#that works that well i realize but like this is the go ahead my dudes to hit me up anytime for anything!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

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

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

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands? 

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #geto suguru #gojo satoru angst #nanami kento #choso kamo #series #yaga masamichi #alternate universe #college #college au #soccer #sports au #fraternity #sorority #tw drinking #partying #anime #romance #smut #fluff #angst #jjk smut #long fic #jjk series #ongoing series

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

part 2

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

each chapter will have their own warnings please read them! eventual smut

cw: mentions of child abuse and implication of attempted sexual assault (does not go into detail for either), panic attack

fluff and angst

light rocking against your shoulder and a distant call of your name pulls you from your deep slumber making you groan, not conscious enough to take in where you are. “hey sleepyhead, wake up.” ellie’s raspy whisper has you cracking one eye open. you’re too tired to even speak or think coherently, making you hum in question.

ellie chuckles and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “sorry to wake you up so early.. I gotta be at the construction site in an hour.” you blink away your remnants of sleep and realize ellie has damp hair, is fully dressed for the day and the sun isn’t even up yet. “it’s okay. sorry I fell asleep here I didn’t even realize.” she smiles softly, “no worries, I don’t mind. you looked pretty comfy..I can drive you home on my way to work.”

the short drive to your house shares a peaceful, comfortable silence between you and ellie. the sky painting a breathtaking winter sunrise of pinks and purple. ellie pulls up to your house way too quickly for your liking, the small disappointment of having to part ways felt in your chest.

“thanks for the ride and letting me crash at your place.. I had fun last night.”

“me too,” she smiles and you feel that warmth settle deep in your stomach again. it’s a rarity to see her full smile “it’s no problem, really.. are you busy tonight?”

“no, I don’t think I have anything going on.” you know you don’t actually have anything going on. you bite the inside of your cheek to try to suppress a smile, but ellie looks between your eyes and down at your mouth and smirks at you. caught.

“well, if you’re not busy later you wanna hang out? I get off at 3, we can go to a cafe or something.” she clears her throat and you can see how physically painful this is for her. she forces herself to keep eye contact though.

you giggle and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, unspoken words and body language received between the both of you. “yeah, I’m down. just text me when you get off.”

“alright cool I can pick you up. see you later, ___.”

me: DINA wake the fuck up!!!!!

dina🤍: bitch its literally 7am why tf are u disturbing me

me: wow. anyway! last night I was walking to ur house and some creepy dude pulls up next to me asking me for directions and shit acting super sketchy. ellie pulls up out of nowhere and goes all psycho ellie mode and pulls out a fucking switchblade. I was like 😦 but it was also so hot. he skids off and she gets pics of his plates and we go back to her place for joel to deal with it. he thinks the cops can keep an eye out for that car and see if that guy has anything to do with the assaults happening. it was lowkey really scary but I’m okay. we ended up smoking and talking for hours and it was literally perfect and then we ended up falling asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night laying ON HER CHEST with her arm around me. we’re hanging out again tonight

dina🤍: wtf that’s so fucking scary! im glad ur okay:( but ommg im so excited for u angel. its ab damn time some moves are made and we can go on double dates tg hehe

me: ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves here we’ll see what happens. that’s all I wanted to tell u. ur allowed to go back to sleep now:)

dina🤍: wow how gracious of u. lmk how everything goes though <33

clothes are strewn all over your bed and floor, while you frantically try to find a cute outfit to wear. it’s fine, it’s just ellie. she’s seen you a million times since you were both 14. you finally settle on a pair of jeans and a black sweater, with your chelsea doc martens. good enough.

ellie🌿🗡️: Hey, I’m outside whenever you’re ready.

me: be right there!

okay, just breathe. everything’s fine!

as you hop into the passenger seat, ellie looks you up and down. “you look good.” you give her a shy smile and observe her; hair tied half up, in a dark green flannel with an oversized black denim jacket, black jeans with her usual pair of converse, multiple rings on her long fingers, and the scent of her woodsy cologne. “thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she smiles and shakes her head, pulling out of your driveway.

“yeah, he almost dropped a whole fucking plank of wood on my head today!”

you start laughing, walking out of the coffee shop together. “maybe the hit would’ve done you good, ellie. you are very hard headed.” ellie’s jaw drops “wow, someone’s feisty today, huh?” you smile and roll your eyes, going to shove her and she catches your wrist, pulling you close to her. your breath hitches and you look down at her lips. something behind you catches ellie’s attention, her smile dropping instantly and face turning ghostly pale.

“ellie? what’s wrong?” she grabs your hand and walks you quickly to the car, opening your door to make sure you get in first before frantically hopping into her seat and speeding out of the parking lot.

“hey, what’s going on?” she shakes her head and doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, eyebrows scrunched together.

the speed of her driving and her concerning behavior is stressing you the fuck out. she pulls up to her house and lets you both in before she runs up the stairs to the bathroom, whipping the door shut with a loud slam.

you slowly walk up the stairs, not knowing whether or not to give her privacy. you suddenly hear her crying and hyperventilating. “ellie, I’m coming in.”

ellie is seated on the floor next to the tub with her head between her legs, forearms laid on her knees. “hey, hey I’m here. can I touch you?” she nods and you gently take her hand, softly rubbing the back of her palm while you place her other hand against your chest. “try to follow my breathing, okay?” you take slow, deep breaths for her to follow until she calms down.

“I’m sorry.” she avoids looking at you. “no, I’m here for you, okay? you don’t have to hide from me.” she wipes the rest of her tears from her eyes and nods. you move to sit next to her and gently rub her back, still holding her hand.

“do you wanna talk about it?” she clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I uh… saw one of my old foster parents. he was pretty fucked up,” she lets out a dry laugh. “thought I was over it but I didn’t expect to see him.”

“what did he do?” she looks at you in contemplation before looking away with a cold, steely gaze. she sniffs and nods, “he… used to beat the shit out of me all the time for no reason.” she looks down at her scarred tattoo and rubs the skin. “this burn… he tried to-“ she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. “anyway, I managed to get away before he did anything, but I ended up burning my arm on the stove in the midst of it all. tried to press charges but that didn’t work, big shocker,” she scoffs. “I ran away and refused to go back so they placed me with joel and he eventually adopted me.”

she looks back up at you, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. you don’t realize you’re crying until she wipes away a tear from your cheek. “hey, don’t cry it was a long time ago I was just… not prepared for all of that.”

“sorry, I just hate that you had to go through all of that, especially at such a young age.” she lets out a deep breath and nods. “sorry our date got ruined” she gives you a sad smile.

“it wasn’t,” you squeeze her hand “I had a good time and I’m just glad I was able to be here with you.” you look up in thought, “do you have brownie mix?” she looks at you in confusion and lets out a small laugh “uh, I dunno, why?” “whenever I’m sad or going through something, I like to bake because it gives me something to do to take my mind off of everything and brownies are fucking good.” you nod with conviction. ellie laughs, “you are so fucking cute. c’mon let’s go see if I have some brownie mix.”

as you mix the chocolatey batter, and hum to the song playing on the speaker, ellie leans against the counter and watches you. she loves the domesticity and warmth you surround her with, and you were right, doing all of this is making her feel better.

“are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or are you gonna help?” “nah I think I’m good right here” she smirks at you. you nod slowly and look at her with mischief, holding up the spoon. her eyes widen and she points her finger at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

you chase ellie around the kitchen island, out of breath from laughing and she ends up slipping on her sock, grabbing onto the counter for balance. as you run up to her and try to smear the batter on her face, she grabs your arm. you struggle against her, making you trip over her leg and she catches you, wrapping her arms around your waist. both of your laughters fade into small smiles as both of your eyes trails to each other’s lips. ellie’s face becomes serious as she leans in, lips ghosting yours. the sound of the front door opening has you both abruptly backing away from each other. fucking joel.

“hey kiddo, what are y’all up to?” ellie’s face is beet red and she clears her throat, “just making some brownies. why are you home?” ellie’s voice holds a bit of an edge to it.

“well, damn, I’ll get outta your hair in a minute, just stoppin’ by, forgot to pack my dinner.” she hums in annoyance. your eyes widen at the tension ellie is radiating.

“joel! my parents wanted me to give this to you as a thanks for the free self defense lesson, and for helping me out yesterday.” you open up your bag and take out a bottle of whiskey. ellie’s brows furrow, oops you forgot to tell her.

joel holds the bottle at a downward angle “would’ya look at that.. I’ll be sure to send my thanks to them.” he walks to the fridge and grabs out a container. “alright I’m headin’ out,” he looks at ellie “do me a favor, don’t burn the house down.” she groans and rolls her eyes.

“mm, these brownies are fucking good. you were right after all.” you scoff and smack her arm, “of course I was right. don’t ever doubt me again.” ellie rolls her eyes, “yes ma’am,” she quips sarcastically. “now, pay attention, this is my favorite part of the movie,” you say with feigned sternness. she smiles and nods, finishing off her brownie and leans back into her pillows.

you rest your head on her shoulder and place your hand on her stomach, tracing small patterns. you look up at her and whisper, “ellie?”

“hm?”

“do you really feel okay now?”

she turns her head to the side to look at you, face only inches away, and nods slowly. you feel her breath ghosting your lips and your heart starts racing, chest rising up and down quickly. ellie parts her mouth and licks her lips, leaning in, kissing you softly. she pulls away to look at you, before sitting up and grabbing your face, deepening the kiss.

HA sorry to edge u all. things are gonna get spicy as fuck in the next chapter. interactions are much appreciated 💗

taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels

#emmysfics #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fanfic #tlou ellie #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader

[willowsnook]

Heeeey ❤️ Would you do an imagine where Y/N is Buckys girlfriend and also part of the team but one time it happens she get accidentally shot by John Walker and nearly dies and Bucky gets furious about that, so Sam has to keep him back from hurting him as well. Then they stay by your side and take care of you. Maybe Sam offers you both to stay in Louisiana with him and Sarah for your recovery and it's just all fluffy ? Hope this is fine 🥰

Bucky Barnes x gf!reader

a/n: i haven't watched falcon winter soldier in so long so this is going to be an original scene lol

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

You hummed along to a song that was stuck in your head as you scrolled through twitter while on the jet. Your bf Bucky was locked in for the mission and staring straight ahead. He always tried to disassociate for these missions mostly so he didn't get distracted being overprotective of you even though you could handle yourself just fine.

Sam sat next to you fiddling with his hands before going over the objective once again.

"Okay so we think that Hydra has a secret office here with classified files on the US government," he said for the millionth time. "Y/n, you sweep the perimeter, I'll break inside with Bucky covering me."

"Yes sir," you said saluting him. He rolled his eyes as Bucky gave you a warning look. He was always annoyed at you for not taking this seriously. But you found that being confident was more efficient for your work style and caused fewer mistakes. When you lost Natasha a year ago the world ended. You wanted out of the game but your healing process ended up including a certain winter soldier. He had given you the spark of life back so your new viewpoint was that life was too short to not be happy.

The jet landed in a field near the target zone and the three of you stalked your way closer to the building. Sam gave me the hand signal I was waiting for and I slipped off from the boys to make sure no one was hiding in the perimeter. As I continued on I could hear Bucky and Sam in my ear piece, it sounded like the building was clear and they were inside now.

I came to a halt when I saw a familiar red, white, and blue number peering out of a window. Fucking John Walker. This dude was a pain in the ass. He hadn't spotted me yet so I scaled the side of the building before slipping into the same room as him. He was still looking out the window as I cleared my throat. He whirled around pulling his gun.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked irritably. He lowered his weapon when he realized it was me.

"Probably the same thing as you sweetheart," he said with his stupid charming smile. I could hear Bucky growl through my earpiece at his term of endearment.

"Still playing make-believe superhero?" I taunted and his smile dropped. He started to say something else but we heard a crashing noise come from above. Both of us had our weapons drawn immediately. I held my finger to my lips before creeping out the door of the room. There was nothing there. I turned around to come back in and heard another big crash and then a gunshot. I looked down to my stomach to see blood starting to pool out and back up at John whose face paled.

"Shit shit shit, i'm sorry I panicked," he said coming towards me. I sunk back against a wall and to the floor breathing heavy.

"Y/n! Are you hurt? Where are you? We are coming" Bucky said through the earpiece.

John put his hands on your wound holding down pressure but after a minute he was ripped off of you and flying into the opposite wall. Through hazy eyes you could see Bucky pounding into him while Sam was trying to hold you back. The last thing you saw was Bucky's bloody face looking over at you before everything went black.

