#i thought maybe it's his notebook but it seems to be a box?

[never-looked-so-good]

📷 @/scuderiaferrari

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[imjustreadinglmao]

Biscuits and Flowers 💐

Eris x Reader one shot

Summary: You want to surprise Eris but he’s stressed out and accidentally rejects you.

Warnings: angsty, hurt reader, slight miscommunication, work stress (High Lord Eris is working hard)

A/N: this ain’t shit… but Eris is still my baby

Word count: 1,4k

You were nervous as you walked into the Forrest House, your stomach fluttering as you made your way up to Eris’s office.

Since he became High Lord, a lot had changed.

You could finally hear children laughing and playing out on the streets.

Musicians were putting on shows for everyone to hear.

The land itself seemed to thrive. Trees grew taller than before, their leaves a more vibrant color.

Only the High Lord himself, you noticed, was more stressed and agitated than ever.

While out on a hunt last week, he told you how most of his nights were spent awake, plagued by his own thoughts and worries.

That’s when you decided that he needed something to put him in a better mood.

So you asked Elain to help you bake his favorite biscuits as a surprise.

On your way to the Forrest House, you also picked some lovely wildflowers, hoping they would bring a smile to his face.

And you had another important mission today…You wanted to ask him out on a date.

You two had been toeing around each other for a while now, but you were always too shy to say anything.

So today, after you gave him the gifts, you promised yourself, and Elain, you would ask him.

As you knocked on his office door, you remembered what Elain said to you: “That man is absolutely smitten with you. There is no world in which he would say no.”

You took a deep breath, pushed the door handle down, and stepped in.

Eris sat at his desk, his eyes so focused on the reports in front of him that he didn’t even notice you stepping into the room.

You walked over to him, flowers in one hand and a box filled with biscuits in the other.

A small smile played on your lips.

Everything will be fine, you thought.

Finally, as you halted in front of his desk, his head snapped up.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh and looked down, getting even more nervous with his gaze now fixed on you.

“Well, I am successful then. I know you’ve been so overwhelmed lately, so I wanted to surprise you.”

You held up the box and flowers to show him.

“I baked the biscuits you like so much. Oh, and I also got you some flowers.”

In the process of setting them down, you accidentally knocked over a candle.

The wax was now everywhere: on his papers and pens, the books and notebooks, even on his ink pad at the far end of the oak desk.

Your hands flew out to set the candle upright again, wax still pouring from it.

“Gods, I am so sorry, Eris. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You looked at him, tears threatening to build because of how embarrassed you were.

Eris just stared at the ruined papers, hours of work probably gone to waste now.

You picked up one of the papers, wanting to wipe the wax off it. “Here, let me see if I can—”

“No.” Eris took the paper out of your hand. “Just leave it. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Eris was lying, he couldn’t even look at you.

You came here to cheer him up, and instead, you somehow managed to add more stress to his day.

And now you were standing in the middle of his office, shoulders slumped, guilt written all over your face.

“This wasn’t how I imagined this surprise to go.” You cringed, Eris still not looking at you.

“I didn’t want to cause you more stress. I can help you rewrite everything. And then maybe after that we can have dinner? I can make the tarts you like so much and—”

“Stop.” You flinched at his harsh tone.

“Just stop.” Eris shook his head in annoyance and sighed. “You’re making everything worse with your rambling.”

Your fingers began to tremble, and you quickly shoved them in the pockets of your dress so he wouldn’t see.

He had every right to be mad. And he also had every right to reject your dinner offer.

You almost expected him to say no, even before you destroyed half a day’s work with your mishap.

Hel, you didn’t even know if he saw you as any more than a good friend.

Sure, you were around each other often, thanks to your friendship with Elain and Lucien, but that didn’t mean he had to like you.

You must have misread the signs. Gods, this was beyond embarrassing.

He probably hated you now.

Tears gathered in your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them drop.

You would cry later in the safety of your room, but not like this and surely not in front of him.

That would just make matters worse.

“You can leave now.” Eris’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked down again, amber eyes meeting yours.

His face was unreadable, detached even. As if his body was here but his mind elsewhere.

He made no attempt to say anything else, so you turned and walked out the door, leaving the biscuits and flowers on his desk.

As you walked back to your room, you didn’t stop to greet the servants or the other librarians.

The thoughts in your head were simply too loud to acknowledge anything else.

It wasn’t until you curled up on your bed that they finally stopped racing.

—————————

A knock sounded on Eris’s office door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and Lucien poked his head in.

“I didn’t think you would be here.”

Lucien closed the heavy oak door behind him and sauntered up to where Eris was sitting.

“Elain said you would already be gone by now.”

Eris looked up from where he was writing, his eyebrows furrowed. “And where exactly would I be if not here?”

Arms crossed and hip propped against the desk, Lucien replied, “Oh, I don’t know… maybe at dinner with a certain librarian?”

Eris just looked at him, mouth slightly agape, a clueless expression on his face.

“I know she was here and brought you these.”

Lucien held up the gifts you left for Eris.

“And you’re still working, so I’m assuming you said no?”

Eris was standing now, the reports before him completely forgotten. “What do you mean I said no?”

“Wait… she didn’t ask you?!” It was Lucien’s turn to act confused.

“I swear to the Mother, Lucien. If you don’t tell me right now what exactly is happening, I’m going to find methods to make you talk.”

Lucien held up his hands in surrender.

“I’ll tell you, no need to get all violent.”

He chuckled and continued,

“Y/N mentioned she was going to surprise you to cheer you up. I also overheard Y/N telling my mate that she wanted to invite you to dinner. I figured she’d asked you today, but maybe I misheard.”

Eris’s eyes were wide.

“She was going to ask me what?” he asked, hands digging into the wooden desk.

“She wanted to invite you to dinner. Just you and her.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lucien added, “like a date… I presume.”

At that, Eris went unrecognizably still.

Then he rounded the table and strode to the door, swinging it open with so much force that it crashed into the wall.

Lucien could only mutter a confused, “Where are you-” before Eris was out the door and down the hall.

Finding your room was easy. Eris had been there often enough to know the way.

He was running now, servants and nobles alike turning their heads and giving him confused looks.

But Eris couldn’t care less.

His priority was getting to you and explaining himself, plus a lot of begging for a second chance.

He slowed down and came to a stop in front of your room.

Right as he lifted his fist to knock, he heard Elain’s voice through the door.

“It’s going to be okay. This will pass.”

“You should have seen his face, Elain. I made such a fool of myself by even asking him. I shouldn’t be surprised that he rejected my offer. I basically ruined his entire day with my stupidity.”

Eris’s heart sank at that. He had been so stressed about the reports that he didn’t even hear you say anything.

The only thing he remembered was you stepping in to the office.

And then wax was pouring all over the documents and his mind just… left.

If he hadn’t dissociated, he would’ve- he would’ve said yes.

How could he not? You were the smartest, funniest and most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes upon.

You were a ray of sunshine in his life, always brightening up his day.

And now you were in your room, crying because of him, and he could do nothing except stand there and listen to your muffled sobs.

A/N: don’t worry, they have their happy ever after. Eris finds her the next day. He apologises over and over again, takes her out to dinner and they have five beautiful children. 

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 21: Love is letting him pick the music @sparklyslug

Steve had been dating Eddie for a few months and pretty much their only disagreement was what music to play in the car. They often took turns driving for dates or errands or picking up the kids but would always bemoan the other's radio station. The tapes were no better, only matching the driver's preference.

After another dumb squabble the week before over the music on their drive home from dinner, Steve had had an idea. Now he sat in his bedroom, tape recorder in hand, tapes strewn everywhere and slowly a little list forming on a notebook page.

He was practically jumping with excitement when he finished, picking up the finished mixtape. He quickly got ready for their date and with a smile on his face popped the new tape in the glovebox, heading towards the trailer park.

Eddie was bouncing on the steps when Steve pulled up, seemingly equally excited to see his boyfriend.

"Hey, baby," he said sliding into the car with a kiss on Steve's cheek. Tonight was special, six months since they started dating. Steve knew it was a little silly to have month anniversaries but he was a romantic and Eddie certainly didn't seem to mind.

They got burgers at the favourite diner but Steve was distracted thinking about the gift in his car. Now back in the car he was about to give it to Eddie when Eddie spoke first.

"I, um, I got you something, well, made really," he said sheepishly handing Steve a small parcel wrapped in newspaper.

"Oh, Eds, that's so sweet of you," he replied happily unwrapping the gift. Wait.

"You made me a mixtape?"

Eddie blushed softly, "Yeah, it's ah, it's um for you to have in my van though."

Confused, Steve flipped over the tape to read the tracks, finding a lot of his favourites mixed with a lot of Eddie's.

"Thought you deserved a piece of yourself in my car, besides maybe pop is growing on me."

Steve laughed softly, "Eds, look in my glovebox."

Now it was Eddie's turn to look confused, he opened the panel to see a new tape box sitting next to the others. He gingerly took it and scanned his eyes over the tracks, eyes lighting up.

"Did you make this for me?"

"Think you deserve to have a piece of yourself in my car too, don't mind sharing the airwaves with you."

There weren't as many arguments over music after that, what else would they want to listen to besides a perfect blend of each other.

[writingroom21]

Letters To Your Lover

Pairing: rafe x reader

Summary: After moving into a new place together, Rafe finds your old middle school diary. Along with it the thousands of love letters to your middle school crush.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up), orgasim denial, Rafe being an idiot, let me know if I missed any

Wc: 1K

“What the hell is this?”

 Rafe burst into the living room holding a little bound notebook. The two of you just moved in together after dating for a year and a half. You were in the middle of unpacking the kitchen boxes as he was in the bedroom going through both of your boxes. That's when he found the little book at the bottom of one of your boxes. 

Curiosity got the best of him and he had to take a look. At first everything was fine. Some notes from when you were in middle school. Then as he kept going he noticed a shift, it started to become a diary a few pages in. Stories of your days painted on the page for him to take a glimpse of your childhood.

His smile faded when he found the first letter. A little note to your crush that seemed to be never ending. Letter after letter gushing about some kid you were obsessed with. Realistically he knows that this was middle school you, the two of you weren't even friends until Junior year of highschool.

There’s no logical reason for him to be so upset about some old crush you had. Then he thinks about the fact you kept them. He looks at the pages, imprinting the letters to memory. He can’t shake the feeling that this is who you really want, there’s no other explanation as to why you would still have these.

Dear pretty boy,

Today you smiled at me in the hall and it made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. I wish you would fully notice me. I would do anything for you to actually feel the same way about me. But it’s okay, I can wait.

Hey pretty boy,

Your eyes are so pretty, they have become my favorite color. The way you smile is so bright and I wish I could make you that happy. Everyday I wake up hoping this will be the day you notice me. Maybe tomorrow will be the day, maybe not. All I know is that deep down we are meant for each other.

The list goes on, note after note. It disgusts him to think that you even call him that. That’s your special nickname for him and here it is used for another guy. His anger gets the best of him and now he’s standing in front of you. Holding the book in your face as you give him a confused look.

“Umm a diary?” He scoffs and throws it on the counter behind you. “Yeah, one filled with love letters.” It clicked in your head that he read it and saw all the cringy letters you wrote. “Oh god you read all of those? I'm so embarrassed right now.” You have got to be kidding him. You’re embarrassed because he read them and not over the fact you kept something for another person.

“God I knew you liked being a slut but really keeping this shit is something else. Just thought I wouldn’t find this.” What is he even going on about? It’s something you did as a child. “Rafe.” He does let you continue your sentence. “Get on your knees right now.” He’s unbuckling his belt as you sink to the floor. 

Whipping out his dick, he starts to stroke it as you open your mouth for him. This isn’t the first time he’s punished you like this. He finds it amusing to watch the tears pool up in your eyes as you try not to choke on him. Without much care he shoves himself into your waiting mouth, touching the back of your throat before retreating. The cycle continues, he brutally face fucks you in the middle of the kitchen.

The sounds of your choked moans and gags fill up the room. Tears are falling down your cheeks only fueling him. “Maybe next time you’ll think about not writing to someone else. Fucking dumbass catching your attention.” Wait, is this what it’s all about? The letters being to someone else? God this man could be dumb.

Just before he’s about to cum he pulls out and grips your hair to tug you up. “Come on, bend over. I’m only cumming in your pussy.” He manhandles you over the counter and pulls your shorts along with your panties down. You are already soaked from sucking him off so he easily slid right in. “Wuch a wet fucking pussy. You just love when you suck me off don’t you sweetie. My little cock drunk whore.” You moan loudly at his words.

His pace gets faster if that’s even possible, thrusting hard into you. “Who do you belong to?” Rafe has always been possessive but never in the bedroom. Something about reading your silly crush letters just set him off. He knows you liked other people but in his brain he was the only one you ever wanted. Seeing it aimed at someone else is like torture, even if it was from years ago. 

His thrust gets more intense, ready to cum any minute. “Come on, tell me.” he delivers a hard smack to the globe of your ass. “You baby. Always going to be you.” Being satisfied with hearing you agree that you did it for him. Like an automatic response he was cumming right after your sentence ended.

The two of you stay there for a second, not really moving. Reluctantly he pulls out and slides your pants back up. Here’s the part of your punishment that you hate, orgasm denial. It’s known that anything he gives you is taken like a champ, finding pleasure in the pain. But this, he figured out how much you hate being denied an orgasm early on. That’s his favorite form of punishment.

“You know those letters were about you right?” You are still bent over the counter, forehead rested on it. He tenses behind you. “What?” You turn around and look at him, smiling at the dumbstruck look on him. “Those corny letters were about you dumbass. Had this huge crush on you back then.”

With no words he gives you a kiss and throws you over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you giggle as he walks towards the bedroom. “We have a new bed to break in and it seems like I owe you a few orgasm’s as an apology” How could you argue with that? The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other's arms, forgetting about the pile of boxes scattered around.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

White lies [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

summary: you meet Spencer thanks to a nice coincidence and you become recurring chess partners, but he leaves out a small detail

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

Spencer had come back to that park after a long time and, honestly, it was as quiet as he remembered it. He liked to sit there to read, watch the birds, listen to the trees hitting each other; just enjoy a moment of life. Matthew, a teenager he used to play chess with, sometimes kept him company, but he knew from his mother that he had sprained his ankle and could barely get out of his room, so those evenings it was just him and a couple of old men in a remote section of his favorite hangout.

The book he had in hand could have finished in less than ten minutes if he had wanted to, but it was one he had a particular interest in and so he was taking notes in a notebook by his side, lengthening his reading time. And besides, he had proposed to take things a little more calmly since the recovery of his leg, now that he could walk by himself, and that seemed to him a quite useful exercise.

The man was dimly aware that someone was sitting at the table next to his, but curiosity was not enough to force him to look away from the pages. It wasn't until after a while that he heard the characteristic sound of the chess pieces moving in the box that formed the board that he paid attention and noticed that the one who was settling there was a woman.

He tried not to look at you too much so as not to make you uncomfortable, but the quick scan he gave you only led him to the conclusion that you might be a college student and that you were very pretty. You were carefully arranging the pieces and once you finished, you looked around the whole park as if you were looking for something or someone, and then you took a pack of chocolates from your backpack and put it to the side of the board, somewhat disappointed that you hadn't found who you expected.

"Are you waiting for Matthew?" Spencer dared to ask. You were startled and had to ask him to repeat the question, a little afraid that a stranger had made such a pointed remark "I've seen him a couple of times eating those sweets and since he likes chess, I thought you were expecting him"

"Oh, you know him" you exclaimed, a little calmer. You were surprised by how observant the man had been, for a couple of random pieces of information had led him to the correct conclusion "I was his babysitter for a while and I ran into his mother the other day and she said he comes here in the evenings so I thought I'd come to see him”

“Too bad, he has a sprained ankle,” he informed you, with a sad grin. “Maybe he'll be back in a week or two. I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Y/N" you introduced yourself, shaking the hand the man was offering you "So you guys are friends?"

"Sometimes I play with him"

"Huh yeah?"

"Yeah. He is very good"

“I taught him,” you said, quite proud of yourself, “I hated when he asked to watch TV, and I brought all kinds of board games over to his house, until finally chess captivated him. In those years he participated in school contests so I was excited to play with him "

“Did you win some?”

“I was undefeated” you exclaimed, even more proud of yourself and smiling wistfully “But after a few years I gave it up. Matthew continued, so I thought it would be nice to dust myself off a bit,” you smiled.

You took a moment to look at the man, who might be only a few years older than you, and like him you were somewhat captivated. His long, wavy, golden hair gleamed in the sun and he seemed to wear clothes that were, if not expensive, then at least quite elegant. You looked at the stack of books and the notes scattered on the table with great interest, because frankly the only men who met all those characteristics used to be your grandfather's age and, although their talks were interesting, you couldn't get to think of them with anything more than tenderness. This person was different, almost like a sage out of a book.

You didn't know where you found the words to invite him to play with you and you didn't know why he agreed. He seemed busy when you arrived, which made you think that he might even be a teacher, but he stopped his activities to pay attention to you and that made you feel special.

"You like them? You can take some if you want. They were for Matty, but I'll buy him some more,” you said kindly, referring to the candies between you, to which Spencer nodded with a smile. You used to play with strangers all the time in that park, so you didn't think it was weird, but never one as handsome as the guy in front of you. You probably wouldn't even have dared to talk to him if he hadn't talked to you “White or black?”

“Black,” Spencer replied. You thought that maybe he was just being chivalrous to you by letting you move first, but you were also overconfident in your abilities and thought that he might feel bad if you turned out to be better.

"I'm not very good, I have to admit" you blatantly lied.

"Relax, I'm not either" he also lied. But neither of you could notice it.

