcbfemini frido has something to say

View all 109 comments

_fcb_fan982 did anyone else see that y/n liked the post

footballmyliife she commented too

y/n l/n could I entice you to come to my next premier in Lisbon. 🫣

loverolfo09 this might be might be my new Roman Empire.

barca1109 Creo que Frido está enamorada

dudethealpha shut up, no one cares

fcbperlavida Ella me ha convencido para ir a verlo.

General POV Lucy was buzzing with excitement as she scrolled through the comments of Barca’s recent post. It had garnered a relatively good amount of attention including yours. Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that you had not only liked the post but also left a comment.

“Frido, you won’t believe it. Come see this.” Lucy exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief

Frido, who was mid set, begrudgingly walks over to Lucy. Lucy could see her eyes read your comment then immediately light up, mirroring Lucy’s excitement.

“Oh wow. Is she being serious?” Rolfö half questions.

Aitana, hearing Lucy’s shouts from afar, chimed in.

“Lucy, de lo que estabas tan emocionada.”

“Frido, tell her.”

“Y/n l/n liked the video of me and commented an invite to her next premiere in Lisbon”

Aitana gave Lucy a quick side eyes before letting out an impressed whistle.

“You gonna go.”

Frido froze for a second. She absolutely wanted to go but it sort of hit her, someone she admired wanted to meet her.

As the Swede prepared for her trip to Lisbon, her anticipation and excitement continued to grow. Being invited to attend your premiere was amazing on its own but the prospect of meeting you added a layer of thrill. She knew she admired you but she could feel that there was something more to it.

Instagram Post

Liked by y/n l/n, and 1,347 others

Flight went well, get my hair done for the premiere.

@lisbonconceito

View all 42 comments

y/n_l/n Can’t wait to meet you

loverolfo09 please take pictures

barca34 a crossover we never knew we needed

fcbfem444 thank you for this content🧎🏻‍♀️we have been fed

Frido couldn’t believe her luck as she stood on the red carpet at the premiere of your film. The flashing of the camera and the glamorous atmosphere were things she had gotten accustomed to due to the award ceremonies but her heart still raced.

As she glided down the red carpet, her eyes caught a glimpse of you. She was completely enamoured, you radiated elegance and beauty. You noticed her staring after a couple of minutes and flashed her a warm smile, making her heart skip a beat.

Her heart skipped another beat when she saw you leave the throng of camera people and come towards her.

“Hey, I’m so glad you could come and that I could meet you.” you greeted her, extending your hand.

Frido, trying to keep her composure, took your hand. “Thank you so much for inviting me, I am a big fan of your work and you.”

You blush ever so slightly, your gaze holding hers. “I do aim to please and I’m glad you were the one I pleased.”

The fullback could see a hint of redness spark your cheeks and decided to test her luck.

Frido leaned in, a playful glint sparkled in her eyes. “I just really want to tell you this to your face but you are such a good actress, your films leave me wanting more. And meeting you is a pleasure that I didn’t know I needed.”

You chucked, the air between you filled with welcomed tension.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying the show, both on and off-screen.”

As the night progressed, you and Rolfo continued to share laughs and engage in conversation. After 30 short minutes you had her heart. She was completely enamoured with you and she could sense that you felt the same. There was this youthful feeling to this love, sort of a school crush.

The atmosphere was electric and the connection between the two of you was palpable. Amid the middle chaotic glitz and glamour, there was a moment when Frido’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while while reaching for a canapé.

Frido's eyes met yours in a brief, yet charged, moment. A subtle blush painted her cheeks as she quickly withdrew her hand, but the touch lingered in the air. Unspoken words passed between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction.

You decided to take the initiative, letting your fingers intentionally graze against hers when you handed her a drink. Frido looked at you, a mixture of surprise and delight in her eyes. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. Later, during a particularly engaging conversation, you found yourselves standing in a more secluded area away from the bustling crowd. The soft glow of the venue's lights added a touch of intimacy to the moment.

Frido, feeling a surge of courage, gently placed her hand on the small of your back, a subtle yet affectionate gesture. You turned to her, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you. The touch lingered, conveying a connection that went beyond the superficial world of premieres and films. In that brief moment, amidst the glamour and excitement, Frido leaned in once more, gently touching the underside of your chin and bringing it up for your lips to touch.

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #women's football #woso soccer #woso couples #barca femeni #barcelona femeni

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veeluvss · 6 months

Text

✮⋆˙ “Smile, Aaron!”

Day 6 of 12 days of Christmas

Aaron x reader

1545

You are Aaron’s new gf and spend Christmas Day with him and Jack

“Y/N look at my Darth Vader lego!” Jack exclaimed as you entered the apartment. It was Christmas Morning and you’d let Jack and Aaron have their morning together before heading in.

“Jack, let y/n get in first buddy,” Aaron laughed. You smiled and embraced Aaron. His strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and he even lifted you off your feet slightly. You squealed, not expecting it.

“Merry Christmas beautiful,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas handsome,” you replied. He lifted your chin with his fingers and took your lips into a soft kiss. Jack ‘ewwed’ as he watched it and you laughed, pulling away. You tried to hide your blush but it was unsuccessful. He wrapped an arm around your waist and you turned to his son.

“Whats this present you got?” You asked him.

“It’s star wars lego! Can we build it now? Can you help y/n?” He asked, smiling up at you with his big eyes.

“Dinner is nearly ready but you can start it together,” Hotch said.

“How about you open my presents, we set the table and then after dinner, we can start it - all three of us?” You suggested. Jack’s eyes lit up widely.

“You got us presents?”

“Of course I did! Go sit down.”

You picked up the large bag that you left by the door and Aaron looked at you.

“You didn’t need to get us anything.”

“I know,” you said, smiling. “I wanted to. Go sit.”

Both your boys sat eagerly. Jack with his legs tucked under him on the floor and Aaron sat on the sofa.

“Okay, it’s nothing mega. I just saw them all and thought of you,” you said. You handed Jack the three for him and Aaron two for him. Jack immediately ripped off the paper and out fell another star wars lego set which made Aaron laugh.

“More!” Jack exclaimed.

“More! It’s not as fancy as your Darth Vader one but your dad told me how much you enjoyed lego.” It was a scene rather than a structure but Jack didn’t mind, he turned the box around to show Aaron the figures he got in the set. He was impressed. You felt the christmas warmness spread through your heart at his happy face.

“You have to open the next one at the same time as your dad-” you smiled and handed them both squishy presents.

“Okay ready dad… one… two….” they both ripped them open and Aaron burst out laughing when he noticed what it was. He held up the pyjama set, covered in little cartoon Darth Vaders and Jack held his up, covered in cartoon Lukes. They were both midnight blue, covered in other cartoons from the film - the ships, storm troopers, Chewy. It was a set of pants with a button up shirt.

“Do you get it?” you asked, sheepishly.

“Get it?” Jack asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Luke, I am your father,” Aaron said, in his best Darth Vader voice.

“Oooh!” Jack burst out laughing and you smiled too.

“You are so cute,” Aaron said, looking over at you. You blushed again, you weren’t used to this affection. “These are perfect.” he said again.

“Open your next ones, come on-” you ushered him, handing him the next gift. You loved the attention and affection but had no idea how to deal with it. Aaron smiled and opened his present whilst Jack opened his last too. You got Jack a math’s stationary set with all the correct scientific equipment as Aaron had told you he’d been super interested in physics and mathematics and he was overjoyed. You got Aaron a watch, with the face of a picture of him and Jack after his triathlon. The face was slightly opaque so unless you looked at the right angle, you couldn’t see it. He smiled widely, admiring it before pulling up his shirt sleeve and putting it on. You watched in awe at how lucky you’d got.

“Come on Dad! Let’s go get changed!” Jack announced, jumping up. He grabbed his pjs and grabbed his dad’s hand. You laughed, not expecting to see the fashion show so soon but you didn’t dare argue.

A few minutes later, Jack emerged from his room with his pajamas on. They were a little big so you called him over to help roll up the sleeves.

“These are so awesome,” he said, staring at the patterns.

“I’m glad you love them. If you want, I can take them and properly adjust them,” you told him.

“Like sew them up and things?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah. If you want, unless you like them a little bigger. It’s up to you.”

“My mum used to adjust my clothes,” he said softly. You paused and looked at him. Aaron had told you what had happened to Hayley but you’d never heard either of them talk about her otherwise. Before you could say anything, Aaron came from his bedroom, wearing his too.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. A grown man, tall and scary looking sometimes looked so soft and bear-like in his star wars pjs - matching his son. You felt tears in your eyes. Jack turned and gasped loudly.

“Dad, you look so cool.”

“Thanks buddy! You look super cool too.”

You still hadn’t stopped staring at him. You watched the way Jack ran into his arms and wrapped himself around his torso. Aaron held onto him, bent over and kissed the top of his head and real tears fell down your cheeks. Your boyfriend looked up and saw them, he smiled softly. You fell even more in love with him.

“Let me get a picture,” you said, quickly wiping your tears and jumping up. You found your phone in your jacket pocket and Jack wrapped his arm around his dad’s back, turning into you. He had one hand with his thumb up and a big cheesy grin on his face. Aaron put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and copied his son’s hand gesture.

“Smile, Aaron,” you teased. Everytime there was a camera present, he seemed to lose his ability to smile.

“Dad!” Jack laughed, knowing it too. “Smile!” Aaron smiled wide, it reached his eyes and you melted once more as you took a few snapshots of your favourite boys.

You and Jack got to setting the table and Aaron went to finish up the last few bits of dinner.

“Y/N,” Jack said, sitting in his seat.

“Yeah buddy?”

“Will you be my new mum?”

You paused again. You looked at him and noticed him looking at the picture frame on the mantel. It was a beautiful picture, of Jack, Aaron and Hayley. You loved it.

“No buddy,” you said. You sat beside him, at your designated seat and he sighed. “I’ll never replace you mum. Never be your new mum. But I’ll love you and I’ll love your dad.”

“I don’t want you to adjust my pajamas,” he said after a few seconds. “That’s my mum’s job.

“That’s okay,” you replied and took hold of his hand. “You’ll grow into them anyways.”

“Okay! We have chicken, turkey, brussel sprouts, roast potatoes, yorkshire puddings, pigs in blankets, mixed vegetables and beef gravy!” Aaron said proudly. You smiled and looked at the extravagant spread.

“We’re going to eat all of this to ourselves?” you asked.

“Dad gives the left overs to the homeless shelters. We always go on boxing day,” Jack announced as he reached to help himself. Your eyes grew wide in shock and your heart exploded with love. You looked at Aaron and he blushed.

“Could you get any better?” you asked softly, almost talking to yourself.

“Any meat, m’lady?” He said, keeping his eyes down and presenting the plate of chicken.

Later that night, you sat in front of the fire with your feet up and hot chocolate in your hand. You had a film ready to play on the large TV and a bundle of blankets around you. You could hear Aaron putting Jack to bed and you smiled contently. This had been the best christmas you had had in the longest time and your boys had made it so special.

It wasn’t long before Aaron joined you on the sofa. He sat beside you and you turned to look at him. You admired the shadow forming on his chin and his slightly tired eyes from the long day.

“You look so beautiful in the fire light,” he said. You blushed and lowered your eyes. “And you look even more beautiful with pink cheeks.”

“Shush,” you giggled nervously and turned to the TV. He laughed a little and moved closer to you. He put the blanket over his legs and you realised he was still wearing the pjs. He wrapped an arm around your waist and cuddled in to you. You felt the butterflies in your stomach but let you head curl in the crease of his neck. He planted a gentle kiss onto your head before resting his chin on it.

“Y/N,” he muttered after a few moments.

“Hm?” You replied, letting your eyes fall closed in the warmness of his embrace.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied with no hesitation. You didn’t need to hesitate. You did love him.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #jack hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #12 days of christmas #christmas #Hotch criminal minds

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morallyinept · 6 months

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YIPPEE KI-YAY! - A Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot

Summary: You, Sarah and Joel settle in to watch a Christmas film together, bickering gently over if Die Hard is classed as a Christmas movie or not. When Sarah goes to bed, you try and sway Joel to your opinion.

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 3.3K

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Oral M receiving - lucky Joel!

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas film. Come at me. 😎

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Got the marshmallows?” You query, as Sarah steps forward holding a mug out for you.

“Please.” She throws you a coy look and you smirk.

You regard her with a smile, standing in the kitchen that’s still so new to you.