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

Your eyes fluttered open and you felt a warm summer breeze brush against your skin. You were in an unfamiliar bedroom with windows drawn open overlooking a grassy field leading up to water. You tried to sit up but your lower abdomen jolted with pain and you took a deep breath. You were wearing sweatpants with a big tshirt that you knew to be your boyfriend's. Speaking of him, your eyes found him sprawled out on a couch at the end of the room.

"Bucky," you whispered and he sprang up. He looked like shit. He had bags under his eyes and clearly hadn't brushed his hair in days. "You look like shit." He laughed weakly as he slowly walked towards you. You could see he was trying to keep it together as he got closer to you.

"Where are we?" You asked him. He sat down on the bed next to you.

"Louisiana doll, at Sam's sister's place," he replied, He brought his hand up to your cheek stroking it lightly like you would break. You reached up and took his hand in yours.

"I'm okay," you told him and he let out a shaky breath.

"You almost died," he choked out and you pulled his head into your chest. He breathed deeply and you ran your fingers through his hair.

"But I didn't," you pointed out and he grumbled. You noticed his hand that was wrapped around you was bruised and you remembered back him and John.

"Did you kill him?" You asked quietly. Bucky rose his head to look at you.

"I wanted to, but no," he said. You patted the spot next to you and he lay there not letting you go. "I will kill him the next time I see him." You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." Bucky started to argue but you held your finger to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too, doll."

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky imagine

[mystinkylefttoe26]

Tutor Session-König

cw: kinda sub!könig, virgin!könig, expierienced!reader, handjob, blowjob, König sees boobs for the first time 🥹

Summary: after a bad test result König offers to tutor you let’s just say it goes differently then expected… 

“Fuckkk” you groan looking at your German exam “another D my parents are going to fucking kill me “

While your friends are busy trying to comfort you. You feel a little tap on ur shoulder, you quickly turn around only to be met with the schools nerd nervous expression 

“What do you want König” you ask annoyed, clearly not in the mood for some smart comment 

“I can uhm…tutor.. you” he says nervously, looking like it cost him his whole fucking courage to say that. 

Man this dude needs some pussy you think.

“I uhm my native language is German so…” König continues on interrupting your train of thought. 

You think about it for a second before responding “uhm yeah sure that’d be very nice” you smile

König smiles back nervously. “You can come to my house after school today, if that’s ok with you” König says quickly almost tripping over his words. 

“Uhm yeah sure” you respond kind of unsure if you want to go to the house of a guy who look like he came in his pants when you smiled at him 

Well now it’s 5hours later and you’re standing in-front of Königs house. 

It’s a normal house nothing special about. You quickly press the bell, waiting for König to open the door.

The door opens pretty much immediately…like Königs was anxiously waiting for your arrival…

“Hallo, come in” König greets you.

“Come on let’s go upstairs into my room”

You walk up the stairs with him and god the room was exactly the way you imagined it…if not worse..

On the walls were multiple anime posters plastered, Huge gaming set up, a wall with multiple replicas of military weapons and the worst part is you see a flesh light not very well hidden under the bed.

“Here uhm take a seat” König tells you pointing to his desk.

You silently settle down looking at the multiple monster cans plastered on it.

You’ve already studied for about an hour now and you must give König this he is very good at German and teaching it.

The only thing bothering you is the unbearable heat in the room. 

“König is it ok if I take off my hoodie ?” You ask “uh yeah sure go ahead” 

You quickly pull off your hoodie..the only problem is you forgot what you were wearing underneath..a white top..without a bra…

Suddenly König lets out a loud shocked cough “everything ok?” You ask, oblivious to where he’s looking. 

“Y-yes” König says in a shaky voice. ‘Hmm weird’ you think.

You two continue studying, but you could tell König wasn’t as focused as before. 

“König you sure you ok” you ask turning to him. “Y-yeah d-don’t worry bout it” König replies quickly but seemingly still distracted. 

Your eyes subconsciously drift down towards Königs crotch, and there you’re greeted with the sight of a fuckin huge cock straining against the fabric of his sweats. 

“Oh..I know why you’re so distracted” you giggle.

Königs follows your eyes and realizes you’re looking at his very obvious boner, immediately trying to cover it with his hands. 

“No wait ! Don’t cover it, I…I can help you…” you say quickly.

Königs Jaws almost falls out at your words. “H-help..me ?” 

“Yeah” you nod eagerly, already excited of to thought of getting to suck his cock “you know you helped me with my problem I can help you with your ‘problem’”.

“O-ok” König responds shyly.

You immediately walk over to him spread his legs and settle between them on ur knees. 

“Never done anythin’ before” König mumbles out embarrassed.

“Mhmm that’s ok” you say while already palming at his erection “I don’t mind”

“O-ok” 

You make quick work of freeing his member from its confines.

And wow it was even bigger than imagined…

“Woah you have such a nice dick” you coo softly.

“Uhm t-thanks” König replies, clearly not used to getting compliments. 

Your start stroking his length, while König his already twitching in your hands and whining softly.

“C-can you uhm…take off your shirt ?” König asks trough whines and whimpers.

You pretty much rip off ur shirt. Before beginning to eagerly suckle and lick up the beads of pre-cum spilling from the tip.

You start fully taking his length into your mouth while cupping his balls.

“God, you’re really good at this” König moans out.

You start bopping your head up and down wanting him to let out more of those delicious moans.

“I-I’m so close-“ König groans while having his hands planted at the back of your head 

You chuckle internally. It’s been what..a minute and he’s already close.

With your free hand you reach up to your head and press down on Königs hand signaling him to decide your pace.

You continue bopping up and down while swirling your tongue around him.

“I-I’m ughh cuming..” König lets out an high pitched almost female moan.

Before you feel his tip spurting out his hot and almost concerning large load. 

You swallow everything before sticking your tongue out to show König.

“That’s was uhm wow…”

you giggle softly in return.

“Are we like together now ?” 

Königs already planning the wedding <3

Banners from @fairytopea and @benkeibear

#könig cod #könig smut #könig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #nerd!könig #Virgin!könig

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Hypnotized Help: Henry

"You sent for me, Master?" the actor's deeply masculine voice asks, rolling a cart of cleaning supplies into the sitting room.

"I just spilled my drink," I answer tersely, "Clean it up."

"Of course, master," the man quickly replies, swiftly grabbing the mop and bending over to wring out the dusty water.

"Wait?" my friend gasps beside me, "Superman is your janitor?"

"Yeah," I chuckle, "At least, the stud who plays him is."

My buddy is easily impressed. He doesn't realize that celebrities are people too, and they are just as easy to manipulate as anybody. That still doesn't stop him from being absolutely starstruck. This guy was my night janitor and he was still practically drooling over him.

"I ran into Mr. Cavill on his way to an interview," I explain, "You went under easily, didn't you, Henry?"

The guy pauses, casting a nervous glance.

"Oh, yes," he affirms, "You had me under in less than a minute, master."

"That's right," I add, "And you remember what you learned, right?"

"Oh yes, master," he reports, grabbing a towel to soak up the puddle of mop water, "I don't want to be idolized by fans all the time. I want a man like you to give me some humility."

"You feeling humbled yet?"

"Definitely," the actor sighs in exasperation, "Master, I've never done such menial work, and I've definitely never worked night shifts."

"Wait, so what all does he make you do?" my friend asks with a look of pity.

"Well, sir, I report here by nine to get started," Henry casts a nervous glance at me, "The master of the house insists on timeliness, so I've made a few excuses to get out of my old commitments. I, of course, arrive dressed and ready to go before coming in through the maintenance entrance. Once I'm here, I get right to work on the nightly cleaning routine."

The janitor finishes sopping up the remaining puddle from the floor. My friend and I can't help but stare while he works on his hands and knees. I doubt Henry realizes how on display his muscle butt is in that cheap jumpsuit. His body is even easier to study since the fabric sticks to his sweaty skin.

Unfortunately, he quickly rises from the floor.

"Is there any other way I can be of service, master?" he asks, waiting by his supplies cart.

"Wait, so you clean this place every night?" my friend jumps in, "That's a lot of work!"

"He likes it," I retort, "and I'm not letting him scrub the floors during the day. And Henry, there is something else. Go ahead and polish my guest's shoes while you're here."

"Yes, master," he responds, immediately fetching a rag and polish before dropping back to the ground.

My buddy flinches as the actor approaches, but he ultimately allows Henry to hold his foot up with a broad hand. The old sneakers have probably never been cleaned, but my janitor is already determined to wipe off all the years of dirt and grime.

"You know, I have a Superman costume I sometimes put him in," I smile nonchalantly.

My friend's eyes open wide.

"Dude," he says slowly, "I need to see the real Superman scrubbing some toilets."

I chuckle at his sudden enthusiasm. My friend is finally starting to loosen up around all my hypnotized celebrities.

While still polishing the shoe, Henry Cavill looks up to meet my friend's longing gaze, "Would you like me to go change, sir?"

"Don't forget the cape," I answer after a long pause of awestruck silence.

"Of course," he rises to his feet, obediently stepping out, "I'll be right back, master."

Me and my guest sip our drinks by the fire, silently anticipating Henry's return. I can tell my friend's cheesiest fantasies are all coming true. Soon, Superman will march back in, and ask to be of service. I'm going to leave it up to my guest to boss the Man of Steel around...

#hypnotized help #mind control #hypno story #servant

[buniyaad]

WELLS: Eventually, Impulse gave way to Kid Flash and Kid Flash, in turn, morphed into an adult Flash. Do you think those changes necessarily served Bart Allen well? WAID: Nah. Listen, Geoff Johns and I made our peace about this. I love Geoff. Geoff's one of my best friends, and Geoff is an incredibly talented writer and is the only writer alive who loves these characters as much as I do. And I don't blame him for paving over the Impulse identity. The shoehorning of Impulse into Kid Flash was, as I understand it, not his idea. It was a wrongheaded edict passed down by an editor that never got the character and has made it his mission to purge DC of anything even remotely fun and lighthearted. But even as Kid Flash, he was still largely recognizable as Bart. And then he became the Flash, and a more boneheaded move you couldn't have made with that character. Geoff and I fought against it, we fought like you wouldn't believe. Steve Wacker, who was slated to be the original editor, Geoff, me...we all fought the good fight, knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt that squeezing Bart into that costume would go against absolutely everything about that character. And we lost. We lost every step of the way. Ultimately, someone else's ego outweighed my opinion about what Bart would and wouldn't do, but that's how it often goes with corporate-owned heroes and is the price you pay dealing in them. Ask Keith Giffen sometime how many lectures he's had to endure about what Lobo "would and wouldn't do." So, in their infinite wisdom, DC Editorial made Bart The Flash, and that relaunch was one of the greatest critical failures in all of DC publishing history. WELLS: Really? WAID: In terms of sales they had on the first issue and the sales they posted by the fifth or sixth issues, it was just a crashing, crashing disaster. It was one of the most disastrous, embarrassing launches in DC history. And we were all " I'm not trying to sound all "I told you so," because it broke our hearts because we loved that character " but we warned them. We told them, "Don't do that, it won't work." Sure enough, six issues in, they realized they had a mess of a series they couldn't make work, no matter what. At that point, Dan DiDio called me up, a courtesy call, and said, "So we're going to kill Bart. I just thought I should let you know." My honest feeling at that point was like, "Dude, you killed Bart years ago." [mutual laughter] "That's so not Bart in that suit. I don't care. Everything in comics is cyclical. Bart'll be back eventually at some point anyway so, sure, go ahead and put the bullet through his head. I don't care." I figured Bart would be better off dead than misunderstood and mishandled.

Thinking about one of my favorite Mark Waid interviews of all time. Bro really said, my son is better off dead than misunderstood and mishandled 😂😂😂

#i still can't believe he came back but to be fair #no more didio #mark waid #bart allen #dc comics #real talk

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re def boyfriends)

warnings: goddamnit noah cheer up dude (also death/bodies mention)

mirage tones it down with the pet names but then comes in hot at the end with a big one + dad doesn’t seem to approve

“Is the rider part of Arcee?” Noah inquires, watching as the Ducati ahead navigates the curved exit ramp of the Sunrise Highway— Noah is kind of transfixed honestly, awed by the way the early morning light shines off of the pink and white finish of Arcee’s altmode.