The way Spencer saw the situation, he had two options: the first, demonstrate his extraordinary intelligence by beating you with a couple of moves, or the second, which was to turn off his brain for a while to give yourself a chance and lengthen the game a bit. He knew that, if he took the first option, you would most likely just smile and flatter him like everyone else did, or you might even ask him how he had done that. But Spencer was sick of being treated like a genius, despite being one, and having that label branded in his mind every place he went. He loved to learn, teach and know as much as he could on all subjects and he wasn't one bit ashamed of the abilities his mother gave him at birth, but his short experience with women led him to deduce that he had a better chance of continuing to talk to you throughout the afternoon if he would just play a little silly and pretend not to know what he was doing. And he definitely wanted to be with you that day.

It had been a while, and at some point, you moved a bishop.

Check in 4 moves if Spencer moved the rook.

He moved a pawn, you took the pawn.

Bishop takes the pawn and check in 10 moves.

He moved the knight. You moved your queen

Rook takes queen then checkmate in 5 moves.

But Spencer ignored any of the logical options his brain was giving him. He was moving pieces wrong on purpose and moving another pair well just so he could enjoy your face of concentration and victorious smiles when you made a smart move that he could have foreseen from the start of the game. He analyzed your game, you attacked hard at first, you were impulsive, but at some point you changed your modus operandi to a more calculating and strategic one, your eyebrows gave you away when you were going to make an important play.

"Check" you muttered at some point. Spencer knew how to beat you, but, I repeat, he moved badly on purpose "And that's mate"

"Oh really?" he said, pretending to be puzzled.

"Yes, you left the way clear for my bishop" you explained, with a kind tone but also somewhat condescending. It didn't seem like you wanted to make fun of him, but rather you were looking for a way to make him see his mistake, without knowing that your companion knew exactly what he had done wrong.

"Oh, it's true"

"Either way it's fine, you played excellent" you exclaimed to comfort him, while you offered him a piece of candy and smiled broadly. Spencer looked at his phone, expecting to see a message from JJ saying there was a case to attend to, but he found nothing.

"A rematch?" he said, trying his luck, to which you answered yes quite happily.

Spencer won that game and it was inevitable for both of you to wish for another game just for the tiebreaker, with you crowning yourself the winner of the evening. Between movements you took the opportunity to look at him and you would lie when you said that your cheeks didn’t feel hot from being in the presence of such a peculiar specimen. Most of the men around you behaved like cavemen, so being with someone that civilized was most pleasant.

“I have to go home, it's getting dark already,” you said, quite sad, after that third game. The candy had already run out and Spencer's book had been forgotten to the side, but you still didn't want to walk away with just the memory of those hazel eyes “But if you're ever around again, we could play… if you want."

"I'd love to" he replied, sounding quite sincere.

Would it be too daring to ask for his number? What if it had just been a nice time that arose from a coincidence? You didn't want to spoil it, or scare him away, or anything like that.

You only said goodbye saying that you hoped to see him again and he said the same thing before the two of you went off on your own, fearing you would never see each other again.

After a few days you went back to the park hoping to meet him, but you were disappointed to see the empty spot. The process was repeated a couple of times and although you were carrying books to spend the afternoon, the chess board could never be missing from your bag, keeping the hope of finding him again. Time wasn't wasted after all, as you took the opportunity to continue your schoolwork outdoors, but it saddened you to think that you probably wouldn't see Spencer again, going so far as to regret not finding a way to contact him. But whoever perseveres, reaches, and you verified it when one afternoon you finally found him sitting at the same table as the first time.

“Spencer! What a joy to see you here” you greeted him casually, as if you hadn't been going to the park repeatedly just hoping to find him.

The man apologized to you saying that his work had kept him so busy that he hadn't even had time to stop by and when you asked what he did for a living you were met with an ambiguous answer that he held a position in a government office. Not a complete lie, but not the truth either.

That's how you kept finding him around to play with him, until at some point you barely paid attention to the board to give priority to the chat. Every time you saw each other you thought, without the slightest idea of the truth, that Spencer had been practicing to improve, because sometimes out of five games you only won two. But other days you might have a perfect streak that, while it made you feel happy, allowed you to comfort your friend a little.

You had started carrying different snacks to at some point find out which one was his favorite, which turned out to be the trail mix and, truth be told, it was something you expected, as if it fit perfectly with his personality. That's how you started carrying a pack of those whenever you could, alternating it with other kinds of more substantial snacks that Spencer loved.

So it was that, during the nearly two months that Matthew was unable to go to the park, you and Spencer kept each other company. You learned that he was an avid reader that, according to your first impression of him, he had taught a few classes, that he lived alone, loved classical music, was a big fan of science fiction and science in general, in short, he was a bit of a nerd. He was always telling you interesting facts that you couldn't even have imagined and you always listened very carefully.

One day you were concentrating on your next move when his voice interrupted you. It was a very beautiful afternoon and you had decided to put on light clothes that fluttered in the wind.

“I forgot to tell you. I brought you a book” was what he had said and from his brown leather briefcase he extracted a book with a faded cover that he handed over to you with great care.

“Sylvia Plath?” you exclaimed with total emotion. You had talked about the interest you had in starting to read it in one of the last meetings, because considering Spencer a connoisseur of literature, he would probably know which book to start with "Where did you get it?"

"It was from my mother, but she won't mind if you read it"

You carefully caressed the back with your fingertips with the biggest smile on your face, feeling flushed at the obvious show of attention you were receiving.

"Thank you so much"

"It's no big deal"

"I'll give it back to you soon"

"Take the time you need" he exclaimed sweetly. He was wearing a gray knit vest and a black dot-patterned formal shirt, along with a brown tie. His hair framed his face and looked so soft it made you want to reach out and just stroke it. You had been so stunned watching him, wondering if he was a real man or not, until he reminded you that it was your turn.

You moved your queen. Check in 7 moves.

"Spencer, can I confess something to you?"

He moved his bishop. He is saved from check.

"Huh, yeah"

“These last few weeks I have had a lot of fun. I really like being with you”

He looked at you for a second, as if he was waiting for a but that never came. There was no but you just liked being with him. Reid didn't usually find many people who would enjoy his company without a work commitment involved and that you had said something like that made him feel a warmth in his heart that he couldn't describe.

"I just wanted to tell you that, no... I hope I wasn't weird"

"I like being with you, too," he exclaimed immediately, hoping you didn't get the wrong idea. "It's probably the most normal and quiet thing that happens during my week."

“You've never told me what you do at work, is it paperwork and stuff? Bureaucratic processes?

“Something like that” he lied “Most of the time it's stressful and very tiring. That's why I like coming here, with you, because it helps me relax. I used to play with a very dear friend, but I took a break because… I didn't feel like going back to it. But I have to admit that you are a wonderful player."

"I hope so. Because I'm about to beat you” you smiled, moving another piece and putting the game in check again. Spencer always knew that he had to move to win, but again he made enough mistakes to get beaten by you. Once this happened, he took his king and handed it to you with a small smile, allowing your hands to touch.

It was already getting a bit dark and that was the signal for both of you to come home.

"You won 3 out of 4," he informed you, more cheerful than he was supposed to be. "Rematch tomorrow?"

“Of course”

One of you always asked that and in the same way the other always answered yes. Come to think of it, it was pretty funny that when you lost the next afternoon you won and vice versa, allowing the promise of a rematch to always hold.

"Do you live far from here?"

You knew, of course, that there was another question implicit in it. He not only wanted to know how far away your apartment was, but he wanted to know if he could walk you there. You'd never thought of the two of you hanging out outside of your afternoon game sessions, so you told him it was about a fifteen-minute walk away, and he naturally offered to walk you there.

"You're not a serial killer or anything like that, are you?" you joked, although a part of you said it to watch his reaction and detect (if possible) any sign of a lie.

“I'm not, but it's quite right that you doubt me,” he replied, as he packed his things into his briefcase, smiling slightly as if he hadn't been offended but rather admired by a good question “From any man, really, because the largest number of serial killers is concentrated in the United States and 95% of murderers worldwide are… well, men. Possibly this is due to the levels of testosterone and the social implications of masculinity that exist, this isn’t counting the traumas that they may have developed during their lives. Speaking specifically of men with psychopathy, most of them are able to manipulate their chosen victims to gain their trust before harming them. Many murderers have been described as charming, an example of this is Ted Bundy, who even when he was arrested many women attended the trials with banners and self-declared his fans. A few years ago there was even a killer here in Virginia who would date young women and then kill them, because it was easier for him not to resist, but luckily he only took the lives of 3 women before he was caught”

Spencer wasn't even aware of the changes in expressions on your face until he looked at you, completely serious and doe-eyed.

"Should I be worried about the fact that you listed reasons why I shouldn't let you accompany me?"

“Oh no, no” he had probably scared you and it made him feel so sorry and silly “I just… like to read about it, I promise. In addition, I have a degree in psychology, sometimes we analyzed the profile of the murderers to understand their psyche. But if you don't want me to come with you, that's fine."

"I'll take the risk"

"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry"

"You didn’t do it. It just wasn't such a convincing defense” you carefully reached out to grab his arm and encourage him to walk beside you, flashing him a sweet smile.

Spencer, still feeling guilty for having rambled on about psychopaths, walked by your side for a while, and until you started talking his mood improved. A lot of times your talks didn't have to do with anything scientific and focused more on pop culture stuff that Spencer was completely unaware of. But you never teased him, but little by little you started to explain to him the plot of different movies or celebrity gossip of the moment, which was very funny for him. Your vibrant personality had him completely fascinated.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you said once you got to your building. They were nice condos that Spencer had seen before.

"If something unforeseen does not arise, yes"

"Thanks for joining me. And for not being a murderer too” you laughed, still in a joking mood, while he looked at the ground a little embarrassed.

"Your lack of confidence hurts me"

"Admit that it's your fault, Doctor Reid" taking advantage of the artificial height difference that standing a few steps higher than him gave you, you leaned over to hug him goodbye and he sighed deeply as he felt the softness of your body against his "I hope you're well. Rest"

"Bye," he breathed out softly, entranced by the sight of your kind eyes looking directly at him.

He went home wishing with all his might that the job in the unit would allow him to meet you, but unfortunately it didn't, and since the two of you still hadn't thought of exchanging numbers he didn't find a way to apologize to you. He went to the park for several days in a row, but he couldn't find you anywhere and he was afraid that you wouldn't want to see him again. Had he done something wrong? Had you really believed that he could be a criminal? He probably explained to you what FBI unit he worked for and all that weird stuff he was telling you would have started to make sense.

He had already given up hope just the day you were practically running to the park, your chessboard bouncing through your bag and your breathing heavy as a sign of your poor physical condition.

You expected him to be there even with your repeated absences and when you finally arrived you noticed that around your usual table was a small group of people. You didn't know what it could be so you decided to go look too and you were surprised to discover Matty, whom it was the first time you'd seen in months, playing with nothing more and nothing less than your game partner. 

You knew Matty enjoyed playing fast chess, so a clock was sitting next to both of them, and Spencer seemed to be playing better than he ever had in his life. His eyes lasted a second to scan the positions of the pieces and another to move his own, without needing to make any effort to plan the right move.

Everyone around was impressed by the skill of the teenager and the man who, according to your deductions, had not played more than 15f minutes. After a couple more minutes Spencer smiled broadly and declared that the younger one was checkmated, drawing Matthew's complaint and collective applause for the feat.

"The boy is good, but not as good as him" an old man informed you, who apparently knew the development of these games very well.

Spencer enjoyed the cheers rather modestly for a moment, but when he caught sight of you watching him from the crowd he went completely pale.

"Hello," he hurried to greet you, getting up from his seat to approach you and causing the fan group to break up "You came."

"Yeah, I've been kind of busy with college," you sincerely apologized, letting him envelop you in a hug that took you by surprise.

"I'm glad to see you"

"But what was all that about, by the way?"

"What was what?"

"Y/N!" said Matty, rushing over to greet you. "Do you guys know each other?"

"Yeah, I would say that" you clearly noticed the young man's intention to ask the story of that, but as soon as he opened his mouth you said something else: "But will you allow me to talk to him for a second? It's adult talk," you joked, trying to tease your little friend, and then walked a few steps away, taking Spencer with you. "Do you want to explain to me how you became a chess master during my three-day absence?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about"

"I saw that! You beat him so fast and Matt is very good. Have you been letting me win all this time?” you asked with a frown. You didn't sound annoyed with him, but rather surprised, and when he pursed his lips and looked at you with those sad little eyes, you knew you were right “You were lying to me! Why did you do that?”

"I didn’t want to make you feel bad"

“I'm an adult, I can handle failure” you argued. A lie, but he didn't have to know that.

“It's just that you… you looked so happy winning and I was happy to spend time with you and I figured if I played like that you'd start to get bored or think I'm a show-off. You didn't want to make a bad impression."

He had been cheating on you, yes, but now that he had explained his reasons, you thought they were really cute. Although you didn't like being treated with that kind of condescension, it would honestly have been foolish to bother you about something like that. They were just friendly games of chess, not a world championship.

"So all this time you were this clever?" you asked and he nodded sheepishly “And you still managed to lose?”

“It's easy once you get the hang of it. If you know all the possible outcomes then you also know where you shouldn't move your pieces."

"I must have looked so stupid all this time"

"No, it's not like that" he hastened to say, while one of his hands went up to your elbow and gently held it "I didn't behave like that because I think you're stupid. I think you're very smart, actually."

"So you were just pretending so we could see each other in the evenings?"

No one had ever done that for you and now you weren't even offended by it anymore, you were, how shall I put it? Touched, perhaps.

"I thought if we didn't play chess there would be no other excuse for it"

A giggle escaped your lips and although at first he thought you were mocking, the truth was the opposite.

 “You don't need to do that for us to be together, I could come to the park and just talk to you. I already told you, I like being with you” you clarified.

You two were silent for a moment and although you were calm Spencer was fiddling with his hands, apparently uncomfortable.

"There's also something else I didn't tell you" you widened your eyes slightly, waiting for him to continue "Actually, I do work for the government, but I work for the FBI in the behavioral analysis unit, that's why sometimes I disappear for so many days or…"

"That's why you know so much murder data" you hastened to say. Suddenly everything clicked together, like pieces in a puzzle "You're not a murderer, you catch murderers!”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to scare you."

"Oh, and it was more convenient to let me think you're a psycho," you said sarcastically and only received another amused and sorry look "Any other secrets you want to share with me, Agent Reid?"

“At the moment I only have that. But the afternoon is young, more things can come up with the passing of the hours”

You both laughed at the joke and Matthew's voice calling you snapped you out of your conversation. The teen demanded an explanation as to why his playmate and former babysitter seemed so trusting of each other, which Spencer probably hadn't explained to him yet.

"I just want to ask you one thing"

"And what is?"

“Play a real game with me. No cheating, no tricks"

"Rematch?" he said, as was already your tradition, and you smiled widely.

You walked back to the table taking his arm and after summarizing a few months of history to Matthew the two of you finally got to play. Spencer beat you in less than 5 minutes, but the satisfaction you felt finding out that he was so smart, as well as handsome, was completely worth your loss.

You only managed to beat him after half a year, because from that moment on Spencer was so distracted by your face that it was hard for him to concentrate on the plays. And when you became his girlfriend, all you had to do was steal a few kisses from him to ensure your victory, which, honestly, didn't bother him in the least.

[cybiirz]

ೃ⁀➷ INFIRMARY

Wriothesley x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : After the entire incident involving the Fortress, Neuvillette, Chlorinde, Wriothesley etc, it seems you had lost track of time of which to spend with someone. Turns out, he missed you just as much. But maybe next time, find a more private area for such matters?

WC : 784

Warnings : Slightly suggestive at the end I think?

“Sigewinne, would you mind taking a trip to retrieve a package? It’s a box of bandaids since we’re low on supply so I’ve ordered some from the Court along with some more equipment. Bertin’s house should have the supplies,” You informed the young nurse as she listened intently.

After a nod and getting the list of the exact things needed, Sigewinne bid goodbye to you, leaving the infirmary in your care. Once she had left, you let out a deep sigh and stood up from the stool, heading over to a pin board hidden away in the corner of the room. You brought out your notebook and scribbled down a theory before pinning next to your other theories you had come up with.

Right now, you were lost in your thoughts as you went over the notes, eyebrows furrowed. But you were quickly brought back to reality once you felt a pair of bulky arms wrap around your waist, bringing you backwards which caused you to yelp slightly.

“Wriothesley, a warning would be nice before you decide to attempt to kidnap me,” You said to the warden, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You could already have tell it was him with the way he held you. He let out a laugh but continued to hold you.

“I just wanted to surprise my favourite nurse. Can a man not go around showing his love for his own little caretaker,” Wriothesley responded, breath close to your ear. You lifted up your arm and pushed his head away before you released yourself from him.

“You’re a strange man, I must say. And anyway, I highly doubt you should go around hugging random people and labelling them as your favourite. You may kill some with that sentence alone,” You informed him, hinting at his charm that many others knew about. Well, it’s between his charm or people wanting more coupons but either way works.

“Yeah yeah. I saw Sigewinne heading off, presumably to get some supplies. So that just leaves me and you which is rare in itself,” The warden was implying that the two of you had barely gotten some alone time ever since the whole primordial sea water incident.

But you chose to just hum in agreement as you tidied up the desktop sitting against the wall. You heard him approaching you before you felt him rest his chin on top of your head.

“I miss you (name). You haven’t even visited for almost 2 weeks now,” He complained next to your ear, his voice almost sounding whiny. The thing is, the pair of you weren’t necessarily exclusive. This visitation thing was solely known by only you and him. You sighed before responding.

“I know, it’s just that there are so many patients that injured themselves escaping from the whole primordial see water situation so there’s a lot to take care of. I wish we could see each other again, truly, but there’s so much for me to take care of that I've sort of fallen off track,” Your voice was becoming slightly hoarse as you rubbed your temple, the stress beginning to get to you a bit.

