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literaryavenger · 2 months

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Birthday Kiss

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday and he decides to spend it with his best friend, Steve, and Steve's little sister, you.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Brother!Steve Rogers x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Idiots in love. Fluff. Vague mentions to sex. Language 'cause I can't help myself. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.4K

Prompt: "So what should I say?" "when?" "when I love someone." "you should say it"

A/N: Since it's almost Bucky's birthday I wanted to celebrate it with my first fic with 40s Bucky! He's one of my favorite Buckys and I've been wanting to write about him for a while and I finally got this idea! Hope someone enjoys it! In my mind this happens like a year before Captain America: The First Avenger, so Bucky is turning 25, Steve is 23 and the Reader is 21, but you can always imagine any age you want. As always, any ideas for fics are appreciated!

Masterlist

You enter the room to see Bucky is hanging out in yours and Steve's apartment, like he always does, sitting down at the window, smoking a cigarette and reading the evening newspaper while a football game plays on the television in the living room and Steve sits on the couch, drawing on his notebook.

You're used to Bucky being here, he's your big brother's best friend and you've come to be very close friends with him too, even if you wished there was more.

As clichè as it is to have a crush on your brother's best friend, you couldn't help it. He was handsome and funny, and he's always sweet and protective of you.

You've known him since you were 9 years old, and he's the only family you have left other than Steve.

"Is this really how you're going to spend your birthday?" You ask Bucky as you sit on the couch next to Steve.

Bucky turns around towards you with a bright smile, his blue eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you, like they always do whenever he's around you.

He puts out the cigarette and stands up, walking over to you, sitting down on your other side and pulling you into a side hug.

"Hey, doll. I didn't think you were gonna be here today." He says, although he seems more happily surprised by your presence than disappointed.

"I live here, Barnes." You tease him with a smile. "Unlike you."

He rolls his eyes playfully as Steve snickers next to you while he keeps drawing. "I know that. I meant, I thought you were gonna be out with your friends tonight."

"I didn't feel like it." You dismiss him quickly, not wanting to actually say out loud that you'd rather spend his birthday with him doing nothing than go out with your friends, so you try to casually change the subject. "I thought you'd at least want to spend today with Dot."

Dot isn't actually Bucky's girlfriend, they've been on a few dates and you've seen them together a couple of times, but Bucky introduced her to you as a friend so you don't think they're that serious.

Not that Bucky ever is, girls are always all over him and he takes advantage of that. He's a ladies man.

But you try not to worry too much about his love life, not wanting to hurt yourself more than knowing Bucky will never see you like that already does.

"Well, I wanted to spend my birthday with my favorite pair of siblings. She can give me my birthday kiss tomorrow." He says with a grin while ruffling your hair.

"So... What's been going on with you lately, doll? Anything interesting happening in your life?" He asks curiously after a pause, genuinely wanting to know more about your day-to-day activities and experiences.

"I... Well, I went on my first date." You say shyly while playing with the edge of your dress.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, his interest piqued by your sudden confession. "First date? Who was it with? How'd it go?" He asks with what seems like excitement but mentally preparing himself to potentially become jealous or possessive no matter who you mention.

"It was fine..." You say quietly, still not looking at him. "It just wasn't... It wasn't what I was expecting..."

Bucky senses something off in your tone and expression, and immediately becomes concerned. He places a gentle hand on your knee, trying to comfort you without making it too obvious.

"What happened, doll? Did things not go as well as you hoped they would? Are you feeling okay?" He asks softly, trying to gauge whether or not you want to open up about what happened during your date and if there's anything he can do to make it better.

You don't really know how to answer his question, so you don't, simply glancing at him before looking away and shrugging.

"Tell me what happened, I'm here for you no matter what. If that guy hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable, I'll kick his ass for sure." He promises fiercely, his protective instincts kicking into high gear whenever you seem vulnerable or upset.

You giggle weakly at his protectiveness but still don't look at him, so he takes your chin gently but firmly and makes you look at him. "Tell me what happened on your date. Was it some creep who tried to grope you or something worse? Because if he did, I swear to god I will find him and break his fucking legs."

"That's not it, Bucky." You say quickly. "It's just... He just... He wasn't..." You. He wasn't you. That's what you want to tell him, but you can't, so you sigh and shrug again. "He just wasn't my type."

Bucky knew what was your type. He knew he was your type, he has seen you ogle him countless times when he walked past you or sat near you.

He also knew that you had never shown any interest in any of the men who approached you, always dismissing them as not good enough for you. Or at least that's why he thought you did.

Glancing at Steve before looking back at you again, Bucky says quietly. "Well, that's too bad for him I guess."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not seeing him again." I say quietly, avoiding both Steve and Bucky's eyes.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, he couldn't believe you were so quick to give up on a potential relationship just because the guy didn't live up to your impossible standards.

"Doll, you gotta give guys more of a chance. They ain't all as bad as you seem to think they are." He scolds you playfully, but there was also a hint of underlying irritation in his tone as he takes a long sip from his beer bottle.

You glance at him before looking away again. "So... You think I should go on another date with that guy?" You ask quietly.

Bucky thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of pushing you to go on another date with the mystery guy. "Yeah, actually. I mean, if you think he's worth giving a second chance, then why not? And if he turns out to be a total dud again, then at least you can say you gave it a shot. But only if you're really sure he's worth your time though. Don't waste it on some loser who doesn't appreciate everything you have to offer."

He advised you, trying to strike a balance between being supportive and challenging you to take risks when it came to relationships. "But whatever you decide, don't let me pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. You've gotta follow your heart, doll."

"You know, Stevie doesn't care this much about who I date, and he's my older brother." You tease Bucky while glancing at Steve.

Bucky snorts in amusement, "Yeah well, I'm not your brother, sweetheart, but I'm your friend and your wingman, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit back and watch you throw away a potential chance to be happy. Now come on, make up your mind already. Are you gonna give the guy another chance or not?" He pressed, playfully but determinedly.

You look at his face for a moment before looking away again and sighing. "I'm not." You say quietly but firmly. "I'm not going on a second date with that guy." You clarify.

Bucky felt his jaw tighten a little as he realized that you had completely ignored his previous suggestion and were instead deciding against giving the guy a second chance.

He didn't like the idea of you potentially missing out on something good due to your own stubbornness, but he also knew that he couldn't force you to do anything you didn't truly want to do.

"Well, fuck. Guess that settles that then," He said after a moment of silence, trying to hide his disappointment but failing miserably. "You're really gonna just throw that opportunity away? Fine, suit yourself, I guess. But don't expect me to hold your hand or anything when you get sad because you're alone. You're on your own with that shit."

"I guess I am." You say quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the window, climbing into the emergency staircase to go up to the roof, like you do most nights to watch the stars.

Bucky watches you leave, feeling a mix of frustration and concern as he realizes that you're retreating to your usual spot on the roof rather than staying and talking to him.

He wants to call after you, to make sure you're okay, but he knows better than to push you if you need time alone.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the present moment, reminding himself that sometimes people need space and time to themselves.

"Fine. Have it your way," he calls after you, knowing that there isn't much else he can do in this situation. "But don't think for a second that I won't be keeping an eye on you up there. You better not try anything stupid."

You roll your eyes but don't stop, going up to the roof, that's right above yours and Steve's apartment, and sitting on the picnic blanket you and Steve use every night.

After a few minutes someone else comes to the roof and you can tell it's Steve by the light steps. "You sure you want to let Bucky alone in our apartment, Stevie? I'm afraid he might burn it down." You joke weakly without turning around to look at him, your eyes locked in the city's skyline.

Steve chuckles and you can feel him sitting down next to you. It's not the first time you sit together on the roof, everybody in your apartment building knows this is the Rogers siblings' spot.

You don't say anything and neither does Steve, and you're especially glad he doesn't say anything when he sees a tear falling down your cheek but simply wraps his arm around you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"What's going on in your head, little sis?" Steve asks you after you stop crying.

You try to gather your thoughts, trying to find a way to make sense of everything swirling in your head. You take a deep breath before you pull away slightly and turn your head towards the city again. "What should I say?" You ask quietly.

"When?" Steve asks with a frown.

"When I love someone." I clarify looking back at him.

"You should say it." He tells you firmly. It's not the first time you've talked about this, Steve knows about your feelings for Bucky and like a good big brother he always tells you to express yourself. "You should tell him."

You sigh and look away from him and back to the New York skyline. "I don't know, Stevie..."

"Why not, Bambi?" You smile softly at his use of your childhood nickname because Bambi is your favorite book, but then you shake your head.

"Have you seen the way he looks at Dot? I have no chance with him. I'm not his type." You say with conviction.

"You really don't see it?" Steve ask, getting a little frustrated.

"See what?" You ask confusedly while looking back at him.

"The difference between you and her is that he looks at her like she's the prettiest girl in the world," Steve says and your heart sinks so you look away from him, but he still goes on. "but when he looks at you it's like... It's like maybe you're magic. He looks at you with such reverence and respect. He looks at you like if he could just have you in his arms, everything would be okay. Like if he had you, nothing could touch him. He looks at you like he just realized what love is."

Steve pauses and grabs your chin gently to make you look at him before finishing. "He loves you. Anyone can see that. You're just too blind to notice it."

Steve kisses your forehead and then gets up and goes back inside to the apartment, leaving you to think about everything he said.

You lay down on the picnic towel on the ground of the roof and look up at the stars. Could Steve be right? Does Bucky really love you back but you just haven't noticed?

If Bucky had feelings for you, certainly you would've noticed.

Yes, he's protective of you and he's always happy to have you around, but you've been friends for over a decade and he is your brother's best friend, so he probably sees you as just that. His best friend's sister.

But he never did treat you like Steve's annoying little sister.

Even when you were kids he always tried to include you in their games and literally held your hand whenever the three of you went somewhere, like the park a few blocks over.

He would always coo on you when you got any scrapes while playing and kiss your boo-boos away.

He's always been very sweet to you and he stood up for you as much as he did for Steve whenever someone bothered you.

But could that really be actual love? Or is it just affection for a girl he's known since you were little and sees as his own little sister?

You rub your eyes before putting your hands behind your head, getting comfortable while looking at the sky full of stars.

In the meantime, Bucky heard everything from the window of your apartment.

He couldn't deny the truth of what Steve had said, he did look at you with a sense of reverence and respect, like you held the key to unlocking his heart and making everything else in his life fall into place.

But he also knew that he had to tread carefully, to approach you in the right way or risk scaring you off completely.

As much as he wanted to take control of the situation and make things happen on his terms, he knew that he needed to let you come to him, to give you space to process everything that Steve told you and to allow you time to realize how much you actually mean to him.

As Steve climbs back into the window, he gives Bucky a pointed look and a pat in the back, silently encouraging him to talk to you.

Bucky takes a deep breath and then climbs into the stairs, getting to the roof but not getting any closer to you. He's determined to talk to you, but his nerves are getting the best of him.

You can hear Bucky coming to the roof and when he doesn't move closer you frown slightly but think he's just giving you a moment before sitting next to you.

When he stays put for a couple of minutes, you roll your eyes and with a small smile you say "You can come lay down next to me, if you want." Loudly enough for him to hear, your eyes never leaving the stars above you.

Bucky's heart skips a beat as he hears your invitation, and without hesitation he steps forward and drops down onto the towel beside you.

You can tell he's trying to keep his movements quiet, not wanting to startle you or disturb your peaceful contemplation.

He lays there quietly for a few moments, taking in the sight of you lying there so effortlessly beautiful, before finally speaking.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words coming from your mouth," he whispers and moves closer to you, placing one arm around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, feeling incredibly vulnerable by the fact that you were so physically close and you were allowing him to get even closer.

"Thanks for letting me do this," he added, indicating the embrace.

"It's not the first time we've watched the stars together, Buck..." You whisper back, resting your head on his while willing your heart to stop beating so fast.

Bucky smiles softly, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, feeling incredibly grateful for this moment of intimacy between the two of you.

He can feel the gentle weight of your body against his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He listens to the sound of your breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow down as he takes comfort in your presence.

"Yeah, it's not the first time... But it feels different tonight." He whispers back, feeling a newfound confidence and boldness coursing through his veins.

He moves even closer to you, pressing his face against your neck and inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of your skin. "I've always... I've always wanted to hold you like this."

"I... I always wanted you to..." You whisper back hesitantly and bite your lip when he presses his face against your neck, almost scared to move, worried that if you do it'll ruin the moment.

Bucky feels a surge of pleasure course through his body as he hears your response, knowing that you too cherished these special moments with him.

When you don't say anything at his physical contact he continues to hold you tightly, feeling a deep sense of connection growing between you.

He presses his lips against your neck, gently kissing and nibbling on your skin, feeling a newfound desire burning within him that he had never experienced before.

He wants more than anything to take things further, to remove your clothing and explore every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, but he forces himself to remain patient and wait for your signal that you actually want something more intimate.

"You know... I've always been afraid to show you how much I really care about you," he whispers into your ear, his voice barely audible over the sound of the city below them.

"Steve thinks you love me..." You say quietly, hoping to god that your idiot brother is right for once in his life.

Bucky freezes a little, feeling a mixture of relief and surprise wash over him. He's surprised at your boldness but so relieved that the truth is finally out there.

But he also knows you well enough to know that if he wants you to truly believe that he loves you, then he has to act quickly to prove it to you and make sure that you never doubt his feelings again.

"Yeah... I do love you, Doll. More than anything else in this world. And I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner... But I was afraid to lose you." He admits quietly, as he takes your face in his hands.

"You really mean that?" You ask quietly, a mix of hope and uncertainty clear in your voice.

"I do." He says without hesitation while he looks at your beautiful face turned towards his. "And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I care about you."

The smile that comes to your face is so bright that it feels to Bucky like the sun suddenly came up in the middle of the night.

"I know you already gave me a birthday gift," He says, referring to the jacket you gave him this morning. "But can I ask you for one more?"

You're definitely curious about what he wants so you nod. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you give me a birthday kiss?" He asks quietly while brushing a strand of hair aways from your face and behind your ear.

You blush a little and can't help but smile because he wants a birthday kiss from you, not Dot or any other girl, and you nod slowly as you start leaning in.

Bucky meets you halfway and when your lips touch it feels like fireworks, your stomach filling with butterflies while he brings you closer to him while deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes you both pull away for air, breathing heavily while looking at each other. "Wow." Is all he says after a moment.

You giggle and bite your lip. "Happy birthday, Bucky." You say softly and give him a kiss on the cheek before settling back against him, your head on his chest as you look up at the stars.

Bucky wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and then relaxes while looking up too, more content than ever to finally have you in his arms.

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7ndipity · 10 months

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When they call you clingy

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: different scenarios in which they've called you clingy.

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, jk calls himself an idiot, not proofread.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I'm gonna be honest, these are all over the place. Some are angsty, some are fluffy, Jimin's is just straight-up comfort because apparently he's part of my emotional support squad. Idk, I hope you like them anyway!

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Seokjin: Bickering with Jin was something that happened often, usually over something you both knew was ridiculous to fight over, like the validity of mint chocolate as an ice cream flavor, but both of you were too stubborn to back down.

Tonight's argument: whether holding hands while sleeping was clingy or not.

"I think it's nice." You argued.

"That's because you're clingy!" He retorted.

"I'm clingy?" You asked, offended. "Have you seen you?"

"What?"

"Last week at that party, you couldn't stand me being more than five feet away from you!"

"That's cause Wooseok kept staring at you and I didn't want him trying to make a pass at you." He exclaimed.

You blinked. "That was why?"

"Yes!"

You paused, caught of guard by his admission. "That's kinda sweet."

"Because I'm a sweet boyfriend." He said, still slightly defensive.

"You are." You assented, coming over and kissing him, making him finally crack and give you a small grin.

"Can we please just go to bed now?" He asked.

"Will you let me hold your hand?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Then yes."

Yoongi: It was late in the afternoon when you brought him a coffee while he was working on his laptop and, noticing the concentrated frown on his face, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Agh, clingy." He grumbled, not with any venom, just his usual tone, but it was still enough to make you draw back, excusing yourself so he could work.

Were you clingy? You knew you were more physically affectionate than he was, but he'd never seemed to find it bothersome, but you couldn't help second guessing yourself after his comment.

Later, when he came through to join you, he noticed you were a bit quiet, but didn't think much of it at first, until you sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from him.

"C'mere." He said, patting the space next him.

"I'm good here right now." You said, making him frown in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why are you way over there?"

"I'm just trying to give you some space."

"I don't want space." He pouted.

"But you said I was clingy."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." He said, sliding over next to you. "You know I'm not the best at showing my feelings, but that's one of the things I admire about you. You're not afraid to be the one to reach out first, and sometimes I need that. I need clingy."

"Really?" You quirked a brow at him.

"A little, just a little." He warned, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but it was too late, you'd already tackled him.

Hoseok: It was a clear night as the two of you walked around the city, enjoying one of your first proper date nights since he'd got back from tour, and you were taking full advantage of it, trying to keep as close to him as possible, whether holding his hand or wrapping your arms round his waist.

"My clingy baby." He chuckled as you wound yourself around him yet again. It wasn't said unkindly, but for some reason the word kept bouncing around in your head, making you self-consciously shift back to just holding hands. Were you being too clingy? You had always thought that Hobi liked your affectionate nature, but now you were worried if it was a little too much, even for him. Noticing your change in mood, he gave your hand a little squeeze. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You hummed, still thinking.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Am I being too clingy?" You asked, glancing over him.

"What?! Of course not!" He said, stunned. "I was just teasing you earlier, Baby. Trust me, you could never be too clingy for me."

"You sure?" You asked.