“Nah, that’s holomatter,” Mirage reveals offhandedly.

“Holo-what?”

“It’s a projection,” the mech clarifies. “Can be light or solid. We use them to draw less attention to ourselves. Be kinda weird to see a bike drive itself, right?”

Noah nods. Definitely weird. His lips pout to one side, watching Arcee and mulling over the idea of hologram-like projections for a moment before he starts, wide gaze flashing down to Mirage’s radio.

“Wait, can you do that?” he questions pointedly.

“Yep,” Mirage pops the ‘p’ cheerfully, before his radio makes a small, muted buzzing sound. “Well… I used to.”

Noah stills.

“My projector was damaged pretty badly after Peru,” Mirage admits softly, kind of wistfully. “I can project light. I mean, sorta. It doesn’t last very long and it’s really buggy but…”

The mech trails off for a moment.

“I can’t do solid anymore,” he confesses finally, faintly.

Noah sinks into the seat, forced down by the sudden, all-encompassing guilt.

Shit.

“Ratchet tried to fix it but it’s just one of those things, y’know?” Mirage goes on, his pitch rising in volume as if in response to Noah’s physical reaction to his admission. “Bumblebee can’t talk. I can’t use holoforms. No biggie.”

The bot isn’t a very good liar, Noah realizes.

He has zero doubt in his mind that losing a piece of yourself like that has got to be terrible. But he’s not going to acknowledge that out loud though. Not when it’s probably his fault.

Damn it.

The inward confession makes his chest sting.

Noah shakes his head, not wanting to think on it anymore. He’s already cried once. He’s not about to do it again. Mirage is going to start thinking he’s some kind of giant wuss or something.

He sucks in a sharp breath and forces himself to lift and drop a shoulder.

“Who needs hologram—form…things,” he stammers out a bit awkwardly. “When you’re already cool as fuck anyway, dude.”

Mirage chuckles, the sound vibrating through the seat beneath Noah. The leather warms up for a moment and Noah realizes that comfort is exactly what that sensation is supposed to convey.

He’s just not sure it’s working this time around.

The seconds crawl by and neither of them moves to speak again and so they fall into a strange, sort of unsettling silence. Noah, for as much as he tries to not think about it, can only do just that; stew in the guilt.

Because it is his fault.

Mirage had almost died for him.

Mirage had to be rebuilt and repaired from practically the ground up because of him.

Mirage had lost parts of himself because of Noah.

Noah’s a walking, talking hazard around the mech.

He frowns, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he can wrap his arms around his legs and curl into himself— ignoring the way the seatbelt kind of digs into the skin of his neck. In the distance, amidst fog and cloud-cover, he can see Manhattan’s skyscrapers reaching for the heavens.

“Hey, Noah?”

He glances down at the radio— it’s backlight cycling through a few different colors; blue, yellow, green, and red, before it settles on its usual light blue.

“I’d do it all over again in a sparkbeat, y’know,” Mirage claims boldly. “If it meant keeping you safe.”

Noah’s eyes widen so quickly, he half expects his eyeballs to drop right out of his head for a moment. His breath catches in his throat and his chest heaves— his heart stuttering over a couple beats.

Oh, fuck.

Noah’s not one hundred percent sure, but he remembers Mirage once saying, ‘Cross my spark, hope to die,’ and so he assumes it to be the cybertronian version of a heart.

The declaration is… overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way.

But also in a way that Noah feels he is undeserving of.

It compels his own heart to keep pounding away, essentially doing somersaults underneath his ribcage. Which— under the recent revelation that Mirage can actually feel it thumping away— is embarrassing as all shit. But Noah can’t help it.

He’d do it all over again.

Noah doesn’t think Mirage even realizes how much that one sentence means. Or maybe he does. And he actually means it. Noah hopes that’s not true.

He never wants Mirage to do it again.

The radio warbles and Noah watches the backlight flicker again.

“Mirage,” Arcee’s voice comes through, clear and urgent. “We’re needed back at base-ops stat.”

Immediately, Mirage groans— in a long and suffering kind of way that reminds Noah of Kris every time he starts whining about how he still can’t get past Bowser.

“I’m gettin’ my aft chewed out for breems,” Mirage gripes with a sharp huff. “Fraggin’ Ratchet, man. Messin’ with my game. What a hater.”

Noah has no idea what half those words mean but he’s pretty sure he understands the gist of it all.

Which is why he isn’t all that surprised when, instead of driving back into Brooklyn, Arcee leads the way north into Queens and then across the East River into the Bronx.

Noah shifts quietly in his seat.

His ma’s gonna be so mad when he does eventually make his way home. He hasn’t checked in with her for hours, which is unlike him. And Breanna Diaz don’t play when it comes to her kids.

But at the same time, he thinks he can understand the sort of urgency a call from Optimus Prime himself might instill in the autobots.

Both he and Mirage are silent as they make their way into a neighborhood of the Bronx known as City Island— a fitting name. At this point, the sun has risen high up into the sky and the inhabitants of City Island are starting to slowly make their way outside in preparation for another day.

Arcee and Mirage pull into what looks like some kind of junkyard marina at the far end of the island, where old boats have been left to rust in every corner of the property, shadowed by dilapidated warehouses. At the water’s edge, a rickety dock bobs in response to the waves below it.

Noah reaches out and white-knuckles the Porsche’s door handle as Arcee and Mirage roll slowly over the surprisingly sturdy wooden slats of the dock. There’s an antiquated ferry at the end, and Noah does his best to hold in a frightened little yelp when both bots lift off the dock— only half-transforming for a second— so they can step onto the ferry.

Once they’re safely aboard, Arcee’s holoform swings her leg over the Ducati and heads off— Noah assumes to start up the ferry.

“You want out?” Mirage inquires, the driver side door popping open with a muted click.

Noah bites into his bottom lip, thinking for a moment. He thinks he knows exactly where they’re heading.

Hart Island is located just to the east of City Island. It’s a place that’s pretty much synonymous with death, with deserted buildings from different eras lying in an array of ruins all over it— the island having been left abandoned to its’ own destruction since the late seventies.

Honestly, it’s kind of the perfect place for the autobots to hide out.

Noah’s not going to lie and say that it doesn’t freak him out though. Supposedly, there’s thousands of bodies buried in the ground at Hart Island.

So he shakes his head and shimmies away from the open door— not ready to step out quite yet. Mirage quickly closes it with another soft click.

“Okay,” he acknowledges. “I gotchu.”

Noah decides he really needs his friend to stop reminding him of that fact.

He knows.

The ferry sputters to life beneath them and after a moment, it rocks forward— pulling away from the dock lazily.

Noah inhales deeply then blows it out through his nose. And forces himself to think about something else, anything else— aside from the fact that he’s currently on a rusting metal death trap headed towards a possibly haunted island to face alien life forms that probably don’t even like him.

His distraught gaze lands on the Ducati parked off to the Porsche’s right.

“Arcee help you sneak out?” he questions. If a holoform is needed to operate the ferry, it has to be the only explanation. Right?

“Yeah,” Mirage admits, but not like he’s shy about it— more like he’s proud of it. “She’s a real G.”

Noah can’t help the smile the words pull from him.

He’s glad that, despite what he thinks is a clear disdain for him on the part of Optimus, Arcee doesn’t seem to hold any negative opinions when it comes to Noah.

He knows Optimus sees him— them, humans— in a different light now. That the battle in Peru— and both Noah and Elena’s drive to fight for their planet— had changed the giant mech’s opinion of the human race.

But the surly leader of the autobots had only begrudgingly allowed Noah to try and fix Mirage, at first, at the behest of Arcee and Bumblebee. When he’d failed, Optimus had been quick to change his mind, quick to take Mirage away.

Leaving Noah wondering, for months, if he’d ever see his friend again. His best friend, probably.

He’s quickly starting to realize Mirage means that much to him.

“Aw, scrap,” Mirage grumbles suddenly, his altmode shuddering slightly around Noah.

Noah looks up from the steering wheel— from the spot he’d been staring at whilst in his head— to see another dock gradually approaching. Rusting, multi-colored shipping containers stacked at its edge, providing cover for the two autobots standing just beyond them; Optimus Prime and an unfamiliar blue and white autobot with a star of life insignia across his chest plates.

Noah assumes he must be the infamous hater; Ratchet. An immediate thought tickles at the back of Noah’s mind as he recalls his first contact with the autobots in that warehouse months ago.

He frowns.

“How’s Ratchet ‘round humans?” he asks warily, just as the ferry gently bumps into the edge of the dock, their short trip across the water coming to a, thankfully, safe end.

Mirage’s radio drones out a low buzzing sound and Noah takes it for exactly what it is: Ratchet is not a fan of Earth’s native species.

“It’s okay, though!” Mirage advises him cheerily as Noah watches Arcee’s holoform return. “I got your back, bro.”

Noah isn’t all that convinced. Not that he doesn’t trust Mirage or anything.

And it must show on his face because as soon as they’re off the ferry— Mirage gently pushing him out of the Porsche’s cabin, so he can transform into his natural rootmode, Arcee doing the same beside them— he leans down closer to Noah, who is staring up at the clear disapproval on the faces of both Optimus and Ratchet.

“He’s not as mean as he looks, I swear,” Mirage testifies in what Noah thinks is supposed to be a whisper but is clearly heard by the others, including Ratchet who scowls at Mirage. “I won’t let him mess witchu, cariño.”

Noah absolutely freezes.

… what.

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

[zoe-oneesama]

Hi Zoe! I see you're done with Party Crasher. If I'm not wrong, Frozer is up next. What do you think about the episode?

This episode is a prime example of why Season 2 has nearly no rewatch value after you've endured Season 4. It's so hard to watch with hindsight.

So, the biggest funk of this episode was definitely Chat Noir - it was him when the episode came out and it still is now. Literally opening the episode with another romantic gesture when Ladybug confirms this MUST be post "Glaciator" because she very gently and sadly reminds him that he knows she's in love with someone else.

Well, he took the rejection SO WELL in "Glaciator", so why should we expect any different here?

This episode (paired with "Glaciator") is the episode that launched the "Nice Guy(tm) Chat Noir" idea. He says things in this episode that I swear were pulled right from reddit. He decides they should go solo because she turned down his rose... "We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple." Seriously dude? All this time together, our partnership, our relationship, our friendship, it all means nothing because I don't want to be your girlfriend? Because I was honest about having feelings for someone else? THAT'S the kind of person you are? What a great role model.

But then he's over it, like, immediately. I'm so confused as to why this was even here. To make Chat Noir look like a dick? Way to sell your main love interest, show~

So Sadrien sadly takes his sad rose to fencing practice and gets his sad ass handed to him by Kagami, who's like "wtf kicking your ass is boring if you just let me" and he asks her "do you ever feel like you're stuck, replaying the same story over and over again and hoping for it change but nothing ever does?"

And Kagami's response is her infamous "the biggest mistake a fencer can make isn't choosing the wrong technique. It's choosing the wrong target. Change targets" advice.

First of all, her metaphor sucks. Fencing is a 1 vs 1 sport, you can't "change targets". You can switch from aiming for the chest to aiming for the leg, but it's still the same opponent, weirdo.

Second of all, nothing about what Adrien just asked you suggested he was talking about a person or a romantic suitor whatsoever. Your only hint was that he was holding his Reject Rose, but even so, why wouldn't your first thought be that he's talking about his father???

Seriously, this could've been a good lead in for the Adri////gami set up if Kagami had assumed he was talking about Gabriel and responded with empathy. "Yes, sometimes I feel like that with my own mother, but I realized I don't like feeling like I'm waiting for change to happen. I make my own change happen. If you want your story to be different, maybe it has to come from you."

And Adrien, still thinking romantically, is struck. 'Wow' he thinks, 'she understands me in a way that honestly? Not a lot of people would.' And he declares that she's right, he's going to change his story starting now, and hands her the rose, starting their romance story.

But no, sure, a bad fencing metaphor about how he should forget other hoes and look at her, that works too, who needs BUILD UP amiright? I was a fool to think that maybe Kagami would need a REASON to be into the Writer's Pet Adrien when he's OBVIOUSLY already PERFECT.

Not that any of this matters since Adrien all but tells Kagami to her face "I had a great time but I'm sticking to my original pick." and she says she'll wait for him, girl, have some self respect.

But that's getting ahead of ourselves. After the two part ways, we have a scene with him and Plagg about Adrien maybe switching targets, and uh..

