#that you could take a nap at and stuff. and that's a different school so it could just be that

[nyaacatboy]

i have to say that my one pet peeve about my university is that several times i've found a Comfy Spot To Chill only for it to be replaced by like tables and desks a few months later...let me Lounge for goodness sake

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

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

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

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

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

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

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

“So definite no to hang out?” 

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

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

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

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

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

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

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

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

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are we going?” you ask.

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

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

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

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

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

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

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

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

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

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

“Your problem,” you say.

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

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

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

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

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

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

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

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

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

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

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

“Are you su-”

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

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

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

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

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

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

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

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

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

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

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

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

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

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

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

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

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

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

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

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

“Reasons.”

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

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

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

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm, makes sense.”

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

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

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

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

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

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

He nods. “You do.”

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

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

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

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

“I asked him for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

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

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

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

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

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

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

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

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

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

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

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

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

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

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t deny it.

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

He sighs. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“Mhm. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

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

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

➸ take me to chapter nine!

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

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[stealingyourbones]

*slowly shuffles a wooden box of finger bones towards you* so I have two ideas for you

So, what if ghosts like, really screw with video technology, so it all kind of looks corrupted at all times- so when Danny starts recording like a blog of daily like in amity park (maybe as a way to cope with Trauma) and he posts it, maybe people outside of amity could think it’s all just like, an ARG or analog horror- if you want to go with dc/dp here, tim could be trying to solve a nonexistent mystery

For idea two, do you know ab the mystery flesh pit? If you don’t it’s basically an unreality where a gigantic super organism is turned into a National park and it’s then shit down when the organism basically coughs in its sleep and destroys a lot of stuff-( also be warned, there is a lot of body horror involved in this, so if anyone’s sensitive to it maybe don’t look at any content!) so maybe Giant Danny is taking a nap and some villains find the GIANT GHOST TAKING A SLEEP and decide to hook him up to be used as like, a battery or Lazerus pit (if you go the route of his blood being lazerus water) and the heroes get involved trying to figure out what’s happening

oh man that would be so fun. Danny just takes a little school project 10 minute documentary of the town and doesn't think too much of it when he submits it to Youtube so he can send it to his teacher.

A week later and every ARG/Analog Horror nerd on the planet has heard about this brilliantly well produced video called "Amity Park"

Now knowing this, He decides to have some fun. He takes ominous shots of mundane Amity life and splices them between the more normal scenes of himself and his friends having fun and hanging out.

He amps up the uncanny level. Throughout all of his videos, he starts to tell a slightly dramatized version of his life, not the Phantom stuff, but his life as a Fenton.

The whole world watches in awe and delight as this refreshingly new Analog Horror channel posts nearly twice a week with some of the most stunning CGI that they've ever seen. I mean 'c'mon, Sentient food. A child living in the house of two mad scientists who casually mention dismembering and destroying ghosts at the dinner table. An honest to god crazy scientist lab with a massive portal to this 'Ghost Zone' just in their basement?! Yeah, whoever made this has an absolutely incredible imagination. (Some people are even dissing it since this GZ really just feels like a warped version of The Backrooms but it's fine, it's unique enough that it makes up for it.)

------

I am a hoe for any and every topic that Wendigoon talks about in his videos so I very much so know about the Mystery Flesh Pit. (Video is linked but be warned; Benji isn't joking when they say that it's a LOT of body horror.)

I'd like to propose that Danny isn't even on earth, he's on a different planet that has collected his blood and harnessed his core for energy on a massive scale, helping create and produce items that benefit their world greatly.

To Danny, Their mining, harvesting, and energy draining efforts are the equivalent to bacteria moving around his body. He's so massive that this civilization isnt impacting him in the slightest.

The JL get called because this strange planet superorganism is now moving and it's causing the destruction of an entire civilization.

They fly over to the planet and they notice something very very wrong with the shape of the planet.

First and foremost, the two eyes spanning the equivalent width of Texas that stares up at their ship is new.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Secret: cbf!soap x f!reader

Johnny was grabbing the items out of his locker and packing up his backpack to meet you after school when his locker was slammed shut.

“Holly.” He gave her a sharp glance and she smiled.

Holly was part of The Mean Girls, the one who had stolen your bunny all those years ago, the one he called a daft cow and had no interest in even if she seemed to be interested in him.