"Definitely." He said, opening his arms. "Now get back over here."

Namjoon: Joon had been working almost non-stop for weeks and you could tell it was taking a toll on him, the fatigue clear on his face, but he rebuffed you at every attempt to try and help him relax.

"Can you just give me some goddamn space, you're so clingy!" He'd finally snapped one evening, the final straw in your mind.

That was three days ago, and you hadn't been back to his place since, ignoring his calls and texts. You hated shutting him out the same way he had done you, but you also weren't going stand by and put up with his behavior anymore. If it was space that he wanted, he could have it.

Until you open the door the next morning to a very disheveled looking Joon.

"What are you-?"

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "For acting the way I have, and for yelling at you like that. I know you just trying to look out for me, you didn't deserve any of that." He paused to catch his breath, seeming to brace himself before looking back up at you. "The past few days have been absolute hell without you, but it made me realize how much I love you, and I know it's shitty timing to say that, but I-"

You shut him up with a quick kiss, knowing if you didn't stop him, he would probably keep talking for at least a half hour.

"You wanna come in?" You asked, to which he quickly nodded.

He still had some apologizing to do, but it was a start.

Jimin: Some day are just shit. Some days feel like you're just circling the drain, constantly the verge of tipping over the edge into the deep abyss, and all you want is something to hold onto and keep you from falling.

Which is why, when Jimin came home late that evening and fell on the bed next to you, you had immediately wrapped yourself around him and refused to let go.

"What's got you so clingy?" He'd teased, trying to tilt your chin up, but you wouldn't let him, tucking your face further into his neck.

"Babe?" He asked, more worried now, noticing you shaking slightly against him. "What's wrong?"

You just shook your head. "Bad day."

"I'm sorry." He said softly, understanding the situation now. "Can I do something? Do you need anything?"

"Just you." You mumbled, your breathing unsteady as you tried to keep from crying.

He held you tighter. "I'm here. I've got you."

Taehyung: "I like this." He mumbled, tracing patterns along your back with his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, I like it when you're clingy."

As soon as he'd walked through the door, you had latched onto him, having not seen him in over two weeks while he was traveling.

You frowned, propping yourself up on your hands to look at him. "I'm not clingy."

"That would sound a lot more convincing if you weren't laying on top of me right now." He chuckled.

Shooting him a look, you moved to roll off of him, but he stopped you, holding you tightly by the waist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't wanna be clingy." You said stubbornly.

"But I like it!" He laughed.

"Well, I don't! Being clingy isn't supposed to be a good thing!" You said.

"I think it is, at least the way you do it." He said, rubbing circles on you sides with his thumbs. "It's nice to know that you like me as much as I like you."

"So, you're admitting you're clingy too?" You poked him.

"You had to ask?" He suddenly rolled till you were pinned under him. "Darling, you have no idea how clingy I can be."

Jungkook: It had caught you off guard when you overhead him talking to one of his friends after dinner. "Y/n's the same way, they're so clingy!" He'd laughed. It might have only been a joke, but it cut you deeper than you cared to admit.

You knew you tended to stick him more when you went out, but he'd always seemed okay with it. Till now now anyway.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn't help but shy away a bit from him, keeping a little distance between you, causing him to grow increasingly confused.

"Are you mad a me?" He asked, once you were alone in the car.

"Do you really think I'm clingy? You asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What?"

"That's what you said to Mingyu." You said, looking down.

"That was- I was just joking around." He said trying to keep his tone light, but it became clear by your lack of response that you weren't amused. "I don't think you're clingy."

"Then why say it?"

"Because-" He sighed. "Because I'm an idiot. I was just trying to be cool, and I know that sounds dumb and childish, but I don't know how else to explain it." He looked over at you. "I'm sorry."

You studied him for a moment. "I expect cuddles as compensation for this."

"Of course." He agreed.

"And don't call my boyfriend an idiot."

"You got it." He grinned at you, starting the car.

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badjokesbyjeff · 1 year

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Boys have a thing and girls don't

One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat.

"What did you do today?" I asked.

She couldn't wait to tell me. "We learned that boys are different from girls" she chirped.

Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head. "My teacher told us that boys have a thing and girls don't," she added.

"Well, yes they do..." I said cautiously.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy."

I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour.

"Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?"

My palms were beginning to sweat.

"Um...well…" I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject when she asked, "Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?"

Well, I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that question at least once? "Oh, well...um..." I stammered.

She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's ‘cause it moves when they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked."

That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole, I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things.

As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage, she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag.

"I drew a picture," she said. "Do you want to see?"

I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down.

There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud.

She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it … and I did … she got over her pique.

That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. Every year I remember that conversation. And to be honest, I haven't looked at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

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judeswhore · 1 year

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i wanna kiss your lips; mason mount

summary: your past relationships have been anything but giving and mason just has to change that

pairing: best friend!mason mount x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f) receiving

notes: you can find my masterlist here. uhm surprise? this was a half finished piece in my drafts and i thought teehee maybe i’ll post so here she is

“you’ve never had an orgasm?” mason’s tone was one of complete disbelief, the look in his eyes a perfect match. he gazed at you from the other end of the sofa, the movie playing on his tv long since forgotten.

“well, i have by myself, but not with anyone else.”

“never?”

“nope.”

“not even josh?” you snorted at this, gazed into the bowl of popcorn on your lap in search of a piece that looked extra sweet. mason was watching you with furrowed brows, his body turned to face yours, one arm against the back of the sofa. there was a pillow in his lap and he picked at a loose piece of thread.

“especially not josh.” you shrugged like it was nothing, curling your feet up under yourself as you matched his position. you stared at him head on, even as you spoke the next few words. “most guys only care about getting themselves off, half the time they can’t even tell if you’ve finished or not. they fuck you and take what they want and that’s it, sometimes it’s too much effort and to them where’s the fun in that?”

“too much effort?” mason was perplexed. too much effort is not a phrase he would use in regards to making his girl cum, in fact that was the best part, the fun part. drawing it out as long as possible, edging them with your fingers and tongue until they’re begging and falling apart from one simple touch. to him, sex is boring if the foreplay isn’t drawn out and full of teasing.

“it takes a while for me. i can’t-“ you shrugged again, heat blossoming over your skin because why were you talking about this with mason? the boy who’d put worms in your sandwiches when you were little? your friendship was open and carefree and yeah you’d often discussed your sex lives but this felt like a step too far. but you’d already started now, what would be the point in stopping. “i can’t just cum in two minutes. it takes more than just a couple fingers or whatever and the guys i’ve been with found that tiring. who wants to be with a girl who’s wound so tight it takes her forever to cum? they usually try for a few minutes, get bored and sometimes a little annoyed so i fake it, we fuck, they leave. i’ve learnt to take care of myself once they’re gone.”

you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten on to that topic, you’d been talking about your ex being back in town and one thing led to another until you were confessing your deepest, darkest secrets. well, it wasn’t exactly deep or dark but it was definitely a secret. twenty three years old and you were yet to find a man who could make you finish, over dramatic moans and fake orgasms had long since become your closest friend. it was this confession, and your best friends need to be good at everything, that had landed you in a pretty surprising position.

naked in his bed.

“y’can tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” mason was settled between your legs, his mouth hot on the inside of your thigh and all you could do was nod. you swallowed thickly, hands pressed into the soft cotton of his bedsheets because you didn’t know where else to put them. mason’s hair looked inviting but you were nervous, afraid you’d pull too hard, worried he might not like having the soft strands yanked. that on top of you usual anxieties over not being able to cum had your heart pounding in your chest. your best friend was no idiot and he could sense your inner turmoil from a mile away.

he propped himself up on his elbows and kissed your knee.

“tell me this is okay. if it’s not we can stop, pretend it never happened.”

“no,” you shook your head rather aggressively. mason hadn’t even touched you yet and you were soaked, wound up simply by thinking about what he was going to do to you. not a single part of you wanted him to stop. “this is okay.”

“yeah? you’re sure?”

“positive.” he blew out a soft breath, a half laugh, that hit your pussy, made you clench around nothing. you might find it difficult coming at the hands of someone else but you were always extra sensitive. the fact that this was mason was somehow intensifying that.

“good because i really wanna eat you out.” you had no reply for that but he didn’t seem to mind, he was kissing your thigh again, trailing his mouth to that hot spot between your legs but never actually touching you. he switched to your other thigh, nipped and sucked until you were shifting impatiently, subtly lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

“mason.”

“shh, m’taking my time. this is what you deserve.” he pressed a hand to your stomach to hold you down, his other hand hooking under your knee, pushing outward to open you up for him. you were completely on show to him, every inch of you and despite that initial anxiety, a larger part of you felt like this was meant to be. there was no one who made you feel safer than mason.

he kissed your hip, nuzzled his nose against the soft skin of your thigh before his mouth hovered over your pussy. his gaze flicked up to yours, a gentle smile curving his lips.

“you’re so beautiful, baby.” it took everything in you not to buck towards his mouth, your fingers twisting into the sheets. his smile turned dirty in an instant. “got the prettiest pussy, gonna treat her right, yeah? gonna show you how good it feels.” you could only nod, tummy twisting at his words. dirty talk always got you off, pushed you closer to that edge but again, some guys just don’t do it right. you could already tell this wasn’t going to be a problem with mason.

the second his tongue touched you a shaky breath blew past your lips, your eyes falling closed. he licked a single broad stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, tongue flat to cover as much of you as possible. he repeated the motion, humming at the taste of you, cleaning up the wetness that had gathered just from his proposition. the kiss he pressed to your clit had your thighs tensing beneath his hands.

“taste so good, sweetheart.” he teased the tip of his tongue against your hole, dipped inside just slightly before he was licking through your folds again. at your clit he stopped, pointed his tongue and repeatedly flicked over the swollen bud, grinning at the high pitched whine it pulled from you. “yeah? like that?”

“yeah, i-“

“shh, it’s okay, just relax for me.” mason’s hand smoothed over your thigh, pressed you open a little more and went back to flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. pleasure was curling low at the base of your spine, the very first sparks of fire. this was usually as far as it would get, your orgasm would build halfway before fizzling out of reach.

his lips closed around your clit, sucked softly until your hips were lifting off the bed, bucking towards his mouth and he was chuckling low in the back of his throat. the sound vibrated through you, made you half choke on a whimper, your fingers pulling at the sheets. he pulled back and kissed the skin around your pussy, ignored the parts which were begging for him. his hand was suddenly reaching for yours, fingers soft around your wrist as he pried yours from the sheets and guided them to his head. he pushed until your fingers threaded through the soft strands of hair.

“want you to tug on my hair, not my sheets.” you couldn’t reply because he was buried back between your thighs, tongue running through your folds, licking at your clit, pressing just slightly inside you before retreating again. he kept the pressure on your clit light, just bordering on teasing and it was driving you insane, the steady build up of pleasure growing heavier.

with your hands in his hair you pushed, urged him to increase the pressure. he caught on almost immediately, swirled his tongue around it before flicking back and forth, your mouth dropping open on a quiet moan. that moan turned into a soft yelp when his teeth grazed your clit. it was a foreign feeling but one that had you gushing with even more arousal.

“don’t hold back, i want you to be loud. want my neighbours to know how good i’m giving it to you.” you made some unintelligible sound, tugging a little at his hair in acknowledgment and mason sucked your clit in reply. he suctioned it into his mouth with a deep groan and your orgasm creeped a little bit closer. at this point, your past partners would have given up, would have huffed in annoyance until you faked your orgasm and they could fuck you.

mason, however, had lost no momentum and was showing no signs of letting up, his attention to your pussy and your reactions to his mouth keeping him going. he’d caught on that you liked teasing just a little, that you liked when he worked you to a point with the tip of his tongue before flattening it and letting it fizzle out. that was what drew out your orgasm, time and teasing. you were a wet mess, dripping down on to his sheets, stickying your thighs and the lower half of his face and you whined loudly when he pressed his tongue into your hole.

his nose bumped your clit repeatedly from the position, your pussy clenching with need and you couldn’t help the harsh yank to his hair.

“oh my god, fuck. don’t-don’t stop.” your head tipped back, a string of moans and curses falling past your lips as mason continued fucking you with his tongue. each time his nose rubbed over your clit a desperate whimper fell from you, your grip on his hair tight enough that it bordered on painful. he pulled back, gave one large lick up your pussy before meeting your gaze.

“tell me what you need.” you blinked at him, trying to clear the fog in your head. you were already so close, a feeling you’d never felt with anyone else bubbling in your tummy but even you knew you still needed a little bit more. true, you could probably cum from mason’s tongue alone if he kept going, but you wanted just that little bit more. you brushed his hair back with your fingers, focused your gaze on his mouth, lips plump and glistening and there was an overwhelming need to kiss him.

you were aware the two of you had crossed a line in your friendship, had done something you couldn’t come back from. but this was sex. unfeeling, detached, a transaction of sorts. mason can prove you can cum with other people, you get an orgasm when you’d only been expecting a movie and popcorn tonight. but kissing was different. kissing meant something to you and you couldn’t kiss him and move on. something at the back of your mind suggested you weren’t going to be able to move on from this, but that was for future you to worry about. right now you just wanted to cum.

“fingers, i want your fingers.” it was breathless, your voice broken and scratchy from your keening moans and whines. mason cocked his head, grinning slowly as he bent his head and kissed just above your clit.

“yeah? want me to fuck you open with them? bet i can have you coming in minutes, baby.” he shifted between your legs and brought his hand up, middle and pointer finger settling in front of your mouth. his grin turned into a smirk, eyes sparkling with heated lust. “be a good girl and get them nice and wet for me.” you were quick to do as you were told, lips wrapping around his fingers, tongue swirling around them until they were coated in saliva. you let them go with a dramatic pop, not once breaking eye contact, even as mason settled back between your thighs.

your legs had closed slightly and he nudged them back open with a chastising nip to the soft skin. the tips of his fingers teased your hole, circled it for a second as his gaze locked on your pussy.

“you’re making a mess of my sheets.” there was nothing to say to that and so you simply let your head fall back on to the pillow, eyes closing again when he pressed both fingers into you. he moved slowly, let your walls relax around him before he hooked them up and slowly retreated. “god, you’re so fucking tight, don’t even think my cock would fit.” it was a throwaway comment, actual sex wasn’t on the table but his words still made you clench, the thought of him burying himself inside you pulling a high pitched whine from your throat.

“make me cum, please. i wanna cum.”

“i know, sweetheart, i’m gonna, just enjoy it.” he started fucking you slowly, fingers pressing against all of your sensitive parts, hitting deeper than yours ever could. the thumb on his other hand had found your clit and was rubbing tight circles over it, the trembles in your thighs an indication to you both that you were hurtling towards the edge. the wet sounds of your pussy and mason’s low praises broke through your constant string of moans and whimpers. “that’s it. taking it so good, babe, look at you. pussy’s just begging me to fuck her, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

his tongue was on your clit again, flicking over it to match the pace and rhythm of his fingers and each time they hooked inside of you, you tipped a little bit closer. your clit was swollen and throbbing beneath his tongue, the feeling intensifying when he sucked it between his lips. he hummed against, thrust his fingers in a little harder, stretching you open to a point you wished it was his cock filling you up.

“such a pretty girl, you gonna cum for me? come on, i wanna feel it.” fingers in his hair, you pulled a little harder, legs starting to shake and your orgasm was only inches out of reach. the pads of his fingers repeatedly bullied into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the feeling so intense tears had gathered on your lash line as your mouth dropped open, moans and whimpers of mason’s name filling the air.

“m’so close, mase, it feels so good.”

“mhm, being such a good girl, fuck i wish i could stay here all night.” you whined, back arching off the bed and his free hand had to press you back down, applying the slightest bit of pressure to your lower tummy. he could tell how close you were, knew your orgasm was just dangling out of reach and he took a chance as he pulled his lips from you clit. “play with your tits for me, babe.”

half delirious you did as told, one hand still tugging at mason’s hair but the other moved up to cup your boob, squeezing and massaging the way you did when you were alone. praises filtered up from between your legs and then he was back to tonguing your clit, his fingers fucking you a little harder. you pinched your nipple and mason crooked his fingers and your orgasm hit you like a wave.

a high pitched moan, one that definitely sounded like a cry, fell from your lips as your back lifted off the mattress, fingers tangled so tight in mason’s hair it was a miracle you hadn’t pulled any out. your pussy clenched so tight around his fingers, slick walls hugging them back in each time he pulled them out, working you through the most intense orgasm of your life. mason kept muttering praises the whole time, telling you how good you did, how pretty you were, how badly he wants to fuck you until you cry.

it takes a few moments, a couple slow pumps of his fingers and ever slower laps of his tongue before the waves of pleasure die down and the roaring in your ears subsides. you’d gushed around his fingers, made a mess of him and the bed but he didn’t seem to mind, eagerly cleaning you up with broad licks when he finally pulled his fingers free. you were too sensitive, clit pulsing and with a shake of your head you pushed at mason’s forehead, whimpering quietly when he pressed a final kiss to the little bud.

he sat back on his knees, watched you through hooded eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licked them clean of your cum while you watched with a heaving chest. your body was on fire, pussy sensitive but somehow feeling empty now and it was difficult to miss the bulge in mason’s joggers. he drew his fingers from his lips and flopped down beside you, his shoulder warm against your bare skin.

