#asking for help on homework gone wrong

[roocomehome]

"Saw you there And then you looked right back And caught my stare"

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter one: a new beginning

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

you are here | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you've always hated her. you live your life free from her and caleb. a stranger helps save you from a date gone wrong.

word count: 5.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, kinda sad, a good mix of everything! mentions of death. not proofread!

author's note: hi! this is my first lads fic! it's lowkey a mess and is all over the place, but that's okay! i hope you all enjoy! <33 please feel free to comment! i love any & all feedback! <33

You never thought yourself to be a hateful person, but whenever you saw Caleb with her, your heart boiled. His smile was always the brightest with her. He always handed her the first water bottle after a run around the neighborhood. His eyes were always on her and not you during study hall. They shared giggles with one another and you were the last to know the joke as you filled out blank homework pages. Whenever she walked into a room, he jumped to her side and aided her with whatever it is she needed.

And she always needed something.

Your friendship with Caleb and the girl you deemed a she-devil blossomed from a young age, having been next-door neighbors with Josephine. You are older than her yet still a few months younger than Caleb, which meant that the two of you had to look out for her.

She was naive in many ways. She always trusts people too easily and is quick to help, not knowing that the world is cruel and is out to hurt her. It’s something you and Caleb bonded over; taking care of her was something you had in common with him alongside planes, absolutely loving apple pie, and always wanting to be the last one tagged during recess.

However, those childhood days have long passed and you’ve settled into a draining routine where you played a background character in someone else’s life.

When you and Caleb reached freshman year of high school, you were sure that he was going to ask you to be his date to the homecoming dance. Instead, you were surprised with the revelation that he was going to stay home and have a movie night with her since she wasn’t in high school yet.

Despite his compliments about your dress, he snuck back inside his house when you asked him if he needed a ride to the dance. She was waving him back inside in the background and he couldn’t have been happier to watch My Little Pony or whatever bullshit she had lined up.

You basked in his frequent compliments when he met you outside your home, when she wasn’t around. Caleb always knew what to say when you had a saddened frown on your face.

“Did James turn you down? I thought he liked you! You’re a catch!” Caleb’s warm words reached your ears and made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. At least he knew then that you were worthwhile. If only he wasn’t so blind to what you had to offer to him.

At least you had a year of high school alone with him. You two even shared a few classes together and had planned study nights to prepare for final exams! Huddled at the desk in his room, you could smell the sweet apple scent of his shampoo and were able to hear through raspiness of his chuckle right next to your ear.

It was fun until she came inside his room, claiming that she wanted to help you two study. That plan lasted for about ten minutes before she whined and complained that she wanted to watch her and Caleb’s favorite show. That night ended up with her snuggled into his side while he stroked her hair. You held the chip bowl, not by choice, and watched as your crush on the boy next door began to deteriorate.

When she finally joined your and Caleb’s high school, you bit your tongue and held back the deplorable comments that shuffled through your mind about his so called beloved. You even held back comments to your new friends about his relationship with her. You knew that if you ever said anything bad about her, he’d come to her defense and shun you for what you’ve said.

It never mattered how you felt. It didn’t matter if you were having a bad day or had just embarrassed yourself in front of your entire gym class when Becky threw a ball right at your face. His attention will forever be owned by her. You’ll never get to know how it feels to always be under his cautious gaze nor will you ever be a recipient of his charming smile.

Truth is, you used to be friends with them. The perpetual third wheel to all of their escapades and adventures. You used to be close to them but as time moved on, they grew closer together and you, well, just didn’t fit into their equation anymore. The funny thing is that they have no clue of their wrongdoing towards you nor did they realize that you had left their group entirely after months of sitting in your room, filled with nothing but discontent as you scrolled through their posted selfies together.

You thought you set yourself free from them. It’s better to watch from afar instead of up close, no? It spares you more heartbreak and it, very selfishly, keeps you away from her.

You can stay away from her smiles. Her laughter. The way her dark hair falls into the perfect messy bun while yours just looks plain erratic. Not to mention the way her hands always lingered on him while you watched, helpless from the other side of the lunch table.

And you can finally break free from that stupid nickname he has for her.

“Hey!” You hear a friend’s voice from over your shoulder. You turn and smile at them, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are you ready for the game against the Rams tonight? I heard you’re starting!”

Before you can reply, you hear a thud behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice that Caleb leans against the metal lockers. His arms are crossed over his chest and he wears that stupidly charming  grin on his face.

“You have a game tonight? Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks. Her smile falters.

Us. That damned word.

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug, placing your leftover books inside the locker. “You two are usually busy anyways doing…whatever…so it wouldn’t have mattered if you knew or not.”

Okay, maybe there is some venom in your tone and malice in the way you throw your books into your locker. To be fair, you’re so fed up with them ghosting you and never showing up to your games that you can’t help but let some of your anger out.

“Woah!” Caleb pushes off the locker and holds his hands in the air. You roll your eyes and slam the locker shut, walking away. He quickly follows and matches your hellish pace. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so distant lately. Me and—”

“Don’t,” you bark. The two of you pause in the middle of the hallway, your eyes locked on his in a heated glare. “How long do you think it’s been since I’ve hung out with you two?”

A look of confusion flashes across his face. You have to stop yourself from looking at the way his face scrunches up, the way his tongue pokes about between his lips while he thinks.

“Hm…like a month?” Caleb’s words are genuine, you know that, but it shatters your heart to know that he doesn’t even realize it’s almost been a year since you two hung out, let alone were in a room together.

“A month?!” You scoff and look away. A laugh filled with disdain and shock escapes your lips. Your hands drop to your side, tightly balled into fists, as anger washes throughout your body. “Caleb, be real with me right now. Do you truly think it’s been a month?”

You want to give him a chance to redeem himself, for him to own up to the mistake he’s made. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

“I do, yes…” he wearily says. Your nostrils flare, cheeks heating with irritation.

“Hey guys!” Her cheerful tone scratches the inside of your brain. You sharply inhale and close your eyes just to open them to the side of her attaching herself to his side. “Are you okay? You look angry,” she remarks and gently places her hand on your shoulder. You immediately slap it away. The tips of your fingers tingle from the smack.

“Hey! What was that for?” Caleb steps in front of her, pushing the teen girl behind him.

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing up at Caleb, who guards her from you.

“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” You snap, pushing past them, your shoulder bumping into Caleb’s bicep. 

“Wait!” Caleb’s voice rings in your ears. A flash of hope makes your heart flutter.

Is he going to chase after you? Will he finally ditch her and see how you’re feeling for a change? Will the old Caleb come back, the one that actually cared about you and your feelings?

Your feet hesitate, pace drastically slowly, still in earshot of the other two’s conversation. You can hear his footsteps coming after you, going from slow to quick, but they suddenly stop.

“She isn’t worth it, Caleb,” her voice shoots any semblance of hope you felt, ripping your heart into shreds. “She’s so mean…she doesn’t deserve your care.”

The hallway in front of you turns glossy. You use the back of your hand to wipe away the tears that brew in your eyes. Your once reluctant pace hastens and you disappear down the hallway, becoming just another face in the crowd.

The year passed and you graduated with a new group of friends; friends that welcomed and invited you with open arms. Your camera roll was no longer sad, filled with empty selfies with her and Caleb not paying attention in the background, shifting to group photos and friends completing the other side of your hand heart. It filled your heart with the joy and happiness that your previous friendships lacked.

And most importantly of all: you were completely over Caleb and didn’t have to spend any more time around her. It’s a relief for you, really, and you’re able to go to the college of your dreams and pursue the career you wanted. 

The saddened memories no longer pained you. They no longer dug into your skin. Instead, you planted them into the soil of your mind, using the special fertilizer (the special ingredient being resent), and grew from them.

So what if they wronged you? You were now free and didn’t owe either of them a damn thing! That is, until Caleb died.

The news nearly broke you. Your mother informed you of the news when you came home for a visit. You were on a much needed break from work and were looking for a chance to relax. Your time of relaxation was quickly turned inside out.

You became a shell of yourself, the last memory of Caleb haunting your mind as you holed up in bed, covers covering the entirety of your body with a small hole for clean and cool breathing air. Your cheeks became perpetually stained with tears, becoming sticky in your sleep before the cycle started all over again.

The day of his funeral was unnecessarily rough. Your mother had to drag you out of bed and help you into the shower, the hot water turning cold from the amount of time you stood there. Once you stepped out, body trembling from the cold air, you stared at the black dress that was laid out across your bed.

It was simple. It stopped mid-thigh and the sleeves ran long down your arms. You paired it nicely with tights from high school, a pair that Caleb complimented you on, and a pair of simple booties.

She was the center of attention, of course, there was no doubt about that. The ache in your chest left you feeling conflicted. She sat alone, head hung low, as people walked by, chuckling as if they weren’t at a funeral reception.

You almost felt bad for her and the way her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She clung to a piece of metal in her hand, occasionally bringing it up to her lips to kiss it.

The distance between the two of you felt like a game of cat and mouse. She took one step forward, you took one back. She entered the hallway you found recluse in, you made sure that there was room in the closet for you to hide in.

You thought that you were able to slip out unnoticed until she called out your name.

“Hi…” your voice falls off. Her fists are balled at her sides, knuckles white.

“What are you doing here?” Her words are sharp, effortlessly slicing into you. “I thought you hated him.”

“I could never hate him…” the words barely come out, just above a meek whisper. She doesn’t say anything else. All she does is stare at you with her heartbroken expression, eyes strained and red from the sobs she let out earlier.

A part of your heart broke for her. The other part remained emotionless, knowing how she tormented you in your younger years by dangling Caleb in front of your face. It tormented you to know that you could still hold a sliver of resentment in your heart for something that happened so long ago. You quietly left, leaving her alone in the hallway, disappearing behind a familiar turn.

A year passes. The hatred you held in your heart has dissipated. You’ve watered the flowers you planted in your mind and the petals read off messages of forgiveness and second chances, even though you made sure to never run into her ever again.

Some people can forgive and forget, but you’ll be sure to forgive and keep a distance.

Skyhaven isn’t too bad of a home. Sure, there’s barely any trace of organic life throughout the city, except for the token tree the mayor decided to add about two months ago, but it’s a nice place to live. You’ve made yourself comfortable. The nightlife is great and the rain is even better. You even made some friends at your job and have gone out on a date or two with a guy who is very attentive.

But none of them are Caleb.

You stare at yourself in the cafe mirror, shaking your head. You fix your disheveled hair, wondering how you managed to spend the last ten minutes digging up the past when you’re on a date with a very cute guy. You bite your lip and tweak the last details of your outfit, flattening out a wrinkle in your skirt.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you glide down the hallway, smiling at the other customers who pass by. You can finally go back to…what’s his name again?

Jared? Clyde? Marc, who always emphasizes that there’s a ‘C’ at the end of his name instead of a ‘K’?

You clap your hands together when the name comes back to you. He jumps in his seat, his eyes closing in on you when you sit down. His smile is a little too goofy, missing out on any kind of charm that he can capitalize on, and you can’t help but watch out of the lower half of your vision as he itches his crotch.

“Thanks for waiting for me, George,” a warm smile spreads across your lips. He matches it and leans forward, pushing a colorful mug in your direction. You watch it closely before drawing it closer to you. You don’t take a sip, though, instead letting the whipped cream on top of the coffee melt. You sigh.

You don’t even liked whipped cream on your coffee. You know who would have remembered that?

“It was no problem at all!” George proudly proclaims. His chair scraps across the wooden floor. He inches closer and closer towards you in an attempt to close the distance but you scoot away from him, keeping a pleased smile on your face.

“So, what were you saying you do for a job?” Your question goes straight to his head. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you refrain from interrupting him about his long ramble about how he works as a “video game consultant” at a local game store.

The conversation is so painful to sit through. You glance between his beady gaze and the clock on the wall behind him. The ticking hands somehow move slower when he dives into his day to day routine. Maybe the whipped cream isn’t as bad as you previously thought.

An hour goes by and you have barely been able to get a word in. Mugs form into a half-circle in front of you. Your leg bounces up and down, hands jittery. Even your blinking is rapid as you solely stare at the clock.

“That’s enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” George grabs his glass. He ordered a cream soda at the beginning of the date but the cream separated from the colorful soda water, forming into chunky clouds.

“You know what,” you breathe out in a laugh, signaling over your shoulder to the door, “it’s getting late. I have an early start tomorrow so I should get going.” You stand from the chair and snatch your tiny purse from the seat beside you.

The cafe is practically empty now and the sun has set hours ago. You rush towards the exit, the route to the door feeling like it never ends as Greg — oh shit, George! — chases after you. 

The Skyhaven night is nice and crisp. The rain isn’t as hard tonight, just a mere sprinkle, and you rush out into the open, taking a deep breath. The chilled air fills your burning lungs and you’re able to breathe again, that is, until George grabs your hand. You gasp and snatch it back from him.

The raindrops lightly kiss your face but George’s sickening smile makes you want to hurl. He creeps towards you, the moon shining just bright enough for you to see the darkness form in his eyes.

“I have to get home, George!” You nervously chuckle, turning away. You rush towards the nearest bus stop, knowing that there will be other people there to take refuge with. George doesn’t let up though and his movements become more primal and animalistic as the seconds tick by.

“Come on, sweetheart,” George beckons from behind. You can hear his ragged breath from behind you grow close. You brace your body for impact…but nothing comes. Instead, you hear a struggle from behind. You swirl on your heels and stare at the scene behind you.

A tall man pushes George away from you. The moonlight reflects off of the shine of his coat, the top of his hat deflecting the light raindrops. You stagger backward, heart racing inside your chest, as George crumbles to the ground, a blur of red, grey, and blue pushing down on the man.

“She said she’s going home,” the voice growls. It itches the back of your mind, calling to you like a faint memory. “Leave. Or I’ll crush you right here and now.”

The voice beckons to you from the back of your mind, putting it at ease. The voice calls out your name followed by a throaty chuckle. It asks you how you’re doing, if you need help with that week’s math homework. You can also hear his voice apologize to you for forgetting about your plans to go to the movies with your group of friends, making some excuse that she got locked in the attic and needed rescuing.

The moonlight turns dark, the floating rock covered by a cloud, as the figure slowly approaches you. The once soft droplets of rain evolve into hardened projectiles, the wind picking up from all around you. With the weather matching your quickly escalating mood, you march through the rain, the phantom chasing after you.

“Hey! You’re getting soaked!” His voice calls from behind. You pay no attention to it.

The voice sounds exactly like a dead man! A person who is resting in peace six feet under and couldn’t possibly be here in Skyhaven.

You reach the bus stop and hide under the small covering, the rain pounding against the top, rolling off the sides. You hold your arms to yourself and your teeth clatter on the inside of your mouth. You have to tell yourself to not look at the man beside you.

Stranger danger, after all.

“Why are you ignoring me?” The man asks. It’s just the two of you at the bus stop. The stop’s light flickers, adding to the already ominous feeling that forms deep inside your chest. You hug your arms to your body, providing the only warmth in this cold night. “Oh, I get it. You’re mad at me.”

“I don’t even know who you are!” You retort rather quickly, finally looking up at the man.

You gasp and stumble backward. He quickly reaches for you, his large, warm hands gripping your waist, stabilizing you.

He looks down at you with an irresistible and charming smile. His purple eyes seem to glow under the dim lighting. He wears a black and orange rain jacket, black baseball cap sitting on his head. He cocks his head to the side, gaze drifting to memorize your face.

Nausea sweeps over your body. You tear your gaze off of the phantom before you. The cold air pricks the inside of your lungs, rapidly moving in and out of your system.

This can’t be real, right? He cannot possibly be standing in front of you, alive and well, with that damn smile on his face. A single tear rolls down your cheek, your lips parted. Your breath flows out of your mouth in gentle plumes of steam.

“Caleb?” Your voice falters. He chuckles, smoothing down your frizzy hair.

“The one and only! C’mon, you can say it: you missed me!”

You reach out, grabbing his arms, squeezing him. His brows furrow, eyes training themselves on your hands as you poke and prod various parts of his body. You grab his cheeks, pulling on them before squishing his face. He gently takes your hands into his, moving your hands away from his face.

“You done yet?”

“You’re alive!”

“I am well aware of that, yes.” His laugh fills your ears and your heart swells.

Even after all these years of forgetting Caleb, you still end up swooning for him the moment he saves you from Landon.

Or was it David? Eh. It doesn’t really matter.

“How…what…” you stammer, unable to form a cohesive and coherent sentence. Caleb sighs and takes your hand. He flattens your palm against his chest.

How heartbeat is slow and steady…it’s there. You gasp, bottom lip trembling, legs slowly becoming jelly.

Tears freely flow down your face as the realization of his existence sets in.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s breathing.

His last memory of you isn’t you ending your friendship and avoiding him for the rest of your senior year of high school.

You collapse to your knees, hand digging into your chest. A sharp pain slices into your chest as your fingernails dig into your skin in an attempt to grab your heart and to scream at it to calm down. The pounds from your heart makes your ears ring, drowning out the endless pitter patter of rain. Even your lungs feel as if they are on fire, unable to suck in and inhale the oxygen that you need to survive.

Your eyes open and Caleb’s face is right in front of yours. You can hear him speak but cannot make out a single word that he says. He gently helps you back to your feet.

“Take it easy,” his words seep through the sound of your heartbeat, “breathe.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck, warming your body, and his thumb gently grazes the side of your neck. You inhale through your nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling until all of the air is out of your lungs.

“Does she know?” the question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it.

How could you even ask that at a time like this? You should be seeing if he’s okay! If he’s in any sort of trouble that you can help get him out of.

Did he fake his death? Has he been alive this whole time? When was he going to come see you?

Caleb sharply inhales through gritted teeth, pulling away from your face. You watch him closely, bottom lip trembling.

You know. You know the answer.

Of course she knew before you! She is his beloved, the one person he will spend the rest of his life with. It’s laughable to even think that you stood a chance against her.

“Actually,” you interrupt him, covering his mouth, “don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know.” Even though every fiber of your being screamed blood murder at you to figure it out.

Is he dating her? Has he ditched her for good? HAs Caleb finally come to the realization that she isn’t some angel that came down from the heavens.

His purple eyes blink at you, perplexed by your actions. Caleb speaks into your hand but his voice is a mere muffle. You sigh and look out at the pouring rain.

You need to get home.

You need to get home and get away from him.

You need to relieve yourself of any memory, item, or scent that can remind you of him because, well, he clearly isn’t yours to have.

If you stay any longer, you’re going to end up crying in the rain, unloading all of your emotions onto him. And Caleb, who has risen from dead, doesn’t deserve to hear any of it. He’s innocent in all of this and no matter how angry and resentful you can feel towards him, you’ll never be able to hold it against him.

“Get home safe, Caleb,” you breathe the words out, slowly releasing your hand from his mouth.

You push away from him and bare the thundering rain on your own, hugging your jacket to your body. You sprint across the street, desperately needing to get away from him.

Caleb watches you with wide eyes, captivated by the woman you’ve become.

You’ve lost all the baby fat in your cheeks. Your hair is longer and is styled to perfection.

You’re bolder. Funnier, even, whether it’s intentional or not. Caleb laughed at your jokes in the cafe, particularly the ones that George didn’t find funny.

Whatever. He’s an idiot.

He heard your laugh from inside the cafe and got drunk off of it. He found himself smiling wider than he has before in the past year.

You took his mind off of his stressful job, which he just came back from, and relaxed his body. He didn’t think about how ling he stayed in that damned tunnel nor did he think about his connections with Ever.

Your laugh turned off the fight or flight switch that perpetually stayed on inside his head. It did pain him, though, to know that you were out with other guys. This George fellow is not your match. He’s a Sul-indulgent prick who only talks about himself.

And what the fuck is a video game consultant anyways?

His job is nothing compared to being a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. You’ll surely be impressed with that.

You did always say you loved a man in a uniform.

His purple eyes flicker with excitement. He steps out into the rain and follows in your exact footsteps. Once he’s across the street, he turns around and stares at the cafe you two once sat in.

She walks out with her friends, umbrellas covering their heads. They smile and laugh with one another, teasing as thunder booms in the background. He chuckles at their umbrellas but his smile quickly fades when he realizes that you didn’t have one.

Silly girl. Now he has to check in on you and make for sure that you don’t catch a cold.

His gaze drifts to her but the spark he once felt isn’t there anymore. She’s…boring now. Caleb tilts his head back and laughs.

How could he have been so blind?

His focus has been on her all along but you…you are something else.

Captivating. Intoxicating. Enchanting. Hilarious. Fascinating.

Your fruity perfume formed a tent in his pants. Have you always smelled like apples and cinnamon? You encapsulate an autumn evening. Suddenly, he loves it when the leaves change colors and fall from the trees. He’ll never let you fall ever again.

Caleb doesn’t know how he let you slip through his fingers so many times. You live in Skyhaven, too, right under his nose. He should have found you sooner.

He should have gone with you to the homecoming dance. He regrets not watching you during the countless games you’ve invited him to. He should have closed the door in her face when she petered you two when you needed to study for the math exam. It was never your best subject. Lucky, he excelled in it.

And he should have fucking gone after you when you told him to fuck off all those years ago.

But now?

Now Caleb’s going to take back the time he missed out on. Surely, you’d feel the same way when he comes back? After all, he does know where you live now.

Six floors up. The fourth room from the left. You have a stained glass butterfly hanging in your window. He’ll see it up close soon enough.

He stands outside your apartment building with a bright smile on his face, staring up at your bedroom. He can see you move throughout the living room, your shadow painted against the far wall. His eyes follow as you slip into your bedroom. You look out the window.

What are you looking at? I’m here. Show me anything. Give me the signal I need to come and save you.

You turn on a lamp. The light points up to the butterfly, illuminating the blue and orange colors from the glass.

You’re so thoughtful.

How did you know those are his favorite colors?

Caleb chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His feet carry him to the entrance of your apartment building, just barely sneaking in as a couple leaves. He thanks them and sneaks to an elevator, stepping inside as he presses the button to your floor.

Thank you for the signal, he thinks to himself, I’ll be there soon.

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[woniedarlin]

XO,I'm Yours

pairing: Jungwon x fem! Reader

genre: XO, Kitty au

synopsis: Having a massive crush on Jungwon is tough. Every time he’s around, your brain malfunctions, and instead of acting normal, you… avoid him. He’s calm, chill, and entirely out of your league (at least, that’s what you tell yourself). Enter Kitty, the matchmaker, determined to make things happen. With her “help,” you find yourself in the most awkward yet heart-racing moments with Jungwon.

The worst part? Jungwon is noticing you now. And it’s making everything so much more complicated. But maybe… Kitty’s plan wasn’t so bad after all.

author's note: This was requested by @firstclassjaylee . Thank you for this idea!!! Please let me know the pronouns for the og XO Kitty characters! I wasn’t sure, so if I got them wrong, I’d happily change them immediately. Apologies in advance for not being able to mention all the characters. Happy reading!

caution: This fic contains extreme secondhand embarrassment and an excessive amount of Jungwon-induced butterflies. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

The plan was simple. Avoid Jungwon at all costs.

It wasn’t that he was mean. That was the problem. Jungwon was nice. The kind of nice that made your stomach do flips and made you feel like an idiot for getting so flustered over someone just existing. So, instead of embarrassing yourself, you settled for admiring him from afar. No eye contact. No unnecessary conversations. Easy.

At least, it was easy...until Kitty found out.

“You have a massive crush on him,” Kitty said one afternoon with her arms crossed.

“No, I don’t.” You knew lying was pointless, but still, you had to try.

Kitty gave you a look. “You walked into a door last week because he was standing near it.”

Your face burned. “That was an accident.”

“Sure,” she said unimpressed. “Look, lucky for you, I happen to be amazing at matchmaking. And I happen to have a plan.”

You blinked. “A plan?”

“Step one: Stop avoiding him.”

You immediately shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

“Too bad because I already started.”

Your stomach dropped. “Kitty. What did you do?”

She just grinned. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, your quiet little crush? It was about to become very complicated.

💌

You should have known Kitty wouldn’t waste any time. The very next day, you find yourself in an unavoidable situation.

It started in the Library. You had just settled in your usual corner, buried in a book, when Kitty slid into the seat across from you.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “Just act natural.”

That’s when you saw him.

Jungwon.

He was scanning the shelves a few feet away, oblivious to how your entire body tensed at seeing him. Your brain screamed at you to run, but before you could, Kitty leaned in and whispered, “I told him you needed help with your econ homework.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “You did what?”

And right on cue, Jungwon turned, eyes landing on you.

“Hey,” he said as he was walking over.

Kitty beamed. “Perfect timing! She was saying how she’s completely lost in econ.”

You snapped your head toward her. Liar. You were literally top of the class.

Jungwon pulled out the chair beside you and sat down without hesitation. “I can help.”

You swallowed. Oh no.

Kitty’s grin was way too smug. “Great! I’ll leave you two to it.” Then, before you could protest, she was gone.

Leaving you. Alone. With Jungwon.

You looked down at your phone, noticing a message from Kitty

“You’re welcome ;)’’

💌

You tried to focus on Jungwon's explanation for the first few minutes. Really, you did.

But how were you supposed to concentrate when he was sitting this close?

He leaned over the table, pointing at your textbook, his voice steady as he explained some economic theory. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but in reality, your brain was short-circuiting.

“Does that make sense?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Your face heated. “I was! Kind of. Maybe.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re bad at lying.”

You groaned, then covered your face. “This is embarrassing.”

“Why?” He tilted his head. “It’s just me.”

Exactly.

It was just him. Just Jungwon, who you had spent months avoiding because he made you feel like a walking disaster. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed amused.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you blurted out.

He smirked. “So you’ve just been avoiding me for fun?”

You clamped your mouth shut.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, watching you with a knowing look. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” His smirk deepened. “You’re interesting.”

Your stomach did a backflip.

Oh, you were so doomed.

Later that night, Kitty found you in your dorm room, looking too pleased with herself.

“So?” she asked, flopping onto your bed. “How did it go?”

You groaned. “I made a fool of myself.”

Kitty laughed. “Define ‘fool.’”

“I blanked out. He caught me staring. I admitted to avoiding him. And he called me interesting.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. He called you interesting?”

You nodded miserably.

Kitty squealed. “That’s huge!”

You frowned. “How is that huge?”

“Because Jungwon doesn’t just call people interesting, my dear hopeless friend. You caught his attention.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think?”

“I know.” Kitty grinned. “And trust me, this is only the beginning.”

You groaned again, flopping face-first onto your pillow.

Kitty just laughed.

After all, the matchmaking had only just begun.

💌

“Okay,” Kitty clapped her hands, grinning as she stared at you. “Today’s the day we level you up.”

You blinked and were confused. “Level me up?”

“Yes! You like Jungwon, but you get all shy and awkward around him,” she pointed out. “So, if you want him to notice you, we must work on your confidence.”

You groaned, already feeling embarrassed. “Kitty, this is so unnecessary.”

Kitty ignored you and stepped forward. “First lesson: Posture! Stand straight, shoulders back. Confidence comes from the way you carry yourself.”

You hesitated before adjusting yourself, trying to mimic the way she stood. “Like this?”

Kitty nodded. “Good. Now, when you see Jungwon, don’t look away all nervous. Hold eye contact. Make him feel like he’s the only person in the room.”

You gulped. “The only person in the room? Kitty, I can’t even look at him for three seconds without feeling like I’m about to pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why we’re practicing! Here, pretend I’m Jungwon.”

You stared at her. “Kitty, this is weird.”

“Do it!” she urged.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly raised your head, looking her in the eyes. You managed to hold it for two seconds before covering your face. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

Kitty groaned dramatically. “Okay, let’s try something else. Flirting! Sometimes, a little playful teasing can go a long way.”

You hesitated. “Like… what kind of teasing?”

Kitty smirked. “Try complimenting him, but make it sound casual. Like, ‘Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.’”

You cringed. “That doesn’t sound casual at all.”

“It’s all about the tone!” Kitty explained. “Say it naturally, like you’re just making an observation.”

You sighed and cleared your throat, trying to sound confident. “Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.”

Kitty immediately burst into laughter. “Why do you sound like a robot?”

You groaned and covered your face again. “I told you I’m bad at this!”

She patted your shoulder. “Okay, okay. Let’s try something easier…Oh! What about smiling? When you see him, could you give him a little smile? Not too big, not too small. Just a hint of a smile.”

You nodded and tried it. Kitty examined you for a second before shaking her head. “No. That looks scary.”

“Kitty!!”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just—oh wait, Jungwon’s coming!” Kitty suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

Your eyes widened in pure panic. “WHAT?!”

“Relax! Just do what we practiced!” she whispered urgently.

Jungwon walked past, glancing at the two of you. You froze utterly, your mind going blank. Then, at the last second, you remembered Kitty’s advice. You quickly straightened your posture and gave him a small smile… except you accidentally bared your teeth like an awkward grimace instead of a confident smile.

Jungwon slowed down slightly, his brows furrowing. “Uh… are you okay?”

‘’Pfft’’ Kitty covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

You, wholly mortified, quickly turned away. “Yes! Totally fine! Just… stretching my face!”

Jungwon blinked, clearly confused, before nodding slowly and walking off.

The moment he was out of sight, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kitty, I hate this.”

Kitty finally burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t your best moment, but hey! At least you tried!”

“I just embarrassed myself,” you muttered.

Kitty grinned. “Relax. Slow and steady wins the race. You’ll get there.”

You sighed, not entirely convinced, but Kitty’s encouragement made you feel slightly better. Maybe with time—and much more practice—you’d finally get the confidence you needed.

…Hopefully, before you died of embarrassment first.

💌

After your absolute disaster of a confidence practice session with Kitty, you decided there was only one solution.

Avoid Jungwon.

At all costs.

Your already massive crush on him had now turned into full-blown mortification. Every time you so much as thought about how you awkwardly bared your teeth at him, you wanted to disappear into the earth. So, naturally, when you spotted Jungwon walking down the hallway, you did what any logical person would do.

You grabbed the nearest person and used them as a human shield.

“Minho,” you hissed, ducking behind his tall frame.

Minho barely flinched while sipping on his collagen water. “Oi, what’s this then?” he drawled,

You gripped his shoulders. “I need to hide.”

Minho sighed, already used to your antics. “Lemme guess—Jungwon?”

You nodded frantically.

Minho shook his head but didn’t move. “You know, mate, you can’t keep running forever.”

“Yes, I can,” you whispered.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

“Minho,” Jungwon’s voice suddenly called out, catching your breath.

You peeked over Minho’s shoulder just in time to see Jungwon stopping before him, looking too good for your heart to handle.

Minho, unfazed, nodded in greeting. “Aye, mate. What’s up?”

Jungwon started talking to Minho about something you were too distracted to process. Because while he was addressing Minho, his eyes kept peeking over Minho’s shoulder—straight at you.

You immediately shrank further behind Minho.

Jungwon’s lips twitched slightly. “Hey,” he said, this time directed at you.

Your brain is short-circuited. Oh no. He’s talking to me. Abort mission. Abort mission.

Minho, ever the instigator, casually stepped to the side, exposing you completely.

You had no choice but to face Jungwon. “H-Hi,” you managed weakly.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly. “Are you hiding from me?”

“What? No! Pfft, that’s crazy,” you blurted out and laughed nervously.

Minho smirked and sipped his collagen water. “Yeah, mate, totally crazy.”

You kicked the back of Minho’s shoe.

Jungwon didn’t look entirely convinced but let it slide. “Alright,” he said before flicking his gaze back to Minho.

You thought you were in the clear—until you noticed that Jungwon kept glancing at you even as he continued his conversation with Minho. Every few seconds, his eyes would shift back to you.

It was subtle, but it was enough to make your stomach flip.

Then, as Minho made some joke in his relaxed drawl, Jungwon suddenly interrupted, his eyes locking on yours. “You don’t have to hide, you know,” he said softly.

Your heart stopped.

After thoroughly enjoying the situation, Minho took a long sip of his drink. “Oi, look at that, would ya? Some real tension here.”

You kicked him again.

Jungwon only smiled slightly before looking away as if he hadn’t just destroyed your ability to function.

And just like that, your plan to avoid him had backfired entirely.

You were so doomed.

💌

The sound of typing and the flick of pages turning was the soundtrack of your days lately. You had been buried in textbooks for what felt like forever. The stress had accumulated, leaving you exhausted. Your face was pale, and dark bags were under your eyes from the sleepless nights, but you couldn’t stop. You had to push through. A vast project was coming up, and you couldn’t afford to fail.

You propped your head up with one hand, barely able to keep your eyes open as you glanced over your notes. The words blurred, your mind already foggy from overworking. Before you knew it, your head dropped onto the table with a soft thud.

“Ugh…,” you mumbled as you fought to stay awake.

The door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of footsteps entering. Kitty’s voice followed soon after. “Hey, are you still at it?”

Jungwon’s calm tone responded, “She’s been studying for hours now. I don’t think she’s taking breaks.”

You groaned, too tired to even lift your head. The sounds of them approaching grew closer until you felt the soft pressure of someone standing beside you. You sighed and tried to sit up, but the weight of your exhaustion made it hard.

