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knowiloveyoubabe · 1 year

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Not Like This

Word Count: 2.5K words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption; language (?)

A/N: idk if anyone’s done this already but i rewatched new girl for the billionth time and i just had to (also hi sorry i haven’t posted in so long, life is rough)

“Come on, Y/N! Why not?” Harry whined, a hiccup escaping his pouty lips. Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to stifle a smile, crossing her arms over her chest. She could barely hear him over the loud music, the bass nearly causing their bones to jump out of their skin.

“Because it’s a childish game, we’re both drunk, and this will definitely not end well.” She tries to speak over the music, giggling at her glossy-eyed best friend pleading on his knees in front of her, holding her hands between his.

“Pleaaaase, pretty pretty please?” He pokes his bottom lip out, giving her a look he knew she couldn’t say no to, his hands finding their way to and resting on her arms.

“Harry, I don’t know…” She fidgets, unsure. He clumsily makes his way up to his feet, bumping into a few drunk classmates and laying his hands on her shoulders.

“Just one round! It’s just spin the bottle, what’s the worst that could happen?” He smiles confidently.

She eyed him for a moment, his cheeks were flushed from the excessive alcohol, causing the color of his bright eyes to significantly pop aside the deep pink. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the feelings for Harry she had been suppressing for the 3 years they've been friends, but the shape of his lips had become nearly irresistible. Her eyes followed their movement as his teeth bit down on his bottom lip while he waited on her answer.

“Love?” He asks, his fingers brush down her arm ever so softly, snapping her out of her trance.

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/N inhales a sharp breath, physically shaking her head as though she were pushing the thoughts out of her mind. Harry’s face shifted to a look of worry for his closest friend.

“You know what, maybe we are too drunk, I’ll just tell them we’ll sit this one out.” He moved to step away from her but she caught his hand in hers before he could go.

“No! I’m okay, I promise! Let's play!” She spoke quickly. Harry’s worried frown deepened as he grabbed her other hand.

“You seemed so unsure, what changed?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. Alarm bells blared in her head as she felt his thumb brushing against her knuckles, her focus falls to his lips once more.

How can she possibly explain to her best friend that she changed her mind because she desperately needs someone else's lips on hers to help erase the very thought of his touch, his eyes, his lips on her.

“Nothing, it’ll be fun!” She smiled, lightly nudging his shoulder with hers, attempting to maintain her composure. His brows furrowed as he chewed on his bottom lip, skeptical of her sudden change in attitude.

“Are you sure?” He asked, genuinely concerned. She laughs at his drunken attempt at a serious conversation.

“Stop being silly, let’s play!” Y/N cheers, chugging the last of her drink and pulling him towards the living room of the frat house. Harry wobbled behind her, holding onto her for dear life as they bumped past the other partygoers.

They spot their group of friends sitting in a circle on the floor, the dim light reflected off of the beer bottles in their hands. With the music blaring through the speakers, people dancing, laughing, making out around them, the group of friends looked as though they were in their own little pocket of the universe, unfazed by the scene surrounding them.

Y/N continued pulling Harry towards them when he stopped in his tracks, gently pulling her towards him.

“Y/N,” His glossy eyes were filled with worry, “Are you absolutely sure, love?” He says softly, the music almost drowning his melodic voice out. Y/N heard him loud and clear though, her eyes lingered on his lips.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” She nodded her head, inhaling sharply. She smiled nervously, hoping he wouldn’t see through her facade. “Like you said, what's the worst that could happen?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance..

A small smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips as his eyes scanned her face.

“Okay, but I’ve got my eye on you.” His dimple deepened as he looped her arm into his, leading her to the group.

“Finally!” Their friends greeted them as they sat in vacant spots in the circle, facing one another.

“Alright, everyone knows the rules, you spin the bottle and kiss whoever it lands on,” One of their friends, Chris, states before chugging the rest of his beer and laying the bottle on its side in the center of the circle. “This is the easiest game ever, just keep it tight you drunkards.” He points his finger around the group, a lazy smirk stretching across his lips, his dark skin glistened under the colored lights. The group cheers loudly, ready to get the game started.

Harry nods at Y/N, directing her attention to him.

“Can you believe this man is going to be a doctor?” He giggles, gesturing at Chris. Y/N giggles too, their friend shooting them a playful glare.

“Alright, let’s get on with it,” Chris announces, “I’ll go first.” He claps his hands together, looking around the group before settling himself down on his knees and reaching to spin the bottle. The bottle slows down, landing on Omar, a lean, tanned guy with curly brown hair. A smile stretches on his face as cheers and catcalls are heard amongst the group. Chris laughs, leaning in to place a peck on Omar’s lips. Harry and Y/N cheer with the rest of the group, awaiting the next person's turn.

Harry’s turn slowly approached, the anxiety making Y/N’s heart nearly jump out of her chest at the thought of his lips on someone else's. It’s not like she had never seen him kiss someone else, he has had situationships here and there and she’d caught glances of his lips locked with theirs. But this time was different, she could no longer push the feelings away, the alcohol had broken down that dam and it all rushed over her like running water.

Kisses were shared and the bottle kept spinning, until it was finally Harry’s turn. Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat as he reached for the bottle, his eyes locking with hers for what felt like forever. She gave him a tight smile and a quick thumbs up, her body almost on autopilot as she watched him. He inhales deeply, squinting his eyes and spinning the bottle. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, hoping she was being subtle about the panic coursing through her veins.

“Ooooooh shit!” She heard Chris and the rest of the circle laughing, her lids opening before she could think. Her eyes met Harry’s, his expression stunned. His eyes left hers, trailing down to where the bottle was, pointing directly at her. Her breath caught in her throat as it dawned on her what this all meant, the thought nearly sobering her up.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice trailed softly as he bit at the skin on the inside of his cheek. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, waiting on her next move. A faux smile spread across her face as she chuckled lightly, attempting to hide the panic creeping down her spine.

“What are you waiting for, come here!” She puts on a confident front, leaning in slightly. Harry remained silent, his mouth agape.

“C’mon Harry, we all did it! Kiss her!” Omar giggled, poking at Harry’s knee playfully. A beat passed and Harry hadn’t made any move to kiss her. Y/N’s blood was buzzing in her veins, her stomach restless as she waited on him to do something, anything.

“Lets goooo, kiss her!” Chris cheers, starting a chant amongst those in the circle. Harry broke out of his trance, shaking his head slightly. The cheers grew louder and blood rushed to his cheeks, deepening the flush from the alcohol.

“What, you don’t wanna kiss me?” Y/N half jokes, nearly wincing at the thought.

“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!” The cheers grew louder as a few of their classmates outside of their circle joined in, drunkenly unaware of what was happening.

“No, not like this!” He bursts, frustrated. The regret almost instantly set in on his features as the words slipped out. The group fell silent, all eyes on him. A few classmates continued cheering, still unaware.

“What?” Y/N whispers, her eyes wide. Her breath had caught in her throat as she held eye contact with her best friend, it was as though the whole world had frozen around them. His wide eyes flooded with an emotion that her intoxicated brain could not comprehend.

“Fuck.” Harry mutters under his breath, wobbling up from his spot in the circle and disappearing into the crowd.

“Harry!” Y/N called after him, attempting to follow him but clumsily falling onto the couch behind Chris. He offers her a hand, smiling knowingly.

“Go get him.” He winks as Y/N takes his hand, nodding.

She takes off in the direction he went in, finding herself at a door at the far end of the frat house. The bathroom. Y/N smiled to herself. The anxiety had nearly evaporated from her body, the only thing on her mind was making sure her favorite person was okay. She knocked, knowing fully well that she wouldn’t hear the response from within over the pounding bass. She slowly opened the door, hoping she wasn’t barging in on some stranger sitting on the toilet. Instead, she was met with the soft green eyes she’d grown so fond of. Harry was laying in the tub, arms outstretched on the rim, his hair slightly disheveled.

“Hey," Y/N spoke softly, entering the small bathroom, gently shutting the door behind her. Harry averted his gaze from hers, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Mind if I join you in there?”

Harry nodded slightly, still avoiding her eyes. Y/N steps into the tub carefully, sitting opposite of him, stretching her legs and settling her feet on either side of his hips.

Neither of them made a move, the silence between them uninterrupted by the loud music on the other side of the door. Harry picked at his nail polish, avoiding her eyes as she scanned his face for what he could possibly be feeling.

“What did you m-” “How did you kno-”

They both break the thick silence simultaneously.

“You go first.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, another sign of the anxiety he felt welling up inside of him.

“No, no, you go.” Y/N laid a gentle hand on his shin. Harry’s eyes settled on her fingers unconsciously tracing small circles over the thin material of his pants on his leg.

“How did you know I’d be here?” He spoke slowly, his eyes following the movement of her fingers. Y/N let out a slight chuckle, the change in tone forcing Harry’s eyes up to look at her face. The brightest of smiles lit up her features.

“Remember the night we first met? Orientation party, freshman year?” She paused. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as he racked his alcohol ridden brain. Y/N lets out a laugh as realization hits him, his eyebrows shooting up and his mouth slightly agape.

“I was hiding out in the bathroom because I didn’t know anyone yet.” He chuckles, watching Y/N fondly.

“And I needed to pee but there was some weirdo in the tub!” She leans forward, lightly pushing his shoulder. Harry bursts into a fit of giggles, comforted by the presence of his best friend.

“Why the tub?”

“I don’t know, it’s weirdly comforting.” Harry giggles, shrugging his shoulders.

“And?” Y/N pokes at his shin.

“You know, I think it’s the walls of the tub, I feel like a little baby in a crib.” Harry slurs slightly, leaning his head back on the wall behind him.

“Hmm, I wonder what that’s about?” Y/N teases, causing Harry to groan.

“You took ONE psychology class and forgot how to act.” Harry scrunches his nose at his friend. A beat of silence settled between them before Y/N snickered, making them both burst out in laughter.

As they settled down, Harry placed his hands on Y/N’s thighs, snapping her out of her haze for a moment.

“Harry?”

“Hm?” Harry hummed softly, distracted by a piece of loose thread on Y/N’s pants.

“What did you mean, ‘not like this’?” She spoke cautiously, eyeing his face. Harry inhaled sharply, his body tensing slightly.

“I just,” Harry nibbles at his lip, “I don’t know, I just…” He sighs, covering his face with his hands.

“Hey,” Y/N frowns, removing her feet from beside him, repositioning herself. She perched herself on her knees between his legs, her hands gently settling on his thighs. “You don’t have to-”

She was cut off by his mouth on hers, his hands on either side of her face. Y/N was stunned but allowed herself to melt into it. Harry let out a soft whimper as she kissed him back, his hands tracing down her body to her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, tugging ever so lightly as their lips molded onto one another with fervor. His tongue slipped into her mouth, colliding with hers. His hands trail down to her hips, pulling her even closer as she practically straddles him. Harry pulled away first, both of them struggling to regulate their breathing.