Joel’s kitchen, despite the occasional chaos of a single dad and his teenage daughter navigating the same space, emanates a sense of warmth and homeliness and the scents of burnt toast. And is surprisingly clean and well organised. Although, you suspect Sarah is probably responsible for that.

A handwritten 'to-do' list is on the fridge in writing that looks like Sarah’s, with items like 'take out the trash' and 'unload the dishwasher,' reflecting a gentle reminder for both father and daughter to share the responsibilities of maintaining their space.

During the very short time that you’ve gotten to know Sarah, it's evident she takes care of her dad, more than he’d like to admit, but Joel would agree that she’s wiser and mature for her tender years.

Something that you know he wrestles with, pertaining to some slight regret that he has to work so much and leave her to bring herself up on occasion.

She gathers the bag of marshmallows into her mouth, the plastic creaking between her teeth as it dangles and picks up two mugs.

“Gimme that,” you chuckle, pulling it from her lips as she giggles, and you follow her through into the lounge, elbowing the kitchen light off.

Joel is on his knees in the lounge, pushing the disc into the DVD player, and sits back on his heels as you both come through.

A black t-shirt runs tight over his broad shoulders, and his hair is still a little unkempt from you running your fingers through it whilst he was between your legs, only hours before.

He takes the mug from Sarah with big hands, with a crooked smile and a thank ya, baby.

The Christmas tree is up, although a little askew, and with lots of colourful string lights knotted around the branches. A handmade, paper angel sits atop the tree; a six year-old Sarah’s creation, that Joel has taken care of and insisted would adorn the tree for the rest of its delicate existence, despite one of the sequined eyes missing now.

You settle onto the couch with Sarah, a gap left in the middle for Joel, whilst he brings out a bottle of the stronger stuff and proceeds to pour some into yours and his mug.

“Can I have some of that?” Sarah asks.

“Absolutely not.” Joel gruffs and doesn’t even look up.

“Come on, man. It’s Christmas.” She says.

Joel glances up at you bemused, and you shrug. “I’m not being the bad guy.” You say, smirking.

“Please?” Sarah continues.

He sighs, caving. “If ya get sick, ya cleaning it up yourself.” He warns and proceeds to pour a little glug of the whiskey into Sarah’s mug.

She smiles accomplished, settling back into the couch, sniffing the infusion of dark, heady notes mixing with the cocoa.

You plop a couple of marshmallows into your mug from the bag, and Joel finally sits in between you both and clicks the menu button on the remote.

“Die hard?” You ask, scoffing as the opening credits roll across the screen. “You had one task, Joel.”

“Ultimate Christmas movie, darlin’.” Joel announces proudly. He waggles his eyebrows at you, but you’re not buying it.

“Just be grateful it isn’t Curtis and The Viper, that’s Dad’s favourite.” Sarah says. “I’ve seen it far too much.”

“I got that for after,” Joel chuckles, evilly.

“This is not a Christmas film.” You pout.

“Is too.” Joel says.

“Home Alone? Christmas movie. It's a Wonderful Life? Christmas movie. Die Hard? It's an action classic with a festive backdrop at best.” You say.

Sarah, with a mock serious expression, points at the TV. "You know, the only thing missing from this Christmas masterpiece is a cameo from Santa himself."

Joel smirks. "Ya mean the gritty, action-hero version of Santa who delivers presents via rooftop jumps n’ takes out Hans Gruber?"

Sarah laughs. "Exactly! Badass Santa."

Joel leans into her shoulder, his eyes gleaming. "Santa in a red camo suit, armed with candy cane nun-chucks, fightin' off the Grinch n’ his gang of holiday heisters."

Sarah shakes her head, trying not to let a smile break through. "You're turning Christmas into a comic book. Die Hard is not the graphic novel we need for the holiday season."

“Please don’t encourage him.” You whine.

"It’s the one we deserve," Joel declares with a theatrical flair.

You sigh dramatically. "You're impossible. I bet you think fruitcake is a gourmet holiday treat too."

Joel and Sarah both gasp in mock horror. "Fruitcake slander!” Sarah says.

“Now that's a crime worse than anything in Die Hard. Ya've crossed a line, darlin’."

Sarah can’t help but giggle. “Dad loves fruitcake.”

“Your dad is a fruitcake.” You clarify with a grin.

“Ya hearin’ this?” Joel says incredulously to Sarah, shaking his head as he sups from his mug.

"I'm just saying, there are certain standards for Christmas entertainment. Die Hard doesn't quite fit the mustard." You say, slurping from your own mug too.

Joel leans back, a mischievous glint in his chocolate eyes. "Standards? S’all about breakin’ traditions. Die Hard is the rebel of Christmas movies n’ shit."

“Nope. Not a Christmas film.” You declare.

“S’a good job ya pretty.” Joel says, leaning in to place a kiss on you, then pecks you ferociously.

“Gross.” Sarah winces, as you push Joel off of you, mindful of spilling your hot chocolate.

“Yippee Ki-Yay, baby!” Joel teases her.

“Gross? Sounds like jealousy to me!” Joel leans across her and pelts her face with kisses as she wails, almost spilling her own mug over the carpet too.

"Dad!”

You grin. "You're turning into a Die Hard evangelist. If I had known this before, I might not have given you my number that night in the bar.”

Joel turns to you. “Too late now. Ya stuck with me.”

You smile at him, feeling warm as he looks at you, smiling back with dilating pupils. Perhaps it’s the whiskey or perhaps it's something else.

Perhaps it’s the continued insatiable appetite you have for him, and have had since you both met.

Joel and your serendipitous meeting at a dimly lit bar a few weeks back set the stage for a blossoming, hot romance that neither of you saw coming. It was a Friday night, and the air was filled with the lively hum of laughter and the clinking of glasses in a festive atmosphere.

Joel, nursing a whiskey at the bar after a long, tiring day on the site, couldn't help but notice you sitting alone at a corner table, engrossed in a book, but slowly peeping at him over the top of the pages and smiling.

Joel decided to take a chance, spurred on by past conversations with Sarah about how he should date and put himself out there more. With a bewitching smile, he approached your table and struck up a conversation about the book you were immersed in.

As it turned out, Joel wasn’t much of a reader, but you could forgive him with his soft, brown eyes and broad shoulders that hunched up when he laughed genuinely at your jokes.

What started as a casual, flirty chat quickly evolved into a deeper connection as you discovered attractions and common interests, when you came up for air from under the sheets.

Although, not about Christmas movies, evidently.

“I'm waiting for you to start handing out pamphlets door to door that say, 'have you accepted our Lord and Saviour, John McClane into your life?'" You titter.

Joel laughs. "If John McClane knocked on my door, I'd invite him in for Christmas dinner n’ put you two out.”

Sarah points at the screen. "See, explosions and chaos.”

“That's not exactly what I call a festive holiday atmosphere." You say.

“Ya two are crazy. Come on, it's action-packed holiday fun! What more could ya want?"

Sarah leans back, crossing her arms. "I don't know, maybe a heartwarming message about the true meaning of Christmas? Where's the cheese factor?"

Joel smirks. "Who needs cheese when ya have 'Yippee-ki-yay?' Classic Christmas catchphrase right there."

“I like cheese.” You pout.

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Classic action movie catchphrase, maybe. I don't see Hallmark putting that on a Christmas card."

Joel raises an eyebrow. "Hallmark wishes they had a fuckin’ hero like John McClane in their lineup. Now, that's a Christmas card I’d buy."

“You’ve never brought a Christmas card in your life, dad.” Sarah smirks.

“Damn waste of money. Ya gonna throw it in the bin anyhow.” He shrugs.

You smile, reaching for the whiskey and Joel holds his mug out towards you for a top up. "You're missing the point. Christmas movies are about love, family, and maybe a little bit of magic. Die Hard has, what, explosions and a bald guy in a dirty tank top?"

Joel puts his finger on the neck of the bottle so you pour more into his mug. At this point it’s neat whiskey flavoured with cocoa.

“He’s kind of hot though. Bruce Willis.” You say.

“See, ya do like it.” Joel grins. “I win.”

“He is hot.” Sarah agrees.

“Ya too young to notice that he’s hot.” Joel retorts.

“I’m fourteen, dad. I have periods now.”

“Mhm. Less I know ‘bout that the better, thank ya.”

“Yikes.” You chime in, grinning.

"Don't forget the Santa hat. That's festive." Joel says, pointing at the screen a little while later.

Sarah scoffs. "A Santa hat doesn't magically transform a movie into a Christmas classic. It's like putting tinsel on a cactus and calling it a Christmas tree."

Joel laughs. "Hey, a cactus with tinsel sounds pretty festive to me.”

“Why can I imagine you doing this?” You query to Joel.

“He did. Last year.” Sarah confirms and you snort.

“I might've forgotten to get a Christmas tree.” Joel holds his hands up, grunting.

“How do you forget to get a Christmas tree?”

“I was working.” “He was working.” Joel and Sarah both say at the same time.

“Die Hard is the cactus of Christmas movies - prickly on the outside, but there's a nice holiday surprise waitin'." Joel says.

“You have an answer for everything.” You snicker.

“Well, that's why ya like me…” Joel says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Maybe,” you smile back at him, meeting his lips. He kisses you a little deeper, tasting the warmth of the whiskey on his tongue.

“Stop it.” Sarah says, and you both chuckle.

You feel Joel’s fingers interlock with yours and give them a gentle squeeze.

Later, you turn to see Sarah with her head back, eyes closed and mouth open.

You nudge Joel, rousing him from the film, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arm out, and you nestle inside it, head pressed against his chest as you watch the movie.

“Lightweight.” He snorts and you smile.

He takes Sarah’s mug from her lap and places it on the coffee table. As he sits back, he turns to you.

You feel him kiss the top of your head, and your fingers skim the hem of his t-shirt and stroke softly at the skin under there. You can feel the galaxy of soft hairs around his belly button and he hums out contentedly and you scritch softly there.

"Y’know, watching Die Hard with ya… maybe we should make it a yearly tradition?" He murmurs.

“Oh really?” You tease looking up at him.

Joel leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice. "Who needs mistletoe when ya have John McClane savin’ Christmas? Though, I wouldn't mind a little mistletoe action right now..."

“Mm,” you crane up, pressing your lips to his as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

"Smooth, McClane. Very smooth." Sarah chuckles, a grin spreading across her cheeks.

Joel stops kissing you and smirks. “Get ya drunk ass to bed.”

“I’m not drunk, but I'd rather be throwing up in the toilet than watching you two suck face.”

Sarah stands as you giggle.

“Hey, gimme some sugar.” Joel calls back to her.

She turns and leans down to give Joel a kiss as he pats her on the back. “Night, baby.”

She then comes over to you and gives you a cuddle and a peck on the side of the cheek.

“Night, sweetie.” You say with a bright smile.

As Sarah hugs you goodnight, the scent of her coconut shampoo filling your nose, you can't help but be taken aback by the authenticity of the gesture.

It’s as if that bridge of trepidation and angst of Sarah accepting you has been cemented with shared laughter, keen interest, and now, a simple, yet genuine hug.

Joel catches you smiling as Sarah leaves the room, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

“Ya wanna stay again tonight?” Joel asks.

“If you’re sure?” You ask.

He nods. “She likes ya. S’fine.”

“I really like her too.” You say. “She’s a good kid. You’ve done great with her.”

“She’s a smartass.” He retorts.

“Just like her dad, then.” You cluck.

“Easy,” Joel holds his arm out and you nestle back into it, putting your feet up.

A little while later and the film comes to an end. And you can’t help but smile when Joel asks you your thoughts.

"Fine, maybe Die Hard has its own twisted Christmas charm. But don't expect me to wrap it up and put it under the tree." You titter.

Joel chuckles. "Who needs gift wrap when ya've got a Nakatomi Plaza-sized bow on top?”

“Mm, it's the gift that keeps on giving." You mirth.

Joel shakes his head, as he leans in for a kiss. “No. You are.”

“Mr Miller, are you getting soft on me?” You giggle as he smooches at you.

“Quite the opposite, darlin’…” He takes your hand resting on his chest and slides it down to the hardening bulge in his jeans.

“Mmm,” you remark, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Now, how has this occurred? You got a thing for me or John McClane?”

“Both.” Joel smirks and you chuckle.

“You and John want the room?”

“I’ve had too much whiskey. I can’t be held responsible for what I say or do right now.”

He leans in and kisses you again. His lips are full and plumpy and they devour you greedily as his tongue searches his way around your mouth; caressing and creating sparks down your spine.