As you lifted your head, you saw Kitty’s shocked expression first. She gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! You look like you haven’t slept in days! Your face… it’s—”

You blinked slowly, too tired to defend yourself. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, attempting to give a smile, but it came out weak and crooked.

Kitty’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to take a break. Look at those bags under your eyes. Are you even eating right?”

Before you could reply, you heard Jungwon’s voice. “There’s nothing wrong with your face,” he said unbothered. He bent down to your level. “You’re still pretty, even with all that stress.”

The compliment caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but blush despite how exhausted you were. “W-well, thank you…” you stammered, a little embarrassed.

Kitty rolled her eyes playfully. “See, Jungwon knows what to say! But seriously, you need to rest.” She crossed her arms, and her frown replaced her concern. “This is way too much. You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate.”

Jungwon nodded slightly. “Kitty’s right. You won’t get far if you can’t even stay awake.”

You sighed, both too tired and too embarrassed to argue. “I… I need to finish this.”

Kitty leaned closer and whispered as if sharing a secret, “How about I help you get this done faster? You can relax, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You blinked slowly, still too drained to think straight. “Are you sure?”

She smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You need to close your eyes for a bit.”

Jungwon shot you a small and reassuring smile. “Take a break, okay? You don’t want to make yourself sick over this.”

You hesitated momentarily before nodding, grateful for their support even if you still felt guilty. You slid down in your chair, resting your head against the backrest and briefly closing your eyes.

Kitty moved to your side, pulling out her phone to check her messages. Jungwon stayed silent nearby, giving you an almost protective glance as you rested.

“Good. Now, take a nap. No more studying for the rest of the day,” Kitty said with a smile as she gave you the space to rest.

You breathed a sigh of relief and closed your eyes, hoping the rest would help ease the weight of the world you’d been carrying.

💌

You sat quietly on a chair, Minho beside you, applying your skincare. He had been your skincare mentor for a while, helping you with all the little tricks you needed. “Alright, make sure you really press it in,” Minho said, gently patting the moisturizer into your skin.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever do it as well as you,” you murmured. “But thanks for teaching me.”

Minho smiled. “Of course. You’re a fast learner,” he said, dabbing the cream across your cheek. “Maybe you should start your skincare vlog or something.”

You chuckled softly, “I’d probably mess it up on camera.”

Minho shook his head and let out a grin. “You’d be perfect. Trust me.”

You both laughed; the room felt safe. There was no pressure, no expectations, just good company. Then the door creaked open, and you looked up. Jungwon stepped in, looking casual, but something about his presence made the atmosphere feel different…tense, almost.

Minho waved at him, still oblivious to the sudden shift. “Hey, Jungwon! Just helping out with her skincare. You should join us.”

You froze for a moment, catching Jungwon’s eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly looked away, too shy to hold his eyes for long.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in an almost a frown. “I’m good,” he said; his eyes were focused on you and Minho, how you both were laughing and talking comfortably.

Minho, clearly unaware of the undercurrent between the three of you, laughed again. “You sure? I think I’m pretty much a skincare pro now.” He gently patted your cheek again, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

You noticed Jungwon kept looking at your face, then back to Minho’s hand. There was a slight tension in his posture now. His arms were still crossed, and his eyes had narrowed just a little. “I think she’s got it covered,” Jungwon’s voice a little colder. “You’re always helping her with something.”

You looked down, trying to avoid his gaze as his words were uncomfortably in the air. Your heart beat faster than usual, and you were too shy to respond. Why was it that whenever Jungwon was around, you lost all ability to act normal?

Minho didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “What can I say? I’m just a helpful guy,” he replied with a wink.

Jungwon’s eyes flickered between the two of you. He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. “Well, maybe she doesn’t need that much help,” he said, a little irritated. His tone wasn’t even harsh.

You flinched slightly, but you didn’t say anything. You just sat there, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Minho noticed the shift. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop making her feel like a project,” he teased, though it was clear he was a little confused by Jungwon’s sudden change in attitude. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

You bit your lip, feeling the awkward silence settle over the room. Jungwon didn’t respond immediately; they just looked at you for a beat longer than necessary. Then he exhaled and glanced at the door. “You should probably get some rest,” Jungwon said softer now. “It’s late.”

You nodded quickly. Unsure of what to say. “Right, I’ll—uh, I’ll head to bed.”

Minho, still oblivious, smiled. “Get some sleep. We’ll finish up tomorrow.”

You nodded again, glancing briefly at Jungwon as you left. Jungwon’s voice stopped you before you could walk out. “You’re… you’re fine, right?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated. “I’m fine,” you replied quietly while avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, then gave you an unreadable smile. “Okay,” he said before turning back to Minho.

You walked out of the room quickly,

Was that… jealousy?

That’s impossible.

💌

“You have to wear this,” Kitty declared, holding up a dress that made your stomach tense.

“Kitty, no.”

“Kitty, yes.”

You glared at her through the mirror, but she just grinned as she shoved the outfit into your hands. “Trust me,” she said. “Jungwon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You swallowed hard at the thought. Jungwon. Seeing you. In this.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dressed up before, but this outfit felt… different. More intentional. It's more like you were trying to get his attention.

Which, okay, you were, but still—

Kitty snapped her fingers in front of your face. “No overthinking! Just wear it. Come on, it’s a party! You’re supposed to look hot.”

You groaned but ultimately let her win (not that you ever had a choice).

By the time you were ready, you were nervous to the point that you needed to go to the restroom for a second. Your reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. Kitty had curled your hair and given you subtle but effective makeup; the outfit made you feel… good.

“You look amazing,” Kitty whispered and squeezed your shoulders. “Now go show Jungwon what he’s missing.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. You felt a little bit braver as you followed her out.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. You weren’t even inside for a full minute before you felt the weight of someone’s eyes on you.

And when you turned—

There he was.

Jungwon.

Standing across the room, eyes locked on you with a similar unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was how his eyes slowly traveled over you before he looked away.

Kitty, standing beside you, definitely noticed.

“Oh,” she whispered and nudged you with her elbow. “He so noticed.”

You felt your face heat up.

Jungwon, however, had turned away, disappearing into the crowd before you could react.

The party was energetic, but you barely registered anything. Kitty had practically forced you into this dress, hyping you up, fixing your hair, and making you promise you wouldn’t shrink away if Jungwon talked to you.

But here he was—talking to you—and you were about two seconds from running.

“You look different.”

You looked up at him with your fingers gripping your cup tighter.

“What?”

His gaze was enough to make you feel self-conscious.

“You don’t usually dress like this,” he said.

You swallowed. “Oh. Yeah. Kitty—”

“Makes sense.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Jungwon took a sip of his drink and then met your gaze again.

“It means you look pretty.”

If that makes sense, your brain wholly short-circuited, and you felt like your stomach was twisting again.

You needed to escape.

But the second you tried to move, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t run away,” Jungwon said softly.

You froze.

His grip wasn’t tight or forceful—just enough to hold you there, to make you look at him.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

Your throat went dry.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, “You’re always avoiding me,” he continued, “but then you’re always looking.”

Your breath hitched.

Jungwon let out a chuckle. Then, most casually, like he wasn’t wholly messing with your heart, he said—

“You don’t have to run. I don’t mind if you stay.”

You weren’t used to this—at least not with him.

“Hey,” Jungwon’s voice was quiet, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You were processing his words slowly. You had been avoiding him for so long, not because you didn’t like him, but because the thought of being close to him made your heart skip beats. And now, here he was, standing so close,

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze anywhere but him. The more you looked at him, the more your stomach flipped.

Jungwon’s hand fell to his side. He gave you a little space, but not enough to make you feel like he was giving up. You could tell that he wasn’t the type to give up easily. “I didn’t mean to crowd you,” he continued, understanding. “I… wanted to hang out, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure how to move past the awkward tension that had settled between you two. It was strange, feeling so seen yet so exposed. “Okay.” You took a deep breath. “I… I’m not good with all of this yet.”

Jungwon smiled at that. He didn’t push, didn’t pressure. Instead, he took a small step back, keeping a respectful distance but maintaining that comforting presence. “I get it,” he said. “But if you ever want to talk or hang out, I’m here. No rush.” He let the words hang in the air. He is willing to wait until you are ready.

You finally allowed your eyes to meet his, “Thanks,” you whispered, feeling a warmth in your chest that wasn’t just from the proximity but from the simple kindness he showed you. He wasn’t asking for more than your comfort, making everything more manageable.

“You know,” Jungwon added, “you don’t have to hide behind Minho all the time.”

You stiffened at that, but he didn’t look at you teasingly. He was stating a fact.

Your heart fluttered.

“Well, he’s taller than me,” you mumbled, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

Jungwon chuckled.

And for once, the thought of being close to Jungwon didn’t make your heart race in fear. It made it race in something else.

Something a little more hopeful.

💌

The group had decided to take a little break from basically everything that happened, and everyone was now scattered across the dorm’s common area. Kitty and Minho were sitting on the couch, though something was different. Minho had his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa, and Kitty leaned slightly toward him, her attention entirely on whatever they were discussing.

You couldn’t help but watch, caught up in the dynamic between them. It was so apparent that they were getting close. Too close, really. You glanced at them for a few seconds longer than you probably should have, a little uncomfortable with how natural they looked together, especially considering the little tension between them.

You shook your head and sighed. “Those two should just get together already,” you muttered. “It’s painful to watch.” You didn’t even realize you had said it aloud until Jungwon, standing nearby, chuckled softly.

“You seem to be invested in their situation. ”

You froze and blushed immediately. “What? No! I—” You stammered. “It’s awkward, you know? With everything going on with Yuri and all that. It’d be easier if they just figured it out.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Sounds like you’re a little too invested,” his smirk growing.

You looked away quickly. “I’m not. I think… it’s obvious, don’t you think?”

Jungwon leaned back. “Hm. Interesting. You know, Kitty might take that as a challenge. She likes playing matchmaker.” He paused, glancing at the two on the couch before returning to you. “But then again, maybe it’s you who should be matched with someone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot a look at him, trying to keep your cool. “What are you talking about?” You weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever joke or comment he was about to make.

With a shrug. “I don’t know… It’d be painful to watch you and me, right?”

You were trying to make sense of his words. Was he joking? Was he serious?

Before you could respond, Jungwon gave you a playful smile. “Well, maybe not. We’re not so bad, right?” His eyes seemed to challenge you to call him out on it.

You couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” you said quickly. Your thoughts felt muddled, and your stomach flipped in a way you weren’t quite ready to admit.

Jungwon leaned closer just a little. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s happening between you and… well, someone, someday.”

The way he said that last part made your heart flutter, and before you could think too much about it, you quickly stood up, awkwardly brushing past him to talk to Dae. You couldn’t handle being near him anymore, not with his strange comment.

💌

It had been one of those nights where everything felt like it was building up to something. The group had decided to sneak out, and of course, Kitty had the whole thing planned out. Again. She was determined to get you and Jungwon alone for a little confession moment, even if it meant dragging everyone else into a mini adventure. The plan was simple: sneak out to the park for a midnight stroll.

The group managed to sneak out without much trouble, or so they thought. Kitty was already ahead, while Minho, Q, Dae, and Yuri followed, all too eager to escape their studies. You padded behind them. But suddenly, just as you were about to turn the corner toward the door, you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

“Someone’s coming!” you hissed and panic started rising in your chest. You froze, unsure of what to do, until a pair of warm hands quickly grabbed you from behind, pulling you into the nearest room and closing the door softly.

You looked up to see Jungwon standing there. His gaze was serious momentarily before it softened into that usual mischievous smile. “Close call,” he whispered.

You sighed in relief but your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline. “I didn’t think it would be this hard to sneak out,” you muttered.

Jungwon stepped closer, and the space between you grew smaller. “Kitty really knows how to get us into trouble, doesn’t she?” he smiled gently.

You laughed nervously. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. I don’t know how she does it.” You couldn’t help but glance down. “I should probably—” you began to mumble but Jungwon interrupted you

“You don’t have to run away this time,” he murmured and you felt his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You can stay with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the words, and before you could even process their whole meaning, Jungwon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most gentle kiss you’d ever experienced. The world seemed to stop for a moment.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes wide in shock as Jungwon pulled back slightly, but only enough to look at you with a tender look, “You were going to say something, right?” Jungwon whispered

You were unable to form words. You couldn’t find anything to say except for the obvious truth that had been sitting in your chest for so long. “I… I’ve liked you for a while,” you finally admitted in a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t think you’d… feel the same.”

Jungwon smiled and leaned his forehead against yours. “I feel the same,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you… but I guess this is as good a time as any.”

You smiled as you leaned into him, both chuckling in silence. For the first time, it felt like the weight had been lifted, and everything had finally fallen into place.

💌

The next day, you and Jungwon walked through campus hand in hand. You didn’t care about the curious glances or whispers around you. Everything felt so natural now. Jungwon’s thumb gently brushed against your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small but significant change in your relationship.

As you turned the corner, you spotted Kitty and Q sitting at their usual spot by the fountain. They looked up at you two simultaneously, eyes widening in shock as they saw your hands intertwined. Kitty’s face immediately broke into a smile, while Q’s jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god!” Kitty squealed with her voice a few octaves higher than usual as she stood up quickly. “It’s official! You two are—?”

You giggled and nodded. “Yep, it’s real. Took us a while, but we finally figured it out.”

Q was still in shock and blinked a few times before recovering. “Wait, is this the part where you two act all coy about it?” he teased.

Jungwon chuckled and shrugged slightly as he looked down at you with an affectionate gaze. “Guess so,” he said casually. “But it feels good. Finally.”

Kitty, her excitement never waning, jumped up and clapped her hands together. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect for each other. I mean, come on, how could you not be?”

You smiled as you felt a little shy under all their attention. “Yeah, well, it’s thanks to Kitty here,” you said, turning toward her with a grateful look. “She practically forced us to get our act together.”

Kitty just shrugged. “Hey, someone had to step in. You two were taking forever.”

You then decided to have a little fun with Q. Turning to him with a smirk; you said, “Oh, and by the way, Q, now that we’re all on the same page… maybe it’s time you and Jin finally get together.”

Kitty gasped, and Q’s face immediately turned beet red. “I—what? No! That’s—no!” he sputtered

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve noticed that too. You and Jin make a good pair,” he said honestly.

Q looked like he was about to explode, “I hate him!” he said. “You better not tell Jin I said that.”

You chuckled at his reaction. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t say a thing… for now.”

Still practically bouncing with excitement, Kitty turned to Jungwon with a warm smile. “Okay, I’ll take the credit for this one,” she said with a wink. “But I’m happy you two finally figured it out.”

Jungwon gave Kitty a genuine look, squeezing your hand as he thanked her. “Honestly, thank you, Kitty. You really did help us get here.”

Kitty’s face softened and she laughed lightly. “Of course! I’m just happy to see you two so happy together.”

At that moment, everything felt perfect. You were with Jungwon and were surrounded by friends who were happy for you. It felt like the start of something new and beautiful, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for everything that had led up to this moment. “Alright, alright,” you said, leaning into Jungwon as you all settled back down to enjoy the rest of the day. “Let’s just say that Kitty’s matchmaking skills are unmatched.”

Kitty shot you a wink. “Told you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

[sugurow]

Stay the night ?

summary : You’ve been best friends with Fratboy Gojo Satoru since freshman year, the golden boy of his frat, all big smiles and loud parties, always dragging you along despite your refusal to drink or smoke. But somewhere between late-night parties, quiet mornings, and the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice… something shifts. And once the line blurs, there’s no going back.

pairing : satoru gojo x y/n

warnings : 18+, smut with plot, foreplay, cussing, mentions of alcohol and drugs, mild angst.

word count : 7.9k

art in cover by thatsallitchief

“You’re wearing that?” Gojo leans against the doorframe of your dorm, grinning like the devil himself.

You glance down at your square neck shirt and sweatpants, “Yeah? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re planning to do my econ homework instead of going to the biggest party of the semester.” He winks. “But if you want to stand next to me all night, you might want to up the hot factor.”

You roll your eyes and grab your phone. Mind you, that shirt was not cheap. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

You flip him off after slipping your shoes on. He grins.

“Well I suppose it’s fine, you only need to impress me.”

-

You don’t drink. Never have. Don’t like the taste, don’t like the way it makes people sloppy. But Gojo? Gojo swims in red solo cups like he was born in one. He’s loud and stupid and radiant at these parties, throwing his arms around people like everyone’s his best friend.

But only you get the crooked grin he saves for when the music’s too loud and he leans in to say, “You good?”

Only you get the protective arm when the crowd gets too pushy. Only you get the water bottle he pulls from nowhere and hands you without asking.

You don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t party, but you go to all of them. Because he’s there.

Because he always wants you there. Stuck to his side every weekend since freshman year.

-

You’re sitting on the couch, half-listening to Shoko recounting a story about a tequila shot gone wrong, when Gojo stumbles over. His cheeks are pink, smile lazy, tie askew.

He plops down beside you, too close, thigh pressed against yours. That was Shoko’s cue to get up out of there for another drink.

“Hey.” He leans his head on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I am talking. Kind of.” You nudge him. “And you’re drunk.”

“Mmm. Buzzed. Drunk’s a little harsh, sweetheart.” He turns to look at you, his voice growing softer now. “You tired? We can go.”

You blink. “You don’t want to stay?”

“I only come to these things for the vibes.” His lips twist up. “And the vibes leave when you look like you wanna disappear into the couch of doom.” He chuckles at his corny remark.

You can’t help but laugh at how stupid that sounded. “You’re such a liar. You come to these to show off. Beer pong king, or whatever you call yourself.”

He scoffs dramatically, acting like you just cursed his whole made up championship. “Excuse you. And also, I can’t show off if my best girl looks bored out of her mind.”

Best girl.

Your chest does a stupid fluttering thing.

-

Later, after he’s done fake punching his frat brothers goodbye, you walk back together in the cold night air. The party is still thumping in the distance, but Gojo’s quiet now, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

You’re thankful that you didn’t bother to change your outfit and worn heels despite having him mog you the entire night. You don’t get how the others can stand up for this long without taking a break on the many seats spread out the room.

“You didn’t have to leave early,” you murmur, “You were having fun.”

“I wasn’t.” He glances sideways. “Not really.”

You look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just… less fun when you’re not smiling.”

And just like that, you’re melting again. It’s so unfair the way he does this, hides soft confessions under jokes and alcohol.

You stop walking. “Looks like chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

There’s a beat of silence before you ask, heart stupidly hopeful, “Why do you always want me there?”

Satoru blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“At the parties. You could go with anyone. You could go with a different girl every week if you wanted to. Not to boost your ego or anything.” You try to keep your voice even, whispering the last part. “But you always ask me.”

Gojo goes still. His eyes drop to your mouth for a half second too long.

Then he says, “Because it’s you.”

That’s it. Like it explains everything.

“Because I like being around you,” he continues, quieter now. “Because I feel better when you’re there. Because it’s not really fun unless I can turn around and see you rolling your eyes at me across the room.”

Your throat goes dry. “Satoru…”

He steps a little closer. His voice is low, nervous, like he’s trying, like he’s fighting himself.

“I always thought you weren’t into guys like me,” he says. “Loud. Messy. Frat-boy reputation and all that.”

You smile, heart racing. “I thought you weren’t into girls like me. Quiet. No fun. Buzzkill.”

Gojo laughs, short and disbelieving. “You think you’re no fun? You’re the only person who keeps me sane, nerd. You’re the only reason I don’t blow up this whole damn house sometimes.”

You both stare at each other. Your side eye upon hearing him call you a nerd vanishing. The wind picks up. Somewhere, someone’s yelling about beer pong.

And then, slowly, he reaches out, curling his pinky around yours.

Not a kiss. Not yet. “I’m so glad I talked to you that evening at Suguru’s party.”

“Be thankful for Shoko for ditching us,” You chuckle.

The first party you attended was during freshman year. You were sorta known but not known enough to be considered ‘popular’. You were sweet and smiled at people passing by.

Shoko had dragged you around with her, freezing at random places to greet people she knew, leaving you standing there awkwardly because you didn’t know them. Finally she stopped to greet Gojo, entering a conversation before departing when she heard someone yell “Shots!”

You picked at your freshly painted nails, looking everywhere except at the white haired man with pearly blue eyes, standing in front of you. You tried to look natural, so did Gojo. Which was weird because he can usually talk to anybody without a problem, except you. Why was he so shy?

“You coming to next week’s party?” he asks, trying to sound casual as you reach your dorm.

You grin. “Only if you’re saving me a seat.”

His smile is brighter than the streetlights.

“Always. Maybe on my lap this time.”

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself not to smile at his cheesy way of flirting. “Whatever. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, yawning as he locked your dorm door and guiding the both of you towards your room. He had his hand placed on the small of your back, his droopy eyes scanning around for the remote of your LED lights.

“Satoru. Just leave it, I’ll turn on my lamp,” you suggested while laying him down on the bed beside you. You reached over your desk, turning on the sunset lamp you had purchased not too long ago. The orangey-yellow hues brightening the corner of the room it was pointed at.

“Awe but the blue LED lights bring me some sort of ease,” he blabbers, like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you.

“Only blue though. Red is for..” He trialed off, making you roll your eyes knowing exactly where he was going with this. “You know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sometimes you question yourself if best friends do these types of stuff. Satoru always flirts, always looking at you with a glint in his eyes that he doesn’t have with anyone else, always cuddling with you when you two get home after a party, and always lingering closer than a best friend should be. Is he just being Satoru or is it more.

You pinch his ear before letting go. “Satoru,” You warned.

He winced. “Ow! Okay okay, I get it.”

He rubbed his ear and pulled you on top of him with his free hand, resting your head against his chest. His let go and slowly his hands found their way to your back, like they belong there, gently soothing you to sleep.

Sometimes, when you’re lucky. Satoru will sleep without snoring. When you’re extra lucky he won’t kick you in his sleep.

-

You don’t hate the frat parties.

The music is always too loud. Someone’s always spilling beer two inches from your shoes. And you inevitably end up being the only sober person in a sea of chaos.

But you come anyway. Every single time. Because Satoru always looks at you like you’re the only person that matters in the room.

This time you took the liberty of dressing up.

“You’re glowing tonight, Y/n,” Geto smirks over the lip of his cup, watching Satoru trail behind you like a six-foot puppy with no leash.

Satoru Gojo, dressed in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, a back hoodie throwing over his shoulder, beer in one hand, joint behind his ear like a decoration.

“I didn’t even put on makeup,” you say, sipping a cup of soda.

“Exactly,” Shoko chimes in from the corner. “You don’t have to.”

Gojo shoots them both a glare. “Back off.”

“Ohhh, possessive,” Toji whistles, lounging against the kitchen island. “You two still pretending you’re just friends?”

“We are friends,” Satoru says automatically, even as he casually adjusts your dress straps for you, fingers brushing your arm. “She just likes coming with me.”

“I like the free soda,” you lie, avoiding everyone’s knowing looks. You won’t deny that it hurt whenever he claims you two were merely just ‘friends’

The truth is, you like going with him.

Not because of the parties. Not because of the attention, even though you know you get it pretty girls always do, especially when they walk in beside Satoru Gojo with his arm slung across their shoulders like it belongs there.

You like it because the second you step into that house, it’s like the world goes quiet.

Because Satoru never lets you fade into the background. Because he always saves you a seat, always brings you a drink, always remembers the straw. Because even while he’s being loud and stupid with his friends, he’s glancing over to check if you’re okay.

Because you feel like his person.

Even if he’s never said it.

“You sure you’re not cold?” he asks for the third time, tugging at the strap of your dress, an odd habit of his.

“You already offered me your hoodie, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the thick one. Next time I’ll bring that big stupid one with the sherpa lining. The one you said made me look like a polar bear.”

You laugh. “You do look like a polar bear in it.”

He grins, bright and unbothered. “A sexy polar bear, though.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

He always makes you smile.

-

From room to room, drink to drink, lap to lap of conversation but always together. If Gojo’s talking to Suguru in the kitchen, you’re leaning against the counter next to him, sipping something fizzy from his cup.

If you’re chatting with Maki and Panda in the living room, Gojo is lounging behind you, long legs spread across the couch, one arm looped lazily around your waist.

He doesn’t need to speak every second, he just likes touching you. A thigh against yours, fingers brushing your wrist, your knee tucked over his. Like the silence between you two is just as loud as his voice.

-

Later, when the music slows and the crowd thins, you’re sitting together in the back room again, away from the chaos.

Gojo’s legs are stretched out. Yours are tucked under you. His hoodie hangs heavy on your frame, and you swear you’ve never felt safer.

He watches you like he always does when he thinks you’re not looking, like he’s memorizing you. His blue eyes wide like saucers.

“You know you don’t have to come to these,” he says suddenly, voice softer than before. “I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I know.”

“But you do anyway.”

You meet his eyes. “I only come for you. Not for the lukewarm beer, the music, nor the stupid ‘fun’ you boys claim to have.”

The words hang there. Undeniable. A little scary.

Gojo swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He leans his head back against the couch, exhales slowly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Geto says, walking into the room and seeing the two of you curled up like a rom-com final scene. “If you’re gonna pin this hard, at least kiss her so we can all stop pretending you aren’t madly in love.”

“Geto, shut up,” Gojo groans, ruffling his hair over his eyes.

You laugh, really laugh and squeeze Gojo’s hand tighter.

“Ignore them,” he says under his breath. “They’re just jealous I have the prettiest girl here.”

You look at him sideways. “You’re such a flirt.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against your temple.

“You always say that, sweetheart,” he whispers “Only with you.”

Like a typical frat party the voices of jocks rang into your ear as they yelled out for Gojo to join them.

“Beer pong champion, they’re looking for you,” you chuckle.

Gojo groans, “Duty calls.”

He winks your way before shooting up and walking to the table, ready for another match. You giggle at his antics. There is truly never a dull moment in the parties whenever he’s around.

-

You’re back in your corner of the room, phone in hand pretending to be busy so you can avoid unwanted conversations. You hear Shoko calling your name from across the room but you know if you got up you’d get dragged into an endless conversation with her and Maki.

You flash her a smile before returning back to your phone, opening and closing it. Your wallpaper was set on photo roulette mode, the background changes whenever you close it. You had set the pictures to be of you and Gojo, sometimes pictures of landscapes.

It wasn’t weird to have your ‘bestfriend’ as your lock screen, he has you as his. It wasn’t weird to have a polaroid of the two of you behind your clear phone case. No. It felt natural.

“Y/n, come on.” Maki drags you by the arm, making you stand up from the soft seated couch. “Live a little.”

You close your phone once again before walking behind her. “I am living. Last time I checked, I was breathing perfectly fine,” you joked.

All you got was an eye roll from Maki, making you chuckle.

“Smartass.” She says as she handed you a cup filled with juice. The people who usually attend know you don’t drink. They knew you’d refuse, handing them back the cup every time they’d try and convince you to at least try whatever concoction they created. Probably a mixture of don julio and hennessy. The liquor Satoru usually drinks if he wants to change it up from his usual beers.

It’s sort of weird. Satoru doesn’t smell bad per say. He smelt like a hint of alcohol or a little bit of weed, but he never smelt bad. You’d light his blunts for him with the lighter you carry around because you know how whiney he gets after realizing he forgot his. He says it kills his entire vibe even though he forgets about it 10 minutes later.

He didn’t smell like the other frat boys. You never had to make a face or look the opposite way whenever he comes close to you.

Satoru smells like Satoru. He smells like his expensive cologne that he claims to be “trending” all over the fragrance part of tiktok. He smelt like home.

Cheers echoed loudly, overpowering the loud speakers playing jersey beats. A group of boys chanting Satoru’s name, over and over again. A clear indication that the ‘Beer pong champion’ claimed another victory. Really, you don’t even know why people still want to challenge him.

Maki soon drifted apart from you, finding her way to the kitchen for another drink. You stood near a wall, staring off into the distance, your hand clutching your phone.

You glanced down, checking the time. It’s currently past midnight. The party is still alive as it was when it first started. Sukuna was well known to throw successful parties.

You sighed, your feet ache, your head was starting to hurt, and your eyes were drooping. Yet you never once thought about leaving without Gojo by your side. You’re in charge of making sure he even makes it back to his dorm.

-

Later close to 3 am the party was finally dying down. People getting dragged out by their more sober friends, some who didn’t even make it outside of the door, laying unconscious on the floor. The air smelt like heavy smoke and alcohol.

Red cups everywhere, ash trays left on the tables while decorations once hanging up were now on the ground.

You made your way through the hallway, looking for the 6 foot usual ball of energy. Your eyes scanned around before finally landing on him. Gojo stumbling a little bit, walking towards you with a doopey grin.

“Satoru,” you whispered, hiding back a smile “you’re drunk.”

“No sweetheart, I told you- not drunk! just buzzed.”

He draped an arm around your shoulder, his other one finding its way to your waist, holding it like he always does. His head rests against your shoulder, his white hair tickling your face.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” he said, mumbling the last part.

You didn’t hesitate to let him lean up against you while you guided the both of you outside. The fresh air, free from the pollution called frat parties, filling your lungs.

You took a deep breath while Gojo mumbled drunk words against your skin. “Mhmmm sleepy.”

With a sigh you hurried up your pace, practically dragging him towards your dorm. “Almost there.”

The moment you entered your room Gojo collapsed onto your bed, body sprawled out and eyes closed. Not a care in the world. ‘Buzzed’ he claims.

You placed a hand on your forehead, sighing in exhaustion. Inspecting the sight in front of you you realize his shirt was beginning to ride up his stomach, his v line peeking from under his toned abs. You caught yourself, quickly shaking your head and looking away.

You throw a blanket over him, turning around to close your lights and turning the lights he claims that soothes him. The clock on your desk read 4 am.

You hear Satoru mumble your name from under the covers, making you look down at him. “Y/n..”

You hum before slipping under the white, strawberry patterned duvet, “Mhm?”

“I love you,” he whispers casually. You freeze

‘What?’ was the first thing you can think of. You open your mouth but failed to speak any words, not even a sound came out. You forced yourself to speak up, not wanting to ruin the moment or make him feel like you don’t love him back.

But then doubt kicks in, what if he’s just babbling drunk thoughts? No, you can’t embarrass yourself.

“Satoru you should probably go brush your teeth-“ Snore.

You let out a loud groan. Tonight seemed to be one of the unlucky ones. Satoru was snoring and drooling.

-

And that was it. You never mentioned it and he didn’t seem to remember it.

Since then, things have been… weird.

Not on the surface. Gojo’s still Gojo. Still texts you dumb memes. He still touches you a little too much. Still throws his arm around your shoulders when you’re standing around campus. Still looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. Still acts like you’re the best part of every room he walks into.

But the closeness feels different now. Too sharp. Too hopeful. Too dangerous.

Because what if none of it meant anything? What if it’s just him being him? And what if you read too much into it?

He’s Gojo Satoru. King of the party scene. Six foot something, frat boy energy, infuriatingly good looking. And you’re… just you.

-

So you retreat.

You don’t mean to. You tell yourself you’re just busy.

You bury yourself in schoolwork. In your job. In every commitment you can find. You say yes to every extra shift at the campus cafe. You start getting ahead on assignments no one’s assigned yet. You even ignore a couple of his texts, not ghosting him, just spacing them out. Being “busy.” Master of sabotage.

You don’t mean to pull away, but you do. No more late night calls. No more tagging along to parties. No more pretending like your heart doesn’t race every time he looks at you too long.

If he noticed something changed, he didn’t say it.

If he cared, he’d say something… right?

You’re not mad at him.

You’re mad at yourself for thinking, even for a second, that someone like him could fall for someone like you.

-

The knock comes just after 10 p.m.

It’s late and you’re halfway through writing an essay that isn’t due for another week. Your eyes are bleary, you’re wearing the same hoodie from yesterday, and your room’s lit only by your laptop screen and a half-dead string of fairy lights.

You almost don’t answer.

But then you hear his voice:

“Y/n? You in there?”

Your stomach twists.

You debate not answering. You debate crawling under your desk and pretending you’re asleep. But your feet move on their own, and when you open the door, there he was.

Gojo Satoru, in a hoodie and joggers, hair pushed back like he’s been pacing. His usual cocky grin is nowhere to be found.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “Can I come in?”

You step aside.

He walks in like your room is familiar. Because it is.

And you realize, painfully, that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing him. He looks you over really looks and his eyes drop to the pile of papers on your desk, the untouched dinner, the overstuffed planner on your nightstand.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks after a long beat. “You’ve been distant. And don’t say it’s just ‘school.’”

You hesitate. Then go with the safest answer: “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve always been busy,” he says gently. “But not like this.”

You busy yourself gathering papers off your desk. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He looks almost hurt by that. “Of course I noticed. Busy for you is good… I suppose, but not like this. Not when it’s hurting you.”

Something bubbles in your chest, something ugly and sad and fragile. “I don’t know what you want from me, Satoru.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just-“

His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you rush on.

“You say things. You look at me like I matter. But then nothing happens. I have constant self doubt, no matter what. I can never convince myself that what I’m doing is right and not a mistake. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t mess with me.”

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to saying I like you.

You don’t look at him.

You’re afraid of what’s on his face, pity? Confusion? Worse?