Look, I noticed a real problem with the dialogue in this episode - there's a lack of connectivity throughout the episode with the things people say. I know I make jokes about the show having five writers per episode who don't communicate with each other, but here it reeeeeally feels like maybe that's not a joke.

Like here: Plagg suggests that Adrien is going to start pursuing Kagami and Adrien rejects this idea because he's in love with Ladybug ("No, no way. Ladybug's the only one I love), and it probably wouldn't work with Kagami anyway because it's his technique that's wrong and he needs advice on what to do.

This seems to suggest that Adrien isn't going to go after Kagami, and if he did, it would be to test out a technique on her. Like going out with Kagami would be practice. Now that's obviously not verbatim what he said and could justifiably be seen as reaching, but do you see my confusion? Not once does he say anything about being into Kagami or wanting to go after her (though admit-ably he did give her the Reject Rebound Rose).

But then two scenes later when he's asking Marinette for help, he's describing Kagami as if he's in love with her, as if he's really interested in her. Where did THAT come from between scenes?! Writers! COMMUNICATE!

Also he says in the French version that they have classes together, and in English that they study together, and I would just like to see WHEN?!

There's another example when Marinette goes off to the bathroom after Kagami gives more..."advice". Tikki asks why she's sad, and instead of pointing out the very obvious "Oh, I don't know Tikki, my crush asked me for advice on how to get close to another girl, I'm third wheeling his date and am forced to watch them skate around holding hands, she practically claimed him when Phillipe was trying to recruit Adrien for his ice rink by reminding him AND me that Adrien is with HER, aaaaand I fell on my butt in front of him, her, and the guy who I also have caught feelings for but am feeling bad about potentially leading him on because of my lingering feelings for Adrien. And then my crush's date basically told me it's my fault that all these things are happening to me because I 'hesitate'. That might have something to do with why I'm sad."

But instead her answer is she likes Luka but doesn't know if what's between them is that they're just friends, like with Adrien????

Even if that WERE a part of it, that's not the thing that started this or even the thing that set her off. So why is that the thing they made her stuck on??? That's like the fourth thing on the list of Things That's Made Her Upset. Her answer sounds like it comes from a pre-edited script or something.

So yeah, the dialogue is...weird. But that's almost normal for Miraculous Ladybug at this point.

So anyway, Adrien vows to get advice from someone who is Not Plagg and realizes very quickly that every adult in his life is utterly worthless so he scouts out his friends. Except of the 4 couples he zones in on (Marc and Nathaniel, Ivan and Mylene, Alya and Nino, Juleka and Rose) 3/4 of them are together because of Ladybug and an akuma.

"Hey bro, I need some advice, how'd you and Alya get together?"

"Oh, Ladybug locked us in a panther cage during an akuma attack after you tried to set me up with her best friend."

Maybe it's not as crazy that he went to Marinette as I initially thought.

(That said this gave me flashbacks because for some reason all my friends came to me for relationship advice despite being chronically single for most of high school, so, I felt that pain Marinette.)

And just...wow, writers, I know Marinette is your punching bag but this was just cruel. Having her crush, the guy YOU'RE SELLING as her true love go off about how pretty and special and amazing this other girl is right to her face? Is this supposed to be an equivalent heartbreak to what happened in the first scene? Because this doesn't feel equal, this just feels malicious on the writer's end. Ladybug didn't grind into Chat Noir's face how AWESOME the mystery boy is and at least Chat Noir got to throw a tantrum about it, where's Marinette's tantrum?!

I'll say the one point I give to the Girl Squad is them telling Marinette she's crazy for agreeing to third wheel this date and that she should definitely cancel on Adrien. If he can't handle being alone with the girl he wants to date, that sounds like a them problem, there's being selfless and then there's being masochistic, girl.

But then they lose that point for yelling over her when she tells them she's going to try being Just a Friend for Adrien.

The Girl Squad scene is also frustrating in this way that Miraculous is continuously frustrating in that the characters just don't quite say the thing that makes sense (like in "Maledictator" with Marinette calling Chloe "useless" instead of things that would actually stick like "bully"). Marinette says she's giving up on Adrien because she stutters around him and dating would be impossible if she can't even talk to him, and that she's calmer when she's trying to be his friend instead of dating him.

But what she should have said was "he just asked me advice on how to ask out someone else, he's clearly not into me!"

She has a good point with the stuttering thing, but that puts all the weight on HER for the relationship not taking off. It's HER that can't get it together, it's HER that can't get her words out, it's HER that's stopping them from being together. Meanwhile Adrien's over here asking out other girls, calling her "just a friend", not showing up to meet ups that she'll be at... Hell, he tried to set HER up with SOMEONE ELSE ("Animan"). He doesn't want to date her! Message Recieved!

So she brings in Luka, (which honestly, smart move, because how much would Kagami have REALLY hated Marinette if she showed up by herself on THEIR date) and we get The Metaphors.

Marinette is clumsy, this is a known fact, yet the only times she's clumsy at the ice rink is because she's focused on Adrien - when she focuses on Luka, she's smooth, easily let's him guide her, and is pulling off professional moves. ALMOST like he's a good, calming influence compared to the chaotic energy that Adrien brings.

The "problem" (if you're writing for this show and want to encourage Adrien and Marinette being together) is that the episode never challenges why this should be a bad thing. They want her to be with Adrien, soooo why are they basically visually proving why Luka is the better option? Why does this whole episode feel like it's actively trying to turn Marinette away from Adrien?

I mean obviously they're starting the Love Rival drama, but I mean long term. With the Skating Metaphor and Marinette bringing up how her own inability to think clearly around Adrien is a problem, and then never COUNTERING those problems, why are we supposed to root for them again?

Oh because Luka gave his consent in the end, not because of any merit that Adrien brings to the table, got it.

Then there's the obvious Two Guys Reaching Out to Help Marinette Up and She Hesitates Because Her Heart is in Conflict Metaphor. I only give this one props because at least none of the characters explained that one, they just let that one speak for itself, even if it was obvious.

Though that one accidentally extended when the reason Marinette doesn't choose is because Phillipe forces his way into the interaction to beg Adrien to join his rink - kinda like random, out of pocket shit that she has no control over is CONSTANTLY MESSING UP HER ATTEMPTS TO MAKE MOVES.

Gosh Kagami, maybe Marinette would've made a choice if she'd gotten five seconds between them without INTERRUPTIONS! Maybe she even would've grabbed BOTH of their hands, then what would you have done?

Sighhhh, I'm sorry Kagami, I don't mean to rip on you. It's just that you were so freaking RUDE in this episode to anyone who wasn't Adrien (and also a little bit to Adrien tbh). You can turn Phillipe's offer down without telling him his favorite sport is basically trash. You can help Marinette up without rubbing it in that you got the guy first. You can let Adrien turn Phillipe down himself without peeing on him, as if you're jealous of a this guy just for asking Adrien to join a sport ("he already fences with ME!"). Let the boy speak for himself - maybe he actually was interested, did you check in on what he wants?

Yes, Adrien shouldn't just go along with people to make them happy, but he's not going to learn to stand up for himself if you just speak for him.

And Luka...well you're just here for a good time, aren't you? So patient, so kind, so the only person in the room who can read the writing on the wall. At least someone in this group isn't lying to themselves.

I'm losing steam, so let's rapid fire:

I knew I'd hate Phillipe as soon as I saw him and I was right. He's annoying and I bet he's the reason no one wants to come to his stupid ice rink because he's lurking there interrupting other people's dates. I was on Andre's side when he ragged on him for trying to force people to join (though dude you gave him ten minutes, what did you think would happen?)

Luka's so magical he can play electric guitar without an amp or any sound amplifying device, impressive. Or the people on this show have never touched an instrument.

Also Luka, your advice to just be natural and go with the flow is great and also WASTED on Adrien, his "natural" is a DISASTER.

Adrien panic-lying that he brought Marinette to teach him how to skate was pointless. Maybe Kagami would've thought it was endearing you were too nervous to go on a date with her alone if you were just honest about it, but now it's just Another Thing Kagami has to turn into a competition because she sees Marinette as a RiVaL (which honestly amazing jumping to conclusions because wut, where'd you get that idea?)

Also, does Kagami shoot a bow? She says she only participates in "noble" sports, like bow or fencing, but I can't tell if she's listing sports she considers noble, or listing sports she participates in. Also what does a "noble" sport even mean?

S-stalac-Tikki...and Plagg-lagla. I know it's Plagg-Glacier in English, but it's Plagg-lagla in French and it sounds like Adrien's VA is gargling or stuttering when he tries to say it.

What happened to Luka and Kagami, you're not even going to show them frozen?!

Frozer is so ugly omigoooood not looking forward to drawing him.

So yeah, anyway, Frozer is hard to watch, especially with hindsight, the bad parts with Chat Noir are really bad but don't stick around long, so there's that, and while it doesn't feel like the characters are being too bad during this whole "dating" fiasco, it suuuuure feels like the writers were~

#ml salt #writing salt #looots of writing salt #frozer salt #my opinion #adrien salt #kagami salt #honestly it really is mostly the writing that's so bad #I did consider bringing in Ice Viperion and Ice Ryuko but logistically that doesn't work in SL since Marinette's not guardian #I might draw them for fun anyway but don't expect them in the episode #an essay by zoe

[sugolara]

𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝘿𝙖𝙝𝙡𝙞𝙖

ft. yandere! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

previous || series m.list || next

Good Taste

F/n was bored as she sat in detention. She had nothing to work on and so she stared ahead, her eyes passing by a sleeping Shota. She could hear a few other people talking quietly like Yuuga who looked at himself in a mirror admiring himself.

She then could hear Mina, Hanta and Denki trying to muffle their laughs and let out a few snickers. She could also hear Tooru talking to Kyoka.

So many people were in detention. It was probably for being tardy or messing around in class.

She was lost in thought that she hadn't realized Mina, Hanta and Denki moved towards her. A hand landed on her shoulder which caught her attention. One look at the three and F/n knew they were up to no good.

She raised her eyebrow, "I'm not going to do something for you. I'll get into even bigger trouble. Remember last time?"

Denki laughed at the memory, "That was funny."

Mina grinned, "We're not here for that. We're here for something else."

F/n grew even more suspicious, "What is it?"

Hanta cleared his throat as he sat backwards on his chair and a smile faintly on his lips, "Do you know why Katsuki hates Izuku?"

F/n hesitantly shook her head, "No."

"Well we do!" Mina quietly exclaimed as to not wake up Shota.

Although she was curious as to why the blonde disliked her friend, she didn't want to seem like a fake friend especially when Izuku had done nothing to her, "I'm not into drama."

Hanta waved her off, "It's not that bad, really. I'm pretty sure Katsuki exaggerated a few things. Dude must really hate him."

Well, it would be another 20 minutes until detention was over. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she heard a few things. Besides, she wasn't one to judge people based on previous actions.

Yeah, it wouldn't hurt.

Lunch time arrived, the smell of food made their stomachs rumble. With Ochaco sitting next to F/n, she hummed in delight as she munched on some rice, "Lunch will always be my favorite subject!"

As always Tenya who sat in front of the two girls scolded Ochaco, "It is not polite to eat with your mouth full."

The brown-headed girl chuckled, "Sorry."

On the other side of F/n, Shoto twirled his soba with his chopsticks, "Did you hear they're opening a carnival later today?"

"Oh, I did!" F/n perked up, "We should all go!"

"But it is a school night." Tenya pointed out, "If we get home late we'll be tardy tomorrow and we'll have to serve detention. Being tardy stays on your school records until you graduate!"

"Can't you let loose today?" Ochaco whined.

Of course he didn't want to disappoint his friends so let out a small sigh, "I suppose I can. But I'll be chaperoning you all."

"Are we 12 again?" Shoto sarcastically said.

As her friends conversed, F/n had forgotten that Izuku was sitting with them. She felt bad that she had even forgotten about him, "..You are coming to, right, Izuku?"

Was staying quiet all it took to get your attention?

"Oh..yeah, that is if you don't mind." He softly said. He felt weird. He tried looking at F/n's bright e/c eyes but his own eyes darted elsewhere.

Why did he feel so weird?

It wasn't like before where he would be shy.

No.

She noted his behavior. She understood how he felt on so many levels and tried her best to make him feel even more welcomed. The girl offered him a polite smile as well as having an energetic tone to her voice in hopes Izuku could feel a tad bit better, "Of course! We'll all go home and then meet each other at the carnival! How does that sound?"