“so, how was that for a first orgasm?”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount blurb #mason mount fluff #mason mount fic #mason mount one shot

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lostfracturess · 5 months

Text

【 ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ 】 ch. 01

"it must be amusing for you." "don't even think for a second that i find it amusing if you get hurt." the seriousness in his tone made you pause. "let's get you home."

x pairing gojo x f!reader (main), fushiguro x f!reader (jjk universe)

x summary you never wanted to become part of the world of jujutsu sorcerers, yet fate had other plans when the one and only satoru gojo took you under his wing at jujutsu high. but as the lines between student and teacher begin to blur, hidden powers surge to life, and a deadly target is set on your head.

x wc 12.5 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains abusive/possessive behavior, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, graphic depictions of violence/injury/combat, character death, suicidal thoughts. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

You had always known that Gojo Satoru was a sorcerer feared by many. But it wasn't until that moment, when your blade was easily tossed aside by his bare hands, that it really hit you. He stood before you; signature stupid smile playing on his lips. "I knew you had potential."

The satisfaction in his voice clawed at your ego. No, you couldn't let him have that satisfaction. Not after the grueling effort you had put into this fight. Barely able to breathe, you shot back, "Don't talk shit, Gojo. You're not even trying!"

But you had already reached your limits, perhaps even surpassed them. Your legs trembled with exhaustion, threatening to give way beneath you. You fought to keep your composure, leaning on your knees for support instead of collapsing completely. Gojo lowered his gaze and peered down at you through his sunglasses. His voice dripped with irony, "I don't want to hurt you—yet."

His blue eyes captured yours; making your skin crawl. How can anyone be so arrogant.

Your imagination danced on the edge of danger; picturing what it might feel like to wrap your hands around his neck, tightening your grip just a fraction to erase that stupid smile of his before you sank to the ground.

Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara rushed over to you from the side of the training ground. "Are you all right?"

You gathered what strength you had left and straightened up, trying to hide your weakness, though your trembling form betrayed you. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Gojo held out his hand to help you to your feet, his mocking smile still lingering. You hesitated. Eventually, it was Megumi who reached out to you, and you took his hand without a second thought. As you did, Gojo's eyebrow raised slightly, a silent challenge in his stance.

It was only a few days ago that your world collided with this white-haired, self-satisfied man. Since then, everything had changed. Gojo had invited you to join the Tokyo Jujutsu High—a world you'd wanted to avoid at all costs. However, your acceptance of his offer had marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. But it had also revealed your own limitations. Painfully clear.

Somehow you wondered if you should have declined it.

"It's pretty impressive how you've picked all this up by yourself," Megumi's words echoed in your mind. Yet, you couldn't help feeling like a fool.

"I'll do my best to catch up with you as soon as possible," you vowed.

"I'm sure you will," Gojo said, his tone surprisingly gentle. Your gazes locked again, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world held its breath. There was an unspoken connection—an invisible force drawing you closer to him. But you fought to resist its allure, trying to convince yourself that it was merely a figment of your imagination.

Gojo finally broke the spell and turned away. "Tomorrow, 6 a.m.—cardio training!" There was a hint of a joke in his voice, though it sounded more like an order. Groans and protests filled the air. "Latecomers do an extra lap!" he declared before he disappeared from sight.

"Ugh, that guy!" Nobara huffed. "As if he's ever an early riser himself." You turned towards her.

"He strolls into our training, what, four hours late?" Nobara complained, rolling her eyes. "Then has the audacity to whine that we're the slow ones. Total jerk."

Yuji placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we should join in—sleep in, stroll in late. He won't even notice."

"Deal!" Nobara agreed eagerly.

Megumi shook his head. "If he catches wind of this, you're dead meat."

They scoffed, dismissing his warning. "Like he'd ever find out."

"Are you scared?" Yuji teased Megumi, giving him a playful nudge.

Megumi finally relented. "Oh, for goodness' sake. Fine, it's a deal. Tomorrow, 8 a.m. sharp."

Nobara countered, grinning mischievously, "Make it ten!"

You did your best to hide the exhaustion racing through your body as the banter between them continued. The adrenaline that fueled your earlier battle with Gojo was fading fast, leaving only the harsh reality of your physical limits. Your legs trembled. The world around you blurred. Your body had reached its breaking point. With a heavy sigh, your strength gave way, and you collapsed to the ground. Gojo's stupid grin still vivid in your mind.

----------------

Your room felt suffocating after the humbling encounter with Gojo. The four walls closing in as you sought an escape from the restless thoughts in your mind. You couldn't see through his facade, unable to decipher the true meaning behind his words that day—the day he had taken you in and you followed. You blindly followed. You must be utterly foolish, there was no doubt about it.

Despite your best efforts to cast them aside, the thoughts lingered, an ache in your chest that refused to be dismissed. Sleep eluded you; restlessness drove you out of your room. You wandered aimlessly through the quiet corridors in the midnight silence that contrasted sharply with the school's usual chaos.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you brewed a late-night cup of strong coffee. With each sip, you questioned whether abandoning the fragment of family you had left had been the right desicion. Or, had you blindly entered Satoru Gojo's complicated world in vain? It was a reality where every vulnerability was exposed—a constant reminder of your weakness. Perhaps you weren't capable of saving anyone after all. Was it all a futile endeavor that would ultimately prove Gojo's cautioning correct?

"Little late for a caffeine kick, don't you think?" A voice—all too familiar— broke the stillness.

You turned, heart pounding in your chest, to find Gojo strolling in. There was a weariness in his step. His usually vibrant blue of his eyes dimmed. Shrouded with shadows.

"I suppose I'll be fine", you replied, raising your mug to your lips. "What's your excuse for the midnight stroll?"

Gojo let out a sigh, leaning against the door frame. "Insomnia," he admitted, frustration lacing his words. You took a sip of your coffee, studying the tired lines on his face. "Want one?"

"To worsen the situation?"

"You seem like it couldn't get any worse."

"Charming," he replied, his lips curving into a slight grin. His sharp yet weary eyes locked onto yours, searching and contemplative. After a brief pause, he declined, "Unfortunately, that won't help with the real reason I can't sleep."

"Let me guess—," A sense of unease fluttered in your stomach. "—losing sleep over bearing the title of the world's strongest sorcerer?" You aimed for a playful tone, hoping to cut through the growing tension.

Gojo took a step closer. The weariness on his face becoming more apparent as the gap between you diminished. A soft, teasing chuckle escaped his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. "Imagine thinking that would lose me a wink of sleep."

Oh, he's so full of himself.

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your cup. "So, what is it then?"

"Oh, it's you, of course, love."

"Don't talk shit." Your pulse quickened, an accelerating undertow as he breached the last remains of distance. His closeness felt almost suffocating in its intensity, every nerve tingling, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him, a tangible pressure against your skin.

With deliberate intent, he leaned forward, reaching over you to grab a cup. His chest hovering dangerously close to your face. Enveloped by his proximity, your senses were overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. Your body involuntarily tensed.

"I know what you want to ask." His form towered above you, yet somehow, it felt like he was enveloping you entirely.

"Don't pretend to know me," a brittle edge sharpened your voice; your frustration at his arrogance boiling over. This man had the audacity to act as though he had you all figured out when he knew next to nothing. However, the subtle brush of Gojo's chest against your shoulder as he took the cup was enough to sent a subtle, stomach-churning twist through your abdomen.

He lingered there, gaze unwavering and intensifying as he leaned closer. The closeness of his face—the warmth of his breath against your skin—setting your heart racing. "Oh love, you're an open book to me."

Time seemed to halt.

"We have a lot in common," he remarked, setting his cup down on the counter you leaned against. His fingers grazed yours ever so slightly—a seemingly casual touch that left a lingering sensation. He rested his hands on the countertop, just inches from yours. Capturing you.

"We're not the same." Your gaze narrowed. "I'm not that arrogant."

"Oh, love, who hurt you?" he mocked. "You talk as if there's a dagger where your heart should be."

"You should know that only to well," you shot back.

Gojo's eyes lingered on yours. His jaw clenched, fingers digging into the hardwood of the counter. Why was he like that. Acting like you're his puppet—acting like he knows you will fall for him. But as soon as the first light of day touches the ground, he pulls away.

He broke the silence. "You should get some rest," he advised. "Don't think I'll go easy in tomorrow's training just because you're the rookie here." He began to turn away, But you weren't finished with him.

"Why did you say that to me on that day?"

He paused. His back turned to you. "I just know you."

This man's arrogance is unmatched.

----------------

A piercing scream shattered the tranquil pre-dawn silence. The urge to crawl back under the covers was strong, but before you could make up your mind, your bedroom door slammed open with an abrupt force.

"It's 6, training time!" Gojo, already dressed in workout attire, radiated a fierce commitment that rippled through his frame.

"What—?" Your groan, still groggy and barely coherent. Boldly, he marched over to you and yanked the covers away.

"Gojo!!!" Indignation flared as you clutched at your scanty pyjama shorts. Now exposed to his gaze. "Privacy!"

He pulled back. His face flickered with amusement. Still enshrouded in sleep, you grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the intruding teacher. Gojo effortlessly dodged the flying missile, as if he had anticipated your reaction.

"Good morning to you too."

You barely restrained yourself from throwing another object his way. Rubbing your eyes in a futile attempt to focus, you were already plotting various ways to metaphorically kill him in your mind. Clearly, he had reverted to his old childish self after his overbearing behavior the previous night.

He closed the gap and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. His order delivered with a flirtatious edge. "Get ready." And, in a blink, he was gone.

What the hell.

Collapsing back onto your bed, a pillow found its way into your embrace, muffling the scream bubbling from your depths.

What's wrong with this man?

----------------

What's wrong with this man? You thought. Again.

The question ran through your mind, fueling frustration and anger even as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you. Your eyes drifted to Yuji and Nobara, equally sleep-deprived, shuffling the laps around the training ground alongside you in a semi-conscious daze. Despite Gojo's complaints of insomnia just yesterday, his current energy level stood in harsh contrast to your own lethargy.

The sun rose, drenching the training ground in an unforgiving blaze. Heat surged through your head, and you couldn't discern whether it was due to the scorching heat or the onset of a fever. Just as you were on the brink, Gojo tossed each of you a water bottle. He grinned, as if sadistically relishing your collective exhaustion.

Yuji slumped down beside you; his weariness mirroring your own. It was evident that both of you were unaccustomed to the brutal training. Amidst the agony, a strange sense of satisfaction seeped through you as you accepted that this torment was now your daily reality.

"After a romp through the forest, we can wrap up for the day," Gojo declared. He seemed to genuinely relish watching his students push themselves to their physical limits.

"Well—" Megumi stood up, his sturdy presence cutting through the stifling heat. He brushed off his shorts before addressing you.

"Stick with me, and you won't get lost," he offered gently.

"Get lost?"

"The forest route is pretty winding. It's easy to lose track."

"Ah, got it," you replied, though you secretly doubted that a forest in the heart of Tokyo could be all that difficult to navigate. Megumi offered a hand, his smile reassuring. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Gojo's scrutinizing gaze lingering on both of you. As you shifted to meet his eyes, he quickly averted his gaze, leaving a sense of unease. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

----------------

Fuck.

You were alone. Alone in the forest you thought wouldn't be that difficult to navigate. The irony.

The unexpected toll your lack of stamina took on you was something you hadn't anticipated. How much time had passed since you'd been separated from them? The nagging uncertainty clawed at you as you sank onto a fallen log beside what seemed to be a faint trail through the woods. A heavy moan escaped your lips. "Aw, hell."

"Hold on, guys!" Yuji called out, his voice echoing through the forest, as he realized your absence.

Megumi wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Where did she go?"

"The real question is, how long has she been gone?" Nobara added.

"You two keep moving forward. I'll double back for her," Megumi declared. Without hesitation, he pivoted, retracing the footprints back into the depth of the forest.

Back at the training ground, Yuji and Nobara, their expressions painted with weariness, converged with Gojo. The latter, lounging nonchalantly with a non-alcoholic cocktail perched beside him under a shady umbrella, seemed utterly pleased with himself.

"Asshole," Nobara hissed as she observed him. Yuji quickly filled Gojo in on your misadventure in the forest and Megumi's mission to find you.

"Lost?" Gojo's reply came, unexpectedly zesty as he sprang from his laid-back position. "How can you just lose someone?"

Yuji's eyebrows arched. He couldn't remember Gojo being that enthusiastic the time he got lost in the forest in his early days of training. In fact, Gojo had been seemingly unconcerned back then. He'd wandered aimlessly for hours before eventually escaping the woody maze. Now, witnessing Gojo's fervent reaction to your getting lost, it seemed oddly out of character.

Satoru rubbed the back of his head. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'll go after her."

Navigating through the dense woods—sense of direction completely lost—you aimlessly staggered on. You pondered how the hell you could get stuck in a place like this. Suddenly, a sharp crack of a twig or branch behind you ignited a spark of panic in your bloodstream. You swiveled hastily, twisting your ankle in the process, and tumbled down a slope.

"Carp, Crap, Crap!"

You felt a small stream of blood trickle down your leg, momentarily blurring your vision with discomfort.

This couldn't get any worse.

Leaning back, you assessed your situation, feeling a tidal wave of defeat sweep over you. The forest seemed endless—the amount of time you'd been wandering its dark recesses unclear. The sun, filtering its fading light through the dense leaves, slowly descended toward the horizon. Fatigue washed over you. Heat rose in your skull.

"Just a moment—," you muttered to yourself; fatigue pulling you in.

"What the hell you think you doing?" A voice—achingly familiar—sliced through your hazy awareness. Gradually, your eyes fluttered open.

It got worse.

"Gojo?" Your whisper was frail, barely a ripple in the air.

Of course. It had to be Gojo who found you in that state.

In the next instant, his hand was tenderly pressed against your forehead. His touch causing shivers running through your form as he whispered, "You're burning up."

It was only now that you realized the haze you felt was probably due to a fever setting in. You tried to downplay it. "I got lost," a pathetic excuse for your current dire straits. His eyes closed briefly, releasing a weighted sigh.

"Don't do this to me."

Before you could process his words, he quickly stripped off his jacket. He wrapped it tightly around the bleeding wound on your inner thigh. A wince escaped you as you tried to sit up, desperate to show some semblance of strength.

"I'm fine!" you gasped out. Your swift action rewarded with a searing pain radiating through your skull. At this point, you couldn't decide which was worse—the throbbing headache or the dangerously close proximity of Satoru Gojo's hands between your legs.

"I don't need your help!"

"Oh really?" Gojo's gaze held you prisoner as you strained to remain calm under his unyielding gaze. His fingers clung to your skin—a cruel proximity that made your stomach clench. "You'll have to accept help at some point."

The world seemed to blur for a split second, almost causing you to forget the position of his hands. Your lips parted, but no coherent response found its way out of your throat. A boyish smile played on his lips as he shifted his attention back to securing his jacket more tightly around your injured leg.

"Your ankle is hurt too," he observed, his tone matter-of-fact, though his eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. It must have been quite a show for him to see you in such a vulnerable state. Weakened and wounded. Particularly after your foolish display of capability when you first met—boldly declaring that you didn't need training at his school. Looking back, it was just ridiculous.

"It must be amusing for you."

He looked at you; somewhat hurt. "Don't even think for a second that I find it amusing if you get hurt." The seriousness in his tone that made you pause.

"Let's get you home," he said after a moment. With effortless strength he lifted you into his arms, causing you to instinctively cling to his neck. As he held you, his eyes never left your face, "Are you all right?"

You nodded. However, your eyes shied away from locking with his, since that meant hovering mere inches from his face. You figured it best to avoid straight-up confronting his features, considering your entire form was already securely wrapped in his arms. Perhaps it was the fever, but you allowed your head to rest on his shoulder. You absorbed the comforting warmth he radiated after what felt like an eternity of lying on the frosty moss. His hands held you tightly, as if afraid you might slip through his fingers again. You found yourself pressed even closer to him, finding comfort in his protective embrace.

"Gojo, why—" you began, but before your words could fully form, they were abruptly interrupted by Megumi's appearance.

"Is everything okay?" His voice echoed from above the embankment.

"She's fine." Gojo's reply was swift. For a fleeting second, you thought you heard a mumbled addition, something whispered for his ears alone. "She's fine, she's with me."

----------------

The next thing you recalled is waking up in an unfamiliar, sterile room. The orange and red glow of the setting sun softly lit the room. As you cautiously sat up, you noticed bandages tightly wrapped around the entirety of your left ankle. Oddly, it didn't hurt, which made you suspect they must've given you some painkiller. Your slightly blurry vision somewhat confirmed that.

A soft voice cuts through your foggy consciousness, drawing your eyes to the familiar white-haired man seated next to your bed. He looks utterly exhausted. His hair disheveled. Faint dark circles underlining his eyes. You can't help but wonder if he's been sleeping right there in that chair, given the casually thrown blanket on its back.

"You're up?" he asked, his voice betraying his weariness.

"Why are you here, Gojo?"

Your question carried more seriousness than you intended. Or perhaps you intended it to be as serious as it appeared. You had wanted to draw a clear line, emphasizing that it wasn't natural for him to sleep next to you—to watch over you the whole day just because you had a fever and a few bruises.

You didn't want him doing what he was doing. You didn't want him—here. You didn't want what it was inflicting.

"Quite the greeting for your hero, don't you think?" He said with a playful smirk.

A heavy silence enveloped the room. You searched his gaze for any hint of why he was there, though deep down you already knew the answer. But you struggled with it, trying to suppress and deny the truth.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" He asked after a pause.

"Answer my question first."

A spark of amusement lit up his tired eyes—a soft chuckle escaped him.

"What?"

Still chuckling, he managed to say, "I really shouldn't be here." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Pathetic, right?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he eventually admitted. But you refused to accept such an obvious lie.

"That's not it—," you urged him to reveal the truth. The truth you didn't even want to hear. But somehow you couldn't stop; couldn't hold it in any longer. His raised eyebrow silently dared you to keep going.