“Harry…” She whispers, her forehead pressed against his, absolutely stunned.

“That’s what I meant.” He whispers. Y/N exhales shakily, pulling him in for another kiss. Their hands roamed as they pulled each other closer and closer.

“Chris! I found them!” The bathroom door swung open, startling the couple in the tub. Omar leaned against the doorframe, giggling up a storm at their surprise. Chris walked up behind Omar, his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, guys! The game was spin the bottle, not 7 minutes in heaven!” He slurred, joining Omar’s giggle fest. Y/N buried her face in Harry’s neck, mortified at the position their friends found them in.

“Alright, alright, we’ll be out in a minute!” Harry shoo’s their friends (who were making kissing noises at the couple). Chris closes the door, but not before yelling that he called it. Harry rubbed Y/N’s back, apologizing gently. She pulls her face out of the crook of his neck looking at him in disbelief.

“Y/N, this is all I’ve wanted for so long.” He whispers and her feature soften instantly.

“Really?” Her voice strained slightly. He places a hand on her jaw running his thumb over her cheekbone, nodding his head. Y/N’s heart beat against her ribcage so hard that she was sure he could hear it.

“Me too.” A wide smile graced her face. Harry’s heart soared as he leaned in to kiss his best friend again.

“We’re kissing in a tub, absolutely shitfaced.” Y/N giggles against his lips.

“Worse things have happened in tubs, I’m sure of it,” Harry giggles back between soft kisses. “But this is definitely one of the best.” He deepens their kiss, so glad he begged her to play that silly game.

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ughgoaway · 5 months

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bff anon is a fluff stan first but an angst fan second tbh..... so long as canonically they are meant to be id love to read some angst of the 'I F they actually broke up' etc ohmygod it would wreck me but i can't wait to see what u come up with ace!!

thinking of matty completely regretting it after and just feeling so awful for what he said to you and wallowing in his misery...and annie suddenly comes up to him and she doesn't really know what's happened and just innocently asks when you'd join them for dinner (a poor attempt at cheering her dad up bc he almost always lights up thinking of u) and the way it just shatters him completely,,,,, let me cook 😍

- bff anon :D

no way!!! omg, I was thinking when I came up with the concept, "Will bff Anon hate this..." So I am veryyyyy happy to hear that you are an angst enjoyer, hehehe! very unexpected from you bff...

they are definitely cannonically together and happy with annie and baby boy, but it is fun to consider the other reality... ahh I hope you enjoy whatever my brain spits out.

oh he would be WALLOWING. not shaving, watching his favourite movies on repeat and not leaving the house. all he does is replay what he said to you over and over again. he thinks about what he would do differently, what he would say differently.

how he would just do everything completely opposite to what he did.

NOT ANNIE ACCIDENTALLY STIRRING THE POT PLEASEEEE!!!!

she'd notice matty being a bit distant and think she was helping... ohhhh, that's so sad. especially when he initially lights up and then remembers it's his fault you're not here already.

he has to fight the tears as he lets her down gently, explaining that you are going to be busy for a little bit and won't be around. but after she goes to bed he just fucking shatters. calling one of the boys and breaking down to them.

bff your mind.... unmatched fr.

#bff anon lore... an angst lover??? that was so unexpected!!!!#you have such fluffy lovely ideas!!!#you and cookie anon coming out of the woodwork as angst girlies... love it #annie trying to help actually has me CRYINGGGG like please shes just trying to make him happy #bff anon <33333 #anon!#teacher au!

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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

Fundamental Differing

masterlist | playlist | pin board | chapter X

Chapter XI: Consider This The Slip

summary: the aftermath of a rough night is surprisingly calm. things might be a mess, but you’re handling it as well as you possibly could. for now, at least, things are going to be okay.

tags: angst!!!!! hurt/comfort, flirting, forced proximity, slow burn, mutual pining, fake dating, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!gn!reader, bff!robin and bff!steve

a/n: HIIIIII i’m really proud of how this turned out, very excited to get to the midwest leg of the tour soon! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

December 1985

He wakes up first, the sunlight peeking through your open blinds hitting the bed. You’re still asleep, regardless of the rays hitting your entire body, and Eddie can’t help but stare. Your back is to him, the covers thrown from your body in your sleep, leaving your entire backside exposed. He traces your silhouette first with his eyes, letting them roam freely over your neck that still has remnants of his teeth, your shoulders, down your back, to your hips, and over your ass where the comforter barely covers you. Without thinking, Eddie traces the muscles on your back with a lazy finger, committing every inch to his memory.

He lets his mind wander, mostly to how unbelievable this whole situation is. To have someone to wake up to, that trusts him enough to let him sleep in their bed, that loves him, is something he never could have counted on. In a way, it terrifies him, that it’s all too good to be true. One day, he’s sure you’ll wake up and realize what a mistake you’ve made. He shakes his head at himself, ridding the thought from his mind. You’ve given him no reason to worry, he’s doing this to himself.

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

Your new look is, well, interesting to say the least. He does a double take when you get on stage, a hand flying to cover his gaping mouth. He looks from the stage, to Steve, then back to the stage.

Steve shakes his head, mouthing I don’t fuckin’ know! And Eddie snorts. You’re definitely going through something, but that doesn’t mean the haircut itself isnt fucking hilarious.

After what feels like forever, you finish your last song and exit the stage. Eddie is quick to follow you, catching up with your angry stomping. “Nice ‘do.” He nudges you as he falls in step. “Where can I get me one of those. What’s it called? The ‘Stuck In The Blender’?”

“It’s actually called leave me the fuck alone, Eddie.” You spit back, trying to speed walk away, but he keeps your pace.

“Why’d you do that?” He makes a point to sound genuine, because despite himself, he still worries about you.

You shrug. “Felt like it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, what’s buggin’ you?

“Honestly?” You halt, making Eddie stop short and trip on his own feet. “You. You’re bugging me.”

It’s a jab to his ego, and he feels an ache in his chest. “Me?”

You nod, growing frantic. “You! You keep, y’know, showing up.” You wave your hands around as you speak, as if it’ll get your point across.

“I- I’m sorry, I think? I can’t really help that. We are stuck on tour together, we kinda have no choice but to show up.” His brain works quickly, trying to make sense of your words. “Is this about the song? Earlier? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, it came out wrong. I want to write the song with you, even if we don’t-“

You wave your hand to stop him, and he does. “No, no. It’s not just that. It’s me. I’m stressed out, I don’t like that my label wants us to date. I don’t like that we’re touring together. I don’t like that I-“ You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“What? You don’t like when you what? Whatever it is, I won’t judge, I won’t even say a word.”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes on the sticky club floor. “Nothing.”

“Y/n.” Eddie fights the urge to reach for you, to pull you in and wrap his arms around you. He forgets what it even feels like to hold you now, what your warmth feels like.

“Eddie, really. Nothing.” And that’s final. The two of you don’t say anything until you reach the dressing room, where Eddie bids you goodnight, and is meant with a grunt as you close the door in his face.

He doesn’t have long to collect his thoughts before Robin’s behind him. “What did you do?”

He pivots, groaning. “Nothing! I- I don’t know! They won’t tell me!”

She crosses her arm, waiting for him to finish yammering. “Uh huh. Now use your tiny little boy brain.” Eddie looks for clues on her face, but gets nothing from her irritated expression. He shrugs, exasperated and defeated. “I’ll give you a teeny, tiny hint. Think about it. Why did they never tell you they got signed? Why did they never ask you for help when it came to video shoots or recording, or anything like that? Why were they so fine not coming to shows with you while you were dating?”

It takes him a second, but he gets there “Oh.” You don’t want your success to be credited to him. You want to make your own name, your own art, without being associated with Eddie. You don’t want people believing you slept your way to the top.

“Yeah, oh. You’re still so blind to how they feel, Ed, it is so irritating to watch. And before you even think about it, don’t ask me for advice. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. Now, if you would get out of my way, I have a friend to comfort.” She nudges Eddie with her shoulder, entering the dressing room and slamming the door behind her.

—

Your POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would I do that? Why am I being so fucking embarrassing?

You’re aggressively splashing your warm face with cool water when Robin knocks on the bathroom door. “Occupied!” You flinch when you hear the sound of your strained voice, sounding how you feared it would: like you’d been crying.

“It’s me,” Robin’s voice is low, but you crack the door enough to peer out and see her standing there. “Can I come in?” You nod, and open the door just enough to let her squeeze inside. You turn the faucet back on to drown your voices out. You’ve finished crying, your face red and your eyes puffy. You sniffle, and Robin takes you in as you try to disappear. “Can you please, please tell me what’s actually going on? You can’t keep walking around like you’re fine and then pull a stunt like this. We worry.”

You cross your arms, taking in her words to heart as you try to breathe evenly. “This doesn’t leave the room.” She nods. “Not even to Steve.” You clarify, and she only keeps nodding. You want to believe her, so you do. “I’ve been worse, lately. Not sleeping, not feeling like myself. I wanted to do something drastic, so I chose to do this,” you gesture to your horrible haircut, “instead of something… bad.”

Robin makes a noise like she understands. She doesn’t, not really, but you don’t feel like giving her the gory details. “Okay, so how are we gonna fix it?”

You turn to face the mirror. One side is longer than the other, making you look like you’ve got a permanent kink in your neck. Your bangs are choppy, and the ends are cut bluntly, like you sawed them off. “I figure Harley’s seen the damage, or at least heard by now. Maybe she’ll forgive me and fix it. I don’t know if I wanna face her wrath, though.” You feel a burning in your throat, and you stifle an ugly sob as you take in your appearance.

“I may have an idea. You gotta trust me, though.” Robin’s eyes meet yours in the mirror. You’ve trusted her with your life, so you don’t see a reason you can’t trust her with your hair. “We have to wait for Eddie, though.”

Ah, fuck.

—

Eddie’s POV

He walks offstage, waving to the audience still screaming his name. He tosses his sweat soaked shirt over his shoulder, and follows the rest of the band to their dressing room. When he gets close enough, he notices you and Robin waiting outside, having a hushed discussion when he approaches.

“Eddie!” Robin greets, far too cheerfully for the way she’s been acting toward him lately. “We need your help.” Her tone suggests it’s not a question.

Eddie leans against the wall, fighting the urge to light a cigarette already. “With?” Robin motions to your hair, and he snorts. “You want me to… what, exactly?”

“Fix it. I want you to fix it.” You say meekly. “Please?” You add, looking up finally. Of course he’s gonna do it, even with that haircut he’d do anything you asked him to. “I have a feeling Harley’s gonna kill me if she gets to it first.”

Eddie chuckles, and he thinks he catches the beginning of your smile twitching on your face. “Okay, yeah. I’ll fix it. But I need something from you.”

“Depends what it is.” You cross your arms over your chest, defensive.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be negotiating, sweetheart.” He bites his lip as soon as he says it, the old nickname slipping out like a bad habit. “Sorry.”