They all nodded and continued to eat their lunch.

However, Izuku stared down at his bowl. His body was starting to hurt.

Strange.

He focused on his food wishing that the pain would go away, the meat and rice no longer looked tasty. It was only for a split second, but the bowl of food did not look like..food. His eyes then began to twitch violently. It was bothersome as he tried to gain control of it but it seemed as every time he tried, it would retaliate. So he instead closed it.

Surely, if someone were to take a glance at him they would think he was crazy. He was just glad his so-called friends were too busy chatting and ignoring him once again.

For a moment, the pain and twitch left. Before he could let out a low sigh of relief, he jolted in his seat, his hands slamming the table causing his friends to startle. His body felt like he was on fire, it was terribly bad that he almost felt like he could pass out.

His chest.

His legs.

His arms.

"Izuku!" Since Tenya sat next to him, he held the shaking smaller male, "Are you alright!?"

F/n worriedly glanced at him as he later fell in Tenya's arms. She quickly reached to his side, his body felt extremely warm, "Izuku!?"

Ochaco also stood up as well as Shoto. People around began to glance at them with worried and annoyed looks.

Sensing the attention, Shoto walked towards the three, "We should take him to the nurse."

The three quickly nodded and unknowingly left Ochaco behind. She packed up her stuff, feeling the amount of stares made her embarrassed as she walked out and joined the rest of her friends. 

In the nurse's room, the old lady shook her head, "He's just got a fever going on, nothing too severe."

"I'm not sure.." F/n worryingly looked at a sleeping Izuku, "It didn't look like a fever."

Tenya agreed with her and looked at Ms. Shuzenji, "Yes, he looked like he was in pain."

"Apart from having a fever, he does look a little malnourished." Ms. Shuzenji let out a hum, "He will be fine as long as he gets some rest and food into his body."

Ochaco finally made it to the room. She stood next to Shoto, her brows furrowed as she looked at Izuku, "What's wrong?"

"A fever." Shoto simply said.

"But-" F/n tried to protest but the nurse began to shoo them away. "Your dear friend will be alright now, get to class. His mother will arrive soon so no need to worry about him."

The door slammed closed on their faces. They accepted defeat and headed to class where they quietly worried about their freckled friend. Tenya, as Class Rep, informed Shota of Izuku's situation.

The teacher nodded and resumed class.

From her seat, F/n eyed the back of Katsuki's head. She already knew that the blonde could feel her stare as he shifted in his seat and grumbled to himself, most likely cursing, but she didn't care. Not when her mind began to wander to today's events.

He looked normal, so what was it that caused him to react in such ways? She didn't know and only let out an internal sigh.

As she said before, she wasn't one to judge someone based on previous actions but, was it true?

What Katsuki had told Mina, Denki and Hanta and what they told her. Was it all true? Should she be the one to watch him carefully?

She rested her cheek on her palm. All this began to make her head hurt once again. Only this time, the pain wasn't as bad as it was before.

#izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #bnha midoriya #yandere izuku x reader #deku x reader

[dr4kenlvr]

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 !!

feat. mikey sano, draken, baji keisuke, chifuyu matsuno, mitsuya takashi (reader is mentioned here and there too!) - crack/humour/fluff (1.2k+)

nana's note: can toman boys drive cars?? no keep reading to find out about the boys and their driving habits!! spoiler alert: in no way should you drive like them please don't listen to this post LMAO

MIKEY

to mikey, the written test wasn't too bad—he went in, sat in his little cubicle, and got through the questionnaire without too much issue

dude couldn't lie though, he was sweating bullets at the demerit point questions FR

but of course, mikey boasts to everyone (especially baji but we'll get to that later) about his success, and is very excited to hit the road

didn't realize just how small being behind a car wheel feels until he sits and needs to bump the seat up a few notches LMAO

baji teases him: "you need heels on to reach the pedals, too? HAHHAHA"

is constantly driving with an :0 expression

"oh my god, the car is moving ken, im making the car move—ken, look!"

"yes mikey, your foot is on the gas pedal."

cheers when he does a left turn successfully, because fuck are those a pain in the ass sometimes

sometimes forgets to signal, and has been flipped off a few times for almost crashing in front of the car behind him

"oops!"

mikey absolutely has a snack stash in his trunk too—it's filled, and always being refilled, with sweets, savoury treats, and drinks

"y/n, could you grab me a bag of chips please? any flavour!" he yells from the front

???? what ????—you crane your head back to a fucking kitchen of snacks like it's normal for anyone to have that much

occasionally gets extremely tired at the wheel, and shuts his eyes for two seconds at a red light

it's either a honk waking him up or ken profusively cursing at him

"oops!" x2

DRAKEN

now i don't wanna be bias (user dr4kenlvr, am i right), but ken is probably the second best driver on this list

written test wise, he passed on the first try

wasn't too difficult, and the lady at the desk even congratulated him with a warm smile, to which he happily returned

he got use to the mechanisms of the car pretty quickly

all of these gears and switches were like second nature to him, considering how much he works with motorbikes on the regular

likes to play music as he drives, it varies depending on the time of day it is

nice r&b on a night drive is always his favourite though

once draken gets really comfortable with the wheel, he'll have an arm hanging out the window

heavenly sigh—he looks really good <3

never drove alone with just his G1, despite his delinquent reputation

good job ken!!

one thing though: he has an oddly high level of road rage LMFAOOO

draken thinks it's probably because he's in a car—surrounded by 4 walls—rather than being out in the open like on a bike

people can't hear him curse the living hell out of them with the windows up so...

"what the FUCK, ASSHOLE?—CAN'T SEE I'M TRYNA FUCKIN' PASS?"

"SIGNAL NEXT TIME, YOU BITCH."

"ARGHHH—QUIT YOUR HONKING YOU DICK! I HEAR 'YA"

"WHY IS THIS GUY UP MY FUCKING ASS."

yeah, he gets loud LMAOO and vulgar

with his viens popping out and shit, he probably looks crazy if you pull up next to him in the adjacent lane

just don't look over, you'll be okay

HELP

same ken

BAJI

this mf spent months studying for the written test

he was extremely keen on doing well too, because he wanted the luxury of being able to finally drive a car

baji also wanted to be able to drive his mother to and from work, so that she "wouldn't have to take public transit all the time"

love you keisuke

created study nights with chifuyu, where the boys would quiz each other on repetitive shit like signs

"okay, what's this one?"

"uhh.. there's like a merry-go-round ahead?"

"wha—? d'you mean a ROUNDABOUT???"

he had the right spirit, so chifuyu gave him a point either way AHSDHDSHF

time rolled around and baji declared him finally ready to take on the test and..

...he passed!! yay keisuke !!!

dude wanted to explode from the sheer relief, he literally picked you up and spun you around 18 times out of happiness

BUT THIS MF ON THE ROAD IS SO FUCKING WILD—he's good with the wheel, but like there's always something going on in his car

you could get whiplash by how fast he goes sometimes

he doesn't even mean to

50 maximum but he's going 80

"YOU'RE GONNA GET PULLED OVER OR KILL SOMEONE, KEI' SLOW DOWN."

"oH—FUCK, SORRY! sorry!"

also is a huge multitasker - and isn't too shabby at it

he could be calling someone via bluetooth speaker, while eating, while scratching his back, while signalling into the right lane ALL AT ONCE

miraculous how he doesn't have even a scratch or dent yet to be honest

idk man, just make sure you have your seatbelt on at all times, kay'?

CHIFUYU

i think he gets a little too excited every time he gets behind the wheel

like hes giggling with every lane change or right turn

literally fucking SCREAMS when he sees a cat walk on the road

"NOOOOOOOOOOO—"

"chifuyu, it's fine! it walked back. K-KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!"

has a cushion specifically for peke j in the back seat where no one can sit or move it to sit

"ahh no. that's peke j's spot, you can sit in the trunk or something."

baji: "are you fucking kidding me."

LMAO

speaking of peke j, he has a component in his trunk filled with toys and cat food for him

it's honestly really sweet, how much he cares and cherishes his little cat

you can't find the heart to be too angry with him when you find cat fur stuck to the seats

i think chifuyu has a lot of fucking fast food garbage in his car too

his mom (and you) is always up his ass about it:

"CLEAN YOUR DAMN GARBAGE MATSUNO. THIS IS A CAR, NOT A LANDFILL."

like, you would sit in the passenger seat and at your feet there's just wrappers and straws and shit

you look at him with a look that just speaks volumes of "really?"

and he's all (｡╹ω╹｡)

it's an honest mistake <3

MITSUYA

oh god—the most responsible driver out of his friends by FAR

he is so so happy when he passes, because he is able to get things done quicker with a car than by walking

dropping/picking up his sisters from school, escorting his mother to places, getting groceries, visiting his friends, just about everything in his life is made 10x easier and faster

mitsuya's car ALWAYS smells good

he's always got a new car freshener hooked onto his rearview mirror when the scent runs out

his favourite is lavender <3 and his sisters like the fruity ones but they make his and your's nose tickle

DRIVES WITH ONE HAND ON YOUR KNEE !!!!!

and he does that fucking cute side smile when he talks to you but also needs to pay attention to the road

AHHH <3

LOVES to bring his sisters on drives around the neighbourhood once he gets his full license

plays their favourite songs and sings out loud with them

it'll be cartoon openings and disney soundtracks but he doesn't mind

not when the grin on your's and his sister's faces are so bright and genuine

omfg - picnics where you two set up food in the trunk and watch luna and mana play at the playground

and they rush over when they're hungry to eat and rest

HOW FUCKING CUTE AND PERFECT

MITSUYA TAKASHI IS PERFECT

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya @gwynsapphire @sscarchiyo @reiners-milkbiddies @smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog @thisbicc @megumisemo (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

#mikey sano headcanons #mikey headcanons #draken headcanons #baji keisuke headcanons #baji headcanons #chifuyu headcanons #chifuyu matsuno headcanons #mitsuya headcanons #mitsuya takashi headcanons #tokyo revengers headcanons #mikey x reader #draken x reader #baji x reader #mitsuya x reader #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers crack #mikey sano x reader #baji keisuke x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers x reader crack

[kyupidos]

3/27/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

this happened at the start!ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘how do i summarize this? ah..you, you are the tsundere. enough said.’

avg of 750~ words per bc i accidentally went a wee insane 😞

characters. special : enma yuuken , hirasaka yuuka , mito yuuta ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is not yuu, reader belongs to the dorms of the books each yuu belongs to, pre-relationship, use of ‘dude’ in yuuta’s but it’s meant to be gender neutral ack, romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. we as a twst society don’t have enough tsundere mcs. pls bro someone write for tsundere mc bro pls pls

e. yuuken

— paint the roses red, paint the roses red.. keeping up with the 810 rules of heartslabyul is a chore, but you’d rather not it be ‘off with your head’, right? the sound of a ‘click’ brought you out of your focus, giving you time to notice four people, particularly those who you recognized to be the ones who broke the chandelier and nearly got expelled. “yo, cater,” you called out in complaint at the way he was pulling off his work for even a moment, “hurry it up and get back here. i’ll snitch if you keep that up.”

— “huh?! oh? rightt, no time to chat then!” he called out right back, and the last thing you saw was his apparent recruitment of the ones you hereby declared the freshmen delinquents before you figured you might as well get back to work—before you were promptly distracted once more, but this time by someone specifically; who you recalled to be the newly appointed dorm leader of ramshackle, who from cater’s chatting you recognized as well to be ‘yuuken’. “sorry for the interruption..” he began awkwardly, but for some reason you found it in yourself to not be rude about it unlike usual, “i’m trying to help out with the roses and all, so..do you know any places that still need painting?”

— well, at the very least, he seemed competent enough for the job; plus you’d have less work to deal with in the end. you nodded carefully, shrugging in the direction of an area you’d yet to paint. “mm? this sure is a lot of work,” and while you thought he was complaining, “but i’m sure we can get it done in time. you were going to do this with just yourself and cater, right? your work’s commendable.” your eye twitched, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered—you just couldn’t help but end up that way whenever someone complimented you, huh?

— “go ahead and get back to work,” you tried to distract as you started to think about how handsome he really was, which you didn’t even start to pay attention to before that little compliment of his, “i’m not trying to lose my magic any time soon.” you were a little worried he’d be upset with you at your unintentionally aggrieved tone, but by the looks of it he didn’t really mind. “oh, right, sorry, but thanks for helping me out!” and he waved before heading to the area of the maze you directed him to.