"You shouldn't—" you began, but your voice trailed off—your courage waning. Gojo remained silent. His jaw tightened slightly. "—you shouldn't be here."

He starred at you. His gaze was both intimidating and captivating. Part of you wished to escape the intensity of his gaze, while another part craved it, yearned for his eyes to stay on you. Briefly, your eyes flickered to his lips, still curved in that enigmatic grin. You fleetingly wondered if they belonged to someone else. The thought flickered away as quickly as it came, leaving a strange knot in your stomach.

"If you tell me to leave, I'll leave," he muttered.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair and in a few steps was beside your bed, sitting down next to you. His closeness enveloped you, leaving every possible answer stuck in your throat.

"Do you want me to leave?" His lips were dangerously close to yours. Your heart raced in your chest, drowning out any rational thought. His cold fingers traced a slow, shivering path along your collarbone. No. But you didn't want to give in—not to him.

"I thought you could read me like an open book?"

"I can." His eyes threatened to consume you, a dangerous desire simmering beneath them. "But I want to hear you say it."

Your pulse quickened, yet defiantly, you tilted your chin up, a subtle challenge. "I won't say it."

A wicked, almost predatory smile gradually tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Stubborn," he observed, his voice husky, layered with a desire that threatened to dissolve the very resolve holding you together. He leaned closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his breath against your skin. His lips brushed ever-so-lightly against your cheek. "I like that about you."

You inhaled sharply—a barely perceptible catch in your breath, yet you knew he noticed—he heard. Every muscle in your body was on fire, fighting to hold your resolve, refusing to collapse under the overwhelming attraction that crackled in the air, buzzing and sparking between you like a charged current.

"I won't act on those feelings unless you tell me to," he continued, his fingers now tracing a slow, torturous path across your lips.

Inside, something was screaming, Do it, just do it. But you didn't yield, stuck in your refusal to give in, especially to this arrogant man. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, even though your entire body was begging for it.

Gojo's eyes snapped into sharper focus, flashing with frustration. The unspoken challenge hanging heavy. Abruptly, he leaned back. The string of tension snapping with the motion.

"Time's up," he declared, his voice almost nonchalant. "Gotta go."

And just like that, he was slipping through the door. Your words lagging behind him, unable to reach his departing figure.

No.

Wait.

Should you feel a sense of relief now? Relieved that? Nothing happened ? Or should you have found your voice—spoken your wants?

The weight of the uncertainty bore down, unbearably so. He was gone, and the anticipation that had swelled within you slowly faded. Your hand, trembling, found your lips, as if trying to preserve the lingering essence of his proximity. Damn it. This can't be happening. You can't allow yourself to fall for your him—especially not him.

----------------

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, dragging you out of your dreams back into the harsh reality. You groaned, blinking against the bright morning light. Memories of last night with Gojo crept into your consciousness. Every word, every charged glance, played over in your mind. The unanswered 'what ifs' circling like vultures.

The nurse's appearance rustled you from your thoughts. After ensuring you were armed with painkillers and adorned with a stern string of warnings to prioritize rest and healing, she left you alone to battle with the thoughts that threatened to consume you.

With Shoko inaccessible, tucked away in a meeting in Kyoto, the painkillers and rest would have to suffice, at least for now. But even a mere glance at the pill bottle sent you back into a haze.

For at least one day, you reluctantly followed the nurse's advice. Your room overlooked the school courtyard, and through the window you could see the other students practicing diligently. However, every attempt to sneak a peek over the windowsill was met with a scowl from none other than Gojo. His gaze bored into you, as if he could see through your attempts to defy the doctor's orders.

"Rest!" he shouted at you, his voice carrying a tone of authority that sent shivers down your spine. You quickly backed away from the window. Your heart pounding as you sought refuge behind the closed curtains.

But you can't afford to rest—not fall further behind than you already are.

Though your ankle was no longer swollen, it still hurt. So did your inner thigh injury. Still, the pain was bearable—a constant reminder of your weakness. You hated it. How pathetic you appeared compared to your peers. Damn it. You weren't here to bask in rest and recovery.

Fuck this shit.

You knew of an abandoned training room on the far east of the school grounds. That night, you made it your secret training spot to practice the movements you'd observed earlier in the day, determined not to fall behind.

It was oddly amusing. This dissonance between willingly risking your life on the line during missions and the near imprisonment in the infirmary for something as relatively minor as a sprained ankle while on school grounds. Yet, that night, your resolve was ironclad, unyielding against the sharp pain that shot through your ankle with every step.

Agian. Again. Again.

You forged ahead. Each motion meticulously crafted in a relentless pursuit of perfection. Repetition became your ally, forms executed over and over again, each one a bit sharper, a bit closer to flawless precision. Your mind drowned out everything but the training.

Yet it wasn't enough.

Still not perfect.

Again.

Suddenly, the training room door burst open, slamming violently against the wall. Does this man not know how to open a door like a normal human being?

"Didn't I tell you to rest?" The voice, undeniably Gojo's, pierces the stillness.

"I can't fall behind."

Why is he even here? Is he stalking you or what?

"I told you to rest," his voice laced with anger—unfamiliar and unsettling—ricochets against the walls of the dusty room. But you didn't stop.

"That woman," he hissed. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of you. Your katana, paralyzed mid-swing by his unyielding grip, halts you, forcing your form into an unwanted pause.

"Gojo!"

"You're of no use to anyone injured!" Gojo's voice echoed. His grip on the katana firm but not threatening.

The room fell into stillness.

His crystal blue eyes held yours. There was something unsettling in them. Was it anger? Concern? His gaze paused you for a moment, but anger quickly replaced it.

"Stop pretending you care about me, Gojo," you snapped.

Effortlessly, Gojo claimed the katana and tossed it aside. The metallic sound of its collision sharp in the empty air. With a single, deliberate step, he bridged the physical distance between you—a mere breath away. His proximity dangerously close.

"How can I not care," his eyes narrowed. "—especially when you look at me with those sad, pretty eyes."

"Don't act like you know my story."

"Oh, I do!" He shot back; his voice sharp. "—yours is a classic story of tragedy—a life marred by loss, seeking not vengeance against the world or its curses, but against yourself—"

"Enough!"

"—because you think you're too weak!—" His verbal onslaught persisted. "—you couldn't protect them, so now you're punishing yourself, aren't you?"

"Stop it already!"

"—you're chasing self-destruction as atonement."

His words were finely-honed—cutting. The atmosphere crackling with each uttered syllable, neither willing to back down as emotions boiled over.

"You know next to nothing!"

"Oh love, I see it! I know it!" Gojo pressed further. "I'm trying to save you from yourself!"

Your fists clenched. "I don't need saving, especially not from you!"

You both paused to catch a breath, letting the heated argument fade away. It was as if an unspoken agreement to pause was made, and in that instant, all the stubborn resistance fell away. The tension lightened and, for a brief moment, you both let your guard down, replacing the previous anger.

"From the moment I first saw you, I knew—" Gojo's words trailed softly, barely more than a whisper. His fingers delicately swept a stray of hair from your shoulders. His touch, gentle and uncharacteristically tender.

"I knew what you were suffering," he murmured, his words torturing you, "—you had that look in your eyes that I know only too well."

You don't know me.

Your heart raced. You felt the heat of his presence on your skin—too close to your skin. You almost had to lean back to avoid feeling his breath on your lips. Silence enveloped him. His gaze anchored to yours. Longing and hesitation flickered in his eyes.

His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, sending shivers cascading with every tender touch. "Those damn pretty sad eyes," he whispered. Your knees threatened to give way, the pain in your ankle dissolving into the distant consciousness.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you longed for him to bridge the last inch that separated you. Your stomach tightened as the tension between you reached an unbearable peak. "What's stopping you?"

His eyes flashed, dancing between your lips and your gaze, silent desire boldly painted across his features. It was as if an invisible force anchored his focus to your mouth, a force against which he strenuously battled. A shaky exhale slipped from him. His frame visibly quivering, caught in a tangle of longing and restraint.

"I told you I won't act on these feelings unless you tell me to," he hissed against your lips. It was a breathless, heart-pounding closeness in which the warmth of your shared breaths mingled.

I can't.

No.

I can't.

But you wanted to.

Fuck how bad you wanted to.

Yet, silence lingered. Your words lost—unspoken.

But he saw it. Within the depths of your gaze, he saw your inner struggle, a silent war waged against yourself. And then he turned away. His posture stiffened, suggesting an inability or unwillingness to witness your turmoil any longer. The atmosphere changed, palpably altering the space between you both.

"I'm sorry," he began, uttering words that seemed to pain him as they spilled forth, "This is quite inappropriate of me."

Sorrow pierced your heart, acknowledging the potential of what could have been, now slipping through your fingers. His restraint cast a bitter aftertaste into the air, mingling with the still-lingering, undeniable pull that had initially drawn you together.

"Let's end this," he declared. It was a bittersweet end to a moment filled with longing, leaving you both with a lingering ache in your hearts, pondering over the alternate paths your relationship might have ventured down, given different circumstances.

"Satoru, wait—," your whisper barely tiptoed into the atmosphere, a delicate plea in its undertones. This resistance, the internal battle to admit that you want him, seemed almost a tangible pain running, threading through every fiber of your being.

"Go back to bed and rest," his words were cold. Without meeting your eyes, he turned and then left. His retreating footsteps echoed in the empty space.

He was gone.

And yet he took something invaluable with him. It struck you then, like a relentless tide battering the coast—you were in love with him. A love you'd refused to confess, and now it was exacting its price—costing you everything.

Now it was too late. The pain in your chest was unbearable. Your heart had become a prisoner to him, and there was nothing you could do to change that.

----------------

Another week passed, each day without Satoru's training sessions bringing you an unexpected sense of relief. The prospect of avoiding him had now become your silver lining, offering you a chance to breathe without the intensity of his presence bearing down on you. As you returned to the training grounds and joined your fellow teammates, you made an effort to maintain a facade of normalcy, concealing the inner conflict that still lingered beneath the surface.

Back to business.

Though it felt anything but normal. Every fiber of your being fought to avoid his gaze, to keep your distance from him as much as possible. However, given that he was your teacher, the task was almost impossible. You couldn't help but notice his every move, his every glance, the way his aura effortlessly commanded attention.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your training, your thoughts frequently strayed to the white-haired man who had turned your world upside down. However, his ability to act as if nothing between you two had happened sliced through you more deeply than anticipated.

Megumi seemed to sense the tension surrounding you. After the training session, he took you aside, "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice genuinely worried.

You tried to brush it off, thinking of a logical explanation. "No, it's nothing," you replied, although it was far from the truth. Being around Satoru was unbearable.

"it seems like you're not exactly at ease around Gojo?"

You shifted uncomfortably, "No, it's not like that," you replied, although it was precisely that. Damn it, could the others already sense it? You really weren't cut out for acting. Sensing your discomfort, he took a step back, realizing he might be prying too much.

"Sorry, forget it," they said gently, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I didn't mean to pry." You offered a strained smile, but it did little to mask your feelings, and he could tell.

After a moment, he changed the subject. "Have you seen the new movie coming out this week?" he asked, shifting the conversation to a lighter topic. "I really wanted to see it, but I guess the others aren't interested," he looked a bit embarrassed, his eyes averted as he continued. "It's an arthouse movie, so I understand if you don't want to see it either—"

"Yes!" you practically shouted, surprising him and even catching yourself off guard with the overwhelming enthusiasm in your response. The sheer excitement in your answer startled him, but he couldn't hide the subtle smile that tugged at his lips.

"So, Friday night?"

You nodded with a sense of anticipation, contemplating whether this could indeed be considered a date. You undeniably liked Megumi, there was no question about it, but Satoru's lingering presence still held a significant place in your thoughts and emotions. Whatever his intentions were in asking you out, you were determined to savor the moment and use it as a welcome distraction from the ever-present specter of Satoru.

The week raced by, and the anticipation of the upcoming movie date with Megumi was a delightful respite from Satoru—or, at the very least, a fleeting escape.

You had taken extra care in selecting your outfit for the occasion. Granted, it was just a trip to the cinema, and the dim lighting would shroud most details, but that hardly mattered. You wanted to feel pretty, if only for your own sake—and, naturally, for Megumi. Standing before the mirror, you painstakingly fine-tuned the last wisps of your hair when a message from him bathed your phone's screen in a soft glow.

"I'll be waiting outside the dormitory."

A subtle smile curved the corners of your lips as you retrieved your bag, your steps carrying you downstairs with an air of confidence. However, fate had a surprise in store for you as you descended the stairs, your world colliding with an unforeseen obstacle.

Satoru stood mere steps below, an inscrutable barrier in your path, showing no signs of yielding. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze locked with his, momentarily stealing your breath. You attempted to avert your eyes and continue on your way, but he remained resolute, refusing to release you from his hold. This can't be real.

"This is ridiculous, Satoru," you said, anger dripping from your voice. His arm formed an unyielding blockade, his hand clinging to the stair railing.

Raising an eyebrow, he can't suppress a slight smirk. "Oh, 'Satoru' is it?"

"Perhaps 'jerk' would be more fitting," you lock eyes with him, your stare unwavering, his smirk vanishing.

He leaned in, narrowing the gap, his words a sultry whisper against your defiance. "Stubborn as always, huh?" His eyes linger over your form, protective, possessive even. "But I can't allow you to leave with him, not looking like—this."

"Your insecurity is showing."

A silent clash of wills ensues, gazes locked in a wordless combat. How could this man have the audacity to leave you languishing in vain, only to come back, causing chaos within you once more?

"Do you really want to go—with him?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft but tinged with darkness, a tone impossible to ignore. Reluctantly, you met his gaze once more. His usually bright blue eyes now looked tired and dull.

"Yes, I do."

"You're lying."

"I'm not," you replied, avoiding his gaze.

His grip on the railing tightened, his fingers whitening with the force of his grasp. His eyes bored into yours, unrelenting. "You can't even look me in the eye when you say that."

"What do you want from me, Satoru?"

He continued to draw nearer, his arms closing around you until you had no choice but to lean against the stair railing, seeking any distance you could find. "You know what I want" he shot back sharply, his steps closing the distance between you. You could already feel the reassuring warmth of his body, a sensation you had missed painfully. Satoru's gaze lingering on your eyes, then descending to your lips before returning to meet your gaze.

"I can't give you that, you know that."

"That's not fair," he said softly, his lips almost brushing against yours. "Why must you be the one I can't resist?" His voice trailed off. You were only centimetres away from him, and the proximity was almost unbearable. Yet you couldn't move away, trapped in the magnetic field of his presence.

A tempest of frustration swirled within, grappling with the unfairness of it all. Somehow, two souls stumbled upon each other, yet faltered at acknowledging their own feelings, straining to shroud them. Maybe it was fear, maybe something else—but why? Why did he persist, nudging you towards confession, acknowledging that undeniable something, that magnetic pull that irresistibly drew you together? He wanted your confession. But voicing it meant a point of no return, and that path was littered with trouble.

Yet, an undeniable, searing ache, an insatiable yearning, had been quietly brewing from that very first encounter. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a bewitching heat you'd covertly longed for. His eyes, alight with a ravenous kind of wanting, delicately traced every curve and nuance of your face, engraving each detail as if to preserve it within his very being.

Then a voice called your name, like a saving grace in this moment. Megumi rounded the corner, and peripherally you perceived him, while your gaze stubbornly remained tethered to Satoru. You caught a flicker of change in Satoru's expression. And, reluctantly, he let you walk away.

You made your way towards Megumi, who was visibly stunned by the unusually intimate scene he'd stumbled upon between you and Satoru. Your heart pounded fiercely, the ghost of Satoru's warm breath still haunting your lips. "Don't ask," you uttered quickly, seizing Megumi's wrist and pulling him along with you.

----------------

Satoru's been absent for a stretch now, and the void, bereft of any news about him, nags at you like an itch forever just out of reach. Weeks have slipped by since that painful moment on the stairs, and his face has been absent since.

While you grapple with the suddenness of his leaving, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi seem remarkably unbothered. To them, Satoru vanishing on some mission or another secretive undertaking is nothing new. But for you, it's a whole different story. You can't push away the persistent worry that perhaps, his departure has something to do with you.

Memories of him rewind and play back in your mind. Those eyes of Satoru, deep pools that kept their secrets well. His hair, a cascade of silver under the morning sun's tender kiss. Every detail, every secret exchange of looks, every hushed word—it all reverberates through your thoughts.

"Why didn't he take us with him?" Yuji's lament yanked you back to the here and now, his question lingering heavily in the room.

Your head tilted slightly, thoughts swirling around the question. Indeed, it's been an age since you and Satoru teamed up for a mission, especially a demanding one. Recently, your assigned missions have been relatively straightforward, almost as though fate decided you needed to be consumed with other matters—such as your personal life, which has been in a troubled state since your last encounter with the white-haired sorcerer.

"He must have his reasons," Megumi responded, his tone carrying a nuance of comprehension that only further piqued your interest about Satoru's whereabouts.

After that date—or whatever that was—you and Megumi had developed a closer friendship. The times shared together evolved into treasured recollections, and, unknowingly, Megumi became your comfort, a diversion from the turmoil that was Satoru Gojo.

The initial escape from your thoughts about Satoru proved fleeting. In the first few weeks following his disappearance, your mind relentlesslyrevolved around him, despite your best efforts to suppress those thoughts. But as the months rolled on, the fervor of your emotions began to wane. Six months down the line, memories of Satoru seemed to recede into the backdrop. However, it had become unusual for him to be absent for such prolonged periods. The school concocted various imaginative excuses for his extended disappearances, but your attention to them had long since dwindled.