Wriothesley lifted his hands and began massaging your shoulders. “It’s alright I understand (name). Honestly, I’ve been busy too, I’ve just missed seeing you frequently. That’s all,” He said in a low tone.

“I get it,” You replied. You then removed his hands off of you before turning around resting on the table top and looking up at him. “Tell you what, we both free up our schedules and have a day dedicated to just us. Sounds fair?” The question tumbled out as you raised your eyebrow.

He gave you a soft smile before gently placing his lips onto yours. The two of you stayed connected that way for a few seconds before he parted for air, his breath still grazing against your lips. “Sounds good to me.”

“Before you go,” You began to add before bringing him closer again and reconnecting with each other. His hands grazed your waist as yours reached up to wrap around his neck, the passion evident between the two of you.

“(Name), I forgot my notebook and I need to take down some—oh…” The high pitched voice rang through your ears as you quickly turned your head to see Sigewinne standing there, still. Her head was cocked slightly as she brought a finger to her chin. “I always suspected it…” She mumbled.

Your face instantly turned red as you buried your face in Wriothesley’s neck to hide the obvious embarrassment. The warden simply chuckled as he stroked your back and held your head before mouthing an apology to Sigewinne on your behalf.

Maybe next time the infirmary should be a place to not show your not-so-secretive love for one another.

A/N : Loving these mini drabbles tbh. Writing them is so easy and not as time consuming, I think i’ll be writing a ton of them when I go visit my family tomorrow since the trip there is long. Feel free to leave any characters + their situations in my ask box!

[gomu-fer]

Love recipe

Sanji x gardener!reader

fluff!!!!!!!! Stablished relationship, gn reader, from my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone, I recommend this

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: In which you find Sanji’s cook notebook

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

An endless sea of boxes filled your room in the Sunny, when had you accumulated so much stuff in your time with the strawhats? You didn’t know

You were the kind to keep everything, even the tiniest things held so much memories and meaning that you just couldn’t leave them behind

But you were starting to regret it

A week ago you and Sanji had finally decided to tell the crew that you were dating

After being met with all of your crewmates groans of defeat as they handed a couple berries to Nami you realized maybe you were a little more obvious than you thought

Regardless they were happy and a little relieved that you two had finally settled down

“So is the dumb cook finally moving out? We are tired of you leaving every night to our quarters,” Zoro was quick to ask you looking dead in your bashful eyes, red blush rushing to your face

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Sanji screamed at the swordsman in your defense

As much as you tried to brush the matter off or deny the accusations everyone had witnessed how at very ungodly hours of the night you’d slip into Sanjis bed to sleep soundly and turning back to your own at sunrise thinking no one noticed

“OR you can move in with us!” Your Captain chimed in but his idea was immediately shot down by your boyfriend

So he moved in your room, something you were happy about but right now, as you choose what to keep, throw away or store in boxes to make space for Sanji, was giving you a huge headache.

You sat cross legged in the middle of your floor between boxes looking like cat in hiding as Sanji walked in with a couple of more boxes in hand, settling them on the ground glancing at your form and smiling in endearment

“Almost done my love” he spoke up making you bend backwards and smiling at him

“Let me get up and help you with the rest”

“Absolutely not” something about you even lifting a finger in his presence always made him shiver, there was no way he was gonna allow you carry his heavy boxes, he knew you were capable, he just didn’t wanted you to

It was the third time you had offered to help him so you just gave up and giggled before returning to your task as the blonde went back to make yet another trip from the boys quarters to your room

You let out a defeated sigh as you finally finished up choosing everything that you decided to get rid off. As you got up with the box you tripped over the others that surrounded you making you lose balance, in an attempt to save yourself from a nasty fall, one of Sanjis boxes opened and some of his belongings scattered across the floor

“Dammit” carefully you place your box aside as you hastily take your boyfriend’s personal stuff and return them into the box, not wanting Sanji to think you were snooping round his personal belongings

As you delicately put his box aside, a notebook lays on the ground that you seemed to have missed to put away, you take it but instead of storing it, your hands explore the markings on the cover

‘Sanjis cookbook’ it read in his neat handwriting, you smile to yourself before slowly opening it, the notebook was well loved and you didn’t wanted it to break apart at your touch. The pages were filled with different recipes the cook had came up with during the years, it was sweet how noticeable was the change in his notes when he joined the strawhats, suddenly more intricate and lively dishes appearing on its pages. It was obvious how much he enjoyed being the crews cook, this was a trait of him you always had loved and admired. The cook had created dishes, drinks and pastries inspired by every crew member, some just being fun experimental ones, while others attended to their nutritional needs

Some really tasty meat recipes made for Luffy

An orangy strong drink for Nami

Boring rice-balls with a hint of sake for Zoro

Coffee infused pastries for Robin

Chicken a lá Soda for Franky

Taroyaki for Usopp

Sweet cotton candy for Chopper

Curry for Brook

Some of them with your name on it eventually show up but were all about either your diet or changing some ingredients up in meals you didn’t quite like or would upset your stomach, even your favorite vegetable soup was in there with a marking on it with your name. Expectancy bubbled in your stomach as you waited for dishes made not for you, but inspired by you to appear, but as you kept on reading the pages of everyone’s meals except yours a frown plastered on your lips

“Oh” you thought, maybe you weren’t good enough to be Sanji’s muse. Of course you knew he loved you endlessly, he would assure you everyday and you’ll see it in different ways he had to tell you ‘I love you’ without even speaking it.

The way he would patiently show you how to cut ingredients in the kitchen so you could help him and spend quality time, or the names he’d call you that sweetened your days, how he would always be on your call and foot for whatever you wished or needed, the dreamy look you’d spark on his eyes and even just the full on attention he’d offer you, as if you were the only thing in the world

But still, one would think you’ll at least have one dish dedicated to you after all the love he exuded in your presence

As you gave up and started to close the notebook, you saw a page near the end with your name on it, making your eyes grow wide in joy. You open it to find not a dish, but a whole different section of the notebook just for you, the cook had even drawn tiny hearts after your name

Pink dusted your face and a bright smile grew on your lips as you admired the dishes Sanji had crafted with such love and dedication, recognizing some of them and even remembering how he had asked you to taste test them in the past. You were moved, over the moon wasn’t enough of an expression to understand how you were feeling, no one had ever shown this much appreciation for you, small tears peaked at the corner of your eyes of the fullness you felt. How could you ever return such a gesture? Such love declaration that you didn’t even were supposed to know about?

You return the notebook to its rightful place before standing back on your feet and taking your box towards the door that slowly opened revealing your tall blonde handsome of a boyfriend with the last box

“Sorry it took so long sunlight, Luffy asked me for another snack and I ha-“ he was cut off by the biggest warmest hug he had ever received in his life, dropping the box as your hands found a spot on his neck and your lips pecked his before hiding your face in his neck, your feet tip toeing so you could reach

The action took Sanji by surprise, making him blush and stand frozen in place at your sudden affection that he still found difficult to come around, always being used to be the more affectionate one until you showed up and made him know how much loved he deserved back

“Is everything alright my love?”

“Yes darling, everything’s amazing”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Omg they’re back I’m so happy!!!! Hope you enjoy and remember you can request anything you wanna see about these two or just anything One Piece related technically

[promitto-amor]

Should Something Happen

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You

Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.

Warnings: Cursing!

Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. 👀

Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass. 

“Careful,” Mark finds himself saying, “It’s not intended to spill your blood.”

You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench you’ve commandeered as a desk, “There’s so many traps,” You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, “Who is this one for again?”

“I try not to make a habit of remembering names.” Mark answers, “Once you name something you get attached.”

You nod, “You’re right.” You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. “Sadly I don’t have that luxury.” Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. “How can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mark says. “I’ve never been one for words.”

You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. “You have special uses.” You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

You send him a small smile, “Brawn, muscle, inside info…” 

“Is that all I am?” Mark can’t help the flicker of irritation he feels, “A meathead?”

“No,” You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. “You…” A couple teeth sink into your lip, “You’re the only one whose behaving.” 

Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, “Go on.”

You turn cagey, “Ever since Mexico…”

“Ah,” Mark nods, “Say no more.”

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing.” You admit, “The aim of all this was never revenge.”

“Was it not?” Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, “Was that not why you got mixed up in all this?”

You fix him with eyes of steel, “Maybe…” You admit, “But not anymore. Seems we’re cut from the same cloth, Detective.”

Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“Maybe we should work on that?”

Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer you’re back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, “Admiring my work?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I thought John made this one?” You pipe up, before Mark can.

“He did.” Mark confirms, “That’s why this one has some refinement.”

“But it was my idea to add the…” Amanda’s points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.

You busy yourself with the boxes again, “There’s nothing but syringes.” You take out one to show the two apprentices.

Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, “Put them on, they probably aren’t clean.”

You make a face and drop the syringe you’re holding, “Great. I’m going to need a check-up after this.”

“Be thankful you’re not the poor bastard diving in there.” Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. “Is this one done yet?”

“Just needs a couple tests,” Mark says. “Any volunteers?”

“You first.” Amanda holds her arms up as if she’s a presenter, “Get in there, Detective.”

“What about you, babe?” Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “The glass isn’t in yet, it’ll be like taking a good nap.”

“Stop trying to scare her.” Mark’s voice comes out with more bite than he expected. 

Amanda’s eyes flash, “Why you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?”

Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but he’s made a mistake and Amanda knows it. “We’re not testing anything without John here.”

Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.

“If John approves it, I’ll test it.” You offer, “I trust him.” Amanda jumps back into performance mode, “Aren’t they precious?”

“If you put this on.” You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amanda’s back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesn’t move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, “Very funny.” She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.

“I thought so.” You counter, placing the device on the workbench.

Amanda’s scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, “Why is that here?” “Inventory.” You supply, “Or so I’m guessing.”

“Something old can always be re-used.” John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. “Is Laura’s test finished?”

“Almost,” Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.

“Laura,” You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember.”

John appears amused at your choice of words, “Writer’s block?” You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesn’t like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Mark’s toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in John’s line of sight. Mark thinks it’s pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent she’s become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.

“There’s one glaring issue I see with this entire game,” You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, “Won’t they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?”

“What did you say?”

“Amanda,” John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.

“I just worry that something will happen.” You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. “Are you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?”

“He doesn’t have a trap either.” Amanda points out, “I’m not the only one.”

“He isn’t being tested.” John states simply, “That is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.” He turns back to you, “Nor is Amanda being tested.”

‘I still think we should put something in there.” You hold up your hands, “I think it’s foolish to leave it to chance.”

“Not if you can predict the outcome.”

Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. “I’m done for the night.”

“Thank you, Mark.” John says, “The game begins tomorrow. I presume you’ll be in position?”

“On the monitors.” He nods.

He’s been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he can’t quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesn’t like how Amanda won’t leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.

“You want to put me in that.”

You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, “What?” You ask.

Amanda nods, “That.” She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, “You want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?”

John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. “Do you know how stupid you sound?” Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. “Everyone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.” You’re still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey. 

“It’s not a bad idea,” You taunt, “Some poetic justice”, but Amanda doesn’t find it clever. 

She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, “You don’t deserve to be here.” She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, “Of all the people to win, it had to be you didn’t it?” “Fair and square.” You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.

“Use your brain,” You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. “You’d have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I don’t think either of those are going to work in this game.”

“How about you wake up in it, you bitch?”

Mark’s hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Mark’s chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.

“Amanda, take the trap and put it in my office.” John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but John’s face is expressionless. “Now.”

She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.

Mark slides you back onto your stool, “Thank you.” You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.

“Are you alright?” John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call. 

“She’s out of line, John.” Mark says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened over there, but it’s messed with her.”

“Amanda will be fine.” John insists, “She will play her part, so long as she isn’t provoked.” You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. “Now Detective, I believe we’re finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.”

Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment he’s gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Mark’s never been good at consoling anyone. It’s just not what he does. Not since Angelina…

He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, “Need a ride home?” “I don’t think I want to go home.” You say, your voice weak.

“You don’t want to stay here.” Mark says, “You can’t anyway. They all…arrive tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?” You lift up your head, “How can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?” Mark meets your eyes, “I convince myself they deserve to suffer.”

“You don’t lie awake thinking about it?”

“No,” He’s being honest. “I think it’s one less shitty person out there.”

“Then you must think that about me.” You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not…you know what I did-“

“And you know what I did.” Mark takes you by your forearms, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, “Sometimes.” Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isn’t what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then you’re pressing your forehead into his chest, “But you make me feel safe. You help me.”

He didn’t expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.

It feels good to be wanted.

With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesn’t know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. “We can look out for each other.” He proposes, “Should something happen.”

“I’d like that.”

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 2 - Painland Week

Day 2 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

Prompt: Myths / Legends

Tags:  Post-canon, Case-fic

TW: None

Edwin stopped writing mid-word - which, in hindsight, should have been the first evidence that something was wrong, if Charles hadn’t been distracted - and he asked:

“Sorry, wait a tick, you said you are trying to retrieve a lost sword from a lake, and the sword’s name is?” 

“Excalibur, yes,” finished the client.

Edwin tapped the pen over his notebook twice, not even pretending to go back to taking notes - second evidence - and threw the universal ‘closet, now’ look at Charles. For his part, Charles had been listening to the conversation like it was something happening inside a bubble, or on the television, something he wasn’t a part of. His brain had been stuck on a very different train of thought ever since the client entered their office, because the first thing Charles’ mind supplied him with was ‘wow, he’s hot,’ immediately followed by ‘uh, that’s new, since when do I find random boys hot’ and ‘wait, does that mean I can finally be not straight and return Edwin’s feelings?’ - all in all, very confusing thoughts to have in the middle of a potential case.

He did follow Edwin to the closet, though, because it was muscle memory to follow Edwin anywhere without question.

“So what do you think?” Edwin asked, “a curse?”

“It could be, if the missing sword is cursed that would explain why he can’t find it in the lake,” Charles replied, trying to cut through the haze enough to form a sensible thought.

Edwin raised his eyebrows in confusion. It was unusual for them to not be on the same wavelength, they rarely needed to explain themselves further during conversations on almost any topic. It made Charles feel like he had failed some kind of test. “Mr. Rowland, the reading assignments are mandatory to every student.”

“What are you talking about, Charles? There is no sword.”

‘What?’ Charles didn’t say, not eager to repeat the experience. 

Edwin apparently could see right through his desperation, because he sighed with that ever-present hint of fondness and explained:

“This man thinks he is Arthur Pendragon, the once and future King of Britain, on a quest to find his missing sword Excalibur. There is absolutely no way that it is true, hence the hypothesis that he might be cursed. It is not unheard of for ghosts to develop mental illnesses, but it usually involves more rage and screaming, thinking you are the long lost King of Britain seems too specific for that.”

Taking a breath he didn’t really need, Charles focused back to the present to catch up with Edwin’s reasoning. “I think we should play along, if he has been cursed, there has to be a reason, maybe he will lead us to the artefact, or the person who cast the spell on him.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Charles,” Edwin agreed with a smile, more to tell him that they were back on the same track than anything. It sent that shiver up his spine that happened every time Edwin looked proud of him.

“We have decided to take your case, sir Pendragon,” Edwin declared as they returned to the office.

“Thank you, my kind subjects,” Arthur replied, and Charles, who was now in control of his mental faculties, had to fight to suppress a snort. He pushed all the ‘men are hot’ thoughts in one of those carefully locked boxes he had started collecting after Port Townsend to consider at a later date, or maybe never.

--

The hike to the lake where the magic sword was supposed to be was incredibly nice.

“We should do this more often, mate. I mean, mirror travel is cool and all, but look at the view!” He pointed to the mountains in the distance, the clear sky, and he felt excited like that one time he went camping with his friends when he was fifteen - before those same “friends” ended up murdering him.

Edwin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That is a good idea, perhaps we could take a small vacation after this case is closed.”

It was nice to see Edwin like that, more open, more relaxed. Not having to fear Death separating them, or Hell coming back to take him had done wonders in improving his well-being, which made a lot of sense if Charles was honest. Now that he had seen Hell himself, he had no idea how Edwin had kept it together as well as he did for over thirty years after he escaped.

“I will have you two executed if you do not find my sword right now,” the client declared.

Charles was quick to bow, not trusting Edwin’s bedside manners enough. “We are sorry, sire, we promise we are doing everything we can.”

--

They looked everywhere on the lake and around it, Edwin even tried different spells to reveal hidden magic, but they found nothing. 

“There must be something we are missing, he does not have the object binding the curse on his person, and I can’t find anything of worth in this place,” Edwin said, moving a bit further from where Arthur was looking longingly at the middle of the lake.

“You know that sentence you wanted to write on the wall of the office? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’, maybe he really is what he says.”

Edwin looked a very balanced mix between flustered and impressed. “While I appreciate you remembering my favourite quote, I think if King Arthur existed, we would have heard about it before.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Charles conceded.

While they were going over their notes again, trying to notice something they might have overlooked, or a different spell they could use, an eerie figure appeared next to their client. It was a very pale man, all dressed in black.

The next moment, they were sprinting towards him at full speed.

“Who are you?” asked Edwin, while Charles retrieved his brand new cricket bat from the pocket universe he carried in his backpack.

The man, or being, or whatever he was, smirked, which was an odder sight than if he had manifested eyes all over his body, or a flaming wall behind him. “You must be the ghost detectives my sister is so fond of.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am Dream of the Endless, I apologise for the inconvenience my escapee might have caused you,” he continued, ignoring Edwin’s disbelief.

“Dream of the Endless,” Charles repeated under his breath, trying to make sense of the words. “So your sister, who is fond of us is…”

“Death,” he said, matter-of-factly. “She wishes you would stay and say hi, sometimes. For now, I thank you for your service.”

He turned to keep talking to Arthur then, and after a while the two of them disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, leaving Charles and Edwin to gape at the empty space where they had been. 