“I think I know what I wanna do right now,” you whisper to him.

You can taste the tang of the whiskey, the sweetness of the cocoa; feel the warmth emanating from him into your bloodstream.

Hear the small clicking sounds as you both osculate intensely. Savouring the taste of him, the smell of him this close and the sheer bliss of his tongue working up that dark voodoo magic.

“What’s that, darlin’?” Joel asks, with hooded eyes.

You wiggle out of his giant hands and drop to your knees in between his. You tug his jeans down, clumsily, but fast as he pops open the button, eager for what’s to come.

“Well, alright then!” He gasps.

He cups his cock on the outside of his boxers adjusting it, and you run your hands up his legs towards the goods.

Slipping your fingers inside the waistband, you pull them down too as he lifts his ass off the couch for a second so you can fully yank them down those long legs smattered with dark hairs.

Joel’s presented to you again in all his hard, thick glory. Glistening in the light as you watch him thumb over the head, collecting the glossy precum, before he holds it out to you.

He bites his lip as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting him.

Eyeing him, you insert him slowly inside of your mouth; him watching with widening and drooping lips as you go further and further to the base; swallowing him whole, the tip of his rounded head on the back of your gag reflex, but not heaving at all.

You sit up on your knees and take the base of him inside your hand, excitable and hard.

You pull him back out and do it again, over and over, taking him deep and slow.

“Fuck…” Joel groans delightfully, his hand stroking through your hair gently. “Ya so fuckin’ good at that. Oh, Jesus..."

You let his cock slide out of you one last time before you lower your head and take one of his balls inside your mouth. Pushing his legs wider open so you can shove your face right up in there.

You look up as he reacts instantly; almost pulling away with the mildly discomforting, yet pleasurable feeling that overtakes, as you suck gently on those puffy, pink sacks.

“Aww, shit, that’s good,” Joel whines, throwing his head back.

Whilst you suck, you massage his cock up and down with your hand; still sticky and wet from your saliva. Running your palm over the bulbous head making his hips judder and buck.

Joel sits up a little, watching you suck; the graze of his voice doing a punch out with his larynx as he struggles to speak.

“Suck it again. Show me what that pretty mouth can do, hmm?” Joel prompts.

He watches you tease the tip with your tongue before sucking him back in between your lips.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He drones, his head lolling back and closing his eyes as you suck hard on the head of him, stripping him of his breath.

You take him down deeper, something that surprises you both at the depth; sucking him like a pro and it pleases him immensely. He presses down on the back of your head testing your gag reflex and he feels you heave which makes his balls spasm.

“Tap out if ya wanna stop, okay?” He says, and you stroke his thigh in agreement.

You swallow him deeper, sliding all the way down his wet, sticky length and pushing your nose into the soft paunch of his tummy.

“Yeah, choke on my cock.” Joel encourages as you drool over it.

You heave momentarily, but still as you swallow around him. You do it again, and another heave makes you lurch a little.

You relax the back of your throat, letting him slide in all the way again. He’s impressed, not many can take him so deep down their throats, his girth is intimidating to say the least.

The husk of his grunts, like whispers pelted in wet gravel, echo inside your ears. Joel has no words; instead, the noises that are puffing out of him make you tingle all over.

His huge hands massage inside of your hair and soon you feel him fucking up into your face, pushing you deeper onto him as he thrusts his hips, forcing himself further down your throat.

"Tap out if ya want me to stop... Oh, fuck," he reminds you gently.

More heaves roll up from your stomach, inhaling deeper through your nose that it whistles somewhat, and he pants, bucking into your face as he fucks harder now.

Gug-gug-gug... an unrelenting rhythm of sticky, suction, and satisfied grunts flow from his mouth around the lounge.

“Fuck, yeah!” He growls as you open wider as he hits the back of your throat, punching the wet flesh there as you dig into his thigh skin with your nails.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He hisses. “Shit, I’m gonna come!” Joel hisses, filling your throat momentarily, some of it spilling out of your mouth and down your chin.

You scoop it up and suck it back into your mouth, swallowing it all down.

“Now, where did ya learn to suck cock like that, hmm?” Joel pants, beside himself.

“We’re all full of surprises,” you remark, smirking.

He chuckles, a wheeze in the back of his throat that's now dry and raw.

“C’mere,” he pulls you up gently to him, with a soft chuckle.

You nestle into his lap as he grips you tightly and close to him, kissing you.

“Fuck, I’m still shakin’,” he groans as you smirk at him. “Ya kill me, darlin’. What’d I do to deserve that?”

“Early Christmas present.” You shrug with a wink.

“M’a lucky son of a bitch.” He groans.

“Yes, you are,” you giggle as you kiss him.

“Gimme a few minutes n’ I’ll give ya yours.” Joel says, with twinkly eyes, his hands grabbing your ass as he pulls you closer still.

“Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker,” you say, as Joel grins wildly at you.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

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celestie0 · 5 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon.

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap.

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium.

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag.

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds.

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.”

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up.

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment.

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people.

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms.

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.”

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.”

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core.

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.”

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him.

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state.

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies.

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?”

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.”

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.”

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed.

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.”

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone.

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.”

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started.

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms.

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile.

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?”

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits.

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense.

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.”

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.”

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!”

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other.

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.”

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.”

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.”

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued.

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions. You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots.

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing.

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.”

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

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fandomfucker · 5 months

Text

Space-Poly!TJD x Fem!Reader

Request: poly relationship between judgment day and reader. The reader is keeping a secret from their partners. The secret is that she is a little. The reason why she is hiding it is because she thinks that they will hate her and leave her like her last partner did. One day when they are all out and she is home by herself she slips into little space and she is in little space for an hour until they get back and Damian goes to check on her and he walks in on her in little space. She's all freaked out. Damian is the only one who knows what little space is. They all explain that it's adorable and that they love her for who she is. Her main caregiver is Damian but they all take care of her when she is in little space. She has a stuffed tiger named Maengho.

A/N-I want to preface this by saying that this is NOT SEXUAL however it is about little space so if you don't want to read it, don't. I would also like to go ahead and apologize for any incorrect information/misrepresentation, I did research on it and tried my best. Please enjoy and sorry for the wait ❤️

Word Count: 2,051

Reader's POV

Alright, Love. We'll be back later, okay?" Rhea informed me as she held my cheeks between her hands. I nodded and smiled up at her as she bent down to kiss my forehead before grabbing the keys to her truck and walking toward the front door.

Finn, Dominik, and Damian, my other three partners, all filed after her. They all gave me a small kiss and a quick goodbye as the four of them left to go film some Judgment Day promos.

Once the door had been shut behind them and I had seen Rhea's truck speed away down the road, I breathed a deep sigh of relief, a small weight being lifted off my shoulders.

Work had been really stressing me out lately but with my partners all unaware of my strategy for coping with stress, I hadn't been able to do anything about it. But now they were out of the house for at least a little while and I was free to do whatever I wanted.

After going and grabbing one of the little bottles of apple juice we kept in the fridge, I happily skipped back to my own room, immediately heading for my walk-in closet.

Shortly after we had all moved into our house together, I had set up a small space for me to be a little in. Basically, somewhere for me to decompress while acting and having the same overall headspace as a child.

The closet wasn't massive but it was just big enough for me to set up what was essentially a giant pillow fort.

The walls were lined with fluffy pillows, half of them the really big tube ones, and the floor was littered with thick fluffy blankets.

I had only a few stuffed animals but they were all my favorite ones. There were about 12 in total, my favorites of favorites were ones from Build a Bear that I'd made with people special to me, my number one being Maengho. He was a tiger I'd gotten all of my partners to build with me a couple of months ago after we first moved into our house.

Fairy lights hung from the ceiling and walls, creating a homey effect that I adored. I also had a small TV mounted on the wall, above a nightstand type of dresser I stored my little clothes in. It was mainly just Disney Princess nightgowns but I also had some My Little Pony pajama sets and a Rainbow Brite sweater for if I was cold enough or just wanted to be extra comfy.

I had some tutus and dress-up jewelry for when I felt like it, but I just enjoyed wearing pajamas more than anything.

Ripping my hair out of the ponytail I'd stuck it in, I plopped down onto a flower-shaped pillow on the floor, beginning to dig through the dresser for a specific Tinkerbell nightgown I knew would be in there.

Not bothering to stand up, I just changed into the dress while sitting on the floor, opening the closet door only for a minute to throw my regular clothes out into my room.

I grabbed the small remote off the dresser, and turned on the TV, turning it to Disney+. My favorite movie of all time since I was a baby was actually The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh so I turned that on as I adjusted the pillows and blankets around me, making myself comfortable.

Sitting criss-crossed apple sauce, and laying a fluffy pink blanket across my lap, I sat Maengho on my lap before setting my little lap tray that had all my coloring stuff stored in the side pockets in front of me.

Opening up the Lisa Franke coloring book, I flipped to a new page, deciding on a picture of two baby penguins in a basket.

For over an hour, I sat in my closet, fully immersed in my little space as I half-paid attention to the movie, coloring in my penguins with vibrant colors.

I was so immersed in fact, that I hadn't heard the garage door open or the calls from my partners soon after.

The door swung open, making me jump and causing me to draw an unwanted line down the center of my paper.

My eyes were wide with fear as I looked up to see all four of my partners looking at me in the doorway, confusion and concern etched on all of their faces.

Damian's POV

Y/n sat on the floor with a stuffed tiger, wearing a Disney princess nightgown, coloring. We all just kind of stopped in our tracks and stared at her in confusion as she looked up at us.

Her eyes were wide and slowly started to become filled with tears. She curled into herself, hugging the tiger, Maengho I remembered, tightly to her chest as she dragged her blanket up to cover her entire body and half of her face.

The tears started falling as she silently cried. I realized what this all was as I gently crouched down to better get on her level.

She began to bring her knees all the way to her chest and curl into herself even further as I reached out a hand to her. I retracted my hand before I scared her to death and took to just speaking to her softly instead.

"Y/n? It's sweetheart, we're not upset."

She lowered the blanket slightly from her face as she looked at me. Her lip quivered as her gaze shifted between me and the other members of the Judgment Day.

"You're not?" She asked timidly.

I shook my head 'no' in answer, glancing back to the other three to see that based on their facial expressions alone, they had no idea what was going on.

Turning back to Y/n, I spoke to her softly and quietly so as to not scare her any further. "Tell you what, us four are gonna go back down to the living room for a few minutes to talk, okay?" I made a circular motion indicating us wrestlers as I spoke.

"Do you want anything in the meantime? Or do you want me to bring you anything from the kitchen?"

She slowly shook her head at that, speaking so quietly I almost didn't hear her. "We don't have anything here."

I gave a nod in understanding a gave her a small smile before standing back up and turning around to push our other partners out of the way as I shut the closet door behind me.

None of them made any move to leave the room until I started making shooing motions with my hands.

Once back downstairs, I had them all sit down on the couch as I stood in front of them to explain what exactly was going on.

Reader's POV

Curious, I waited until I couldn't hear my partners' footsteps anymore before quietly retreating from the safety of my closet.

It was me and Maengho against the world as I held the top of his head to my mouth and tiptoed towards the stairs. I went down as far as I could, keeping to where they wouldn't see me.

I leaned my back against the wall, holding Maengho tightly as we eavesdropped on my partners and their conversation about me.

"Okay, so it seems to me that Y/n is a little. I don't know her specifics but basically, she gets in the headspace of a child to escape reality." I heard Damian explain to them.

There was silence as the others absorbed that information.

"Wait, shouldn't she be a part of this conversation then?" Dominik asked him.

Damian took a second to think about it before responding. "Yeah, we'll have a larger conversation including her, obviously, but I wanted to go ahead and give you guys a basic understanding of what we're getting into. If anyone has a problem with it they can leave."

"That makes sense, but I'm still in." Finn agreed.

"Me too, but I think the first thing we need to do is take her to the store and get her some food and whatever else she wants. We don't want her to feel uncomfortable and like she has to hide this part of her." Rhea vocalized.

"I second that." I heard Dominik speak up, ever the Mami's boy.

"Let's go then!" I heard Damian exclaim as they then all began to make their way back upstairs to my room.

Panicking, I shot up from where I was sitting on the stairs, making a beeline back to my fort.

However, in my haste to make it back before they realized I'd been listening in on their private conversation, I somehow missed the last step entirely.

My toe caught the edge of it, sending me sprawling across the rough carpet of the second-floor hallway. "Fuck!"