You don’t respond, but you enter the room like he’s invited you, and Robin follows closely. Before Eddie can enter, though, she turns around. “Go easy. They’re not in a good place right now. They need gentle hands.”

Eddie nods. “I can be gentle.”

Robin only nods in response. “Alright, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m gonna take a nap before we get on the road. Have fun!”

“You aren’t staying?” You call out to Robin, and Eddie’s heart sinks. You still don’t want to be alone with him.

“You’ll be okay! Scream if you need me!” Robin exits the dressing room, waving on her way.

Eddie turns his radio down, lowering the blasting of R.E.M.’s Losing My Religion to a dull hum. He turns to you, standing in the middle of the dressing room while the guys gather their things to pack the bus. Eddie fills them in, apologizing for not helping them load.

“It’s fine, man. Y/n needs you more right now, I think.” Gareth says, and not with any malice. He glances at you, then back to Eddie. “How are you gonna fix that?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I have maybe one semi decent idea.” Gareth nods, and follows his band out the door.

“Okay,” Eddie turns back to you, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see what we got here. Go ahead and sit down.” Eddie motions to the vanity mirror, and you take a seat in his chair. The lights are bright on your face, and Eddie does everything he can not to stare. Your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks red and puffy. He sees the tear stains and red nose, the giveaways that you’ve been crying. He knows you don’t usually care this much about your appearance. Something else is doing this to you, and he’s determined to figure out what it is.

He grabs a towel from his suitcase and drapes it over your front, a makeshift smock, knotting it together in the back with a stray hair tie. He’s nervous, being so close to you like this, while you put your trust in his abilities. He grabs his scissors and a comb in shaky hands, and forces himself to relax.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” You say quietly, almost a whisper.

“I wanna help. If you’re okay with it.” He looks at you in the mirror, meeting your eyes a second before you look away.

“Okay. Sorry, it’s really bad.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing we can’t fix.” He’s not sure that’s true, but he’ll be damned if he upsets you further. He gets to work, snipping longer pieces and evening out the back. As he does, he becomes less nervous about how it will come out. It’ll be much shorter, sure, but at least it won’t look like you cut it with a weedwacker.

The silence starts to get to him. “Why’d you do it, really?” Eddie asks, not meeting your eyes.

“I wanted to feel in control.” Your answer surprises him.

“Are you feeling out of control?”

You scoff. “Yeah, very. Are you not?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve never felt in control. It’s never bothered me.” He likes the chaos, the unpredictability.

“I dunno. Maybe it’s tour fatigue. Sleeping on a bus, being up all the time. Can’t be too good for me.”

“How are you sleeping?” He asks, not thinking of how it must sound.

“Not well, not since tour started.”

Eddie nods. “Buses aren’t ideal, but you get used to it.” He makes a few more cuts, then stands back to admire his work. “Voila!”

You inspect your new hair in the mirror. It’s short, resting just below your jaw in choppy layers. Your bangs are still short, but they fall evenly across your forehead. You look fantastic, but Eddie already knows you can pull any hairstyle off.

“Wow. I did not know you could do that.” You turn your head to inspect the side view. “Thank you. So, so much.”

Eddie unties the towel from around your neck. “Anytime.”

“What did you want for it?” You ask, standing up to face him.

“What? Oh,” He’d forgotten he said he needed anything from you. “I uh, I want help with my makeup.”

—

Your POV

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Eddie nods, blushing. “I can’t put eyeliner on to save my life. All the rockstars do it, and I think it looks sick. But I don’t even know where to start.”

You nod, choosing not to take the opportunity to poke fun at him. He did just save your hair, after all. “Okay. Do you have any?”

“Yeah,” He grabs the toiletry back off the vanity and pulls out a black pencil with no cap. You pluck it from his fingers and motion for him to sit in the chair. He does, but his head isn’t close enough to you, so you shake your head.

“Here, sit on the counter,” you pat the top of the vanity, and he repositions himself. Sitting here, he’s about exactly your height, eyes level with yours. You take a step closer, closing the gap between you and him almost completely. You repeat a prayer in your head, not to lose your cool being so close to his face, his eyes, his lips.

You clear your throat to break the silence. “So, I have a trick,” you dig around in your pockets until you locate your lighter. “I melt the tip to make it easier to apply. Like this,” You flick the lighter, and hold the tip of the pencil to the flame for barely a few seconds. “But don’t, like, apply it right away. Don’t wanna blind yourself.” You blow on the pencil to cool it down just enough to use. “Look up, but with your eyes not your head.” Eddie tilts his head up, and immediately realizes his mistake. You giggle as he readjusts. “Good. Stay still.” Here comes the hard part. The part where you have to touch his face. You place your thumb under his eye, pulling the bottom lid open just slightly to gain access to his waterline. You take the pencil and drag it across, trying to go quickly so this torture can be over for both of you.

“How do you do this every night? This shit sucks.” Eddie talks as you focus, and you can feel his face moving under your hand.

“Beauty is pain.” You reply, switching to his other eye.

“This isn’t beauty, it’s metal.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Of course. Mean and scary.” You wipe a bit of excess eyeliner from under his eye. “Tada!”

Eddie turns around in his seat to look into the mirror. “Oh, I look sexy!” He exclaims, and you have to bite so hard on your tongue to keep from responding. The feeling in your stomach is back, like a flock of birds banging around in your intestines. Eddie turns back to look at you. “Thank you.”

You nod, still too close to his face. “Anytime.” The silence after is deafening. Your ears are ringing and you’re not sure whether it’s from the show or from the quiet between you two.

Eddie clears his throat after what feels like forever. “I gotta, uh,” He motions vaguely to the door.

You realize you’ve planted yourself between his legs, and clumsily back away from him. “Sorry! Sorry. Yeah, I should probably get going too. I’ll uh, see you later? When we leave together to please the public?”

Eddie nods, and you turn on your heel and speed walk the fuck out of there.

—

Eddie’s POV

He’s fucked. He’s fucked so bad, and he can’t do anything about it. He can still smell your perfume, mixed with the slightest amount of sweat after performing, and a little like beer that probably spilled onstage. He feels your hand caressing his face gently, and your warm breath against his skin as you concentrate. If he closes his eyes, you’re back again, leaning into him, lips closing in on his.

“You ready?” Gareth comes back in, but stops short when Eddie opens his eyes. “Shit, man, you look good! You do that?” He wiggles a finger, gesturing to Eddie’s eyes.

“Nah, uh, Y/n helped me out.”

“Oh?” His tone is teasing. “Glad you guys are still getting along. Speaking of, I just saw them. Nice job on the hair.”

Eddie grins. “Thanks, man.”

“Let’s get goin’, yeah? Washington tomorrow’s gonna be insane. You need the rest.”

Eddie nods. “I’ll catch up, I got a few things to grab first.” Gareth nods, and leaves the dressing room.

—

You’re waiting by the stage door when Eddie approaches. “You still got it on, huh?” You smile up at him, and his heart rate quickens.

“I gotta show it off while I can, there’s no way I’ll be able to do it this well.” He holds out his hand, already feeling it sweat. “Shall we?”

You grab his hand after half a beat of hesitation, entwining your fingers with his. It’s the most natural feeling in the world, your skin against his. He squeezes it gently, and feels you squeeze back, a silent exchange of reassurance.

Steve flings the door open, and Eddie’s immediately blinded by the camera flashes. Crowds of fans and paparazzi alike start shouting, crude comments and questions alike.

“Do you need a third?!” “How long have you been dating?!” “Is this a rekindled love?!” “Over here, over here!”

Eddie does his gentlemanly duty, shielding you as best as he can with his body, opening his jacket to block the view of the cameras. You’re hurried into the bus by Steve, who slams the door behind him and heaves a deep breath like he’s just run a marathon.

“Thanks, big guy.” Eddie pats Steve on the back.

“So, uh,” You let go of Eddie’s hand, and he bites back his disappointment. “How do I get back on my own bus?”

Steve checks his watch. “We’ll probably stop to get food in a bit. You can reunite on your bus in a few hours.”

Eddie whips his head to look at Steve. “A few hours?”

Steve shrugs. “It would look weird if Y/n were to just walk back out now. There’s no point in stopping until we get food, and everyone’s too hungry to wait for you guys to sort your shit. Get comfy, Y/n. Welcome to the Coffin.” Steve pushes past you both grumpily, and Eddie watches you follow.

—

Your POV

“Hey.” You tap Steve’s shoulder once you’ve caught up to him by the bunks. “What’s your deal?”

Steve grunts. “Tired. And irritated.”

“Why?”

“I'm sick of being out of the loop. I have no idea what’s going on with you two. First your hair’s all fucked up, now Eddie’s wearing makeup and you look like a rockstar again. What the hell did I miss?”

You shrug, fighting the urge to tell him everything. “Bad night, gave myself a makeunder. Eddie helped me fix it to avoid Harley’s fury. I showed him how to do his eyeliner in return. No biggie.”

Steve sighs. “Okay,” he says, clearly dissatisfied. “As long as I'm not missing anything important.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

“Like you falling back into love or something. Because I'm still betting on you two.”

“Okay, enough! I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when we’re getting food.” You go to enter an empty bunk.

Steve stops you with a grunt. “Those are taken. Eddie’s room’s back there,” he points to the sliding door behind him.

“I’d rather sleep on the roof.”

“Sorry, I can’t allow that. Eddie has room for a second person, not that he’s used it.” You try to decode Steve’s cryptism to no avail. Why would you care if he’s used the extra space? Defeated, you shuffle off to Eddie’s tiny room, curling up against the wall in the uncomfortable twin bed. It doesn’t take long before you’re unconscious.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Alright, I’m tapping out.” Eddie puts his hand on the table of the tiny booth. “Gonna rest up before we get to Seattle. G’night.” The guys wave him off, and Eddie slides the door open to his bed. Behind it, you’re sprawled on the tiny bed, laying on your stomach with an arm up on either side of your head. Your mouth hangs open as you snore softly, mumbling every few seconds something incoherent.

The last thing he wants to do is wake you up. Instead, he slides the door closed again and pivots to face Steve. “They’re in my bed.”

Steve mumbles something before flipping over to face Eddie. “So wake them up.”

“They had a rough day, I wanna let them sleep.”

“Then fuckin’ sleep somewhere else. Leave me out of it, like you do everything else.” Steve flips back over to face the wall after yanking the curtain shut. Eddie huffs in annoyance, and opens his bedroom door again.

You’ve moved, now on your side facing the wall. There’s a sliver of floor next to the bed, barely wide enough to fit a person, but it’ll have to do for now. His bones ache with fatigue, and his head is starting to hurt. As he goes to pull a pillow from the bed, he hears you. He can’t tell if you’re awake, so he waits a beat. You repeat yourself, “Just get in.”

“What?” Eddie whispers, in case you’re sleep talking again.