Usually Jonny just ignored her, unless she was bullying you then he was stepping in to tell her to go away as politely as possible.

“Who are you going to prom with?” She wondered and he raised an eyebrow.

“You know who.” He scoffed and opened his locker again.

“Really? I thought you both were on the rocks.”

Johnny paused, his heart sinking and his stomach twisting up in knots. He didn’t think there was anything going on between the two of you but maybe he was wrong.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You two have been acting different around each other for a while now.”

He stared at her with confusion. There was nothing different between the two of you, nothing! You two still hung out all the time, still joked around and laughed…yeah maybe he stopped telling you about some of the serious stuff that goes on in his mind but that didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

“Look, we’re not friends but even I can tell that whatever’s going on between you has you a lot more quiet than usual.” She explained and he clenched his jaw. “Whatever’s going on she’s got you acting different.”

“Nothings going on…” he trailed and before he could stop the words were falling out his mouth. “I’m going into the military and she doesn’t like it.”

“Wait, you’re actually going?”

Johnny froze and swallowed hard.

He hadn’t told anyone, not even his own mother, that he had been accepted into the military. In just a month he’d be going into the military and starting his career.

He was going to tell you. He was just going to sit later rather than sooner. He had to come up with a way to tell you and to prepare himself for when you’d be disappointed.

And now he told Holly, the girl who had it out for you since fucking kindergarten.

“It doesn’t matter.” He slammed his locked and gave her a stern look. “Don’t tell her anything about this.”

“You know I wouldn’t be upset with for going into the military.”

Johnny felt disgust but said nothing as he walked away from her. He didn’t want to be with anyone else, he couldn’t imagine himself with anyone but you.

You were the only one he wanted, you were the only one he could imagine a life with in the future, despite your disapproval.

Maybe that’s why he put off telling you, he so badly wanted your support on his decision because it was the only thing that truly mattered to him. But it was hard to ask for it when he could hardly support you decisions, or lack thereof, for your future.

You didn’t have a plan, he knew you didn’t. For some reason it irritated him to no end because why didn’t you have a plan? Shoudlnt you want to have something to follow?

A bad part of his brain thought that you didn’t have one because you were hoping he’d give up on the military so you could follow him wherever he went. It was irrational but that’s what it looked like to him.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he nearly didn’t hear you call his name.

“Hey, you okay?” You wondered with concern.

You were always so good at reading him and he always had trouble hiding things from you.

Tell her, he demanded in his mind. Tell her now.

“I’m exhausted.” He smiled and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “We should take a nap when we get to your place.”

You smiled and his chest hurt. He was going to miss that.

He was going to miss you.

“I’m glad you suggested it because I would’ve too.”

A/n: rewrote this three times HAHA love that for me

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie

[slytherheign]

SNOW ON THE BEACH | tasm!peter parker

PREQUEL TO A WALK TO REMEMBER.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: you start to see your best friend in a different way at the same time the snow starts to fall.

WARNINGS: doubts and unspoken feelings. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. as written above, this is a prequel to another fic of mine but this can also be read as a standalone. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC but if you see something that pertains to a specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS SOTB (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was late November and the neighborhood was gearing up for the upcoming winter season. Normally, you would stay home for moments like this, staring at the window as you waited for the snow to fall. However, this time was different because your best friend had other plans. He all but pulled you up from your couch where you were peacefully taking a nap to lead you out of your house. Apparently, for him, this kind of weather was perfect for walking along the beach.

You and Peter have known each other ever since you were children. The moment your family moved into his town, he was the first kid who wanted to be your friend. There was no question why you instantly became best friends. Since then, you have shared everything from secrets to dreams. 

Always inseparable, rarely without the other.

Always been “just best friends.”

But a shift has shown itself—unspoken feelings that simmered beneath the surface that neither of you fully understood or dared to acknowledge. For you, it started in your third year of high school, and since then have lingered every time you were with him. As much as you hoped it would go away at some point, it unfortunately didn’t. And it certainly wouldn’t go away right now as he walked with you along the coast, your hand in his, intertwined.