Instead, you say, quietly, “Maybe I just needed space to figure it out.”

Gojo is silent for a long moment. Then he exhales, stepping closer. Your heart stutters.

“No, you don’t,” he adds when you don’t respond. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be trying to disappear on me.”

You meet his eyes then and it nearly breaks you.

Because there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk. Just raw honesty.

You whisper. “I thought if I said anything, it would ruin it, you know, us being best friends. I’m not really the venting type of person.”

He smiles, but it’s soft. Tired. “You pulling away is what almost ruined it.”

You blink, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.

He steps even closer, toeing the edge of your personal space like he always does.

“And I’m not gonna stop trying,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper, “unless you ask me to. Don’t burn yourself out trying to prove you’re worth something you

You ask, shakily, “So… what now?”

He grins a little just enough to lighten the air.

“Well,” he says, pulling something out of his hoodie pocket. It’s a folded flyer. Hand-drawn. Probably by Geto. “I’m hosting a party on Saturday. It’s gonna be outside by the bond fire.”

You give him a tired look. “I’m not really in a party mood.”

“I figured you’d say that,” he says. Then his voice softens. “But I was hoping you’d come anyway.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because I want you there,” he says.

His eyes find yours.

“I want you to come as my date.”

It’s quiet after that. Your heart beats so loud it’s all you can hear.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, suddenly a little nervous. “You don’t have to answer right now. I just… thought it would be a good idea. I mean most of them are bringing a plus one.”

You nod slowly.

Then, quietly:

“Okay.”

He stills. “Okay?”

“I’ll come,” you say, lips curving up. “As your date.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath all week. Then his grin returns, bright, wide, impossibly him.

“You’re gonna look so good, I’m not gonna survive.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. He reaches the door, hand on the knob, then pauses.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, one last time. You meet his gaze, softer now.

“I think I will be.”

And with that, he leaves. But his smile lingers.

-

You don’t even knock. You just step into the party the way you always do, quiet, unnoticed, somewhere between unsure and familiar. But this time, you’re not alone.

This time, you’re his date.

The house is buzzing the second you arrive, not chaotic like usual, but warm. Music hums through the speakers in the backyard, where strings of lights glow between trees and paper lanterns. There’s no beer pong, no packed kitchen, no loud bass shaking the walls.

It feels more like a gathering than a party. Intimate.

Intentional.

You spot Geto and Shoko by the fire pit, Yuta curled up in a hoodie next to Panda, who is definitely roasting marshmallows too aggressively.

And then you see him.

Gojo, standing near the back steps, laughing with Nanami and Utahime. White shirt hugging his frame, blue eyes scanning the yard like he’s looking for-

He spots you.

And just like that, his smile softens. Warms. Becomes something only you get to see.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, like he didn’t text you three times earlier asking if you were still coming. Like he hasn’t clearly been waiting.

You look up at him, nervous, unsure, hopeful. “Hey.”

His eyes flick over you quickly, like he’s trying not to stare. You dressed simple, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing glowing brighter than the lights overhead.

“You look…” He falters for a second, grinning. “Really pretty.”

You smile, shy. “Thanks.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Wanna hang by the fire? Or you want the tour first? There’s a s’mores station with your name on it. I may have hoarded the good chocolate.”

You laugh genuinely, easily. “Fire sounds good.”

The party flows around you, but it feels like you’re in your own bubble.

You sit beside him by the fire, knees just barely brushing. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t pull anything bold but every now and then, he leans in close to say something. Something just for you.

And you don’t pull away.

You don’t even think to.

Because when Gojo laughs and leans into your shoulder, it feels like something you’ve already known for a long time.

Like it was always supposed to be this way.

“I missed this,” he says quietly, later in the night. “Missed you.”

You glance at him, eyes soft in the flickering firelight, his hands cupped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze.

“Felt like you did,” he says. “For a while.”

You look down. “I was just scared.”

“I know,” he says, and there’s no judgment in his voice. “Me too.”

You breathe in slowly. The fire crackles beside you.

Then:

“But I’m here now.”

He nods. “Yeah. You are.”

It doesn’t feel like a confession. It doesn’t feel like fireworks or declarations or “I’ve always loved you.”

It just feels right.

And maybe that’s better. People notice.

Of course they do.

Geto nudges Gojo when you’re off grabbing a drink. “You’re basically one slow dance away from being an actual couple.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re smiling like a dumbass,” Shoko adds, sipping her drink. “It’s weirdly endearing.”

Even Nanami, who barely raises an eyebrow at anything, mutters, “Took you long enough.”

Gojo doesn’t deny it.

He just glances toward the back deck, where you’re chatting with Yuuji, your laugh quiet but real.

And he smiles again.

-

Later, when most of the yard has emptied and only the glow of the fire remains, you find yourselves side by side on the porch steps. Close, but not touching.

The silence is comfortable.

Not like before.

He nudges your knee with his.

“You tired?”

You shake your head. “No. Just… happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, the kind that holds too much.

And then, softly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

Gojo’s eyes search yours like he’s still scared you might disappear.

“Is this… okay?” he asks. “Us. Like this. Closer.”

You exhale. The warmth in your chest feels like it could light the whole backyard.

“Yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “It’s more than okay.”

And that’s it.

No kiss. No need to say more.

You just lean your head on his shoulder.

And Gojo who’s always loud, always dramatic goes still and soft beside you. Like the moment matters too much to risk breaking.

You stay like that until the fire burns out.

-

It starts with Sukuna.

Pierced tongue. Permanent smirk. Always skipping class.

He joins the same philosophy lecture you and Gojo have been half-ignoring all semester. But while Gojo mostly doodles on your notes and sends you stupid memes during class, Sukuna- Sukuna talks to you.

A lot.

He sits next to you one day when Gojo’s late. Offers gum. Comments on your handwriting. Makes you laugh, once. Gojo sees it when he walks in.

Sees you turn toward Sukuna instead of him. Sees Sukuna lean into your space, too close, too casual.

He doesn’t say anything that day.

But it sticks.

It builds from there.

You run into Sukuna at the library. Then again near the rec center. Then again when you’re with Maki grabbing food.

“Popular,” Gojo teases lightly. “He following you or something?”

You laugh. “I think he just likes talking.”

But the thing is, you don’t realize Gojo isn’t teasing. He’s dead serious.

He’s watching. Always. Quietly.

Watching Sukuna make you laugh in ways he used to. Watching him lean against walls and flash you that cocky little grin. Watching you not pull away.

And he hates it.

Worse, he hates how much it bothers him.

The realization doesn’t hit Gojo all at once.

It’s slow.

A sick warmth in his stomach when Sukuna shows up at the same party you and Gojo are at. Sukuna always attends the frat parties, why does this one feel so different? Gojo invited you. Sukuna just… appears.

He watches the way you talk with him near the drinks table. He doesn’t approach. Doesn’t pull you away. But he watches. Tight lipped. Drinking too fast.

Shoko eventually corners him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You’re glaring at that guy like he owes you money.”

Gojo sips his drink. “He’s weird.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not-“ he starts, then stops.

Shoko just gives him a look. And that’s when it hits him.

Oh.

-

That night, Gojo doesn’t text you.

The next day, he cancels plans. “Frat stuff.”

You shrug it off. You’re used to him being busy.

But you don’t miss the shift. The distance. And it hurts more than you want to admit.

Then comes the snap.

You text him to help you review for a quiz. He agrees, reluctantly. You meet in your dorm, like old times.

But he’s off the second he walks in. No teasing. No dumb jokes. No light shoulder bumps.

Just quiet tension.

You tilt your head. “You okay?”

He flips through your notes. “You and Sukuna are getting close.”

You freeze. “What?”

“I mean, he’s everywhere lately. Study buddies now, too?”

You blink, slow. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“I just didn’t realize you had a type.”

There’s a bite to it. You flinch.

“Gojo-“

“Satoru.”

You pause.

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, softer.

He exhales hard. “Because I thought-“

He breaks off. Runs a hand through his hair. He needs to know. Needs to ask. Needs to tear the damn bandaid off before it gets worse.

“I thought it was me. I thought I was the one you looked at like that.”

The silence after is a vacuum.

“You are,” you say, quietly.

Gojo looks up. Stunned.

“I only laughed at Sukuna because he asked if you were my boyfriend and I panicked,” you admit. “I said we were just friends and he smirked like he knew.”

You look down.

“And I hated that he might’ve been right.”

Gojo is across the room before you finish breathing. You don’t miss the fact at how his pupils are more dilated than usual.

The kiss is slow and loaded.

No crash. No firestorm. Just weight.

Like the moment’s been waiting for months, and now it’s finally time.

His hands cradle your face.

“You’re mine,” he says. It’s not a question.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He kisses you again. This time deeper. Hungrier.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers against your lips.

“Then take it,” you whisper back.

The room burns.

Your shirt comes off first, his hoodie next.

He kisses down your throat, slow and reverent. Like he’s discovering something forbidden.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So fucking pretty.”

You gasp as his hand slips under your waistband. He’s careful. Focused. Watching you fall apart like it’s something he needs.

He hesitates, not wanting to force you. Not wanting to do anything out of your comfort zone. He loves you.

You notice his hesitation and tugged him closer. “Want you. Please.”

He sucks in a breath. “Say it again.”

“I want you, Satoru.”

He rolls his head back and groans like he’s losing his mind.

He pulls down the comfortable pajama shorts you’re wearing. Whistling upon seeing your lace panties. “You always wearing these?” he teases.

You put your hand up to his bare chest and push him away, jokingly. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “No, they so happened to be the first pair that I grabbed.”

He chuckles, the deep chuckle that makes your throat go dry, the bottom of your stomach twist with desire. “That’s hot, sweetheart. They’re my favourite color.”

He leans in to bite your ear, making you gasp. Satoru is quick, he knows what he wants. He slowly trailed his hand down towards your clothed pussy, rubbing it gently.

“Fuck- baby, it’s leaking,” he says with a smirk.

You can’t see his face but you already know what smug expression he’s making. That asshole.

“Satoru,” you warn, no malice or disrespect behind it, just neediness.

“Heard ya, princess.”

He slips his hand in your waist band, slowly circling his thumb over your clit, making you jolt. You lean your body against his, muffling your soft moans against his skin.

Then you feel the stretch. His long fingers entering you, slow and deliberate. Your slick coating it.

“All this just from me talking?” he grins. His lips trailing kisses down jaw all the way to your neck. His tongue licking your sweet spot.

“Just-“ you stutter, “just put it in, you tease.”

“Say please.” His hands grip your hips, then your waist, then your face. He walks you backwards toward your bed, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. He pulls back, just a breath, eyes dark.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants. “If you want me to.”

You shake your head, already breathless. “Don’t.”

In a flash you were on your back with Gojo placed in between your legs, your panties tossed to the ground, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your chest. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You arch beneath him, gasping as he kisses your ribs, your stomach, your hips.

“I dreamed of this,” he confesses, voice shaking. “More than once.”

You’re trembling when he finally slips inside—slow, deep, overwhelming.

You moan into his neck, gripping his shoulders. You cling to him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the painful stretch and how good it feels, how real.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You okay?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“Yes,” you breathe. “So much.”

He thrusts slow, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

“You feel like home,” he pants. “Like you were made for me.”

Your legs tighten around him. His hand laces with yours. It’s everything you never said, poured into movement.

You come first, body shaking, eyes glassy. He follows moments after, burying his face in your shoulder as he falls apart. Groaning in your ear.

-

After, you lie tangled in sheets, his fingers tracing circles on your bare back.

“I hate that it took Sukuna to get me to say something,” he mumbles.

You smile into his chest. “He was kind of helpful, actually.”

He groans. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You giggle. Then softer, “You’re really mine now?”

His hand curls into your hair.

“I’ve always been yours,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know it.”

-

Mornings with him are different now.

He’s still chaotic, still wakes up with bedhead and somehow makes pouring cereal sound dramatic but now he’s yours. And he acts like it.

You wake up to his hand on your waist and his breath in your hair. His leg always ends up tangled with yours. He grumbles if you try to get out of bed too early.

“Just five more minutes,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m serious this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Because underneath the dramatic sighs and sleepy whining, Gojo’s hand never lets go of yours.

-

Breakfast becomes a thing.

Not fancy, usually cereal, toast, maybe eggs if he’s feeling ambitious. But he makes sure you eat before class.

“You’re not leaving here without food,” he says, sliding a banana into your bag. “Girlfriend privileges. I worry about you now.”

You snort. “You didn’t worry about me before?”

“I did! Silently.”

You raise a brow.

“Okay, loudly, but in my own way,” he amends, grinning. “Which mostly involved buying you Red Bulls and pretending it wasn’t concern.”

Walking to class together has always been in your routine.

He meets you outside your dorm even if it means being late himself. He carries your bag half the time, just because. He holds your hand like he needs to.

People stare now, but it’s not the usual Gojo-stare. It’s softer. Curious.

You overhear one girl whisper, “They’re really together?”

Another replies, “I thought she was just his best friend…”

And Gojo just smirks, squeezes your hand tighter, and loudly kisses your temple like the smug bastard he is.

His place becomes your second home.

You leave a toothbrush there. Then a hairbrush. Then half your sleep clothes.

“Is this a drawer?” you ask one day, opening a newly cleared-out space in Gojo’s dresser.

“It’s your drawer,” he says, smug. “Started making it after the first night you stayed over.”

“You’re insane. That was a long time ago.”

“I’m prepared.”

You roll your eyes, but later, you put your favorite hoodie in there. You kind of like that he planned ahead.

Studying together becomes dangerous.

He’s distracting.

He keeps poking your thigh under the table.

Keeps whispering stupid jokes.

Keeps staring at you with that annoying grin.

Keeps leaning over your shoulder, pretending to read, but really just wanting to be close.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“I’m studying.”

“You’re literally not.”

“I’m studying you.”

You shove his notebook at him.

He grins. “Was that foreplay?”

“Satoru.”

He memorized your schedule.

Shows up between classes with coffee. Walks you to the library. Waits outside your labs.

Sometimes, you don’t even realize he’s there until he slides next to you on a bench and offers half a cookie.

“Been waiting long?” you ask.

“Only forever,” he says, but he’s smiling.

And you know he’d wait again.

Some nights you stay in.

You curl up in his bed with Netflix on and snacks scattered across the blanket. His hand is always around your waist, even when he’s half-asleep.

He lets you steal his clothes. His shampoo. His chargers.

He lets you fall asleep on his chest and only shifts to kiss your forehead.

“Love you,” he whispers one night. It slips out between breaths, not even part of the conversation.

You freeze.

He doesn’t.

Just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and repeats it.

“Love you. Not scared about it anymore.”

You kiss him, slow, soft, deep.

“I love you too.”

-

You don’t even tell the others.

But they know. All of them are varying levels of unsurprised.

The second you and Satoru walk in together, not just side by side, but together, like gravity pulled you that way it’s over. They can see it all.

Gojo doesn’t let go of you once.

His hand stays low on your back. Yours brushes his fingers every few steps. He’s smiling, but not in his usual chaotic way.

He’s softer tonight. Quieter. Like he’s not looking to be the loudest person in the room for once. Like his attention is already full.

You’d gone over together many times, obviously. You got ready in his room, shoved your lip gloss in his back pocket. He’d watched you get dressed from the bed, doing nothing to hide the way his eyes traveled slowly, unashamed.

“You always this pretty, or are you trying to kill me tonight?”

You threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and kissed it like an idiot.

Now, at the party, the others see it instantly.

It’s not just the handholding. It’s the way he leans into you when you laugh. The way you fix the collar of his hoodie without thinking. The way he watches you walk away, eyes glued to your back like you’re the only thing he’s ever followed in his life.

-

“God,” Maki groans as she watches you two across the living room. “It’s worse now.”

“They were already like this,” Shoko mutters, sipping something neon.

“No, but now it’s legally sanctioned.” Nobara gestures as Gojo tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “There’s nothing stopping him. He’s unstoppable.”

“They’ve always been like this. Now they just kiss in front of us.”

Maki is the first to say anything.

She corners you near the kitchen, squints like she’s solving a puzzle.

“You’re glowing,” she accuses.

You try (badly) to play it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” She leans in. “You look freshly ruined and spiritually fulfilled. That’s Gojo glow.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Before you can deny it, Shoko walks past. “Finally.”

You gasp. “You all knew?!”

Yuta passing through, uninterested mutters, “Yeah. We’ve been over it since last semester.”

Even Panda chimes in from the couch. “I lost ten bucks on how long it would take.”

Meanwhile, Gojo’s got his own interrogation squad.

Suguru smirks from across the pong table. “You seem settled.”

Gojo takes a casual sip of his drink. “I’m good.”

“Is that her hoodie?”

Gojo smirks. “Nope. Mine. But she stole it first.”

Suguru raises a brow. “So it’s official?”

Gojo nods, that stupidly satisfied look spreading on his face.

“You tell her you love her yet?”

Gojo blinks.

“Because you do,” Suguru adds casually. “You’ve been in love with her since that stupid Halloween party freshmen year.”

“Okay, relax,” Gojo mutters, cheeks flushing.

-

Gojo slips behind you while you’re talking with Panda, slides an arm around your waist and leans in like it’s instinct.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your ear.

You nod. “They’re all bullying me.”

He kisses your temple, shameless. “Good. You deserve it.”

You try to nudge him but you’re smiling.

And so is he.

There’s a quiet in his body tonight, not bored, not tired, but anchored. Like you settled something deep in him. Like he’s finally breathing the way he always wanted to.

You drift together through the party.

He holds your hand under the beer pong table.

You steal his fries.

He kisses your cheek without thinking.

You play with his rings when you’re bored.

Sukuna shows up around ten, smirking as always. He catches sight of the way Gojo’s arm is curled protectively around your hips, and just lifts a brow.

“Guess I missed my shot,” he says dryly.

Gojo grins, all teeth. “You never had one.”

You smack his chest, but Sukuna just laughs.

“Wasn’t trying to steal her, anyway. Just wanted to piss you off.”

“You did,” Gojo says, grinning harder. “And it worked.”

Sukuna laughs.

The night drips by in warm gold.

Gojo takes dumb pictures of you on his phone. You steal his hoodie halfway through the night. He sings part of a song into your neck even though he’s off-key and way too loud.

You end up on the couch together, you in his lap, his arms snug around you.

People pass and grin. Some whisper. Someone asks Gojo, jokingly, “Damn, did you finally lock her down?”

He laughs. Looks down at you. “Nope. She locked me down.”

You blink at him, and he kisses you. Again.

You lose count of how many times he kisses you that night.

Later, you find yourselves tucked on a porch bench while the music thumps inside.

The cold nips at your skin but Gojo wraps his hoodie tighter around you, tugs you between his legs.

“You good?” he asks again, gently.

You look up at him.

His hair’s a mess. His lips are a little pink. His eyes are soft in a way they never used to be like he finally let the walls down.

“I’m good,” you say honestly.

He leans his forehead to yours. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It is.”

He cups your cheek. “We really did it, huh?”

You nod, teasing. “I mean, you could still ruin it.”

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “But now you’re stuck with me.”

You sigh dramatically. “Such a demanding boyfriend.”

You lean in and kiss him, just soft, just long enough to feel it in your chest.

He hums against your lips.

When you pull back, he whispers, “Let’s leave soon.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm on your skin. “Because I want you all to myself. Please, can you stay the night?”

[c4tluver02]

group project

wc: 3.5k

summary: You and Steve get paired up for a group project. You dread it and Steve can't help but want to figure out why?

cw: r has long hair, shy!reader, r has female anatomy

a/n: i think this is the longest ive written? we all cheered!!

The start of your senior year has gone smoothly so far. You woke up on time, nothing went wrong with your makeup, and you made it to school with no issue. After parking you met up with a friend who had called you earlier to tell you she already had ‘hot school gossip’. Classes started in 10 minutes so it gave you two times to talk. 

“Okay, so you know how Kelly dropped out?” She started.

You nod ready to hear the rest of the story until you hear a loud yell from the end of the hall. Both of you turn your heads to see King Steve and his group of friends. Tommy was jumping up and down and Steve was rolling his eyes laughing at him. Grinding your teeth at their obnoxiousness you turn your attention back to your friend. 

“If I am in any class with those fools I might just have to walk out.” She says still gazing over the group. 

“We’ve made it this far without, let's hope for one more good year!” You respond sarcastically. 

Suddenly the bell rings. You’ll have to get the details on Kelly during lunch. You and your friend part ways and you head towards the first period class. 

After being here for three years already, you have the place down. It doesn't take you long to find out where your class is and luckily you're early enough to pick a good seat. Another hope you have is the absences of a seating chart. But with all these hopes you risk not being lucky at most. 

Everyone starts walking in, the class is filled with chatter and still the seat next to you is empty. Class starts in exactly one minute, it looks like you got lucky with this one. Allowing your attention to be soaked up by the teacher, introducing herself, you miss how someone sneakily got into the seat next to you. 

Feeling a presence, it doesn't take you long to turn your head to see who it is. And of course the luck didn't last long, here he was in all his glory. King Steve sat perched on the stool next to you, messing with his hair and setting down his backpack. Nothing is being taken out and he looks rushed. 

Trying to look around for any other empty seats, but they were all taken. The teacher started yelling out names for attendance and afterwards let the class know that the seats you are in are the ones you'll be in for the rest of the year. You’re quick to drop your head into your hands and Steve takes notice of it. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You are surprised he would even bother to care but maybe you look ill and he probably doesn't want to be near someone like that. It is hard for you to wrap your head around it and all this thinking makes you pause. 

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You nod.  It comes out after a few seconds which definitely doesn't help your case. 

The thought that he doesn't even think the reaction was about him tells you pretty much all you need to know. But thankfully he doesn't ask you anything more, the rest of the class is the teacher speaking and for once you’re grateful for it. 

–

During lunch you were quick to inform your friends that your first period of the day would be shared with Steve Harrington and the sad looks you got made it all worse. It wasnt that you hated Steve, his charm got him through every door and if we were being real he didn't hurt to look at either. It was no surprise why so many girls tried to get with him but in a class you're not someone Steves going after. If anything he was gonna ask for your homework to copy and because you have no backbone you’d probably give it to him. 

So truthfully Steve wasn’t some bad guy, he was just bad for you. 

And each day Steve came in he was almost late to class. Watching the clock has become somewhat of a fun game for you, waiting to see what time he gets here each day. Some days he arrives with 30 seconds to spare before he's officially late. Others make it with a full 50 seconds remaining. And each time he sits next to you he offers a small smile. It wouldn’t be weird if it was anyone else doing this, however, this was Steve we were talking about. Steve who sleeps with a new girl each week and only thinks with the, rumored 8 inches?, in his pants. 

Still, always being polite, you give him a smile back. It never lasts long and your body always turns back to the teacher but it’s still there. This is what Steve holds onto. But if you knew the things he was saying about you to Tommy your face would turn bright red. 

–

“She barely even looks at me. Like did I turn ugly overnight?” Steve asks dramatically. He's eating lunch with his friends and for some reason you aren't throwing yourself his way. It’s not like Steve necessarily wants that but he’s surprised it isn't happening. 

“Maybe she’s already dating someone else?” Tommy asks, digging into his burger like he hasn't eaten in days.

“Nah I already asked Carol and she said she was single. I swear I give her smiles and each time she turns away.” Why wouldn't you talk to him? Steve thought his super power was being able to make anyone like him. He was just that type of guy, likeable, fun, easy to talk to. And here you were writing him off like he was some loser. 

“I dunno man.” Steve sighs as Tommy talks with food stuffed in his mouth. “She could like the other gender.” He says with brows raised, the last part comes out in a low voice like it was some scary secret.

Maybe Steve should have just kept the topic between him and Carol. He needs a plan to talk to you. Something about the way he knows nothing about you makes him all the more intrigued. He had completely missed your name during roll call on the first day of school, the teacher doesn't even do it anymore. Which in any other case would mean that Steves skipping the class, but he couldn't, because then he’d miss you. 

–

The next few weeks Steve tries more and more to up the conversation between the two of you. You’re often quick to cut it short or give clipped answers. Neither help Steve and his mission to befriend you, or at the very least get to know you. 

When he got to class he gave you the classic Steve Harrington smile and the one you gave back made his heart skip a beat. It always did. Now Steve hasn't said it outloud but you were someone he could see himself falling for. Your long hair matches so nicely with the pretty smile you flash. And the way your bra sometimes pokes out from your shirt is never lost on him. 

Class was boring so far, all the teacher had talked about was some book stuff, Steve had zoned out for most of it. But then hands were being raised and that was quick to wake him up. The teacher was pointed at tables to group up and you and Steve had been paired together. Apparently there's a group project due for the midterm. Each pair had to make a presentation and Steve’s smile was big. This was his moment to talk to you, maybe even get you out of this school for dinner or something. You however looked a little less happy than Steve. Over the few weeks you’d grown to unfortunately not hate him. He was nice to you despite all the horrible things you've heard from other girls. Maybe it was all gossip or maybe you just had to wait for the right moment for him to use you and move on. This group project seemed like the right moment for that, forcing you to do the work and slap his name on it. Sounded convenient. 

Although what really surprised you was when Steve came up to you during lunch. You were completely unaware as your back was facing his table but the wide eyes from your friends made you turn around. 

“Hey Steve.” You say kindly but still a hint of shock in your voice. 

“Hey! So, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come by my place to start working on the project? I know we have a few weeks but I think it would be good to get an overall idea of what we want to do.” He tries to make it come out with confidence but with all these eyes on him he stumbles. 

Your eyes only grew wider as you looked back at your friends as if they could tell you what to say. Barely a month of school has gone by and it started with you never having a word with Steve to now you going to his house. To say you were shocked is an understatement. 

“Okay, yeah, we can do that. Could you write down your address for me?” You ask while simultaneously grabbing a pen and paper.

Steve tries to write neatly but his chicken scratch still comes through. It's legible and really that's all that matters. 

“So how does Saturday at 12 work?” Steve asks once he's done. 

“12pm on Saturday works perfectly.” You smile. He gives you a nod and waves a small goodbye ending the conversation there. He hopes that when you're at his place you’ll feel more open to talk or Steve will feel more open to keep the conversation going. 

–

Saturday comes sooner than expected. With school starting back up so does homework and for some reason they are drowning you in it. Barely any room for down time the weekend is like a breath of fresh air. You can finally sleep in and be lazy. Well, you would be if you didn't have to go to Steves. Speaking of your room is a mess from you trying to find an outfit. Not wanting to come off too casual but also not wanting to look like every  other girl that threw themselves at him.

The drive to his house was short and it took you a second to actually get past the anxiety of knocking on his door. With all the courage you could muster, you gently knock on the large door which Steve is quick to open and greet you with a big smile. 

“Hey sweetheart, perfect timing I just got some snacks for us all ready to go. You can come in.” He says waving his hand towards him, signaling to walk. 

You hope he can't see the way the pet name affected you. He’s never called you that before, maybe he doesn't even know he did it. 

Shutting the door behind you Steve places a small hand on your back to guide you through his large house. 

“It’s all still in the kitchen, I just need to bring it over here.” He says bringing you both to the kitchen. 

“Are your parents home?” You ask looking around for them.

“No, they are gone for the week on some business trip.” 

You give him a small ‘oh ok’ as you help with the bowls of food. One has chips, the other has cookies, and the last one has grapes. 

“I didn’t know which you’d like so I just thought all three could be nice.” The gesture is sweet, and he's right, they all look good. 

Placing all three bowls on the table in the living room he sits on the couch and you follow through with the same action. He grabs a grape and pops it in his mouth. 

“Can you catch a grape?” He asks, he’s doing a lot of the talking but you don’t really know what to say. Too shy to start a conversation that may lead nowhere.

“No, but I don't think I've ever tried.” Steve can see that you're even more timid outside of school than you were in school. A new territory doesn't bring you out of your shell. 

“It’s pretty easy. When you throw it just follow the grape with your eyes and then once it comes down catch it!” He throws the grape into the air and catches it with ease. You can’t help but wonder if he's trying to impress you with these little tricks. 

You throw a grape into the air and move your head towards it with an open mouth but it lands in your lap. 

Embarrassed with your fail, you pop it quickly into your mouth. It is a crunchy grape and super sweet at the same time. It must be nice to be rich and have nice grapes, you think. 

“Here throw and I'll catch.” Steve says handing you a grape. 

“You just saw my throw, I don’t know how good this’ll be.” Your brows are furrowed and Steve laughs. 

“You got this, c'mon I’ll catch it I promise. Won't let you down.” His head is thrown back and he has a steady eye on the grape in your hand. 

He’s so locked in and ready it makes you smile. Doing what he asked, you turn to face him and throw it in the air. It’s not exactly far enough which makes Steve pull himself forward. He catches it but not without his hands landing on either side of your thighs, a little close in your personal space. 

He doesn't move his position as he crunches down on the fruit. “See? Told you I’d get it.” The smirk that appears on his face is evident and you fight everything in you not to inspect every mole on his face. 

“You wanna try?” He asks, still not moving. Why isn't he moving? 

“I think I’d do even worse.” You respond shyly. Steve isn’t in love with all this negative self-talk; he needs to do something about it. 

“You just threw a grape and it was great. There's no hurt in trying right?” You aren't sure why he's filled with compliments for you but whatever he’s doing is working. Each word pumps you with confidence and you agree to do it. 

“Just try and copy what I did, eyes on the grape, lean to wherever it goes, and boom you got it.” He states simply. 

You can't help but roll your eyes at his explanation. It obviously wasn't as easy as he's making it out to be and the embarrassment from your first try is still in you. 

“Ok grumpy, ready?” Steve says light-heartedly with a laugh. 

“Just throw it Harrington.” You say tilting your head back, getting serious. 

You’ve never called him that before and Steve can’t say he hates the way it sounds coming from your lips. The serious tone doing wonders for him he almost forgot your demand. 

Following through, he throws it and you lean out a little and catch it. It’s perfect for your first try and Steve’s loud cheer is proof of it. 

“You did it!” He says all smiley.

“I did it!” You’re on your knees now with fists up in the air. Your laugh fills up the room and Steve thinks it might be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

“Do you wanna try with a chip?” Steve asks, he really just wants to sit and talk. 

“As good as I am at this newfound skill, I think we should probably get started on the project.” You say biting into a cookie. Steve nods in agreement, he’s probably being a bad partner right now but he doesn't really care too much. 

“So what did you have in mind?” He asks. You’re leaning your head against the cushion of the couch and eating a cookie he made just for today. His heart might devastatingly break if he doesn't get to kiss you sometime soon. 

“I don’t even know, I think maybe doing it on one of the required books could make it easy?’ 

“Okay smarty pants, that's a great idea.” Steve says, poking a finger into your hip. It tickles which makes you giggle. “That way when we have to read the book we’ll already understand it.” He finishes and you're still smiling from the complement. 

“Exactly! We can kill two birds with one stone.” You’re done with your cookie and it’s as if Steve could read your mind and he hands you another one. 

“We need to go to the store to pick up all the supplies. Along with the books, you think she’d lend us some copies early?” He asks, thinking about how stubborn the teacher is. 

The thought of Steve already planning another meet up for you two makes your body feel like it's on fire. It’s obvious that you would need to see him again for the project but now you’re going out shopping with him. 

“I think she would if she knew it was for the project. If all else fails add the library to the list after the store.” 

It falls silent after that, the plan fully set and now it’s just a fight of who asks who. Steve doesn't want you to go and if he asked, you would say the same. An hour and a half has already passed but it feels like you’ve been here for 10 minutes. But the sun is setting and you did tell your parents you’d be home at a certain time. 

“Steve, what time is it?” You say it gently, not wanting it to come off like you're dying to leave or something. 

He quickly glances at the watch on his wrist and tells you it’s 6pm. You know your family is waiting on you to eat dinner but the feeling of leaving Steve here all alone makes your heart physically ache. 

“What are you doing for dinner?” 

“Oh, um maybe mac and cheese? I dunno, I have to go shopping. My parents barely left me with anything.” He says it with a laugh at the end, he doesn't want to sound pathetic. 

“Would you like to come to mine and eat dinner with me?” This is a bold move coming from you and Steve knows it. Which is exactly why he thinks it's all just a pity move. 

“Oh, no, no I don't want to impose on your family dinner. I swear it’s all good I’m used to it when my parents are gone.” 

You let out a small huff. You’re not great at asking for things like this and he’s not taking the hint as easily as you’d hoped. 

“I am trying to invite you because I want to hang out more, Steve.” Maybe the direct approach will work, you’re already this far into asking. But still your head is hanging low in case of any rejection. 

“Oh.” It’s all he says.

“Okay nevermind. Thanks for having me.” You’re quick to grab for your shoes and get up but Steve places a hand on your thigh before you fully get off the couch.

“No, that's not, I didn't mean it like that.” His hand is still burning on your thigh. “I just didn’t think you liked me that much.” 

Your eyes soften and guilt starts biting at you. “I do like you. I just didn’t know you, I guess.” The shrug you give is paired with a small hand on top of his own, still resting on your thigh. 

Normally Steve would make a joke about how you ‘like like him’ but he doesn't. Because you're not some girl he plays around with, and to gain your trust is something Steve is ready to fight for. Which means he's gonna go about this in the right way, no cutting corners, nothing to make you think this is a one time fling. 