“Well that was an experience,” said Charles. “So he was, what? A dream?”

“What a thought, to stop and say hi to Death,” Edwin exhaled at the same time. He was smiling his relaxed smile again, and Charles found his eyes stuck on the curve of his lips, the hint of tongue and teeth peeking from them.

“So, you fancied the once and future king?” the lips moved to form the words, before going back to that beautiful smile. 

Only when the meaning registered, Charles blinked. “What? No, of course, I-” he started, before remembering that they did promise each other no more lies, “maybe a little. Didn’t you? He looked like, I don’t know, the perfect example of man, the one you would expect to see on an advertisement for the entire species?”

Edwin pursed his lips, in that expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “I can admit that he was objectively good looking, but, you know, blond hair and blue eyes is not really my type.”

He said it in his prim tone, the same way he would say ‘pass me that green book on supernatural diseases’, but there was no mistaking the flirtatious glint in his eyes.

Charles stopped. For a moment, it almost seemed like Edwin knew something that he didn’t even fully know himself, something carefully hidden in one of those boxes “to consider at a later date or maybe never” that he had been collecting. But flirting was like a second nature to him, so he couldn’t help but replying:

“Yeah, and what is your type?”

“Let me see,” Edwin said, slowly, carefully, stepping closer with every word. “Tall, athletic, big dark eyes, unruly hair,” he was right in front of him now, “likes to throw himself into danger to protect others, what else? Insanely clever and perceptive. Shall I continue?”

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes were fixed on the small space between them. “I think I should tell you something.”

If it was on anyone else, the fake surprised expression would have fooled him, but he knew Edwin’s eyes and smiles better than his own. He had to struggle to remain serious, even if he appreciated it for what it was: a way to give him the time to set the pace of the conversation and to take the lead.

“I have never allowed myself to think about it before, you know, with my dad being the way he was, but lately I have been noticing that I am attracted to guys as well. At first it was only one specific guy, but-” he stopped, cringing at the way it sounded, “What I mean is, I didn’t say anything because it was something too important, I had to be sure, and it’s easier to admit you can like someone when you have nothing to lose from it.”

The flirty smile turned into a soft one as Edwin said:

“You have every right to take your time and experiment, you don’t have to say anything, I apologise if-”

Charles stopped him very effectively by cupping his face with his hands. “I don’t want to experiment with anyone else, I think I’ve locked up these feelings for long enough.”

Edwin’s eyes widened, he looked like every ounce of confidence he had mustered up until then had left his body. “As much as I pride myself in my detective abilities, I need you to please say it out loud at least once. It’s been quite difficult for me to believe it, even when you were not at all subtle.”

“I like you,” Charles said immediately, wanting to erase the insecurity from his face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your confession and what it could mean for our future, and I think I am finally ready to take you out on an official date, if you still want that.”

It was Edwin who leaned in first after that, but like it happened many other times, they met in the middle, instantly on the same wavelength again.

Distantly, almost completely hidden behind the all-encompassing sensation of Edwin holding him and their lips pressed together, Charles thought about how absurd it was that he had to thank the fucking King of Britain for finally managing to have this conversation. Edwin would tease him for all eternity.

[lovelyinconsistentices]

°˖➴ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ⋆· ༘ *

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 .ᐟ

What it's like to date Young Neil, so basically dating headcannons for what I think it would be like dating him!

✎ᝰ.┆𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙴 .ᐟ

Headcannons, fluff.

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 .ᐟ

Young Neil X Gender-neutral reader.

✎ᝰ.┆𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾 .ᐟ

i won't run by Keanu Bicol.

⸙ I feel like the first thing to start with is that Young Neil would definitely like someone who would listen to his rambling, questions he has or even theories. He definitely talks a lot during dates, having unusual or fun facts that might not even be factually correct. It's part of his charm really.

⸙ For dates he is the type to choose more simpler things for when he plans them, he's not one for extravagant things but he doesn't dislike it either. After all the only important thing is being with you, he doesn't care what kinda date it is as long as he gets to spend his time with you. It could be something as simple as hanging out in his room, chatting and relaxing together while he plays video games.

Or maybe the two of you playing something together, I'm sure he'd even enjoy board games. When it comes to planning dates he's definitely still thoughtful about such, he just keeps it simple but sweet. Stuff like theatre dates, picnics, going to the arcade, eating out or even just relaxing at home would be main things I could see with him.

⸙ While it may not seem like he's paying attention at times or is lost in his thoughts, I feel like he keep notes of things when he is listening to you talk or stuff he see's when it comes to you. He probably writes stuff down in his notebook or keeps it on little sticky notes after spending time with you, something like favorite foods, games, or places.

⸙ Speaking of Sticky notes I feel like this fits him the most, you and him definitely use sticky notes as like a love language sorta thing. He probably keeps all the one's he gets in a little box or something, one of his most prized possession. Sticky notes from him usually contain random or cute doodles, unusual questions and fun facts or things he learned that he wanted to share, and lastly random pick up lines he saw on the Internet. They're probably really cheesy and he definitely writes little notes under the pick up line about how they make no sense.

⸙ He loves kisses most definitely, especially when they catch him off guard. He could be accidentally rambling after being asked a question and you'd then lean in to peck him on the lips, startling him at first before his expression changed into one of awe. He also really loves more subtle or small kisses as well, specifically ones against his knuckles. Examples being you taking ahold of his hand and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing short kisses against them. I just feel like that's so cute and he'd find it really adoring!

⸙ If you're one to use face masks, paint your nails, wear make up or things of the sort. He'd definitely let you do such things for him, main reasons being because he's curious about certain things, finds it cute and lastly it means he gets to spend more time with you doing something that makes you happy. So basically doing facemasks together, him letting you paint his nails or his make-up. I also feel like he'd be interested in learning certain things to help you sometimes, especially when it comes to your hair. Like what products you use, how you do your hair, and other things of the sort so maybe he could help you take care of your hair when staying the night.

⸙ This is just like the last headcannon, but with hobbies and stuff you like. I could see Young Neil dabbling into things you like so you guys can hangout doing stuff that you love or enjoy since you definitely have dates where you hangout with Neil doing things he loves, like playing video games or watching his favorite movies! He'd most likely try to learn fun facts or things about stuff you love, like for favorite bands, artists, sports or anything of the sort. Then he'd share them with you when you're spending your time together, I feel like something like that is really thoughtful.

⸙ If you were to move in with Young Neil and get a pet together, he'd most definitely get some type of reptile. I feel like a bearded dragon but I also think he'd really like snakes, he'd take one look at a breed of snake then point at it and say "I want that one." Most definitely has a lot of knowledge on reptiles that he shares with you at the shop so expect a lot of little fun facts, if you have a fear of snakes he opts for something else like the bearded dragon. You also would most likely get another pet, some type of favorite animal of yours or if you already have a pet then you're welcoming another one now of Neil's choice.

⸙ Matching bracelets, specifically ones the both of you made for eachother. He's always wearing the one you made for him, if it's very colorful, bright, or pastel it definitely sticks out in contrast to his clothing. Whenever he see's that your wearing the one he made for you, he gets all happy. Smiling as he takes a hold of your hand that contains the bracelet and just squeezes it, keeping it subtle.

⸙ This man absolutely loves dinosaurs, robots, space and aliens, or overall anything that's sci-fi. A big chemistry lover as well, a lot of his notes on the sticky pads most definitely contain something of the sort. Cute little doodles of dinosaurs with a fact he wants to tell you, as well as something sweet but still pretty subtle.

⸙ TV dates, I feel like they would be so fun with him. He definitely picks out stuff like the Jurassic park films, back to the future, or Star Trek. OH OMG ALSO E.T. He likes stuff that are kinda old but good, during watching movies or things of the sort he'd state little facts or things he knows. Maybe comment on his favorite scenes or question certain stuff, sometimes earning him a shh. But if it were me I'd tell him what I thought of what he said after shushing him, I feel like something like that would make him love you more or make the night even better for him.

⸙ He definitely points you out whenever you're hanging out with friends and stuff, something like "There's/That's my (Girlfriend, boyfriend, lover!)" While pointing at you when you arrive or when he's talking about you with someone new or who may not know you.

⸙ Makes playlists for the two of you, so you both having something to listen to together or whenever you're busy and not with each other. Speaking of that I feel like he'd get a camera just to take videos of you, of course at first he's not very good at it but slowly he gets better with time. Keeping all of them on tape as memories and things he loves about you.

⸙ Absolutely would love to share his clothes with you, or no more specifically wants to share them with you. Seeing you in his puffy jacket, one of his shirts or an article of clothing that's his, is everything to him as he finds it adorable and remembers that your his significant other making him feel lucky. He probably blurts out questions, asking you what made you decide to date him or things of the sort. Which earns him a chuckle and some comment of reassurance that's sweet, or playful which I'm sure would give him a little confidence boost or just make him quite happy. Probably responds with "Oh, yeah." And then there's the widest smile on his face.

⸙ When talking about you with friends he will ramble about your favorite things, what he loves about you, and how cute or awesome he thinks you are. Most definitely has earned a "Shut up." from Kim because she's heard him say the same things on repeat from listening to him talk about you whenever you're brought up or he gets a chance to. She'll maybe make a comment about how smitten he is or how she gets he's in love with you after, rolling her eyes but giving a small smile.

⸙ Has a whole drawer full of things you left, he thinks you'd enjoy or stuff he got for you for when you stay over. If you have long hair and use hair ties that often get lost, I could see him wearing them or hanging them from something. For when he wears them, you could probably see him rearranging them on his wrists and moving them to avoid it leaving marks or digging more into his skin. Sometimes he'll ask you if you need a hair tie and then pulls one you had lost off his wrist.

⸙ I'll end it with cuddling and hugs, his favorite position and how he likes to hug you. I feel like when cuddling he likes to wrap his arms around you from the back, or he likes laying against you with you running your fingers through his hair, or omg having his head in your lap as he plays on his DS. As for hugs, he most likely wraps his arms around your waist and places his head on yours if you're shorter than him. If you're taller then he may press his head against yours if he can, or buries his face in the crook of your neck while hugging you tight. His hugs are definitely pretty long as well, him savoring the moment basically.

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hiiii! I loved ur Hermes kid!

Could I ask for a male son of Dionysus x either Leo or nico?

Sorry if I got ya wrong and don’t feel pressured or anything!

Have a lovely day!

When there isn't a lot of info in an ask I kinda have to make the reader a personality so that it isn't too bland too read so sorry to y'all that aren't like this <3

Redecoration---Nico di Angelo x Son of Dionysus

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico had been glaring at the roof of skulls for a solid ten minutes, sort of hoping the hatred in his eyes would just poof them out of existence, when someone finally showed up. 

Apparently after an incident in the Aphrodite cabin, people weren’t allowed to just grab a bucket of paint and some new furniture to fuck around and find out, which was why Nico had been sent someone to help him fix the mess that was the Hades cabin.

Apart from the hundred skulls hot glue gunned to the rood, the beds were wooden coffins, the lamps were ancient looking chandeliers, and all of the walls were a dark ugly gray, like there was a serious mold problem. Now that he thought about it, the color might actually be a mold problem. 

“Never fear, goth! For I am here!” 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Nico took a deep breath and turned around, obsidian eyes already narrowed with dislike as he took in the taller boy trotting over. He was holding a crate in his arms, filled with color swatches and chunks of fabrics, magazines sticking out of the top. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who needs redecorating, right?” The boy asked, already letting himself into the dim cabin that smelt of rich dark chocolate for some reason. “Yeah… no offense but we have to fix this, even if you're the wrong person.” 

Nico felt a sudden need to defend the atrocious carpet and bat shaped door knocker from this boy, who was wearing a maroon shirt picturing a glass of wine. “I was eight.” 

“No shame here, everyone makes bad decisions.”

There didn’t seem to be any point arguing with this boy, who had already dumped the box of supplies on one of the coffin bed lids, and was staring around at the dark cabin, hands on his hips. 

Nico just followed him inside, shoving his hands into the slightly ripped pockets of his aviator jacket. He peered into the cardboard box, which was promptly tipped out onto the ground. He watched with a frown as the son of Mr D sat on the carpet and began rifling through the empty notebooks and cut up magazines. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, scrapbooking? We can’t just start painting the walls yellow yet, you have to plan this stuff out, goth.” He said, as if it was obvious. Then he smirked. “You don’t like arts and crafts?”

Nico’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t let this mildly infuriating boy with surprisingly cool bracelets upstage him. “I love arts and crafts.”

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and pulled out a leather bound book containing a few stickers and a strip of torn paper where a page had been pulled out. “Are you just gonna stand there in the corner and be grumpy?... That wasn’t sarcasm, you can if you want, I was just checking.”

Nico wasn’t an asshole, of course he was going to help. Still, he had to glare at the boy for that comment. Then he sat down and opened one of the magazines, which was featuring a life sized Barbie Dream House bed frame, fluffy pillows included. He flicked the page over with a grimace.

“So, what kinda vibe are we going for?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you're sick of Dracula,” he said, waving his arms at the general doom and gloom around them. “So what aesthetic are we replacing it with?”

Nico didn’t want to admit he hadn’t planned this far into the venture, he’d really just been hoping he could repaint the walls, or maybe burn the whole thing down and start over. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Okay, well… I’m assuming you wanna keep it edgy, but seriously? A roof of skulls? You’re not a caveman. Maybe we should go with an Addams family style.” He shivered. “With less spiderwebs and disembodied hands. “ 

Ah, another gap in his modern education. “What’s an Addams family?” 

All Nico got in return was a gaping mouth and wide eyes. “How do you not- okay, I’m making you watch the entire timeline later, but for now we need to pick a color scheme.” 

Nico opened his mouth.

“Not black.”

Nico closed his mouth.

“Obviously there’ll be lots of black, but you need another color to fit with it, something dark and scary but colorful.” He pulled out a binder of color swatches, and flipped it open, skimming the pages of baby blues and lavenders. “Maybe dark green, or...”

“Red.” Nico said, peering over at the pages of ruby and scarlet. He pointed to the dark one, which had a little title below, ‘Blood red’. It was a little on brand, but it was better than ‘Crimson Tide’. 

“Oooh, nice. If we keep the walls black, and pull up the black carpet, there’ll be floorboards underneath.” He started to ramble, ripping a color swatch out of the binder and gluing it into the leather bound book. He glanced around at the musty cabin. 

“We can get a red rug for the middle of the cabin, and definitely new beds, but if we get Drew to refurbish the chandeliers they’ll look great. Oh, and the coffin bed frames could be a bookshelf if we get the mattress out and ask Nyssa to put some shelves in. Do you read? Because otherwise it’s sort of pointless. But so are the skulls on the roof, so…”

“You’re good at this.” 

It took Nico a moment to realize what he’d just blurted, and when he did the warmth was already in his cheeks. He’d only been a little caught up in watching the son of Dionysus’s eyes sparkle as he talked, pointing to different parts of the cabin, and somehow ruined it. “I mean, you just sound like you’ve, you know, done this a lot.”

The glimmer in their eye didn’t fade, they only grinned harder. “I have. A lot. It’s fun!”

“I suppose so,” Nico said, his lips twitching, and opened another magazine. He skipped a page on clawfoot bathtubs [There was already a white one with gold trim in the bathroom]. There was a large heart shaped mirror, He ignored that too, and found a simple bedframe, painted black. He held it out gingerly. “What about this one?”

“Yes! Good job.” He said, snipping it out of the magazine quickly, and sticking it next to a picture of a glass chandelier. “If you’ve got a simple bed, we could find a zebra print blanket, they always look good with black and red, as long as you don’t have, like, leopard print.”

“I thought you’d like leopard print?”

“And I thought you’d like skulls on your roof and coffin shaped beds,” he teased, with a smug little smile. Nico rolled his eyes, and picked out a strip of dark red fabric, passing it over.

He shook some glitter from his hands, there seemed to be piles of it in the box. “It’s a little over the top, but it’s not as bad as Jason’s cabin. It’s just rock. Everywhere. And a giant statue of his father.”

“Maybe he can be my next client,” he hummed, wiping glue from his fingers onto the molding carpet beneath them. A few shards of rounded glass were taped to the pages of the scrapbook, shining in the light of the dusty stained chandeliers. 

Nico wanted to object. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want the boy in front of him with glitter on his cheekbones and scissors in his hands to be cutting out pictures and teasing someone else. Instead he looked away, feeling something in his chest surge, something like fear. Fear of what, he didn’t know, but he cleared his throat and moved on.

“Don’t you have a sister too?”

The fear surged back forwards and Nico whipped around, his tone sharp. “What?”

“The roman one, I swear I saw her the other day, when Reyna visited to plan something or other.” he said casually, not seeing the pale tinge to Nico’s face. “With the overalls and the bulldog?”

“That’s Frank,” Nico said, his shoulder sinking with relief. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was Hazel, she had those light up sketchers, with the little wheels on the bottom.” He said, somehow with a moon shaped sticker on his nose as he stuck little cut out paper skulls around the four page collage. 

“Frank’s the bulldog, he can turn into animals.” Nico had a strange urge to reach out and press the sticker on his nose, so instead he held his hands tightly in his lap. 

“Well, is there something Hazel’d like in the cabin when she visits? Does she read?” 

Nico sighed, and reached back for the magazine he discarded. He shook it open, cut outs of fluffy teddies falling into his lap. He found the page with the heart shaped bathroom mirror and ripped it out carefully. He could take a few hearts in his cabin if Hazel would like them. “This one.”

“Oh, that one's cute, Nyssa could totally make it.”

“I can ask Leo, he owes me a favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I haven't killed him yet.” 

                                  »»————-　★　————-««

Nico pressed down the front of his shirt. It was a black Camp Halfblood shirt, which he’d gotten from Piper after the Aphrodite cabin had started making shirts in other colors. Apparently there were only so many outfits you could wear with orange. 