Four sets of footsteps pounded up the stairs and the sound of my name being called in a panic was all I heard.

Feeling a warm hand on my shoulder blade I rolled over with a groan, seeing Damian kneeling next to me. "Are you okay, princesa?"

I managed to nod my head with only a slight grimace before I asked the question that burned me the most. "Are you guys really okay with me being a little? Because I know it's a lot and it's fine if you hate me and my last partner left because of it and-" I was cut off just as my eyes began to fill with tears again.

"Of course, we're okay with it. We just don't know that much about it yet and need to learn." Finn told me softly.

Dominik nodded along, "Yeah, we all love you no matter what. But, first things first, we need to take you shopping."

"I don't have any clothes I like to go out in," I spoke, my voice muffled slightly due to my face being pressed against Maengho. I was a bit taken aback and overwhelmed by the amount of utter love and acceptance they were just immediately showing me.

"That's okay, Love. Do you wanna borrow some of mine?" Rhea asked me. She was crouched in front of me, with one of her hands rubbing my knee soothingly. I perked up at this, my head shooting up to meet her gaze and nodding enthusiastically. She laughed slightly as she stood up and then held out her hand to pull me up as well.

I loved wearing Rhea's clothes any chance I got because not only did they just look cool but they actually fit for the most part, unlike the boys' clothes. And they smelled like her.

Borrowing just a pair of her sweats, I paired it with an old Muppets t-shirt that I had.

After I had finished changing, Damian gave me a piggy-back ride downstairs, having me take a seat on the second to last step of stairs as he put my shoes on for me.

I giggled and kissed Maengho goodbye, not wanting him to get covered in Walmart germs before grabbing Damian's hand and skipping out to Rhea's truck.

I sat in my usual seat, the middle in the second row with Damian and Finn on either side as Rhea drove and Dom rode shotgun.

Once we got there, Dominik, ever the gentleman, helped me up into the cart so I could sit in it as they pushed me around, following my points and vague gestures toward the things that I wanted.

They got me cookies and cream ice cream, paired with gummy bears of course, along with dinosaur chicken nuggets that I had to promise to share with Dom. Rhea had even snuck off at one point to surprise me with bubbles for the bath.

We picked up some other snacks and stuff for me to have when in little space before making our way back home.

Upon returning home, I changed back into my princess nightgown before giving my partners puppy dog eyes for ice cream, to which they eagerly obliged, just wanting to make me happy.

So, happily, I ate my ice cream, doing wiggly happy dances in my seat as my feet swung back and forth beneath me.

When we had been looking at new furniture for the house, my partners had thought it hilarious to get dining room chairs just tall enough that my feet couldn't reach the floor.

My partners watched on from their own seats at the table, each of them with a smile on their face. They were all so different from my last partner it was insane.

There were still conversations to be had but for now, everything was perfect.

#the judgement day #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day #wwe raw #wwe #tjd x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #damian priest #damian priest x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor

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thebellearchives · 11 months

Note

For your prompt event, may i request fluff prompt 12 for sukuna? 👉👈

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑

~ ryomen sukuna ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : there’s something so intriguing about the curse that lives inside your best friend, unfortunately for you the king of curses might’ve picked up on your interest

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff? more like sukuna being a smug flirty bastard !!

‧₊˚ a / n : so i wasn’t sure if i wanted to give sukuna a body of his own but this is the first time i write for him and i really wanted to try and describe them as different people despite sharing the same body, so Yuuji is mentioned a couple of times ~

Toge ver. || Sukuna ver. || Gojo ver.

prompt list

In the past few days there was nothing that Yuuji and you hadn’t been doing together. In fact, to say 'past few days' was most definitely an understatement, it was more like months. He was your best friend after all, so there weren’t many things about him that would surprise you anymore. Except Sukuna.

He wouldn’t come out often, but when he did there was this electric sensation of thrill running through your skin. He was something else for sure. He’d make you nervous, curious, he’d have you at the edge of your seat. And that was exactly what was going on in that exact moment. You and your best friend had decided to watch a movie that wasn’t going to be at the cinema for much longer, so when you walked in with your popcorn and drinks there was no one else there.

The movie had started out pretty interesting, the main character was likeable, and that classic event that would take him out of his comfort zone was pretty cool too, but along the way it had just gotten a bit monotone. Or so you though, because next to you your pink haired friend had been quiet for a long time. When you finally glanced at him the black tattoo-like marks on his smooth skin let you know it was Sukuna the one who was insanely focused on the movie.

After noticing that, you were not able to focus on the movie anymore. You’d shift on your seat, sip on your drink more often that you normally would. Crossing your legs, uncrossing them instantly, leaning into the opposite arm rest, sitting normally again. You tried to fix your gaze on the screen, you really did, but somehow your eyes just wouldn’t stay put and you’d end up admiring Sukuna. You couldn’t help but study the way his whole demeanor changed, he was now laid back on his seat and with his knees angled outwards, as opposed to Yuuji who’d always keep his legs straight. His head tilted to the right, resting on his fist and a slight frown. He was comfortable in his body, his muscles were firm instead of relaxed, giving him a confident aura.

But your little study session came to an end when Sukuna caught you staring at him.

“You keep staring at me instead of watching the film” his lips curled up in a malicious smile “What's up?”

What’s up? You wish you knew.

“Nothing” you cleared your throat and tried to sit straight once again “I didn’t think you’d be into this kind of movies.”

A deep, resonant and derisive laugh left his throat.

“You’re a terrible liar, did you know that?”

The truth was that laugh of his had actually turned your insides upside down, your face flushed with a deep crimson colour.

“What was i supposed to reply, then?”

“The truth of course, like a normal human. Although I suppose humans do lie a lot.” he offered you a charming grin, but you rolled you eyes and took another sip from your drink.

“And what is that truth then, king of curses?”

“Just say you think I’m hot, sweetheart.”

“What?” you could’ve sworn your heart somehow had gotten tangled in between your vocal chords, almost making you choke on your drink.

This time his laughter was more vibrant, it was clear he was enjoying making fun of you. Did he think you were some kind of toy to use for amusement?

“You’re gonna deny it?” you frowned, swallowing nervously. You remained silent, but he insisted, leaning towards you and encouraging you with teasing words “go on, say no.”

“No.”

“Yeah, like I said, terrible liar.” he smirked, playfully stroking your cheek with the back of his index.

#; fluffy belle #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk 2 #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gn!reader

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tonicandjins · 1 year

Text

frequent flyers | lee donghyuck

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 13k

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut (non-linear) | best friends to strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: read with caution. this is written in a non-linear form, so you don't know when it's going to hurt ;) this is a dh x reader version of my markhyuck fic from ao3, but with a different ending

frequent flyers is the third installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: skin glowing under the dainty string lines and lined up lanterns hanging from the high ceilings, lips curled up to genuine smile instead of the usual teasing smirk plastered on his mouth, cheeks tainted in berry red—a single manifestation of the glasses of wine he’s had tonight, eyes round and sincere and everything you’ve ever known.

Zhong Chenle’s mellifluous voice echoes in the banquet, singing to the tune of lover as the newly weds take their first dance (third song in) in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples and lovers swaying. From your peripheral view, you catch a glimpse of Park Jisung sneaking his phone out and recording the whole thing—after Chenle clearly mentioned no one else aside from the newlyweds’ assigned videographer is allowed to film him.

On other days, you’d love to listen to Chenle’s golden voice, and he knows this because from all the years you’ve known him, you’d supported his career and you’d spend many hours sitting in his studio, listening to him record, or sitting somewhere halfway across the world, watching him write his songs. I can listen to him sing all day, you’d say, but as the night jumps deeper into its darkness, you realize how excruciatingly long his 15-minute medley went by.

You look across the room.

Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

You begin to count.

At 27, you’re pretty much done with all kinds of romance the world could offer.

Unlike the person sitting next to you, you prefer to listen to Blushing Youth than watch some high-rated romantic comedy film during your 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Incheon, and while you’ve been moving around for most of your life (having earned your nickname as frequent flyer, credits to Jisung), flying is not one of the things you’re fond of. In fact, it’s not in the long list of strengths you brag about in your LinkedIn bio. You reckon it would truly be embarrassing, to say the least, to ask a stranger to distract you from the sound of the aircraft’s engine running at full power as it takes off from the runway, hence you opt to blast Ahn Jiyoung’s voice right in your eardrums.

It’s odd, people would say, for someone who’s supposedly mastered the art of moving from one country to another to be so terrified of flights, but if people want you to be completely honest, nothing sounds more horrifying than the thought of seeing Lee Donghyuck after years of radio silence.

As pathetic as it sounds, your heart still skips a beat—three, sometimes—at the thought of him.

Donghyuck, who used to be your sun, who had you orbiting around his gravitational pull for years, who used to be so close but not enough to have, who—if you think about it now—might have never been the center of your solar system after all, but maybe just a shooting star passing by.

The plane takes off, roughly and loud like you’d expected, and you catch a glimpse of a scene from Love, Rosie from the person sitting beside you and immediately regret going coach instead of flying business like how you would if your flights last more than ten hours. You hate this film; you hate it because Alex is to Rosie, like how Donghyuck is to you.

Alex and Rosie, like you and Donghyuck, are—were—long-time best friends who used to be inseparable until one day they’re not. Rosie misses her chance. Alex stops yearning, hoping, waiting, and finally decides to get on with his life. It’s a story of a bunch of tangled webs—a messy tumbleweed of missed calls and delayed flights, of long nights and short days, of forgotten promises and faded hope.

The film introduces new people, bids goodbye to old chapters, but in the end it’s Alex and Rosie.

And you wish that’s how your story went. You don’t end up kissing him in your very own hotel with an awe-striking view of the horizon right outside the window.

You bury the thought before you start missing him again. You run out of tracks from Blushing Youth’s discography like how you run dry from thinking about what happens next when your plane lands.

Might as well sleep it off.

A sharp, jabbing pain on your left leg wakes you up from your unscheduled sleep. Hissing, you find Donghyuck sitting on top of your legs.

“I swear to God,” you breathe, kicking your best friend’s weight off your limbs. “I will freaking kill you.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with saying fuck? You’re literally twenty,” Donghyuck replies, moving further so his entire body crushes yours, and you have to pretend that his warmth doesn’t make you feel some type of way, hence you push him as hard as you can until he falls onto the carpeted floor of your room.

He falls with a thump. “Screw you,” he mumbles, mouth forming a pout that you’d gladly smack out of his face—except you’d do it with your very own lips. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why are you napping?”

“Good question, Donghyuck,” you start, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking for the pair of specs that Donghyuck is already shoving towards your direction; you gladly take it. “Unlike you, I had to work in the café until one in the morning. I hate being rostered in the closing shift, but it pays damn well. Plus, I forgot to do my laundry so I had to throw my clothes in before I slept.

“Overworking again, I see,” he muses, sighing as he scoots to sit cross-legged across you on the bed too tiny for two people.

“The last week of the semester always sucks balls,” you answer, tilting your head in attempts to stretch your stiffened neck and get some kind of relief. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out there doing something stupid with Na Jaemin?”

“There’s a music festival on Friday,” he starts right away. “Jaemin’s wondering if I’d be interested to go, says he could get us some free passes from the guy he’s hooking up with. Apparently, the guy is DJ-ing.”

You blink. “Which one? Lee Jeno? Or Yoon Sanha?” you ask, genuinely curious because Jaemin is Jaemin and he could never be caught exclusively hooking up with one person.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Does it matter? Is it a yes or a no? That’s the question.”

He begins to fiddle with his fingers, playing with the rings on his long, delicate digits, and you recognize it almost instantly. Donghyuck is nervous. You might have an idea why.

“Is this you finally asking me out, Lee Donghyuck?” you half-joke, scratching your head. Donghyuck looks anywhere but your face. A glimpse of his eyes is all you need, because if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then Donghyuck’s are wide open, with no curtains and bare from all layers—at least that’s how they are to you. His eyes are wavering, and though he’s mastered the ability to keep his face tough as steel, those orbs could only do so little when it comes to hiding from you.

So, you smile, reaching out and leaning closer, kneeling until you’re face to face with him. “Only kidding, Hyuck,” you say finally, taking it easy because this conversation is not for one who’s hazy from sleep and one who can’t even look at the other in the eyes. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Who else can you bring anyway?”