You roll over, your eyes wide open. “Lie down. It’s only an hour or two until we stop and I can get off. You’re tired, I’m tired. Not a big deal.”

Before he can respond, you’ve turned around again, pulling the blanket up to your chin. The bed is small, leaving no way for Eddie to lie next to you without touching you. He winces as his chest brushes against your back, but he lowers himself into the bed anyway. He lay stiffly, careful not to disturb you again, but you stir slightly, pressing into his chest. It takes all of his reserve not to throw his arm around your waist and drag you closer, but he rests his hand on his leg instead. Your warmth lulls him to sleep in minutes.

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @ghost-proofbaby @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

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nari-nterest · 1 year

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Juwon to Dongsik: I don't want you to like me.

Chansung to Manwol: I prefer you not liking me because I'm bothering you.

Guess who ends up falling deeply in love, they are willing to do ultimate sacrifice for the other 🤡

#kdrama #yeo jin goo #beyond evil #hotel del luna #au where chansung and juwon are twins #juwon and manwol are mortal enemies they hate each other ass so much #dongsik and chansung are bffs that coo over their lover cute dramatic ass

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lokislytherin · 1 year

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lookism x hp

broke: gryffindor half-blood!hyungseok x ravenclaw pure-blood!jaeyeol, hyungseok is brave of heart dumb of ass and jaeyeol is his enabler / bodyguard / sugar daddy

woke: slytherin muggleborn!hyungseok x hufflepuff pure-blood!jaeyeol, slightly angsty with all the discrimination (racism, fatphobia, body dysmorphia, social anxiety, selective mutism) but still fluffy, character exploration and study into hyungseok being ambitious and a bamf

BESPOKE: newt scamander!jaeyeol x jacob kowalski!hyungseok. jae's fingerprint lock briefcase is for his illegally smuggled animals, his father hates him bc he's gay + magizoologist instead of an auror, hyungseok makes the best pastries ever + is So Sweet to jae and the animals like you would not believe

#hyungseok is always a bit of a dumdum #but that's why jay loves him #takes a dumdum to love a dumdum trust me on this #lookism #lookism au #lookism harry potter au #we need more of those #jay hong #hong jaeyeol #park hyungseok #daniel park #janiel #jaeseok #idk if i like newt!jay or slytherin!dan more #bc slytherin daniel...#ace seeker of the quidditch team...#fav kouhai of gun and dagyeom the scariest senpais...#also ravenclaw crystalzoe.#enemies to bffs to lovers #for the slytherpuff danjay au they would be enemy seekers #rivals on the streets lovers in the sheets #the ghosts are in Shock bc hello? slytherin's sweetheart in a healthy loving relationship with hufflepuff's young master?#i just want jay with animals too #boy went from Fear Of Dogs to Im Going To Love And Cherish Every Single Creature Ever #he keeps pickett and a gun with him at all times #i don't support jkr so i'll kind of rewrite the wizarding world as a criticism of her bigotry #like the racism i think is perfectly fine bc it's an issue irl that Needs to be addressed #which is why i love early lookism!#so many issues to explore!

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reisakumaproducer · 8 months

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can we do this on tumblr

#mine are: hatsune miku thumbs up cat emoji mutual #bff who constantly ends my friendship #madara mikejimaP who thought was a wataruP at first #kanata’s lover #toku fan who likes kanata #subaru’s lover #phd in skybound #the number one airaP #the rei sakuma expert #enstarrie friend from school #friend from school who likes star trek #number one bassist in the world (to me)#mademoiselle #online friend who reads books #mcr enjoyer whos pfp reminds me of lloyd #pixane fan #blue lock chigiri #my co-thinker in the enstars ninjago au #this is where you are caucasian fan (i think)#former twt mutual who never posts about enstars on here #akatsukiP artist from twt #my fellow ninjago watcher #hatsune miku mutuals friend #my number one rp cousin #the one undeadP with the interesting url #kohaku and leo #the other reiP with fma pfp #thats all I remember #sorry if I forgot you #ninjago fan who likes eah

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jjunieworld · 3 months

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don’t delete the kisses ｡ﾟ🎶 ⋆₊

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, ex-bestfriends to lovers, ex bff!beomgyu, musician!beomgyu, mutual (unknown) pining, fluff if you squint, non-idol!au, alcohol/drinking

synopsis: two years ago, you admitted to yourself that you were in love with your bestfriend beomgyu. two years ago, you and your bestfriend beomgyu stopped being bestfriends. now he’s an up and coming musician and you see his face and hear his music almost everywhere in your local city; not knowing that the songs he writes are about you.

warnings: tipsy sex (consensual), soft sex basically, lots of yearning, unprotected sex (wrap it then tap it), oral (f. rec), kinda service top!beomgyu, slight overstimulation (m. rec), beomgyu is really just catering to y/n, some hair pulling (m. rec), multiple orgasms, creampie, petnames (baby), aftercare

word count: 9.3k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: based off don’t delete the kisses by wolf alice and part three of my v-day event! i didn’t mean for this to be 9.3k omg. be glad i didn’t have the party hosted by jackson wang lmao.. sorry if the lyrics are kinda bad i am nawt a songwriter (there’s no like certain tune to them so reading them regularly is fine)! this beomgyu is the one i was imagining in this (he’s sooo fucking pretty). i hope you enjoy! ♡

two years ago, you admitted to yourself that you were in love with your bestfriend beomgyu.

it was a jarring realization; realizing that you’ve been harboring these slowly growing feelings for him all this time. it was as if one day the house was empty and the next all of the furniture and decorations were displayed and put up. like beomgyu had lived in the recesses of your mind all this time and you’ve never even known.

your acceptance was gradual, mainly because you had buried yourself in your studies along with beomgyu so you didn’t spend as much time together as you both would have wanted. he was studying music, his passion since before you’ve even known him, and you were studying writing. beomgyu was working on his debut ep and you were working on your debut novel.

you had noticed it when you started to realize how much the love interest in your novel reminded you of him. and then how much of your love interest actually was beomgyu, down to similarities in their physical description. it was a moment that beomgyu himself was present for, surprisingly.

beomgyu was sitting on your couch, strumming chords lightly and humming softly to himself as he polished up one of the songs he was writing. you were in the corner of the room at your desk, proofreading the chapter you had just written. a gasp had left your lips as you stared wide eyed at the bright white screen in front of you.

the strumming abruptly stopped as beomgyu turned to you, “what is it?” you bit down on your bottom lip as you read the paragraph over and over again. you saw him shift in the corner of your eye and knew he was about to come and see for himself. quickly, you changed the tab to the one that held your outline. “it’s nothing,” you turned, smiling over at him. “just realized that i accidentally created a huge plot hole…” beomgyu chuckled before returning back to his song.

that night, you had read over everything you’ve written so far in a flurry. beomgyu was everywhere in your novel. from the main character to the side characters to the love interest. there was no escaping him.

“shit,” you muttered as you trailed a hand down your face, throwing your laptop onto your bed as you got up to get a drink from the kitchen. tiptoeing past beomgyu’s room in your shared apartment, you reached the kitchen quietly, hopeful that you didn’t somehow wake him.

turns out that was pointless since beomgyu was leaning against the counter, eyes trained on you. you jumped and threw a hand against your chest. “why aren’t you asleep?!” you whisper-yelled, even though there was no need since it was only the two of you in the apartment. beomgyu grinned, putting the cup he was holding to his lips, “why aren’t you?” he spoke softly as well and you walked over to join him.

beomgyu shined hazily in the orange stove light and you took a sip from the glass of alcohol you poured as you looked at him. the two of you stood there for a moment, quietly taking in each other’s presence.

“so why are you awake? it’s almost four in the morning,” beomgyu asked quietly as he broke the silence. you looked towards the living room and took another sip from your glass. “i was proofreading… you?” you asked, looking back to him. “songwriting,” beomgyu responded. you hummed, nodding a little. “wanna hear what i have so far?” he then asked. you nodded more and he led you to his room.

beomgyu’s laptop was open on his bed, all kinds of cords connected to it. his guitar was strewn across it, like he had tossed it on his bed haphazardly in frustration. beomgyu picked the guitar up and sat it back on it’s stand near the wall. sitting on his bed, he patted the spot next to him so you could join. then, he put the headphones over your head and pressed play on his laptop.

music traveled through your ears. it was just the instrumental, but already you could tell how beautiful the song was gonna be. you looked over at him, a proud smile on your face when suddenly you heard his voice. it was only soft background vocals, the ones that you could barely make out, but it sounded heavenly. when the music ended, your smile stretched from ear to ear and you raised your hands to cover it. “that was beautiful, beomgyu! seriously!”

he gave you an unsure look, “is it? i’m not really sure about it. i feel like it might mess with the flow of the ep…” you shook your head rapidly, the headphones almost coming off. “no you have to keep it, it’s amazing! it’s gonna be even better once you add your voice.”

beomgyu beamed as he took in your words. “i gotta hear it again,” you grinned, pressing play on the laptop. you faintly heard beomgyu’s laugh behind the music.

you would give anything for all of your nights—or early mornings—to be exactly like this. the two of you here together, side by side. laughing together and sharing your passions together. to stay with beomgyu until the very end.

two years ago, you and your bestfriend beomgyu stopped being bestfriends.

just like you admitting and realizing your feelings for him, it was sudden. as sudden as storm clouds slowly passing over the sky and the fury of rain could be. it was late morning and the two of you were on your couch; beomgyu’s guitar in his lap and you sitting next to him as he strummed. he was playing one of the finished songs he had written, the one he had written for you. beomgyu had called it ‘graze.’

“her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss. when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” you sung the lyrics together. beomgyu smiled warmly at you.

beomgyu had given you some insight into the lyrics he had written. the first part, “her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss,” was about the day you had first spoken. it was senior year of highschool and the two of you were paired together on a project. you were meeting somewhere to work on it, but you accidentally walked past the meeting place, completely passing by beomgyu unaware.

the next part, “when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” is when the two of you had gotten close; close enough to share secrets and comfort each other through the thoughts they consumed. everytime the two of you texted, you would end the conversation off with an ‘xxx.’ kisses. it had become your thing with beomgyu, so much so that he wrote it into his song.

when the song had ended, beomgyu suddenly perked up. “let me show you the song i’ve been working on! the one i showed you the other day,” he exclaimed. he started strumming chords, humming softly as he began the song. “i only have, like, one lyric for it right now,” he interjected as he continued strumming.

“too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind…” beomgyu sang to the tune of his guitar. your smile faltered, but you managed to put it back in tact as beomgyu glanced up from his guitar to ask for your opinion. it was a love song he was writing. a love song for someone that wasn’t you.