Which is why he declines your extremely sweet invite. Steve will meet your family when you can proudly talk about him across the table to your parents. He’s not gonna be some boy you bring home but someone who will come over when the time is right. 

Before you leave Steve gives you his number and for the next few nights you two talk for hours. Only hanging up when your mom calls you down for dinner. It’s nice learning all these things about Steve, each fact fighting against the awful rumors being told about him. And with each time you two meet up to work on the project, the less school work gets done and the more flirting comes out. You’re getting braver and Steves getting softer, a perfect pair. 

It’s never a lazy complement or a small hug. It’s only ever full of passion and heartfelt. You learn that Steve can’t keep his hands off you, always one on your thigh or tangled with your own, he is ridiculously generous with the compliments, and never fails to call you something deathly sweet. 

The shyness within you fades as your bubbly personality shines, Steve can only be enamored by you. And he isn't afraid to show it during your first period together. Each day the two of you get closer and closer and soon enough Steve is able to go to that family dinner as you introduce him as your boyfriend.

[simplygojo]

Cheater! ⸺ Suguru Geto

author's note ⸺ Wrote a cheating fic!! WHOOPS! lmk your thoughts on this!! I hope you all enjoy cheating on your deadbeat husband with your daughters sexy ass teacher <3 pairing ⸺ teacher!Suguru Geto x parent!reader word count ⸺ 4k content warnings ⸺ 18+ only - mdni!, adultery!, grey morals, reader uses female pronouns, reader has a vagina, fingering, p in v intercourse, nipple play, rough grip?idk, not edited teaser ⸺ "You’re a married woman, after all. You’re loyal, and I respect that. But..." He pauses, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the hint of something far more dangerous in his eyes. "It would be wrong of me to let you leave here tonight without telling you... that you deserve more than this. You deserve to feel wanted, to feel desired." Something inside you snaps.

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Your husband wasn’t always like this.

Or maybe he was, and you just didn’t notice it at first.

There was a time when you believed in the love you shared—the way he used to pull you close without needing a reason, the way he promised that no matter what, it would always be both of you against the world. And for a while, it felt real. Then life happened. Then the baby came.

And slowly, little by little, you started doing everything alone.

At first, it was small things. He worked late, so you handled bedtime. He forgot to grab the groceries, so you took care of it. He stayed home when your child had a fever, but somehow, you were the one up all night, holding them while they cried.

Then, the little things became everything.

You started managing schedules, meals, school functions, doctor’s appointments, PTA meetings—every single thing that kept your child’s world turning.

And your husband? He was there, technically. He existed in the house, he took up space in the bed, but he was more like an afterthought in your life than a partner.

You’d hear other moms talk about how they split responsibilities with their husbands—how he got up for night feedings, how he packed lunches in the morning, how they took turns being the “fun parent” so the other could have a break.

You stopped talking in those conversations.

Because what would you even say?

That your husband doesn’t even know your child’s teacher’s name? That you’ve gone to every parent-teacher night alone for the past three years? That sometimes, when you wake up next to him, you feel more alone than if the bed was empty?

You tried to fix it. You really did. You asked him to come to school events—he always had an excuse. You asked him to help with homework—he’d forget. You asked him if he was happy—he shrugged.

And eventually, you just stopped asking.

Instead, you did what you always did: you handled it.

You got up every morning and made breakfast. You checked backpacks, signed permission slips, scheduled playdates. You listened when your 6 year old came home talking about her day. You made sure they felt loved, seen, safe. You gave them everything you never had.

And you told yourself, this was enough.

You told yourself you didn’t need to feel wanted.

You told yourself you didn’t need someone to look at you the way that he used to.

You told yourself you didn’t need more than this—but you knew that none of that was true. 

The clock ticks past 9 PM. The school halls are eerily quiet now, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights, casting long shadows along the walls. It’s well past the usual time for parent-teacher conferences, and once again, you’re the last parent left.

The usual scenario.

You check your phone for the fifth time—no texts, no calls. Your husband’s absence from this school event doesn’t surprise you anymore, but it still stings in ways you can’t shake. There’s a lingering resentment there, buried beneath the routine, hidden in the cracks of your patience.

You tap your foot against the tiled floor, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. It’s been a long day of running from work to school pick-up, to soccer practice, to dinner, to bedtime—only for your husband to still be nowhere to be found. 

He’s present physically, but emotionally? Mentally? Nowhere.

You’ve long since stopped asking him to show up at these meetings, to participate in the day-to-day, to even make an effort. You’ve grown used to doing it all, but some nights, like tonight, the weight of it feels like too much. 

The door to the classroom finally opens.

And there he is. Suguru Geto.

His eyes soften when he sees you standing alone in the hallway. It’s nearly 9:30 now, and he has that gentle look on his face, the one he always wears when he’s speaking with you. There’s a warmth there, but tonight, you can’t help but feel like he’s been watching you for longer than you realize.

"You’re the last one," Suguru says, his voice smooth and calm, as though he’s already made peace with the late hour. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

You offer a tired smile, trying to mask the fatigue that’s clearly weighing on you. "It’s no problem," you say. "I’m just used to it."

He steps aside to let you into the classroom.

The soft glow of the desk lamps and the smell of chalk and paper fill the air as you sit down, the worn-out chair creaking slightly under your weight. Suguru takes his usual spot at the desk, but instead of diving into the paperwork, he looks at you with a level of attention that makes you feel like the only person in the room.

“Everything going okay?” He asks, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of concern. You think he’s been asking you that for weeks now, and for weeks, you’ve given the same nonchalant answer.

“Yeah, just the usual,” you reply, keeping your gaze steady on the desk in front of you. “Busy. You know how it is.”

Suguru nods, but his eyes don’t leave you. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you feel exposed, like he sees more than just the tired mom who’s barely holding it together. He watches you as if he’s picking up on the subtle cracks in your composure, the ones you’ve been trying to hide for so long.

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru says, his voice steady, yet his eyes seem to soften with understanding. “You’re here for every parent meeting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your husband at one.”

You stiffen slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. Of course, Suguru would notice. He’s always been observant, always so aware of the details. He’s never commented on it before, but the fact that he does now makes something inside you ache.

Your gaze flickers to the side, focusing on anything but him.

“Well,” you start, your voice quieter than usual, “he’s always… busy with work.”

Suguru’s gaze doesn’t falter. “I get it,” he says, his voice even, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. "Work can be demanding."

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, and you try to laugh it off. “Yeah, it’s just... me, really. I handle everything at home, too.”

There’s a long pause as Suguru silently assesses you. His eyes narrow slightly, not in judgment, but in a way that makes you feel seen. Really seen.

“You’ve been doing it all alone for a while, haven’t you?” He asks it softly, like a statement more than a question.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You swallow, the pressure in your chest growing heavier. It’s not like you haven’t noticed it yourself. You’ve been doing this on your own for a while now—balancing everything, carrying the weight of your family’s responsibilities while your husband remains detached. But hearing Suguru say it, hearing him acknowledge it, makes you feel more vulnerable than you care to admit.

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze as your throat tightens.

"Doesn’t seem fair, does it?" Suguru continues, his voice still calm, but his eyes darken ever so slightly, an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You don’t know how to respond. All you can do is sit there, feeling the weight of his words hang in the air between you.

“Sometimes, people don’t realize what it means to be present,” Suguru murmurs, his tone laced with something more than just professional concern.

And in that moment, you realize just how much you crave someone to acknowledge the effort you’ve been putting in—to see you as more than just a mother, more than just someone who’s keeping everything together by sheer force of will.

The silence stretches between you two, but Suguru doesn’t look away. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re on the verge of saying something that you definitely shouldn’t.

The weight of Suguru's gaze is palpable, drawing you in like a magnetic force. For the first time, you're not looking for validation from the outside world, from your husband or anyone else. You’re looking at him, and his presence seems to fill the entire room, suffocating yet somehow liberating.

"Sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, all of it. The constant doing, the giving... but it’s never enough. It feels like I’m just... waiting. For someone to notice. For someone to... care."

Suguru’s expression shifts, and he leans in just slightly, as though he’s pulled by some invisible thread. There’s something in his eyes that’s far from the calm teacher you’ve known. It’s deeper, darker—filled with a quiet understanding that makes the air between you both thick with unspoken emotions.

"You deserve more than that," he murmurs, his voice low, almost intimate. “You deserve someone who sees you. Not just the mother, not just the wife. But you.”

You take a shallow breath, feeling the rush of emotions swirl inside you. 

You’ve heard those words before, but from him, they hit differently. The way he’s looking at you, the way his words seem to reach right inside you, it’s too much to ignore.

Without thinking, your gaze flickers down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. And you see it then—the shift. The barely perceptible tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders tense as if he’s fighting some invisible current pulling him toward you.

You stand abruptly, the sudden movement shaking you from the haze of desire that had slowly clouded your mind. Your pulse races in your ears, and you feel a rush of heat flood your face, the intensity of the moment unsettling you.

You attempt to gather yourself, your mind a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. 

“Is there... anything my daughter needs to work on—uh, outside of school?” You ask, your voice lacking the usual certainty, the question tumbling out awkwardly as if to distract yourself from what’s happening between you.

Suguru stands slowly from his chair, the chair legs scraping against the floor as he glides around the desk with measured steps, his gaze never leaving you. Every movement of his feels deliberate, calculated, and yet somehow fluid, like he’s in complete control of the space around you.

He comes to stand directly in front of you, just close enough that his presence fills the air, thick and charged with an undeniable tension. 

You can’t help but notice the way his body moves, the subtle power in the way he stands, shoulders broad, chest rising and falling in time with his deep, steady breaths.

“Your daughter?” Suguru repeats, the corners of his lips curling up slightly as he leans in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “You’re not really thinking about her right now, are you?”

You want to pull away, to say something, anything that could snap you out of this, but his presence is overwhelming, and your body betrays you with every passing second.

"I..." you try to say something, anything to pull yourself together, but the words falter in your throat. The part of you that knows better, the part of you that remembers you’re married and committed to someone else, is struggling to assert itself. 

But the other part of you, the one that’s been ignored for so long, is screaming to be heard, to finally feel seen, to be touched like how he could touch you, to have someone care.

Suguru watches you carefully, sensing the internal conflict as his fingers twitch at his sides. He takes a small step closer, his hand brushing against your arm just lightly enough to send a ripple of heat through your skin.

"I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do," he says softly, his voice almost a caress. 

You notice the way his body towers over yours, his broad chest just inches from yours, making you feel small in comparison. The warmth of him radiates against your skin, and it’s hard not to notice how much bigger and stronger he is than you. 

The sharp, intoxicating scent of his cologne wraps around you like a blanket, mingling with the faint trace of cigarette smoke that clings to him, adding a dangerous edge to the allure of his presence. 

It’s impossible to ignore how every inch of him feels commanding, even in the way he stands so close to you.

"You’re a married woman, after all. You’re loyal, and I respect that. But..." 

He pauses, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the hint of something far more dangerous in his eyes. "It would be wrong of me to let you leave here tonight without telling you... that you deserve more than this. You deserve to feel wanted, to feel desired."

Something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, the loneliness, the months—years—of feeling like you married a bum who couldn’t give a damn about you. 

Or maybe it’s the way Suguru is looking at you now, those sharp dark eyes, like he already knows how this is going to end, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re in each other’s space, the tension breaking like a dam. 

His mouth is on yours, firm and demanding, swallowing the sharp, needy gasp that escapes you as his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers find the front of his black button-up, fisting the fabric like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. His lips part against yours, a low sound vibrating in his throat when you arch into him.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, sliding down to your hips, fingers pressing in like he needs to memorize the feel of you beneath them. He walks you backward with slow, deliberate steps, forcing you to move with him, until the edge of his desk digs into the backs of your thighs.

A sharp inhale is all you manage before he lifts you effortlessly, his hands gripping your hips as he hoists you onto the desk.

He steps between your legs, crowding you, his breath hot against your lips. His hands spread over your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he tugs you forward, drawing you closer with a grip that’s firm, possessive. 

One hand drifts upward, sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers curling there as he tilts your head back slightly, deepening the kiss with a slow, consuming hunger.

“This is what you need, isn’t it?” Suguru murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “Someone to take care of you for once?”

You nodded weakly in response, your breath hitching as you let his mouth roam yours.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and the low groan he lets out makes heat pool deep in your stomach. He presses himself between your legs, the firm drag of his body against yours making you gasp into his mouth.

Suguru breathes against your lips, his voice a low rasp as he rolls his hips into yours, just enough for you to feel how hard he is through the fabric of his slacks. "Feels good, doesn’t it?"

A soft whimper slips past your lips before you can silence it, your nails grazing his scalp as you clutch him closer. 

His response—a low, guttural mix of a groan and a growl—rumbles against you, sending a sharp jolt of heat through your body.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, slow and deliberate, his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin until he reaches the hem of your skirt. His touch is light, teasing, his fingertips barely skimming beneath the fabric before he grips the material and pushes it up, baring more of you to him.

"You’ve been running yourself ragged, haven’t you?" Suguru murmurs, his lips moving to your jaw, trailing heat along your skin as he speaks. "Taking care of everyone else while no one takes care of you."

His other hand stays firm at the back of your neck, keeping you exactly where he wants you as his lips drag lower, grazing over your pulse point before he nips at the sensitive skin just enough to make you gasp.

His fingers, deft and sure, find the first button of your blouse. He flicks it open with ease, then another, and another—each one undone with deliberate precision, as if savoring the act of peeling away the layers you’ve hidden beneath for so long.

"And all this time," he continues, his voice like silk laced with something darker, "you’ve been aching for someone to touch you like this."

You should push him away, should tell him this is wrong, but when his teeth scrape lightly against your throat and his fingers slide higher, your resolve shatters completely.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, though his grip on you says he already knows you won’t.

Instead, you tilt your head back, baring your throat to him in silent invitation. A satisfied hum rumbles from his chest as his hand finally finds the heat between your legs, fingers pressing against the thin fabric covering you.

As he pops open the final button, the fabric parts, slipping from your shoulders as he slides the blouse down your arms, letting it pool behind you on the desk. 

His gaze darkens as he drinks you in, his thumb brushing against the newly exposed skin, tracing slow, lazy circles over your collarbone before dipping lower.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he feels how soaked you already are. His fingers flex, teasing over the damp fabric, and when you arch into his touch, he exhales a shaky breath. "You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?"

Your hips jerk instinctively, chasing the friction, but he pulls his hand back just enough to keep it out of reach.

"Be patient," Suguru murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he presses down even further on your panties. "I’m going to make this so fucking good for you."

And when his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding your bare skin, you realize—he’s going to ruin you.

A shaky breath stutters from your lips as he works you open, his fingers sinking deeper, curling just right. The sensation is almost too much, a slow, aching pleasure that makes your stomach tighten, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Does this feel good..?" He breathes against your mouth, his voice laced with something tender, something reverent. "Because you fuckin’ deserve it."

You barely register his other hand moving until you feel the warmth of his palm smoothing up your stomach, then higher, slipping beneath the lace of your bra. His thumb drags over your nipple, a soft, teasing brush that sends a shudder rolling down your spine.

You gasp into his mouth, your body arching into him as his fingers press deeper inside you, a slow, deliberate stroke that has your thighs trembling around his waist.

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that sweet, aching spot inside you, and the cry that leaves you is swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you deeper, his tongue sweeping over yours in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

The slow, insistent roll of his fingers inside you has you spiraling, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and when his thumb finds your clit, circling with just enough pressure, your breath stutters, a choked whimper slipping past your lips.

His thumb strokes over your nipple again, this time pinching lightly, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, and the sensation sparks through you like a live wire. Your hands clutch at his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as a sharp gasp escapes you. 

The dual sensation—his fingers working you open with slow, deliberate strokes while his other hand teases your breast—has your body arching into him, desperate for more.

Suguru chuckles, low and pleased, his lips brushing against your jaw. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, giving your nipple another slow roll between his fingers before soothing the sting with a warm, open-mouthed kiss against your throat.

Your head tips back against the desk, thighs trembling around his waist. “Suguru—” you gasp, a desperate plea wrapped in his name.

He groans in response, the sound low and wrecked, vibrating against your skin. His fingers retreat suddenly, leaving you empty, and you whimper at the loss. But before you can protest, he’s shifting, straightening up between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs caressing the side of your cheek, his voice thick and warm against your kiss-swollen lips. His fingers find the waistband of your underwear, hooking into it as he tugs the fabric down, his knuckles brushing against your thighs as he bares you to him.

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, filled with something deep, something hungry—but there’s tenderness there too, something almost reverent as he takes you in.

His hands smooth over your thighs, parting them further as he shifts between them, his own clothes rustling as he undoes his belt, his zipper—getting ready to help you where you need him most.

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, low and fervent, his fingers curling around your thighs, hiking them up just a bit as he lines himself up. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

And then—he pushes inside, stretching you, filling you, tearing a gasp from your lips as your fingers claw at his shoulders.

His mouth finds yours again, swallowing your moans, his pace already deep, deliberate—like he’s set on making you feel every inch of him, making sure you know exactly what it means to be wanted.

Suguru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he lifts them higher, angling you just how he wants, and then—he drives into you, deep and unrelenting. 

Every roll of his hips knocks the air from your lungs, every deep, deliberate thrust sends another ripple of heat cascading through you.

You can barely think, barely breathe, your mind foggy with the heady mix of desire and disbelief—disbelief that this is happening, that you let it happen, that it feels so impossibly, devastatingly good.

Suguru groans low in his throat, his grip tightening, his fingers pressing bruises into your thighs as he holds you exactly where he wants you, giving you exactly what you needed. 

His lips brush against your jaw, his voice dark and hushed when he murmurs, "Not so bad for a parent-teacher meeting, hmm?"

The desk creaks beneath you, the sharp edge digging into your back, but you barely register it over the heat flooding your veins, over the way he stretches you, fills you, drags pleasure from you with every purposeful thrust.

Your fingers claw at his shirt, desperate to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensation. His name spills from your lips in a breathless gasp, your body arching into him, chasing more, more, more—

"That's it," he murmurs, voice rough, almost reverent. "Taking me so well."

His hands pull your legs even further up, deepening his angel, holding you open as he moves harder, faster, his breath hot against your cheek. The sharp, rhythmic press of him inside you has you unraveling, pleasure curling tight in your core, so close you can taste it, so close you can feel yourself slipping—

And then?

Well.

You never complained about going to parent-teacher meetings alone again.

a/n ⸺ I may or may not already have half of a choso version drafted if anyone wants to see that PLS LET ME KNOW

[dazevi]

CHAPTER TWO: BY YOUR SIDE

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: vi returns to her childhood home, overwhelmed by the past. vander encourages her to attend a wedding. and when you cross paths again, vi tries to do whatever she can to find a way back into your life.

content warnings: MDNI. angst, suggestive content, rockstar!vi, writer!reader, bookshop owner!reader, eventual exes to lovers, no smut yet, sexual tension, vi is looking respectfully, jaymel cameo, bestfriend!mel, mentions of alcohol and smoking, profanity, awkward reunion, mmm idk what im missing but lmk !

wc: 13,144

note: sorry for the wait! this chapter feels a little more like a build-up chapter but can’t wait to upload the later chapters ahhh !!! (fanart by bunimint_ on ig)

navigation | series masterlist | previous chapter

Vi stood in the doorway of her old bedroom, the strap of her guitar case digging into her shoulder. The house smelled the same—faintly of laundry detergent and the old wooden floors her mom used to obsessively polish when she was a kid.

It hadn’t changed, not a single thing about it.

The same pale red walls, the same band posters sloppily pinned up in the corners, curling at the edges with age. Her bed still sat against the wall beneath the window, the same worn quilt folded neatly at the edge like her mom still expected her to crawl into it every night. Even her desk was untouched, cluttered with textbooks and notebooks she hadn’t opened since she was eighteen, the pages frozen in time like she had only stepped out for a moment, not years.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes swept over the room, the memories that rushed back into her mind made her knees feel weak.

Late nights scribbling in her notebooks about songs she was too afraid to share with anyone, the afternoons spent sprawled across the bed on the phone with you, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She could almost hear your voice now, laughing softly as she played a chord wrong on her guitar, only for her to insist it was intentional because she claimed it was experimental.

Vi swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase.

She hated how small the room felt now, how it seemed to mock her. It once belonged to the girl she used to be—the girl who thought she had everything figured out, the girl who couldn’t wait to leave this town behind.

Now it felt like it was waiting to swallow her whole.

She set her suitcase down by the bed and eased the guitar case off her shoulder, placing it gently against the wall. She looked over to the corner of the room, and stepped up to her the older one, a faded acoustic with stickers all over the body, just resting against her desk. Her fingers brushed against the neck of the guitar—it was the same one she played since high school, the same one she used to play for you.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled Vi out of her thoughts, her head snapping up as she turned her head.

Vander stood there, leaning slightly against the wood, his massive arms crossed over his chest in that familiar way that always seemed to say everything’s fine, kid. He wore a faint smile, though his eyes were saying something else—relief, maybe, or concern. She wasn’t sure.

“Didn’t touch anything while you were gone,” he said, and chuckled lightly. “Figured I’d let you do that when you got back.”

Vi let out a breath, her lips twitching into the smallest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She ran a hand over the back of her neck, trying to brush away some of the tension that had settled there since stepping out of the airport.

“Yeah, uh… thanks,” she mumbled, but it was quieter than she meant it to be.

Vander stepped inside, his boots heavy against the floorboards, and leaned against the edge of her desk like he used to when she was a teenager. Back then, he’d perch there with his arms crossed, asking about her day, actually try to help with her homework or teasing her for the mess she insisted wasn’t actually a mess.

Now, he stood there quietly, taking her in like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

“Thought you’d want it that way. You always hated when people moved your stuff.”

“Yeah,” she said.

He smiled a little at the memory, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a notebook she hadn’t touched in years.

“Powder’s coming home later in two weeks for break. Been pretty busy with all that college stuff.” He says. “And as much as I love having you back home… everything alright with that fancy job of yours?

“Our, uh, manager thinks the band needs a break… from work… and touring nonstop, so…” Vi trailed off, her voice faint. “Ekko’s prety happy about it. He missed Benzo a lot.”

Vander didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded slowly, his eyes soft, as if he already knew that there was more going on her mind. She wasn’t talking about just the band. She was talking about everything. The constant noise that came into her life, the rush of being in the spotlight that made it hard to even breathe sometimes. The exhaustion that had piled up too, unnoticed, over the years.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair, fingers brushing the silver chain that hung around her neck, tugging it out from under her shirt.

“Well, Benzo is a huge fan, as you know,” Vander continued, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Won’t stop talking about you guys. Keeps showing off posters Ekko sends in the mail.”

Vi’s lips curved upwards, a soft laugh slipping out. Benzo always supported the band even way before they became one, since she and Ekko were kids, playing with glasses of water, a small keyboard and buckets flipped over to drum on them.

She remembered the first time they’d played at his diner, the crowd just a few regulars, and Benzo grinning like the proudest uncle. He’d been the first to show up with his camera, asking for a picture of the band.

“You guys are going to make it big,” he’d said, without any hint of doubt in his voice.

“I should really go down there and see him… check up on Ekko, too,” Vi muttered, almost to herself. “His birthday’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.”

Then, she looked out the window instinctively, like she always used to, and her eyes lingered on the house across the street. She could almost hear the sound of your soft voice, echoing in her mind like it had never left. She could imagine you inside, just going about your day, living your life without her.

She couldn’t stop staring at it, even though a part of her knew she shouldn’t. And yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

She couldn’t stop herself from wondering, wondering what you were doing now, how you were feeling. Did you still think about her? The same way she thought about you? Were you with someone else now?

No, she… Vi didn’t want to think about that.

“Are you going to that wedding?” Vander’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She blinked, turning slightly to face him.

He continued, “Got a letter invite a couple weeks back, but I’m sure Jayce already let you know about it.”

A wedding. She had heard about it from Jayce, of course. Mel and Jayce were getting married. But she hadn’t really thought about it in the way she should have.

You’d probably be there.

And the thought of going, of seeing you again, made her stomach flip. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face you after everything. Three years. But it felt like it had been a lifetime. She couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to be there, to see you, but another part of her feared what it would mean, of what would happen.

She shifted on her feet, glancing back out the window at the house one more time, as if it could give her the answer she was looking for.

“I don’t know yet,” Vi finally replied, her voice softer than she intended.

“Well it might be good to go see—”

“I said I don’t know.”

The tone of her own voice shocked herself.

“Sorry.”

Vander’s gaze softened as he looked at her. Her gaze lingered on the house across the street, her eyes tracing the outline of the familiar windows, the same one she used to sneak into to get to your bedroom in the middle of the night just because she just wanted to kiss you, and the same porch where she used to sit with you, long into the evening, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Fuck. She couldn’t help herself.

“Is… is she still living over there?” she asked quietly, almost like she was afraid to hear the answer.

Vander glanced over, a small frown pulling at his lips as he followed her gaze toward the house. He paused for a moment, thinking, before responding with a soft shrug.

“No, she… moved out a couple of years ago,” he said. “Her mother mentioned an apartment somewhere downtown.”

For a moment, Vi stood there, her mind racing. She tried to picture you in this new place—your own apartment, a life carved out without her in it.

She didn’t speak right away. Her mind was too full, too clouded by everything she had tried to push aside. She’d been running for so long, keeping herself distracted with music, with the band, with anything that kept her from what she had left behind.

“Well, I’ve gotta get to work,” Vander says, walking past her and stopping in the doorway for a moment. “By the way, even if you don’t want my input on it, I really think you should go to that wedding. Better than being cooped up in here the whole time… Besides, I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

He stops by the doorframe, turning around then tossing something small and metallic over to her, which she catches with ease.

Car keys.

“Also, got that truck of yours fixed up when I heard you were coming back. Would be nice for it to get back on the road.”

Then he left.

Vi stood in there silently, watching as Vander walked out. She wasn’t sure what to make of it at first—he was always the type to be blunt, to offer advice that, whether she wanted it or not, often felt like the truth.

She stared down at the car keys in her hand, her thumb tracing the familiar grooves of the key to her old pickup truck—the one she’d spent an entire summer fixing up in Vander’s garage when she was sixteen. It had been her pride and joy, her freedom on four wheels.

She could still feel the way the leather seat would stick to her thighs on hot summer days, how she’d leave the windows rolled down because the AC had never quite worked right. She remembered the smell of grease that never really left the upholstery, no matter how much air freshener she hung from the rearview mirror.

But mostly, she remembered you.

Nights spent parked in that same old truck at night, your laughter mingling with the chirping crickets in the warm air. She could still feel the ghost of your hands on her face, your lips against hers in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. She remembered the way you’d pull her closer, your fingers curling into the collar of her shirt, as if you couldn’t stand even the smallest gap between you.

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she remembered another one—the two of you sneaking into the drive-in theater just outside of town. The projector’s flickering light had barely held her attention, not when you were sitting there next to her, your head resting on her shoulder, your hand absentmindedly playing with the hem of her shirt. She’d pretended to watch the movie, but all she could focus on was the sound of your breathing and the way you smelled.

You spent lots of your time in there with her. After school, after curfews, after everything.

She’d taught you how to shift gears in it, though you’d been hopelessly terrible at it, and she hadn’t minded one bit. You’d laugh at yourself, and Vi would laugh with you, though secretly she thought it was adorable. And when the nights were too quiet and the world felt too small, she’d drive you out to the edge of town, to that spot by the lake where you’d talk for hours, play you different songs on her guitar.

She turned back to the room, her eyes tracing her surroundings. It felt almost like a relic. She grew up here, sure, but who was she now? A part of her felt like she had lost herself along the way—lost in the noise, the music, the constant moving, the faces of strangers she met on different nights. She thought about everything that had happened between her and you. She had never really taken the time to face it all, to truly think about what went wrong.

But Vander was right.

She couldn’t stay locked away forever. She had to move forward. The band had taken a break, and the world had slowed down for a moment.

With a soft sigh, she looked out the window again, her eyes finding your house across the street.

Catch up with old friends. Was that what she needed? To face the past? To see the people she had left behind?

She crossed the room, her fingers brushing against the familiar objects scattered around. Her childhood trophies. Old photos with friends. It all seemed so distant now, like someone else’s life.

She took a deep breath, the decision heavy in her chest. Maybe Vander was right. Maybe it was time to show up, even if she was afraid of the thought of it.

“I guess I’ll go,” she murmured to the empty room.

The air in the dressing room was thick with the hum of distant music and muffled laughter seeping through the walls.

It was a busy day, but here, everything seemed still.

The place smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla, the scent lingering from the carefully arranged flowers that adorned every corner of the room. Soft light from the chandeliers cast a warm glow over Mel, who stood nervously in front of the mirror, adjusting the layers of her white gown. The fabric shimmered slightly under the lights with speckles of gold both on her dress and in her hair. She looked so beautiful.

You stood beside her, your own dress, a soft shade of blush pink. You absentmindedly tugged at the fabric by your hips, trying to steady your breath, as your eyes flickered between Mel and her reflection. She was fidgeting with the edge of her veil, looking every bit like the bride she was supposed to be.

“Mel,” you said softly. You stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her arm in reassurance. “You look stunning. Just breathe.”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, and you saw the quiet panic that flickered behind them.

“Do you think I look okay?” she asked, her voice betraying her nerves. “I mean, I know I should feel excited, but I feel like everything’s about to fall apart. What if I mess up? What if I trip down the aisle or say something wrong or—”

“First off, I have never seen you trip once in my entire life,” you interrupted gently, your thumb brushing over her arm. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ve been dreaming about this day for years, Mel. You deserve every single moment of it.”

You gave her a small smile.

“You’re just gonna walk down that aisle and Jayce is going to look at you and see you and no one else. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And you are, so stop worrying, you’re about to be his wife.”

Mel exhaled slowly, dropping her shoulders a little as she allowed herself to relax, even if just a fraction. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, her fingers lightly touching the delicate lace of her dress. She nodded slowly, her eyes softening as the last of her worry seemed to ease away. She straightened up, her back a little less hunched, her chin lifted just enough to make her look like the woman you’d known all these years.

“Thank you,” she said sigh. “My god, I’m getting married.”

You gave her a teasing smile. “Yeah, you are.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Mel straightened her veil one last time and stood taller, stronger than she had a few minutes ago. You both shared one last look in the mirror before heading toward the door.

And before you knew it, you were standing in front of the aisle.

You barely noticed when Viktor, standing beside you, Jayce’s best man and friend, began to guide you down, your arm linked with his. The music played by the pianist surrounded you, and everyone’s whispered voices faded into the background. Your focus narrowed to just the steps ahead of you as you went on. Viktor smiled warmly at you and the flowers in your hands felt heavier now, their petals brushing your fingers with each step. The soft rustle of your dress seemed to blend with the rest of sounds of the room, the only thing you could hear, aside from your own breathing.

As you neared the end of the aisle, Viktor slowed his pace, and you both came to a halt. His hand gently lifted from your arm and you separated, parting to make space for the groom and the bride, and stood still for a moment, facing the crowd.

And it was then, as your eyes scanned the room, that you saw it—a streak of pink. The color almost seemed to glow.

Vi.

Her hair, now a little longer than you remembered, was glowing under the soft light.

Your heart skipped a beat, then stilled, as you stared and swallowed the lump in your throat.

She’s sitting there, in the middle of the crowd, dressed in an all-black suit, the kind that should look formal, her collar loose and unbuttoned under her jacket. She looks good—too good, in that frustrating way you remember all too well.

And she’s staring right at you.

She’s been staring the whole time, as if she’s been waiting for this, waiting for you. Her jaw is set, her lips pressed into a line that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t far from one either. It’s the look she used to give you when she was trying to read you, trying to figure out if she should say something or stay quiet.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the bouquet in your hands. And then, from the corner of your eye, you see movement. Mel steps into view, bright in her wedding dress, reminding you of where you are, of the role you’re here to play.

And it’s enough to force you to tear your gaze away from Vi.

Your eyes snap back to Mel, and you focus on her. You force yourself to breathe, to focus, but deep down, you know this will stay lodged in your mind.

Vi stared the entire time.

She’d been staring from the moment you stepped into view. She’d been waiting all day for this—waiting for you to step out, to catch even a glimpse of the person who’d lived in the back of her mind for years, no matter how hard she’d tried to bury the thought of you.

And when she finally saw you… God, fuck.

You were beautiful.

So beautiful it made her throat tighten and her chest ache. It wasn’t just the dress, though it was stunning, soft and flowing, hugging you in all the right places.

You looked better than she remembered, which felt impossible because, to Vi, you’d always been the prettiest person she’d ever laid eyes on.

Her heart thudded painfully as she took in the way you walked, like though you weren’t sure you belonged in the spotlight. You always did that—shrank yourself down, even when you had every right to take up space.

And Vi hated it. She hated how much she missed it too.

She couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink. Her gaze drank in every detail—the line of your collarbone where the dress dipped, the curve of your neck, the curve of your lips. She thought about how she used to trace the edges of your jaw with her fingertips, how you used to tilt your head into her hand when you were silently asking her to kiss you.