In a sense, his absence became a bittersweet relief. The agony of his presence, laced with unresolved feelings and lingering tension, was replaced by a serene calm. Breathing became a little easier without his looming presence subtly permeating every moment.

"Move over!" Nobara snapped at Yuji, who was hogging more than his fair share of space in front of the bonfire. The tail end of summer was nearing, and the school had arranged a bonfire to herald the onset of autumn.

You and your squad picked a spot distanced from the main throng. As the night unfolded, the levels of alcohol imbibed seemed to surge, and it was both hilarious and slightly alarming to witness your typically stoic superiors in such an unruly condition. Especially Yuji and Nobara appeared to have delved a tad too much into their beverages, with their speech beginning to blur.

Only Megumi and you kept things a bit restrained, partly out of necessity, because someone had to keep tabs on the others. This wasn't the first time a boozy get-together might devolve into scuffles or something worse.

"Come on, have another!" Nobara slurred, trying to coax Megumi, who declined with a courteous shake of his head.

"You're no fun!" she scowled, eyeing you with your water glass. "Both of you!"

"Somebody's got to keep an eye on you, especially when you're this plastered," you responded, a hint of dutifulness in your tone, considering the lively bonfire nearby.

She took an additional gulp from her glass, mumbling to herself, "You two act like an old married couple."

The comment threw you for a loop. Were you two actually that close? The idea stuck with you, even as Yuji jumped in, your unease evidently clear. "Why don't you two go out on a date?" he blurted, suddenly turning your relationship into the new subject of discussion.

Megumi, picking up on your discomfort, stepped in. "Stop spouting nonsense. Have some water," he voiced, a twinge of irritation lacing his words.

Megumi shifted towards you, a comforting expression in his eyes. "Ignore them," he suggested, and you managed a fragile smile in thanks. He tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but before he could, Maki wandered over, delivering news that thrust your heart into a fleeting panic.

"Did you hear that Gojo's back in town?" Maki tossed the words into the space between you, and they hung there, pulling a tangible tension down around the group.

What?

"He's back? How do you know?" Megumi asked. Maki simply shrugged, her face hinting at the confidential nature of the information. "Guess it's supposed to be a secret."

"A secret?" Yuji jumped in, his expression one of outright disbelief. "Why would his return be under wraps?" Nobara piped up with her own musings. "It's not like he's ever been one to keep things low-key."

Maki responded with a flicker of irritation. "Don't ask me, hat's just what I've heard," she retorted before making herself comfortable with the group.

A whirlwind of thoughts began to spiral in your mind. Satoru was back? For how long? Why hadn't he made his way back to school? Where in the world had he been? Anxiety flowed through your veins, your throat constricting and fingers chilling in response.

"I need to—uh, grab a drink," you mumbled, desperate for an excuse to have a minute alone to gather your thoughts, justifying your abrupt leaving. Maki released a weary sigh, and given the inebriated state of the rest, they probably didn't fully grasp your sudden shift, so you swiftly made your exit from the group.

"I'll check on her," Megumi stated, his concern readily apparent. Maki showed a practiced nonchalance as Megumi rose and trailed after you.

Distancing yourself from the bonfire's warmth, you sought seclusion away from the prying eyes and merry sounds of the gathering. Your pace quickened, almost to a fledgling run, as though trying to escape something invisible yet pervasive.

Megumi managed to catch up with you, his sturdy grip encircling your wrist gently. "Are you all right?" As you turned towards him, you couldn't quite mask the frightened look etched into your features.

"What wrong?"

"I just need some fresh air," your voice betrayed you, fluttering unsteadily. Megumi's gaze, unyielding and firm, penetrated your facade. "Don't give me that crap," he responded with unwavering firmness. "I know something went down with Gojo."

Your heartbeat staggered, skipping its rhythmic pace momentarily. He knew? But to what extent? Panic began swelling within your chest. "No, all's good," you stammered, your voice fluttering like a lone leaf caught in a tempest.

Megumi's eyes softened, his breath escaping in a sharp exhale. "You want to see him?" His words, a gentle whisper, hovered in the chilly air between you.

"See him?" Confusion replaced your fear. The possibility hadn't even occurred to you, and you wondered what Megumi was alluding to.

"I knew he was back since yesterday. I didn't tell you because I had no idea what was going on."

Your eyes lingered on him, unable to process the flood of thoughts and feelings this revelation had unleashed. It had been an eternity since you'd laid eyes on Satoru, since his voice had caressed your ears, or you'd shared words with him. The mere inkling of his return rendered you motionless.

"You don't need to spell it out. It's not my place," Megumi continued, infusing empathy into his voice. "I'll slide you his address. You navigate from there."

With a swift glance at his phone, Megumi dispatched a message to you, delivering the address.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"You're my friend," he declared briefly, his gaze steadfast, anchoring into your eyes. "You matter to me."

Megumi.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

You took a heartbeat to contemplate, then gently shook your head. "No, I'll be fine," you affirmed. Megumi responded with a supportive grin. "But I'll give him hell if he hurt you again," he appended, a speck of protective fervor dancing in his tone. It was enough to coax a small, genuine chuckle from you, "Thank you."

----------------

The rain was relentless, pouring down like a deluge. The campfire must have gone out long ago, you thought as you followed the route through the downpour on your smartphone. Strands of wet hair clung to your face despite your best efforts to brush them away. You barely noticed the cold rain, your mind focused on one thing—Satoru Gojo.

Finally, you arrived at a massive building in the heart of Tokyo. You entered the large lobby of the new building and searched for Satoru's name in the elevator directory. "At the top, then," you muttered to yourself. It struck you that Satoru must have had considerable wealth to afford an apartment in such a prime location, let alone the penthouse.

The lift ride to the top took only a few seconds, but it felt like an agonising eternity. Doubts and fears swirled inside you. Was he even there? What if he didn't want to see you? But now it was too late—the lift doors slid open and at the end of the corridor you saw his nameplate on the wall. With every ounce of courage you could muster, you pressed the doorbell and brushed the wet strands of hair from your face. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing the person you had both longed for and tried to forget.

"Why are you all wet?" the white-haired man asked.

"It's raining," you replied curtly, water droplets glistening on your clothes. Satoru stepped aside and let you in.

"Didn't bring an umbrella?" his question was coupled with a playful smirk as he lobbed a towel in your direction. You caught it, the soft fabric a comforting presence in your hands.

"As if that's what you want to know right now," you countered, emotions churning violently within, far more overwhelming than the rain that had soaked you to the bone.

Standing in the middle of the living room, you could hardly believe the breathtaking view that stretched before you. The massive glass walls offered a panoramic view of more than half of Tokyo. It felt like the perfect place for tourists to view the city from above, although you couldn't begin to imagine the astronomical rent for such an apartment.

Satoru walked around the sofa and sat down, his casual posture a sharp contrast to the tense atmosphere enveloping the room. Lost in the mesmerizing scenery beyond the window, you hadn't noticed that you had been silent for a while. It was he who disrupted it, his voice laced with a teasingly sarcastic undertone. "It's quite inappropriate for a student to bother his teacher in private at home."

"Bother?" You swiveled towards him, an amused twinkle flickering in your gaze. "Certainly. You appear immensely busy, lounging in your sweatpants with chips on your table," you retorted, a playful smirk playing on your lips.

"Unbelievably busy," Satoru shot back, his voice steeped in irony as he leisurely strolled to join you by the window. "In fact, I have been busy avoiding you." The room sank back into an imposing silence, its weight suffocating within the dimly illuminated space.

"Where have you been?" Your inquiry cut through the stillness.

"Were you not planning to take your anger out on me?" Satoru responded, sidestepping your question with ease.

"I am."

Satoru lingered just a step behind you, hands casually tucked into his sweatpants, eyes gazing over the rain-soaked vastness of Tokyo beyond the window. His sheer proximity seemed to suffocate, pressing an invisible weight against your chest.

"I'm so damn angry at you," your admission hung vulnerably in the space between you, your thoughts racing. "And I'm terrified of getting hurt even more."

"Why are you here, then?" His voice was a bare whisper, coarse and soft.

"You know exactly why I'm here," your tone, wavering between resolve and vulnerability, filled the room, "—you've always been able to read me like a book, remember?"

"I know," Satoru replied, and silence enveloped the room once more. It was a kind of silence that, curiously, didn't breed discomfort. Rather, it served as a relief from the bottled up pain you both held, a momentary escape from the heartache of the past, even though confronting it was inevitable.

His eyes anchored themselves on you. Meanwhile, your eyes lingered on the sprawling city below, watching as rain painted everything with a glossy sheen. You broke the silence first, "I've missed you," each word cut your throat like blades.

"I did the same as you," Satoru finally broke the silence. "—find someone else." His words lingered, offering an unwanted reality for you to digest.

"And how'd that play out for you?"

"Well, here I am, ain't I?" Satoru's retort was playful yet drenched in self-mockery as he took another step towards you, his form casting a looming shadow over you, his breath whispering across your shoulder.

"I realized, after cycling through all those faces, it was your damn face I was searchin' for in every one of them," he confessed, his voice low, burdened with a self-loathing that gripped his words. Exhaling a deep sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair, agitation palpable in his every move. "How messed up is that—"

"Why did it have to end like this?" you wondered aloud, more to yourself, to him, or to the universe, demanding no specific answer.

"Why?" His gaze drifted. "Suppose I'm just a damn coward."

"You're right," your agreement was blunt, unsparing. "So, you're you done with that?"

"Done with what?" Satoru's asked, fingers gently trailing down the side of your neck, causing a cascade of shivers down your spine. In that electrified stillness, the warmth of Satoru's breath against your skin sending a rush of conflicting emotions through you. The proximate intimacy—all too much yet not enough at the same time.

"—done running away,'" you said firmly, turning to face him. His ice-blue eyes locked with yours, burrowing into you with a force that seemed poised to shatter your very core. It had been so long since you had been this close to him, yet it felt instantly right, as if you had never really been apart.

"This is gonna get us into a lot of trouble," he whispered, a solitary finger delicately tracing the contour of your lower lip.

"Don't care," you said, the yearning for that long-overdue kiss evident in your eyes.

"We might catch hell at school for this," he warned, his tone half teasing, half serious, as if trying to persuade you to reconsider your actions. But having walked half of Tokyo under a weeping sky, retreat was not an option. Your heart ached for the kiss you'd craved, the flavor of his lips that had lingered in your dreams.

"I couldn't care less," you breathed out, the sound of your voice almost lost beneath the thunderous beating of your own heart. Satoru's gaze locked with yours, a magnetic pull that left your breath hitching in your chest. His lips, tantalizingly close to yours, promised the allure of a kiss forbidden. Every ounce of reason told you to pull back, to resist the gravitating force between you and Satoru Gojo, yet resistance was futile.

"So, say it," his voice, a commanding whisper. He needed your confirmation, your expressed desire as the only thing capable of holding him back from giving into the longing. He needed to hear you voice your want for him.

"I've wanted you, Satoru—," you breathed, your whisper brushing his lips, "—since the first moment I saw you."

Satoru grinned as he leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a heated murmur before his lips crushed against yours, a teasing promise of what was to come. You felt your heart racing, your body responding to his closeness, the intensity of his gaze. The world seemed to disappear around you, leaving only the two of you in this charged moment.

Satoru's kiss was desperate, a clash of lips and tongues that spoke of a hunger that had been denied for too long. It was a release of all the pent-up feelings that had simmered between you, a passionate declaration of desire mixed with a deep affection that could no longer be ignored.

Satoru's strong fingers closed around your neck, the touch both commanding and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. With his other hand, he pressed your hip firmly against him, his desire evident in the way his body pressed against yours.

You struggled to catch your breath, the intensity of his kisses leaving you breathless and yearning for more. But in that moment, you found a strange and exhilarating solace in the overwhelming passion that had enveloped you. If this was how it was going to end, if you were going to suffocate in his kisses, it would be a beautiful, evil death, you thought. His lips devoured yours, and as you gasped for breath between heated kisses, you realised that surrendering to this powerful attraction was inevitable.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he confessed, his voice a deep, sensual murmur that sent tingles running along your spine.

Satoru's words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation as he gasped, his breath warm against your ear. His dark eyes bored into yours, a storm of desire and longing swirling within them. The tension in the room crackled with an electric energy and you could feel the magnetic pull between you and Satoru, a force neither of you could resist.

He turned you gently, his fingers grazing your skin like a whisper, and pressed you firmly against the cold windowpane. The cityscape outside seemed to blur as your heart raced in response to the sudden intensity of his touch. Satoru's hands moved from the window to your waist, his touch setting your skin on fire as he pulled you closer, his body pressed against yours, moulding to your contours.

Satoru's touch was both insistent and gentle as he used a firm grip on your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck to his relentless kisses. Your breath caught and a sensual moan escaped your parted lips as the soft, heated caress of his mouth traced a trail of fire across your sensitive skin. Your body responded instinctively, seeking his warmth and closeness, pressing against him.

As his lips worked their magic on your neck, you felt a fierce desire build between you, a pull that defied all reason. His hands moved, fingers intertwining with yours, still pressed tightly against the cool window. The contrast between the cold glass and the searing heat of his touch only added to the intensity of the moment.

His body pressed against yours and you could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire, an exciting bulge rubbing against you, sending waves of desire through your body.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement heightened the tension between you and Satoru, a palpable electricity sizzling in the air. The forbidden allure of the moment was intoxicating and you found yourself completely lost in the whirlwind of passion that had swept you both away, knowing that there was no turning back from the depths of desire that had been unleashed.

"Satoru," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea as he tightened his grip around your throat, a mixture of desire and surrender in your eyes. His fingers slid sensuously along your lips, igniting a simmering fire within you that threatened to consume your very being. The growing heat in your body seemed to tear you apart, your every nerve alive with desire. You craved more, yearned for it with an intensity that shook you to your core. For so long you had imagined what it would feel like to be kissed by him, but now that it was happening you couldn't get enough.

In a desperate burst of passion, you broke free of his grip and turned to face him. Despite your determination, he, a head taller and undeniably stronger, effortlessly pinned you back against the window once more. The cool glass pressed against your overheated skin as he pulled you into another rough, consuming kiss, leaving you no room to assert control.

Your fingers instinctively clawed at his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin fabric as you gasped for air, the world outside the window a distant blur as your senses were drowned in a whirlwind of sensations and emotions. The fierce urgency of your encounter heightened the tension between you and Satoru, making every stolen moment together an electrifying, unforgettable experience.

His gaze bored into your soul, searching for any hint of surrender, while your heart raced in response to his closeness. You knew that surrendering to him meant losing yourself in the whirlwind of passion that seemed to follow him like a magnetic force, but you were determined not to let go of the reins just yet.

With a gentle but firm push, you held him at arm's length, your hand pressed firmly against his chest. He stared at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous gleam that made your knees tremble. Gojo Satoru was a master at this game of desire and he knew exactly how to keep you on edge.

"Afraid?" he hissed, his voice a seductive melody that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers danced slowly down your arm, teasing your skin as they went. "Or are you just testing how much control you have over me?"

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure as he peeled off his shirt with unhurried grace, revealing a chiseled chest that was a masterpiece of temptation.

The tension between you and Satoru escalated as you approached him. "Afraid of you?" you whispered. With a subtle yet bold move, you pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble and fall onto the sofa behind him. "—afraid that you might enjoy it too much to resist," he huffed.

The seconds felt like hours as you held your ground, resisting the magnetic pull that was Gojo Satoru. His grin only deepened, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. You couldn't help but admire the confidence he exuded, even as your own resolve wavered.

"Are you?" you hissed, sitting down on his lap. His surprise at your assertiveness only increased the tension between you, but he didn't utter a word of protest, allowing you to straddle his desire-fuelled anticipation.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," Satoru moaned, his breath hitching with every languid up and down movement you made. Satoru surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, savouring every moment of your tantalising touch. His strong hands traced the contours of your body, stoking the fire between you, and soft, uncontrollable moans slipped past his parted lips as you pressed harder against him.

Satoru's gaze met yours, his eyes smoldering with desire as you moved your hips teasingly around his eager shaft.

"I can't hold back any longer," he moaned, his voice filled with longing. "Let me fuck you already."

In response to his passionate plea, you silenced him with a deep, soulful kiss, and that was all the permission he needed. Satoru's hands found your waist and with a swift, intense motion he flipped you onto your back, his powerful presence now towering over you, ready to consume the fierce desire that had built up between you.

Your wrists were locked firmly in his grip, held securely above your head as he pressed your chest against his. His skilled fingers wasted no time in finding their way to your trousers. With a single, purposeful motion, he unfastened them and slid them down, exposing the smoldering passion that had been hidden beneath.

Sator's desire surged with each passing moment, his excitement intensifying as he meticulously, almost agonisingly, traced circles with his skilled fingers over the damp fabric of your underwear. His breath caught at the sight of your outrageous pleasure, his eyes growing increasingly intense.

"I want you so badly," Satoru whispered huskily, his lips trailing along your body, heading south. "Satoru, please," you begged, your voice shaking with frustration. The air was thick with anticipation and you couldn't stand the relentless tension any longer.

But he remained maddeningly patient, his eyes locked with yours, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. His fingers trailed along the edge of your underwear, tugging teasingly at the fabric before finally relenting and pulling it aside. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned closer, his hot breath sending shivers through your body.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise before his lips fell on your throbbing core. A gasp escaped your lips as his tongue met your most sensitive spot and a moan followed as he began a slow, painful exploration.