Donghyuck looks up, rolling his eyes; he’s back. “You’re not really irreplaceable,” he replies smugly. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”

You poke your tongue out and reach over your night stand to check your phone; at the same time, Donghyuck starts biting his fingernails. You don’t think twice—like blinking, a habit, natural—and reach out to pull his hand away, mumbling about how he should start working on getting rid of this bad habit of his. Donghyuck’s hand is warmer compared to yours, and he lets out a whine, complaining about your freezing hands, but squeezes you hand back anyway.

You are content with this. You hope Donghyuck is, too.

The lingering touches. The stolen kisses. The piercing glances.

While they all seem fleeting and simple, they mean the most to you. You begin to think if Donghyuck feels the same as he pulls you closer until you’re both back lying on his bed, your cheek resting on top of Donghyuck’s warm, cloth-covered chest. You wonder if he means it, when he says you’re not irreplaceable and that maybe you’re a little too comfortable, a little too satisfied with whatever it is that you have.

On a drunken night, Donghyuck may have asked you once. You remember it and think about it so much that sometimes it felt like a dream.

“How long, Y/N,” he had asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, gaze a shade darker. “How long until you let yourself just lose it? For once, just—just please, let your feelings consume you.”

You didn’t want to—not then, not now—because it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt because it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Donghyuck who feels like home, whose hands are warm enough for your cold ones, your own little sun. Losing him is the extinction of your solar system.

“Y/N,” he had whined when you didn’t reply, shaking you, pleading. “When are you going to want for more? I want you to ask me for more.”

But Donghyuck had passed out before you had the chance to think of an answer—time frame—and you wonder what your answer would have been if Donghyuck stayed awake for a couple more minutes.

“I guess napping at this time of the day doesn’t sound too bad,” Donghyuck murmurs against your hair, kissing it before relaxing. “Set an alarm for me. 3 pm.”

You hope Donghyuck asks you again, not this time, but you hope the question lingers in his mind a little longer.

He falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

When the person sitting next to you finally wakes up, you could only sigh in relief.

The aircraft has landed a few minutes ago, and your flight seatmate slept so soundly that it took you a couple of minutes to shake her awake.

The 12-hour flight is a pain in the ass, and you wish you mean that figuratively. Waiting was something that you were once good at, and Renjun often told you he wished he had half the patience you had. If you think about it now and reflect whether you’re as patient and as willing to wait as before, you’d changed vastly. Ridiculous, how one could change so much in a lifetime.

Huang Renjun is standing behind a barricade when you finally reach the arrival area after going through immigration. He’s holding a piece of paper that says WELCOME HOME, Y/N! Renjun doesn’t give you the time to cross the boundary because he attacks you in bone-crushing hug the second he’s allowed to. You almost topple over him, your glasses at risk of either falling out of your face and into the cold, hard ground, or being crushed between your nose and Renjun’s shoulder.

Renjun chants your nickname over and over again, swaying both your bodies left and right as though you weighed nothing. “I’m literally about to combust. My chest has been pounding since I arrived here. You have no idea how much I missed you, and you were taking forever to go through immigration.”

“Oh, Huang Renjun,” you sigh, inhaling his scent and returning the hug. “Some things never change. You’re still the sweetest when you miss people. Absence really makes the heart grow fond.”

Renjun pulls away to get a good look on you. “Y/N, you’re all grown up. I can’t believe you resisted not seeing me in person for four years.”

“You’re just as grown up as I am,” you reply. “We Facetime each other every other day. What are you talking about?”

“It’s never the same,” he mumbles and helps you with your luggage despite it only being one small luggage, a small duffel bag, and your small backpack. He starts nagging as soon as he notices how small your baggage is.

“You were away for literally four years and you think packing three old shirts and a pair of jeans will be enough to get you through your entire trip here?” Renjun gasps. “You’re stupid if you think Chenle and Jisung are allowing you to leave after what we’re all here for. They have an entire month planned out the second you agreed to come home.”

“I didn’t bring only three shirts, for your information. And I did bring a few pairs of trousers and a coat, plus my dress for the wedding,” you defend. “And I can’t extend my trip here. I thought we’ve all got that one settled.”

Renjun laughs, as if what you said is some kind of joke, as he leads you towards the exit of the airport. “You know we would 100%, without hesitation, burn your passport if it means we could make you stay longer, don’t you? I hope you don’t underestimate us like that.”

You chuckle at his empty threat, your chest swelling at the thought of your long-time friends being thrilled of your arrival in Seoul. You wonder how much has changed in the last four years, and you reckon nothing much has when it comes to your friends. You’d left when most of you were twenty-three, and the only person you’d ever seen in person since then was Chenle, who at that time, had business in London so he stayed where you lived instead of a luxurious hotel he could afford.

“We’re heading to Chenle’s place,” Renjun announces as soon as you sit comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. “But he’s still in his studio recording something, so he won’t be around until maybe five.”

“Why are we going to Chenle’s place if he’s not there yet?” you ask. “He didn’t tell me he had work.”

“We’ve all worked around our schedules to meet you today,” Renjun explains as he turns the ignition on and starts backing up. “And everyone knows his home’s passcode. Remember back in college when his stupid fancy condo eventually became everyone’s? That’s still how it is now. Only this time, he owns a penthouse in Gangnam’s most expensive building. What a spoiled brat.”

“He earned it,” you comment.

Renjun hums. An old track from the local radio station plays just as the vehicle exits the airport’s parking area. You hadn’t heard this song in years, but your mouth sings the lyrics as though it’s only been yesterday.

Renjun is amused. “Some things never really change.”

Donghyuck suddenly changes his hair color on Sophomore year in college. You, on the other hand, are about to have an aneurysm.

Na Jaemin makes fun of you, laughs as if your reaction is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen his entire life. He deems it as the best day of his life.

“Jaemin, am I a fucking joke to you?” you ask. Jaemin doesn’t even bother to answer. “You think this is funny?”

You almost choke on nothing when Donghyuck decides to walk towards the table you’re sharing with Jaemin inside the university’s very own cafeteria. He’s holding a tray of food for lunch. The man himself has a shy smile on his face, evidently aware of the attention that the people around are giving him because of his newly-dyed pink hair, and you can’t really blame anyone if they stared a little longer.

Because Donghyuck is already beautiful, with his shining eyes and glowing skin and a smile that could make the earth stop orbiting around the sun.

But this Donghyuck, Pink Sun as Jaemin had started calling him, he’s something else. You might pass out if you look at him a little longer.

“I told you pink looks amazing on you!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as Donghyuck is close enough.

Donghyuck instantly blushes, but covers it up with a smug smirk across his mouth.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. “I don’t want you getting hurt if I reject you.”

Jaemin gasps, “You would never!”

Donghyuck playfully sticks out his tongue on Jaemin and finally, finally, turns towards you. Your breath is caught in a hitch. Donghyuck tilts his head slightly and you’re about to punch himself in the face.

“What do you think?” the man asks, smiling cheekily. “Do you think I look better blond or pink-haired?”

You swallow. It takes you great power not to pull Donghyuck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Blond Donghyuck was a menace in the society. Pink Sun is giving you a heart attack.

But you’re not about to make things too obvious, so you shrug and mutter a small “either is fine.” Jaemin kicks you under the table. Donghyuck sighs, taking out his phone to open its front camera, probably to check himself out as he brushes his fingertips in his hair.

“You’re cheap, Y/N,” he says, putting his phone down. “I basically burn my scalp to get this hair color and pull it off better than Lee Taeyong ever will, and all I get from you is, ‘either is fine.’”

Jaemin laughs hysterically, taking his phone out as Donghyuck takes the empty seat beside you—like always, because seats beside you are always reserved for him. Donghyuck carefully places the tray of food he got, immediately, your eyes catch the extra drink he has and your heart somersaults because you know it’s for you.

And this is supposed to be normal. Your friends tell you it’s a routine—every day—and you and him do things for each other like second nature. So, why does it make your heart race like this?

Your phone chimes as Donghyuck starts eating.

“We really need to work on your communication skills,” the text message from Jaemin says.

Your comprehension in Korean went from bad to worse, if it’s even possible.

Renjun is currently roasting you for it, while Jisung and Kim Minjeong are arguing about what to eat. You tell them how small the Asian community in London is as compared to other countries. Jaemin announces that Mark Lee just boarded his flight from Vancouver, too, and you cheer, excited to see him as well after all these years. Yoo Jimin calls out Jisung and Minjeong’s bullshit and says she’d already ordered from the nearest restaurant.

How you all end up in Chenle’s penthouse before the owner himself is aware, you have no idea. All you know is that things have not really changed that much.

You feel a little disoriented, your mind still a little hazy from the 12-hour trip, and you hate that the jetlag is hitting you as early as now. You feel like you could fall asleep anytime soon.

Then you hear familiar voices faintly coming from the door, then the door itself being unlocked. You observe from the digital clock above Chenle’s fancy television that it’s only nearly two in the afternoon, so it’s not Chenle who’s coming in.

Donghyuck appears from the door before you realize it, and he takes your breath away before you could even look him in the eyes.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the dark-haired man says, his voice making you feel suffocated, stepping out of his boots because God forbid anyone who steps inside Zhong Chenle’s penthouse wearing the outdoor shoes.

Lee Jeno enters behind him, his eye smile ready to meet you, while Jaemin says they arrived just in time for lunch. All is a blur and everything sounds like white noise, because Donghyuck looks at you in the eyes with the softest gaze, the smallest smile, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold in Seoul.

Jeno walks past him and finds his space beside Jaemin. You hear Renjun and Jisung start arguing about another thing. All while Donghyuck stays still from where he stands, about ten feet away from your space, eyes still on you.

When they’re done dancing, Donghyuck walks with her, holding her hand and keeping her close.

He passes by, doesn’t even take a glance to your direction.

Donghyuck looks at you in amusement.

“It was terrible,” you grunt. “The worst day of my life.”

He giggles and pulls you in his arms, kissing the top of your head while you stand in the middle of the room. You’re still dressed in your warm clothes as you’d just arrived from the airport. You sigh in relief because you’ve been waiting for this all weekend.

“Don’t be too dramatic,” he mumbles. “Your cousin’s going to be ballistic if he learns that you called his wedding the worst day of your life.”

“You should’ve gone there with me,” you muse. “They were introducing me to so many people, and my uncle knows I’m shit at socializing, therefore forcing me to hang out with people I barely know is like stabbing me in the eye and asking me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What could I have done if I were there?”

You smile, burying your face in his warm chest. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why’d you need me there?” Donghyuck asks again. You know he’s teasing you now, poking until he gets the answer he wants to hear. And you’re not about to deny Donghyuck of that. Besides, nothing is more satisfying than knowing you could make Donghyuck feel flustered despite of his strong, wild persona. So, you reach up and kiss him on the chin and hug him closer.

“Because nothing is as bad as it seems when you’re around, my love.”

Donghyuck begins to pull away, making you hold onto him tighter, as if your hands would grow cold without touching him. Donghyuck only laughs, allowing you to hug him longer, and you wonder if you could stretch this night out for as long as he can.

The moment passes by quickly.

“Donghyuck, will you at least listen to me?”

“I’m done, Y/N.”

Renjun announces he’s done cleaning up.

Jaemin doesn’t waste a single second, getting up from his space on the other couch and announces it’s time they really catch up with everyone. It turns out that Jimin herself just got back from Germany yesterday as well, while Minjeong took a week off from work, and all had waited for you to come home before gathering in Chenle’s place.

“Mark’s a piece of shit, just like you,” Jeno comments when asked why the older didn’t take the earliest flight. Apparently, like yourself, Mark couldn’t get a couple of weeks off from work, hence he’d decided to travel a few days before the wedding, which is essentially why you all had a reason to gather once again after all these years.

“Why are you all harassing me and Mark for not being able to take a longer leave from work?” you whine, throwing a cushion towards where Jeno is seated, right beside Jimin. “It’s not like we can help it!”

Minjeong snorts, “You could’ve said you have COVID or something.”

You snicker. “Only you could think of that, Minjeong-ah.”

Jeno talks about his recent flight to Yonagunijima in Okinawa for a business trip. Renjun tells him he’s never gone that far in Japan, his farthest trip being in Osaka; Jeno says he can take him there anytime he gets some free time from work. Jaemin hypes up Jisung’s newly built dance studio and the contract he’d just signed with the biggest entertainment company in Asia, to which Jisung only downplays and says it’s not that big of deal.

You and Donghyuck stay quiet while everyone else talks over one another. He sits at the other end of the same couch you’re sitting on while Jisung occupies the space between you and him. Renjun probably feels the tension, so he cuts it.