Her jaw clenched, her lips pressing into a tight line as if that could stop all her emotions from crashing over.

Because fuck, you were right there. Flesh and blood, in the same room.

And yet, you felt so far away, like the distance between her seat and from where you stood might as well have been a thousand miles.

Her mind raced as she sat there, still as stone, her fingers digging into her knees to keep herself calm. What would she even say if she could speak to you? What could she say that wouldn’t sound pathetic, desperate?

Because she was desperate.

She realized that now, sitting here and watching you.

In fact, she watched you for the rest of the night. All the way up to the after party.

Vi stayed on the second floor balcony for most of the evening, nursing a drink she didn’t particularly care for, her other hand gripping the railing as she leaned against it.

The view was perfect from up here—not of just the party, but of you.

She could see everything, every little detail. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed the sound of your laugh until it reached her ears over the music and chatter.

She watched as you spun around the dance floor with Jayce, his booming laugh echoing as he twirled you, your dress flaring out. Mel joined in too, her bouquet forgotten somewhere on a table as the three of you swayed and stumbled with too much energy to care if you looked silly.

Vi’s lips curved into the smallest, bittersweet smile at the sight of you and her friends all so carefree, so full of life.

From up here, she could even watch how some guys went up to you, making her grip on the railing even tighter. She could see the way their eyes lit up when they looked at you, how they straightened their postures, how they leaned in just a little too close.

Vi hated how much it bothered her.

But you… you were polite, as you always were, letting them have their moment before smiling and shaking your head, refusing a dance or to talk with them. You didn’t let them pull you away, didn’t let them have the piece of you they clearly wanted.

She should’ve felt relieved, but she didn’t. It wasn’t enough.

Because deep down, she knew she had no right to feel this way anymore.

You weren’t hers. You hadn’t been for years.

Vi leaned further into the railing, her fingers loosening around her glass as she tilted her head back, exhaling softly. God, you looked so happy. And you deserved to be happy. But Vi couldn’t shake the selfish, ugly thought that she wanted to be the one who put that smile on your face again.

Earlier, she’d congratulated Jayce and Mel, shaking hands with Jayce and giving Mel one of those half hugs she was bad at. Jayce had been his usual cheerful self, patting Vi on the back and saying how good it was to see her. He’d even cracked a joke about how the great Violet of The Lanes had graced them with her presence. It was lighthearted, teasing, but Vi couldn’t stop the tiny pang of discomfort it caused.

She didn’t want to be that big rockstar here. Not tonight. She wanted to be Vi, the same person they went to high school with, the person you used to know.

Vi couldn’t stop staring at you, no matter how much she told herself not to.

You were laughing at something Mel said, your smile lighting up your whole face. Fuck, you were so pretty.

She forced herself to look away. Her throat felt tight, and she needed air—real air, not the stifling kind laced with too many conversations and clinking glasses and the faint scent of champagne.

With a sigh, Vi turned on her heel and slipped through the doors behind her, the sound of the party fading as she stepped out onto the outdoor balcony. Her hand instinctively reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and her old, scratched-up zippo lighter.

She lit the cigarette, taking a long drag as she leaned against the railing and closed her eyes. The smoke curled around and she tilted her head back, staring up at the sky.

The stars were faint against the glow of the city lights, but they were there, distant and untouchable.

Kind of like you.

She saw you in everything she looked at.

Vi thought coming out here would help, but even with the cool air and the distance from the party, all she could think about was you. How you looked tonight. How you laughed. How you smiled.

She took another drag, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the cigarette to her lips. Maybe it was the nicotine.

She was barely halfway through her cigarette, the end of it glowing faintly as she took another drag. She’d been out here long enough for the faint chill to settle in her bones, but it was better than being inside. She stared down at the city below, considering the easiest way to slip out unnoticed.

Maybe she should just leave.

She didn’t have anything left to say to anyone here—not when every word felt like it was scraping its way up her throat.

Her hand tightened around the cigarette as she thought about it, but then—

“You started smoking?”

The sound of your voice behind her froze her in place.

For a moment, she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. She stared straight ahead at the town, the distant lights blurring slightly in her vision. She almost thought she’d imagined it, but then the faint shuffle of your steps as you came closer made it all too real.

Finally, she turned, slowly and hesitantly. When her eyes met yours, she froze again. You were standing there, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read all too well, your hands clasped loosely in front of you. You weren’t really dressed for the slight cold of the night, and she noticed the faint goosebumps along your arms, the way you shifted on your feet to keep warm.

“I, uh…” she stammered.

Vi glanced down at the cigarette in her hand like she’d forgotten it was there. She suddenly felt self-conscious, like she was holding something she shouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” she muttered quietly, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “Picked it up a while ago.”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze flicking from her face to the cigarette and back again.

“I didn’t think you would,” you said softly, and there was something in your tone—disappointment? Sadness? Curiosity?—whatever it was… she didn’t like it.

Vi shrugged, trying to play it off, but her voice came out quiet. “Helps with the stress, I guess.”

When you took a step closer, Vi’s shoulders tensed slightly. But when you stopped just shy of standing shoulder to shoulder with her, leaving a short distance between the two of you, she immediately dropped the cigarette she’d been holding, even though she was no where near finished. The bottom of her shoe came down on it a second later, snuffing out the ember.

It was almost instinctive, the way she straightened slightly, as though your presence alone made her feel the need to be… better, cleaner, less like the person she’d become and more like the one she used to be when you were hers.

She shoved her hands back into her pockets, not knowing what to do with them, her jaw tightening as she glanced sideways to look at you, a flicker of a guilty look crossing her face.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” you say.

Vi blinked, looking at you more fully now. “Do what?”

“Pretend,” you said, your eyes meeting hers. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. It’s just… surprising, that’s all.”

“I don’t… really wanna give you another reason to think I’m someone you don’t recognize,” she admitted quietly, her forearms leaning against the railing as she waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think you’re a stranger, Vi,” you said finally, and she stiffened slightly. “It’s just—it’s been a while since we saw each other, so...”

Vi turned to face you, and for a second, she just stared, her breath catching in her throat like she forgot how to speak.

God, you looked even more beautiful up close. She could see how you’ve grown, how the years had softened and shaped you in ways she hadn’t been there to witness. The dim light traced the curve of your face, catching the slope of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

And her eyes stayed there—on your lips—longer than they should have, and all she could think about was how they used to feel against hers. How you used to kiss her so softly.

She wondered if you could feel it, this pull between you both, with everything unsaid and everything she wished she could take back. God, how she wanted to reach out, to close the distance and take your face in her hands. To kiss you like she used to, like no time had passed, like she hadn’t spent every day missing you.

“How long have you been back in town?” you asked softly, and your voice broke through her thoughts.

Vi blinked and forced herself to focus on your eyes instead of your lips. Your voice was gentle, tentative, like you were testing the waters, not really sure where this conversation might go.

“Not long,” she said finally. “A couple of days.”

You nodded, and she could see the way your lips pressed together, as if you were holding back some words.

“How… have you been?” Vi asked, her voice almost trembling with nerves.

It was quiet for a bit, and she felt like she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Fuck, it was such a stupid thing to ask, she thought. It felt too small, too casual. But she didn’t know what else to say.

You turned your gaze to her. Her stomach twisted when she saw the way your lips parted, hesitating like you were choosing your words carefully. She hated that she didn’t know what was going through your mind. Once upon a time, she could read you like her favorite song, but now, it was like trying to decipher lyrics in a language she no longer spoke.

“I’ve been okay,” you said finally. “Busy, I guess. Definitely not as busy as you, but... um, I’ve been working with mom at her flower shop.”

Vi nodded slowly, her throat dry. Okay. It wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve said, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, either.

Honestly… she wanted you to tell her more. So much more. That… you missed her, maybe. That you thought about her. That maybe there was still some small part of your heart that belonged to her.

But she couldn’t push for that.

“I… I’ve actually just paid for a lease on this spot for a bookshop downtown, so…” you said next, your voice dipping into something shy.

You shifted your gaze, looking down at your hands for a moment before glancing back at Vi.

“A bookshop?” she repeated, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “That’s… that’s amazing. Seriously.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck at the sound of her voice. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way she said them, like she believed in you without hesitation, the same way she always used to. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to steady yourself under her gaze.

“It’s not open yet, but it’s coming together,” you continued, your words rushed. “I have to get supplies and… you know, order books to sell. I’m still getting it all set up next week…”

Vi nodded, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just stared at you, the pride in her eyes unmistakable.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I… I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing down at your hands again. You felt the urge to keep talking, to fill the space with something else. “After my book did well, I just thought… I’ve always wanted a book shop, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know…” Vi said quietly, almost like she was thinking aloud.

Her eyebrows lifted at the mention of your book.

“I-I mean—Your book,” she echoed, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “I saw it. Well, I didn’t just see it—I bought it. And read it. Twice, actually.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You read my book?”

“Of course, I did,” she said, like it wasn’t even a question.

Vi smiled at that, but there was something bittersweet in the curve of her lips. She wanted to tell you that she’d read it more than twice. That she kept it with her when she’d travel on tours, tucked away in her suitcase like a piece of you she couldn’t let go of.

But she bit her tongue, knowing that wasn’t something you needed to hear—not now, not after all this time.

“Did you like it?”

Vi looked at you, a slow and gentle smile creeping up on her face as she said, “Yeah.”

What she didn’t tell you was that she never actually had the heart to finish it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know how it ended. She did. She wanted to devour every word you’d written, the same way she always used to lose herself in you. She could hear you in every sentence, see you in the way you painted your characters and wove their lives together.

And she liked to pretend that as long as she hadn’t reached the end, there was still something left between you. That there was still more to the story.

So when she’d get close to the end, her hands would freeze.

It felt too final. Too much like closure.

And closure was the last thing she wanted.

Vi cleared her throat and shifted on her feet awkwardly, tearing her gaze away from you.

“Feels weird thinking Jayce and Mel are married now,” she said roughly, just something to say.

Her lips quirked into a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which darted back to you despite her best efforts to keep them fixed on the town ahead of her.

You chuckled softly, and the sound of it sent a ripple through her chest, and she swore she could feel her heart break all over again.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning against the railing. “It feels like just yesterday they were arguing about who was better at chemistry, and now here they are.”

“Bet Jayce’s still a pain in the ass, though,” she muttered.

But her smile faded as she looked down at the ground, her scuffed boots suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. In reality, she just wanted to keep talking to you, to keep hearing your voice for as long as she can, not knowing when she’s ever going to get this chance again.

“Mel definitely agrees with that.”

Then, there was silence.

You moved slightly, your fingers trailing the edge of the railing as you watched her. She hadn’t changed, not really. But something about her was different. You couldn’t name it. It was like she was trying to keep herself contained, fighting to hide the parts of her she didn’t want you to see.

“How about you?”

Vi’s gaze flicked up to meet yours like you startled her from a daydream. She blinked, her fingers loosening around the railing, but she didn’t quite look at you. Not directly.

“Huh?” she breathed.

“How have you been?” you repeated.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out at first. Then, a small, shaky laugh slipped from her lips.

“I—” She cut herself off, her fingers running through her hair, trying to appear calm.

I miss you, she wanted to say.

Vi met your gaze for a split second, but then her eyes flickered downward again, a soft breath escaping her lips.

“I’ve been… alright,” she said. She glanced at you briefly, the faintest flicker nervousness—maybe even guilt—crossing her face before her gaze fell to the ground. “The band’s on a break right now, so… I’ll be home for a while.”

You nodded slowly, her words repeating in your head.

Home. It sounded strange coming from her. Vi was always moving. You remember nights when you’d wish she was home, remembering how you’d ask her in every call and text wondering when she’ll be back home, even if it’s just for a short while.

She glanced back up at you, her eyes searching yours like she was trying to figure out how you felt about her answer. The faint light from inside the party caught the edges of her hair, making her pink strands glow softly in the dim light. Again, she looked the same, and yet not at all. She looked older, not just in age, but in the way her shoulders sagged slightly, like the weight of her own world had finally caught up to her.

“Home, huh?” you said softly, the word tasting bittersweet on your tongue.

“Yeah.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched between you, broken only by the muffled sounds of music and laughter spilling out from the party behind you.

Vi shifted on her feet all over again, her hands brushing the seam of her pants as she glanced down for a beat, then back up at you. She looked almost timid, carefully thinking and choosing her words before speaking.

“I’m, uh… staying at my dad’s house,” she mentioned out of nowhere.

Her eyes darted to yours briefly before she looked away again, scratching the back of her neck once more—it was a sign that she was nervous, you knew it too well.

She hesitated for a moment again, as though debating whether or not to say the next part, and then just blurted out, “Um… if you need help with that bookshop thing... I… I could help. You know, with lifting boxes, books or whatever. Anything. Whenever you need.”

The words tumbled out in a rush, and her cheeks flushed slightly as she stood there, waiting for you were going to say. It was such a clumsy offer, but it was also… sweet. You could tell from the way she said it, from the way her hands fidgeted at her sides, from the way her eyes flickered to yours and then back to the ground, that she wasn’t just trying to be polite.

You didn’t say anything at first, and in the silence, Vi’s nervousness seemed to grow. She bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze darting to yours again as if to gauge your reaction.

“I mean, no pressure,” she added quickly, her voice stumbling over the words. “I just thought… i-if you needed help or anything… I’m around.”

She forced another small, lopsided smile. And suddenly, it hit you how much she had changed.

But you only offered a small, polite smile back.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you say softly, shaking your head. “You’re on a break—you should be… I don’t know. Resting? I think—”

But before you can finish, Vi cuts you off, “I want to.”

The words spill out of her with a force that surprises even her, and for a moment, she freezes, like she’s unsure if she sounded to desperate. Her jaw tightens, and she swallows hard before continuing, softer this time.

“I mean it, I really do. I want to help. I… I’d like to… Besides, I don’t really have any future plans anyways, so... It’ll keep me busy.”

Her voice trails off at the end, and she looks at you with those same earnest eyes.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say.

You search her face, taking in the faint flush on her cheeks, the slight furrow of her brows, the way she looks like she’s bracing herself for rejection.

You exhale slowly, your heart caught somewhere between wanting to let her in and knowing the risks that come with it.

“Vi…” you start softly, but she shakes her head before you can go on, her lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile.

You hesitate, the words catching on the edge of your tongue. Vi is standing there, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Her eyes are locked on you, searching for some sort of an answer. She’s trying so hard to play it cool, but you’ve known her for too long to miss the way her shoulders tense, like she’s bracing herself for you to say no.

In Vi’s head, the words are quiet and repetitive saying, please say yes, please say yes, please…

You let out a slow breath, your lips curving into a small, tentative smile.

“Okay…” you say softly.

Fuck.

Her eyes flicker, catching the faintest glimmer of surprise, but she doesn’t move or speak, just waits, like she’s afraid to push too hard.

You glance away for a moment, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress, and then add, “If anything comes up… I’ll ask you first.”

Her shoulders relax as her lips curl into a grin—not a wide, toothy grin like the ones you remember from years ago, but a quiet, shy smile. It’s like she’s trying to play it cool, but the spark of happiness in her eyes betrays her.

“Yeah?” she says, like she’s making sure she didn’t mishear you.

You nod and Vi exhales a soft chuckle, looking down at her boots for a second before meeting your gaze again.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Okay.”

“I, um… I should head back to the party,” you say softly, a bit hesitant, like you’re not sure whether you’re ready to leave or if you’re saying it just to give yourself permission to.

You give her a gentle smile.

“It was nice seeing you, Violet.”

Her name falls from your lips so easily, like it hasn’t been years since she’s heard you say it. And God, she swears she melts—completely, utterly melts—like the sound of her name coming from you is the softest, warmest thing in the world. Nobody really calls her that anymore. To everyone else, she’s just Vi. To you… she doesn’t even know if she’s still that girl, still your Violet, but the way you say it makes her feel like she could be.

She tries to play it cool, tries to keep herself from staring too hard at you or letting you see how badly she wants you to stay just a little longer, but it’s impossible. Everything about you—your voice, your smile, the way you’re standing there looking so fucking beautiful—it’s all driving her crazy.

Vi just nods, her voice coming out quieter than she intended.

“Yeah… yeah, you too.”

You give her one last smile before turning to leave, and Vi’s chest tightens as she watches you go, your dress swaying lightly as you walk back toward the noise.

She wants to call after you, to stop you, to ask you for just a few more minutes. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stays where she is, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, replaying the entire conversation, the way you said her name over and over.

The days passed slowly, each one dragging way more than the last, and Vi felt every excruciating second of it. She’d never been good at waiting—patience was never her strong suit—but this was quite possibly worse than anything she’d ever experienced. You were on her mind constantly, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw you standing on that balcony, your voice soft, smiling at her in that pretty dress.

And now… now she was stuck in silence, waiting for a sign, for anything, for you.

It was maddening.

She’d been sitting on your number for days, her thumb hovering over her phone screen more times than she could count.

She’d asked Jayce for it the day after the wedding, trying to keep her voice casual and her reasoning vague—something about wanting to just talk or check in, honestly, she couldn’t even remember what she’d said now. Jayce hadn’t questioned it, just handed it over with a knowing grin and a pat on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he’d said, and Vi had laughed it off at the time, pretending it didn’t matter as much as it did.

But now, sitting in her dad’s kitchen with her phone on the table in front of her, the wait was crushing her.

She’d tried to convince herself to wait for you to make the first move, but the days were stretching on, and every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped, only to sink when it wasn’t you.

It was ridiculous, really, how much power you still had over her after all this time.

She felt like a teenager again, pacing her room, rehearsing what to say, overthinking every way you might respond.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, glancing at the screen where your name stared back at her, the text box waiting for her to write something, anything. A call felt too forward, but a text… God, what was she even supposed to say? Hey, it was nice seeing you at the wedding? No, that sounded too formal. I can’t stop thinking about you and wish I had said more that night? Absolutely not.

She groaned and leaned back in her chair, glaring at the phone like it was mocking her. She’d faced stadiums full of screaming fans, interviews where every word mattered, even the pressure of writing entire albums with a deadline, and yet here she was, completely undone by the thought of texting you.

It seemed awfully familiar, though.

The last time she had been staring at her phone like this, wanting to text you, to call you, was when you broke up with her in New York.

Vi remembers every message, every call, every desperate attempt to reach you after your flight home. She regretted everything, and she carried it with her everyday. Even now, years later, she can still feel it—the silence on the other end of the line, the way your name sat at the top of her call log, unanswered, untouched, until eventually, it disappeared altogether.

She had tried to chase you that morning—had jolted awake to the blaring red numbers on the alarm clock, the kind of panic that claws its way up your throat, suffocating.

But she never made it on time.

The hangover from the night before had her glued to the bed for too long, her knuckles slightly bruised from punching that guy at the party, slowed her limbs and dulled her mind when she needed to be moving, running—to you. She remembered stumbling through her hotel room, throwing on last night’s pants, grabbing her keys with shaking hands, but by the time she had made it downstairs and shoved open the lobby doors, the realization had already sunk its teeth into her—she wasn’t going to make it.

Still, she had sent the text.

She had sat in the driver’s seat of her car, fingers gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She had stared at the screen, waiting, willing your name to light up in reply. But nothing came.

She tried calling. She had dialed your number over and over, barely able to breathe as the rings echoed in her ear, taunting her.

Voicemail.

Again.

And again. And again.

She had meant it. She wanted to tell you that she knew she had screwed up, that she had let the late nights and missed dates and unreturned calls and the fact that she barely came home piled up into something unbearable. That she had let you slip through her fingers when she should have been holding on for dear life.

But you never answered.

And then again later that night, after she had downed more drinks than she should have, after she had sat on the floor of her bathroom with her head in her hands, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong.

She promised. And she had kept that promise, had woken up with a headache, going through an interview she barely remembered, and then, the second she was free, she had called you.

And still, nothing.

The messages didn’t stop after that.

For weeks, she kept reaching out. The texts came in—some long, rambling apologies sent in the middle of the night, others as simple as “I miss you” or “Are you okay?” The calls never slowed, her thumb swiping over your name out of habit, out of desperation, out of some foolish, impossible hope that maybe this time you’d pick up.

But you never did.

And Vi was pretty sure it killed her.

It killed her to think that maybe, eventually, you would stop even reading them, stop seeing her name on your screen and feeling anything at all.

And yet, she still kept calling. Because she didn’t know how to stop. Because the thought of never hearing your voice again was somehow worse than hearing nothing at all, even if it was just your voicemail.

“I love you,” was her last message.

Vi let out a frustrated breath, running her hand through her hair as she stared at your name one more time. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but she also didn’t want to lose this chance, the tiny sliver of hope that had lodged itself in her chest since she’d seen you again.

She didn’t hear the door at first, her mind too distracted as she stared at her phone.

But then, the doorbell echoed through the house, dragging her out of her thoughts. Vi didn’t move at first, too paralyzed.

The silence stretched, and just as she began to wonder if she should check the door, Vander’s voice rang out from the other side of the house.

“Vi, it’s for you!”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Vi stood up slowly, her fingers still clutching her phone, her mind racing.

And then she heard it again. Her Vander’s voice, a little louder than usual, echoing from the front door.

“Vi, it’s for you!” Vander called out again.

Vi hesitated, frozen for a moment in the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. She could hear muffled voices, something that sounded like small talk, but she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for anyone—least of all you—to walk through that door, to see her and disrupt the little bubble she’d built around herself.

And then, just as she took a hesitant step toward the hallway, she heard it.

A woman’s voice, sweet and unmistakable, calling out in the distance. It was your mom.

“Vi, sweetie, it’s been a while,” she said warmly.

Why was your mom here? Was she here for you? Did you send her?

“Uh, hi,” Vi stammered, her voice cracking slightly as she stepped closer to the doorway.

Her throat felt dry, and she wasn’t sure where to put her hands, so they hung awkwardly by her sides. She tried to muster a smile, but it faltered slightly under her nerves.

Your mom stood there, her familiar warm smile softening the edges of Vi’s unease.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said kindly, her voice light and easy, as if years hadn’t passed since the last time they’d spoken. “You’ve grown so much.”

Vi forced a nod, her lips twitching into a polite grin.

“T-Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Anyway,” she said, waving a hand as if she was brushing away any lingering awkwardness, “I actually came by to ask for a bit of help.”

“Oh?” she managed.

“Well,” your mom began, “____ has some books at the house that I’m supposed to drop off at her apartment, but I have to get to the flower shop soon. She told me to ask you to do it if you were available.”

She offered a sheepish smile, “Was thinking you could spare my back from lifting some of those boxes, you see.”

Vi wasn’t sure how long she stood there, frozen in place, as they sank in. Your mom’s voice was calm and casual, but to Vi, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath her.

You told her to ask me? The thought looped in her head.

“Oh, uh…” Vi started, the words faltering as she processed the request. She rubbed the back of her neck, and glanced briefly at Vander, who stood just behind her in the kitchen, pretending not to listen but very clearly eavesdropping. She caught his small, encouraging nod, and it pushed her to speak again. “Yes! Yeah, of course. I can do that.”

Your mom’s face brightened instantly.

“Oh, thank you, sweetie. That’s such a big help.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small slip of paper, handing it to Vi. “Here’s the address to her apartment. The boxes are over in the backyard. Just leave them wherever she needs them.”

Vi took the paper with trembling fingers, her gaze flicking down to the scrawled handwriting. It wasn’t yours, but it didn’t matter. Just the thought of stepping into your place, of touching something that belonged to you, made her chest ache with excitement.

Your mom beamed. “I appreciate it.”

Vi nodded, offering another polite smile, though her mind was already racing ahead. She watched as your mom said her goodbyes and left, the door clicking softly behind her.

Once the house was quiet again, Vander leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You gonna be okay there, kid?”

Vi didn’t answer. She just stood in the doorway, staring at the door.

“Uh-huh.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and without a second thought, she spun on her heel, running toward her room. Vander’s low chuckle echoed faintly behind her, but she didn’t stop to say anything. Her mind was racing too fast, her body moving on autopilot.

Vi nearly stumbled as she made it to her room, her hand shooting out to grab the edge of her desk for balance. Her eyes immediately locked onto her old car keys lying on the surface. Her fingers curled tightly around the worn leather keychain, and in one quick motion, she stuffed the keys into her pocket and spun around to leave.

“You’re leaving now?” Vander teased from the kitchen as she all but bolted past him. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching her in amusement.

“I’ll be back later!” Vi called back over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Before he could respond, she was gone, the screen door slamming shut behind her. He shook his head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he chuckled softly to himself.

“Kids,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to whatever he’d been doing.

Vi moved quickly, her boots crunching against the grass as she ran to the next house, grabbing the boxes of books from the backyard like your mother had said, putting them in the trunk before getting in to start the truck.

As the engine roared as she turned her key, she gripped the wheel tightly, her palms slightly clammy against the worn leather. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her mind still spinning. The thought of seeing you again, even in such a simple, practical way, made her stomach twist into knots.

She adjusted the rearview mirror, catching a brief glimpse of herself, her wide eyes betraying the nerves she felt. With a soft huff, she shook her head, trying to steady herself.

“It’s just some boxes,” she murmured under her breath, as if saying it out loud might make it easier.

With that thought in her mind, Vi threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway. She didn’t bother to turn on the radio as she drove, her hands tightening on the wheel, her foot pressing just a little harder on the gas as everything out the windows blurred past.

When Vi pulled up to your apartment building, she stayed in the driver’s seat longer than she’d planned, her fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel. The grumble of the truck’s engine had faded, leaving only the sound of her shallow breathing and the occasional creak of the old leather seat beneath her. She stared up at the building, the sunlight glinting off the windows, and felt her stomach twist. This shouldn’t be such a big deal—just a delivery, just a favor—but it pressed down on her like it meant everything.

She glanced down at herself, frowning at her choice of clothes. A faded hoodie she’d thrown on in a rush and a pair of worn jeans she’d been meaning to replace for years. Her sneakers were scuffed, the laces frayed at the edges. She tugged at the hem of the hoodie self-consciously, her lips pressing into a thin line. Why hadn’t she dressed up a little more? Why hadn’t she at least run a comb through her hair before bolting out the door?

The truck’s rearview mirror caught her eye, and she tilted it down slightly to get a look at herself. Her hair was messy, not in the cool, effortless way she might’ve liked. Her hair grew longer, but she’s been meaning to get a hair cut from her hair stylist before the band took a break. She reached up to smooth it down, her fingers catching on a knot. With a frustrated sigh, she shook her head and let her hand drop.

Get a grip, Vi, she thought. It’s not a date. You’re dropping off some boxes, that’s it.

But even as she said the words, they felt hollow. She wanted to look good for you. She wanted you to see her and—what? Be impressed?

With a heavy sigh, Vi shoved the door open and climbed out of the truck. She grabbed the first box from the passenger seat, balancing it carefully against her hip as she slammed the door shut with her foot. Her keys jingled softly in her pocket as she made her way toward the building, her shoes scuffing against the pavement.

The elevator ride felt like it lasted an eternity. Vi shifted the box in her arms, her palms growing damp from the cardboard’s edges. She stared at the numbers lighting up above the door, each floor bringing her closer. Her heart was pounding again, and she cursed herself for it.

When the elevator doors slid open, she stepped out and hesitated, her eyes scanning the numbers on the doors in the halls until she found yours. Standing there, just a few feet away, she felt her resolve falter again. She reached up to knock, then paused, glancing down at herself one last time. The hoodie, the jeans, her hair—she sighed, knowing there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

Finally, Vi forced herself to step forward, swallowing the lump in her throat as she raised her knuckles to the door and knocked.

The door creaked open a moment later, and Vi’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought about what she’d say, but all those half-formed ideas completely disintegrated the second she saw you.

You were standing there in a loose tank top that dipped low enough to hint at your curves, your cleavage, paired with a pair of shorts that revealed more of your legs than Vi could handle seeing without losing her composure.

And she wasn’t ready for this at all.

Your eyes widened when you saw her, your body jolting slightly, not expecting her of all people to be on the other side of the door at this hour.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, taking a step back out of instinct. “Vi. Y-You’re early.”

Vi blinked, trying to force her brain to catch up with the situation, but her eyes kept drifting down your body, betraying her. Her gaze flitted from the flush in your cheeks to the slight curve of your collarbone and lower before she caught herself and looked away, focusing on the box in her hands.

“I, uh…” Vi cleared her throat, her voice suddenly hoarse. “Yeah, I—guess I didn’t realize how fast I’d get here.”

She wanted to curse herself for how awkward she sounded, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything except how close you were, how the faint scent of your perfume drifted into her nose.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, clearly flustered, your smile shy but warm.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” you said, glancing down at yourself briefly like you were suddenly self-conscious. “I—uh, I didn’t really dress for company.”

Vi shook her head quickly, the words tumbling out before she could think them through.

“Oh! No, you’re—you look…” She stopped and bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to regain her footing. “You look fine. Really great, I mean. Not that I was looking—I-I… Just—uh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not smooth. At all. The heat in her cheeks was unmistakable now, and she wanted nothing more than to melt and disappear into the floor. You let out a soft laugh, and it was warm, teasing, in a way that made Vi’s heart flutter.

“Well, come in,” you said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter. “You’re already here, so…”

Vi nodded as she stepped in. She kept her head down, her jaw tight, her fingers gripping the box pretending to focus on it instead of you.

You stepped aside, letting her cross the threshold into your apartment, and she immediately felt her nerves spike. It was cozy with soft warm lighting and shelves packed full of books and little frames of photos you’ve taken that she wasn’t apart of. She found herself lingering by the door, holding the box tightly as her eyes wandered more. A dark blue blanket was draped over the back of the couch, your yellow mug from earlier sat on the coffee table, and she could faintly smell of, maybe, vanilla or something sweet in the air.

“I—I’m gonna go get dressed,” you said suddenly, moving awkwardly on your feet like her being in the room was throwing you off your balance too. You gestured vaguely to your tank top and shorts, cheeks slightly pink. “I know I only asked if you could drop those off, but I’d really like to get them to the shop as soon as possible, so...”

Vi only nodded, her mouth too dry to form a proper response, her hands gripping the box tighter than necessary.

“Yeah, no problem,” she muttered, barely hearing her own voice over her thoughts. “I-I can drive us there if you want.”

You gave her a quick smile and turned to head down the short hallway toward what she assumed was your bedroom.

And Vi tried, really, really tried to keep her focus elsewhere, but her resolve crumbled the second you walked away.

Her gaze shamelessly dropped down to your ass, trailing after you as your hips swayed naturally with each step, her brain short-circuiting at the sight. Oh, how she wished she was allowed to pull you close like she used to, pressed your ass against her front, her hands on your hips, her lips against the side of your neck, kissing and licking and marking—

Fuck. Stop. Stop.

She tore her eyes away, her face heating up in an instant. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t seventeen anymore, and yet here she was, acting like some lovesick kid with no self-control.

But, really, how could she not? It had been years, and somehow you were sexier—no, even more beautiful now than you were back then. You always had this effect on her, and she learned today that it has never gone away.

She sighed and glanced up at the ceiling, trying to distract herself by taking in more of your apartment. Everything here was you. She could picture you curled up on that couch, a book in hand, completely at ease. She could picture you at the little kitchen counter, maybe making coffee in the mornings, the sunlight spilling in through the window. It was such a simple, lovely image that Vi could almost feel herself getting lost in it, wanting to be a part of it in some way.

Vi set the box down gently by the couch, glancing around your cozy apartment one more time before lowering herself onto the cushions. She sank into them, her fingers drumming absently on her knees as she tried not to think too much. But waiting like this, surrounded by all the little pieces of your life, made it impossible not to.

She let out a slow breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep her thoughts in check. The sound of your door creaking open snapped her out of it, and she instinctively looked up, her breath catching the moment she saw you. She didn’t even realize she was staring until her chest tightened again, a small voice in the back of her head reminding her that she had no right to look at you like this anymore.

“Mel dropped some books off yesterday too,” you said, your voice pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’ll grab them, and then we can take all of it down to the shop.”

Vi nodded dumbly, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find a coherent response.

You turned toward a small side table where a several of other books were stacked, and Vi took the moment to glance at you again, her chest aching as the reality of it all hit her. And all she could think about was how fucking beautiful you looked. As you bent slightly to pick up the stack, Vi clenched her fists against her thighs, forcing herself to look away.

She followed you on your way out, silently wishing she could stay in there a little longer to explore what else you’ve been up to, to see everything that was connected to you.

But she couldn’t anymore, not when you closed the door and locked it quickly behind her.

You stood beside her in the elevator, close enough that she could catch the faintest trace of your perfume. It was practically the same scent she remembered, the one that used to linger on her clothes after you’d hugged her goodbye. Vi glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, watching as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag, clutching the books Mel dropped off to donate to your chest carefully, and your lips pressed together in a thin line.

Neither of you spoke.

Vi was nervous.

She wanted to say something but she didn’t really know how. It was a strange, being quiet, and she hated how much she liked it—just being near you, even if it wasn’t the same as before.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the ground floor, and the doors slid open to the parking lot. Vi stepped out first, holding the box carefully, and you followed close behind. Her boots scuffed against the concrete as she led the way toward her truck, parked in one of the far corners next to a big tree.