The sensations were exquisite, his tongue moving languidly, each flick sending waves of pleasure through you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate dance. He began agonisingly slowly, tracing delicate patterns with his tongue that made you arch your back in sweet torment.

As the intensity increased, so did the urgency in your moans. His pace quickened, his movements more fervent, matching the wild rhythm of your own desire. You writhed beneath him, lost in the electrifying connection, your pleas for release growing more desperate as you stood on the brink of an explosive climax.

Satoru's gaze remained fixed on you, his dark eyes burning with desire as he continued to tease you relentlessly, just as eager to drive you to the brink of release.

With every passionate moan that escaped your lips, he couldn't resist any longer. He decided he wanted to be the one to push you over the edge. Two fingers slid inside you, one after the other, causing you to gasp sharply. Your tight, wet heat clenched around his penetrating digits and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"You're so hot," he whispered huskily, his fingers expertly exploring the depths of your desire. He knew exactly where to touch, where to press and how to drive you wild.

His tongue continued its tantalising dance around your swollen clit, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. The combined assault of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through your body, building your arousal to a fever pitch. As he slid his fingers along the intimate contours inside you, he zeroed in on that sweet spot that made you arch your back and cry out his name.

"Not yet," he whispered, his breath hot against your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips brushed lightly across your skin as he moved up to you again. Your senses were on fire with desire, your body aching for him.

He reached for something on the coffee table, his movements confident and purposeful. With a quick motion he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the loose boxers that barely hid his growing erection. The sight of him, so close yet teasingly out of reach, sent a surge of desire through you.

You wanted him with a desperation you didn't know was possible. The circumstances were complicated, teacher and student, a forbidden union that promised trouble. But in this moment, none of that mattered. You were lost in the intensity of your desire, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

As your thoughts swirled with the forbidden nature of your liaison, you failed to notice that Satoru had already wrapped himself in a condom and was now positioned at your entrance.

"We can stop anytime," he panted, his voice thick with desire, his dark eyes locked on yours. It was a feeble offer, given the point of no return you'd already reached, but you chose not to respond with words. Instead, you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a fervent, hungry kiss. It was a passionate affirmation, your answer to his unspoken question.

Satoru seemed to enjoy your reaction and without further hesitation he thrust into you with an urgency that left you gasping for breath. His entry was swift and unyielding, and there was no time to get used to his size. You moaned his name as he pulled you tightly against him, the sensation of his body merging with yours overwhelming your senses.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both as he held you in his arms, his thrusts driven by a hunger that had been building for what seemed like an eternity. His moans mingled with yours, a symphony of desire that filled the room as he thrust deeper and harder, as if he'd been longing for this moment for years.

Satoru's snow-white hair cascaded around his face, obscuring his eyes as he continued his relentless rhythm. His forehead pressed gently against yours, and his fingers intertwined with yours as he quickened his pace. You couldn't help but wrap yourself around him, the pleasure overwhelming you as you arched your back off the sofa.

"God," Satoru's desperate moans filled the air, his voice a fervent plea as he plunged deeper into you. His lips sought comfort against your neck, a primal instinct to muffle his own cries of pleasure.

As the heat between you and Satoru increased, you could feel how close you were— and how close he was. He could feel it too, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to look up at him. To look at him as you came around him. And so did he. You could feel him pouring his load into you, feel the tension release from both of you and fuck did it feel good.

Satoru let go of your jaw and exhaled heavily, "Fuck," he breathed out before his lips curved into a cocky grin. He backed away from you and slowly pulled his length out of you.

He looked at you with those piercing, stormy eyes, a mischievous gleam hidden in their depths. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, a testament to the forbidden passion that had ignited between you. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he whispered, his voice laced with danger, "You're really getting me into trouble."

You struggled to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to organise the chaotic whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. Yes, he was your teacher, and while the consequences of this illicit rendezvous loomed in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the overwhelming pull that drew you closer.

In the hazy aftermath, you found yourself staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his piercing, icy blue gaze locked with yours. "As if you're going to follow rules," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to regain your composure.

Satoru couldn't help but chuckle, a deep, seductive sound. "You're right about that," he admitted, his voice laced with a dangerous edge that sent a thrill through you. His hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers tracing a tantalising path along your skin. You knew you were playing with fire, but at that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

----------------

You awoke in the middle of the night, your heart still racing. The room was shrouded in shadows, but your senses were sharply aware of the man lying beside you in bed—Satoru Gojo. With the utmost caution, you slipped from under the sheets, your every movement seemingly unnoticed by his tranquil form. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow on his chiseled features. Satoru appeared to be in a deep sleep as you made your way to the kitchen.

You grabbed a glass and filled it with water, thinking about how you'd ended up here. The living room, still in disarray from your heady night, served as a reminder of what had happened just hours before. You hadn't bothered to tidy up—it was as if you'd left a trail of your intimacy for everyone to see. Your smartphone interrupted your thoughts, the screen flashed with a message from Megumi.

"Everything okay? You with Gojo?"

A tender smile played on your lips as you replied, "I'm fine. I'm with Satoru."

His reply came swift, "I'm glad you're safe," warming a little corner of your heart with its sincerity.

Megumi, with his soft and ever-supportive nature, was like a comfy pillow that was always there. Even though he might've not been the biggest fanof your whole situation with Satoru, he stuck around, always keeping an eye out for you.

You tiptoed back into the bedroom, chilly nighttime breezes whispering in through the open window. Satoru didn't stir, lost deep in his dreams. The thing between you and Gojo Satoru was like this wild, magnetic pull, ticking and tocking, drawing you in closer, second by second.

However, underneath the gentle glow of the moon, spilling into the quiet room, you wondered: just how much more wild and heady could this secret thing between you two get? Thoughts about what's next cast long shadows across your mind, but you shushed them for now. Tomorrow might be a day for doubts and facing the consequences, but tonight, tonight was all yours.

next chapter ->

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you

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darkmuffinstudios · 8 days

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[rolls in]

I've always, for the longest time, head-canoned that when Nightmare and Dream ate their respective apples and subsequently fused with them in the process, that they also *became* the apples in a sense?

Basically what I'm saying is that since the tree was cut down/died due to the events of Dreamtale, that they, themselves, became the two sides of the tree. While the tree was in its prime, it regulated all of the emotions and balance in the whole multiverse. However, because of the apple incident, Nightmare and Dream now take on the duty that the tree once had; regulating the emotions of the multiverse individually.

Hence they're constant struggle with one another.

As eternal, long-living beings of their respective roles, I doubt they would stay mad at each other forever- at least to the degree that it was initially after the tragedy in Dreamtale. This would make a truce somewhat inevitable- or at least a mutual understanding and respect for each other's jobs.

(I think this could, of course, vary depending on the way you depict their relationship, backstory, powers, situation, and the story at large)

Anyways, going back to what I was originally getting at before being sidetracked, they are- essentially- the tree itself.

In a weird way, I always thought that it was a little strange that eating the golden apples didn't seem to have any consequences as opposed to the negative ones (example being Nightmare violently being ripped apart and literally dying- but that can be dubious because, from my understanding, that was partially the main antagonist's influence on the apples??).

Again, not addressing canon and what the original had in mind, I think it would be interesting that slowly, over time, the tree starts to grow back through them.

Think of it as a way of aging for these immortals. After all, apples have seeds, so one would assume that they'd eventually sprout after enough time and nourishment (via the abundance of emotions and just generally taking care of themselves). Eventually, they'll have to create their own guardians to carry on their work, and the cycle continues after they die.

What I imagine is a weird mesh of hanahaki disease and the philosophy of cycles, in where when the two twins eventually pass, they will become the new trees in its place. Over time, while doing their jobs and fulfilling their roles, roots may start to sprout from their ribcage, followed by leaves. It would be cute at first, little leaves and branches that are harmless. But then, as time continues, more and more of their body gets overtaken with it.

But again, these changes would happen gradually over the course of their long, LONG lifespans. When it starts getting to the point of detriment to them, then they've probably lived hundreds of lifetimes over already.

I don't know, I just think it's an interesting idea to head-canon about, and a cool excuse to draw the twins with plant-like roots stretching out of them.

(some little examples I have of the idea I've drawn YEARS ago and as of recent. ignore the quality of my old art fosjigjiosjosgijiosg)

(also WIP jumpscare of a Shattered Dream interpretation I have been working on a little oogily boogily osgjiosgs)

#darkzyx #undertale au #undertale fandom #utmv #dreamtale #nightmare sans #dream sans #dark rambling #dark ramble #dark brain thoughts

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bratzforchris · 6 days

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Inked Daisies (Chapter 1)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: There will be individual warnings for each chapter. No warnings in this one!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Soooo...my first series on here ♡ In this universe, Matt has a nose ring and his usual tattoos, plus some other tats and piercings that'll be added later hehe<3 Let me know how you like it!! 💐💐

“Nope,” Matt shook his head as you stepped inside the shop, looking at you from behind the counter. “You can’t bring those in here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the small Mason jar of flowers down on the glass case that held a variety of glittering body jewelry. “They’re flowers, Matt. Not a bomb.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask. Plus, they ruin the look.” Matt kept his eyes trained on whatever he was looking at on his laptop, but you could see a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re so grumpy,” You tsked, maneuvering yourself behind the counter and peering over his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Matt sighed, running his hands through his hair and spinning himself around in his chair to look at you. “This dude keeps changing his fucking design even though he’s put his deposit down. And guess what? His appointment’s tomorrow,” he sighed again, brushing a hand across his nose. “Fuck, I forgot that’s a new piercing.”

Your face dropped into a pout at Matt’s stress. You had known him since freshman year when you had become friends with Chris and the other two triplets by extension. Although you didn’t see all the inner workings of Matt’s mind, you knew that he struggled with anxiety and stress. A particular instance at Six Flags during your sophomore year had told you that much.

“Let’s see the design,” You offered, filling up a paper cup from the water jug behind the counter. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to make him happy.”

“What? Give him the tattoo for free and then change once it’s already on his body?” Matt raised a brow at you as you poured the water into the jar of flowers.

“You’re such a pessimist, Matt,” You shook your head, placing the now-full jar of flowers next to his computer. “If it helps take away the awful, vile sight of big, scary flowers, these are the outcasts. Their stems were too short and a few of them are missing some petals. They’re the rejects.”

Owning a florist’s shop had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. You had been captivated by flowers since the day your granny had taken you into her expertly tended garden, leading you around and telling you all the meanings for the different plants. In a way, it almost felt like you were carrying on her legacy by owning such a dainty, girly shop that sold her favorite things. Maybe she wouldn’t have liked the fact that your shop was directly across the street from an all black tattoo and piercing parlor that just so happened to be owned by your best friend’s brother, but she definitely would’ve liked the aesthetic of your business.

You drew yourself out of your thoughts, pulling up the chair of another piercer who had left earlier in the day. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Matt moved a few things around on his laptop, opening up Procreate and clicking onto a design. In your opinion, it was absolutely gorgeous. The tall oak tree in the drawing had large branches that extended outwards, but instead of leaves, the tree held clocks that were all stuck at midnight. Underneath the actual drawing was the carefully lettered sentence ‘Until Time Stops’ in swirly letters that matched the chains of the clocks.

“That’s beautiful,” You said softly, your eyes entranced by the drawing. “It’s…wow, it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so too.” Matt mumbled, clearly more lost in his artistic mind than here with you.

This reminded you of the nights during high school sleepovers. Chris and Nick would pass out early, leaving just you and Matt. You both struggled with insomnia, so some nights you would both stay up, pouring over the brunette’s sketchbook together while Matt explained each and every drawing in great detail to you. You had noticed that, similar to you, Matt had an eye for the natural world. You’d never brought this notice up to him of course, but you often thought about it during the early morning hours when you were doing opening duties in the shop while waiting for your employees to arrive.

“But he doesn’t like it, so it’s a scrap,” Matt shrugged, closing out the application and leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. “God, I’m fucking tired.”

You sighed sympathetically, hopping out of the chair. “I understand. I guess I’d want something I really like if it’s going on my body permanently. Doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying, though.” You acknowledged, bustling around behind the counter as you stacked papers up, put pens back in their cups, and locked the jewelry case.

“I get that you like flowers and animals and shit, but you don’t have to do that. You’re not Cinderella. I’ll do it later.” he sighed.

“Later? Matt, it’s almost nine,” the only reason you had come into the shop in the first place was because you had finished cleaning and locking your own store rather early and had seen Matt sitting behind the counter. “You need to go home and eat and sleep. A) You gotta be hungry and B) No offense, but I wouldn’t want someone who’s sleep deprived to be giving me a tattoo or piercing.” You joked, bumping his shoulder lightly.

As if on cue, Matt’s stomach growled audibly, making him fidget with embarrassment, but not so much that he couldn’t open one blue eye to glare at you. “Says you. How many times have you gotten Astrids and Hydrangeas mixed up because you stayed up all night reading.” the brunette chuckled to himself, remembering the time that you had employed the triplets’ help to create a brand new bouquet less than an hour before a certain bridezilla’s wedding.

“Now that’s not fair and you know it.” You huffed.

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.” Matt insisted, smirking triumphantly once he saw you sigh in defeat.

“You’re annoying,” You grumbled. “I like Chris much better.”

“Sure ya do, sweetheart.” Matt didn’t even look in your direction as he closed his laptop, shoving it into his black tote bag.

Something about the way Matt said such a simple sentence had you fighting your blush, grabbing your own bag that you had sat down earlier. You tried to ignore the funny feeling in your stomach, fiddling with your phone while Matt finished the tasks you hadn’t completed. “You think Nick and Chris would kill me if I brought pizza over instead of their elaborate orders from five different restaurants?” You asked, eager to move your mind away from the implication of his words.

“You’re coming over?” Matt turned to look at you, an expression you couldn’t read on his face.

“Nick invited me. You know we don’t see each other as much as we did when we were kids. I miss our sleepovers.” You smiled softly.

Matt’s eyes crinkled with nostalgia. “Yeah, I remember that. They were kind of nice, I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to treat us like chumps. You got a girlfriend you’d rather be hanging out with or something?”

“No.” it was a single word, yet the boy’s tone changed from one of fondness to something much deeper and almost angrier.

“I’m sorry, I…” You trailed off, studying him as he picked up his bag, trying not to focus on the tattoos that snaked down his muscular arms and connected to the chunky, silver rings on his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore subject.” Even though you two were close, you knew Matt didn’t tell you everything about his life.

“Let’s just go, okay? I’m sure the ruffians are hungry.” he grumbled, walking towards the door.

You scrambled after your friend, each of his broad steps equaling four of yours. “They’re not so bad.”

“That’s because you don’t live with them,” Once you were both outside, Matt turned and locked the door to the shop behind him. “Trust me, when Chris burps in your face for the fiftieth time that day, it gets less funny and more annoying. Do you have a ride?”

“...no…” You admitted.

“Can no one in my life get their license?” Matt sighed, not even waiting for you as he started the trek to his car.

“Actually,” You corrected him, practically jogging to keep up. “I have my license. I’m just saving for a car.”

You believed city transportation was a perfectly valid form for getting from point A to point B, but as you slid into the passenger seat of Matt’s car, you couldn’t help but to admit that having your own personal vehicle was a much nicer alternative. Matt pulled out of the parking space without speaking, but you could feel his warm presence beside you in the car. As he migrated the car through the narrow city streets, you found yourself wondering what your life would be like if this is how every single day went for you. You knew Matt would drive you home in the evenings if you asked, but a part of you wanted to keep the rare occasion of rides together just that. Rare, special, something seemingly so mundane that it was almost silly you were even thinking about this.

Time spent alone with Matt was rare, despite working across the street from each other. Between being a triplet and your friendship with Chris, the one-on-one actions were few and far between. But for some reason, on nights like tonight, when you thought about how he interacted with you, you wished that you could make them happen over and over and over again.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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bvidzsoo · 12 days

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (8)

Chapter 8: Own My Mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: cursing

Word count: 8.3k

Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter and let me tell you, ever since I've started writing this there's been little changes to the plot here and there, but...we should all thank Song Mingi for the way he's been acting this weekend for bringing a major change to it (i wanna kms ha-ha *dies in pain*) Anyways, I have a love-hate relationship with that man right now, don't mind my dramatic ass. Please listen to Maneskin's Own My Mind before or while reading this chapter, just the usual! If you want to be added to this story's taglist, just leave a comment on this post and you'll be added! Also, the drawing our girlie is talking about that is on her bed (later in this chp.), is absolutely waterbomb Mingi and it's a call-back to chp. 4 hehet. I have a surprise at the end of this chapter lol. One last question and then I'm going, should I do a Q&A surrounding this story? Like, if you have any curiosities about it, you can send in an ask and I'll gladly answer it! ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this part and, as always, let me know your thoughts about it!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

I shivered as I hurriedly shrugged off my jacket, backpack discarded the second I stepped inside my warm home, the loud thunder cut short as Mingi quickly closed the front door behind himself, hissing and groaning. I turned my head to watch him struggle out of his worn-out jacket as I stepped out of my shoes, hardly believing that from just a few minutes out in the rain, even my socks got soaked. Mingi’s head shook as his body trembled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. He looked quite hilarious with his black hair sticking to his forehead, glasses so wet he couldn’t see through them anymore, loose clothing now sticking to his lean body like a second skin.

“What’s so funny?” Mingi playfully furrowed his eyebrows as he took his specks off, shaking the water off the glass, as wiping it against his already wet clothes wouldn’t have helped him in ridding his glasses of water.