“it’s beautiful, like all of your songs are. i like the new addition! how long have you been working on it?” you smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. beomgyu began to blush as he turned to set his guitar aside, moving his hair over his ears. the tips of them were red. “for a little bit now. i just can’t seem to find the words of the feelings i want to convey,” he replied.

your glass heart shattered, it’s pieces making its way into your bloodstream. piercing pieces dug into beomgyu’s skin. “who’s the lucky person?” you asked, swallowing hard. he turned back to you and smirked. “just someone i’ve known for a while... i think we’re really starting to hit it off!”

after that day, you started to distance yourself from beomgyu. at first, it was only your feelings. limiting the amount of times you touched in any way or adding space between your bodies when you were near each other. then, it was almost as if the two of you were strangers living in the same place.

beomgyu had definitely noticed. you could feel his lingering look at the back of your neck. hear his questions in the air that hangs between you. but your feelings just wouldn’t go away. maybe they were right when they said that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

you locked yourself in your room, working on and rewriting your book over and over again. trying—and failing horribly—to remove beomgyu from the caverns of it. nothing worked, but you were desperate.

one day, beomgyu was playing his guitar a little too loud while you were in your room writing. usually, this wouldn’t be a problem at all. beomgyu always made sure not to be too noisy when you were writing, even though you always told him how much it helped you to have the background music. but this time, this time was different.

you were frustrated, agitated, still deep in love, and still deep in the great unreciprocated. you had flung your door open and stormed into the living room where he was playing and yelled at him to stop.

beomgyu looked up at you with wide, shocked eyes. it was dead silent for a moment, not even the sound of your breathing was heard. too late you realized what you had done. silently, beomgyu collected his things and made his way to his room, not sparing you a single glance or even a murmur. you watched him, an apology, an excuse on your lips.

the next day after you came home from researching at the library, you found a single note from him that was left on the kitchen counter. “i can’t live here with a stranger anymore,” was all it said. finally, you noticed how empty the apartment looked. how empty it looked for a while now. beomgyu was gone, and it was all your fault.

today, you could barely walk the streets of your city without seeing his face or hearing his music.

“UP AND COMING!” the article’s title had read as they delved into an interview with your former best friend. you pushed the laptop away, even after these two years apart you couldn’t face him. not even through a screen. couldn’t face how you tore your friendship apart because you couldn’t control your own feelings. maybe love just wasn’t meant for you.

you heard a sigh from next to you. “just read it!” your friend, yeonjun, drawled. “you’re mentioned.” you let out a sigh yourself with a roll of your eyes as you grabbed the laptop. “if i’m mentioned, it’s not gonna be something good.”

you scrolled down the article until you got to the part where beomgyu got interviewed. most of the questions were about his debut album and upcoming tour. you haven’t listened to any of his songs since he released his ep. hearing his voice was just too much. your eyes stopped on a question that mentioned one of the songs from his debut ep; your song.

Q. one of your more, if not most, popular song is a song called ‘graze.’ can you give us some input into what the song is about? how you came up with it? BEOMGYU: i actually had written the song for someone who i was very close to at the time. originally, the song was about the dynamics of our friendship. but as things change, so did the meaning of the lyrics. speaking of the lyrics, when i wrote the song i had come up with them first and the rest just kinda flowed after that. it was the first song that i had finished for my ep, and the one i was most proud of. i’m really happy that a lot of people enjoy the song!

you inhaled sharply at his answer. “but as things change, so did the meaning of the lyrics.” you weren’t expecting him to hold fondness for you after everything, after all this time, but his response did sting.

Q. you mentioned how the meaning of the song lyrics changed, does that tie into the title of the song? was ‘graze’ a double meaning this whole time? BEOMGYU: i guess you could say that! there wasn’t a double meaning at the beginning, but alas… to graze means to be scraped lightly in passing, to break the surface of the skin. but it also means to touch, to caress. to slightly damage or to gently touch.

Q. it also means to take in small quantities at frequent, did you know that? BEOMGYU: i didn’t! see how meanings can change!

blinking the tears brimming in the corner of your eyes away, you look back over to yeonjun. he looked at you with eyebrows raised and you shrugged at him. what did he want you to say? that you missed him? you did. that you wish things were different between the two of you? you do. what is that going to change?

“he mentioned the song he wrote! for you!” yeonjun exclaimed. you shrugged again, “he mentioned the song he wrote for someone he used to be close with. like he said, things change.” yeonjun groaned as he fell into the pillows on your bed.

shortly after beomgyu had moved out, you moved into a smaller, one bedroom apartment. it was eating away at you inside looking at how empty and lifeless your apartment you had shared with beomgyu looked. you couldn’t take how everywhere you looked, a memory of the two of you followed.

“he’s having a show at the arena downtown. we’re going,” yeonjun stated. your eyes widened and you furiously shook your head. “no… no i can’t.” two years and you crossed the street if there was a poster of him up next to the sidewalk. two years and you went everywhere with headphones, music blasting in your ears to cover his playing softly throughout the city. you couldn’t see him face to face. couldn’t watch as his smile faltered and his eyes lost their emotion as he looked at you.

yeonjun reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets, “it’s too late, i already got the tickets. i can’t watch anymore as the two of you avoid each other. it’s been two years and not once have i seen the both of you in the same room let alone on the same block.” you put your face into your hands as you leaned over onto the bed, groaning loudly.

somehow you forgot that beomgyu and yeonjun were also friends. close friends at that. the two of them were friends before you and beomgyu were. you wanted to curse at the sky. “and don’t even try to find some way out of it either. i will drag you there kicking and screaming if i have to.” yeonjun added.

“but i have to finish writing my bo—“ you started before yeonjun swiftly cut you off. “it’s this weekend, so you have the whole week to prepare yourself.”

when you were alone that night in the comforting isolation of your bedroom, you let yourself scroll through your old messages with beomgyu. let your eyes wander over the ‘xxx’ at the end of your messages. you fingers moved on their own as they began typing out a message.

old apologies, old excuses. you had the nerve to add ‘xxx’ at the end like the two of you were still who you once used to be. you deleted the kisses at the end, deleted the message altogether. it’s not that you would ever send it anyways.

you thought about how your life would be if you and beomgyu weren’t strangers now. if you were more than best friends, getting to know each other again. you imagined late nights of you taking him out to bars in celebration of his new releases. pressing proud kisses to his lips as the alcohol and your love warmed the both of your bodies. shaking your head to yourself, you pushed the thoughts away. no use in daydreaming.

the damning beat of your heart got louder and louder the closer you and yeonjun got to the arena. the closer and closer you got to beomgyu. at the rate your heart was going, the sheer loudness would create a guilty beat for everyone to sing along to.

you handed in your tickets and made your way to the floor. when you read the tickets and saw that they were for the floor, you almost killed yeonjun. you thought you could be sly and sit somewhere in the seats, somewhere where beomgyu wouldn’t have a high possibility of seeing you. you were wrong.

yeonjun grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to the stage. when he tried to pull you right up against the barricade, you pulled away from him and he sighed. the two of you settled close to the stage, but not so close that you’d be touching noses with beomgyu. a compromise.

the lights had dimmed and the crowd had filed in until it was jam packed in the arena. your heart couldn’t help but swell with pride. he did it, he really did. he achieved the one thing he wanted the most, and you couldn’t be prouder of him for it.

the band came on stage and the crowd erupted with cheers and screams from all around you. you looked over to yeonjun, who was cheering along with them. you laughed, the sound being covered, but still there nonetheless. everything only got louder when beomgyu stepped onto the stage. you swear the girl next to you almost passed out.

when you saw him, the spotlight illuminating him—making him look like all of the stars in the sky, it was as if it was only the two of you in the room. the crowd of people around you faded and your breath hitched when he started to look over the crowd with a big warm smile. your face heated and you looked away, hiding so he wouldn’t see you. it’s been a while since you’ve done that.

what were you doing here? what was yeonjun thinking? that he would see you in the crowd and everything would fall into place? that he would call your name and the crowd would part as you made your way to the stage? that he’d take your hand and kiss you in front of everyone, in front of the whole world to see? what a stupid thought.

you wanted to leave but you were trapped from all sides. beomgyu sat on the chair that was placed in the center of the stage, his one and only guitar on his knee that you’ve become so accustomed to. “how is everyone doing tonight? well, i hope!” he said, strumming the strings of his guitar lightly. the crowd erupted again, words barely audible.

shaking your head, you grabbed yeonjun’s arm. “i can't do this, yeonjun. i want to go home.” he turned to you with furrowed eyebrows of worry. the girl next to you gave you an ear to ear smile, “i know right? isn’t he just so dreamy!” in turn, you gave her a barely disguised grimace and turned back to yeonjun. yeonjun laughed at your reaction, “get over it! let him sing to you! we’re staying.” he turned back to the stage and you realized that beomgyu had already began playing a song.

not just any song, the song that he wrote for you. he was singing ‘graze.’ yeonjun smirked at you and you’ve realized you’ve fallen into his trap. vaguely, you remembered that beomgyu always started out his shows with the song he had written for you. you wanted to use his guitar to bash your head in.

“her hair glowed in the sunlight as she grazed past me; like a leaf on a tree branch of a tree i’ll never see. over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss. when the darkness seals me in it’s cold maze, she sends me her remembrances in the form of a kiss,” beomgyu sang softly to the tune of his guitar. the live band behind him made the song more layered, in a way you haven’t heard since you’ve first heard the finished song.

“under newborn stars, we bear witness, we watched it all begin. i feel the heat of mars, my worn guitar, like her fingers against my skin,” beomgyu continued the song, the crowd singing along with him. you felt glassy tears in your eyes, threatening to fall. you couldn’t open your mouth to sing, not after all of the circumstances, so your heart sang for you. it was quiet, left only for the empty cathedrals of your ribs to echo back to you.

once he stopped singing, the music continued for a moment, letting everyone take in the song. beomgyu closed his eyes against the bright lights, his hands resting on the edge of his guitar. just as the song ended he opened them, an emotion you couldn’t quite make out in his eyes.

“now, for this next one, it took me a long time to write. two years in fact,” beomgyu spoke as he looked around at the crowd, a slight laugh in his tone. his eyes had just missed yours on his journey and you reeled back slightly in shock, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i just couldn’t seem to find the words to the feelings i wanted to convey. but luckily for you all, i managed to find them,” beomgyu smiled as he adjusted his guitar. “this one’s called ‘tattoos on strangers.’”

those words sounded strangely familiar. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yeonjun look over at you as the crowd cheered. you couldn’t even move to look back at him, to ask why he was staring. you were entirely focused on beomgyu. on the way he looked around the crowd with twinkling love in his eyes. the way he fiddled with his guitar like he was antsy to let the music flow out of him. it entranced you, dazzled you, entrapped you.

beomgyu inhaled sharply, the sound catching in the mic in front of him, as he strummed the chords of one of his songs you’ve never heard before. “we’re two moths to a burning flame; they call us icarus. now all that’s left between our bodies is the sinking bitterness. our eyes are on the sky, the lies we tell each other are to blame.” you gasped at how heavenly he sounded. at the melodic symphonies he was creating. at how familiar yet so unfamiliar the song sounded to you.

there was a beat as the live band picked up volume. “we’re waltzing together, we’ve gone too far. but we can’t help ourselves, we’re sinful, we’re brand new burning stars. gravity is starting to pull us closer and closer, you say it’s starting to lead to our demise. but don’t worry, baby, our silence—the heaviness between us, will be the disguise,” beomgyu continued. his eyes were squeezed shut as he sang. it made you wonder who he intended the song to be for if he was reacting this way.