When the truck came into view, your steps slowing just slightly. Vi noticed immediately, glancing back at you with a questioning look, but you didn’t dare to say anything. You just stood there, staring at the familiar sight of her old, beat-up pickup, the one she used to drive you around in. She could see it in your eyes—your eyebrows rising, the way your lips parted just slightly, as if you were about to say something but thought better of it.

Vi remembered everything about that truck—how she’d spent weeks fixing it up herself in high school after Vander brought it home for her on her sixteenth birthday, how proud she’d been when it finally roared to life. She remembered the late night drives, the way you’d slide across the bench seat to lean against her as she steered with one hand. She remembered the drive-in movies, the cheap popcorn, and the way you’d press a kiss to her cheek when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. She remembered her arm resting behind your head as she leaned in to distract you from that movie just past the window, her lips pressing against yours before moving down to your jaw, your neck, until she had you on your back against the bench seat of the truck, her mouth exploring your body excitedly, enjoying the feeling of your hands holding on to her like you depending on it.

And she wondered if you remembered it the same way she did.

You smiled faintly, but you still didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to the truck slowly, your hand brushing along the edge of the faded red paint.

Vi hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. “You okay?”

You nodded softly. Your gaze lingered on the truck, tracing over every detail, every dent and scratch that time hadn’t erased.

Vi cleared her throat, forcing a shaky laugh to break the silence. “She’s still holding up,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “Vander fixed her up when he found out I was coming home.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It’s still the same.”

Vi wanted to ask what you were thinking—if seeing the truck brought back all the same memories for you as it did for her—but she bit her tongue.

She didn’t want to push.

The drive to the shop felt a little longer than it actually was.

Vi gripped the steering wheel of her truck a little tighter, her palms slightly clammy against the worn leather. The ride was quiet, almost painfully so, but she didn’t want to break the silence—not when she was afraid any word out of her mouth would sound awkward or clumsy, maybe. But every so often, her eyes darted toward you, sitting there in the seat next to her, looking out the window.

You didn’t say much either, only the directions to the location, and that only made Vi more nervous. Were you nervous, too? Or maybe just tired?

Your hands rested lightly in your lap, your fingers brushing against the fabric of your jeans as if you needed something to do. She wanted to ask what you were thinking, wanted to know what it felt like to finally see your dream of a book shop finally coming true, but the words died in her throat.

So instead, she just focused on the road.

When the truck finally pulled into the parking lot of your shop, Vi parked and cut the engine. She stepped out quickly, wanting to busy herself with something, anything, and moved to the back of the truck to grab the boxes of books you’d brought along. You followed and as you reached for one of the smaller boxes, Vi stopped you with a gentle shake of her head.

“I’ve got it,” she said softly, lifting the heavier boxes with ease. “Just lead the way.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to her for a brief moment before you started toward the front door. The shop was was in a nice spot really, tucked between a florist and a bakery, a nice park and garden across the street, but even from the outside, Vi could see the potential in it. The windows were clean, sunlight streaming through and lighting up the empty space inside.

When you unlocked the door and stepped in, Vi followed eagerly. The smell of fresh wood and paint filled the air, and even though there wasn’t much inside yet—just a few shelves and a small counter—she could already see it coming together.

“This is… wow,” she murmured, setting the boxes down near one of the shelves. “It’s cozy.”

You gave her a small smile, your hands brushing nervously against the hem of your shirt as you moved toward the shelves.

“It’s still a work in progress,” you said quietly. “A lot of work, actually. I’m waiting on more shelves to come in, and I still need to set up the counter, but… it’s a start.”

Vi nodded, watching as you walked around the place, your hands ghosting over the edges of the shelves like you were already imagining them full of books.

She could see the pride in your eyes, also with a tiny hint of worry, and she wanted to tell you how amazing it all was, how proud she was of you for making it happen. But instead, she swallowed the words.

Vi leans against one of the bookshelves like she belongs there, casual and easy, hands tucked into her pockets, the stretch of her shirt over her toned arms doing nothing to help your already scattered thoughts. Her smirk is just a little lopsided, just enough to make your stomach flip before she nods her head toward the unopened boxes in the corner of the shop.

“I can help set those up if you want,” she offers softly, like she hasn’t been gone all these years. Like she hasn’t spent a lifetime on the road, playing sold-out shows, living a life far removed from the one you built here.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible.

God, she looks good. Too good.

It’s infuriating how effortless it is for her, how she can just stand there and make your mind short-circuit, even knowing you shouldn’t be thinking of her in that way anymore. The warm sunlight coming through the shop windows catches the sharp angle of her jaw, the scar over her brow, the faded pink of her hair, a little messy, a little longer, like she’s run her hands through it one too many times today. She’s older now, more refined in some ways, but she’s still Vi—you could see it.

You swallow, forcing yourself to snap out of it, crossing your arms over your chest like it’ll somehow shield you from how much she still gets under your skin.

“I mean…” You glance at the unopened boxes, pretending to consider it when really. “If you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Vi grins, and it’s so damn charming, so easy, that you nearly roll your eyes at yourself for reacting to it. “Nope. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Alright,” you murmur, more to yourself than her. “Just… don’t make a mess.”

Vi chuckles warmly, almost teasing as she pushes off the bookshelf and moves closer.

“No promises,” she says, and the way she’s looking at you makes you think she’s not just talking about the shelves.

And you—well, you’re not sure if that terrifies you or if you’ve been waiting for it all along.

Vi keeps showing up.

At first, it’s under the guise of helping—the heavy lifting, the putting together more furniture until the shop starts to take real shape.

The first couple of weeks, she barely takes a break, sleeves rolled up, hands smudged with dust and the occasional splinter on her calloused hands, helping with hauling in shipments of new books before you can even get to the door, without you even needing to ask. She’d wear a fitted shirt or a tank top sometimes, showing off her strong arms as she worked—and you knew for a fact she was doing it on purpose.

You watch her from behind the counter sometimes, the way she moves like she’s so at home here. You spend your days organizing books while she works on all the heavy stuff, sneaking glances when you think she won’t notice.

Sometimes she catches you, and she’ll smirk in a way that used to make you weak in the knees back in high school, and you have to turn away quickly, pretending you weren’t staring.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that it’s just nice having an extra set of hands around.

But the shop is nearly done now—the shelves are up, the cozy reading corner is arranged just right, most books in their place—and Vi is… still here.

She stops by in the mornings, sometimes bringing coffee just the way you like them, sometimes walking in just because she was wondering how you were doing. She lingers, finds reasons to stay even when there’s no more work to do.

And you let her.

Maybe because it’s comfortable… and familiar.

Or maybe because, deep down, some part of you doesn’t want her to stop showing up.

One evening, as you’re stacking a few last-minute books onto a display, Vi leans against the counter, watching you like she’s been doing all day.

“So,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice before you even look up. “Think you’re finally ready to open?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, a small smile tugging softly at the corner of your lips. “I think so.”

Vi nods, eyes lingering on you longer than they should, like she’s about to say something else—something important—but instead, she just pushes off the counter, stretching slightly.

“Good,” she says. “It’s all looking really good.”

“Thanks, Vi,” you smile softly. “You know, I should really pay you… for the work you did, I mean. You did a lot of it and—”

Vi’s lips quirk into a smirk, “Yeah? Gonna put me on payroll?”

You shake your head, feeling suddenly shy under her stare, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean it—”

“C’mon, don’t do that.” She cuts you off with a quiet scoff, shaking her head. “It’s fine really. I just… put some shelves together. Carried a few boxes.”

Vi watches you carefully, her smirk fading into something softer. She looks down for a second, her hand coming up to scratch the back of her neck, thinking about what to say.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she says quietly. “Besides, I told you I wanted to help.”

And the way she says it—the way her gaze lingers on you, the way her voice dips slightly—makes your breath hitch for a second.

Because it almost sounds like she means more than just the shop.

Like she’s saying, I wanted to be here. I wanted to see you.

“I… still feel like I should do something…” Your voice trails off as you look away from her.

The tiniest of pouts plays at your lips as you cross your arms, before glancing back up at Vi. And damn it, she misses it. She misses you.

She smiles despite herself, the corners of her lips curving up before she can stop it.

“Well, you could come to Vander’s this Friday,” Vi suggests, trying to keep her voice light, casual.

You blink, a little surprised by the suggestion.

“Vander’s?” you repeat.

Vi clears her throat and adjusts her footing, her hand coming to scratch the back of her neck again, “T-The band is playing a small set… for, uh, Benzo’s birthday…”

“Benzo’s birthday?” you ask, your voice a little softer than before.

Her smile falters, just a bit, as if she’s not sure how to tell you this.

“Yeah… I just thought, I’d really like it if you came,” Vi continues, her words trailing off, her eyes softening as she catches the way you’re watching her.

You pause for a moment, letting her words sink in, and you realize there’s something more to this invitation than she’s letting on.

And you didn’t know if you should accept it.

“I didn’t know Benzo’s birthday was coming up,” you reply with a soft laugh.

To be fair, you haven’t even seen him or Vander in a while ever since… well…

“It’d be nice… to have you there,” Vi says again, a little more tentative this time.

The truth is, you’re scared.

Scared of what it might mean to show up at her show, to step into her world again, even for just a night, remembering how hard it had been the last time you were together.

But, you can’t help yourself, and you say…

“Okay,” you say softly despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I’ll be there.”

Then, she smiles—genuine, full, like you’ve just given her something she wasn’t sure she’d get back. “Really? That’d be—yeah, that’d be great.”

“Friday then,” you say with a soft smile.

Vi nods, a little too eagerly, her whole body seeming to react before her mind even catches up.

“Mhm. Friday.”

Her voice is quiet but sure like a promise she intends to keep, like she’d carve the date into stone if you asked her to.

And god, the way she’s looking at you drives you absolutely fucking insane.

After all these years—she still looks at you like that. Like she’d do anything you asked her to. Like she’d drop everything if you told her to stay.

“I’ll see you then,” you murmur.

And Vi just stands there, watching you, her smile lingering long after you’ve turned away.

Fuck. She’s still very much in trouble.

series masterlist | next chapter

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[bucketbueckers]

ACCOUNTING

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

synopsis: You're watching KK and the rest of the team fool around on live when Azzi walks in asking for an accounting tutor. Deciding to humor it, you're surprised to find that Azzi was completely serious, and even more surprised when your offer leads to something more between the two of you.

notes: in honor of azzi fudd hoops last night - i was supposed to have this up before the game but i forgot i had a three hour lab and unfortunately i will not write fanfiction in the middle of the university food court. first tumblr post, lmk if we're rockin w it 🙂‍↕️

You’re settling into bed to unwind for the night when you get the TikTok notification.

KK Arnold has gone live!

For the better part of your day, you’ve had your nose in the books, trying to get ahead of your weekly homework. You have a terrible habit of letting most of it pile up during the week and finishing it all over the weekend. As an accounting major, you didn’t really have fun weekend plans, anyway, but it would be nice to lay in bed all day and not worry about something that was due at 11:59. You only had three classes today: managerial accounting, intro to auditing, and intermediate accounting. It wasn’t a rigorous schedule by any means; you were done and out of classes by lunchtime, but after two and a half hours of listening to your professors drone on, you were ready for the nap you couldn’t afford to take due to your piles of homework. 

Seeing the live notification is enough to remind you that you aren’t really that tired, so you click on it. KK’s face fills the screen and she’s unboxing Crumbl cookies. You say a silent prayer for the girls – Crumbl tasted terrible and that was a hill you were willing to die on. Paige sat behind KK, with Ayanna, Jana, Kayla, and a few other players milling about off-camera. For a painful few minutes, KK tries her best to get everyone’s attention so she can narrate about whatever monstrosity of a cookie they’re eating, but everyone’s laughing too hard to fully lock in.

Ayanna leaves to get a knife so KK can cut the cookies evenly. KK entertains the live while Ayanna is away, singing, chatting, and interacting with commenters. When Ayanna finally returns, she has the knife, but Azzi also trails behind her - a fact that the live is definitely appreciative of. “Oh, my God, look who it is!” KK intones in a shrill voice, much to Azzi’s clear bewilderment. You’ve never seen an expression of such confusion on someone’s face before. “It’s Azzi Fudd!”

Azzi buries her face in her hands and moves off-camera as everyone laughs. KK’s voice softens as she asks, “Azzi, wanna try a cookie?”

“No,” Azzi whines.

KK’s entire expression shifts, and admittedly, yours does, too. It’s no secret that Azzi was almost nationally known as the people’s princess. Perhaps you’d have to fight someone. You hope that no one’s actually done something wrong to her – first of all, you can’t even fathom the idea. It’d be like kicking a puppy. Second of all, you were just someone, along with 13,000 other viewers, watching the team interact behind a screen. You were sure that Azzi’s team would handle business, although you were willing to step in if needed, too, even if you stood a solid six inches shorter than Azzi herself. “What happened?” KK asks. Paige echoes her question.

“Ask the live if anyone can tutor me in accounting,” Azzi says forlornly.

You don’t think she’s serious until KK turns back just in time for the cowboy hat to return. “Hey, y’all! Is there anybody who’s really good at accounting for Azzi Fudd? Please send help. If you do have someone who’s really good at accounting, please DM me at k2times TikTok or at kamoreaarnold Instagram or at azzifudd Instagram! Thank yew.” The room dissolves into giggles as KK continues, “And if you DM me with edits or anything else but accounting help, I will block! Thank yew.”

You have the time today, so you switch over to Instagram as the live continues in the background, and you go to Azzi’s page and hit the Message option. You doubt she’ll see it, let alone respond, but as an accounting major, it’s basically your civic duty to help those in need, especially since you know these classes are hell.

hey do u actually need accounting help? i major in it!

Satisfied, you click back over to the live just in time for Azzi to comment, “KK, I might actually have a tutor,” she says in near disbelief. You think nothing of it as KK turns her head, humming at Azzi. “Wait, I think she’s in my class.”

That manages to catch your attention. Sure, you’re watching a live with a couple thousand people on it, but how many of those people are accounting students at UConn who happen to share a class with Azzi Fudd?

An Instagram notification pops up on your screen as Paige leaves the camera frame to most likely peer over Azzi’s shoulder. You’re shocked again to see Azzi has DM’ed you back.

Yes please this homework is killing me Are you in ACCT3201 with Cansler??? I recognize you

Discovering just how unobservant you are should not come as a great surprise. Apparently, you’ve been sharing a class with Azzi Fudd this entire semester and you didn’t even realize it. This is easily the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.

i am i can’t believe i didn’t know u were in it i’m a lot better at accounting than i am at paying attention, i promise

This draws a giggle from Azzi that you can hear over the live. It makes a flush rise on your cheeks. The fact that Azzi Fudd knows who you are combined with the fact she’s laughing at your jokes is enough for a feeling of anticipation to twist in your chest. This is your life now, apparently.

“Azzi is cheesing so bad,” KK teases. You can’t help but feel a little pride at that. “Who’s chatting her up right now? Lemme invite you. Accounting rizz is insane work.”

“Don’t scare away my tutor,” Azzi grumbles, coming back into view of the camera. True to KK’s words, a faint blush has settled on her cheeks. Feeling far too smug, you comment on the live, ‘calling it rizz is crazy, i’m just helping the people.’ Azzi’s eyes scan the screen before rolling slightly. “Look at what you did, KK.”

“Is that her?” KK shrieks. She leans in closer to the screen, blocking out much of the background. “Oh, she fine. Lock in, Azzi; she can help you with more than accounting.”

At that, you and Azzi both blush a deep scarlet red and Azzi turns on her heel. “Goodbye, KK!” The room dissolves into rambunctious laughter as Azzi walks out, calling, “I’m going to finish my homework!”

A moment passes before Azzi messages you again.

I’m so sorry about KK, she’s feral

You swipe away from the live again, grinning slightly. In your DMs, the typing bubbles appear for a few short moment. You heart her most recent message in the meantime.

Will you please help me? I genuinely don’t understand what I’m doing wrong

Yes, you’ve spent most of the day in classes and doing homework. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, you really only joined the live to unwind. But when Azzi asks for help, you can’t really say no to her.

of course, are u working on this week’s homework set?

Her affirmative response is swift, telling you what she’s having trouble with. Your fingers hesitate on your screen, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words before settling.

i know this is incredibly forward but would u want to ft? i can explain better verbally

Azzi sends you her number. After tonight’s events, you really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but you can’t help it. Azzi is a nationally (and internationally) recognized college basketball player and, until now, you were just a girl who watched her team’s TikTok lives and cheered in the student section. Azzi had seemed so untouchable, by virtue of her celebrity and your lack thereof; it’s hard to believe you’re this close to her now, even if it’s just to help her with accounting homework.

The two of you talk well into the night, even hours after Azzi submits her problem sets successfully and she understands the material. You feel like you get to see a side of her so rarely seen by other people who aren’t her teammates. She’s softer, with a beaming smile on her face when she finally understands a difficult concept. There’s something so alluring about the way she speaks that you can’t help but listen to every single thing that comes out of her mouth, ranging from her frustrated rants to the smoothness of her giggle. The lamplight reflects off of the lenses of the glasses perched on her nose and you think she’s so incredibly beautiful – bare-faced and slightly delirious from staying up so late.

When the two of you finally hang up half past three, you can’t wipe the smile off your face, and somehow, you just know that this is the start of something new.

From then on, your friendship with Azzi all but flourishes. She’s incredibly sweet, soft-spoken, and so deliberate in the way she moves and speaks to you. When your next accounting class rolls around, she finds the seat next to yours, asking to sit there with an almost shy expression. When there’s lulls in the lecture, you entertain her with jokes, drawing red-cheeked giggles that she has to stifle. You’re almost like her personal TA, sitting next to her and clarifying concepts that she doesn’t understand. It helps you, too; the best study advice you’d ever received was to teach it to someone else. 

Your friendship progresses outside of the lecture room and outside of your texts. You both spend a lot of time in the library, studying in peace together or enjoying lunch in each other's company. You always thought Azzi was gorgeous, but now that you know her on a far more personal level, falling for her was a near guarantee. The far-away admiration transformed into something pure, genuine. You couldn’t imagine Azzi returning those feelings — she’s far too busy, too committed to ball — so you keep your rapidly growing crush close to your chest. 

You’ve always showed up to the UConn games, though there’s something distinctly different about them now. Azzi was never one for grand celebrations or trash talk in the way Paige was. She was intentional and lowkey, which is why you feel like you could float when she makes direct eye contact with you in the student section, throwing up three fingers to celebrate a particularly deep three. It’s why you cheese when she finds you after the game, after she’s showered and changed, and asks if you want to get ice cream with her. The better question was how could you refuse?

Azzi deliberates between vanilla and cookie dough for a long while before settling on the latter. Even as the clerk fills her bowl, she stares at the the vanilla and your choice of ice cream becomes obvious. Azzi stares at you as the clerk fills your bowl with vanilla. “What? It’s my favorite flavor,” you lie, and her lips quirk up as she studies you. 

“Said literally no one ever,” she says wryly. The clerk hands you the bowl and Azzi swipes her card before you have the chance to even contemplate otherwise. When you stare at her in disbelief, her smile widens and all fight leaves your body. What were you supposed to do about that? You were a puddle for pretty women — a puddle for Azzi, honestly — and your resolve should be commended for maintaining months of friendship with Azzi. 

The two of you find a secluded booth towards the back of the ice cream shop. Azzi shares her midterm grade — a solid 100, and you whistle lowly. “I got an 89,” you say, not hurt by it at all. As long as it was above an 80, you could care less. “You sure you still need me?”

Azzi swirls her ice cream around her bowl, suddenly quiet. The realization dawns on you immediately. Your words were meant to be a joke, but the truth to them stuns you. You really hoped Azzi would say, ‘of course not, it’s not like that!’ but her silence keeps you guessing. 

“I have a confession to make,” she says after a beat, finally glancing up at you. The vulnerability and nervousness makes your heart fall out of your ass. “Promise it won’t make anything weird?”

You open your mouth just to close it again. You clear your throat. “Promise, Az,” you say finally. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she says quickly. “Um, so here’s the thing. I struggled a lot with the first problem set. You know, the one I needed the tutor for?” You nod, confused by her words. “You helped a lot. And, like, I haven’t really needed actual tutoring in weeks. I just really liked spending time with you.” You blink at her. She stares at you right back, brows furrowed with guilt and her doe eyes wide. “I’m sorry. You must feel like I wasted your time.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, and Azzi pouts. “Az. I thought you were about to dump me,” you explain. “Plus, I kinda figured after a while we were just like, studying together, and not me actually tutoring.”

She sighs, burying her face in her hands. You laugh again, pushing your leftover ice cream towards her. Azzi glances up again, her eyes soft and fond. “I guess I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.”

“You never needed one,” you tell her honestly, and a blush creeps up her neck. 

“You’re not really picking up what I’m putting down, are you?”

Her words almost make you recoil. It’s no secret at this point that you can be a little oblivious, but her words make your heart skip a beat. “Az, I have no idea what you’re putting down,” you admit.

“So, I just admitted to you that I liked spending time with you and lied about needing study help just so I’d have an excuse to hang out with you,” Azzi confirms. “We are sitting here, alone, after a game while my teammates celebrate at Ted’s. All of that, and you have no idea what I’m putting down?”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” you say smartly. 

“Yeah.”

“So, you like me?” you ask just to be one hundred percent sure. 

She smiles at you. You’re certain your heart almost stops beating. “How could I not?” she asks like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You make me laugh. You’re always so patient with me, you make me feel seen — like I can just be myself. It’s… hard to find something genuine like this. You don’t expect anything from me.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say simply. 

Her eyes confirm everything for you. You’re not observant, sure, but your main priority has always been what was directly in front of you. And right now, it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Azzi. Azzi’s eyes are so soft, kinder than anything you’ve ever seen before. They hold so much understanding but there’s also a silent plea of let this be mutual that you’re too happy to give into. 

“I’ve been falling for you for a while,” you admit, and her face brightens. Your shoulders feel lighter; carrying around your feelings has burdened you, but if it’s the price you had to pay to make sure Azzi felt comfortable and that she could have friendships without people taking advantage of her celebrity, then so be it. You’d bear a lot more for her if it ever came down to it. “I kept it to myself for a while,” you continued. “You deserve normal. A friendship without expectations. But, God, Az, how could anyone not fall for you?”

Azzi’s cheeks flush a pretty red. You can’t help but smile at her, growing a little braver, and you slide your hand across the table. She wastes no time before intertwining your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

She walks you home that night, refusing to let go of you until you’re halfway through your doorstep. She stops you; her height would be intimidating if you didn’t know she was the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. “Can I…” She trails off, her hands gentle on your waist. 

You don’t need much more convincing — you loop your arms around her neck and tug her down to your height, planting your lips on hers with a softness that she eagerly reciprocates. You can taste the vanilla on her lips, the sweetness of the cookie dough, and the promise of something distinctly reminiscent of Azzi Fudd. You’re suddenly thankful for KK’s stupid live, for Crumbl cookie, for the accounting class you shared together. It’s all led you to where you are now, in Azzi’s arms outside of your apartment, overcome with the knowledge that all of this is so new, but you have everything you could have possibly wanted.

(You ask her to officially be your girlfriend two weeks after that, having been on three dates since — it’s only after you pop the question and the two of you are settling in to watch a movie that she admits to you the real reason she was struggling so bad with the problem sets was because she’d spend entire lecture periods staring at you. You roll your eyes, feeling inexplicably cared for in a way you haven’t experienced before Azzi, and your only true response to her confession is the lingering kiss you place on her lips.)

[starrygazers]

in my streamer era?!

aka: modern au streamer characters and their life with you.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ felt like writing smth more lighthearted (once again procrastinating on my homework)

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : modern au, fluff, crack

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei, Phainon

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phainon ➤ vlogs, irl streams

Phainon loves traveling and talking to people, which makes him the perfect irl streamer. he has a large following due to the fact that he's so polite and friendly to everyone, but somehow his streams always go wrong in the funniest, murphy's-law-esque way

he's streaming in a restaurant and reviewing the food and the next moment a waiter trips and spills a water jug right to his camera and lowers the video quality for the rest of the stream

or he'd be doing a grocery run and the things that he wants are all gone, and he has to ride the bus to the grocery store that's further away, and the bus would blow a tire in the middle of the highway so now he's hungry and stranded with no groceries

these somewhat harmless, silly and unexpected situation keeps his viewers entertained, and the fact that he's always so optimistic about it has viewers donating to his streams to cheer him up whenever something goes wrong

his mods are so protective of him that if anyone starts trolling they'd be banned in an instant

when he first met you, it was by chance, and you don't recognize him (he's a niche even on streaming sites; his fans gatekeep him because they don't want people trolling this nice boy)

he falls in love with you immediately, and it's so obvious by the way he talks about you on stream.

"chat, there's this person," he lays the camera down on the counter and starts unloading his groceries. "and they're so... like... I don't know how to say it. they're so pretty, but also so scary to talk to, but it's not because they're mean or anything, I think it's a me problem. do you guys ever feel like that about someone?"

of course, his chat teases him relentlessly about his newfound crush

once he finally has the guts to ask you out (someone sent him a super donation telling him to, and he feels bad not doing it), you say yes, and he's over the moon.

he introduces you to his chat, and even though you're a bit confused and new to all of this, your personality balances out with Phainon's so well that his community can't help but love you

he doesn't film all your dates; in fact, he rarely ever does. whenever you're on stream, it's because you're both spending time chilling or cooking or doing grocery runs together. he likes to keep a small portion of his life private, and he doesn't want you to feel like you're a tool for his moneymaking scheme.

overall, he's such a nice understanding boyfriend, and if having a camera around you is too much then he'll respect your space and schedule his streams around days that he'll spend alone so he can have you all to himself without any distractions.

Mydei ➤ fighting games, tourneys

you can't convince me this man isn't some sort of fighting game god, particularly tekken, mortal kombat, smash, or something in the likes

he'll spend hours just 1v1-ing randoms on the internet, and he's got his friend code public for anyone who wants to try to challenge him.

this obviously brings a lot of traction because there are a lot of tryhards who want to test if Mydei's the real deal (he is, and he does so while talking shit and not breaking a sweat)

fans enjoy his straightforward, no-bullshit commentary (roasts) while he destroys players with a straight face. it's almost comedic how such a stoic man could have such a petty personality, and chat always teases him for it, but he could not care less (whatever brings in the bag)

"Get out of here if you can't even jablock, man. All that big talk for you to not even take a stock from me is just embarrassing," he spits out. "You're so mean, he's trying his best, yeah, sure, chat. He should try his best recovering from the sauce I'm about to do to him."

he'll sometimes do irl streams when he's in tournaments. he'll do a hotel tour (begrudgingly, because he keeps getting donations forcing him to do it)

he's by no means funny because he tries to be. people just find his mean commentary and resting bitch face amusing, and he's also good looking, so he has a lot of fangirls

he's been in a relationship with you since before he started streaming. matter of fact, you were the one who suggested streaming (because if he's going to spend that many hours on something might as well try to make money from it)

you often walk in on him while he's in his man cave, and you'll stay a bit to chat with him or interact with the chat

if his fangirls are mean to you, they get banned immediately ("MODS!!!! GET THEM THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!")

he's very proud to call himself your boyfriend. Whenever someone tries to flirt with you in chat, he'll have a quip comeback of some sort about how they can try but you're in a very healthy, very secure relationship

he is unfortunately the type of streamer to have lots of tiktok edits to chase atlantic songs (iykyk)

but he'll only repost his fan edits shipping him and you <3

definitely the type of guy to wear an ugly "I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND" t-shirt out in public, he's just a nerd like that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 3.

Prev Next

Jason remember the day she was born. He hadn't been Robin for very long, a few months maybe. One day, he had gone to school and came back to a baby girl, a somber Bruce, an exhausted Alfred, and the rare sight of Dick Grayson. Information came in a blur over the next week as the manor changed to accommodate an infant. She was Bruce's biological daughter. Her mother had been his secretary at Wayne Enterprises and had died during childbirth. Eventually at the will reading, the girl was given her mother's diary and her name (First and Middle Name) Wayne.

As Robin, that little twerp had him wrapped around her finger. As soon as she babbled her first word with those tiny graby hand, he was her's. "Jaja."

Him, Bruce, and Alfred had taken turn looking after her. Jason remember teaching her how to read. Holding her in his arms as they both sounded out words. The old copy of Grimms Fairy Tales being her favorite book to read together, "I wanna be like you and read lots of stories."

That was his last memory with her as Robin. He died two weeks later and took her happy childhood with him to the grave. Dick and Barbara had explained that after his death Bruce threw himself into work. Alfred while providing for her had become distant. Dick told Jason he couldn't look at the girl without seeing Jason next to her. Barbara admitted she didn't know how to talk to the girl anymore. She couldn't explain why she was in the wheelchair instead of walking. Nobody could explain to her why Jason didn't come home one night and they buried him later.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, no one explained that either. (Name) was four and still scared to sleep with her closet door open. They were all certain hearing about Jason in that state, the pit madness consuming him would scare her. Plus he had become dangerous.

For some reason instead of being mad at her, he was mad for her. She was dismissed so frequently by the others. Tim seem uncomfortable near her. He later learned that's because she had gotten mad at him for wearing the Robin costume. "That's Jason's not your's." It made him swell with pride, out of everyone she hadn't replaced him.

Yet, when the rage dissipated and he returned to the family he couldn't look at her. He still felt too dangerous. Like he would snap and say or do something that would break her. So he pretended to not hear her. Pointedly ignore the seven-year-old asking him to play, what book he was reading, or can he help with homework. More importantly he ignored the questions he didn't know how to answer. "Where did you go Jay? Did I do something wrong?" Suddenly he couldn't blame Barbara and Dick for avoiding her.

When she was eight, he finally didn't feel as dangerous. The explanation would be messy but he could do it. He just wanted his little sister back. He could finally explain to her what happened.

She wasn't in the manor. Jason had begun to panic. Had she accidentally wonder off the grounds? Or been kidnapped? No, this couldn't happen not when he was finally going to get her back. Alfred walked into the kitchen and when he asked about his sister, he felt his world stop. "Master Bruce took her to see Master Dick before send her off to boarding school."

Just like that he had lost his chance to explain on an August wind. He shouldn't have been surprised really. She was smart enough to ace any entrance exam. Hopefully at this new school she wouldn't be as miserable. People would notice her and love her like he should have. She wouldn't be turned away, ignored, or given false promises like at the manor. So Jason let her go.

Now sitting in this family meeting in the batcave, he really wish he hadn't. One look around the table told him that everyone was thinking something along the same lines. The information Alfred had just revealed boiled his blood. He felt dangerous again, expected this time he didn't care. "You're telling me she never arrived at that boarding school and has been god knows where for the past two years?"

"There were several things that went wrong." Dick ran his hand over his face slouching down in his chair. Jason felt himself shaking with rage. Clearly multiple things had gone wrong if they had lost a literal human being for two years.

"First there was mix up on who was taking her to boarding school. Bruce thought Alfred was taking her because that’s was what was orginially agreed upon so Bruce could visit me in Blüdhaven. However Alfred received a message the day before from 'Bruce' saying that (Name) begged to see me before leaving for school so she was with him. The story went that Bruce would drop her off at the airport and a school attendant would pick her up. Bruce never actually sent those messages." Dick showed phone logs on the batcomputer's screen. Alfred did receive those messages but the logs didn't show Bruce sending them.

Tim leaned forward, "Okay but when she didn't show up Bruce or Alfred should have been notified."

The screen shifted showing a school file for (Name). Barbara took over explaining this time. "The school did notify someone but it wasn't Bruce or Alfred." She held up a paper file and passed it around, "this a copy of the admission paper Alfred sent to the academy. The batcomputer is showing what the school had on file for her. The mailing address and phone numbers are wrong. We have reason to suspect that someone changed them to keep her disappearance unnoticed for longer."

Steph shook her head, "Okay so that's why the school didn't alert us but what about the accountant. Looking at these papers her tuition was $95000 a year. That's almost 8,000 a month. If she wasn't attending the school, they wouldn't have accepted the tuition payments. Or her allowance, she was spending it right?"

"The payments were still being made." Alfred spoke this time. Jason growled lowly. Whatever the accountant was doing, be it embezzlement or fraud it had kept his sister in a dangerous spot for two years. The fucker was going to pay for that, most likely in blood. "As of current we are uncertain where the funds disappeared. Whether someone in the school or the accountant himself has taken them."

"I placed a tracker on the next payment so we can follow it." Barbara offered.

Jason stood and turned for his bike. He needed to do something other than sit there. The answer was not going to walk into cave and drop at their feet. Dick got out of his seat, hurrying to grab Jason's shoulder, "where are you going?"

"To interrogate that piece of shit accountant." Jason shoved Dick out of the way. Dick began to get ready to say something but paused. They turned to see Duke run into the room holding his helmet and utility belt.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I took (Name) to the mall and lost track of time." Jason froze at her name. Going to the mall was a normal thing to be doing. If she was acting normal than maybe he still had a chance. Just as he was about to ask how she was Duke continued speaking, "Oh Alfred, I was looking for you. (Name) said her card was stolen by someone at that boarding school she went to and she needed you to call the bank to cancel it."