“Donghyuck, what have you been up to?” Renjun asks, reaching over for a piece of chocolate you’d stolen from Chenle’s fridge.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Renjun-ah, don’t act like we don’t see each other every weekend.”

Renjun scoffs. “We’re here to catch up. Do you want me to tell them what you’ve been up to myself?”

Donghyuck throws a cushion and misses. “Nothing’s new about me, guys. Nothing that’s interesting enough.” Then, he leans forward and turns to you. “Maybe Y/N has anything to say. I mean, she’s the one who’s been away the longest.”

It takes you aback, the interaction unexpected, and gets you stuttering. “I’m—There’s really nothing, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Loosen up. You look like you’d rather be elsewhere but here.”

“It’s not like that,” you defend. “It’s just—jetlag.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck nods. “How long was the flight?”

“Twelve hours,” you answer. Renjun does his best, distracting everyone else with a new conversation so you and Donghyuck, you assume, would feel more comfortable rather than have everyone listen to you talking with the person you used to know the best. Jisung tries to subtly leave, pretending like he needs to go to the restroom, and you know it’s a tactic because you also know Jisung like the back of your hand.

Donghyuck immediately moves closer, taking the space Jisung used to sit on, the distance pulling the air out of your lungs.

“And my flight was delayed for a couple of hours because of a storm,” you continue, clearing your voice. “So, fourteen hours in total, plus one hour from Incheon to Gangnam.”

Donghyuck nods. “Well, you fly frequently.”

You nod back. “Not that frequently anymore. Since the pandemic, I’ve been working from home a lot; there was no need to travel after all. Or move to a different country. It turns out we can do everything virtually.”

Donghyuck chuckles, almost sarcastically. “What a shame that the entire world realized suddenly that everything could work virtually.”

You smile, sadly almost. “Yeah. What a shame.”

“I didn’t get the whole thing,” Jisung sighs. “What a shame. The last parts were the best.”

“You know Chenle’s going to kill you if he finds out you took a video, right?”

Jisung nods proudly. “That was the point.”

“Lia, wait,” Donghyuck’s voice echoes—not loud enough to catch anyone else’s attention, but definitely enough for you. You watch him follow Lia out.

You decide you’ve had enough. The wedding’s done now, anyway. There’s nothing left for you here.

Jisung looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Just need some space, Jisung,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“You’re lying,” You gasp, almost dropping your iPad upon Donghyuck’s revelation. “Holy shit, Donghyuck, that’s huge!”

“Never thought I’d hear that in another context but thanks, my love,” Donghyuck replies, a proud smile etched on his mouth. He reaches over and shows you a piece of paper, the confirmation of his participation in a convention in Shanghai a couple of weeks from now.

“Wait until Jaemin hears this,” You ramble, already on his phone to text said friend about the good news. “He’s going to throw a party for you.”

“You guys are too proud of me,” Donghyuck whines. “What if I end up being such a flop outside my comfort zone? There are going to be so many amazing artists out there. I heard some vocal majors from Konkuk are attending the conference with me, and I am already terrified of them. I can't imagine myself once I'm surrounded by even more talented and more intimidating singers."

You put down your tablet on your desk, sighing as you step closer towards Donghyuck. You’re in the apartment you share with Jimin, and Donghyuck called in earlier to tell you he’s got some great news. Neither of you really have much time to meet these days, with your internship at Seoul's biggest web developer company and the drastic changes in Donghyuck's schedule, it's a little too difficult to hang out in the safety of your apartment.

Donghyuck is evidently taken aback when you suddenly wrap an arm around his neck, tumbling when you pull him closer and kisses the air out of his lungs. You regret closing your eyes when your lips touch, thinking about the way Donghyuck looks like whenever you kiss him like this. Like Donghyuck's all you’ve ever needed. Like all the years of pining and hurting are expressed in a single kiss. Like it's everything you’ve always wanted and more.

It's not the first time you kiss—you’ve lost count you made out in the back of Jeno’s car two months ago while all your friends are drunk and out of their minds—but it always feels like it is.

Donghyuck's lips are soft, soft, soft, and you can never get enough of the kissing him. The first, featherlight, a little hesitant touch of your lips would be your second favorite part (the favorite is when Donghyuck's licking your mouth and nibbles on your lower lip), and his hands, his delicate hands would always be in your hair, pulling and pressing and touching.

It's perfect. Donghyuck pulls you down with him on your very own bed, letting you sit on his lap.

He's kissing you everywhere, your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jaw, but he stops when you begin to unbutton his shirt. You look down on him, confused and eager and dazed, and usually, Donghyuck would give in without a single fight, but this time he stops you.

"What are we doing, Y/N?" Donghyuck lets out, like he's been holding this breath forever and now he's finally exhaling it.

"We're," you start, confused why he’s asking all of a sudden, but you don’t really have an answer to that. "We're—”

"Messing around. Having fun while we can," Donghyuck finishes, quoting your own words the first time you hooked up. "I know. But that was before, right? What about now? What are we doing now?"

Your hands drop on Donghyuck's side. Donghyuck quickly takes both of them in his, giving you a comforting squeeze, as if he's encouraging you to say something. To be brave. To let go.

"We can't go on like this if you don't answer me, Y/N," Donghyuck says softly. "I know what I want, and you know that it's you. Just you. From the beginning. As long as I live. And you are making me happy right now. But I need to know if this is what you want, too."

"Love, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you," you explain, eyes wavering.

"Y/N, listen to me," Donghyuck urges, letting go of one of your hands to hold your face so you could look into each other's eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me now, honestly, if this is something you would want in the long run."

"Donghyuck," You sigh, like you’re begging for Donghyuck to stop asking. But Donghyuck doesn't let his guard down. He keeps his hands on you, waiting.

You want nobody else but Donghyuck, too. From the beginning. For as long as you live. And Donghyuck is making you happy, and you know well that Donghyuck will make you happy in the long run. The last two months of whatever game you’re playing had been fun. There was no agreement on being exclusive, no rules of some sort, and it all fell into place like you and him are supposed to end up like this. You hadn’t put a label on it, but you and Donghyuck are best friends for many years now. You went through growing pains together, survived each one of the flights you frequently took around the world, went to the same college together, and you don’t really see the point of rushing for a label now.

Because you have other things in mind other than what you feel right now. You have codes to master and board directors to impress. Donghyuck has auditions to pass and flights to catch as well, and now, an opportunity in Shanghai. Not to mention you’re both cramming to have the best credentials to get you the best job after graduation. Now is not really the best time.

So, just like many happenstances in your life, you come up with a stupid, stupid answer.

"I—I don't know, Donghyuck," you say nervously. "I mean, you're clearly making me happy. And I don't plan on seeing anyone else, but I haven't really gotten around to think about it."

Donghyuck takes his touch away all of a sudden. You reach out to hold his hands in place back to your face, but he lets go.

"Think about it?" Donghyuck asks, voice shaking. "What is there to think about? It's a simple question, Y/N. Do you want me for a long time or am I just some good fuck for you?"

"Donghyuck, why are you saying that?" you retort, angry now. "I just said you make me happy. And I'm not playing with you. I just—it's—with all the things going on in my life and yours, a relationship is not something I can maintain right now."

"Maintain?" Donghyuck chuckles, pulling his hands away, gently pushing you off his lap and standing away from your bed to put some space between you and him. "Y/N, we've been best friends since we were in high school. Literally nothing has changed for us except we kiss and fuck now. What is there to think about? I really do not understand."

You sigh. The sound of it makes Donghyuck pull away further until he’s picking up his backpack.

"Donghyuck, wait," You say, but Donghyuck is already out of his room, barefoot, his shoes in his hands.

Barefoot, his shoes in one hand, two bottles of beer on the other, Donghyuck finds you by the pool outside the wedding reception. He sits beside you and mimics the way you rolled the bottom of your dress up to your thighs so it doesn’t get wet and does the same with his expensive trousers.

“What are you doing out here?” you muse, eyes staring blankly at the way your feet look blurred out underwater. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting drunk and having the time of your life?”

Donghyuck chuckles, his cheeks painted like cherries, mouth glazed like strawberries, and hands you the cold bottle of beer. “I’m already drunk. Do you think I’d have the courage to come find you here if I was sober?”

You nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Good point. Fun party?”

“Jaemin and Jeno never fail to organize the best party,” he stammers. “They used to invite everyone in their shared apartment to play the American games they learned from Johnny-hyung. I can’t believe they’re married now.”

Jaemin and Jeno, the very reason why all of you gathered after all these years, have always been destined for each other, and you know this because you’d seen them start off as nothing and watched them turn to everything. Their wedding had been the sole reason why you’d returned to Seoul.

“I always knew they’d end up together,” you mutter, drinking from the cold bottle. “I used to manifest it. I said it all the time I saw them together.”

Donghyuck giggles. “You used to believe in the law of attraction so much. You manifested everything that’s happened in your life.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you reply, tasting the bitterness coming from the drink, a reminder why you prefer any other drink aside from beer.

It’s quite for a minute until Donghyuck talks.

“Why didn’t you manifest us?” he says suddenly, words a little grumbled. He’s probably had too much to drink already. You hold onto him naturally as his head starts swaying until his head is leaning against your shoulder, close enough to hear each other breathing. “Y/N, why did you never say we’d end up together like this, too? You were so damn good with this law of attraction bullshit. You could’ve manifested our wedding, too.”

Donghyuck is drunk, and drunk Donghyuck is always vulnerable. His tone of voice is enough for you to decide to cut this trip shorter than it already is. A week, you had promised Jeno and Jaemin, you’d leave two days after the wedding. But at this moment, when you’re frozen in place, Donghyuck’s warmth touching your coldness, you begin to ponder if it had been a good idea to come back in Seoul at all.

You love Jeno and Jaemin and would do anything for them in a heartbeat. Therefore, when the couple announced their engagement two months ago, it had been a quick, solid yes, of course, I’ll be there because you wouldn’t miss their wedding for the world, even if it had been exactly four years and two months since the last time you’d breathed the air of Seoul and that you’d rather die than be in a 12-hour flight, you swore you’d be with your friends during such a huge chapter of their lives.

Your schedules were immediately reconstructed, a ticket to Seoul safely tucked in the files in your desk’s drawer, and all your friends from London were already asking you to bring something back from Seoul when your trip is over. It was all set, with the promise of checking in with your teammates from work during your one-week leave, and it was the easiest itinerary you’d ever made. What you failed to prepare, truly, is yourself.

Somehow, you knew this would happen. You knew coming back would mean seeing Donghyuck. And seeing Donghyuck means opening wounds you’re not certain have healed and resuming conversations you’d never wanted to go back to. And this means, at any given time Donghyuck is within your space, you’d be a goner.

Because four years, it turns out, isn’t enough to get over him.

Quite funny, if you think about it now, how after all these years, you’re still orbiting around him.

You clear your throat, no words coming out, and Donghyuck starts to fall asleep against your shoulder.

Your right shoulder feels sore after falling asleep on your side on Chenle’s couch the morning after Jaemin and Jeno’s bachelor party. It was crazy, to say the least, and you’d decided to drink your guts to in hopes of not remembering anything in the morning. It sucks because you’re stupidly hungover and you remember everything.

The group was divided into two. You, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Minjeong were in charge of Jaemin in the other side of the city, courtesy of Jung Jaehyun for sponsoring and personally planning the grand party for his favorite dongsaeng. Meanwhile, Jisung, Chenle, Mark, and Jimin had planned Jeno’s very own party, along with Lee Taeyong who funded the event.

If you’re being completely honest, you’d think that after college, your friends would lose their sparks in setting up amazing parties, but last night proved you wrong.

The alcohol was disgusting, but you like that it made Renjun do things he wouldn’t do sober. Jaemin refused to get shit-faced drunk because his wedding is in two days, his hangovers usually last an entire day—he doesn’t want to show up at his own wedding looking like a zombie. Minjeong, well, she’s Minjeong, so she was just all over the place, nagging and getting drunk. She’s also a snob who thinks so highly of herself despite being the youngest in the group and liked to look down on her older friends all while attempting to stand upright after downing five shots of tequila.

Donghyuck, however, decided to bring his new girlfriend. Her name is Lia. And the only goal last night was to stay as far away as possible.

You knew that the relationship was new because Jisung filled you in before you had all parted ways for the parties, said that Donghyuck started dating her two months ago right around the time Jaemin and Jeno got engaged, Jimin being their bridge because Lia and Jimin have been friends since last year. Apparently, Lia’s been interested with him for years now; she just never had the chance because like you, Donghyuck also disappeared in and out from Seoul for a couple of years until he’d decided to stay here for good two years ago.