“there’s no need to apologize, we’ve witnessed this before, i know your true name. like the ink of a tattoo, you linger, you graze the recesses of my brain. too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind. don’t delete the kisses at the end, just kiss me instead—just this one time,” beomgyu sang as the song came to an end. suddenly it was as if a light switch lit up the dark room in your brain, a certain lyric ringing bells inside.

“too powerful to overtake, oh, you’ve grown all over my mind,” you understood why the song sounded familiar to you. it was the song beomgyu was working on right before the two of you stopped being bestfriends. another thought hit you so hard that you stumbled back into the person behind you and yeonjun gave you another worried look. you stared back at him, eyes wide open.

two lyrics stood out to you, “like the ink of a tattoo, you linger, you graze the recesses of my brain,” and “don’t delete the kisses at the end, just kiss me instead—just this one time.” you turned to look back up at beomgyu, just as he started singing another song. his eyes were traveling the crowd and at that moment, his eyes connected with yours. they widened and he started to blink rapidly for a second, like he couldn’t believe that you were looking at him.

at the same time, both of your eyes traveled to yeonjun, who in turn gave a sheepish smile. he set the two of you up. desperately you wanted to leave, but yeonjun’s hand around your wrist and the crowd wouldn’t let you.

‘graze’, you knew for a fact was for you, but ‘tattoos on strangers’? there was no denying that he wrote the song about you, down to the referencing lyrics. down to the “don’t delete the kisses at the end.” oh god, you thought, oh god. this whole time… this whole time, he was singing about you. he was singing about you when you thought he was singing about someone else and you ruined it. you ruined everything.

suddenly, it was getting hard to breathe with everyone around you and with beomgyu’s eyes on you. he tried hard to make it look like he wasn’t singling you out, but every couple seconds his eyes would lock on you again. you had no choice but to sit and endure. endure his stare, the slight wildness in his look. endure all the songs from his debut album that you never heard; all of which were about you. all of them. endure the way his heart called out to yours, echoing through his songs, and the way yours called back.

your eyes connect once more—just for the briefest of moments—before you looked away, shyness taking over. your face—no, your whole body—felt like it was on fire. just like a brand new burning star. you felt like all eyes were on you, when in reality all eyes were on him.

finally, you looked up again as he announced the last song in the setlist—‘forethought.’ your eyes meet just as he sings, his eyes only on you, “oh, i hear her voice in the wind sometimes. has she given me any thought? i go back to the pastimes—like wind chimes, it’s not all for naught. my wet knees in the winter, it’s my hopeful crime, it’s my savior... it’s my desperate prayer, i scream out her name into the dying nature—it leads me out the maze so i’m with her. it’s a stranded forethought.” you feel tears well up into your eyes and you see tears well up in beomgyu’s too, hidden by the bright lights to the crowd, but not to you. never to you.

after a moment, he repeats with eyes closed in a silent plea, “don’t linger, don’t linger, light bringer, don’t linger. stay with me—send me your remembrances. please, don’t delete those kisses. don’t linger, light bringer. don’t linger.” the tears fall freely from your eyes at the way his voice softly echoes. echoes just like wind chimes in the blowing wind. you feel yeonjun pull you into a hug as a sob escapes your lips.

you don’t register the concert ending, the crowd getting smaller and smaller until there’s only a few stragglers. you move numbly as yeonjun pulls you along behind him. it’s not until you hear a familiar voice, beomgyu’s voice, that you suddenly come back to life.

yeonjun has taken you backstage. the two of you were making your way over to where beomgyu was standing, talking to someone you didn’t recognize, as he packed up his guitar. again, your eyes met, and you pulled your wrist from yeonjun’s grasp. you turned, wild eyes scanning for an exit as your feet moved without needing your input. “y/n, wait!” you heard voices from behind you. you kept going, the fear pushing you forwards faster.

it wasn’t until you were in front of the night bus, voices behind you as you pushed whatever money you had into the bus driver's hands, that you finally felt like you could breathe. the doors closed and the bus began moving as beomgyu and yeonjun ran up waving frantically. the bus kept moving. you looked through the window, terrified wide eyes reflecting back to you in the glass, at their fading figures. at beomgyu’s dejected eyes and yeonjun’s sorrowful ones. at the breaking of your heart, once again.

sighing heavily to yourself, you faced the front of the bus. what has gotten into you? why would you let yourself think that beomgyu would wait for you after these two long years? it was clear to you that what happened at that concert was a goodbye. and maybe you were okay with that. maybe you didn’t mind. you wiped the tears from your cheeks. it’s okay, you’ve always worked better on your own anyways. without the constant tingling of growing feelings, without the heavy stares that hold so much, without the newborn stars—without beomgyu.

when you get home, you waste no time with the alcohol you have. turning your phone off, locking all your doors and shutting all the curtains. you lay on your bed, drunk out of your mind looking up at the ceiling as you think, what if love’s not meant for me?

five days ago, you went to your ex-bestfriend’s concert and listened as he poured his heart out onto the stage for you; while you ran away from him like the echo of a wind chime in the wind.

beomgyu has taken over your mind. has soared through the mountains of your thoughts and settled gently in the valleys of your desires. lingered in the lakes and puddles and the big vast ocean of your memories. all you’ve been thinking about since the concert was him. he’s completely consumed you.

you had scrolled up and down your messages together, laughing at old jokes and shedding tears at old memories. retelling the jokes he made to yourself and pretending that they were yours to begin with as a permanent smile etched itself onto your features.

maybe this all was a sign. a sign that you should stop hiding in the four walls of your bedroom. a sign that you should find some way to contact beomgyu, rekindle the friendship you once used to have and maybe fan the flames of something greater. you wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much you loved beomgyu. tell the whole world about how he makes you feel and every little thing he does that just fills you with so much warmth.

you were scrolling through the photo album you still had of the two of you. at your silly faces and candid moments. you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face if you wanted to. you felt like a teenage girl, giggling softly as she wrote her crushes name in hearts all over her notebooks. wide smile as she wrote in her diary about how much her crush rocked her world. you didn’t care, you couldn’t help it. beomgyu did—he really did—make you feel this way. he’s turned your whole world upside down.

electricity flowed through you until you were so antsy and electric that you just had to do something before it drove you insane. you needed to tell beomgyu, to let whatever was between the two of you happen. needed to have him around you again after these two long years, even if just briefly. god, you felt like such a romantic cliché, but you felt alive.

opening your phone, you finally replied to all of the messages that yeonjun had sent you. they spanned from worried to disappointed to a resigned sadness. you only sent him one message in response:

you: is he still here?

you held your breath, mentally smacking yourself for not looking up beomgyu’s tour dates beforehand. mentally smacking yourself for not garnering the courage earlier. how stupid you were. your phone dinged from yeonjun’s reply:

jjunie: party tonight at 11:30pm. i’ll pick you up around 11. be ready.

breathing out a sigh of relief you looked at the clock. it was already 10pm. you raided your closet for your best looking outfit, throwing it on as you ran to your bathroom to put makeup on. you wanted to look your absolute best.

11pm couldn’t come fast enough. you were waiting by the door when yeonjun had knocked, him barely getting his second knock in before you flung the door wide open. “is it too late?” you asked him desperately, standing limply in the doorframe. yeonjun just chuckled at you and grabbed your wrist, leading you to his car, “never. not for the two of you.”

on the way over, yeonjun told you how the party was thrown by some big celebrity you never heard of and how beomgyu got the two of you invites. it was for such a good start on his sold out tour and debut album. “like, everyone is gonna be there,” yeonjun said to you as he drove around to find a parking space.

once you found somewhere to park, you and yeonjun made your way to the venue where the party was being held. you passed through all kinds of security until you were faced with blasting music in your ears and bodies dancing everywhere. holding tightly onto yeonjun to not get lost, the two of you scanned the crowd.

“do you want to get a drink?” yeonjun yelled over the music to you. you nodded and he led you through the crowd to where the bar was. the two of you got something and drank them silently by the bar. you felt bad for keeping yeonjun tied to you, so you yelled over the music to him, “you can go and mingle! i’ll be fine over here by myself!” he leaned towards you, furrowing his brows. “are you sure?” he asked and you nodded.

yeonjun made his way through the crowd, turning his charm on as he talked to various people. you stayed at the bar, sipping on various drinks until you felt very tipsy. your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for beomgyu, every minute or so.

that’s when you saw him. he was across the room, holding a glass of something and talking to a group of people, when his eyes drifted and just happened to meet yours. beomgyu rendered you completely speechless. you got a good look at him, not being able to do so that well from his place on the stage, and took in how much he’s changed in the past two years.

beomgyu’s short brown hair was now dark, tinged blue in the low scattered overhead lights. the back of it touched the nape of his neck and the front fell over his eyes and ears. he looked absolutely beautiful, even more beautiful than you remember him being. his eyes widened at seeing you, making the natural liner of his eyes stand out.

suddenly, just like at the concert, it felt like it was only the two of you in the room. his eyes widened at seeing you again, his mouth opening slightly. without knowing it, the two of you gravitated towards each other. then you were face to face, standing in front of each other in the flesh. you couldn’t believe it.

you both said each other’s names at the same time, letting out a nervous laugh after. he motioned for you to continue and you swallowed hard. you were thankful that you were tipsy, that the alcohol was smoothing your nerves, because you definitely wouldn’t be standing in front of beomgyu right now if you weren’t.