Black goes with everything though, so it wasn’t a problem for him. 

He made his bed [closed the lid of the coffin] and dragged the last of the furniture not nailed to the ground out onto the little deck all of the cabins had. His decking only had a few pairs of shoes and a pot of dead roses he’d never bothered to keep alive. Maybe he’d have another go. 

Drew had taken the chandeliers already, to polish them and whatnot, so he only had to wait for his assigned son of Dionysus to show up, and they could start hunting for zebra print blankets and ripping skulls off the ceiling. What fun. 

When he still hadn’t shown up, Nico finished pulling all of the previously made bedding from the coffins and dumping it to the side so that Leo could turn it to a bookshelf [He could read, he just had dyslexia thank you very much], and then set off to the Dionysus cabin. It was easy to find, the only male god on the female side, with trelice’s of ivy decorating the whitewashed walls and a grumpy looking leopard snoozing on the purple swinging chair out the front of the small cabin.

He didn’t really want to knock, but he was sure someone would report him for standing around too menacingly if he just waited. He was saved from indecision when the door opened, revealing a tall sandy haired boy.

“You’re the goth, aren’t you?” Pollux sniffed, his nose red. “We can’t help today, but Butch is free, he can do some heavy lifting, and I’m sure Drew’ll criticize your style if you ask nicely enough.” 

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I mean,” Pollux started, rubbing his eyes, and Nico only then realized he was still wearing his pajamas. They had an elongated cartoon owl sticking out of a doorway on it. “Skulls on the ceiling is a bit much, and everyone think you’re a vamp-”

“I meant with you guys, not my style,” Nico interrupted, his eyes narrowed.”

“Someone, decided to go visit Lou Ellen even though we all know she has a cold, and now I have it-” Pollux was cut off once again, his mockingly loud voice reaching the people inside. 

“I’m sorry I was concerned for my friend, she wanted soup!”

“She always wants soup!” Pollulx yelled back, and Nico moved past the older child of Dionysus, slipping off his shoes and letting himself into the cabin. 

There was nasally muttering behind him and the door slid shut. Nico peered around, and saw a bundle of fluffy blankets on a couch, only a sneezing head poking out the top. “Why did you get sick?”

“I mean it wasn’t really on purpose,” he mumbled back, wiping his nose with a tissue and sinking back into his cocoon. “I can’t help today, but-”

“I don’t care,” Nico started, and plopped down on the white couch, avoiding a deep red stain that could be alcohol or blood. He couldn’t tell. He also didn’t know how to say he’d rather sleep in the coffin again then have to spend the day with someone else. 

He sniffed, falling sideways a little on the couch and squinting at the square tv, which was showing some old cartoon about cavemen. “Mkay, well you should probably go if you don’t wanna get sick.”

Nico thought for a moment, trying not to focus on how much he wanted to scoop up the bundle of blankets in his arms far too skinny for that sort of stuff. “Why don’t we watch ‘an Adam family’?

He got watery wide eyes in return and a toothy grin, “wait really?”

“No. If I was making a joke it’d be funnier than that.”

“Okay, let’s watch it,” he said, hopping off the couch and moving to a box of DVDs with a lot of energy for someone so sick. “And it’s the Addams family, goth. You have to learn the basics of this culture if you’re gonna have coffin bookshelves.”

He fiddled around with the tv and then a grainy black and white intro came on, tinny music over the top. Nico watched as he danced to the theme tune in his blanket burrito, all the way back to the couch, where he landed, coughing and winded. Nico raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve done that, you’re sick.”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he mumbled, tucking the fluffy socks on his feet up onto the white couch and wiggling with excitement. Nico watched him for a moment, and then turned back to the TV, feeling his lips twitch into a grin.

Duh duh duh duh, click click. Duh duh duh duh, click click.

Their creepy and they're kooky-

                                      »»————-　★　————-««

“Neeks, this mirror is so cute!”

“You’re welcome,” Nico muttered, rubbing his nose and rolling over, pulling the zebra print doona cover further over his head. 

He heard Hazel’s wheelie shoes click along the floorboards and she gilded out of the bathroom. When he peered out, her hair was in bunchies and she was pulling a purple hoodie over her head. “It’s so much nicer in here now, but how did you get sick redecorating?”

“Uhm..There was a lot of dust. I might be allergic?” 

The door slammed open, the clear chandelier hanging from the roof shaking as Nyssa trudged in, her work boots leaving mud on the fluffy blood red rug. She was holding the glitter covered scrapbook in her gloved hands. 

“So, I know I’m supposed to make everything in this, but what am I supposed to do with the polaroid of you kissing Mr D ‘s kid?”

                       »»————-　★　————-««

[jo-harrington]

Interview Prep (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried about making a change to some routines.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.03

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Meeting the Family, Anxiety, Fluff

Note: Special thanks to @chestylarouxx @fracturedarkness and @courtingchaos for reading my snippets, listening to my rambling, and easing my nerves with this one. It's been in my drafts since February! And it's always kind of eluded me, but it's very special so I appreciate the time you took to help me out. So so much.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

“…and I swear the sound is so much better than my Fender. Like a thousand times better. I’m gonna need a new amp, I think. She is way too good for that hunk of junk that Rick got from his buddy way back when.”

“Uh huh.”

“God, I wish you could come to a show to hear it. Maybe...maybe I can ask Tom at the Hideout if our set could be a little later one night so you could come out after the store closed?"

"Sure."

“And then we could get pickle and bologna milkshakes at Benny's afterwards."

"Sounds great."

"Am I boring you?” Eddie finally stopped as he hit the button on the bailer and put his hands on his hips. "You're not even listening."

“What?” You freed yourself from your thoughts and got a good look at him. "I...what? No."

It was break time, which meant cardboard got crushed and garbage tossed before you ventured into the food court for something to eat. And on a day like today when your schedules aligned, that also meant your break was spent with your closest friend--only friend--in Hawkins.

And on any other day, you would have happily listened to his story.

Hell, you actually had listened to him...for most of it at least--he boasted about his new guitar, how he named her Sweetheart, and her first actual performance outside of Gareth's garage that had occurred the night prior--before you got too caught up in your own head.

It had been a normal Wednesday when you got to the store for your opening shift. The registers were counted, gate pushed up, and you were about to confidently post the new schedule.

Then the mail was delivered.

And with it, a larger envelope from home office that contained a very hefty packet inside.

Normally a package like that would make you happy; it was a sign that one of your favorite weeks of the year was approaching: planogram week. It was, quite honestly, not only your favorite week but your favorite part of the job altogether. More than your team, more than your discount...certainly more than helping customers.

Summer was coming to an end, which meant all of the trendy accessories would make way for backpacks, water bottles, notebooks, and lunch boxes. Things that stayed hidden away for 75% of the year, but were suddenly at the forefront of every parent and pre-teen's mind as they got ready to look their best on the first day of school.

Today, however, you suddenly felt a sense of dread as you opened the package because a planogram meant that you would have to schedule an overnight shift on the one night of the week that the mall closed early.

Sunday Night.

Date Night with Eddie.

Eddie's favorite night. And yours.

Your favorite part of your job encroached on what was becoming an essential part of your life.

So you spiraled until your break because it was easier to worry and overthink than it was to just...communicate the fact that you might have to miss a Sunday and face the possibility that Eddie could be mad at you.

Unfortunately he seemed a little steamed right now because he thought you hadn't been listening to him.

His little grumpy face was cute though.

Why was this harder than having to call your team to ask if they were ok with an unexpected overnight shift? God damn it, you needed to get a grip.

“You weren’t listening to anything I said,” he repeated.

“Yes I was,” you insisted.

“What did I say then?”

“You nailed the solo.”

“And…”

“And you actually got a round of applause.”

“And?”

“And you need a new amp.”

“And?”

“Uhm… a-and…”

Shit…maybe you had delved a little bit too far.

Growing up with a big, loud family--including an overbearing mother and two annoying brothers--meant you had the innate ability to split your brain in half and listen to them while also worrying about your own shit.

However, thanks to the intensity of your worrying, that ability failed you.

You wracked your brain for a good 30 seconds until Eddie’s scowl turned into a wicked smile, and then you knew he was just being a jerk.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled at him.

“Excuse me,” he placed a hand on his chest in fake affront and stumbled back a few steps to collapse against the side of the trash compactor. “I'm the worst? You agreed to Pickle and Bologna milkshakes and ignored your best friend. Not very metal, sweetheart."

"I just have a lot on my mind." You shook your head and sighed. "Sorry."

"Well it's a good thing that I am a great listener. Unlike someone."

Eddie pushed himself off the compactor, put his hand on your shoulder, and guided you back inside to the food court. You got your meals of choice and tucked yourselves into a table in the corner by the JCPenney entrance.

"Alright," he started with his mouth full of fries. "Tell dear old Eddie what's bothering you."

You swallowed a mouthful of food and took a deep breath.

It was now or never.

"Well...there's this big thing coming up at work...planogram...uh...floor set," you began. "And it's really important and after it's done...we'll get visitors from corporate and my boss will probably make a few visits to see how it's going. I just want to do really well."

"Well, you've been doing a good job so far right?" Eddie shrugged. "Why wouldn't they think so now?"

"I don't know, I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted. "I'm a new store manager. And a lot of the team never worked retail before. I literally cried my first floor set as a sales associate. It's tough."

"You're just giving yourself the yips. I do it all the time when we add a new song to the set list."

"Don't just say that to make me feel better."

"Last week I forgot how to do a G-chord," he crossed his heart. "Scouts honor."

"You were a Boy Scout?" you asked skeptically.

"Stop distracting me." He popped another French fry in his mouth in an exaggerated fashion. "What else?"

"Well...we have to schedule floor sets on a Sunday."

"Ok."

"After the store closes."

"...Oh."

"Yeah."

Eddie sipped his drink thoughtfully and stared at you with his abyss-like eyes; they didn't betray a single thought going through his head and it made you nervous.

And nervous meant that you didn't shut up.

"I mean I don't want to have to cancel our night out," you started with the word vomit. "It's just the way things are always done and you'll see one day if you still work at Tape World for long enough, that's one of those things that...I don't know, if you try to do things differently it always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"And I'm young and whenever we have a conference call to talk about sales...my DM doesn't let me forget that I'm a baby compared to everyone else and it's so frustrating because I feel like I can't even suggest anything new because it immediately is dismissed as naive. It's like they keep waiting for me to fail. So I wish...I wish I could make a change so we could keep our plans. Like if it was anything else I could make it work but I...this thing I just can't, you know?

"But...but...b-because I would have to work on Sunday overnight I would probably be off another day so if you're ok with it we can do something else? Maybe on...I don't think I could get Tuesday off because of everyone's availability...maybe Friday if your friends are cool with me crashing your club night. Or...you open on Saturdays. We could do Saturday night instead?"

The punctuation to the drawn out sentence was your labored breath and Eddie noisily sucking the dregs of his soda through the straw. Shithead that he was didn't even have the decency to do anything but continue watching you with his big dumb cute eyes.

"Weeellllll..." he started in a sing-song tone and then paused and sucked at the straw some more.

Could he just tell you to fuck off already so this wouldn't be as painful as it was?

"That really sucks you need to work overnight," he finished his thought with a grin and shoved his cup to the side. "Being in the mall after hours...sounds kinda creepy. Do you think there are ghosts?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" you deadpanned. "You let me go on and on like that for nothing?"

"It was funny."

"I hate you."

"You cherish me."

"It was painful." You groaned. "Like I think I'm sweating. My heart hurts Edward."

"Don't act like you've never let me do that before," he scoffed and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. You threw a fry at him. "Don't start what you can't finish sweetheart. One fry can turn into a food fight and I would hate to find out the hard way why I'm Hawkins High's food fighting champion."

"Ok so...Saturday night?" you asked. "This Saturday...are you doing anything?"

"Uh..." Eddie hesitated and sat up a little straighter. "I mean...no hot dates or anything. What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe just what we normally do?" you suggested. "Drive around, eat a bunch of junk food. Or if you want to come over to my place and I--"

"So, I have a confession to make," he interrupted you. "I actually do have plans on Saturday. More like...standing plans than anything. My uncle Wayne is off on Saturdays and we've always watched reruns on TV and ordered pizza. Family night or whatever. My mom used to do the same thing so...Wayne thought it would be...I dunno, good for stability or something.

"It's silly but I don't want to just ditch him without asking," Eddie explained and your heart melted.

Of course you didn't want to take time away from his family; you knew how important his uncle was to him.

"Oh...well that's ok...we can rain check for another day then or--"

"Why don't you just come over?" Eddie asked. "He won't mind. I am opening this Saturday so I'll be done by 5; you can get there in time for Wheel of Fortune. That way he can't yell at me when I try to solve the puzzles with lewd words." He mimics, what you assume is, Wayne's voice.

Eddie looked so eager that you immediately agreed.

Your heart stopped in your chest though.

Come over? And meet his uncle?

Sure...you'd already met Benny a few weeks ago...and yeah you'd thought of it like meeting someone from Eddie's family but...this was his actual family. What if you insulted his uncle or...or made yourself look stupid.

You needed to put your best foot forward. Make a good impression.

"How about..." your mouth started moving before your brain could catch up. "...instead of ordering pizza, I cook for you guys instead? I'll be off Saturday since I'm doing the overnight on Sunday. I can just bring everything over."

Eddie's eyes lit up and as he teased you about the impressive cooking skills that you had supposedly boasted about previously, all you could think was...

How did this situation get even more stressful?

---

The rest of the week leading up to Saturday had been overwhelming to say the least.

To you, food was life. Cooking for someone was everything that you could do to show them that you cared. How many hours had you spent with your grandma making cookies for neighbors at Christmas, or freezer meals when a distant relative had a baby, or a tray of something after a friend of the family had passed.

Food was love and friendship, and as much as what you had done for Eddie with the guitar had been a show of friendship...this meant so much more.

So you needed to hit a home run...or a bullseye...or whatever sports terminology signified that you won.

Which meant you'd spent some down time flipping through your grandma's old recipes that she had gifted you once upon a time--a thin, pocket-sized spiral notebook with a purple cover that was filled with her illegible handwriting and personal shorthand--and thinking of ideas that would be both impressive and hearty. You'd already changed your mind twice, and had made just as many trips to Bradleys for extra ingredients.

You'd also pestered Eddie several times through the course of the week to get his input without giving anything away.

"Does your uncle like cheese?"

"Of course he does."

"Some people don't."

"Would we get pizza every Saturday if we didn't like cheese?"

"There's some pizza that doesn't have cheese."

"Why the questions? Are you nervous sweetheart?"

And that was when he started to tease you. Every chance he got. Lunches, breaks, passing you on the way to the employee lot as you started a shift and he ended one.

He asked if you wanted their phone number so you could call Wayne and make kissy noises at each other for hours, if you wanted him to bring love letters home to save on stamps, and if you were planning to dress really nice for your date with his uncle.

"I'll be sure to grab extra chapstick for him so his lips are ready for you tomorrow," he laughed and leaned closer to make the biggest, noisiest smacking kiss noise in your ear as you waited for your break time cookies.

"You're an idiot," you rolled your eyes after he uttered the last one. "I don't want him to hate me because...what if he doesn't want me to hang around you anymore. I'd kind of lose my mind."

"Oh, uh," Eddie backed away a little bit and rubbed the back of his neck, then shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Wayne wouldn't do that. He's...a little bit of a grump, but he's harmless."

"Guess we know where you got it from," you muttered.

"I didn't know you were...actually worried," Eddie continued. "I'm sorry. But it'll be ok. Even if you...wore a potato sack and brought canned beans that we had to heat on the stove for dinner. He'll think you're great. Because you are."

You were both a little silent after that, Eddie staring at his feet bashfully as you felt your heart race and your head spin.

You finalized your plans that night when you got home and immediately started on your dessert, sure that it was all gonna be a hit with both Munsons.

It was gonna be great. Because Eddie thought you were great.

And Saturday, the doubt didn't creep on you at all. Not while you cooked, not as you packed your casserole dish and Tupperware into a large cooler bag, and not even as you drove across town, following Eddie's directions to Forest Hills without getting lost once.

It wasn't until you stepped out of your car and stared at the front door that you felt your stomach drop a little.

Those four cement steps might as well have been a thousand.

But...your sneakers only needed to crunch on the gravel before the door was thrown open and a slightly-breathless Eddie smiled at you...and then all the worry disappeared.

"Hey," he greeted. "D-did you need any help?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," you shrugged.

He jogged down the steps in socked-feet and crossed to the passenger's side door of your car, talking a mile a minute as he reached in to grab your things.

"I, uh, got home an hour ago," he rambled. "The A/C at the store conked out...and then Paulie had me make a trash run before I left. Had a big shipment today. So if I'm still a little sweaty...that's why."

"You're fine," you laughed.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry. I've been cooking so I'm probably a little sweaty too. Lasagna and July...sort of don't go together that well."

He raced up the steps and held the door open for you.

"Lasagna? Oh the old man is gonna love you," Eddie chuckled.

You entered the Munson abode and were immediately hit by the strongest sense of home that you'd felt since...well, since you'd still been at home. Not necessarily that it was a place where you belonged, but...it was a place of belonging.

Mugs and hats and other memorabilia lined the walls, reminiscent of the tchotchkes that your mother stacked to high heaven on every available surface. The couch was a little faded but looked comfortable and soft as though you could sink into the cushions and disappear into a soft nether-realm.

Your grandpa had a couch like that. His spot sunk to the shape of his body. It was still your favorite place to sit when he wasn't already there. It was like a hug.

That was when your eyes found the armchair, molded around the shape of the man seated in it. He was older, a little weathered and greying, hairline receding, and even though he isn't smiling right now, the lines around his mouth were indication enough that he smiled quite a bit.