Tension rippled in the room. Jason felt his lip twitch behind his helmet. "What?"

Duke froze looking to the table for help. Than the computer screen showing all the evidence. Steph gave him a nervous half smile, "You're going want to seat down for this."

Ra's Al Ghul stared at the surveillance images his daughter had set before him. The girl was young and in the still shots appeared to be relatively weak. Yet he could see what his daughter was talking about. Her potential was evident in that she was partially obscure in all but one picture. In the picture she wasn't obscured in, she instead blended in with the crowd of people. Just a girl walking down the street.

"There's also these two videos, Father." Talia held a tablet out to him. The first video was loaded waiting for him to press play. It showed one armed pursuer chasing the girl from one alleyway to another. In a few seconds he watched as she spun in a circle while still running. The pursuer stumbled, clutched at his throat, before falling to the ground. The girl was down the alleyway before the body had hit the pavement.

He raised an eyebrow. Her form in those few seconds could use work but the framework was there. Especially since she didn't stumble or hesitate before throwing her weapon. Potential indeed.

The second video showed her running off screen. She had a wound to her face and another weeping blood from her stomach. The girl was stumbling and grabbing walls for support. She remained off screen for eleven seconds before reappearing. Both of her wounds were gone. Her movements had returned to normal, not even a slight limp. She turned to the camera and threw a misshapen bullet at it, causing the lens to crack.

Ra's watched that video again. There was no jump in time stamp or clipping of the video. He looked to his daughter. She smiled slyly at him, "She appears to be a meta human with an enhanced healing ability. I've seen it in person. Imagine the fighter she could be with that kind of gift. Plus she has the makings, no hesitation, doesn't flinch at pain, and she already knows some kind of stealth."

He considered her words carefully. All good qualities for an assassin. Qualities they typically had to train into their pupils but she already had them. Ra's looked to the paused video again. It was showing her face glaring at the camera. He froze.

Ra's Al Ghul knew that look. He had seen it before over 600 years ago. It had belong to a different girl back than. One so powerful and feared the Spanish had sent an army just to ensure she burned. A woman who now rest at the bottom of a special Lazarus Pit. He had always wonder what became of her gifts. "What was this girl's name again?"

"(Name) Wayne."

"A Wayne? Perhaps she is worth our time."

You were stuck somewhere between screaming and slamming your head into a wall. Once you and Duke had gotten home, he had helped you carry your bags to your room before leaving. That was fine by you, you needed time to think through your plan. Yet as you worked on that you were met with more questions and more problems.

Mainly, School. With the lie being in that you were attending boarding school, you were expected to be educated. Yet the experiments had refused to provide you with any learning matter.

Yes a part of that was probably, okay 100% your fault. Though you fully admit when you stole that pencil and threw it at that one guy, you didn't expect to hit him in the eye. Attempting to use it to remove his eye once you realize it was stuck there... you plead the fifth.

The real issue was that you were expected to be at or around a 4th grade level. Maybe not so much to those who know about the experiments but to those who didn't know. You needed to play into the boarding school lie until you could weed out who knew.

Second was self defense. You were good at throwing things, scalpels being your weapon of choice to escape. But that was limited in use. Up close your main method of defense was escape by breaking your own bones or hapzardly stabbing their wrist. You couldn't fight without injuring yourself which was always a risk. So far you had gotten lucky in that no one expected your unhinged behavior but you couldn't rely on luck.

This investigation was going to get dangerous and quick. Not being able to fight was a disadvantage. Your head was spinning with all the things you needed to figure out. It was making planning... messy. You had to focus on one thing right now so you could get some clarity.

You read through the messy pages of your notebook. There were three pages of questions, two pages of miscellaneous information, and a page dedicated to things you would need to get or do. The best thing to do was choose one item from all of them that connected in some way. School kept coming to your mind.

On the questions page a particular one stuck out to you. "Was there boarding school tuition being paid?" Underneath it you had written two more questions with lines connecting them to the first. "If so did the money go to the experiments?" Another line pointing to the second question making a little triangle. "Did Bruce know where the money was going?"

That seemed like a good place to start. It would give you solid ground to build your case against him on. You flipped to the information page. Sure you could start by digging around Bruce's office for financial states. That however seemed like a bad idea. It would tip someone off that you were investigating and it was too early for that.

The perfect piece of information jump out to you. They were having issues getting supplies from a Sionis because he wanted more money. Money that Davis wouldn't cough off up. Sionis was more the supplier so he wouldn't be connected to the money but Davis. You needed to find out more about that person to answer your first question.

Finally you turned to your needs page. The biggest thing on there was catching up on your schooling. Even if it didn't directly benefit your investigation being stuck at a second grade reading and math level was not ideal. As a kid you had prided yourself in being oddly intelligent. Connecting dots and lessons before the other kids. If there was one thing you didn't want to lose to the experiments it was your pride. Plus it would give you an excuse to research forensic, medical, and computer sciences. All things that would you help put together the information the scientists let slip around you cause you couldn't understand them.

Now it was planning time. How to accomplish these goals? If Davis was connected to your father than your best option was probably talking to Alfred or Tim. You did mention needing Alfred to turn off the debit card your allowance went into when you were out with Duke. Maybe you could just check in with Alfred, mention needing to get in contact with the family accountant to dispute charges on a stolen card. Maybe let the name Davis slip in the conversation. That would work right?

As for the schooling, you needed a tutor. All your family members were off limits so you would have to find one independent of them. Where did people go to find tutors and learning?

"Looks like I have to make a trip to the library tomorrow."

Prev Next

A special thank you to my Taglist, you guys are awesome:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae

[covenofagatha]

alright alright i’m thinking dub!con modern/nonmagic au.. into something rough and/or bondage. we love the age gap. i’m leaving a lot of holes lmfao i will talk shop if you want specifics baby

finally finished omg

hope everyone enjoys

title is from Chains by Nick Jonas cause why not

Chains for your love

When you're house sitting for your neighbors Agatha and Rio, you decide to throw a party and they are not happy when they find out

Word count: 3400

Warnings: dubcon, smut, rough sex, bondage (handcuffs), vibrators, fingering, spanking, choking, threesome, might be missing one or two sorry if so, age gap (all legal)

Your neighbors would kill you if they found out what you were doing right now. 

Agatha and Rio, the couple next door, had asked you to house sit for them while they were on vacation to Cabo for a week as a favor to your mom. 

You had just graduated from high school and she said, and you quote, “you need to get your lazy butt off the couch and do something with your life or so help me.” 

So when Agatha mentioned to her that they were leaving for a while, your mom had thrown you under the bus. 

You didn’t know much about your neighbors, only that they were two smoking hot older women who were kind of crazy. You had also barely ever interacted with them, always at school or doing homework when they came over to have lunch with your mom. 

Agatha is about ten years older than her wife, with long dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Her fashion sense is always on point and her veiny hands do things to you. 

Rio, while pale and a brunette as well, is tall and lean, and very intense. Her hazel eyes bore into you whenever you’d come downstairs to get a glass of water, like she knew something that you didn’t. When she looks at you like that, you can’t help but squirm and wonder if you did something wrong. And yet, for some reason, you find it hot.

All you had to do while they were gone was stop by, water their plants, collect their mail, and make sure their house was in order. 

Which you did, perfectly, you might add. 

It just so happened that on the last night of house sitting, you were supposed to go to a party at your friend’s house to celebrate the end of senior year, but her parents came home early so she needed to move it. 

And you had the brilliant idea to use the giant, empty house at your disposal. 

Cue the music, lights, and drinks. 

“This is so nice of your neighbors to let us use their house!” Your best friend Wanda yells at you. 

You laugh, pretending not to have heard her over the bass, because they certainly did not. 

In fact, you think, you think they would be quite opposed to it. 

Agatha and Rio were quiet people; they didn’t like mess, especially in their house.

And this here, with Jimmy Woo throwing up in the bathroom and Natasha Romanoff knocking over a bottle of beer on the ground and two people making out in the pool, was as messy as it could get. 

You’re on your second wine cooler, feeling it start to hit, and you stumble around the living room, trying to assess the damage before the party is even over. 

It may have gotten more out of hand than you were intending it to. When you had told your mom what you were doing, you had mentioned having a few people over for pizza, and she had said that if it got out of hand, or if she heard about even one thing being out of place when Agatha and Rio got back, she would, and you quote, “ground your butt until you graduated from college.” 

You almost pointed out the irony of her wanting you to do something, but the moment you were going to, she threatened to not let you do anything for the next four years, but decided against it. 

“Here!” A bottle of beer is pressed into your hand and you turn to find Darcy Lewis standing there. Even though you shouldn’t, you take a swig and Wanda leaves to go find her boyfriend. “Cool party!” 

“Thanks!” You shout back and she giggles before taking your hand and leading you into the kitchen, where it’s a little quieter. You haven’t talked to Darcy that much, but she was in two of your classes and you know she’s going to MIT. 

“Got any summer plans?” She asks but she slurs the words. You laugh like it’s the funniest thing ever. “What?” 

You point at her, almost doubling over. “You’re so drunk!” 

She looks scandalized for a second, raises her hand to fix her glasses, and then becomes hysterical too. “So are you!” 

The next thing you know, Darcy and you are kissing. 

You’re not sure who started it, but her mouth is against yours and your tongue is in her mouth. 

You pull back, there’s some eye contact, and then the two of you crack up again and she goes outside to the patio.��

Drunken makeout accomplished and your head sufficiently spinning from the two and a half drinks now, you make it a mission to start cleaning up. 

You’ve collected half a trash bag full of cans when people start pouring out of the house, telling you to “stay in touch!” and “have fun at college!” and then it’s just you in the house. 

There’s still a lot to clean up, but you’re tired and sloshed, so you set an alarm on your phone for six in the morning so you can get up and tidy up the rest before Agatha and Rio get home. 

You pass out on the couch immediately. 

Which turns out to be a huge mistake, because when you finally wake up in the morning, your neighbors are sitting in the chairs across from the coffee table, both wearing matching displeased looks. 

You shoot up, scrambling into a sitting position, heart pounding. “What–” You furiously tap your phone to find out why the alarm didn’t go off, but it doesn’t turn on. 

Of course it died. 

Rio chuckles, leaning back and crossing a leg over the other, amused with your panic. “Care to explain what happened here last night, doll?” 

Your cheeks redden and you try to think of something that won’t get you in trouble because it seems like you are fucked. “I had some friends over,” you say, and it sounds pathetic even to your ears.

Agatha tuts and rests her elbows on her knees. “‘Some friends?’ Angel, have you seen what our house looks like?” 

You gulp and take a look around, dread sinking deeper into your stomach. The pieces of glass that no one picked up. All the cans and bottles you missed. A sweatshirt thrown onto the floor. Pizza crusts and plates scattered across the furniture. 

“I was going to clean it up, I swear,” you say, your throat suddenly really dry. 

“Oh, and,” Rio says, so cheerful for no reason. You can only imagine what she’s going to say, but she takes out her phone and taps the screen. You raise an eyebrow and she turns it to you. 

At first, you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, but then it becomes clear. 

It’s a recording of you and Darcy making out in their kitchen, the angle from somewhere on the counter. 

You lurch back on the couch. “You were spying on me?” You hiss, feeling violated.

Agatha rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Please, darling, this is our house, we can do whatever we want in it. Plus, we weren’t sure if we could trust such an immature, young thing like you and clearly, we couldn’t.” 

The jab about your age makes you angry. “I’m not that young and I’m not immature!” You say indignantly. 

“Making out like a slut with the first girl who gives you attention while drunk at a lame high school party?” Rio taunts, standing up and sliding next to you on the couch. You feel the pit in your stomach grow when Agatha does the same on the other side. You’re not sure who to look at. “Seems like something a childish brat would do.” 

“And now, we think there should be consequences,” Agatha coos, hand coming to brush a piece of your hair back behind your ear. Fear spikes through your veins. 

“Please don’t tell my mom! She can’t find out about this, I’ll be in so much trouble,” you beg and Agatha smirks. You jump when you feel Rio’s hand touch your thigh and you freeze when it slides up to the hem of your short skirt.

“So you don’t want us to tell your mom,” Rio muses, toying with the edge of the fabric. You have to bite back a moan and it becomes hard to breathe. “I guess that means we’ll have to punish you some other way for creating such a mess.” 

“What did you–” You have to stop to swallow roughly. “What did you have in mind?” 

Agatha hums lowly. “We need to make sure you learn your lesson, no matter how hard we have to beat it into you.” You whimper and pray that neither of them heard it. 

But of course they did.

Rio snickers and cups your pussy, all the air being punched out of your lungs. “God, she’s dripping, Aggie,” she says and your face burns hotter than it ever has. 

You shake your head, denying how much you actually want this, and try to clamp your legs close, but Agatha pries one open and Rio moves her fingers up and down your clothed slit. 

“We can always go next door and tell your mom,” Agatha warns and that’s all it takes to convince you. You turn to Rio, wrap your arms around her, and pull her in for a kiss. 

Immediately, Agatha yanks you back by your hair and Rio slaps you across the face. It’s not hard enough to seriously hurt, but the sting makes you gasp. 

“Bedroom, now,” Agatha barks and practically drags you off the couch and up the stairs, Rio practically cackling while she follows. 

You’re thrown onto the bed in the room that you may have snooped through a few times this week. Enough times to find all of their toys in their bedside drawer and imagine the women using them on each other. 

The same nightstand where Rio is heading toward now. You watch her saunter over, lips parting, but Agatha roughly grabs your chin and forces your mouth open with her thumb. 

“Don’t look at her,” she growls and leans down to whisper in your ear, “If you ever want us to stop, say purple.” 

The second you nod, she spits directly into your mouth. A strangled moan leaves your throat and Agatha slides two fingers inside your mouth to spread her saliva all over your tongue. You gag around them as she pushes them deeper and you feel tears pricking your eyes. She scrapes her nails against your tongue and you roll it up to flick at her fingers, not missing the way she bites her lip. 

And then she flips you over so your stomach is on the bed, hikes your skirt over your ass, and spanks you. The impact reverberates through your body and the sound echoes throughout the room.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“A young thing like you shouldn’t be using such dirty language,” Agatha tsks and slaps you again. “That’s for kissing that whore in our kitchen.” 

Again. 

“That’s for leaving a mess all over our house.” 

Again. 

“That’s for proving us wrong when we thought we could trust you.” 

Again. 

“That’s for making us punish you the second we get back from our lovely vacation.” 

Again. 

“And that is for teasing us all those times at your house when you’d come downstairs dressed in barely anything. It’s like you wanted us to notice how desperate you were for us,” she snaps. 

You’ve dissolved into a moaning, sniveling puddle on their bed but the thought that you’ve been unknowingly turning this couple on makes you even hotter inside. 

Agatha reaches down to the crotch of your underwear and laughs meanly. “God, you’re so fucking wet, did being spanked like a slut turn you on?”

While you consider yourself a proud person, there’s absolutely no pride in the way you nod your head so hard it hurts. 

She tears your panties off and shoves two fingers in you without preamble. A loud sound rips out of your mouth and your body rocks forward with the force. She fucks you with a brutal pace and it’s exactly what you need, but then she pulls out and slaps you harder than before on the ass. You groan, absorbing the hit, and you feel yourself clench around nothing. 

You need her fingers back inside you, but she turns you back over and you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

Rio comes back into view with two pairs of fluffy handcuffs and a few other toys. “Get against the headboard,” she orders and you scramble to obey. She hands one pair to Agatha and they both make quick work of chaining one cuff to your wrist and the other to the bedside post. You give an experimental tug of both hands and while you can wiggle your arms and wrists comfortably, there’s no getting out. 

The two women come back around the bed to face you and you squirm under their direct attention. 

“What do you think we should do with our naughty little plaything?” Rio asks, tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek, eyes lighting up with possibilities. 

They fall into these roles so well and you can only imagine what it’s like when the two of them have sex. 

“I think we should fuck her until she can’t take anymore and she’s begging for us to stop,” Agatha muses with a smirk. Your breath catches at her idea. 

“I think the slut likes that sound of that,” Rio says and Agatha nods in agreement. “Maybe we hold the vibrator against her until she cries. What do you think, doll?” She raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Whatever you want, please just touch me,” you beg. 

Agatha bends over to run a finger up your thigh, watching how you shake. “Be careful what you wish for, angel.” She crawls onto the bed so she’s kneeling in front of you and once again, pushes two fingers forcefully into your dripping pussy. She’s not gentle at all, curling her fingers and scraping her nails against your insides, but it’s perfect. 

You struggle against the handcuffs, wishing you could touch her, but Rio tuts, takes off her pants and underwear, and moves to straddle your stomach, blocking Agatha partially from your view. 

Your breath hitches as she pulls up the crop top from the party last night and lowers her wet cunt onto your abs and lightly grinds. Her head falls back and you think you could cum from the feeling of her against you like that.

And then she starts moving faster just as Agatha does, her fingers filling you and fucking you just how you need it, and Rio’s right hand comes to clasp around your throat. You throb around Agatha’s fingers and you had no idea that would be such a turn on for you. 

Agatha’s thumb presses down so hard on your clit that it almost hurts while she keeps her merciless pace and your hips start to buck against her fingers. Rio squeezes harder and the lightheadedness you feel only drags you closer to the edge. Her nails dig into your skin and you think you might die from how good it feels. 

“Are you going to cum for us?” Agatha asks from behind the woman riding your stomach faster. 

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, seeing Rio’s delighted face on top of you. 

And then Agatha pulls her fingers out of you and you whine loudly, only for her to slap your pussy hard. 

You can hear the wetness. 

And then you can hear buzzing. 

Agatha presses something against your clit and you almost jump out of your skin. 

It’s the vibrator and you’re guessing she turned it up to one of the highest settings. It’s so intense on you and you can’t help but cry out as it sends you straight into an orgasm. Being breathless from Rio’s hand around your throat only increases the pleasure and you’ve never felt anything like that before.

You expect some relief from the assault on your clit but it never comes. Agatha holds it against you while Rio slips a finger down to her own pussy to get more direct stimulation where she needs. The woman on top of you is beginning to fall apart and it only heightens your own sensitivity. 

The vibrations have your hips rolling and you quickly cum again, and this time, you try to close your legs or scooch up the bed to get it off, but Agatha doesn’t let you. 

She rakes her nails on your leg and then you feel her roughly bite your inner thigh. You gasp and your hips buck up, almost throwing Rio off. 

Rio finally takes her hand off your throat and bends down over you so she can suck marks into your collarbones as well. 

Both their mouths on you and the vibrations still on your clit throw you right over the edge again. 

This time, Agatha does move it away from you and you can finally breathe.

But not for long, because Agatha slides a finger back inside your sopping cunt and lazily fucks you. Rio’s panting on top of you and she finally buckles with pleasure as she cums for the first time. It’s the hottest thing ever, the way she tosses her head back and seizes up, small sounds falling out of her mouth.

Once Rio comes down from her high, she gets off you, smirking at the glistening wetness on your stomach. You gape down at them as she joins Agatha to watch her fuck you. 

And then your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back in your head when Rio pushes a finger into you too. 

Fuck. 

You have both of them inside you. 

They move in sync, dragging their fingers out and thrusting back into you at the same time, and you groan loudly. 

“How does it feel, angel?” Agatha says, voice thick and low. 

“Feels so good,” you babble, sweat breaking out on your forehead as you raise your hips to meet them. 

“Does our little slut need to cum over both our fingers?” Rio taunts. 

Your head falls to the side, blissed out with the feeling of them both curling and pressing on that spot inside you that you can rarely get to on your own. Your stomach is almost cramping and your arms are aching from pulling so hard on the cuffs. “Yes, please, fuck, wanna cum, so close.” 

And then they pull out of you at the same time like they planned it and you clench needily around nothing, your hips still undulating. 

“Wait, what, why?” You wail and they start laughing at you. “No, no, come on, please.” You pull at your restraints like that will do anything and Agatha harshly slaps the inside of your thigh where she bit you earlier, and it makes you jump. 

“Stop being a greedy little slut,” she scolds. Rio walks over and unlocks the handcuffs from you so you can sit up. “You already came twice. Maybe you’ll think twice about using our house for an orgy next time.” 

“It wasn’t an orgy!” You protest and Rio rolls her eyes and grabs your jaw roughly. 

“We don’t care if it was your fucking church group,” she snarls. “You made a mess and hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You slouch, still feeling desperate. You can still feel both their hands in you, twisting and fucking you so well, and you don’t think you’re bound to forget that anytime soon. 

“Well, angel, did you learn your lesson?” Agatha presses and you petulantly nod. 

Not exactly beating their young and immature allegations anytime soon. Who cares though. 

“You better get home before your mom starts to worry and thinks we’re torturing you,” Rio says, playful glint in her eye.

“Cause that would be so far from the truth,” you mutter and Agatha swats your leg again. 

“Get out of here,” she says. “Maybe next time we go out of town, we can see if you were actually paying attention.” 

All you know is that next time they leave, you’re going to throw an even bigger party. 

[belowablue]

Definitely Not Boyfriend Material - James Potter x Reader

Part 2/3. Everyone say thank you to lilians17 and taypop21 without which this never would have happened. I also split this up so it wasn't ridiculously long, so expect part 3 sometime!

part 1 part 3 <3

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

It had been a week since your strange hookup with James Potter, but in that short amount of time your life had seriously deteriorated.  

When you told Lily that you’d slept with James she was firstly shocked that you’d actually gone thought with it and secondly somewhat superficial about the whole experience, which threw you off immensely. She didn’t ask half as many questions as you thought she would and mostly shut the topic down when you tried to bring it up. 

Majorly confused and slightly hurt that your best friend didn’t want to talk to you, you backed off completely. You two still spent a lot of time together, but you stuck to safe conversation topics like Flitwick’s latest essay or the Quidditch scores. You weren’t sure how you were going to talk about the gaping hole in your friendship but thankfully, she addressed it first. 

Cornering you in the library one afternoon she said your name softly, “Look I know I haven’t been the best friend lately.” 

Your brow furrowed, perplexed, but she carried on, “About James.”

You audibly gulped, preparing for a barrage of anger, but Lily quickly clarified, “I’m sorry I’ve let your, err, experience with him come between us I just-“ She sighed, ‘I just can’t understand why you did it.”

“I- what?” 

“Why! I mean, I thought we both hated him, I know after all he’s badgered me I do, so I thought that meant that you would too, but I guess not.”

She said all of that so quickly you had to think about it for a moment. 

“Lily,” You said slowly, “I told you that, if given the chance, I would shag him.” You stared at each other. “And you made no complaints then.” 

“I know,” She dragged a frustrated hand through her hair, “I just never thought you’d actually do it.”

You prickled. “So what, you don’t take anything I say seriously?” 

“No, no, no,” She said quickly, “Fuck no, of course I always take you seriously I just,” She paused again, clearly trying to articulate herself, “It was always something we'd joke about it. I didn’t think it would actually become real.” 

You stared at her, suddenly seeing everything from her point of view. One of her best friends spontaneously sleeps with the guy they’ve been making fun of for tormenting her for years. Yikes. When you put it like that…

“I don’t accept your apology Lily,” You said firmly. 

She gasped and her eyes filled with tears. She began to turn away but you grasped her arm to hold her firmly facing you. 

“I don’t accept it,” You continued, “Because I’m the one who should be apologising. You have done absolutely nothing wrong Lils, fuck I just went and shagged your own personal hell.”

The last line sounded slightly hysterical and Lily opened her mouth but you quickly continued, “I don’t know why I expected you to be okay with it all, fuck I'm so sorry Lily, Merlin please-.“

The look on her face made you pause. Though the tears were still in her eyes, she was smiling. 

You closed your mouth, afraid to shatter what you hoped you’d just fixed.

“It’s okay,” She said softly, “it’s alright.”

You shook your head vehemently. “It’s not alright Lily, I-”

Her expression made you stop again. “It is alright.” She gave a half-laugh, “Maybe it’ll get him off me.”

You cringed at that. 

“It’s not real,” You said firmly. “Sure James has proven he can be nice, but he’s still not demonstrated excellent boyfriend behaviour. He doesn’t help me with my homework or buy me flowers,” You said the next line quietly, somewhat ashamed to admit it to Lily but it was clearly something she needed to hear, “I think I’ve just become another notch in his belt. Another name added to the roster of girls he can call when he can’t be bothered to wank himself.”

Because it did hurt a little to say. After that morning you’d somewhat expected hand-written notes at breakfast or roses on your bedside table, but James had gone straight back to shouting his adoration for Lily from the Astronomy Tower.

You had to shake yourself quite hard to get over that dream. 

Lily sighed. “Well, he’s made us work on our communication anyhow.” 

You giggled and the tension between you two dissolved smoothly. 

She gathered up her things and you did too, feeling a thousand times lighter now you and Lily had talked this out. 

“Not even chocolates after he left those vicious bruises on your hips?” 

You let out a strangled laugh. “Not even then.”

She hummed, “Definitely not boyfriend material then.”

You nodded in agreement, wearily heading towards the exit. 

As you walked side by side, you thought 'fuck James Potter’ and then, even more angrily ‘fuck James Potter and his ability to cause arguments when he wasn’t even there. Fuck James Potter and his inability to grow up.’

Unbeknownst to you, James had caught the tail end of your conversation, having been loitering behind a bookcase once he realised Lily was there. 

Her words were bouncing around his head as he watched you go, ‘definitely not boyfriend material.’ 

Well then, he’d just have to work harder. 

——————————————————————————————————

After you and Lily made up you expected your life to go back to normal, minus the occasional Potter hookup. Merlin you could not have been anymore delusional if you’d actually tried. 

It started slowly. 

Your scarf, that had been missing for weeks, was placed on your bed one evening when you got back from dinner. Your books were organised in alphabetical order. All your hairpins that had become scattered across Gryffindor tower were studiously found and collected in a pretty flowery dish. Your ink pots were always full. Your makeup brushes were cleaned on a weekly basis. Your broomstick was polished after particularly muddy practices. 

It didn’t register for a while that someone was doing these things for you. You had been putting it down to house elves or sheer luck. It wasn’t until Marlene was talking about how her latest boy toy always made sure her water bottle had a slice of lemon in it that something slotted into place in your brain. 

Someone had been doing this for you. 

Someone had bothered to watch you so carefully that they knew what inconveniences you faced in life and magically fixed them all for you in a matter of weeks. 

But the annoying thing was you didn’t have a clue who could be doing this. Was it a crush trying to quietly make themselves known? Was it one of your friends who had suddenly gotten the idea to start doing anonymous good deeds? Or was it actually just overly devoted house elves? 

You didn’t know. After many consultations Lily decided she didn’t know either. You’d both agreed to keep an eye out for anyone displaying suspicious behaviour, but either they were really sneaky or you were really unobservant because you got nothing. 

Still, in someways it was nice to think that someone was looking out for you. Someone cared about you enough to help you out, with such mundane tasks too. And to top it all off, they helped you anonymously. They weren’t looking for praise. They didn’t want your open gratitude. They just wanted to make sure you were okay. That thought gave you a fuzzy feeling somewhere near your stomach and you had to suppress a smile when you were in public. 

However, your fretting over a potential stalker was soon overshadowed by one overwhelming fact. 

——————————————————————————————————

“Shut the fuck up.”

Lily sat opposite you on your bed, eyes shining bright. 

“No fucking way.”

She only nodded again, smiling too wide to utter a response. 

“You have a girlfriend. An actual whole real-life living breathing girlfriend.”

She nodded again. You threw your arms around her. 

“Ohmygod this is so exciting! Have you gone on a date yet?” You gasped loudly, “Have you kissed yet? Oh my days when can I meet her?” 

Lily laughed, pushing you back by your shoulders to face her, “Her name in Daisy. She’s the Hufflepuff I mentioned a while back.” 

You both had to pause then because you were squealing too loudly. 

She continued, “Yes, we went to Hogsmeade the other weekend, no we haven’t kissed.” She paused before adding “Yet.” 

You laughed, so overjoyed for her. “This has to be the best thing that’s happened all year!”

‘Well’ you thought, ‘Not for James.’

——————————————————————————————————

It was late one evening when you came through the portrait hole to see James hunched on the sofa by the fire, a box wrapped in pink paper in front of him. 

You paused. He looked upset. Should you go talk to him? But what would you even say. It’s not like you had any decent conversation starters for you ex friends with benefits. 

James turned slightly at the sound of someone coming in. 

“Oh it’s you.” He said. Your heart skipped a beat. Had he been… expecting you? 

‘Duh’ you told yourself, ‘it’s your common room too, you’d have to come through at some point.’

You didn’t know what to say so you stayed still. He got up, picked up the box and made his way over to you. Your heartbeat grew louder with each step he took, until he was in front of you and all you could hear was blood rushing in your ears. 

Wordlessly, he handed you the box. 

You gently pulled the pink tissue paper off to reveal a box of expensive chocolates. 

You stopped breathing. No way. No fucking way. There was absolutely no way that James had been behind this. That he was the reason your life had been going so smoothly lately. Had he really been creeping into your dorm to sort things out? 

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Oh my god he’s been in your dorm.

You quickly considered it. Had the thought you hadn’t dared to think actually come true? Did James Potter like you back? Oh he did. He must. That’s why he’s been helping you out, like a little helper elf or some shit. Your brain short-circuited, dizzy with excitement. James Potter liked you back! You hadn’t let yourself admit that you liked him in the first place, not when he so clearly felt nothing for you but now, now. Now you knew it was him who’d been acting like your boyfriend, making sure you had everything you wanted-

You looked at him, smiling. “James,” You said softly, reverently, “I-“

He looked up at you and your eyes met. Your smile faltered. He didn’t look anywhere near as excited as you. 

“Give those to Lily would you?” He said tiredly. Your heart dropped. “Or have them yourself I don’t really care.” 

He turned away, carding a hand through his hair. 

You were left standing there, mouth slightly open. “What?”

James laughed humourlessly. “Was gonna try ask her out again with those since she mentioned them, but I haven’t got a chance now that she bats for the other team.”

The words fell onto your ears and pierced your heart like bullets. Sure the news had gone round the castle but, ‘you thought that meant he would finally take an interest in you’ the voice in your head verbalised. 

Something about your reaction must have registered with James because confusion appeared on his face. You stared back, thinking. 

“You heard us?” You asked, “In the library?” 

James nodded. 

“Has it been you polishing my broomstick? Filling my ink pots?” You had to know.

“Yeah,” he said, still confused. “I thought you knew.”

You blanched. 

“I thought that if Lily heard from a source she trusted about how great of a boyfriend I can be she might warm up to me.”

Shakily, you clarified, “You did all those deeds, tasks, chores whatever for me, in order to show Lily how doting you are?”

He shrugged, “Was pointless anyway wasn’t it.” 

You couldn’t believe it.

Used. That was the only word to describe how you were feeling. James Potter had used you as a way to get at Lily. He had played with you like a chess piece, toying with your heart unknowingly as he made an effort to reach the girl he wanted. 

Something in his eyes cleared. "Wait,” he said slowly, “You didn’t think, you didn’t actually think I was going for you, did you?”

You could’ve died on the spot. Your heart was shattered into a thousand shards on the floor and James had just done a jig on the pieces.

Your silence was answer enough. He sighed irritably, “Listen,” he said your name, “You’re a real cute girl and all but-“

He had to duck quickly or risked receiving a black eye from the box of chocolates you launched at his head. 

“Fuck you James Potter,” you snarled at him, “Don’t you ever speak to me again.” 

You marched past him up to your dorm, willing the tears not to fall in front of him. He would not hurt you more than he already had. Fuck Lily was right, how could you have thought James would ever love anyone but her?

Behind you, James was staring at the staircase you where you had vanished. 

He’d never had that kind of reaction before. He’d expected more of a whining tantrum like the other girls gave when he ended things with them. Because it was always him doing the ending. He would’ve gladly still fucked you, and he was just about to tell you too when you forbade him from contacting you. But now, it sounded awfully like James Potter had been ended, which wasn’t the way things went at all.

The longer James stared, the more he realised he had a chase on his hands. And if there was one thing James Potter knew how to do, it was chase. 

AN: guys just know every time I see someone has interacted with my posts this is literally me on my phone, thank you all so much xxxx

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) VI

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia tries to talk to you

TW: discussions of eating disorder

It's reminiscent of that night all those years ago when Alexia came home and was shoved against her own wall by her sister.

It's funny how history repeats itself.

Alexia, back to the wall and unable to understand why and Alba, absolutely furious, being the one to hold her there.

"Alba?" Olga shrieks, standing up from her spot on the sofa.

Alba had one of the spare keys but usually, she didn't use it. Today she had though, bursting through the door like a woman on a mission and shoving Alexia up against the wall.

Jaume never saw the first time but he's heard about it. He couldn't have lived so long in this family without finding out about what happened when he was a baby. But, still, this is the first time he's seen Tia Alba angry at Mami and he watches with wide eyes from the top of the stairs.

"She's skin and bones!" Tia Alba hisses," I watched her today! She could barely stand up!"

"I know."

"And she...Wait, what?"

"I know, Alba." Alexia is calm even though her sister still has a tight grip on her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. "We know. We're trying to work out how to help."