“beomie…” you trailed before correcting yourself, you didn’t want to pretend to know him like you use to after two years. “beomgyu… there’s no excuse. no apology even sincere enough—“ beomgyu had cut you off, “y/nie, you don’t have to apologize.”

you shook your head. you knew that you didn’t, that he had already forgiven you and moved past it. hell, he wrote a song about it. but you had to. you had to apologize in at least some way. “no, i do,” you stated. “i shouldn’t have let us drift away, shouldn’t have let us become strangers. i shouldn’t have pushed you away. you were my bestfriend and i was scared. i like you so much, so much that you enveloped me completely. my mind, my book, my life… everything.”

you inhaled deeply, looking longingly into beomgyu’s eyes like you had wanted to do now for so long. “all i thought about was you. all i think about is you. and i miss you. i missed you so much, beomgyu. i love you. i’ve always loved you—“ beomgyu sat his glass on the nearby table as you spoke, then cupped your face gently with both of his hands and collided his lips to yours in a passionate kiss to cut you off. it told you everything he was feeling, everything he’s felt for you for who knows how long now. you felt his song lyrics on your lips. felt how every last lyric was written for you, every melody. every atom of your being colliding with every atom of his and creating a beautiful newborn star.

when he pulled away, he pulled you into a desperate and tight hug. he held you so tight it was as if he thought you were a bird that would fly away. you couldn’t blame him, you kind of were. “i don’t think i need to tell you how much i love you, but i will. i’ll sing it in your ear softly and scream it at the top of my lungs for all the stars to witness, y/n. i love you,” beomgyu murmured into the crook of your neck.

you took his hand and led him out the venue. when you suddenly remembered that yeonjun took you here, beomgyu chuckled as he took you to his car. in the warm glow of your city at night, you pointed to various street signs and turns as beomgyu drove to your apartment.

inside your apartment, the two of you couldn’t keep your mouths off each other. the wanting—the need—lifting you up to cloud nine and making you dizzy. when you both somehow got to your bedroom, you were breathless and hot to the touch.

beomgyu had pulled away from you. “is this okay?” he asked, looking into your eyes. you saw the desire inside of them. you nodded, “yes, just please don’t stop kissing me.” and he obliged, his lips on yours again.

one by one, articles of clothing came off. there was brief awkwardness, the hem of your dress getting caught on the earrings you were wearing and the button of his pants refusing to come undone. it all was alright in the end when the two of you were laying on your bed, you only in your bra and panties and him only in his boxers, his huge bulge pressing into your thigh as he hovered above you.

you were growing needy, the alcohol edging you onwards. “beomgyu… i need you inside me,” you whimpered against his mouth as his hard boner rubbed against you. he hummed, lips moving to your neck, causing you to moan. “i need you to fuck me…” you breathed out. beomgyu pulled away with the slightest upturn of his lips.

he sat you up so that you were now straddling his lap as he reached behind you and unclasped your bra. “next time…” beomgyu murmured. “next time i’ll fuck you. but not tonight. tonight… we stop being strangers.” you shivered slightly at your already hardened nipples being exposed to the cool air. shivering more when beomgyu’s wet tongue circled them.

“is that okay?” beomgyu asked, staring into your eyes as he waited for your response. you nodded, unintentionally grinding against him, and moaned out, “yes.” his fingers had gripped your bare waist at the contact and his eyes shut tightly for a brief moment. “next time… i promise you. let me get to know your body again.”

and get to know your body, he did. beomgyu laid you back down gently and then pulled off your panties slowly while staring down at you, eyes caressing every inch of you. you felt yourself getting wetter by the second, gripping the blankets to keep yourself from pulling him to you.

beomgyu pressed his lips to yours once more as he spread your legs apart. he pressed open mouthed kisses to your skin as he moved farther and farther down your body, looking up at you the entire time. you jolted slightly when he pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs. “you’re so breathtaking, even more than before,” beomgyu spoke, trailing kisses up to your knee. he paused for a second, “i missed you so much, y/n.”

his tongue then swirled around your clit and your back arched off the bed, your hands finding their way into his pretty hair. beomgyu groaned, pulling away from your core with a wet mouth, as you pulled at it. just as quickly, he was back at it, making you moan for him as he devoured you. you creating pretty harmonies for him.

“fuck…” beomgyu said lowly. you could see how hard his cock was in his boxers and it made you need him even more. he then pushed two fingers into you, them slipping in easily with how wet you were for him. beomgyu pulled you up from the bed as he continued pushing his fingers in and out of you, tipping your head back and capturing your lips in a sweet and slow kiss. your tongues danced together, waltz together as you clenched around his fingers.

pulling away, you buried your face in his neck as you whimpered his name. “cum for me, baby,” beomgyu said in your ear softly. you didn’t need to be told twice, your warm release spreading all over his fingers.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i-i need you, please… your—your fingers aren’t e-enough.” beomgyu chuckled as he nodded. you released your hold on him so he could take off his boxes, his long and hard cock on full display for you. you used to dream of moments like these.

beomgyu looked at you, asking silently if you were ready. in response, you shakily got to your knees. he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly, you slid down onto him. the both of you gasped at the feeling, moans joining together in a beautiful song as you moved up and down on his cock.

you were giving each other sloppy and needy kisses, beomgyu wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer as he thrusted up into your pussy. you gasped against his lips, your hands laying to rest against his chest. he whimpered as he continued thrusting, “you feel so—so good. so good, baby. do you f-feel good?”

“y—oh… it feels s-so good,” you managed out. you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten with each thrust he pushed into you. with the feeling of his veiny shaft inside you, sending electric currents throughout your body. the feeling of his lips on yours. moaning, you pulled away and rested your forehead on beomgyu’s. “i’m gonna c-cum again, gyu.”

he moved you so your back was against the bed again, your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock still deep inside you. groaning at the new angle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. “let me help you, baby. l-let me do the work,” beomgyu mumbled before you kissed him.

in passionate thrusts, you came around him again and a few seconds later you felt his warm cum pour inside of you. his hips jerked against yours and he let out a whine as he rolled into you, not planning on slowing down. “b-beomgyu…” you whimpered, gripping him tighter and throwing your head back so you were staring hazily at the ceiling. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“l-look at me, my pretty baby, i n-need to see your face,” beomgyu said between hard pants. between the sounds of your skin slapping together and the wet sounds of him entering and exiting you repeatedly. you looked at him through knitted brows, your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back. “f-fuck… god, you d-don’t know what you d-do to me,” he murmured, eyes shutting for a moment. you pulled him down to kiss his jaw. “feels… feels so…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you clenched around him again.

beomgyu was twitching inside you more and more and you could tell he was overstimulating himself just to make you feel good. his words of praise were being slurred as he stared deeply into your eyes, breathing erratically.

when the two had came together, you couldn’t take anymore. your legs were shaking badly and your back was beginning to ache from how much you kept arching it. pushing beomgyu away until he was hovering above you, you barely managed to whimper out in a whisper, “c-can’t take it a-anymore, beomie…”

at your words he slipped out of you slowly, groaning loudly as you clenched tightly around his poor cock the whole way out. “y/n…” beomgyu moaned. he hovered above you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours and arms trembling, before falling down next to you. beomgyu pulled you towards him until you were wrapped in his body. you tried not to think about how his still half hard cock was up against your sensitive pussy. his breath fanning your skin and sending a shiver up your spine.

the two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, coming down from your highs and breathing the same air. beomgyu had been trailing lines down your torso with the tips of his fingers, leaving goosebumps in his wake. you could feel his smile against your cheek at the way your body reacted to his touch.

when you both were strong enough to get up, he cleaned the cum from between your legs and his with a warm and wet towel and then guided you to the bathroom. beomgyu drew a bubble bath for the both of you, helping you inside of it when your legs began to shake and your knees almost gave out.

now you laid back against his chest inside the bathtub, one of his hands trailing up and down your arm with a washcloth and the other wrapped tightly against your lower stomach. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this…” beomgyu trailed off softly. you turned slightly so you could look up at him. “you don’t know how long i wanted this either. how long i wanted to be with you in general.”

beomgyu smiled warmly down at you, that same warm smile he would give you every time you sang together. “how long?” he asked, playfulness slipping into his tone. “for as long as i can remember,” you giggled. “for as long as i’ve known you.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, the action sending ripples to your heart. “i’ve wanted it for longer,” he replied, laughing when you playfully scoffed up at him. “this isn’t our first life together.”

that sentiment made you turn in the tub to face him fully, your eyebrows knitting together and your eyes full of fondness. it almost brought tears to your eyes. “beomgyu…” you murmured as you cupped his face softly and brought your lips to his. you kissed him slowly, trying to show him how much you loved him through it. your actions and words alone will never be able to fully express how you feel for him.

after the two of you cleaned up more in the bath, you laid side by side in your bed. thankfully, you still had some of beomgyu’s clothes that you just couldn’t get rid of from when you still lived together and you would steal them. you were in one of beomgyu’s old shirts now, body up against his in the darkness of your bedroom.

“i’m gonna miss you when you leave to go back on tour. i don’t want you to leave,” you whispered softly into the darkness. you weren’t very good at expressing your fears out loud, clearly. but you had to let him know. had to let him know that you didn’t want this to be just a one time thing and you never see each other again. “so come with me,” beomgyu replied at your same tone, simply. “come with me and we won’t have to miss each other.”

you couldn’t help but think of the lyrics of the song he wrote for you, the one the two of you would sing together. “over the canopy, it’s each other that we always seem to miss.” he was right about ‘graze’ having a whole new meaning in his interview. first, it meant the longing between the two of you. always dancing around each other, fingertips always seeming to just brush up against the other’s but never fully grasping. then, it meant the two of you drifting apart. missing the opportunity to admit your feelings and be together. and lastly, right now. right in this moment, the two of you together again after two long years. missing each other until your heart aches even though you’re right next to each other. it is funny how meanings change.

“okay,” you giggled softly. “i’ll come with you.” you weren’t going to linger. he was right, this wasn’t your first life together, you could feel it. you were gonna stay with him forever. beomgyu pulled you closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

last night, your world was turned back on it’s rightful axis as you and your bestfriend beomgyu—your lover beomgyu, sealed the two of your souls together.

that morning you both had woken up to a ton of missed calls and a plethora of text messages. you both stared at each other with wide eyes after realizing that the two of you had basically silently walked out of the celebration that was held for beomgyu. yeonjun scolding the two of you when he realized that not only was beomgyu not at his own party, but that you weren’t there either.

quick kisses and giggles were shared as beomgyu raced to get ready for the schedule he had to do today. “text me, okay? i want to hear from you. i’ll let you know when we’re leaving for the next stop, so get your bags ready,” beomgyu said, throwing his coat on and pressing another kiss to your lips, deepening the kiss for just a moment before he pulled away.

you were standing by the door, a lovesick smile on your face, “i will!” you giggled as he stalled more and pulled you into a hug. “and don’t delete the kisses,” he whispered, kissing your cheek before finally making his way through the door. you waved goodbye to him and shut the door, immediately pulling out your phone.

you: i’ll see you later today. good luck on your interview! xxx

there was an immediate response from him and you giggled as you read it and responded.

beomie: thank you, baby! i love you!! you: i love you more!! xxx beomie: i love you more than there are stars in the sky!!! you: and i love you more than there are galaxies in our universe!!!! xxx beomie: okay… you win… but only because i can’t think of anything better!!!

laughing, you went to your room and started packing the things you needed for beomgyu’s tour.

two years ago—four since the beginning—you left the kisses at the end of your messages to your boyfriend beomgyu.

you were backstage just before one of his shows with him and yeonjun. beomgyu’s arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his side. your mouth was currently hung open in shock at yeonjun’s revealing news.