The beach was secluded under the cloak of night, where the only light came from the stars scattered across the sky like pocketfuls of glitter. The ocean whispered against the shore, the waves reflecting the moonlight in a soft, silver glow. The air was cool, almost cold, but not unwelcoming, like the gentle feeling of his hand. The atmosphere is filled with indescribable magic, a surreal blend of familiarity and something entirely new. You recognized a spot you used to visit as kids—a large driftwood log, half-buried in the sand—and nudged Peter to look at it.

“Remember when we used to sit at that spot when we were kids?” you asked.

“How can I possibly forget? That’s where you first told me you wanted to travel the world,” he chuckled. “Remember that spot?” he pointed at the spot to the side of the large driftwood log.

“That’s where we built that crazy sandcastle,” you giggled, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. “I swear, we thought we could actually live in it forever.”

Peter laughed, his breath was visible in the night air. “And then the tide came in and washed it away. We were probably devastated for like, what—ten minutes?”

“More like ten seconds,” you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. “We just ran back into the water, forgetting all about it.”

He smiled at the memory, squeezing your hand gently. The temperature dropped as you strolled further down the beach, sending a shiver down your spine. Peter noticed and let go of your hand so he could shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders. The warmth of his gesture seeped through, but you didn’t miss how he decided not to hold your hand again.

“Thanks, Pete,” you said softly. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the kind gesture but you already missed holding his hand. For a second, you were about to reach for his hand but he pulled it away from you to stuff it in his jeans.

In the quiet of the moment, you felt a sudden ache in your chest. You turned to look at him but he was staring straight ahead. He seemed deep in thought and you didn’t bother interrupting him. Besides, thoughts of your own began to find their way into your head at the same time. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you lately. Every time you see him, you feel this… weird flutter in your chest. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t understand it. You have been best friends for so long. He was always there, always the one you could count on, always the one who made you laugh when you were feeling down. But now… now it felt different. You couldn’t help but notice the little things when he was around. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. And when he wasn’t around, you’d find yourself missing him more than you ever did before. But missing your best friend was normal, right?

But then, why did it hurt so much every time you saw him with someone else? Why did it feel like your heart was being squeezed when he talked to other girls? You should be happy for him, you should want him to be happy. But instead, you feel… jealous? Was it jealousy? You didn’t even know… but you hated it. You hated that you felt this way because it didn’t make any sense.

Life was emotionally abusive but he was the one guiding light that gave you inspiration to wake up every day. You’ve been through everything together, from heartbreaks to triumphs, and you always leaned on each other for support—because that’s what best friends did.

Just best friends. It was all you've ever been.

So, why couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would be like if… if you were more than that? What would it feel like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to look into his eyes that were reminiscent of flying saucers from another planet for hours, to know the feeling of his lips on yours? But then, what if you were wrong? What if this was just some passing thing, and you would ruin everything by saying something? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you lose him? You couldn’t stand that. You couldn’t stand losing him. But if you didn’t say anything, how would you ever know? How would you ever figure out what these feelings were? Maybe… you were just overthinking everything. Maybe this was just a phase that would pass if you just ignored it long enough… but what if it wasn’t? What if this was something real, something worth risking everything for?

You wished you could figure out what your heart was trying to tell you. Because right now, it felt like it was screaming, and you were too scared to listen.

You just wished you knew what to do. 

Then, unexpectedly, delicate flakes began to fall from the darkened sky, dancing down like tiny stars coming to rest on the earth. At first, it felt unreal—a gentle winter blanket spreading across the beach, contrasting the warm feeling that was in your chest. Other than the falling snow, the sky above was clear, except for a faint, otherworldly glow on the horizon, it reminded you of the aurora borealis, though neither of you have ever seen it in person.

“It’s snowing,” Peter whispered as he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. The snow gathered in his tousled hair, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his astonishment. You both paused, turning your faces to the sky, letting the soft flakes melt on both of your skin. 

“Snow on the beach,” he mused.

“I know. It’s weird… but beautiful,” you replied.

Peter looked at you without you noticing, catching a fleeting moment when the moonlight seemed to illuminate your face from within, making your features soft and almost ethereal. He smiled.

“It is beautiful…” he agreed. 

You turned your face just to see him staring at you.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, everything around the two of you faded into a serene silence. You saw that the same wonder you had was reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, all your doubts were cast aside. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never noticed before, a silent question that mirrored your own feelings. 