Just like his nephew.

"Uh, Wayne this is my friend from the mall," Eddie introduced you as he juggled your cooler bag and your large Tupperware to the kitchen counter. "The one I told you about. Works at the jewelry store."

"Nice to meet you," you smiled and held a hand out to him to shake. He took your hand in a firm grasp and as you shook his the way your grandfather taught you--to command respect and trust--his eyes narrowed.

"I had to hear about you through Rick, who heard about you through Benny," Wayne started. "And I haven't the slightest idea why my nephew thought he needed to keep you a secret; not the first girlfriend he's brought around--"

Eddie groaned something unintelligible from the kitchen and you fought the urge to break eye contact with Wayne so you could look at him.

"--but I just watched him run around for the past hour tidying up. And he's never done that before. So if you can help him keep the habit, you're alright in my book." Wayne smiled widely and let your hand go.

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, suddenly realizing how silly it had been that you were even worried in the first place.

Eddie had been right.

You could never admit that to him.

"Even did the dishes," Wayne looked past you at Eddie. "He never does the dishes."

"W-we're having dinner," Eddie whined. "Gotta have clean plates."

The two of them bantered back and forth comfortably and you joined Eddie in the kitchen to get everything plated. There was a salad, buttery mashed potatoes, and of course your still-warm and gooey lasagna.

Eddie explained that it was Wayne's favorite that he rarely got to have homemade--

"Stoffers will do in a pinch," Wayne explained.

--and that you were already more loved than he was simply for making it, to which Wayne agreed. And he even pointed out the well-loved Garfield mug that he had gotten Wayne for Father's Day one year for that fact alone.

Eddie tried to protest when you took the dessert bowl from him to stow it away in the fridge until it was the appropriate time.

"I didn't even get to have cookies with you today," he reasoned. "Or a soda. See? I suffer when you're not working. How am I--a growing boy--supposed to reach my fullest potential without proper sustenance?"

You snorted and brought the plates out to the living area while Eddie trailed behind you.

"He's just grumpy because you're making him eat vegetables," Wayne chuckled as he took his plate. "A feat I have yet to achieve in 8 years. So if you weren't already in my good books, you are now."

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully at first. You and Eddie sat on the couch--which was just as comfy as you thought it would be--as Wayne occupied the armchair. They inhaled their first helping and showered you with compliments. Eddie begrudgingly admitted that your cooking was as good as you had bragged, and even said the dressing on your salad "wasn't Ranch but was still pretty tasty."

As Eddie had told you days ago, Wheel of Fortune started promptly at 7:30 and he and Wayne tried to solve as many puzzles as possible around mouthfuls of food. They teased each other when their guesses were particularly ridiculous, and celebrated when they got one right.

You solved a long puzzle correctly--your only contribution to their little competition--before there were very many tiles revealed on the board and Eddie patted your thigh in praise when you got it right with a soft "that's my girl" that nearly had you drop your plate.

When Wheel ended, Wayne stood up to grab seconds for himself and Eddie and a couple of beers for you all. Before he sat back down he grabbed a tape from a basket beside the television and popped it into the VCR.

"I hope you don't mind," he said sheepishly. "I like the background noise and Love Boat doesn't start til 9."

As the static on the screen cleared, you were treated to a good look of a Map to Illustrate the Ponderosa in Nevada.

"Mind? I love Bonanza," you laughed, and Eddie groaned beside you.

"No I already have to endure Wayne and Rick and their western reruns, and now you too?"

Conversation then turned to you. Turned to the usual stuff that you talked about when you met someone new. And you really...didn't like talking about yourself. The middle child and the only girl with two strong-willed brothers and parents that liked to pick and pick and pick at every imperfection; it was ingrained in you.

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to really like to talk to you, at you, about you.

"I work at Claire's. We do like...ear piercing and cute accessories for kids."

"She works there? She's the store manager. And the youngest one in the company. Right? Is that...no...in the district. Anyway..."

And where you faltered, he picked up the reins.

"I mean it's just community college. Everyone graduates. I'm not smart or anything."

"Are you shitting me right now? Sweetheart I can't even graduate high school."

Eagerly.

"And there was this one time, I shit you not Wayne," Eddie's hands mimed as he tried to tell his story. "She literally balanced on one foot on the top rung of a ladder. Had to have been...20 feet high...to get this kitten that was stuck on top of the bailer. How it got there? I couldn't tell you."

"It was not the top rung."

"It was."

"It wasn't 20 feet!"

"Let me tell the story."

"I'm supposed to be telling the story," you laughed at him.

"Ok, you're right, but you weren't telling it good enough," Eddie argued. "You have to emphasize."

"He means fib," Wayne clarified.

"I mean...bend the truth for entertainment purposes only," Eddie explained rapidly.

Eventually dinner was done and it was time for dessert, which Eddie eagerly followed you into the kitchen for.

"How am I doing?" you asked nervously as you rummaged in the fridge.

"You're doing great. How many times do I have to tell you he would like you?" he huffed good-naturedly.

"I don't know, I just needed reassurance."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed. "You're doing great. I'm sure he'll be asking me when the next time you'll be over is so he can maybe get some more lasagna. He doesn't just let anyone watch A Rose for Lotta with him. You're special."

"Am I?"

"You're special to me."

You looked up at Eddie a little shocked and he smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

You couldn't get your hopes up. You just...couldn't.

"What's taking so long in there?" Wayne asked as he ejected the tape from the VCR so he could flip to ABC. You both looked over and found him watching you with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

"I dunno," Eddie replied petulantly. "Someone's withholding my reward."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another set of plates from the drying rack by the sink. You opened your container to reveal the fluffy green mounds of pudding and whipped cream and marshmallows studded with bright maraschino cherries.

"Sweetheart, you didn't," Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned over to look into the Tupperware.

"I did," you beamed.

The perfect end to a great night.

Because you might not have known that lasagna was Wayne's favorite.

But you knew that Watergate salad was Eddie's.

---

It was late by the time Eddie walked you out to your car, way past your usual bedtime, and later than you should have been up especially considering that you would be doing the overnight tomorrow.

The dessert had been consumed in its entirety; once you and Wayne had your fill, Eddie ate the remainder out of the bowl looking, quite literally, like a kid in a candy store. And as Captain Stubing and Doc Bricker bickered aboard the Pacific Princess, you began dozing on Eddie's shoulder.

He shook you awake and you said your goodbyes to Wayne.

"You're welcome anytime," he insisted as you headed to the door. "Lasagna or no. Don't let Ed trick you into spoiling us. He's still young but my waistband can't handle it."

And now you were standing with Eddie, the driver's side door between you as you sort of refused to get in and drive away. It was a real Midwest Goodbye.

"I'll see you at work..." you fumbled over your words as you tried to think of the next time you'd actually get to see him. You had the overnight tomorrow, and you'd be off Monday. Eddie would be off Tuesday which meant... "Oh god, well...Wednesday? That seems so far away."

"It doesn't have to be Wednesday," Eddie shrugged. "What if I brought you breakfast on Monday? After your floor set is over?"

"God that's gonna be so early for you," you dismissed his idea.

"So? You just made us the best dinner and there's leftovers for a few days, which you didn't want. Let me get you breakfast."

"I don't want to put you out."

The two of you bickered back and forth for a minute before you put your foot down and told him to sleep in because he had to close on Monday night.

"Thanks though," you said. "This was nice. Family dinner at home. It was really nice. Makes me a little homesick but...I guess Hawkins is my home for now."

"Hey, of course, any time," Eddie replied. He looked pensive for a second and then turned so he didn't have to look at you. Like he was hesitant about what you would say or think. "We don't...I mean I guess what I mean is...I really enjoy hanging out on Sundays and I know this is sort of a one-off thing. But...you know we don't only have to hang out on Sundays. We can do...I mean...have dinner again sometimes or meet you after work even if I'm off...or see a movie again...get something from Family Video or..."

"You wanna hang out with me more?" you cut into his rambling.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Friends hang out all the time but..." You shrugged. "Don't...skip out on...I mean I guess I don't know what it is you do with the guys outside of band practice and DnD. Don't skip out on them just for me."

"No, hey now, wait," Eddie held his hand out to stop you. "Those turds already see me all the time and are gonna see me more once school's back in session. And...I'll probably work less so...I'll take any time with you now that I can get."

"Alright." You beamed.

"Alright." He mirrored you. "More non-Sunday hangouts."

You agreed and he held out his pinky. You immediately hooked yours into it.

“See you Wednesday sweetheart,” Eddie said his farewell. “Don’t dream of me too much.”

---

"Alright guys, it's almost 7am, time to clean up," you announced to your overnight crew with a clap of your hands.

It had been a fun but trying night, but ultimately successful.

Saturday had been perfect but your whole Sunday routine had already been thrown off and you spent a majority of your day sleeping and cleaning and wondering what Eddie was getting up to at work.

As you predicted, everyone was more than a little confused by the planogram booklet but you were a patient teacher. Everyone thought they had an eye for store layout until they were faced with twenty shipment boxes of pencil cases and locker decor. You had to talk a few of them down from near-panics several times throughout the night.

Over the course of the floorset, side ponytails became even more askew than normal, a few pairs of shoes got kicked into a pile by the gate, and everyone turned into tired, sweaty messes.

To keep morale up, you had insisted on everyone bringing a favorite tape that alternated in the shop radio and you had stocked up at Bradley's with an assortment of sugary snacks and drinks for the break room. Thankfully, the treats had prevented anyone from bursting into tears or threatening to quit, as you had witnessed countless times during your time working in retail.

You really channeled Eddie's sweet tooth when making your choices and it had paid off.

But after 12 hours of unpacking, stacking, dusting, shifting, and sliding, you were all ready to go home.

You ushered everyone out of the store and locked the gate behind you, and as the group walked toward the employee exit, excitement had returned. Pride for a seemingly-impossible task completed.

"The store looks so good! Mindy is gonna shit herself when she comes in to open."

"Oh my god, do you think we're gonna have a store visit? Can you let me know what they think of the hair wall?"

"We're gonna make so many sales! Who can say no to that unicorn backpack?"

You entertained their conversation but when you set foot outside and saw a familiar van parked next to your car, you lost all ability to speak.

He had said he was gonna surprise you with breakfast...but you told him not to. Of course he didn't listen; it had you rolling your eyes in annoyed amusement.

God you knew everyone was a gossip, this was gonna get to Mindy and then she was gonna give you an earful. She already let you have it when she heard about your invitation to dinner.

You quickly thanked your team and ushered them to their cars before you meandered towards yours. You ignored the questioning looks that they shot you as you hesitated to get into your car but you waved goodbye as they drove away.

When the last car left the lot, you immediately stormed over to the passenger's side door of the van and threw it open to find a McDonald's bag on the seat, two coffees in the cupholders, and a tired-eyed Eddie in the driver's seat. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with Kiss's Beth.

"I'm always somewhere else," he turned his upper body towards you dramatically and began serenading you. "And you're always there alone."

"Unbelievable," you scoffed at him.

"Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling. Oh Beth what can I do?" He slapped his hands against the steering wheel dramatically. "Beth what can I do?"

You climbed into the passengers seat, closed the door behind you, and opened the McDonalds bag to the delightful smell of hot, fresh, crispy hash browns and egg McMuffins.

"If it's not obvious," Eddie announced as he reached across the van to shove his hand into the bag for a hash brown of his own. "I'm Beth in this scenario because you left me alone for hours and hours and hours last night."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah I got into all sorts of trouble."

“I told you not to bring breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

"You didn't need to come if you were tired."

"I wanted to and I pretty much do whatever I want anyways," he insisted, and then thankfully focused on his food as you felt your face heat up.

"Well, if you'd like to know, me and the boys were not actually playing all night," you remarked and dug the sandwiches out of the brown bag. You handed one to Eddie, whose mouth was already full of salty, potatoey goodness after he'd shoved the hash brown in one piece. His cheeks were all round and full like a chipmunks and you held back a giggle.

God he was too cute. And he brought you breakfast after a long overnight shift. And he had called you his girl and told you you were special. How were you supposed to stop yourself from having a crush on him if this was...just how he was?

The two of you got to talking about your night, about his Sunday shift, about what you did before work, about what he did after it. And it was nice.

And as you sat there watching him slurp the hot coffee and watch the sparse traffic around the mall dive, you finally found the right words and the strength not to make an absolute fool of yourself.

"This was really nice of you, Eddie. You're wonderful."

He put his hand on his chest and looked a little sheepish.

"I'm wonderful?"

"You're wonderful to me."

---

Next Part: Corrective Action

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[jeankluv]

Birdie | Satoru Gojo - Chapter 04

Words: 4,9k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Warnings this chapter: mentions of wounds

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Authors notes: I was going to post this one during the weekend but I felt like posting before. I want to thank everyone leaving lovely messages and likes on each of the chapters, this motivates me so much to keep writing this story. Thank you.

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Links to the fic on: wattpad | ao3

You were sitting on the floor of your apartment as you put things into boxes and waited for Gojo to arrive. After meeting him in the cafeteria and having insisted on coming and that he would show you even if he had to help with all the moving, you haven't seen him again. He hadn't even shown up in class, which was extremely rare. If your memory didn't fail you, Gojo had never missed a class.

Kyoko had told you that Suguru had told her something about family matters, so you didn't give any more importance to the fact that he wasn't going to show up to class for sometime.

The address wasn't complicated enough to take so long, and on top of that he could have sent you a message or something, so you wouldn't have to wait an hour or so.

You only wished he was not going to leave you waiting for him all day. Or else…

The doorbell rang suddenly, making you jump on your seat. You got up and walked to open the door.

He was finally here.

"Finally you're here." You said opening the door. "I already thought this was a bad joke or…" Your face dropped. "Gojo! What happened?!"

His face was purple and he had some wounds with the scab already coming off. Your heart was beating a mile an hour. Had they attacked him coming here? A thief? No, the wounds didn't seem recent.

"Oh birdie you're worried about me?" A smirk formed on his face.

"Don't joke in a situation like that asshole!" You reprimanded him. "Of course I'm worried if someone appears all wounded in my front door."

Turning on your heel you headed to the sink, you knew the house had a first aid kit, maybe you could treat him with some of it.

"Birdie…” He muttered approaching you. "It's okay, they are old."

"You got into a fight?" You left the first aid kit back on it's place. "I never pictured you like those kind of boys."

"A bad boy?" A smirk appeared on his lips.

"No. An asswhole who would get on a fight and would end up all wounded.”

He looked at you and then smiled. "Should we start?" He turned around and walked around the tiny apartment.

"Yeah. I brought my notebook and everything the professor gave us." You said taking everything out of your bag. "This is not the best place to study… but since you insisted so much, we will have to deal with these boxes and everything around us."

"You used to live here?" He sat down on the bed. "It's…"

"Tiny? I know but it was the best I could get when I got here." You sat next to him.

He nodded and grabbed one of your notebooks from your hands. "Your parents don't live in…"

"I don't have parents." You cut him off. You didn't want to talk about the matter and hoped that Gojo would catch it with the cold tone you used.

Gojo cleared his throat and murmured a sorry, before turning to face you.

Placing the notebook between the two of you, he spoke. "So…" He looked at the notebook. "What's exactly what you don't understand?"

You thought for a moment. "I guess the problems." You pointed them out. "I understand most of the formulas but when it comes to start resolving the problem I find it confusing and ended up taking data that is not, or so I think." You mumbled the last part.

"It's true that the way professor Tanaka redacts her problems are a bit confusing, but once you realize how she redacts them you will see that they are always the same." He pointed out. "If you know the equations it shouldn't be difficult for you." He looked at you. "Let's start with this one, try to solve it and I will also do the same and see where you fail okay?" You shook your head and Gojo smiled, grabbing a pen from your desk and a piece of paper to start on with the problem.

Minutes started to pass and you were embarrassed, you didn't want to look at Gojo because you knew he finished the problem long ago but here you were looking at the result you obtained knowing that it was impossible to get to that conclusion.

You had been competing against Gojo these last few years to be the best academically and you had never managed to surpass him and now you were embarrassed because a stupid subject had stuck and you were unable to advance.

You dropped your head forward, it already hurt and it was only the first problem.

"Bridie…" You heard Gojo spoke. "You need help with the problem?"

You nodded without looking up and you could see how his hand took your notebook and turned it a little so he could see what you had done. He would probably think you were an idiot and laugh at you.

"Let's do it together, okay?" You nodded again.

What expression would he have at that moment? Was he holding back his laugh? You wanted to look up but you were too embarrassed.

"Let me sit next to you." You could feel how he moved and stood next to you. "This way we can both read the statement." You murmured okay and then he started to explain. "Well, what I usually do is point out the important aspects of the problem." He pointed to the information. "And then write them down on the sheet, so you have a global idea of everything."

He began to write everything down and write down the names of what each thing was. It was true that that way you could see everything more clearly.

"If in the problem can be done, I usually make a drawing."

"I used to do that in chemistry." You said.

"Yeah me too." He responded. "That way it was easier to know what quantities each mixture needed." You nodded. "Well, it's similar here, that way you get an idea of what you're looking for." He finished drawing and showed it to you. "Do you see it clearer that way?" He said, turning the page and showing it to you.

You definitely did and now things made sense, not like before. You nodded and Gojo handed you the paper so you could do the problem. You started doing it, now everything was easier.

"I will be back in a minute." He stood up and exited for a moment.

You saw him leave and you paid your attention back to the problem again, this time you would get it and if you used what Gojo had taught you again you could solve the rest of the problems without help.

You felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders being able to master this. Passing all the subjects meant that you would continue to qualify for the scholarship so you could continue studying, but if you failed in any of them, the scholarship would disappear and your dream of continuing with your degree and graduating would also disappear.