“i’m sorry, y/nie, but i just had to tell him. two years i had to listen to the both of you cry over each other—two years! i couldn’t do it anymore. i had to tell him about the things you were saying!” yeonjun sighed dramatically as if he were so defeated. you pushed his shoulder lightly, “you ass! then you had the nerve to set the two of us up at beomgyu’s concert with the tickets he gave you!”

beomgyu let out a laugh from next to you, laughing louder when you turned a playful glare to him. “if i didn’t…” yeonjun trailed as he spoke to you with raised eyebrows, “you two wouldn’t be together right now. now would you?” you rolled your eyes at him, wrapping your arms around beomgyu and laying your head on his chest.

“i’d like to think we would find our way back together,” beomgyu spoke, looking down at you. you smiled up at him in return. “uh huh…” said yeonjun, causing the three of you to erupt into laughter.

since beomgyu’s debut album and tour to go along with it, he’s released two more albums. all of the songs about you, once again. in every interview he had, he gushed about you to whoever would listen. you’ve also finally published your book, deciding to let beomgyu’s essence flow through the entirety of it. you couldn’t remove him even if you tried. and trust, you had tried.

one of the staff members gave a signal to beomgyu and he nodded back and gave a thumbs up. it was almost time for him to be on stage. for the first time ever, you were singing ‘graze’ and ‘forethought’ together with their whole new meanings.

you stared at beomgyu’s stunning side profile as he peeked out to the crowd. you almost laughed at yourself, at your past thoughts. of course love was meant for you. of course you and beomgyu were meant to be together, meant to be in love. meant to share each of your lifetimes and universes and supernovas and nebulas and brand new brightly burning newborn stars together.

of course the two of you were meant to love each other forever, how could you ever think differently?

permanent taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @rapmonie2047 @riaawr

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saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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gojonanami · 8 months

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[ last updated: 4/29/2024 ]

‧ ˚. PROFESSOR GETO SERIES ↳ Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin. You're more intent on making him see your brilliance -- but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn about what you owe to each other.

‧ ˚. SATORU GOJO

seeing you tonight, its a bad idea right? | smut, fluff ↳ seeing your ex is always a bad idea, except when its satoru gojo.

bigger than the whole sky | angst, fluff, manga spoilers ↳ before his fight, you and satoru have an honest conversation about the future.

dessert before dinner | smut, fluff ↳ satoru can't wait to have you until you get back from the sister school event, so he plies you with sweet words until you agree to have dessert before dinner.

all's fair (in love and mergers) | long fic, smut, fluff, bffs to enemies to lovers ↳ you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend.

three's a crowd (ft. suguru geto) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.

bloodsucker | smut, dark ↳ you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp?

got you | smut, dark ↳ satoru finally found you -- and he's not going to let you go this time.

is it over now | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave - for him and his best friend (ft. satoru gojo). "if you want, i can come inside?" | fluff, crack, domestic ↳ nobara spots gojo with a sorcerer she's never seen before and of course hijinks ensue (aka hearing gojo's english va (kaiji tang) say the above line in apothecary diaries and i lost my mind).

i wanna show you off | sugar daddy au, smut, fluff, slight angst ↳ when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you

tastes sweeter on your lips | fluff ↳ on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer - with something very sweet.

the doctor is in | smut, fluff, au ↳ when you go to your annual check-up, you didn't think you'd be crushing on your doctor - or that he's conduct such an in-depth examination.

twenty-nine | fluff, angst, crack ↳ it's gojo's birthday, and he can't help but reflect on what birthdays have meant to him over the years, especially the year you decide you don't really want to do anything for his birthday (but it turns out you do).

sit in my lap | fluff, crack, domesticity ↳ you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you.

just a little longer | fluff, angst ↳ after geto defects, you find yourself on a roof of a building wondering where things went wrong - and you're not the only one.

sweet nothing | fluff, angst ↳ satoru always comes running home to your sweet nothings -- except this time.

lower your guard | fluff, smut, au, longfic ↳ after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances. don't want any other shade of blue but you | fluff, smut, fake dating, longfic ↳ you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor. love means to say goodbye | multi-lives au, fluff, smut, angst, jjk manga spoilers ↳ "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love? yakuza fiance (ft. suguru geto) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome ↳ you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

‧ ˚. SUGURU GETO

meant to be | smut, dark ↳ when Suguru defects, he asks you to come with him -- but he's not going to take no for an answer.

three's a crowd (ft. satoru gojo) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.

is it over now (ft. satoru gojo) | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend

might hurt | fluff, crack ↳ suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations.

i just want to fuck all night | smut, fluff, sex pollen ↳ after swallowing a curse, geto finds his body in an uncontrollable state of arousal, and who better help him cure it than you?

would it be enough if i could never give you peace? | fluff, angst, smut ↳ suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

yakuza fiance (ft. satoru gojo) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome ↳ you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

‧ ˚. KENTO NANAMI

no regrets | hurt/comfort, fluff, angst ↳ when nanami is injured from his fight with mahito, you're sent to pick him up. and both of your careful avoidance of your feelings for each other comes crumbling down.

armed and dangerous | smut ↳ nanami's arms were always so nice around your throat, but you never tried having his arm between your legs before, until.

good girls get backshots | smut ↳ nanami has always been a gentleman, but he finally decides to play rough and mark you up -- at your request.

five times nanami wanted to propose but didn't | angst, fluff, smut ↳ nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left.

best part of my day | fluff, domesticity ↳ on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day.

all the time in the world | fluff, hurt/comfort ↳ after shibuya, nanami lets you tend to his burns and have an honest discussion about what happened there and what it means for your future. but i'm a fire (and i'll keep your brittle heart warm) | fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, au ↳ throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

‧ ˚. YUTA OKKOTSU

↳ coming soon :)

‧ ˚. CHOSO KAMO

it's a need | hurt/comfort, smut, fluff ↳ after you take an attack meant for him, choso can't seem to understand why -- so you show him just how important he is to you.

hey emo boy! | fluff, smut, au ↳ saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic?

best friend's brother is the one for me! | fluff, au, smut, bedsharing ↳ you've been asked whether you and yuji are together a million times - but the truth is his brother is more your type -- so what happens when you end up sharing a bed one night?

‧ ˚. RYOMEN SUKUNA

paint the town red | smut, dark, au ↳ you've always been a goody two shoes -- or so your friends say -- so what happens when you decide to do the first bad thing you've ever attempted and try summoning a demon -- and it actually works?

‧ ˚. YUJI ITADORI

don't want you like a best friend! | best friends to lovers, fluff, fwb, smut, au ↳ yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

jealousy, jealousy | smut

which of the men whimper | smut

spooning the dilfs | fluff

jjk men and if they're good at singing | crack

househusband suguru

househusband nanami househusband gojo (1) (2) (3)

mindreader nanami

geto swallowing a aphrodisiac curse

gojo - maybe in another life

guitarist! suguru x opera singer! reader (1) (2) (3)

frat boy! suguru x nerd! reader (1) (2) (3)

curse! suguru (1) (2) (3) bringing suguru back to life

#sab [mlist]#sab [navi]#note concepts are my use only!

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maplesyrupsainz · 5 months

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙finally | LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lando norris x y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au, friends to lovers

warnings: fluff only lol btw TW luisa pics for tht one anon im soo sry im so sry

summary: in which no one believes that you and your boyfriend are actually dating despite both your efforts to hard launch

a/n: took me ages to start this but i couldn't stop thinking about this storyline gahahaaa

request!!!: hiiiiii!!! i wanted to request a lando social media thingy?? where you're childhood friends to lovers and want to soft launch but nobody notices because you're always affectionate or sumn like that🥺

fc: various brunette girls from pinterest

my masterlist

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 134,288 others

oscarpiastri soft launching?

yourusername 😊

landonorris 😘

yourusername 🧡

user4 omg u got a man!!

user5 OMGG WHO!!

user6 spill the beansss

user7 wonder what lando thinks about this

landonorris

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 682,799 others

landonorris ⛳️

view all 9,284 comments

carlossainz55 i'll win next time 🥇

landonorris keep dreaming

yourusername aww look at us

landonorris 😘💋

user8 does he have a gf

user9 urm not that we know of

user10 who is the gf??

user11 idk but i'd be annoyed at that pic of y/n & lando

user12 love carlando golfing together still

oscarpiastri lol

landonorris i thought it was obvious

yourusername 😭😭

user13 ???

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 201,384 others

yourusername me & my bracelets & my lando

view all 5,304 comments

landonorris why would you post that picture of me

yourusername funny

user14 LOL i love them

user15 are they dating??

user16 no way. they're childhood best friends

user17 he's down baddd

user18 i would hate to be dating either of them they're soo close to each other

user19 the bracelets awww she's such a sweet girl

oscarpiastri 💀

yourusername stop it you

landonorris hahahaha

user20 what is thisss

messages ->

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 321,894 others

yourusername 🩷

view all 8,128 comments

landonorris 😀😀😀

user24 wait?

user25 are they dating

user26 surely not

user27 omg they're sooo cute together

liked by yourusername

user28 something is going on here

user29 🐟🐟🐟

user30 wait was lando's tweet serious

user31 idk i think they're just close bffs??

oscarpiastri so close yet so far

yourusername 😰😰😰

landonorris 😤😤😤

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 498,136 others

oscarpiastri hahahahahah ur trying soo hard

landonorris im hard hard launching.

user32 hmmmm

user33 keep dreaming

user34 okay im convinced

user35 are you actually dating

landonorris YES WE ARE

yourusername posted a story

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 237,183 others

oscarpiastri is it working yet

yourusername will keep u updated

landonorris pls god let it work

user36 ok im starting to believe

user37 omg they're dating

user38 wait have they been trying to hard launch this whole time & no one believed them..?

user39 OMG THEY'RE IN LOVE

user40 landoy/n nation rise

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 791,394 others

yourusername THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND (real) (not a prank) (i literally love him guys)

tagged: landonorris

view all 13,293 comments

danielricciardo finally

landonorris finally? not like we've been rubbing it in everyone's faces and no one believed us

user41 he's so sick of it hahaha

user42 most sincere apologies to the happy couple for doubting them

user43 i can't believe they're actually dating

user44 IT'S REAL???

user45 y/n is lando mad at us

yourusername very much so but he'll get over it dont worry

landonorris not sure i will actually

user46 please forgive us lando

user47 WE'RE SORRY LANDO

liked by yourusername, landonorris, oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri and you guys got there in the end!

yourusername thanks for bullying us the whole time

landonorris btw i have loved you for so long and will continue to love you for even longer

THE END 🧡

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x reader #smau #lando norris #ln4 #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #maddie's smau

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bvidzsoo · 2 months

Text

drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them

author: bvidzsoo

pairing: ot8 x reader

tw: nsfw

genre: smau, reactions, best friend to lovers!au

a/n: another random one lol kill me atp, these were so not supposed to be nsfw idk what happened, help. perhaps a few of these are...strong, if you know what i mean, lol. don't mind me, enjoy!

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

977 notes · View notes

revasserium · 7 months

Text

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

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