You can’t remember how many shots you had and how many cocktails were handed to you last night, but you wish you had more because it was evidently not enough to erase the scenarios from last night. It wasn’t enough to blur out the memories of Donghyuck holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, and just all out being a lovey-dovey boyfriend.

It’s a relief that you got home safely. There was no designated driver because the plan was to really get drunk, so Jaehyun had one of his employees drive everyone to Chenle’s penthouse because it’s the closest. You hope the others returned to Jeno’s place safely, too.

You stay still from where you’re lying down, eyes up on the ceiling, wondering what time it is. There was no plan for today aside from wedding rehearsal at six in the evening to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow, so you reckon you have the entire day to get rid of your hangover.

You roll over to your side, facing the television, and the clock tells you it’s eleven in the morning. Renjun is snoring away from the other couch, and you remember letting Minjeong sleep on your bed for the night. You’re staring at Renjun’s sleeping form when someone on the carpeted floor suddenly rolls over, allowing you to see their face.

Donghyuck’s sleeping on the floor beside the couch, body parallel to yours so you can see his peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly agape. He’s now sleeping on his back, head supported by one of the cushions, body covered with his jacket from last night. You remember parting ways with him with him last night. He’d taken a taxi with Lia back to her place while the rest of you went home in Jaehyun’s SUV. You don’t remember him coming back here.

You stare at him for as long as you can, because in the last three days in Seoul, you’d never really gotten the chance to get a good look on him. You and him don’t follow each other from any social media, so the last four years had truly been radio silence from both sides. Donghyuck, at 27, doesn’t look like he’s aged that much, albeit his round cheeks being gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones. It looks like he never bothered to get rid of the constellations forming on his face and neck, too, because they’re still here, just like many things that haven’t changed. Donghyuck used to love dyeing his hair crazy colors, now his hair is just colored naturally. His lips, wonder if they still taste the same.

“He’s going to melt,” Renjun says suddenly, you plop your head back to the couch, guilty for staring too long. Renjun sits up, stretching and laughing at your misery. “And you’re going to have a heart attack if you keep sneaking glances and getting caught. How many times has Jisung caught you in the last 72 hours?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, getting up and stretching as well. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

You carefully get off from the couch, making sure you don’t topple on Donghyuck’s sleeping body, draping the blanket over his body, walking towards Chenle’s fancy kitchen. Renjun helps you, rummaging through the fridge, and comes up with a breakfast menu with whatever you had in the kitchen.

Donghyuck wakes up before you and Renjun could finish cooking everything. He’s quiet when he approaches you in the kitchen, softly asking if you could make coffee for him. You don’t say no, of course.

“This is the most disgusting cup of coffee, I’ve had my entire life,” Donghyuck complains, leaning over the counter where you’re working on the opposite side of. “Stop jeopardizing the café’s reputation. You’re not some scientist so stop mixing concoctions from hell just to brag that you’re a part-time barista and a full-time college student. You make me sick. Literally.”

You ignore all of it, of course, eyebrows furrowed as you take another sip of the quote and quote disgusting coffee, trying to figure out what went wrong this time.

“I think it needs a bit more vanilla,” you think out loud.

“I will not join you in this stupid crusade of making your own “Barista’s Special” recipe,” he continues. “And I will tell your manager you’re wasting coffee!”

“Aha!” you exclaim when you think you got it right. “Maybe I need to level the grounds better and add another pump of vanilla. Let me try that. It should taste better.”

Donghyuck chuckles as you move around and attempt to make another cup. “You’ve been saying it should taste better since last week.”

He keeps complaining, but takes the new cup of coffee as soon as you’re done.

Donghyuck drinks.

You wait.

It still tastes disgusting.

“It’s sweet,” Donghyuck comments when he drinks it. You tilt your head. Renjun is finishing up on the scrambled eggs. You hear Minjeong come out of your room.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head, chuckling. “Better than the ones you made when we were in university.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I was awarded employee of the month once!”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you forced me to drink your disgusting concoctions for three weeks straight,” he states, making you laugh even more. “I guess, all these years you’d learned what you were missing.”

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against Donghyuck’s chest. “The internship will just be for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Donghyuck kisses the top of your head. “When you come back,” he mutters. “When you come back, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You freeze.

“And you’ll say yes. And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

You pull away a little so that you’re looking at him face to face. Donghyuck has tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You wipe it off with the sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“I’ll say yes,” you promise. “And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

A woman’s voice announces your flight number once again and says the gates are closing in five minutes. Donghyuck kisses you in the mouth—a promise—and tells you he loves you.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say. “I love you, too.”

“Come back home to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

Yours and Donghyuck’s favorite restaurant was located two blocks away from his parents’ home. It closed a few years ago when its owner passed away and his children were too heartbroken to keep the business running. It was a staple from your entire high school life, and if you could say it, it defined your standards when it comes to food.

You’d just gotten a call from home that your childhood pet had to be put down because of old age and many diseases, and you called in sick for work—thank God, Johnny was willing to cover for you otherwise the manager would’ve rejected your request to stay at home for the day—and you’re truly not in the mood for anything at all.

You haven’t been home for quite sometime now, the last time being the holidays and you normally just spend a couple of days before heading back to the campus, so everything really sucks. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Donghyuck hears this from Jimin, of course, because your roommate called him as soon as she heard you crying from your room. He literally carries you out of your room, says grieving is better when there’s food.

As soon as you see the person standing behind the counter, you recognize the place right away. Although located in a different street now, nearby where you are, the place looks exactly the same from when it did years ago.

“Y/N! Donghyuckie!” the lady behind the counter greets.

“Oh my,” you squeal. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’re back in business! How long has it been?”

The new owner, the late owner’s eldest daughter, smiles at you and tells you they re-opened sometime this year. She tells you to find a seat and confirms she knew your order by heart.

Donghyuck sits across you. “You like it?”

“Why did you not take me here sooner?”

He smiles. “Supposedly on your birthday a couple of weeks from now. But with what happened today, I guess this is the best time.”

“You’re the best.”

It’s Jisung and Chenle who find you and Donghyuck by the pool area hours later. Donghyuck had completely fallen asleep on your shoulder. The younger ones help you and practically carry Donghyuck towards the car.

Jaemin and Jeno have left the venue so they could prepare for their flight the next day. You hadn’t paid much attention to the time when Donghyuck drunkenly approached you. Jisung tells you it’s already two in the morning.

Chenle tells you Donghyuck had broken up with Lia—the reason, he’s uncertain—which is why she stormed off from the reception and Donghyuck decided to drink his ass off while you were wandering around the place. You shrug, acknowledging the news like it doesn’t make your heart race, like it doesn’t give you some sort of hope you didn’t know you had stored, and tell them they should take him home.

Jisung says Donghyuck lives on the other side of the city, so it’s best you all head back to Chenle’s.

Jisung and Chenle share the latter’s bed, and you’re not going to let Donghyuck sleep on the couch after he had complained about his back hurting when he’d fallen asleep on the floor the other day, so it’s only right that you let Jisung and Chenle carry him to your bed.

When you wake up on the couch the next day, Donghyuck’s shoes are no longer by the doorsteps.

His footsteps are loud.

“Donghyuck, this isn’t going to work if you don’t fucking give me a chance to explain!” You scream a few feet behind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck is running away, and you’re beginning to think that convincing him to go to the gym might not have been the greatest decision because Donghyuck is literally sprinting, like he’s being chased by something so terrifying.

You almost stop. Donghyuck, who always called him home, never ran away from you all these years. Not, it looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where you. Nothing feels worse than that.

You’d just gotten back from your internship in the US, one more term and you’re graduating. The internship was easily the best thing that’s happened to you this year. They were already thinking of offering you a contract as soon as you graduate. They let you go back home, of course, to complete your degree, and said they’d be willing to keep training you in the states and have you relocate to Europe once you graduate because they’ll be expanding their business out there.

It's also the night of Donghyuck's first showcase, the first show he's headlining along with musicians and artists from different universities. You had promised Donghyuck you’d watch and support him, but things doesn't always go on your favor, because as soon as you’d landed, you were needed back to the campus for an interview for the university’s publishing team because they wanted you to talk about your experience alongside the others who went to the states to complete their internship. It was supposed to be an hour session, but you and everyone in the panel liked the questions they were asking, and somehow you felt like this was a sign that the company in the US could lead to better, brighter things for you.

Hence, you were late. Halfway through the show. Donghyuck got mad, but promised he understood. He asked for some space, at least for the rest of the night. But you wanted to apologize properly, to take him out for dinner even if it's already past midnight, and insisted that you should talk about it. Donghyuck refused, you kept insisting, until the former said something about you being a shitty girlfriend.

It’s a shitty excuse, but you were absolutely fucking tired. You’re still jetlagged from the 16-hour difference, and the entire session with your fellow interns took two hours of your day.

What you had left for the day was so little, and you chose to spend it with Donghyuck, but he decided to be an ass about it.

"I never said anything about being your girlfriend," was your dumb reply, which is why you’re now running after him from the building of Chenle’s condominium.

You pull Donghyuck with force as soon as you catch up with him, and you’re faced with your worst fear.

Donghyuck is crying. He’s never cried before, not because of you. A deep painful breath comes out of your mouth, and it hurts when you breathe, like inhaling a cloud of smoke or being hit by a ball in the back. Donghyuck keeps crying, doesn’t even hide it. He sobs and heaves and he doesn’t wipe his tears.

"Donghyuck, can you just—”

“I’m tired,” Donghyuck sobs. “Y/N, I’m so tired. I sound pathetic and I’m not sure if I’m exhausted from the performance or I’m just done with you.”

“I’m sorry,” is all what you could come up with.

“This,” Donghyuck says, gesturing the small space between you. “I don’t think it’s worth all of the pain I am feeling right now, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I—I, fuck, I used to think that maybe someday this will all be worth it, but I am tired of waiting for that day. I am drained and you have consumed all of me. I waited for you, and I keep waiting until you finally just—let go and decide you want to be with me and stop playing this never-ending game of friends with benefits bullshit we started. I’m done. What else do you want from me?”

“I—I… Donghyuck,” you stutter. I want you to give me a chance. I want you to give me more time to figure some things out myself. I want you to wait a little longer.

"I rejected Ryujin a week before you came home,” Donghyuck confesses. "When you were in the states, and you suddenly changed your mind about being my girlfriend and told me I should go out and date other people and that I shouldn’t hold myself back, I was angry. I didn’t understand why you were pushing me away so much when I’m here!”

You stay still, crying.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here and I love you, and I’ve never asked anything in return. And you tell me you love me, but you do things that—that hurt me. Every time I think we’re finally going somewhere, you—you push back and I’m just—I’m sick of it. And Jaemin said I should just move on if you can’t make up your mind because I don’t know if you haven’t realized it but Y/N, we’ve been at it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeno and Jaemin set me up with Ryujin,” he continues. “We went to a couple of dates. And then you called me saying you’re coming back home. So, I broke it off before we even got started. I told her it would be unfair if I kept leading her on when I know that I am still ridiculously in love with you. She said it would be alright and that she's giving me all the time and space I need to think about things."

Donghyuck curses and continues, "But I didn't need time and space, Y/N. Because I already knew that all I've ever wanted was you. I didn't need to think. I only needed you."

You don’t know what to say. You’re still holding him by his arm.

“If you're not going to say anything, let me go,” Donghyuck sternly says. You have a feeling it’s not the grip on his arm that Donghyuck is talking about. “Please.”

The single biggest mistake of your life happened on the third street from Chenle’s place, under the broken streetlight, across the ice cream parlor Donghyuck used to work at when he was seventeen.

You let him go. Donghyuck stops waiting.

The wait from the audience was long enough.

They say your graduation day is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life. It’s not. Not at all.

Not when you’d gotten your diploma on stage and Donghyuck shows you he doesn’t give a fuck by looking everywhere else. Not when it’s picture taking time with your friends and families and he decides to stand on the other side, far, far away from you. Not when his parents ask him to take a picture with you and he shrugs it off and says he’s hungry and that he’s meeting everyone at the restaurant, leaving with his entire family.

Renjun whispers, “Does he even know you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

You shrug it off, too. “Looks like he has other things to care about.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re not serious about this, are you? You and Donghyuck better pull your shit together. Both of you already ruined the moment for everyone.”

Renjun eyes him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to listen, then so be it.”