Alba lets go of her, stepping away. "You know?"

Alexia nods. "We know. We're just trying to work out how. She always finishes dinner."

Guilt settles low in Jaume's gut as Mami, Mama and Tia Alba start discussing your eating habits.

You'd always been a bit peckish. You were never much of a big eater.

Jaume was the opposite. He was a growing boy. He ate a lot, especially on days with football training. He hadn't thought much of you offering your food to him, grateful that he wouldn't have to rifle through the fridge when Mami and Mama left the kitchen.

The topic of dinner comes up again and Jaume lingers on the bottom step, threading his fingers together anxiously.

"She..."

The three women fall silent as he steps into the light.

"What is it, Jaume?" Olga asks.

"Mama," He says, throat bobbing and tears welling in his eyes," I didn't...She never...I didn't know, Mama."

"Didn't know what? What is it?"

"Bambi...I..."

Alexia has always been his idol. She's a legend at Barcelona, captain of the club, captain of the country. Her trophies seemed endless and so did her awards. She was a World Cup winner. One of the greatest to ever play the game.

He wanted to be like her.

Her approval meant everything to him.

"Jaume," Alexia says," What is it? About Bambi? Tell us."

"I've been eating her dinner," He admits," When you and Mama turn your backs. She gives it to me."

Tia Alba noisily blows out air, hands cradling her head and Jaume can see the heartbreak on absolutely everyone's faces.

"Thank you for telling us," Alexia says," You're a good boy, Jaume."

Jaume's throat still feels tight though and guilt still swirls in his belly. "Is she...Is she going to be okay?"

No one answers.

It's a delicate situation to work around.

Alba drops hints during your weekly lunch. Olga keeps an eye on your snack breaks after school. Alexia tries to heap more food onto your plate.

You don't notice anything wrong though, apart from the fact that Jaume is suddenly not hungry anymore. He doesn't want your leftovers.

Alexia's the one to confront you, slipping into your room as you finish up some homework.

"Hey," She says.

"Hey." You finish off your last sentence before spinning around in your chair. "What's up?"

Your room has changed since you were little.

Most of your train tracks and little sets are packed away in the attic but your favourite models still litter your shelves. Your bed has gotten bigger and the bookshelf that used to be covered in children's stories is now full of textbooks and little dancing knickknacks like dead pointe shoes or worn-through ballet flats.

A desk has been moved in for you to complete your school work and your closet is now full of clothes you wanted to buy rather than what Alexia used to want you in.

Gone is the little girl with full, round baby cheeks and in her place is a teenager who's lost weight at an alarming rate.

Alexia can hardly believe it.

"I bought us ice cream."

She waves the tub teasingly at you and you pull a face.

"Sorry, Mami," You say," But I'm not hungry right now."

You spin your chair back to your desk.

Alexia spins it back.

You huff.

"Even just a little bit?" She asks," I can't finish this all by myself."

"Jaume's always hungry. Eat with him."

Something prickles down your spine.

Mami is acting weird like she knows something about you that you don't want her to know.

You stare across at her from the bank of a river. You're on one side. She's on the other. The river rushes between you, a gaping chasm that's getting more and more dangerous as it splashes at the banks.

"I can't eat with you?"

She's pushing now and you snap.

"Why does it matter? I'm not hungry! Drop it!"

Alexia's façade drops as well.

"You've not been eating," She says bluntly.

The water laps more furiously at the banks of the river, rushing towards to a waterfall. Alexia looks at you from across the bank. You stare back at her unblinking.

"Yes..." You say, frozen in place," Yes, I have. What are you talking about?"

"Are you an athlete?"

"What?"

"Do you consider yourself an athlete?"

You scoff, standing up. Your stomach swirls as blood rushes to your head. You feel a little woozy and light-headed but you force your way through it.

"Is this your way of saying that dance isn't active enough for you? Yes! Yes, I consider myself an athlete."

"Then why aren't you fuelling yourself like one?"

Alexia's being gentle about this, trying to coax you out of the corner you've found yourself trapped in. She should have been more subtle though, she realises with a jolt, because you're seconds away from bolting.

She reaches out for you across the bank, a simple hand.

You want to take it. You want her to throw a rope across for you. Something for you to hold and clutch as you swim over to her, to safety.

But you just can't.

Safety means questions and you don't want to answer her questions. You're sure she'll hate you for what she unearths. You're sure she'll look at you and not see her daughter looking back.

If you can't be perfect for her, if you can't be perfect for yourself then you're not worth anything to her.

Jaume has common interests with Mami. He plays football like she did. He plays well like she did. He's going to be world-class like she was.

You have little in common with Alexia but it doesn't make her love you any less. She adores you. She'd drop everything to make sure you're alright.

She doesn't care if you're not perfect. She doesn't care if you decide to quit ballet altogether. She just wants you to be alright.

But you just don't believe that.

You need perfection in yourself. You assume Alexia needs perfection from you as well.

She's staring across the bank from you, arm still out.

You reach for it but the river has gotten more aggressive. The mud on the bank is slippery.

You go straight in.

You try to inflate your lungs but all you can do is breathe in icy cold water as you're battered against the rocks.

You look at Alexia, still holding a tub of ice cream.

She looks at you.

You bolt.

Out of your room. Down the stairs. Out the door and down the street.

Alexia would run after you but she knows. She knows you so well. You'll just run from her and you're much fitter than she is right now. You'd get away quickly.

If she lets you go now then she'll at least know where you're going.

If she runs after you then you could go anywhere.

You're scared. Alexia has scared you.

It's a difficult conversation to have so Alexia lets you run. You need time to calm down, to prepare for this.

She's not happy. She can't be happy when you are starving yourself for reasons still unknown but she can be content with her decision to let you go for now.

You'll have run to somewhere you feel safe.

Alexia can be content.

Or, she's content for a few hours until she gets that call.

"Is this Alexia Putellas?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm just calling because you're put down at y/n's emergency contact? I'm afraid she's passed out in one of the practice rooms."

[soxcietyy]

Anatomy

Gojo x reader

18 + You’re about to take one of the most important exams. Unfortunately you suck at your anatomy and need to learn the material fast. Luck for you Gojo is good at everything, not only that but he’s also a teacher. Soon you learn about his odd teaching techniques.

"I don’t think I’ll be able to pass this test." You groan as you drink your coffee Shoko had bought you.

You were out with the two of your friends so they could cheer you up. As a healer you had to go the health care route in your studies but it wasn’t so simple.

"Why don’t you just cheat? Shoko is cheating!" Gojo looks at her before returning his gaze back at you.

You let out a deep sign as you slouch in your chair.

Just because she’s cheating doesn’t mean you should too. She’s had some good memory so it was easy to learn everything for her. Unlike you who had to actually go study for it.

Shoko said she would help you cheat through the homework, quizzes, project but you where on your own for the final exam. If you wanted to graduate at the same time as her then you would have to ace this anatomy exam tomorrow.

You felt too scared to cheat. What if you were caught? You would be academically expelled!

You groan loudly before looking up at your friends who had worried expressions.

"How bad do you guys think I’m going to do?" You ask.

"Fail"

"You’ll be fine"

They both said at the same time. Shoko elbows Gojo and then proceeds to grab your hands.

"Just study hard. I would love to help but I have a mission to go on but…" she turns to look at Gojo who was biting his biscuit. "But Gojo here is a teacher now."

Ah right, that moron did take up a teaching job right after graduating. Now that you think about it Shoko might be right. He’s a teacher! His job is to teach material to students. He could help you learn everything you need to. Not only that but he was good at everything he did, he would be able to learn everything in no time.

"Gojo you have to teach me!" You say with a pleading look.

"Haha, right as if you would want to learn anything from me. Don’t you two always make fun of me? Saying I’ll be a horrible teacher and whatnot."

Both of you glare at him.

"Ah, your serious I see.,." He says confused yet surprised.

—-

He was taking his sweet time looking over your text book. Giggling over a few certain pages before slamming the book shut.

You lift your head up from the couches arm.

"Alright I got everything down. Do you want to start with the bones or muscles?"

Gojo decided that the best place to study was in the comfort of his own home. You had protested by saying a library or coffee shop would be better because it would motivate you more.

He then proceeded to call you delusional and dragged you to his place.

It’s not like you haven’t been here before. You all used to hang out here almost everyday during high school. Now he was too busy working while you and Shoko were busy at school trying to get a masters degree.

"Bones"

You figured out really soon that his teaching techniques were quite odd.

Wack

"Ow! What was that for?!" You say as you rub your thigh.

Did he really just hit you with his arm?

"Where did I hit you?" He asks.

"My thigh you idio-"

"Wrong, tell me the name of the bone."

Ah, of course. You sigh as you tell him that he hit your femur with his ulna.

Wack, wack

That’s how studying went for a while. Eventually he would speed up the process by going faster and by hitting multiple spots at once. At the end you felt so sore.

You laid sprawled out on the floor as an ice bag rested on your rib cage.

At this point five long hours had gone by. Thankfully you had learned all the skeletal bones in the body but it was taking longer than you initially expected it to. If you guys keep on like this then it would take you forever to learn the muscles.

"You look so defeated already." Gojo said amused as you laid still.

"This is just harder than I thought it was going to be. Don’t you have a different way of learning anatomy without hurting me?" You ask.

You saw his mouth turn into a wide grin before he squatted down.

"I do have a different way but I feel like you’d dislike it." He smiles.

"I Dont care, I just need to learn the muscles in two hours!" You say looking at the clock.

"Let’s put consequences, people are prone to make less mistakes and to try harder if there’s a punishment."

You roll your eyes.

The exam was early in the morning and you needed all the rest you could get. He was just wasting time at this point. You sigh and just go along with his nonsense.

He grabs your hand and pulls you up so you could sit. He then sat across from you and took his mask off from his face.

He must finally be taking this seriously. Grabbing your hand once again he pulls your index finger and puts it on his cheek.

This was the exact same method, just with no pain involved.

"Masseter"

Then he dragged your finger to his temple.

"Temporalis"

You watch as he squints his eyes at you and looks at you suspiciously.

"I thought you needed help. Seems like you have it down."

"I obviously know a few things. For example the obvious ones like biceps. I know everything above the neck too."

He sits there in his thoughts for a moment before grabbing your hand again.

He slowly unfolded your hand and brought it to his chest. It surprised you for a second but you quickly remembered why he was doing this.

"Breast."

The both of you look at each other for a solid second. Holding eye contact before he suddenly burst out laughing. He had to catch his breath before correcting you.

"Pectoralis major"

Right… you would have totally gotten that right if it wearing for him doing such a thing.

You repeat the answer under your breath as he moves your hand once again.

This time it’s was his abs.

You swallow hands as he runs your hands over them. He wore a tight black shirt making it feel like it was his real skin. You could tell he was watching you carefully. Trying to read the facial expressions you were making. He was enjoying this…

You could concentrate at all. You had the answer on the tip of your tongue but it would spill out.

He kept running your hand up and down

"You’re taking too long y/n, the answer is recuts abdominus. We can come back to it later. Shall I give you a hard one?" He asks.

Maybe this was enough for today. Clearly he was toying with you and you had no time for such thing. Once you get home you’re going to study till midnight.

He moved your hand before you could tell him the study session was over.

It took you a moment to realize what you where not touching and it was indeed hard.

You jolt as he squeezed your hand around his length.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it.

Just answer the stupid question and be over with his games.

"Your small penis"

He glare’s at you as he runs your hand up and down his shaft.

"You know well this isn’t small."

You turn to look away from him so he wouldn’t see your cheeks turning pink. You could feel how it twitched under your touch, how it was pulsing begging to be let out. Begging for any sort of attention. Something you weren’t willing to give so easily.

"Anyways you’re wrong. A penis isn’t a muscle."

Huh?

"It’s not?! But you can move it right?"

Gojo for some reason took this as in invitation to unbutton his pants and to spring it out. You didn’t know whether to look away or take this as a learning observation.

Learning! You’re doing this to learn about the human anatomy! You hum in your head.

Averting your eyes down you see it. That wide long monstrous thing. How could that possibly fit inside of anyone?! Who would even want to sleep with him?

He moved it somehow. You watched it move up and down slowly.

"That’s two answers wrong in a row y/n" he coos.

Right. The punishment.

"So what are you going to make me do? Run laps? push-ups? Your chores?"

"No it’s something even better. Not only will this benefit me but it’s also going to make you learn a bit faster hopefully." He says.

Grabbing your leg he drags you towards him. You yelp at the sudden surprise. You knew he was a hundred times stronger than you so you didn’t bother to fight back. You watched him carefully as he climbed over you. His hair dangling over you.

He leans in slowly into your ear and whispered six words.

"I’m going to put it in."

Your breath hitches as you pushed him back.

This man was trying to kill you! There’s no way, absolutely no way that was going to fit in you at all! Of course you’ve had your fare share of men in you but nothing this big.

You shake your head repeatedly at him.

"You scared? Don’t worry I’ll be nice and careful. I’ll even let you stop me from moving if you answer my questions right." Gojo moves your hair to the back of your ear.

He ran his thumb over your temple in circles trying to sooth you.

All you had to do was get the answer correct right? You’ll just get them all right so he won’t even be able to enter you.

You feel as his hands run over your waist. His cold hands touching your sensitive skin before he gripped your bottoms and yanked them down. Your hands quickly go down to hide everything but he was quick to grab both of your wrist with one hand.

"You’re tempting me to just ram into you if you keep squirming like that."

You stay still causing him to laugh.

"Since you got two wrong I get to put two inches in." He says as he lines himself up with your hole.

You kick him and yell at him to stretch you out first but he refuses by saying that it wouldn’t be a punishment if he were to do that. With that out the way he began sliding into you. The second his tip went in you let out a cry of pain.

You try to run away by scooting back but he held you down and kept going in.

His eyes would squeeze shut at he bit his bottom lip. You could feel as he gripped your wrist and the leg he was holding up.

You let out a louder cry as he kept going. Begging him to stop and to let you adjust. There’s no way women actually enjoyed sleeping with him. He was carrying and actual weapon. He could literally kill someone with that.

Once he did stop you let out a loud groan.

"Such a good girl, you’re doing so good. Who would have know you were so tight." He kisses the inside of your leg.

You whimper in protest.

"What’s this?"

He points at the side of his rib cage.

"Y-your external oblique." Your voice trembles.

"Atta girl."

He then points at the middle part of his thigh.

You began to panic. Name, what’s the name?!why couldn’t they have simple names?! Why are there so many different muscles?

You open your mouth hoping the right answer would hopefully come out. The femur was located there so it had to have the word in the name right? Or at least rhyme with it. Femur-loris? Femoris? That sounded right but what if there’s a second part. Or maybe it was just one word.

You looked at him hoping for a hint but he just stared at you. Finding it amusing the way you were trying to think so hard while he was inside of you.

"You’re taking too long." He says as he shoves himself deeper inside of you.

Ngh!

You whimper as gets I n deeper.

"Femoris!" You yell out.

He makes you take in another inch.

"Fuck! You piece of shit! You’re a horrible teacher! I’m not going to learn anything like this!" You curse at him.

He slams the rest of his three inches inside of you causing you to cry. Your eyes almost roll back as you felt him stuff you. He slams your arms above your head and presses his pelvis deeper into yours. Rolling his hips over and over again making you go crazy. Your eyes began to water as you felt overwhelmed. Hot tears coating your eyelash.

Mascar stains your under eyes and your face begins to heat up. You’re begging him to slow down. Looking at him with a pleading look.

"Gojo, please! I don’t know the answer. I can’t even think straight right now!" You sob.

“Recuts Femoris." He says through his teeth.

He leads your hand to his chest and makes you tell him the answer to that one again.

You give him the correct name of it and felt as he began to slow down inside of you. He lets go of your wrists and brings his thumb to your clit. Rubbing it in circles to give you pleasure.

"A reward for being such a smart girl." He whispers.

He watches as you squirm and jolt at the sensation. He kept sliding in and out of you slowly but the pleasure was more overwhelming than the pain.

You start moaning out his name the faster he went. You’ve never felt this good before. With all the men you slept this had to the best one yet. He wasn’t even fucking you probably! He was toying with you!

What would it feel like if he was actually trying?

"Can’t you just fuck me properly?!" You say

He looks at you shocked before smiling. He put your legs over each shoulder and leaned in closer to you. You moan as he somehow reached a deeper area inside of you.

"I will when you get everything down and if you pass I’ll even eat you out." He groans as he grinds himself onto you.

You don’t know how or where all of this knowledge came from all of a sudden. Each place he pointed out you got the right answer, well almost. You would slip a few times making him pull away and slam into you. At some point your body finally adjusted to his length. This making the punishment more wanted. Sometimes you got the answers wrong on purpose.

By the end you had everything down and he was finally fucking you the way you wanted.

He had you on your knees as he plowed into you.

"I think this technique of learning is way better. Now shall we keep doing this for every exam?" He grins.

[liplinerloser]

The coffin of Andy and Leyley

A long term relationship with either of them

(Spoilers for Decay Route, It’s a long one! My requests are open <3)

Minors DNI

Andrew Graves

He meets you in high school, when he could still be bothered to talk to people. You sit next to him in an English class, he catches you with your head in your hands after it’s over, and despite not knowing you or really giving a fuck about you, he bites. Asking if you were okay was apparently the wrong answer because you start sobbing.

At this point he’s ready to walk away, but he can hear through your tears that you’re struggling with your grades, and it’s all gone to shit. That peaks his interest, Andrew ‘academic validation’ Graves knows exactly what that feels like. Begrudgingly he asks if he can help you, seeing you perk up at the thought. He ends up keeping you around for reasons he can’t understand.

He’s attracted to vulnerability, although he would never admit it, it makes him feel more secure in his own abundance of issues. If he’s smarter than you it also makes him feel like the superior one in the relationship that you can rely on.

Doing an English degree, he’s obviously poetically romantic when he wants to be, writing you your own sonnets, or ranting on and on about the historical context fuelling an authors writing career while playing mindlessly with your hair. He’ll take a lot of candid pictures of you to keep just for himself.

Andrew uses relationships outside of his obvious family unit to distract from said family unit, and convince the barely functioning moral compass ticking at the back of his mind that he is normal, he’s proving it by being with you, and loving you, and wanting you. No matter how many times your touch makes his skin crawl with inexplicable guilt

You notice bizarrely he never seems to have much time for you, you’d heard from a friend of a friend, Julia was it? That was the norm for him, though she seemed reluctant to get into details. You’re sympathetic to your boyfriend, maybe he’s busy or has a difficult home life.

he introduces you to the only other person in his life, his little sister, “the bane of his existence”, the fire of his loins, lovingly nicknamed Leyley. You inquired about the parents but alas, they weren’t in the picture god rest their souls.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, she hates your fucking guts. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a man, a woman, or anything on the spectrum; the sight of you with her Andy makes her viciously nauseous, and she seeks to correct it at once.

Your time with Andrew will constantly be cut short, with Ashley feigning illness, fear of being home alone, desperate help for homework, or just missing her older brother. It doesn’t matter what she says, as soon as it’s said he could hardly throw a glance in your direction. Clearly if you make it long term you always enable this behaviour alongside him

Ashley will give you the girlfriend special. Blowing up your phone with god awful messages at a god awful time at night, sending you hundreds of letters, hell you’re sure you saw her in your window at night! Her pink eyes staring daggers into you. But alas Andrew is blind to his sisters actions, it can’t be her, are you saying she’s capable of such things?! How could you. And somehow by the end of the conversation, you’re apologising to him.

Any speaking ill of Leyley will not be tolerated, he raised her. Even if she can be a self proclaimed bitch at times, she’s his, and in his eyes you’re replaceable. During the relationship you’ll have to deal with both her abuse and his.

The rare times you do get him alone without Leyleys disturbance, you get to be in the presence of Andrew as opposed to Andy. His repressed fears and upfront attitude, a harsh 360 from the character he masquerades for the sake of his sister. He’s soft with you, gentle small gestures such as tucking stray hair behind your ears, or stroking his thumb across your knuckles while he holds your hand. You can’t shake the feeling though that he’s hiding something darker from you.

Once he realises you’re serious about the relationship and don’t have any issues with Leyley become a complete pushover just like Andy He tries to involve you more, to the point you basically live with the siblings in the apartment.

You notice some, unsavoury behaviour between the two, with Andrew perpetrating it, such as walking in on Andrew sleeping with his sister, coddling her like a teddy bear. Upon seeing you walk into the room his eyes flew open, sitting swiftly up before quickly explaining the “panic attack situation”.

It was bullshit. You weren’t stupid, he knew you weren’t stupid. But you loved him, and if you make it far enough in the relationship, he manages to work into your brain and guilt you into thinking it’s just a unique element of their sibling dynamic. Hell what would you know, even if you had siblings it’s just not the same

Where most people would’ve seen his manipulative side rear it’s ugly head, and tear loose of this creep, he manages to get to you. He gets you so fucking good, right where he wants you, with your stomach exposed and vulnerable that you feel like apologising for even getting Involved! You’re not so lucky as the one before you, nobody is going to pull you out, and you certainly can’t help yourself.

Andrew is passively abusive, to both you and Ashley; he’s passive aggressive, and gives you whiplash with his contradictory behaviour, sometimes using his bad moods to emotionally manipulate you into doing whatever he wants. Even the times you think he’s doing what you want, it’s usually because it serves him.

Andrew is smart, he knows it, but he’s not smart enough to admit he’s also capable of being a terrible person while also being a victim. The times you try to address his negative behavior he withdraws from you completely, before coming back due to his physical needs.

As much as he doesn’t feel the true love for you he knows should be burning in his chest, he needs you. He needs you for a sense of normalcy, for your comforting grasp and honeyed words, because without that he has nothing else to stop him from snapping. So you’re very important to the Grave duos coexistence.

Once it gets to a certain point in the longevity of the relationship, Andrew will feel like he needs something permanent to tie you down, especially if he becomes increasingly suspicious of you leaving. He’s not above baby trapping you to keep you exactly where he needs you. Besides, he raised Leyley, what’s one more.

Following from that he probably has a breeding kink, he likes the idea of something like a baby keeping you tethered to him permanently. Just like how his parents tried to shake him and failed, you’d never be free from him.

Andrew uses sex as a stress relief, in a similar bracket to the cigarettes. He’s fucked enough to know what he likes, and that’s all that matters.

He’s not particularly intimate, In the traditional sense, he’s hypersexual so he fucks a lot, but don’t expect him to lovingly gaze down at you while he pounds you into the pillow.

He knows your body inside out, knows what makes you tick, where you’re sensitive and what gets you moaning like a bitch. He knows how to work his tongue and have you crying to the ceiling forgetting any other problems you had.

You noticed he comes to you for sex a lot particularly after he argues with Ashley, you always just assumed he was Pent up and it was his way of dealing with stress.

When it all comes to an end I think there’s only two ways you’d be around to stay with Andrew, if he hasn’t already indulged in his sister and descended to the final layer of hell.

Either you know about Ashley with all that entails, and you choose to stay despite it all, then you allow Andrew to live his fantasy’s inside the house, and play a normal life when he leaves those four walls with you. You become his front, and to an extent, he can love you for that.

Or he has snapped, killed Ashley, and before he can kill himself, you walk in. You and your gummy spine help him dispose of her body, and then you become her replacement. You’ll start to notice gradually Andrew dresses you more often, in outfits following the formula of shorts, boots, some sort of sleeveless top, and a choker. He does your hair for you, a low messy ponytail. Eventually whatever your name was doesn’t matter anymore, you’re not you, you’re Ashley! His beloved Ashley, his dear sweet Ashley, His Ashley.

Cant stay like that forever though, his soul craves her, and you’re not her.

Ashley Graves

Unlike Andrew, Ashley makes no effort to get closer to you, because she knows there’s no point.

There was a time in her life that she had wanted to be social, wanted friends outside of Andrew and that bitch Julia ; but Everytime she tried to talk to new people it felt like an overbearing shadow loomed over her. The girls she did talk to were uncomfortable with her brother, and the guys didn’t even talk to her, they already knew the crack.

A lot of the reason her attachment to Andy was allowed to fester is because of this rotting social life. But you can change that.

You meet her through Andrew, specifically being part of his friend group during school, though closer to the other guys, you thought he was… nice? He’d decided to invite all of you over to continue their card game match. The issue is he hadn’t mentioned you being the new addition, thinking it pointless

Ashley being Ashley was seething, smoke steaming from her nose, blood shot eyes seething. Why hadn’t Andrew mentioned you?! Was he hiding something. And who was this floozie trying to take him away from her!

Ashley couldn’t hold on long with you in the apartment before having an outburst in front of the whole group, in turn making them uncomfortable; all the guys opted to go to someone else’s house to continue, but you couldn’t help worry for Ashley. Andrew assured you it was one of her Temper tantrums and walked off in a huff.

Following her into her room, you find her crumpled on the floor infront of her made bed, head stuffed down into the bedsheets, as sobs wracked her frame, your heart ached for the poor girl. You wondered what could have hurt her so much

“G-go away!! You’re just like the others hussies tryna steal him away from me! W-well you wont be able to, I won’t let you!” She shot up, despite the height difference clearly trying to intimidate you.

Oh! That was all it was! She was just a jealous younger sister scared of her brother having too many friends and not spending time with her anymore. A smile graced your face as you pulled her into a hug, she fought back like a wild raccoon but eventually warmed up to it. “I’d never steal your brother from you, Ashley. He loves you so much, I’m sure of it!”, unaware of the full extent of their relationship you felt confident in your statement.

It was enough to get Ashley’s tears to dry, and a small smirk on her face, you’d heard Andrew complain about her in the brotherly way, but she seemed like a little sweetheart!

Over the years you grew away from Andrew, went to different universities, did different courses, he split from the friend group where you stayed in touch. But you did end up getting closer to Ashley.

She felt relieved to have someone outside of Andrew that wasn’t also competing for his interest like Julia, and you didn’t judge her for anything!

She confided all the bullshit her parents did, or do, even the arguments she had with Andrew, expecting you to be fully on her side like she had gotten used to with Andy. But you weren’t, you were honest with her, told her things she needed to hear to be better, and yeah she fucking hated it, wouldn’t talk for a while.

But eventually the phone would ring, in a small voice she would mention how she apologised, or made up and moved on.

She felt different than she did with you than when she hung out with Andy, there wasn’t a pit that sat heavy in her stomach, a guilty gnawing feeling. She enjoyed sleep overs at your house when her parents were particularly overbearing, the relief of getting away from it, even Andrew bizarrely

Ashley always likes her affections for someone to be affirmed, oftentimes through physical touch and words of affirmation. She’s relieved she doesn’t have to force this out of you, you enjoy her company, her snarky remarks about people and her perspective. She takes comfort in cuddling with you on the couch watching some shitty tv and making a running commentary of it, something she stopped doing because it pissed Andrew off.

Ashley tells you the secret that’s “weighed on her soul” since she was a kid. About what happened to what’s-her-face. You’re dumbfounded that she was capable of something like that, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made you think otherwise, even if the sobs conveniently stopped when you held her. You felt awful thinking she lived with such a heavy action from when she was a child, with nobody to comfort her, but disgust overwhelmed your senses at the nature of the act. Locked in a box, in the dark, she probably cried for her mom in her last moments. But she isn’t here, Ashley is, and it’s Ashley’s pitiful expression you’re forced to gaze back at. Did she feel guilt of her constant rotting?

She’s surprised you don’t do anything about the Nina secret considering you knew Julia, her closest friend; she had assumed after worming it out of her you’d hold it over her head forever, forcing her to bend for you. But unlike others in the past you don’t, you don’t blackmail her or ignore it for bigger issues, you’re simply there for her, rather than for something from her.

Don’t get her wrong though, as soft as she can appear, shes just as capable of being manipulative as Andrew when it serves her. you were ruined by this secret too, bonded together with her by it forever.

Ashley’s attitude as a whole is a lot harder to shift than just with the power of friendship. It’s fucking draining. She will always find a way to start an argument, screaming that you don’t care about her and you don’t put effort in, then if you respond she blames her inadequacies, and how she’s a “terrible woman”. You try not to indulge these, rather hugging her, asking her to talk when she’s calmer, and leaving. It’s clearly insecurity and you want to help her rather than hinder her or feed into it like some people-

Unlike Andrew, a relationship with her doesn’t revolve around sex, At least on the terms of her wanting it. She would much rather get validation through other actions towards her, and if you use her you’re no different than other people. If you’re going to do it, be gentle with her, that’s all she wants.

However, despite not wanting anything from you physically, she can be quite mentally draining to be around, even she’s aware of this. She’s grateful you ‘put up with her’, she’ll never tell you that though! Hehe

She’s the type of person who enjoys having something personal to someone, like having inside jokes nobody gets, or matching bracelets. She’ll absolutely make those ugly mismatched bff bracelets and expect you to wear it like it’s woven with gold.

The only other person she’s ever had that kind of relationship with is Andrew, and having it with you made her feel so… normal?

Unfortunately in the end, Ashley is a product of her upbringing by Andrew, all her behaviours and irrational fears, her attachments, they were all planted far too early on for you to even fathom changing them. No matter how long you stay by her side, treat her like an individual rather than a concept, care for her with your full heart, she cannot help crawl back to Andrew. It’s in her blood.

Nobody gets her like he does, and you’ll never know her fully unless you know the ins and outs of him too; an impossible task. Andrew knows this too, the off times you see him in public he smirks, as if he’s won over you.

She’ll keep talking to you, but gradually the phone calls lessen, there’s no silly notes or clothes left around your place, it’s as if all traces of her have been erased. She is fully absorbed by Andrew, she’ll never be yours, she never was.

Maybe you can slow her decay, but you can’t stop the inevitable.

[ferigrievous]

attractive things they do ; haikyuu ver . ⋆˚࿔

bokuto ; doesnt know personal space or manners when it comes to you. will wave to you in the middle of a test if he sees you passing in the hallway, or will yell your name if he spots you in the cafeteria. doesn’t matter if you saw each other five minutes ago, he still greets you like you’ve been gone a year.

akaashi ; has crazy fast reflexes. despite not being as muscular as bokuto, he still never wavers whenever he catches something, as seen when he caught him after he fainted. you dont even notice you dropped something before he’s handing it back to you.

aone ; waits for you to finish talking. never cuts people off, even when they’re rambling or slow. he’ll just nod and look at you like everything you say matters. he also doesnt stutter, and takes his time to speak. you dont mind it when people stutter, but you convince yourself its because he wants to think out every word he says (to you).

futakuchi ; worst teaser to walk the earth. says “yeah? and what if i did?” and “are ya’ gonna do something about it.” more than he sees his own mother. never oversteps, and knows what specifically to not bring up, but he knows you’ll always do something about it.

koganegawa ; says everything out loud. narrates his entire life and lets people know how he’s thinking, or what he’s doing. you usually find this annoying when other people do it, but somehow hes just funny and oblivious enough for it to cancel out.

ukai ; always smells good. could smoke up a whole room and down a whole bottle of whisky in an afternoon and he’d still smell good. you can smell him even after he’s left a room, but sometimes you think its just a placebo effect. you notice whenever its missing.

takeda ; watches the credit scenes of a movie. will clap, and will talk to other people about it like its just another thing. when people ask why, he says its because ‘someone worked hard on this!’ applies to other things too, but something as small as this gets you everytime.

kiyoko ; remembers everything you say. not in a creepy way, just in a soft, careful way. the kind of person who brings up something you forgot you even told her. you’ll offhandedly mention your favorite flower and a week later she’ll give you one.

yachi ; double checks everything. did you bring your coat? do you have your wallet and keys? did you do the homework?  she’s on it. says “just in case!” with this big worried smile like she can’t help it.

alisa ; takes the best pictures. most of her pictures are candid, ones you think are ugly but she’ll cherish like its made of pure gold. she rarely asks you to pose for a picture, but she always makes sure you look good. you almost never notice when she has her camera out until she tags you in a post later that night.

akane ; always has two extra hair ties. you never notice, because she always has her hair up, until alisa asks for it and you ask her why she has so many. she doesnt answer you, but you find out its because no one ever had hairties strong enough to hold her hair properly, so she makes sure no one else has that problem. not that youlll ever let her know you know this, of course.

konoha ; mimics people without realizing. picks up their slang, their hand gestures, the way they write their &s and ?s. whenever someone brings it up, he pretends not to notice because he’s too embarrassed. 

terushima ; stupidly smart. you hate it, how he’s not a high honors student, but a highest honors student, and has been for years. you never see him study, never see him struggle, and never even hear him talk about school outside of class, but he’s never had anything lower than a 90 on anything.

daisho ; always knows what you mean. when you’re struggling with words, he knows exactly what youre going to say before you even think of it. you usually hate it when other people do it because theyre almost always wrong, but he somehow knows what you mean every single time.

sakusa ; walks on the outside of the sidewalk. doesnt care about the sidewalk rule, doesnt care if the person/people hes walking with are 10x stronger and bigger than him. doesnt mention it, does it naturally, and if you purposely switch it, he’ll switch it back without you even noticing.

komori ; makes a big deal about small wins. big believer in ‘a little is better than nothing’. even if its something as simple like doing your bed or doing the dishes, he’ll grin and congratulate you anyway.