“You.” I mumbled with a chuckle as I peeled my cardigan off, skin covered in goosebumps as my damp skin was exposed to the chilly air in the hallway. Mingi rolled his eyes, and placed his glasses back on as I took off towards the wardrobe by the stairs, chewing on my bottom lip. Mingi would have to change out of his wet clothes, unless we wanted him to catch a cold. I couldn’t leave him standing there like that, shivering and sniffing as he already sneezed loudly. His apology was sheepish, but I just flashed him a small smile before opening the heavy door of the wardrobe. There were minimal chances that the box I was looking for was still inside the wardrobe, considering the fact that my mother would go on a cleaning frenzy every month and throw out almost everything inside the house that she deemed unusable anymore. Therefore, there were almost one to zero chances that the box I so vividly remember having placed here ages ago, was still in its spot.

“Uh, do you think I could use the bathroom real fast?” Mingi asked, voice sounding unsure as I kneeled down in front of the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowing when I didn’t spot the box right away.

“One second, let me find something.” I called out, leaning forward as I pushed my mother’s long coats hanging in my face out of the way, and disappeared further into the wardrobe as I pushed and pulled at the thick blankets she kept in there. I thought about giving up for a second, about her having thrown out the contents of the box I was searching for, but I gasped when I felt the sturdy cartoon underneath my fingertips. With a triumphant smile, I pulled on it, a few scarfs and my very old Hello Kitty beanie falling out in the process. The box felt heavier than I remembered it to be, and my heart settled knowing that my mother didn’t throw it out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t start beating wildly once I sat back on my heels, box placed in front of me. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew right now that it wasn’t because of the chilly air and my damp skin. Whatever still remained inside this box…is what I never had the strength to throw out, to fully get rid of every memory lingering of Yunho. I gulped, chewing on my bottom lip as I hesitated opening it up. But there was another loud sneeze, and as I briefly glanced at Mingi, I couldn’t help but notice the light red tinge on his cheeks as he typed away on his phone, completely soaked. I really had no other choice but to open up the box of pandora.

And a lump formed in my throat when I finally opened it, a stale scent hitting my nose. My eyebrows furrowed when a golden butterfly necklace sat on top of everything, a harsh reminder of all the gifts Yunho would buy for me during our relationship. I have thrown out all the gifts, except this one. It was expensive, and frankly, too beautiful to be thrown out or gifted to anyone else. Gulping, I pushed the necklace aside and sighed as I dug around the box, jaw clenching at the three sketchbooks getting in my way. They were filled with drawings of Yunho and myself, of all the places we’ve been to, of all the places I have wished to visit with Yunho. Of all the memories we have once made, and of all the memories I wished we could’ve made. Being an artist was amazing, but at certain times it was a nightmare in disguise, brain able to conjure such vivid images that never happened, that it could fool me into thinking that they have actually happened. I sighed quietly as I felt eyes on me, and finally found what I was searching for. A fuzzy and faded knitted sweater, a plethora of colors mixed together, from beige to a light purple, black and silver in the mix too. I pulled it out of the box, together with the grey sweatpants, and cleared my throat as I stood, hands burning the longer I held the clothing in my hands. I felt guilty, almost disgusting as I neared Mingi again, trying to avoid his eyes as he had an easy look on his face, smiling despite continuously sniffing.

“These are the only male clothing we have in the house,” I said as I reached my hands out, looking at Mingi’s chest rather than eyes, “hopefully they’ll fit you.”

“And if they won’t, you can always give me one of your colorful fuzzy cardigans.” Mingi’s tone was playful and I chuckled, giving him a playful glare. Those cardigans would never fit his broad shoulders. The tightness was gone from my chest as Mingi took the clothes from my grasp, a thankful look on his face. The guilt remained, but it wasn’t so pressing anymore.

“You can change in the bathroom downstairs,” I pointed towards the closed door across from the wardrobe, “towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Do you need a hairdryer?”

Mingi shook his head with a smile and gave my soaked hair a light tap, “Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he seemed to linger on my name sent my heart into a dumb frenzy, and I found myself flustered beyond, emotion so foreign I forgot how to speak for a second. And Mingi didn’t miss it, fuck, because he walked away with a smug smile towards the bathroom and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect, before disappearing with a damn wink. I huffed, glaring daggers at the closed door as I scurried to shove everything fallen out back inside the wardrobe, closing its door rather harshly. I licked my chapped lips and raced up the stairs, throwing the door to my room open and taking a second to take in its state. My desk was messy, but that’s just how it always was, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I opened the blackout curtains, however, the weather already gloomy enough to cast shadows inside my dark room. I flinched as another thunder rumbled through the sky, and grabbed the first clothes I found in my closet, walking to the bathroom upstairs.

After having changed into wide legged leggings that had cotton on the inside, I quickly threw on a white tank top and a soft pink mock neck sweater, sighing in content as warmth finally enveloped my body after I have dried up the dampness on it with a towel. I skipped down the stairs as I had a towel around my head, messily towel drying my hair, completely missing the tall form standing at the foot of the stairs as I stumbled into him. I yelped, but Mingi quickly steadied me by the elbows. Before I had the chance to pull the towel off my head, two large hands grabbed at it and started softly rubbing the towel against my wet hair. I froze, everything inside me stopping as even my breath stilled, eyes wide open. Mingi said nothing as he continued with his actions, quietly humming to himself. I was afraid he’d be able to hear my loud heartbeat as I breathed through my mouth, lips parting as I struggled to calm down. I was thankful for the towel hiding my face, because I could feel the blush spreading down from my cheeks to my ears, and even neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I have blushed this hard, and it made me feel slightly disoriented. For God’s sake, Mingi was simply towel drying my hair for me, why was I having such a visceral reaction to it?! My mind seemed to be screaming at me, but I was too busy trying to regulate my breathing, doing so quietly, as Mingi’s hands became a little rougher, almost pulling on specific strands of hair. My eyes narrowed as he turned my head left to right to his likes, and I groaned as his fingers dug into my scalp.

“Hey, stop it!” I whined and slapped at his hand, making Mingi chuckle as he ruffled my hair to the point I had strands from the back falling into my eyes.

“Oh, good,” He was still chuckling, “for a second there I thought you had fallen asleep with how quiet you were.”

Despite not being able to see his face, or anything if I looked ahead, I could still peek down and see his feet. I was standing on the last step of the stairs, and with an evil grin, I jumped down, his naked toes falling victims to my attack. Mingi yelped loudly, and I cackled as I pulled the towel off my face, smiling at him smugly.

“Serves you right since my hair is all knotted up thanks to you.” I raised my eyebrows at him as Mingi had his right leg raised, massaging his toes with a pained expression.

“So you break my toes?!” He exclaimed, his deep tone a few octaves higher, making me snicker to myself as I threw the towel at him, making him yelp and look at me with an appalled expression on his face.

“Stop being a baby,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked towards the front door to lock it before I went inside the kitchen, “And wear some slippers before you come to the kitchen.”

Mingi was closely following behind me, ignoring my words, “What, one of your dwarf slippers? It’s either my toes or heels will be dangling off.”

The image was funny in my head, but I ignored it in order to throw him a scrutinizing look, “The tiles are cold in here, you’ll catch a cold.”

A wide smile spread on Mingi’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging underneath the tight fabric of the sweater, “You’re so cute when you worry about me, doll.”

There goes the pleasant exchange we’ve been having up until now. My voice became devoid of any expression besides the glare I threw at him, mirroring him as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not cute. I’m merely saying you’ll probably catch a cold since we’ve been out in the rain not even fifteen minutes ago. And since you’re a singer you should be taking a lot more care of yourself.”

Mingi remained silent for a few seconds, until I watched a light hue tinge his cheeks. Was he blushing because I was lecturing him? Just what in the hell?!

“You’re right, sorry.” Mingi mumbled, but showed no intentions of actually following through with my words as he walked further inside the room, sitting at the table, feet up on the chair as he hugged his long legs to his chest. For such a tall and broad man, he looked extremely tiny sitting on that chair right now.

“Uh,” A little confused by the turn of events, I looked around the kitchen, trying to remember the initial purpose of me coming here, “Right. You don’t like tea, so we have coffee or hot chocolate to warm us up, which one would you like?”

Mingi’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long, taking in my whole being before his eyes settled on my face again, a smile so genuine settling on his lips that his eyes were sparkling, “Hot chocolate is fine.”

I hummed, a little breathless, then turned to open the cabinet above the microwave to take out two tall mugs for the hot chocolate. For some reason, I didn’t mind Mingi’s eyes following my every move as I tinkered around in my kitchen, taking everything I needed in my hands to prepare them on the counter. The thought of having Mingi inside my home, sitting in my kitchen, wearing my ex’s clothes, acting like we’ve been friends since forever seemed to hit me at once as I froze for a second while pouring water inside the second mug, Mingi’s mug. And what was even more surprising was not finding any thoughts that suggested that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that Mingi didn’t belong inside my kitchen. I didn’t want to dwell more on why it all felt so right, so instead, I watched as the mugs whirled around in the microwave, locking these thoughts away for later…I knew they’d come back late at night to haunt me, it’s just how it always was.

Mingi clearing his throat gained my attention as I glanced back at him, and tried not to look too long. The way Yunho’s clothes perfectly fit Mingi’s form was alarming, albeit the sweatpants seemed to be slightly too long for Mingi. I’ve had Yunho’s clothes since highschool, which was a few good years ago, yet they still fit Mingi. It made me wonder if the two ever exchanged clothes or wore something matching, like best friends would do for fun. I know Yunho had once mentioned having matching rings with Mingi, but back then I was too jealous about their closeness to ask any further questions about any other matching items they had. And it was a little surprising just how well Mingi’s skin tone was complimented by the colors of Yunho’s old sweater, Mingi’s necklaces sitting on top of the knitted fabric. That sweater was one of my favorite’s while Yunho and I were dating, Yunho always seemed to be glowing when he wore it. At some point I had even forgotten that I still had it. Perhaps I should do something about the contents of that box, join my mother next month in her frenzy cleaning marathon and throw out its contents.

The microwave pinged and I took the two mugs out, realizing that Mingi and I had been staring at each other for at least a good minute, my cheeks flushed again. A soft chuckle was heard behind me, but I ignored it for my own sake. The silence didn’t last for longer as I opened the little packages containing the hot chocolate powder to pour into our cups, “This might sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this exact sweater on Yunho quite a few times.”

I froze, thankful that I had my back to Mingi as panic flashed over my face. Deep breaths, I had this. Mingi didn’t have to know, I could lie my way out of this. And so, I forced a small smile on my face as I faced him while walking to the fridge, “Really? Well, coincidence, maybe. It’s my cousin’s sweater, he forgot it here once, but as he lives overseas he never came to get it and my mother just placed it away for when he comes to visit us.”

I didn’t have one single male cousin. Let alone cousin’s that lived overseas.

“Oh,” Mingi mumbled as he picked at an undone string on the sleeve of Yunho’s sweater, “Yeah, that could be it, a coincidence, I mean. Besides, my memory is a little fuzzy, I might be wrong.”

I gulped away the guilt that suddenly bloomed in my chest and grabbed the whipped cream, raising it up, “Whipped cream for your hot chocolate?”

I grinned at Mingi as he slowly shook his head, “I drink it simple.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I walked back to the mugs, “Not even with marshmallows?”

Mingi shook his head with a small smile and so I mixed his powder with the warm water, handing it to him. Mingi had a fond smile on his lips when he took it, his cold fingers lightly brushing against mine, making me blush like a stupid schoolgirl who has a crush. And I do not have a crush on anyone, let alone on Song Mingi. I swiftly turned around, hoping that Mingi didn’t notice me blushing as I quickly put whipped cream in my hot chocolate and stuck two marshmallows in it, putting everything away quickly. I turned to face him as I took a sip, leaning against the counter. Mingi sat in a cross-legged position on the chair as he had the mug in his hands, ring clad fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes lingered on his painted nails, slowly trailing up to Mingi’s face. His black fluffy hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his sharp eyes slightly as they were devoid of the black eyeliner now, a few blemishes tainting his otherwise glowing skin around his jaw, glasses slipping low on his tall nose, and plump lips red and slightly wet from how much Mingi always licks his lips. The simplicity of his whole being has never looked more attractive than right now, and as Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I was startled by such alarming thoughts, and so I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Let’s go up to my room!” I called out, on the brink of crying from all these stupid emotions I was suddenly feeling, trying to calm my crazily beating heart. Who allowed my brain to think in such way of Song Mingi? When did I even start considering him attractive? He was annoying, obnoxiously loud, arrogant and irritating, there was absolutely nothing to like about him or find in him attractive. I had to get a grip of myself right now! Mingi’s footsteps were dull as he followed after me, probably surprised that I had waited for him at the top of the stairs, unknowing of the storm inside my head, matching the raging storm outside. Lightning flashed every two seconds, skies rumbling with thunder, shaking even the ground at times. I hated storms, but suddenly it wasn’t as unbearable as before. When Mingi stood next to me, I lead us towards my room and pushed the door open, leaving it like that as Mingi walked in once I stepped aside for him, allowing him inside my safe space.

I have never been consciously proud or embarrassed of what my room looked like, the thought of what others thought of it absent up until right now. As Mingi walked further inside, head turning each and every way, taking everything in, suddenly I realized I was scared of what he would think. My walls were painted a light grey, on purpose, and there was little to no space left bare except for the wall on which the window was. My bed was pushed up against the wall to your left just as you walked inside, sketches that I have done throughout the years plastered up and put on display, my very first drawing even making it up on my wall. It was my little personal museum, a way of reminding myself of where I started out and how much I have evolved ever since, and even how much I was still changing as I was experimenting with my styles, learning a new technique in the class of Mr. Yoon. The desk across from my bed was messy, like I have said, it was littered with everything I needed to have at hand. Pencil holders filled to the brim, at least five of them, then there were brushes and little paint tubes littered all over it, notebooks and discarded sketches sitting underneath it, with my laptop hanging just a little dangerously off, not having paid much attention where I have put it this morning. A plain canvas was spread out on the little free space I still had, a project I had planned on starting today, now postponed for tomorrow. The wall above my desk had three modest shelves filled to the brim with books and some vinyl’s I have started collecting not long ago, pots and plants hanging off from the sides. The wall around the shelves was decorated by posters and pictures of my favorite bands, a few of my favorite paintings mixing in with them. The little stand next to my desk had my vinyl player, plants underneath it and around it, little ones. And then in the corner there was an old guitar that once had belonged to my mother, who has had a phase back in highschool and dreams of becoming a band member, famous and rich. She didn’t have the heart to gift the guitar to anyone, so she’s always kept it and passed it on to me once I was old enough. I never had an affinity for playing any instruments, but I do enjoy good music. A mix of old and new artists making it in that mix, actually—perhaps Noir Zenith slowly becoming one of them too, but Mingi didn’t have to know that. My closet was to the right just as you walked in, and it was of dark and sturdy wood, expanding from the ceiling to the floor. I had a little mirror right on its right side, the wall above and behind it, going right behind the door even, littered with my favorite painter’s paintings. Of course, they were only prints made at the local copy shop, but that didn’t matter. Fairy lights hung above my bed and from the lamp on the ceiling. The two nightstands on either side of my bed were more organized than one would expect from me, little makeup buckets placed on the one closest to the window, charger cable and some headphones sitting on the dark wood. The one nearest to the door had pictures of myself and my mom, and of Seulgi and I on display with a little clock, its drawer so filled with notebooks that I couldn’t quite close it. Thankfully the drawers of my desk weren’t so filled, I had just rearranged them last week, one evening when I was too restless to sleep.

Mingi was quiet as his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as he took everything in, eyes falling onto my bed. I followed his sight and was mortified to find my biggest sketchbook open and displaying a quite realistic sketch of Mingi performing on stage. It was from the night I had a breakdown and Mingi found me in that diner. Seulgi had sent me some pictures she had taken of Wooyoung and accidentally slipped in one with Mingi too, and because the image just wouldn’t leave my mind, I knew I had no choice but to draw it. I dived for the sketchbook as if my life depended on it, all of it happening so fast I hoped Mingi didn’t actually catch what the drawing—or better said, who—the drawing was of. I shut it closed and pushed it off the bed, the light thud loud in the silent room. When I turned to look at Mingi, ready to face his smug face and taunting words, I was surprised to find his attention on something completely different. Of course, I should’ve expected from a man who plays in a band to be enamored by the vintage guitar in my possession. Its body was a light blue and had cherry blossoms painted over it, something my mother admitted to doing so, which lead to an argument with her father back in the days when he had seen the “damage” my mother had done to the pricey guitar.

“Is that a Martin D-19?” Mingi gushed as he walked toward the guitar, mouth hanging open. My eyebrows raised at his knowledge about it upon one glance. To me, it looked like a regular acoustic guitar. But then again, I should’ve expected it from a music major and a guy who has a literal band and plays the bass.

“Yeah, it was my mother’s.” I answered as I set my mug on the nightstand and sat at the edge of my bed, watching the awed expression on Mingi’s face. He had placed his mug by the foot of my desk as he crouched down, admiring the guitar from up-close.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Mingi whispered, fingers carefully tracing its body. Not even at gun point would I have admitted my next thought, which was of just how beautiful Mingi looked in this exact moment. Lightning flashed and the ground shook with the intense thunder, making Mingi tense for a second before he turned back to face me with the prettiest smile I have ever seen on someone.

“Your mother knows how to play it?” He asked, sounding enthusiastic. I was breathless, but after a big gulp, I forced my brain to function.

“Yeah,” I answered with a small smile, “she was a big rock lover back in the days, even wanted to start her own band. But due to her parents negative reactions to it, she unfortunately had to give up on that dream and do something more ‘real’.”