You smiled when you checked the result, it was correct. You had done it. You looked at the door where Gojo had left and when you saw that he did not return, you got to work on the rest of the problems using the method that Gojo had taught you. Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

You don't know how much time had passed when Gojo returned, but you had managed to solve 5 problems on your own.

"Birdie, I went and buy…"

"I solved them!" You showed him. "I did it!"

Gojo looked at you and then at the page. "You did it. Good job birdie." He smiled. "That's because I am an excellent teacher."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Actually it's because I'm an excellent student."

"Sure…" He looked around. "I think our lesson for today it's over."

"What? You almost did nothing."

"I helped you understand how to solve the problems!" He replied.

"And? What a shitty teacher you are." You crossed your arms and sat on the bed.

"You mad at me birdie?" He sat next to you. "Come on, I bought you snacks." He moved the bag in the air.

"Snacks?" You looked and tried to grab the bag.

"No, no, no." He shook his head with a playful smirk drawn on his face. "First you need to admit I'm an excellent teacher."

You huffed, brushing a strand of your hair out of front of you. "Okay, you're the best tutor I've ever had." Gojo smiled and handed you the bag.

"Hey, have you had any other private tutors?" He looked at you while you rummaged through the bag and grabbed one of the snacks.

"No." You smiled while eating a piece of the snack.

Gojo laughed. "So obviously I'm the best."

"Of course, there hasn't been any other." You shrugged.

"Now." He stood up from the bed. "How should I help you here?" He looked around.

"You are going to help me?" You looked at him swallowing the piece you just ate.

"Sure. And don't say there is no need."

"Hmm." You thought, he was taller and stronger than you. "Could you bring me down the things that are in the top of the closet? Most of them are winter clothes or old things, but I barely get there and they are quite heavy." Gojo looked where you were pointing and nodded. "Thank you."

"We can have another tutoring session through the week." Gojo said. "We have the same free hours, so… if you want."

"Yeah, okay." You nodded. "I still have some doubts on another aspect of the subject, maybe you can help me."

"Of course I can, I'm the best."

"You're the best." You said at the same time, rolling your eyes. "Again thank you Gojo, for… helping me, I guess." The words had cost you, but they were finally out.

"Birdie." You looked up at him and he was shaking his head. "I should be the one thanking you."

You tilted your head to the side, what did that mean? "Why?"

"I guess for giving me a chance or something like that?" He left one of the bags he had taken on the floor. "I know you don't like me, I don't know why, really, but I'm glad they put us in that job together." He smiled at you. "It will be the last time you have to put up with me."

What did he mean with that last sentence? Gojo climbed back onto the chair and continued taking out the bags without saying a single word again. You also did your thing, keeping things in a box and leaving everything as if no one had ever lived in that apartment. But you couldn't get that phrase out of your head, next year you would share even more classes, in the end you were studying the same branch, why did he said that as if he wasn't going to come back?

You looked around at the boxes, not many, but full of what you had brought from your grandmother's house and what you had been buying and acquiring these last two years, nearly three years. It was at times like this where you missed having your grandmother with you or having been able to have your mother next to you and that she would have been there to see you grow.

You hoped that they were both looking down on you and feeling proud of what you were slowly achieving.

The ringing of a phone snapped you out of your momentary trance. You grabbed your phone to see that it wasn't yours, it was Gojo's, who was leaning face down on your old bed.

"Hmm, Gojo." You called him, he was still taking care of winter clothes you told him to. He looked at you and you pointed to his phone. "Someone is calling."

"Can you check who it is?" You nodded and grabbed it.

"It says… mother." You didn't know if it was your feeling or what, but you could swear that Gojo tensed up the moment you said the word mother.

"Hang up and put the phone on silent please." You nodded without asking questions, you didn't want to get involved in matters that weren't yours.

You felt a pinch in your heart as you thought about the tone Gojo had used. He didn't seem to get along with his mother, or maybe they were just angry about something. You've heard rumors about the Gojo clan, who hasn't? The entire university had heard them. Satoru Gojo was the only son and grandson, which made him the heir. An extremely rich heir.

The Gojo clan had dedicated more than three generations to their law firm and had gained incredible fame, positioning them in the upper class of Japan. From what you understood, Gojo's great-grandfather had been the one who started the business, in the 1930s he traveled with his wife to the United States where he started from scratch and managed to make his way and by the 1960s he was already a truly known man, and returned to Japan where he earned the respect of the upper classes. His son inherited the business after the death of him and later Gojo's father and now it would be Satoru Gojo's turn. But he had decided to take another alternative and ignore the wishes of his family.

When you had your first encounter with Satoru Gojo, the first day, when he dumped you and didn't even look at you, you thought he was a brat and later that day you learned who he was. The rich boy from the Gojo clan.

When you started classes you thought he was there for his parents' money, you never saw him doing anything and you knew from the voices in the hallways that he went from party to party every weekend. They said that he never slept with the same girl, he had seemed like a textbook fuckboy to you.

That is why you were distrustful and so extremely curt with him. You couldn't trust him, but the bastard made it really difficult. You had gotten to know him a little and something inside you had softened, even if you wanted to ignore it.

You shook your head. You could stop thinking about it. Once the work was finished everything would be over, yes that's. Everything would end, but why did that make you feel sad?

"In the clouds again, birdie?" Breath hit your ear causing you to stir.

"Fuck Gojo!" You turned to look at him covering your ear. You hadn't heard him come down from where he was.

He smiled showing his teeth. "I'm done. What do you want me to do now?" You looked around thinking. "I can help you with your underwear if you want." He smiled sideways. The colors of your face were probably at their peak. You wanted to kill him for teasing you like that.

"Gojo, you want to die?" He laughed.

"I was kidding birdie. But c'mon what can I do for you?" Fuck, there it was that look again and you heart beating loudly on your chest.

"Put the kitchen utensils in the boxes." You pointed your finger at the boxes on the dining room table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A couple of hours had passed since Gojo's arrival at your former apartment, the sun was now setting. The apartment appeared nearly untouched, as if no one had lived in before. You wiped your forehead with a tissue and glanced at Gojo, who was diligently packing items into boxes.

There had been little conversation between you two; in fact, Gojo had hardly uttered a word since you mentioned his mother's phone call. He hadn't even agreed to take a break, indicating his determination to assist you in getting everything sorted as quickly as possible.

Sitting on the bed, you idly swung your feet in the air, waiting for Gojo to finish packing the last of the items he held. If someone were to walk in at that moment, they might assume something entirely different. I mean, who would come to assist a mere "classmate" in cleaning up their old apartment? Hardly anyone, right? That's what made Gojo's actions so puzzling. Why did he choose to help? Did he have hidden motives, or was it simply an act of goodwill? You couldn't say for sure, and part of you hesitated to even ask and find out.

"All done." Gojo spoke putting both hands on his waist and showing his smile. He really had a perfect smile.

"Good." You stood up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome birdie." He said patting your head.

You moved his hand. "I'm not a dog for you to do that to me." You said upset.

"Alright."

He walked past you with a smile and grabbed his cell phone that was still on the bed. The smile disappeared when he looked at the screen. Had something happened? Gojo looked really distraught. You had to do something, right?

"Gojo are you…?" You started to talk.

"I need to make a call, I will be right back." And he existed the apartment leaving you alone.

You turned around on your own feet and sat back down on the bed. Was he alright? Should you ask him?

"What would Kyoko do in a situation like this?" You whispered to yourself.

Probably she would try to talk to him and comfort him. But for Kyoko was something natural for you, not at all, you didn't know how to handle feelings well, you weren't good with your own, not to mention the others. You grabbed your phone started playing with it, nervously trying to figure it what to do once Gojo was back.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear Gojo re-enter. You didn't notice his presence until you felt the mattress next to you sink, indicating that he had sat next to you. You had your back turned to him so you couldn't see his face. It was then when you felt his arm grab you from behind, making you shiver at that sensation. What the fuck was he doing?

"Gojo, what…?"

Gojo cut you off before finishing the question. "Just stay like this." He hid his face in the crook of your exposed neck. And he muttered against your skin. "Please…"

You remained silent, offering no protest or words. It was the first time you witnessed Gojo in such a vulnerable state. Resting your chin on your hand, you gazed at the white wall of your old room. The room echoed only with your faint breaths, mingled with the distant sounds of the bustling street.

Feeling moisture on your shoulder, you realized Gojo was crying as he held onto you. Uncertain of how to respond, you grappled with the dilemma â€" should you ask him, step away, or maintain a silent pretense? Opting for the cowardly choice, you remained silent, pretending it wasn't unfolding.

After a few minutes, Gojo released his grip, audibly sniffing. Without turning around, you rose from your position and headed to the kitchen. It was nearly 11 pm, and you needed to return to Kyoko's house. Fortunately, you managed to organize and clean everything, making it easier for you to retrieve your belongings later.

"I…" You swallowed. "I think it's time to go." You still didn't turn around, he probably didn't want you to see him in that state.

"Yeah…" He whispered and you heard him moving from his place.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You were afraid that with the silence that was there, Gojo would hear it. You felt his presence behind you. Shit, you should have asked him how he was feeling? Something?

"Take your things, I will take you home." He said passing next to you and exiting the apartment.

Taking a deep breath, you pondered the recent emotional outburst. How should you respond to this unexpected side of Gojo? His tears left you perplexed, and the tired, sorrowful tone in his voice during the call lingered in your thoughts. It struck a chord, reminiscent of your own moments of vulnerability with your grandmother.

Despite your usual disdain for Gojo, you found a desire to comfort and uplift him. You wished for the return of the annoying yet smiling Gojo, even if most of the time, you wanted to strangle him.

Heading to the apartment's desk, you gathered bags containing items for Kyoko's house, leaving the rest for donation. Struggling with the weight, you loaded your backpack and carried multiple bags on each side. Now, burdened with a load twice as heavy, you realized you genuinely needed Gojo's help. Stumbling out of the apartment, you navigated the challenge of your hefty cargo.

"Sorry." You noticed how your left shoulder lightened. "I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice the bags you wanted to carry." Gojo had taken all the bags in your hands without any effort. It wasn't surprising, after all he was the star of the basketball team.

"It's okay…" You followed him. "I was handling it just right."

"It don't look like that." He smirked.

Oh he was back. And you were happy.

"For real." You replied.

"For someone that has a black belt in taekwondo, you are actually pretty weak birdie." Now he was mocking you.

"Did Kyoko tell you that?" He nodded. "Well let me tell you I have pretty strong legs."

"I would love to see that." He said with a smirk, leaving the bags in the car.

Your cheeks turned, you knew he was saying it with other intentions. "Gojo, don't you dare. Or I'm going to kick your ass for real." You slammed the backpack against his chest causing a whimper to leave his lips.

"Alright bridie, but be careful with me. I'm a delicate guy." He pouted.

Rolling your eyes, you settled into the passenger seat, and Gojo started the car. As you directed him to Kyoko's home, a comfortable silence enveloped the car, only disrupted by the radio's music. Despite the lack of conversation, it didn't feel awkward.

The recent emotional episode played on a loop in your mind. The urge to ask if he was okay lingered, but uncertainty held you back. Sneaking glances at him from the corner of your eyes, you couldn't deny his attractive profile. Everything about him seemed perfect, explaining why everyone seemed captivated by him.

"Eh…" You played with your fingertips. "Gojo." You heard him humming. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" It didn't sound genuine. "Don't worry."

You nodded, although you didn't trust his words. He wasn't telling you the truth but you didn't want to pressure him, so you let it be. You closed your eyes and you leaned back in the seat, leaving your mind blank and letting the dim street lights increase your sleep.

At some point you actually fell asleep because the next thing you remember is fingers leaving a strand behind your ear. You opened your eyes and rubbed them, it was already completely night outside.

"Was my car comfortable, bridie?" You nodded still sleepy. "So cute." You heard him softly laugh.

"Huh?" You snapped back and looked at him.

"Good morning or should I say good night?" He titled his head.

"I fell asleep?" He nodded. "Shit, sorry…"

"Don't worry, you looked cute with the drool falling." She teased you as she brought her hand up to touch your chin.

You hit his hand and turned your head to avoid his gaze, you felt like your cheeks were burning at that exact moment. "Gojo, you're an idiot."

He laughed and then cleared his throat. "Mhm… Next Friday we have…" He paused for a moment playing with his hands on the wheel. "We have a basketball game."

"Good luck." Although you knew they didn't need it after all Gojo was there and he was the star of the team, of course.

"I would like you to attend." That tone, was he nervous?

"Gojo, I have to work."

"Talk to Haibara I'm sure he won't mind. Or I will talk with him." You shook your head.

"No." You moved on your seat. "Gojo, tell me something." He hummed. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why do you want me to go to the play?"

He fell silent, you could tell he was trying to find an answer. Was it that difficult to tell you why? "Just because?"

"Just because?" You repeated. "That's not an answer Gojo."

He sighed in defeat. "I would like you to be there." He looked at you. "So please come."

Now you were the one that stayed quiet. He wanted you there? Why? Was this a joke? So many questions were formulating in your head and you were feeling so weird about it.

"Birdie?" You came back when you heard his voice. "You ok…"

"I need to leave." Unbucking the seat belt and opening the door. "I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?" To which Gojo nodded. "Good! Then see you tomorrow and treat those wounds so they don't get worse." You got out of the car and turned one last time to say goodbye. "Good, see you! Bye!" And you can swear you ran grabbing all the things and trying not to fall in the front door.

You entered the house and dropped everything to the floor, making a big noise. You touched your forehead, did you have a fever again? No that was not it.

You heard your name and saw Kyoko's mom in front of you. "Honey, you are all red!" She approached you. "Are you sick again?" She said touching your face.

"It's okay, I just… everything was really heavy and I got tired." You looked at the bags.

"Did you bring everything on your own?" She said worried. "You should've called."

"No, no." You shook your head. "A friend helped me out."

"Oh okay honey." She smiled. "Kyoko still hasn't come back."

"Really?" You looked at her with surprise.

She left before you in the morning and was almost dinner. But that was a good thing, She must have been having a good time with Suguru.

"Do you know by any chance the guy she was meeting?"

"Yeah, he goes to the same college as us and it's our age." You smiled. "And don't worry, I think he is a really good guy."

"It's good to hear that. Let me help you with those bags." She took some of the bags and you did the same with the others.

As you unpacked your belongings, primarily clothes, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your wardrobe and Kyoko's. While you leaned towards black attire, Kyoko embraced a more flirtatious style with bows and pastel colors. Despite these differences, your bond remained strong, understanding each other perfectly.

The sound of approaching footsteps and the creak of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, signaling someone's entrance into your room.

"Ah." Kyoko sighed. "I might be in love." She threw herself to your bed.

"Was it a good date?" You said, crossing your legs and looking at her.

"The best." She sighed again. "He was… ugh." She hid her face in your pillow. "He was so attentive, I had never had such a good date."

"Wow." You let out in surprise. "You are for real?" She nodded. "I'm so happy for you Kyoko. Suguru seems like a nice guy."

"Thank you." She smiled. "And how was yours?"

"My what?"

"Your date."

"I didn't have a date, Gojo came to help me study."

"Okay, so your study date." You held a pillow and threw it to her. "Sorry. But did you study?"

"Yeah… He actually helped me a lot." You sighed.

You wanted to tell Kyoko about what happened with Gojo but you felt it was too private to go around telling other people.

"What's up with that sighed?" Kyoko questioned you.

"Nothing, just thinking." You bit your lip, Kyoko probably knew you were hiding something from her. You needed to bring up another topic. "Gojo asked me to go to his match."

Kyoko let out a gasp and crawled over to you so she was facing you. "Next week?" You nodded. "Suguru asked me too!" She grabbed your hands. "We have to go."

"I have to work that day."

"Talk to your coworker…" She put her puppy eyes.

"Don't use those eyes on me." You looked the other way. "But I might talk with him."

"Yay!" Kyoko screamed. "It will be so fun."

Kyoko stayed in your bedroom for the next couple of hours, both of you stayed talking about different things. She also told you more details of her date and so on. It was almost 2 a.m. when you laid down on your bed. You were going to be tired in your classes, but spending time with your best friend as if you were 14 was worth it.

You spent the night reflecting on the unexpected events of Gojo's vulnerability, the request to attend his basketball game, and the strange connection that seemed to be developing. As you drifted into sleep, you wondered about the complexity of relationships and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Author’s note: fourth chapter done. Ngl the scene of Satoru back hugging birdie was inspired by the scene of Maomao and Jinshi from The Apothecary diaries. Also birdie is starting to be softer when it comes to Satoru, our girl has trust issues

- if you wanna get tagged, comment -

Tag list: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 26

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 19 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n lifted her head when she managed to see a blank sheet of paper falling next to her notebook, finding Alma with a smile as soon as her eyes were on her.

—What's this? —she smiled, picking up the envelope to open it.

—I'm getting married —she excitedly informed.

—Oh my god. Really? Congratulations!

Unable to hide her excitement for her colleague, Y/n got up from her chair to hug her tight, moving her arms under her curly locks. It was so out of character for her, yet she felt so comfortable with that display of affection... And there was no point in denying that what had been happening the past few days had nothing to do with it.

—I didn't invite you earlier because we weren't really close, but I'd really like to see you there —Alma admitted, stepping back—. Donna and Jackie are also coming, and I think some other people here as well.

—I'll be there without a doubt —she assured her.

—And you can also bring that hot neighbor of yours.

When Y/n dared to look away from the invitation to look at her colleague, Alma was giving her a malicious smile while she winked at her.

Free drinks, free food... Jungkook would definitely love that.

—I'll think about that.

—I'll let you work again —her thumb caressed her forearm—. I'll see you for lunch?

—Sure! —fuck... Jason— Wait, no. I can't.

—Lil' date with that cutie? —as much as Y/n attempted to deny it, she knew her colleague would just pretend to believe it while walking away— See you later, then!