“It’s not Donghyuck’s fault either,” Jaemin defends. “Because he’s been trying to get answers and you wouldn’t give it to him. So, I don’t think it’s his fault that he’s done.”

“We’re not picking sides here, Jaemin,” Jeno says. “Let’s go.”

Jeno and Jaemin sandwiches you in a tight hug.

The next day after the wedding, in the afternoon, the newlyweds are bound to France for their honeymoon. They’re traveling the continent for two weeks (unfortunately, London excluded from their itinerary), and all of you decided to drop them off as if they’re leaving for years. In your case, this may be the last time you’re seeing them for a long time.

“I love you,” Jaemin says as the two very strong and buff men hug you. “I know things have been tough and coming back here took a lot from you, but thank you for making sure you were present during the wedding.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time in another four years that we’d see you in person,” Jeno adds. “We miss you, you know? Please come visit us when you have time.”

“I love you two so much,” you cry, emotional with the way they’re holding you. “Go have fun.”

They bid their goodbyes to everyone else and enter the airport.

“If I don’t get the same treatment when I leave, I’m ghosting everyone,” Mark announces. Jisung laughs. “What? You all acted like they’re going away for two years. They’re coming back in literally and exactly two weeks!”

“Go be unhappy somewhere, hyung,” Donghyuck teases, making everyone laugh as you all walk back to where their cars are parked.

Chenle needs to go back to work, so did Jimin and Jisung, hence they ride all together. Minjeong’s visiting a friend, so she’s riding with Mark and Renjun because they’re all going to the same side of the city. Which means, Donghyuck is driving you back to Chenle’s place.

“Your flight is tomorrow, too, right?” Mark asks. You hum, nodding. “Come visit me in Vancouver sometime soon, too. Or I’ll fly to London.”

“Wow, you have a lot of money to spend on flying around the world multiple times, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the frequent flyer here,” he comments. “Wonder how many miles you’ve earned and redeemed from all this flying you’ve done in this lifetime.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

Renjun and the others bid you goodbye. You’re not really certain why you and Donghyuck silently agreed to watch your friends leave, you and him standing a foot away from each other as they all drive away. For some reason, it feels like the last time.

The first time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s an accident.

You were drunk, and it had been a while for the two of you considering how busy you both have been because of finals coming up. It was convenient, if you say so yourself, to have your best friend right beside you when you were feeling hot and horny. The morning after was settled with a kiss on your forehead—no apologies as discussed, because neither you nor him regretted it anyway, but there’s a promise that nothing changes.

The second time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s not going to be a one-time thing.

“So, to make it clear,” you huff as you quickly get rid of your pants while Donghyuck pulls his shirt off. “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“I don’t see an issue if it’s not,” he replies, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, pushing you against the wall and kissing you down your neck. “Besides, we’re best friends.”

You lean your head against the wall, thinking if it’s too late to back out, but Donghyuck’s already has his hands all over you—one on your breast and the other on your waist. It’s not really that bad of an idea. Donghyuck is your best friend, and your friendship has withstood time, distance, growing pains, and mostly everything. And perhaps it’s the way you haven’t stopped thinking about your first time together that’s making you feel so, so vulnerable under his touch, but it’s not like anything’s changed since that night. In fact, if you’re being completely honest, it made you feel like you and Donghyuck know each other better now—in ways that other pairs like you don’t.

Hence, whatever thought you had a minute ago, you throw it down the drain and you let Donghyuck (messily, heartedly giggling) carry you by hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and bring you back to his unmade bed.

Donghyuck knows how to use his tongue, and you’ve kind of always known because all the girls he’s ever slept with talk about him like he’s a god of tongue or something. Donghyuck licks your lips before diving in, as if he’s giving you a taste of what you’re about to have, and he pushes his tongue in, massaging it with yours, and it almost feels like he’s teaching you how to use the muscle in your mouth. You realize how much he likes kissing, because he kisses more than he touches. He kisses you for what felt like hours, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You let him gently drop you on his bed. His warm palms caressing its way from your waist down to the side of your thighs where he knows you like being touched the most (and you’re not certain whether he’d learned this from stories or from the time you and him had sex); Donghyuck keeps his mouth on you as he rubs circles against your hot skin.

The finger he slips between your underwear and right above your clit sends you shivers down your spine. He allows you to catch your breath for a second, moving his mouth from your lips down to your neck, but doesn’t give you enough time to recover because he rubs your clit oh, so gently.

“We’re best friends,” he repeats, murmuring the words against the skin on your neck. “Nothing changes, except now I know where to touch you.”

He does. He touches you everywhere and slips his middle finger in your hole, sighing against your skin when he feels how wet you’ve gotten simply from kissing.

“You’ve always been such a good girl for me,” he whispers, keeping his finger inside, his palm pressed against your clit. “Such a good girl. Wet and ready for me. You really are my best friend.”

“Donghyuck,” you whine. He starts rubbing from inside, moving a single finger in an upward motion, eliciting a moan from you.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You are. You are my best friend. I don’t think everyone can say they let their best friends fuck them when they’re horny. Which makes me the best best friend, too. Because I fuck the brains out of you when you’re horny. Aren’t we the best team the world has ever seen?”

Donghyuck slips another finger in—easily, because nothing can describe how we you are now. He tongues the skin on your collarbone, licking and tasting and smirking all throughout, then he fingers you properly. At this point, your underwear’s stretched from one thigh to the other.

Donghyuck likes to tease you, and you know this because he massages the inside of your hole in a swift upward motion before pulling his fingers out and slowly filling you again. He does this slowly, then fast, then slowly once again. The explicit sound of your wetness makes him chuckle, leaving your collarbones and using his other hand to pull the left cup of your bra down and goes in. He bites and nips and licks and sucks your breast while he fingers you stupid—legs apart, shamelessly wet and fucking ready for him—and you take everything he gives you.

He doesn’t make you cum though, because Donghyuck is Donghyuck. Nobody is more cunning than him.

But he doesn’t make you wait. As soon as he feels you’re about to cum, he slips his fingers out and rids himself off his own underwear, then slipping the last two pieces barely hanging on your body.

He fucks you dumb. Raw. All his glory and skin. You have no other words aside from that.

He doesn’t wait because there’s truly no need to adjust with how wet and ready you fucking are. He’s big, but Donghyuck knows how to fuck well. He knows how to prevent discomfort and he’s done a very good job at proving that to you.

He fucks you missionary, and usually, this isn’t something you’d opt for. You like being fucked hard with no sense of affection and all that bullshit when you’re stressed and in need of some kind of relief. But with Donghyuck, it’s heavenly despite how sinful his hips snap.

He fucks you. Again and again. He makes you cum twice before he pulls out and spills himself on your stomach.

He kisses you, giggles at the way you’re dumbfounded, cleans you up, and lets you sleep on his bed as though nothing has changed.

Because nothing did. Nothing ever will.

“Funny how things have changed so much in the last four years, huh?” Donghyuck asks, eyes on the road.

Donghyuck’s said he’s driving you home. You haven’t been in Seoul in four years, but the route he’s taking is definitely not the way to Chenle’s.

“We’re taking the long way home,” he interjects when he realizes you’re looking at the GPS on his car’s tablet. “There’s, uh, heavy traffic on the usual way because of some road construction. And you’re going back tomorrow. You haven’t really gone around the city, so I figured it’d be a good time.”

You hum, looking at him with a small smile.

“Sure,” you buy. “It feels like only yesterday you were driving a beat-up Hyundai. Now, you’re all fancy.”

He chuckles, turning as his car speeds through the bridge. “Well, many things have changed since you left.”

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: Seoul’s horizon running like a movie as he drives, smile soft, eyes bright.

“I’m sorry,” you brave up.

It takes you great courage to say it out loud. As best friends, you and Donghyuck had always said “thank you,” and “I love you” openly, and in countless of occasions, these words have healed scratches made around your friendship. Rarely you and him would ever say you’re sorry. The only time you can remember apologizing to him was the night, a few weeks before graduation when you’d just returned from the States after your internship. That sorry barely made up the wounds you’d caused.

At this age, you understand why saying sorry wasn’t normal for you and Donghyuck. You and him were inseparable. You were soulmates—are if you can bravely say it out loud. Your bond is stronger with him than anyone else, and you’d always believed that nothing could ever come between you and him. Like the decisions you’d made, nothing changed until something did. And when things changed, you and him had no idea what to do. Because as far as you can remember, you and Donghyuck remained constant, like a routine, a bible with a comprehensive and cohesive series of stories that’s never changed. So, when feelings got in between—denial and pining and confusion—neither of you had any idea how to handle it.

Donghyuck was bold and brave. You, on the other hand, had no ounce of courage to give it a try.

He only smiles. “A few years too late, don’t you think?”

You nod. “I know. Do you accept my apology?”

“If you buy me ice cream,” he answers.

“Done,” you say, smiling back at him. “I was scared.”

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on the road. “Of?”

“That I’d come back to Seoul and see you married with kids and all.”

“And what’s so scary about that?”

“Because it would mean I’d thrown away all the chances the universe has given me.”

Donghyuck looks ethereal like this: in a suit, smiling as he watches his bride walk down the aisle.

“Take care, yeah?” Renjun whispers as he hugs you.

Mark’s Dad and Mark himself are waiting for you outside. As most of your friends have gone home to their families after graduation, with the exception of Renjun and Jisung who spared some time today just to see you off, Mark volunteered (his dad) to drop you off the airport.

“I will,” you say, burying your face into his chest. “Any word from Donghyuck?”

Renjun pulls away and looks down. You know the answer.

“It’s okay,” you answer, mostly to yourself. “He’ll call me back soon. I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mumbles.

The only call you get before you enter the gates is a drunken one. It’s Donghyuck.

“I hate you,” he grits through the device. “And I never want to see you again.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you confess. Donghyuck keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “Because you’d said you never wanted to see me again.”

“And I sent you messages you never received,” Donghyuck says. It surprises you. “Because your Korean number was no longer active and you’d blocked me from everything at that time.”

You smile, wondering if you had a little bit more understanding—if you had waited a little before deactivating your old number, if you had given it some time—would you and Donghyuck end up together in the end? If Donghyuck hadn’t been drunk the night you left Seoul—if he’d taken a taxi before you boarded the plane, if he’d just said sorry back—would you and him have gotten into a relationship right away?

Regret, just like grief, makes you feel things like this. They make you wonder what could have happened, if it would’ve given you the same, awful outcome, or if it would take you to the happy ending you keep dreaming about.

“Funny how we had many things we couldn’t say despite us being best friends,” he comments. “And you agree that many things have changed in the last four years, right?”

You hum, looking out your window, watching the horizon blur in motion.

“Donghyuck-ah,” you whisper, eyes still on the moving horizon. “The only thing that hasn’t changed for me.”

“What?” he asks.

“You,” you say. “You’re the only one that hasn’t changed for me. You’re still sharp when you need to be, but gentle where people you love need you to be. You’re still beautiful like the day I had realized I loved you. It wasn’t shocking, though. That day. I wasn’t all too shocked that your newly-dyed pink hair was the eureka moment for me. Because I knew all along. It was more like a flick on the wrist rather than a surprise. Like it’s always been there. The pink hair was just a reminder.”

Donghyuck stays quiet.

“And I say this like I’m hoping I could go back to four years ago and try harder to apologize,” you continue, tears already brimming your eyes. “But I guess we needed this, Donghyuck. We needed to grow—sadly—apart. And I feel like, no, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten to know myself better if we didn’t grow apart.”

“Yeah,” he speaks for what seems like a long time. “We were—you were right all along. We couldn’t just risk it all for a relationship. I had offers left and right even before we’d graduated, and you.”

You look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes are carefully still on the road, but his gaze is soft, eyes shining from the tears welling up.

“You were made to see the world,” he says, and it breaks you like glass. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were the reason why you don’t have the life you have now. Because it wouldn’t have worked. I love you, and I just know that at that time, when we were young and all, I wouldn’t have let you go work abroad. The few months you spent in the state for a mere internship already shook our friendship in ways we didn’t expect. What more if we had been in a relationship?”

“Donghyuck,” you sniffle. “I love you. And it hurt. And I’m sorry it us this long. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“Stop apologizing. Y/N, I would’ve let you go eventually,” he confesses. “Because I love you so much that I’d be willing to let you go if it meant you could soar.”

The sun sets in the horizon the next time you look out your window.

Donghyuck keeps one hand on the wheel and shows you the other, palm up.

You take it with courage.

And you. You look beautiful like this: dressed in white, smiling as you walk towards your groom. You best friend. Donghyuck.

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