— you were just about done in your area, barely even realizing how you were suddenly so motivated to finish up. you just shrugged, before you noticed how yuuken seemed to be just a little behind, given he was without magic and needed to use paint instead; so..you might as well help him out, right? “ah, uhm, hey..!” you cringed a little at how nervous you made yourself out to be, especially when you weren’t usually like that, “do you—do you maybe need help?” “oh, that’d be nice, it’s a little hard to do this much with just paint.” that was that then, and you ended up losing yourselves in conversation, your ability to keep painting the roses left to just muscle memory; you did unintentionally insult and berate him at times though, and you were thankful he brushed it off. once you both finished though, you had to move onto separate areas of the maze to keep it up, but as you inevitably had to leave him alone, you left with a smile and still flustered, barely realizing that much.

— ..and that just a few moments later was when you found that they were promptly by cater. you’d give yourself time to be just a little disappointed, before you were once again faced with interruption, and while you’d be aggrieved about it.. “hey, so you’re into that yuuken guy, right?” “huh?! no way?!” ..but a part of you was upset you’d denied it like that. and how you’re back to being aggrieved that yuuken’d managed to get you so flustered like that. even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him like you usually would someone who complimented you like he did.

— you liked it, in fact.

h. yuuka

— you tried your best to restrain yourself from yawning overdramatically as you were surrounded by people, who seemed adamant about warning you about a person who was apparently targeting people ready to participate in the spell drive tournament. well, it was an ego boost to know you were a “target”, but you were starting to get fed up with the way they also seemed adamant about “protecting” you. at least yuuka gave you a good enough space. on another note, she was really pretty and you liked her voice, maybe another reason you were alright with her concern for you as a target—you wouldn’t ever admit that, though. but then, back to the topic at hand..

— “eh, no need to worry about me,” you waved off uncaringly, yuuka raising her eyebrow at the likes, and while you’re sure the others did also, you were really only paying attention to her despite the fact that your eyes were closed with how apparently over the top you were being. “i won’t be targeted. go after some others or something, i’m fine.” her friends you knew eventually got the hint, light banter as they checked for other possible apparent targets, while yuuka seemed to linger. “my bad if i’m being a bit invasive,” she began, as if knowing you may be ticked off ( and while you admit you may have appeared so outwardly you could never be ticked off at her ), “but how do you know you won’t be targeted at all?”

— alright alright, stick to savanaclaw’s plan or admit to the girl you’ve found yourself liking, stick to the plan or tell yuuka why..nope, nope nope nope, you can’t bring yourself to step away from the plot. as for yuuka though, you can’t help but keep away from disappointing her. “whoever it is, i couldn’t care less, i’ll deal with them,” and you cringed at the way you could tell why yuuka’d deem you ticked off by how you come off, “you think i’m not capable?” but yuuka, ever so resilient ( you’d found you tend to never stop finding ways to praise her ), didn’t seem too upset about your words.

— “oh no don’t worry, it’s not like that,” she noted, making her point clear with the point of her finger, “it’s just, i want to make sure nobody gets injured, right? especially you, you know.” uh, wait—uh, huh? “me? especially?” you find yourself just barely capable of getting out as you end up annoyed with yourself at the way your face began to heat up, and yuuka didn’t take back her words at all. “yeah, i mean, we’re friends, aren’t we?” she smiled while hoping to confirm, which brought you back memories; right, that. you recall completely like it was mere yesterday, how without thinking you smacked one of your dorm mates behind the head for trying to pick a fight with her, before dragging them off to help you with something random.

— you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by the way she referred to you as ‘friends’, but to be fair, it should technically be vice versa in that case since the action meant nothing to you, but it made her ease up around you, it seemed, and she started to become accustomed to having at least some light conversation with you every now and then. but, you had to start somewhere, right? even if you had a bit of trouble expressing your own feelings, then surely..

— “y..yeah, right! we’re friends..” you tried to wave off uncaringly as you did so easily before, and yet you were nervous by how it came off making you look more flustered than you were trying not to be, but even if yuuka did notice, she didn’t point it out. you couldn’t help but be grateful for that. “but, uh, don’t try using that for favors, ‘kay?! i won’t be helping you around savanaclaw or in your little quest for that perpetrator of yours or anything..” you slipped up with your mention of savanaclaw; you didn’t even notice actually in your embarrassed state, but yuuka just nodded at the clue in, waving to you, mentioning how she’ll be happy to see you in class later, you finding it in yourself to at least wave back.

— you can only thank your past self for that little, unimportant action.

m. yuuta

— you were simply helping out deuce and ace around now that they were to work under azul given their contracts. absolutely not to indirectly get in yuuta’s good graces because you can’t bring yourself to admit you want his affections for things like helping lighten his load. but in hindsight, you probably should’ve taken into account that the two would probably notice why you were catering to them despite how obvious it was that yuuta was the one you favored of the trio. equally not on your mind, ace’s annoyance to the way you always seemed to be on yuuta’s mind and wanting to get your mushiness over with, and deuce’s genuine want to help the both of you out in the romance depart. so in the end, they practically became your wingmen, albeit unspokenly so.

— in which case, when yuuta initially came to octavinelle to see what was up and about with his suspicions of the anemone ( an appearance ace and deuce were thankful for anyway ), they brought his attention to your aid, ace teasingly so and deuce in a more genuine tone, but tomato tomato, they got the message across. and lucky you, because just moments ago they let you in on random little tid bits to know about yuuta, like his favorite foods in particularly, and seeing as you worked in the mostro lounge, it was of course a given that’d be your go to.

— thus when he and jack were eventually seated at one of the table booths and he called out to you happily in recognition of your figure, you did your best to keep straight faced and push away the sparkles around you at the elation that he could tell it was you from just that much. jade had finished telling them about the lounge, and it seemed they were ready to order their one drink minimum. and there you were, already ready with at least a meal you knew yuuta would like, plated and everything. maybe you shouldn’t have been so hasty and waited instead for him to make an order so it wouldn’t look like you were looking to make a meal for him..

— well, you reaped what you sowed; and he was calling out to you, and you felt like if you didn’t respond then the guilt would gnaw at you so bad you’d be willing to sign a contract with azul to find a way to redo it all—and considering all that was going on at the moment because of how many people had decided to sign contracts, displayed clearly because of the anemones..well, you weren’t up for that any time soon. thus off you went to greet him at his table, passing by jade who give you a teasing glance, which you tried not to grit your teeth at as you thinly smiled his way.

— “ah, yuuta! i’ve heard you’ve been the talk of the town lately, hm? we’ve been expecting you, so i’ve prepared you a little something..” and with an internal huge sigh of relief that you managed to play it off so smoothly, you presented him the dish you put together ( thank goodness for your excellent customer service the octotrio had ingrained into you ), before remembering jack who was beside him, “oh? and an extra, my condolences! anything you’d like?” yuuta looked like he had something to say; before a certain eel interrupted the moment.

— “[y/n], giving out free meals, i see?” jade spoke, more teasing in his tone as if he wasn’t truly reprimanding you ( he found your crush on yuuta quite funny ), “not to worry, we already have staff to deal with orders, remember? they ought to pay for their meals.” so you with forced, with an unfortunate strained breath in, to go off and do the work you were supposed to do in the first place as ace and deuce were to take over, though so obviously begrudgingly. but, they stopped you midway through your pout, “don’t worry dude,” ace strained to reassure as the anemone pulled him toward where jade directed, “we know you’re head over heels for him..” deuce was quick to follow, equally resistant ( though of course it’ll always be futile ), “we’ll—hrk—we’ll try to help out!” thank goodness you’d already served him, otherwise the meal’d have fallen to the floor the way you covered your flustered face with the tray that was holding it.

— well, at least you had a sure fire way to figure out how to romance yuuta without your accidental meanness getting in the way..

#🦢 swan signed ! #kyupidos #and i ask bc #i’m not good at writing tsundere readers myself 😞😞 #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #twst fluff #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst ramshackle #ramshackle #ramshackle x reader #enma yuuken #yuuken x reader #yuuken x gn reader #yuuka hirasaka #yuuka x reader #yuuka x gn reader #mito yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta x gn reader

[recurring-polynya]

It's been over a year, and I'm still never not thinking about the fact that that Hihiou Zabimaru was one man's unsuccessful forty-year project to beat Kuchiki Byakuya in particular. And, like, that sounds so pathetic and depressing, but it's really not! For one, the fact that Hihiou Zabimaru is designed to fight against Senbonzakura means that they also fight really well together, in the sense that they are both useful in the same conditions, and they cover for each other's weaknesses (Senbonzakura is faster, Zabimaru is more durable). Both of them can do offense or defense, but have trouble doing both at once. That's not a problem if Byakuya and Renji work together, and gives them a lot of flexibility.

Sometimes the way to defeat a sword is to create its opposite, but in this case, they're actually pretty similar, and if you think about the skills needed to wield them, they're very similar. For all that Byakuya and Renji butted heads in the Soul Society Arc, they get their shit sorted out pretty well, and by the TYBW, I think they have one of the best captain-lieutenant fighting partnerships, in terms of communication, trust, and sweet combo moves (Hitsugaya-Matsumoto is the other one that comes close, imo).

My thesis of this Tumblr post is that I think Byakuya spent a lot of time mentoring Renji, and the development of his bankai, specifically. From the first moment he sees it, Byakuya comments that Hihiou Zabimaru is Good, Actually.

He then immediately identifies how to defeat it:

I simply love whenever one slightly older Bleach character who is fighting a younger one cannot stop themself from giving battle tips and general life advice to their opponents (Ikkaku and Renji both do this to Ichigo and then Byakuya does this to Renji). I'm sure you could chalk it up to shounen manga using its characters as mouthpieces to explain what's going on, but in my mind and in my heart, it's because these dudes just love teaching!!! And you know why Byakuya was able to pinpoint Renji's weakness, just, immediately? Because that was him. You think Ginrei didn't do exactly this same thing to him a thousand times when he was learning to use Senbonzakura Kageyoshi?? (oh shit oh FUCK it's literally The Dodge all over again).

Anyway, you will never convince me that Byakuya doesn't love the fact that Renji picked him as his Favored Enemy and then went ahead and developed the Most Fun Bankai Possible for Senbonzakura Kageyoshi to Fight.

Just today, I realized that, while So-oh Zabimaru might represent Renji moving on from his rivalry with Byakuya, they also contain a very visible aspect of Byakuya's influence: the hand movement.

I'm not gonna lie, mostly I wanted to make this post because the idea of post-Blood War Byakuya and Renji sparring in bankai and waving their arms around like they're casting wizard spells is extremely hilarious to me. Do you think Byakuya could shape his petals into a giant hand so they can magically arm-wrestle? (RIP Komamura, this could have been you)

All jokes aside, though, the idea that it took Byakuya's help for Renji to learn to use The Grabby Arm--the thing that allows him to close distance, the thing that allows him to hold on to the things that matter to him--is honestly kinda poignant.

#renji abarai #byakuya kuchiki #byakuya and renji's weird relationship #rukia and renji are. combined. the little sibling byakuya never knew he wanted #rukia is his actual sibling which works because she's as uncomfy expressing affection as he is #renji is the pseudo-sibling who wants to be just like him and also they get to beat each other up #just an extremely ideal setup for ol' B #renji would be a bad real sib tho because he would want hugs #kuchiki do not hug #it's possible that rukia hugs renji. that is none of byakuya's business and he does not wish to know anything about it

[miyuti]

“Tea..! Fresh tea!” the Tea Master calls out from his stand, a warm smile on his face as he serves the warm, magical tasting beverage from his ceramic teapot. The sound of the pouring liquid into the wooden, hand-carved cups made from a weeping willow coming over the little girl in front of the stall, waiting impatiently to get her taste of this magical tea. “Here you go, little one. Careful now.. it’s piping hot.” The Tea Master warns, but the girl does not heed his words, gripping onto the cup and hurrying off to her mother. The Tea Master laughs, looking down at his ceramic teapot, he ponders.. What would it be like to have a child of his own?

“Welcome to the world, little one..”

Awakening with a shock, you sit up with a teapot mysteriously placed on your lap, you can’t help but feel familiar with the feel of it. Looking around, you have been placed in the middle of an overgrown plot of land with a simple, yet mysterious wooden mailbox next to you. You stand up and realize.. this is the new life you’ve been given, and you must make the best of it.