It had been months since she saw Jason for the last time before he moved to Florida to work as an estate agent in a company, after being promoted in the branch office in Chicago. He was one of the biggest supporters she had when Noah passed away, and he still was -although he wasn't as present as before, and she couldn't blame him, life went on for everyone.

Her steps slowly paused as she started walking down the stairs to the entrance to wait for Jason there, seeing that same black motorbike she was a little too familiar with.

If those three days had worked for something for Jungkook, it was to make him dependable on Y/n. His mind kept getting busier with thoughts related to her, and he went past that phase of sending dumb messages to wait for her answer thirty minutes later.

He was a man of action.

Well, that... and the fact that Jimin got so tired of speaking to himself that he ended up coming up with the idea of taking her to have lunch.

It was so stupid, yet at the same time it made sense for him how, after spending so much time with her, he got used to being around Y/n. And far from being bothered by her presence, he was upset at the lack of it whenever they were apart.

And that was exactly why he was waiting in front of her workplace, seeing her coming out the building as if she had read his mind.

They were connected.

Jungkook took off his helmet, holding it on his lap with his left hand while he tried to push his bangs back with his right hand. Her presence, as always, captivated him. She was wearing a white turtleneck sweater that fitted her body perfectly, embracing it almost like a second skin. His gaze moved down to the black A-line skirt she was wearing, which had a delicate white grid pattern. As he looked down at the way it flared slightly at her knees, he noticed a pair of black, over-the-knee boots that looked way too good on her to be real.

—3A.

But he wasn't able to say much more, because she spoke as soon as she was close enough to be able to speak to him in a normal tone.

—What are you doing here? —she asked, confused, looking at the other helmet he was carrying around his right forearm.

—Let's go somewhere for lunch —he suggested—. I know of a good brasserie around.

—Kook, I can't today. I already had plans.

He wanted to ignore how upset he felt about her words, but he couldn't even try to pretend he wasn't affected.

—Oh, were you going out with your colleagues?

—No, actually...

—Y/n!

When he looked back at the owner of that voice, he found a tall and lean man, with a presence that was hard to ignore as he approached them with a wide smile. His dark hair was casually tousled, not even being messed up by the soft breeze hitting them, looking effortlessly stylish. His white, textured shirt that was open at the collar, was revealing a hint of a chiseled chest.

And the second he approached them enough so Jungkook could be able to pick up all the flaws he could, just to be punched with the calm confidence his faint smile radiated while his arms wrapped around Y/n with a hug.

His moment was stolen, her attention was on someone else. He was second place... and he hated being left in second place.

—Are you busy?

—No, I was just speaking to a friend —Y/n commented, pointing at Jungkook.

—Hey, what's up? —the boy, who seemed to be around their age, greeted Jungkook when aware of his presence— I'm Jason —he tried to introduce himself, lifting his hand for a high-five.

Of course that was Jason.

—Jungkook —he simply moved his head for a greet, purposely ignoring his approach—. Are you guys going somewhere?

—We're going to have lunch somewhere around —Jason friendly informed him.

—Great, I was starving. That's what I came here for. Right, Y/n? —Jungkook started yapping, hopping off his motorbike— I was just telling her.

—Yes, you were. But you might be uncomfortable if you come —she tried to persuade him.

—Nah, I adapt well —he ignored her again—. I know of a great brasserie near here. Let's go.

She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Jungkook leading the way to the restaurant, as if it had been his plan to meet up with the two of them, only receiving a comforting smile and a shrug from her friend.

Not enough with that, he stopped himself and got on purpose in between them every time Jason tried to approach her to tease her for that new friend she had made.

It was no surprise from her to have such a peculiar fling, after her long on-and-off relationship with her ex boyfriend, but this one seemed to take the cake.

Y/n sat first when they arrived, picking up the chair at the extreme right of the table, just because it was the first place she saw.

—I'll sit here —Jungkook rushed to say, stopping Jason from taking the spot next to her.

Although he took the spot right in front of her, Jungkook wasn't sure if that was a better spot or a worse one, since he got to look at Y/n straight in the eyes as they spoke. He was going to be able to hook her soul with his charms, and make her forget he was right at her left, beside her.

—Actually, I want to sit here —Jungkook spoke again, having Y/n dropping her smile.

—Kook, it's the right same thing —she rolled her eyes.

—The air conditioner is hitting you directly, and I'm a bit hot today.

—Then take off your jacket —she demanded in between her teeth, turning to smile at Jason right after.

—I also tend to order more than one beer, and I'm hidden here. The waiter won't see me. And...

—Fine, sit here —Y/n finally gave up, exchanging places with a smiley Jungkook.

That same smile slowly vanished when he started noticing some small details as he watched them speak. She was cornered by him and the wall, giving Jason the perfect angle for her to focus only on him. In the place she was taking before, she at least had the possibility to distract herself with anything else, but not anymore.

—Actually... —he wasn't able to say much more, her hand on his thigh stopped him from moving.

—Jungkook, if you want to keep your legs, sit the fuck down in your place —she whispered, bending over his body so Jason would only be able to hear some incomprehensible mumbles.

He just agreed, accepting his fate while his eyes moved around the restaurant, heart skipping a beat when her hand moved away to her lap while she smiled at that other man in front of him.

—So, how did you meet each other? —Jason asked, as soon as they both were calm.

—We're neighbors —Y/n answered.

—You're so lucky, I don't even know who's living next door where I live —Jason assured them.

—Well, it took us a bit to get here —Jungkook smiled, moving his elbow over the edge of the table—. My wall is proof of it.

—I drilled a hole in his wall because he wouldn't stop being loud —Y/n explained at the confused look from her friend.

—Holy shit, Y/n. A text message is too subtle for you?

—She also ruined clothes by throwing bleach over them. Oh, and never forget how the old lady a few floors up now thinks I'm a sex maniac because of some... hot mail. And, she faked to want peace, only so I'd eat a brownie filled with laxatives.

He didn't know if he was bringing it all up to defend himself, to push a button on Y/n -because he loved it when she was annoyed-, or if he wanted to scare away the man that was looking at them in disbelief.

—Seriously? Don't play innocent. You sneaked yellow tint in my shampoo. I looked like Piolin for three fucking days —her body completely turned to him—. And don't forget how you sent me to the ER after putting spice in my food.

—I didn't know you were intolerant.

—Wait, you're the homicidal? —Jason interrupted— Why didn't you tell me before it was him? —he scoffed, shaking his head.

—Did she talk about me?

Jungkook went deaf, despite him being the one asking the question. He was only aware of her friend's smile as he spoke, and Y/n's shy smile while looking down, while his heart pumped against his chest so hard that he was able to hear it perfectly.

She did talk about him with someone who was close to her.

That thought kept him calm for most of the lunch, ignoring how smiley Y/n looked while speaking to Jason, or how that guy didn't take his eyes away from her, not even when he was eating his roasted chicken. And he even omitted the fact that neither of them aimed at him once throughout their conversation.

Jungkook remained calm and quiet... until he didn't.

Y/n's body immediately reacted to the touch of Jungkook's hand over her boot, right on the small piece of skin her lifted skirt exposed. As soon as she felt his pinky pushing down the edge of the fabric, attempting to move forward before her hand tried to stop him.

It didn't matter how much she tried to fight it, there was no way she would success pushing him away without making it obvious for Jason.

Just like Jungkook, Y/n lost track of the conversation she was holding while his hand moved up, resting his palm on her inner thigh and her smaller finger so close to her panties that she could even feel his touch.

—Jungkook, Y/n told me you're a boxer —Jason tried to drive him back to their conversation.

Although some of the bruises on his reverse, and the light wounds on his knuckles gave out how he, at least, practiced it.

—I am —he answered proudly—. Actually, I'm a pretty successful entrepreneur.

Y/n wanted to scoff at that comment, but holding back her skin from burning, so she wouldn't start feeling uncomfortable with her clothes, kept her way too busy.

—I own a gym —he remarked again—. Although I love taking control of what goes on there, so I work like any other employee would.

And because there was no other employee other than him and Jimin, and his friend didn't do anything else other than taking control of the administration of the place.

—I did boxing, but it wasn't my thing —Jason laid back—. Guess when you're good, you keep working on it. And if you aren't, you find a 9 to 5 job that gives you stability. My friend here —he mentioned, pointing at Y/n with his head— has an office job, but is everywhere except her office.

And Jungkook knew exactly why.

—You talk like a grandpa, I don't know how Kelsey is keeping up with you —Y/n chuckled.

—Kelsey? —Jungkook frowned.

—Oh, my wife —Jason answered with a lovely smile, showing off his golden ring.

Suddenly, all worries vanished away from Jungkook's body when he learnt about that significant other. If he knew something about Y/n, it was that she'd never stoop so low to get in the middle of a relationship, and even less while knowing the other person. The night she came back covered in wine was the best proof of it.

—Oh, I have to leave —Jungkook suddenly pulled his hand away from her, reaching to his phone with the other—. My partner wants to have a quick meeting.

—Sure. It was nice meeting you —Jason smiled.

—I'll see you later.

Right after saying that, Jungkook dropped a fast peck on her lips, that she didn't see coming -and which she didn't quite assume until she saw him walking out the restaurant.

—Did he just leave without paying? —Jason wondered at her left.

—That's exactly what he did —she sighed.

—Well, I like him better than the asshole of Kyle.

—We aren't dating —Y/n rushed to deny.

—Sure. You're just neighbors who kiss each other, get jealous, and who play footsie under the table.

—What? —her eyebrows lifted, while her cheeks started burning.

—It's not like you're the best at pretending, and he wanted to make it quite obvious —he scoffed, sipping on his beer.

—We're just neighbors... Who sometimes fuck each other, and who're just getting on well —she shrugged—. And I might be liking him a bit.

—No shit, Sherlock —while he laid back to look at her, Jason crossed his arms over his chest—. He's a bit shameless, but I like him for you. At least you know you won't be bored with him, in the good sense.

—Yeah, no. That for sure ain't happening.

They both made sure to avoid it from happening.

Shouts and jeers from the spectators blended into a cacophony of noise. Smoke from illicit cigarettes and cigars hung in the air, creating a hazy, oppressive environment, that combined with the smell of sweat and fear, mingling with the metallic scent of blood, made her dizzy at first.

Her eyes wandered around the place like they had been doing ever since they arrived, puckering her lips while she tried to memorize as many faces as she could. She felt like a cop undercover, just that she didn't have a gun, and if she was exposed looking too deep into some details she had no other way to defend herself than calling out Jungkook, who was on the other extreme of the warehouse.

His eyes never left her either way, even when he was in the middle of a fight -which he only managed to win because the other fighter was worse than him. That feeling of something happening to her while she was there had his heart at the top of his throat.

It was a bad idea to have her there -and he thought he learnt that the last time-, but knowing the way her eyes would shine with the news only worked to test his own limits and push his own rules away.

He was a dumbass.

—There aren't good fighters anymore —she heard a man rant behind her—. Jungkook is an exception, and he isn't even out for sale. He's too busy being Elijah's dog.

She couldn't be bothered about that comment because, as much as she grew closer to Jungkook, the truth was that he was allowing others to play with him like a toy, using a gym that wasn't even his as a bargaining chip. Although she couldn't judge him for it either. Just like her, he had his reasons to do what he was doing.

—I think trainers shit their pants whenever they have to send these kids here, after what happened with the Line of the 21.

—The best defender in a coma, and the best attacker dying of a heart attack.

Y/n paused when she heard that, recognizing her brother's case almost immediately. But still waiting to hear some other details that could confirm it was him.

—That guy wasn't ready —the man opposed—. Whoever his trainer was, fucked up sending him to that fight when he had heart issues.

—I lost my bet that day, but do you know what I got?

Y/n subtly turned, just to be able to see through the corner of her eye whatever it was he was showing to the other man he was talking to. Her blood stopped running when she recognized that pendant, in the shape of a cross. Two nails formed the horizontal bar of the cross, and one longer nail formed the vertical bar, with them being arranged with their heads pointing outwards and the tips meeting at the center.

—Is that from the fighter who died? —Y/n asked, giving up the act.

She was supposed to be there cheering for Jungkook, watching him from afar while he fought in the middle of the makeshift ring, moving over the mixture of dirty and dry blood every time he moved to attack his opponent.

—You like it? It's pretty, huh —he praised, enrolling the chain around his knuckles—. When you have an eagle eye, you're able to catch these things —he winked at her—. While others were running away, I managed to find this.

As much as she wanted to be disgusted by that attitude, when someone else was about to die not even thirty minutes after he reached the hospital, the shock to see something that belonged to her brother being held by someone else was bigger.

—How much do you want for it?

She was willing to pay anything.

—It's not for sale, pretty —he put on the necklace again.

—I'll pay anything.

—Well, that's another story —the man stepped towards her—. Why don't we go outside and put that little mouth to work? I might let you look at it up close.

It took Y/n to feel his callouses hands on the curve of her ass to throw a fist in his direction, shocking him at first when he didn't expect her to defend herself that way.

Jungkook, who had been watching suspiciously from afar their approach, suspected there would be nothing good coming out of their conversation, and he was right when he saw his dirty hand moving over her body.

It worked automatically: one hand on her, and his feet started moving, leaving his place for the next fight just to reach her. Her punch collided against his face and before the man could even lift his arm to attempt to hit her, Jungkook punched him again to make him fall to the floor.

—Are you alright? —he turned to her.

—He has Noah's necklace —she mumbled, with her pupils shaking.

The bell announced the next fight, the second one he was going to participate in to seal the deal with Elijah. Although he knew the second he moved away from her, someone would be back at her neck.

It was a one second decision. And he had it clear before he could even hesitate to choose.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to assure himself she was glued to his body while they walked through the aggressive crowd that was anticipating the next fight.

Jungkook didn't even bother to take off the bandages around his hands, because he knew it urged her to get out of there. But as every time he was in a rush to get out of somewhere, something stopped him.

—Are you leaving? —Elijah interrogated.

—My girlfriend isn't feeling alright —Jungkook answered.

—And because she isn't feeling alright you're leaving? Let her take some fresh air and put your ass in that ring.

—I'm sorry, dude —Elijah's hand on his chest stopped him from taking a step.

—Ten thousand dollars, Jungkook. Don't forget what you're giving up on.

That was the deal.

It would help him erase some debts he had been dragging for months, it'd even give him the chance to renovate some details in the gym. But he had to fight twice -with only the first one giving him one thousand dollars worth in equipment.

It was either money, or Y/n's safety -after she chose to lose her chill to punch somebody.

He had it clear.

Jungkook didn't answer. He only clenched his jaw while gripping on her wrist a bit tighter to get out of there.

Neither of them talked. And while at first Y/n wanted to blame the helmets, it didn't get any better when they stepped inside his house. They just moved quietly, as if their words were going to lack any meaning, and their actions were the only thing that mattered.

Y/n silently moved, kneeling in front of him in between his legs, with the aid kit next to him to clean the small wounds on his face. She had been too shocked on their way out of the warehouse to realize what had happened.

—I'm sorry —she muttered—. I just... couldn't help it.

—It's alright —he lied.

—Kook, you lost ten thousand dollars, are you serious? —she called him out— I'll try to pay you back. I don't know... I'll be giving you money every month until I make up for it.

He wanted to be mad at her, yet everything she said, the pitch of her voice, the way her eyes were tinted with guilt... he just couldn't. And that annoyed him even more.

—Y/n, that's not the problem —he held her wrists, keeping him from touching him, because he knew he'd lost focus the second her fingertips lied on him.

—And what's the problem?

—You. You're the problem —he finally sentenced, getting up from his seat—. I want to be mad at you, and I just can't. I can't get mad at you, I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop worrying about you... It's overwhelming.

Y/n pressed her lips together, turning her body to him, thinking it was the closest he'd ever been to being honest about his feelings. That was probably the weakest she had seen him since they met each other.

—And it's all your fault —that accusation, with such belligerence, wasn't what she expected—. You're like a fucking disease. When I started being nice with you and came up with living with you, it was supposed to end with me getting done with you. Who knows? Maybe a few hook ups would make it all up, but nope. It's even worse. I get jealous, which I hate by the way. And now I even gave up to ten thousand dollars. It's so fucking insane.

She watched him coming and going in his living room, nervously yapping while confessing out loud what he was after with his sudden change in attitude.

—Is it so bad to like me?

—Yes! —he rushed to answer— I was happy with my life until you showed up with your freaky habits, and crazy reactions.

Y/n got up from the floor, walking towards him with her eyes fixed on his. If there was something she found out, it was that she was stupid for ever putting her walls down for him. She wasn't scared of admitting she was wrong about him, she didn't care to admit she started liking him... but she did hate to realize that she was fooled.

—Where are you going? —Jungkook asked, watching her dragging her small suitcase from his room to the living room.

—Why don't you do what you're longing so much to do and mind your business? —she cut him off.

—Didn't you hear what I said? I can't.

—Then try a bit harder. I know that for that little brain of yours any form of effort is a big waste of energy, but just try it —she turned to him—. I haven't met anyone so childish and immature, stuck in his conformist complex, just because he's scared of change, in my life.

Jungkook felt his heart beating faster, and the air being cut from his lungs while a knot formed on his throat as he saw Y/n packing her things. He should be feeling relieved, yet all his thoughts were becoming depressing.

—Don't —she warned him, lifting her index in the air, when Jungkook attempted to reach for her hand—. Do you think I have time to deal with your emotional detachments? I have enough problems of my own to deal with yours.

—It's because...

—And don't mention that fucking curse, please —she breathed deeply.

—At least spend the night here.

New reinforced fact about her: she was a bigger stubborn than he was, and he noticed when his door slammed against the walls as she stepped outside.

She knew she wasn't supposed to go back to her place yet, but it was going to be something for that night. At least until she found a cheap hotel where to stay while the works were done in her apartment.

It was good while it lasted. 

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