I rolled my eyes at the end of my sentence, not very fond of my grandparents. They weren’t bad people, but they also treated my mother harshly, and even myself, always asking about my future plans and straight up crying when I told them I wanted to become a painter. I saw the way Mingi’s face hardened for a second, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it as he became expressionless quickly after. I was curious what made his mood become sour so quickly, if he perhaps related to what I have said in some way, but I wouldn’t prod. If he wants to tell me, he will sometime. So, instead, as a distraction, I scooched up further on my bed and patted the mattress next to me with a lazy smile, watching Mingi’s eyes slightly widen. He looked a little shy as he grabbed his mug and rose up to his full height, steps almost hesitant as he approached the bed, making me snort. It made Mingi narrow his eyes as I crossed my legs underneath myself as he kneeled on the bed and then settled beside me, long legs extended as he playfully wiggled his feet left and right. I chuckled as I clasped my hands together, letting them rest in my lap as Mingi took a sip of his hot chocolate. The silence was comfortable between us, the harsh rain hitting the windows loudly, wind rocking trees harshly, and the lightning and rumble a constant background noise.

“Last time when we performed at Outlaw, when you didn’t come,” Mingi paused and turned his head to look at me, “you know, when we met at the diner—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I muttered with a grimace and Mingi hummed, licking his lips.

“Right, so, that night,” His voice was quiet, lips pulling into an abashed smile, “the crowd was bigger than usual, at first I blamed it on being a rowdier night, but it turned out those people were there to see us, Noir Zenith, to see me.”

I felt a small smile appear on my own lips, Mingi looking pleased with himself despite the light pink tinge of his cheeks, “And now Hongjoong might help us sign with a record deal, I feel like everything is finally coming together. Like my hard work is finally being rewarded.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling too wide, subconsciously reaching out to hold Mingi’s arm as he looked me in the eyes, “That’s so good, Mingi! You deserve all the praise and attention your band gets, you’re really good.”

“You really think so?” Mingi sounded small, eyes wide in wonder as he flushed more. I knew I have said some things that weren’t the nicest, and now it made me realize that Mingi never deserved hearing those things from me. Yeah, I didn’t like the guy much at the beginning—not that now I like him more—but I still shouldn’t have shit on his music, on something he pours his whole soul and heart into.

“I really do, Mingi.” I slightly squeezed his arm, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in my voice as a wide and bright smile spread onto Mingi’s plush lips, so contagious that I found myself with a matching smile on my own lips. I chuckled, for some reason not wanting to release his arm just yet, the knitted sweater soft and warm under my touch.

“Lovely seeing you slowly turn into my number one fan, doll.” Of course, trust Mingi to ruin the moment. My eyes narrowed as I sighed loudly, slowly shaking my head. Mingi chuckled before taking a large gulp of his not so hot anymore chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Now, don’t get cocky.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand off his arm, watching as his eyes lingered where I have touched him, “I can recognize good work without becoming your fan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Mingi mused playfully and I scoffed, bumping my shoulder into his before I went to retrieve my laptop from my desk, “Seonghwa and Wooyoung want us to try out new genres.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I settled back in my previous spot, knee brushing against Mingi’s thigh, “Like what?”

“Well, nothing specific, just something little softer.” Mingi pursed his lips, fiddling with the mug in his hands, “Maybe something more indie rock.”

“I love indie rock,” I muttered absentmindedly as I powered on my laptop, “and why are you reluctant?”

Mingi seemed surprised that I had caught on, but it was quite obvious in his tone that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, “Because my voice is rough and raw, unlike Seonghwa’s who’s smooth and almost angelic, and Wooyoung’s who’s can reach pitches I can only dream of and has a roughness that is absolutely soft at the same time, alluring.”

“Your voice is deep and powerful, it conveys every single emotion you’re feeling when you sing, Mingi. Your raspy tone alone tells a story, even without speaking the same language I would understand what you’re singing about. But just because it’s rougher and more powerful compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and enchanting, Mingi.” Occupied with typing in the password to my laptop, I failed to notice the way Mingi’s breaths became shallow, the way his eyes bore into the side of my skull, “I think your voice is unique and desirable, you should be proud of it and not look down on yourself because of it. Many wish to have what you have, so really, don’t think any less of yourself because you think Seonghwa and Wooyoung are somehow better and more alluring. It’s not true, each one of you has their charm and well…I think you’re the most charming out of the three of you.”

I didn’t expect the expression on Mingi’s face when I turned my head to look at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were glazed over as his sharp eyes watched me intently, his breaths loud as his cheeks were red. My eyebrows furrowed, and for a second I worried I have made him angry, but the longer I looked, I realized the look in his eyes had nothing to do with anger. I gulped and averted my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart race again, biting my lower lip and trying to ignore the overbearing proximity between us. It was only our knee and thigh touching, yet it felt like Mingi was all over me, his scent still strong despite having changed out of his clothes and getting soaked by the rain. He always had a sharp scent surround him; it reminded me of pine trees.

“Thank you.” At last, Mingi found his voice and it was lower than before, goosebumps covered my skin as the low baritone of it traveled through my body. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not trusting my voice as I went on the internet to search for some movies to watch and pass the time while we wait for the storm to pass. If it passes, “Do you think rapping would fit my tone?”

It was an unexpected question, but as I mulled over it, I concluded that Mingi had the perfect timbre to both sing and rap, “Yeah, I think it would.”

I dared to take a peek at Mingi from the corner of my eyes, and was relieved to find the intensity gone from his face, instead, a soft smile grazed his lips as he finished his hot chocolate. He leaned back and placed his empty mug next to mine on the nightstand and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I found some old videos of me at school plays, let’s see what my music genius bestie thinks of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless peered over Mingi’s shoulder in curiosity, “Don’t make fun of me, I’m merely stating something that someone with not musically trained ears hear. You should be more thankful.”

“I’m more than thankful, Y/N.” Mingi suddenly turned his head, our faces too close for comfort, so I quickly leaned back as he placed his arm on my thigh and pressed play on a video he pulled up from his gallery.

『Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?』

The movie of my choice was simple, The Quiet Ones. Nothing better than something a little spooky while there’s a wild storm raging outside, but to my utter surprise, Mingi looked terrified after only ten minutes of watching it. We were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, pillows behind our backs, and laptop placed between our lower bodies as our legs were stretched out. And despite the laptop being between us, Mingi’s shoulder pressed against mine not even five minutes after settling in our current spots. Trying to watch the horror movie, which was one of my favorite movie’s, turned out to be a fail, and I had no choice but to give in to Mingi as he only stopped whining when he got what he wanted. And that was watching a rom-com from the nineties, called 10 Things I Hate About You. I’ve seen it numerous times already, but it never gets old. There is something about the way the actors play their parts, and the plot too, that have me coming back to it with the same enthusiasm I had for it when watching it for the first time. At first, I thought Mingi hadn’t seen it and had only went along with my suggestion because he didn’t know what else to watch, but when he started quoting Patrick’s lines as if he were the character himself, I narrowed my eyes at him and poked his arm. After some painful jabs, he admitted that it was his favorite movie and he regularly rewatched it, especially if he was in a bad mood. That was a piece of information I wasn’t expecting from someone like Mingi. He looked like a guy who enjoyed tough and brutal movies, with the occasional romance movies if a pretty girl begged him to watch it together. Turns out, Mingi’s favorite genre is romance, and he hates horror, and depends on the type of thriller whether he likes it or not.

We found ourselves joking and laughing throughout the movie, making our own commentary about it after our first disagreement. Which was about whether Patrick accepting the money to charm Kat was right or wrong. Of course, it was very wrong to play with someone’s feelings and get paid for it too, but Mingi argued that if he never accepted it, then him and Kat would’ve never gotten together. And for that, I threw in the hypothetical scenario of him accepting money from Wooyoung so that he could take me out on a date and make me fall in love with him if that meant Wooyoung could have Seulgi date him. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he declined such scenario, exactly proving my point why this was so wrong then, but he remained believing that for Kat and Patrick it totally worked out. And then he had the audacity to compare my stubbornness to Kat’s, making me call him just as stupid as Patrick was.

Time flew by as our laughter got louder, completely missing the way the rain had started to quiet down as we were immersed in the movie we were watching. It felt like a bubble was wrapped around us, isolating us from the cold world, and letting us enjoy ourselves without being so cautious of what we were saying. It felt nice. I couldn’t remember a time when I was able to let loose with someone other than Seulgi. It was a nice feeling, it made me excited in some way, completely making me forget that I was doing this with Mingi. He made it too easy to forget my worries and made me feel really comfortable all of a sudden, never stepping out of line—if we ignore his stupid flirting—and always keeping everything lighthearted. It was a nice change for once.

I groaned as I let my head fall back, lips pursed as my ass had gone numb from sitting so much in one place. Mingi snickered as Kat reversed into Joey’s car, clearly amused by the snarky remarks exchanged between the two characters. He was clearly into the witty exchanges, especially between Patrick and Kat, even having said that it makes Kat attractive how quickly and well she can shut Patrick down. I had told him that she wouldn’t have to do that if Patrick wasn’t so stupid most of the time, making Mingi roll his eyes at me, and say that I simply didn’t appreciate some good banter. Which wasn’t even true, I liked bantering if it had a smart purpose, not just to rile each other up, what was the point of that?

I licked my lips as my head lulled to the right, eyes falling on Mingi’s profile as he had his legs up, leaning forward as he hugged them around his knees with one arm. He was smiling and chuckling, pretty red lips pulled to the side, showing off his white teeth. His brows were dark, and his browbone being more prominent really sharpened his face in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Mingi’s face was very beautiful, and as an artist, I couldn’t help but admire it, and recognize it. So many pretty portraits of his face could be made, pity he doesn’t model. My lips pulled into a tiny smile at the thought of him modelling for me when we had to sketch human forms for our next class. I’m sure my professor would appreciate my drawings even more. Mingi’s glasses were discarded, and my eyes paused on his long nose, biting my lower lip just as Mingi chuckled again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He sniffed before rubbing two fingers against his plump lips, wetting them not even a second later. I gulped as I suddenly wondered what they would taste like. It was such a startling thought that I jumped, but Mingi suddenly looking at me certainly scared me more. I gulped, instantly blushing as a friendly smile painted Mingi’s lips as he leaned back, placing his head on the pillow, and letting it roll to the left. Our gazes connected, and I wasn’t surprised to find my heart beating so quickly once again, my lips pulling into a straight line as I struggled to keep my breathing even. Mingi’s easy smile didn’t disappear as his eyes racked over my face, it only became wider.

There was a whole galaxy behind those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, they sparkled with life and an excitement I haven’t seen in anyone before. I wished that I could recreate that in my drawings, but I wasn’t good enough to give simple eyes such deep emotions yet. And I really wished I was able to do so, because the longer I stared into Mingi’s eyes, the more lost I got in them, thoughts and worries disappearing into nothingness. Mingi’s hand twitched for a second and I tensed when I felt a finger gently poking my cold hand. I gulped, but I wasn’t able to look away as ever so softly more fingers brushed against my skin like feather, Mingi’s bottom lip between his teeth. His actions were slow and cautious, probably afraid that I would pull away, but I was too captured by his alluring gaze to even think to move away from him. Slowly, his longer fingers intertwined with mine and his rings cut into my skin when I squeezed his hand, uncaring that it hurt a bit. I knew my cheeks were now surely very red, but I couldn’t actually be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when Mingi’s cheeks were dusted pink as well. His high cheekbones were flushed the pretties color they could have been, and I smiled as Mingi blinked, looking abashed. Somehow no words had to be exchanged between us, everything felt comfortable, scarily familiar. I haven’t felt like this…since my ex. And not even with him have I felt so safe and understood, it always seemed like there was some invisible barrier between us, and I never understood why. With Mingi, if I allowed myself to feel and be unafraid, no barrier lay between the two of us.

I gulped, eyes suddenly falling on Mingi’s lips as his tongue poked out just slightly to wet them, his plump lips red and full. I’ve never seen a person have such full lips, and it made me wonder if they were as soft as one would imagine them be. Aware that my eyes were glued to Mingi’s lips, I looked back up in his eyes, trying to ignore how insanely attractive his mole right underneath it made him look. There was something about Mingi’s bareface that was so charming and beautiful that it almost made me feel jealous of it. Mingi sniffed quietly, and his bottom lip was between his teeth again as his eyes fell to my lips, my rapid heartbeat halting for a second. Could he be having similar thoughts to mine? I wouldn’t know, but when Mingi’s eyes found mine again, they were just slightly more intense and sharper. Like he was determined and nothing could stop him. I gulped loudly as he moved his head, just lightly, but it was closer than before. My heart was beating like crazy, but almost as if I was under a spell, I found myself shifting my head just a little bit closer. Mingi’s eyes no longer were on mine, and as my lips parted when I licked them, I felt Mingi’s hand squeeze mine just a little bit more. I gulped as I proceeded to lean even closer, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s lips now too, just wondering and wondering infinitely if they were warm, soft, wet, and what they would taste like. I didn’t startle nor flinch when Mingi angled his body so that he could lean dangerously close, the bridge of his nose brushing against mine. His hot breath mingled with mine as our lips were parted, a pull so magnetic I couldn’t untangle myself from it even if I tried to. My eyes threatened to flutter closed as I pressed my nose against his, the side of our lips rubbing just a little together as I couldn’t breathe regularly anymore. Mingi’s lips pressed ever so slightly against the corner of mine, feather like, and it suddenly wasn’t enough. The distance, it was too big—even if it didn’t even exist between us anymore—and I squeezed his hand as I angled my head to finally press our lips together, Mingi’s breaths audible due to our proximity.

But suddenly, a door was slammed shut loudly, “Sweetheart, I made it home finally! I saw a car parked in front of our house, all’s good?!”

The curious and shrill voice of my mother sent Mingi and I flying away from each other, both of our eyes wide as I was panting, my whole body burning. I couldn’t look at Mingi as I scrambled to press pause on the movie and Mingi was off the bed in a flash, sprinting towards my window. I could still feel his hot puffs against my face, and I gulped as I forced myself to forget everything I felt just seconds ago.

“The rain stopped,” Mingi’s voice was hoarse, so gravely that I had to clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I would regret, “I will be going.”

“I’ll go downstairs, let my mom know you’re here.” My voice wasn’t better off, I sounded breathless. I felt lightheaded as I got off the bed, standing and pausing for a second.

“Right, I’ll change back into my clothes and then—”

“No,” I didn’t mean to sound desperate as Mingi’s eyes fell on me, I had to look away in embarrassment, “keep them, they are of no use to me.”

“Right.” Mingi cleared his throat and I quickly walked past him, thankful that he stepped aside, and hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I took a deep breath to compose myself as I heard my mother placing down plastic bags in the kitchen. I needed to behave like everything was fine, when nothing was fine anymore.

“Hi!” My greeting was high pitched and way too cheery, my mother’s eyes narrowed when she saw me standing in the doorway, “Glad you made it home, the storm was awful.”

“It really was.” My mom grimaced as she continued unpacking the groceries, “You got home alright?”

“Yeah, uhm, actually,” I gulped and bit my lower lip as I heard Mingi coming down the stairs, “a friend from university drove me home as it was already raining, and he, uhm, stayed over. Because the rain was so bad he wouldn’t have been able to drive home. You know, safety measures and all.”

My mother paused and looked up at me with both of her eyebrows raised, “He?”

And on cue, Mingi appeared next to me, glasses pushed up on his nose adequately for once and hair not as messy as before, “Hello, my name is Song Mingi.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” My mother’s eyes were glinting, looking way too happy for someone who was just introducing themselves. I was afraid of what would come, so, I grabbed Mingi’s arm and guided him towards the coat hanger.

“Mingi’s leaving, mom.” I said as I let go of his arm, averting my eyes as he wore his shoes and pulled on his jacket.

“Already?” My mom asked with a pout, coming to stand in the doorway, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner, dear?”

Mingi froze, eyes first finding mine before he looked at my mother with a polite smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs—”

“Oh, don’t be all formal with me, I hate that shit.” My mother chuckled and winked at him, “Call me Boyoung.”

Mingi gulped, seemingly taken aback by my mother’s behavior. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, knowing how surprising the contrast between my mother’s personality and mine was. Sadly, I haven’t taken after her when it comes to my attitude, but that’s fine.

“Well, Boyoung, thank you for your offer, but my friends and I actually agreed on dining out tonight.” Mingi’s excuse sounded real, so I knew he wasn’t lying. I gulped when my mother threw me a very slick glare, almost saying that this was my fault. I rolled my eyes, offended by her assumption.

“That’s a pity, dear,” My mother pouted, but soon a bright smile appeared on her lips, “But you are invited for whenever you feel like having dinner with us, right, my starlight?”

I tried not to glare at my mother for the outrageous nickname, especially when I saw Mingi’s lips twitch in amusement. I told her not to call me that in front of others so many times, “Right, mom.”

My mother chuckled, all too aware of my dislike for the nickname, before her eyes landed on Mingi again. There was a brief pause, one too awkward for my liking, and then Mingi was clearing his throat and opening the front door.

“Uh,” He made eye contact with me briefly, “talk to you later.”

“Wait,” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed as Mingi stepped outside, trying to adjust the strap of his backpack, “Aren’t those Yun—”

“Talk to you later!” I loudly said, making sure to send my mother a very alarmed look as Mingi froze for a second before he hummed quietly and took off towards his car.

The air was chilly and humid due to the harsh rain, and as I closed the front door, I knew I had a lot of questions to answer when my eyes fell on my mother’s amused face.

❱❱ Next chapter

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lol, this is the surprise I mentioned...I saw this post and it would just not leave my mind, besides, I think it's very fitting for our plot, no?

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