Hello friends! Thank you for stopping by! Underneath the cut will be my very first Legacy challenge on this blog! It's a Tea Inspired Legacy! I hope you enjoy!

I apologize in advance, this post will be long, but I hope it'll be worth it for you! Or I will disappoint you as much as EA's new packs do-

Before we begin, I'd like to clarify some things and give some general notes that might be good to keep in mind for this challenge! As well as tag some creators that were a HUGE help with this challenge! Thank you so much to @magpietrait @nicatnite88 @vibratingbed @forbiddenwhims and @pluto-sims for the help with this challenge!! They were all a big help with giving me motivation, inspiration and feedback! Kisses for all of u gimme ur autograph pls ty ♡ Dividers by @/cafekitsune here on tumblr!

❥ 1. Please do not feel pressured to conform to every single rule I've set in this Legacy Challenge! If you feel it is stressing you out, CHANGE IT! Nobody will get mad at you, not me, not anybody. Focus on having fun instead of feeling like it's a chore.

❥ 2. Please tag me in your stories, edits and sim screenshots for this legacy!! I want to see what you guys do with this. Of course it's no requirement, but it'd make me a very happy little dude!

❥ 3. If you are having struggles with choosing a name for each Tea Generation, feel free to use the actual generation name instead! Though, there's a lot of tea out there, so I don't think that will be an issue.

❥ 4. Keep in mind that you're allowed to mix and match the traits and aspirations I've chosen for each generation! And if those traits don't work out for your story, feel free to pick your own!

❥ 5. Don't feel like you have to make your sim a specific style, if you have an idea for your Generation Heir/Founder, go nuts!! I encourage creativity on this blog! i love seeing ppls sim ocs fr pls go nuts im begging u

❥ 6. You may mix and match with the generation order! If you feel that something would be more fun to complete now, go right ahead! Or if you feel a specific Tea Name would better suit the sim you're working on right now, feel free to shuffle the names around!

❥ 7. You can play on whatever lifespan you want, no rule for that. Whatever you feel is the optimal for you! Normal, Custom or Long, doesnt matter!

Now for the General Rule Set! These will be your Foundation for your legacy challenge, and these are the ones I highly recommend you do not change, as they're what sets the groundwork for your stories! At least I'd like to think that--

❥ 1. The most important rule of them all, there must be a teapot somewhere in each Generation house. See it as an heirloom from the Tea Master! Why it's in the spot it is, what attachment your sim has to it and why they decide to keep it is completely up to you! It can be any sort of teapot, CC, Functional or purely a Decoration, doesn't matter as long as it looks like a teapot!

❥ 2. You start out with 1800 Simoleons and choose a bigger plot of land. You may not move from this plot of land until the last generation is finished.

❥ 3. For every world outside of the one your sims live in you must pay a Bus Ticket Fee of 50 Simoleons. If you own the High School Years pack, going to school or prom will not require you to pay the fee, as school buses exist. You also do not need to pay when traveling to different neighbourhoods in the same world as your home, as you can walk to the block down the street but cant walk from Los Angeles to New York City.

❥ 4. You must start off the Legacy as a Teenager! You are not allowed to have part-time jobs during your time as a teenager, you need to live off of the land.

❥ 5. You may add as many gameplay mods as you want, however you may not use cheats to increase skill gain, funds or needs, you may not use cheats to boost your career, delete moodlets or add moodlets to your sims. Only some exceptions that will be stated in the rules when they come up.

❥ 6. You have to name your sims after the tea type stated in their generation! So for example, Generation 1 could be named Earl Gray as a first name and Tea as a last name! (The last name is required.)

❥ 7. Your lot must have the 'Simple Living' Lot Challenge. For an extra challenge you may add the 'Off-the-Grid' Lot Challenge too.

♡ Generation One - Black Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choices:

Successful Lineage or

Big Happy Family

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Gloomy

Self-Assured

Ambitious

Family-Oriented

Jealous

❥ Career Choices:

Unemployed! (Srry abt that)

❥ Life Goals:

If you are getting a spouse, marry them after becoming Good Friends.

Have at least two children.

Plan Birthday Events for every single sim in your household (outside of pets and farm animals)

Have two or more of your Children fall in the range of a Positive Extra Trait. (Such as Mediator, Good Manners, etc.)

Max the Parenting skill.

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Two - Green Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Angling Ace or

The Curator

❥ Trait Choices (Choose Only 3!):

Green Fiend

Recycle Disciple

Lazy

Loves Outdoors

Genius

❥ Career Choices:

Culinary or

Conservationist

❥ Life Goals:

Complete the Fish Collection and/or

Complete the Mineral Collection

Max your Career!

(If you want one) Find your Spouse in Granite Falls or Henford-on-Bagley

Make your Neighbourhood Eco Footprint Green!

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Three - White Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Master Chef or

Master Mixologist

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Foodie

Slob

Clumsy

Neat

Lactose Intolerant

❥ Career Choices:

Culinary (any branch)

❥ Life Goals:

Max Cooking Skill and/or

Max Mixologist Skill

Max Gourmet Cooking Skill

Purchase the 'Forever Full' Reward Trait

(Optional) Start your own Restaurant!

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Four - Pu Ehr Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Extreme Sports Enthusiast or

Archaeology Scholar

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Active

Adventurous

Loves Outdoors

Squeamish

Self-Absorbed

❥ Career Choices:

Military or

Athlete

❥ Life Goals:

Propose at the top of Mt. Komorebi and/or

Explore the Jungle at least 3 times in your lifetime

Have a child complete an Active aspiration

Max out Archaeology Skill and/or

Max out Rock Climbing Skill

Buy the Reward Trait 'Brave'

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Five - Yellow Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Academic or

Computer Whiz

❥ Optional Challenges:

Complete the teenage aspiration Live Fast or Goal-Oriented

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Overachiever

Socially Awkward

Mean

Creative

Outgoing

Party Animal

❥ Career Choices:

Free Space! You may choose this one.

❥ Life Goals:

Graduate from University with an A or higher as your final GPA

Meet your soulmate at University!

Raise a child with the traits Top-Notch Infant & Top Notch Toddler as well as have that child complete a childhood aspiration.

Purchase the 'Mentor' Reward Trait

Complete the Fossil collection

Complete the Elements collection

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Six - Oolong Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

World-Famous Celebrity or

Master Actor/Actress

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Kleptomaniac

Self-Absorbed

High Maintenance

Music Lover

Good

Outgoing

❥ Career Choices:

Actor/Actress

❥ Life Goals:

Become a Proper Celebrity before the Adult Life Stage

Have either a Great or Awful Reputation before the Adult Life Stage

Become Enemies with 2 or more sims

Max out your Career

Win 3 Awards

Max out your Singing Skill

Max out your Dancing Skill

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Seven - Herbal Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Freelance Botanist or

Outdoor Enthusiast

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Loves Outdoors

Freegan

Squeamish

Loyal

Maker

Genius

❥ Career Choices:

Gardener or

Civil Designer

❥ Life Goals:

Max out the Gardening Skill

Max out the Herbalism Skill

Purchase the 'Super Green Thumb' Reward Trait

Make one of each Herbal Remedy

Complete the Insect Collection

Max out your Career

Complete your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Eight - Floral Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

The Curator or

Country Caretaker

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Foodie

Art Lover

Animal Enthusiast

Hot Headed

Adventurous

Clumsy

❥ Career Choices:

Gardener (the career path you didnt choose this time) or

Unemployed

❥ Life Goals:

Max out the Flower Arranging Skill

Save a sim from the Grim Reaper with a Death Flower

Purchase the 'Forever Fresh' Reward Trait

Be Good Friends with at least 5 of your Farm Animals

Max out Knitting skill

Knit 10 articles of clothing for your sims and/or animals

Max out your Aspiration!

♡ Generation Nine - Rooibos Tea ♡

❥ Aspiration Choice:

Nerd Brain or

Master Maker

❥ Trait Choices (Choose only 3!):

Maker

Green Fiend

Materialistic

Geek

Romantic

Unflirty

❥ Career Choice:

Engineer

❥ Life Goals:

Max out Robotics Skill

Max out Fabrication Skill

Build a Servo Bot

Finish the Metals Collection

Max out our Career

Complete your aspiration!

Thank you so much for taking the time with reading this post! I hope you enjoy the challenge, even if its just for the storytelling part! This is my first time making any challenge so I'm sorry if the challenges are underwhelming, but I hope that it won't be too easy! I'm not sure if this is actually doable because I am garbage at actually doing legacy challenges- Have a great day friends~

#ts4 challenge #the sims 4 legacy challenge #legacy challenge #long post #Tea Legacy Challenge #ugh this was so stressful but so fun at the same time #Tea Legacy Challenge Info Post

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Helloooo!

I don't really know how this thing work, because this is my first time and all.

But maybe heartslabyul people with a easy to forget Yuu?

Like Yuu could forget that they haven't eat yet and stuff, and could go on for hours before feeling hungry.

Yuu is pretty much dumb?? I wouldn't say dumb but more of a himbo? They can comfort you in their own way

Maybe you could call me

☕ Anon?

Or

Cafe anon ?

Is that how you do it???

Thank you to you this message, because you reply to this message!

- New Anon

Hi there, Cafe / ☕️ Anon! Thank you so much for sending in this ask. I know it can be a little intimidating and confusing if you don't do it often, so I appreciate it! And yes, this is how you can tag yourself as anon when you're still shy, though I've also seen some content creators dub anons based on the topic of the ask they sent in, so I guess it's whatever makes you comfortable!

I know I had done an "easily forgetful Yuu" in this post here, though it was more generalized rather than dorm specific. I can go a little deeper though, since I'll be focusing only on a handful of characters! Since you didn't specify any pronouns, I'll be using they/them for now so please keep that in mind if you want to send any future asks! >w<

I hope you enjoy this! I'll go ahead and say this now, but I imagined Kronk while I was writing this, and it made me happy~ ÚvÙ

////-------////

It was Ace and Deuce who realized early on how forgetful Yuu was, having to remind them why the four of them were prancing around an abandoned mineshaft dodging and not just having a midnight field trip. Despite being oblivious to the danger they were all in (especially when Deuce practically threw them onto his back and kicking away a giant centipede trying to bite them, or when Ace had to yank them back from falling into a large hole in the floor), Yuu somehow managed to stay calm enough to create a plan to beat the sludge phantom monster. As soon as the four retrieved the mage stone and destroyed the phantom, Yuu was so proud of their friends that they couldn’t resist reaching out to pet them while saying, “Good boys!”--much to the embarrassment and confusion of the monster trio.

As the days passed, Yuu and Grim spent the majority of their free time hanging out at Heartslabyul, getting to know everyone–including Riddle–very well. It was almost uncanny how easily Yuu was able to calm others down before trouble could start, whipping up spinach cream puffs with Trey and fawning over every animal in the dorm. So cheerful and content even with the visits with the researchers, it was hard to imagine the human ever getting angry–a little upset and pouty, but they would always bounce back with a smile.

“Totes a himbo,” Cater commented, adding a few hashtags to his latest post.

“What’s a himbo?” Deuce asked.

“It’s someone who’s big and strong yet oblivious or dumb,” Ace explained, smirking as he added, “Just like you!”

“Oi! I’m not stupid, Ace!”

“If the horseshoe fits!”

“Guys, take it easy,” Trey said. Thinking for a moment, he said, “It doesn’t exactly sound like a nice word to describe them…even if they are a little oblivious and forgetful.”

“It’s fine, really!” Cater said. “Himbos are described as being attractive but not quite so smart. Those tend to be pretty popular characters in media. See? As NRC’s only human rez, Magicam has been blowing up with likes and comments. Everyone loves Yuu!”

“Wow. Wait…what’s with the video of Yuu in a frilly apron and oven mitts?”

“Oh, that? I caught Yuu trying to open a box of treats for the lil’ hedgehog they were watching, and they forgot to take off the oven mitts. See the lil’ guy in the apron pocket? Totes adorable~!”

It was at that moment that Yuu came in, looking worse for wear as Riddle followed after them with a concerned expression. “Dude! What the hell happened to you?” Ace asked in shock.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Yuu asked, looking confused.

“I found them on campus near the forest,” Riddle said with an exasperated sigh, the faun pulling out the first aid kit and guiding Yuu to a stool. “They were attempting to climb a tree. Fortunately, they landed on a bush from a high point, so they didn’t get severely injured…as you can see, unfortunately, it was a thorned berry bush.”

“A baby bird fell out of the tree-ow!” they yelped, wincing when Riddle began plucking the thorns out of their clothes and skin with tweezers. “The little guy’s mom was worried, so I carried her baby up to her-ouch!-nest.”

“Jeez, did you slip off a branch or something?”

“Well…after I got it back in the nest, I…kinda forgot that I was standing on a branch and walked off.”

“...you…walked off the branch…”

“Yeah?”

“...how the hell have you not broken a leg?”

Yuu shrugged, wincing as Riddle began cleaning the scrapes and spots the thorns had been. “Aaaand…check!” Cater said, having taken another picture of Yuu’s messy self and typing away. “Ridiculously nic and oblivious. That’s our Yuu-bo!”

/—-----/

“Dinner’s ready!”

“Sweet! Breakfast for dinner? What’s the occasion?”

“I figured I’d do something nice and easy to make for everyone as a treat for helping me when I got hurt earlier,” Yuu explained, twirling the spatula in their hand before scooping up another pancake and flipping it onto a plate atop a stack of fluffy goodness. “Plus, Trey’s been working hard to feed us, so I wanted to help out!”

“Whoaaa, look at this spread!” Grim said, already drooling as he sniffed. “Eggs, bacon, sausages…oooh! These waffles have a heart stamped in the middle!”

“Oh yeah! I wanted to try out the new waffle iron one of Cater’s fans sent, and it works really well! It makes it easy to make a breakfast buffet.”

“I’m pretty sure the fans wanted you to have it anyway,” Trey uttered with a wry smile. Aloud, he said, “Thanks for making dinner, Yuu, but why don’t I take over? You��re still recovering from the fall.”

“I’ve got it, thanks! You already do a lot for everyone, so it’s your turn to relax.”

“Well…if you say so. Is this what you made for breakfast this morning?”

“...this morning?” Yuu repeated, expression going blank. “Oh…I think I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. Oops!”

Just then, a long, loud gurgling growl erupted from Yuu’s stomach, the room falling silent as everyone stared at them. It was Deuce who spoke as he asked, “Yuu…when was the last time you ate?”

Thinking for a moment, Yuu admitted, “Since…last night…I think? I remember feeding Grim, but…I got distracted and forgot to get a plate for myself.”

“Seriously? How in Twisted Wonderland are you still functioning on an empty tank!?” Ace said.

“I got so busy that I forgot I was even hungry! Let me just finish up this batch of pancakes and I’ll get some food, okay?”

“Nope. Not good enough,” Trey said.

Before Yuu could respond, the mixing bowl and spatula was plucked out of their hands by Trey while two of Cater’s clones appeared on either side of them. Led to a chair that was pulled out by a third clone, while the original hippogryph finished stacking a plate full of food before sliding it in front of them. “There we go! Make sure you eat every bite now, okay, Yuu-bo~?”

“Wha-? But what about the pancakes and waffles?” Yuu asked, looking concerned. “I gotta finish them–”

“I’ve got it taken care of,” Trey said, the pans sizzling as he added several more strips of bacon and poured the batter on the griddle. “Just sit there and I’ll finish the rest. We don’t want you passing out on us just because your blood sugar is low, got it?”

“Trey is correct,” Riddle chimed in. “Given your status as a critically endangered species, if word reaches the research institutions, they may suspect the school for neglecting your health and may seek to relocate you for closer monitoring.” His stern gaze softened as he said, “We also worry about you as fellow students…and your friends. We can only do so much, so please…don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

For a moment Yuu sat there in stunned silence, seeing their friends nod in agreement. Then…they smiled, looking misty-eyed as they sniffled. “Thanks guys…that means a lot. I’ll do my best to take care of myself!”

/—----/

After that day, Yuu did their best to remember to eat, the Heartslabyul students making sure to remind or invite them over for a meal. Slowly this began to trickle into the other dorms, some of the other students inviting them to sit for a meal as well. Even Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts chipped in, either packing extra lunches or helping them clean up and reminding them to eat whenever they get preoccupied. While Yuu was still forgetful at times, they had nothing to worry about so long as their friends were by their side.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #twisted wonderland grim #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

[kthynes]

jingle balls

18+

You get very merry with Lloyd.

word count: ~890

warnings: course language. Christmas fluff! Husband for Hire AU (masterlist coming soon!)

This has not been beta’d - mistakes are my own

“This is silly.” Lloyd throws his arms in the air, appearing in nothing but a fleece Christmas onesie that barely reaches his ankles. He stands in the middle of the living room, grumpy as can be.

“It’s cute and festive. Turn around.” You do a finger roll and he obeys your order, giving you a taut 360 along with a great view of his ass. “Hmm…”

“I’m getting zero circulation to my balls, y’know that?” He cups his front and readjusts himself, kicking his legs apart as he does.

“I think there’s a front snap closure…” You sympathize in a daze while shoving handfuls of caramel corn into your mouth.

“Oh good, I can let my wang out for Cujo and anyone else to see.”

“Gross.” You finally snap into realization and Lloyd drops himself next to you on the couch, dunking his hand in the popcorn bowl.

“Why’re we doing all this, sweets?”

“It’s the holiday season. Why not do all this?” You strategically lean into him, his one arm slung on top of the couch as you angle your phone up in position. “Smile for the camera, Hany.”

He smiles. You’re elated. The selfie is candid where you’re looking up at him, mouthing the word ‘smile’ at the final click. It’s sweet, endearing enough to hold onto and Lloyd is equally reverent on it as well.

“I like this one. Send it to me.” He nudges while bringing his attention back to the TV. You smile and nod, pocketing your phone for the rest of the night.

“So this is it? This all you wanted from me?” He motions to the decorated tree, half empty mugs of hot cocoa and packs of beer. An unfinished game of Scrabble and Cujo who peacefully slumbered in front of the crackling fireplace.

“Pretty much.” Your head moves against his chest, fussing to find a comfortable spot, for him to be closer than he already is.

“You good?” Lloyd makes a face and you look up at him, piercing him with a judgey gaze.

“All my exes thought they were too good to celebrate Christmas, they weren’t about the kitschy traditions and galore.”

“And you think I’m spirited like that?”

“I think my pretend boo could just pretend for once.” You harp on sardonically. “Yeah?”

“By literal means.” Lloyd snickers as he snakes an arm around and draws you in closer, shuffling right into his next question. “So how many ex boyfriends are we talking about here?”

“Well you already know about Alistair…”

“Redhead with a temper?” He confirms and you sigh. “He’s an unforgettable dude.”

“The ones that came after him were a multitude. But I don’t wanna talk about them.” You dismiss.

“OK, just remind me whenever they’re around.” He grins from ear to ear, one that’s earnest of him and his diabolics.

“So that you can deal with them?” You gawk.

“Yeah.” He exasperates. You playfully thwart him for that. He’s smitten by the action itself, throwing his head back in deep laughter.

“They’re not my problem anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“Which one are we talking about?” He lulls and you give him a doe eyed look.

“We’re not going there.”

“Why not? I can tell you about my exes.”

“You dated a whole platoon!”

“Yeah from a sorority.” He answers as if it made the situation any better. “Now if I could go back…”

“Oh all those Ashley’s.” You croon up in his face.

“They were something alright.” He comments while looking ahead. You smelled really nice, nice enough for his hand to fall from the top of the couch to your hip, pulling you in a smidge closer.

“Couldn’t stand them.” You huff, trying to focus on the movie. “They came after me in college because you were around.”

“You know, we could’ve easily dated back then.” Lloyd considers while taking a sip of his beer. He says this in hopes that it would change the current trajectory. But it doesn’t. Sadly.

“No we couldn’t have. You worked for my father and I wasn’t allowed to see you. Literally and romantically.” During your college years, your father deployed one of his men to watch over you. Lloyd was assigned and when he was your guy, all the girls wanted him too. It was hard to make sense of the ordeal when, for the longest time, you had no idea you were being watched.

“It was weird how Tany always asked about you too.”

Tany was your old roommate. Her phrasing would be: ‘where’s gel back?’ You assumed she was talking about stationary.

“That’s cause we fucked on the rare occasion.” Lloyd harmonizes a good memory with a nasty grin on his face, telling of a time.

“In our dorm?”

“And everywhere else.” He sneakily says into the beer spout.

“Ew!”

“Look, not everyone was holding it out like you, alright?” He reminds you of a private conversation you had with your then roommate about saving yourself for marriage. He had the unsaid opportunity to hear you out but paid no mind to it till now.

“I’m not wrong for doing so.” You defend.

Lloyd’s face changes, slighting some concern but not enough to press you on about it. Instead he simply nods and points the remote towards the TV.

“We should get back to watching the movie.” He’s lighthearted and smiles. “The best part is coming up.”

You smile wobbly, reminding yourself that this, you and him, was temporary. You’re not supposed to fully confide in this man. You weren’t supposed to let go.

#lloyd hansen x fem!reader #mafia!lloyd x you #mafia!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #chris evans #series: husband for hire

[rrcenic]

dead poets society as things my friends/family have said

huge trigger warning for discussion of suicide

-

neil: fuck fuck fuck

todd: what’s wrong?

neil: my workload was too much so i switched from honors algebra 2 to regular algebra 2 and i don’t know how to tell my dad

todd: you’re still two years ahead in math though

neil: yeah but my dad gets so mad when i don’t take every academic opportunity i can

todd: dude you just got out of the psych ward. i think he’ll understand!

neil: hhhhngg

-

neil: bro i didn’t even realize i had daddy issues til i became unnaturally infatuated with my english teacher

-

cameron: greetings fellow fraternity males. i am not working for your landlord and i simply want to hang out with fellow “dudes.” on an unrelated note are any of you in possession of illegal drugs and/or alcohol?

knox: yeah check under the chair

cameron: alright “broski” i will be simply taking photos of this not for reporting reasons and for personal reasons

pitts: do you have like a fetish or something

cameron: yes um a fetish i am not working for your landlord

-

todd: oh he’s so pretty! it’s so sad that he killed himself

todd: i mean obviously because like. killing yourself is never the answer

todd: but mainly because he was so pretty!!

-

charlie: i call this poem “every day i wake up and dream of olive garden”

-

meeks: this is literally the most autistic group i’ve ever been in and i love it

neil: oh i’m neurodivergent in many ways but the ‘tisim is surprisingly not one of them

-

charlie: shakespeare sucks ass

neil: i will stab you

-

neil: i can’t hang out today, i have therapy

pitts: you? therapy? but you’re so happy!

neil: …

neil: i’ve tried to kill myself like 5 times

pitts: WHAT

neil: did. did you not know that?!?!

-

knox: hey dyou wanna watch a tv show with me

neil: what’s it about?

knox: there’s lots of pretty women

neil: …

knox: …

neil: …

knox: and pretty men

neil: i’m in

-

charlie: america is fucked. our society is literally being ripped apart by capitalism. trans people are being criminalized more every day

knox: it’s not that bad

charlie: name one good thing that has happened to the trans community in the past year. i’ll wait

knox: …

knox: well um some politicians support trans people

charlie: THATS NOT ENOUGH

-

keating: *texting to the group chat* so technically since most of you are my former students i’m not allowed to be friends with you

keating: but you all rock so my excuse is we work on creative projects as a group outside of school

keating: however i can’t just chat with you when you’re bored

*that night*

todd: hey i’m really sorry for contacting you about non creative stuff but i just had a panic attack and don’t know what to do

keating: oh that bullshit? nah man you’re fine text whenever

-

cameron: charlie just gave me this plastic spoon and ran away does anyone know what it means

gloria: lucky i wish nuwanda had given ME the spoon

cameron: WHAT DOES IT MEAN

-

neil: i know what we’re gonna do after group therapy. we’re gonna have a poetry contest. we’ll call it psych ward poetry. i’m going to beat all of you with my mad poetry skills

-

meeks: oh and pooh represents… hm, i actually can’t remember

charlie: google it

meeks: yeah but we can’t have our phones

knox: hey mr mcallister? could you use your phone to google what mental illness the winnie the pooh characters represent?

mcallister: what the actual hell are you talking about

#tw self harm #tw suicide #tw sui joke #nics stuff #dps #dead poets society #incorrect dps #incorrect dead poets society #dps incorrect quotes #dead poets society incorrect quotes #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #cameron #richard cameron #john keating