Peter reached out, enveloping your hands with his. The touch was electric, sending a shockwave of awareness through both of you. You paused, holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak, as if knowing that this moment might shatter everything between the two of you.

The snow fell heavier and your hearts synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. You shared a knowing smile, the kind that held a thousand unspoken words as you both realized what was happening.

Peter broke the silence first, his voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, the words hanging in the air like the snowflakes drifting down. He hesitated, searching for the right way to express the feelings in his heart. “If we could… be more?”

You felt your heart race at his words, a warmth that was stronger than any chill of the winter night spread through your body. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, nervous yet elated. 

It was as if, for the first time, you were seeing each other in a new light, one that revealed what has always been there but was hidden beneath layers of friendship. It was beautiful, but also terrifying, like seeing snow on the beach—something that you felt shouldn't exist, yet here it was, impossibly real.

“Maybe we could try?” Peter suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d like that,” you replied, smiling.

In an instant, everything changed. The world blurred, the periphery fading away until all that existed was the space between you. The stars, the moon, the endless ocean—they all receded into the background, insignificant compared to the look you shared. At that moment, everything clicked into place. The memories of your secret smiles and late-night conversations flooded back, but now they carried a different weight. 

“So…” he started. “Be mine?”

Peter raised a hand to brush a snowflake from your hair and you leaned into his touch with your heart pounding.

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation.

As the snowflakes continued to drift down, you leaned into each other, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time—gentle, hesitant, but full of the promise of what could be. The world around you seemed to hold its breath as if the very stars were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

When you finally pulled away, the world resumed its quiet motion, but something had definitely shifted. The snow, the beach, the stars—all of it felt different, it was like the universe itself knew and played a part in what just happened and what would happen.

Neither of you spoke, afraid that words might break the spell or jinx everything. 

And in truth, you didn’t need to say anything more. The way you looked at each other, the way your forehead rested against his—said it all.

You continued to walk along the shore hand in hand, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet, leaving a trail that would soon be covered by fresh snow. The future was uncertain, but for now, you were contented in the knowledge that you’d found something beautiful—like snow on the beach.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

can you do headcanons of izana's little sister dating chifuyu in secret or something and the way he found out is that on their anniversary he bought her flowers and a stuffed animal and she came back home with the gifts giggling so he and kakucho went to her school and saw them doing cute little couple stuff??

Ok so this kinda ended up being a bit of a different format then normal, I got a bit carried away with this one! But here is Chifuyu secretly dating Izana's little sister!

In hindsight maybe you had made a mistake, hiding your relationship with Chifuyu was no easy thing but normally you were so careful. Always sneaking around with him and carefully hiding from your protective older brother and his friends. It's not that you don't appreciate your brother but you're not a little kid anymore and you can make your own decisions now.

Chifuyu is such a sweet guy too and cares about you a lot. You met him through toman, the gang your older brother joined. Izana was too worried about you to leave you home alone so he took you with him to the gang meeting, giving strict instructions to his past tenjiku members to watch out for you. There was no point though because no one in toman even tried to talk to you at first, too scared by Izana glaring at all of them anytime they dared to look at you. It wasn't until the end of the meeting, when you managed to distract the Haitani brother's and slip away from them that you actually got a bit of freedom.

Only for you to immediately stumble on a tree root and go tumbling towards the ground. But instead of falling onto something cold and hard, you fell into something warm and softer. Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring into pretty turquoise eyes looking worriedly at you.

"Are you hurt?"

Just like that you quite literally fell for him. And judging by the blush covering his cheeks, he felt the same way. He'd later tell you about how it was a moment straight out of the manga he reads and how he was instantly hooked on you. 

The moment didn't last long though, as you heard Izana calling for you so you ran off before he could catch the two of you together. Chifuyu never even got the chance to give you his name or hear yours. 

The next morning you went to school but wasn't concentrating like normal, instead you couldn't stop thinking about your encounter with that mystery guy and how much you wanted to see him again. And then there he was, standing right in front of your class and getting a lecture from the teacher about being late. You couldn't believe your luck, he was in your class this whole time! The two of you had a happy reunion after class and things developed from there. But you were always adamant that Izana and his friends could not know, he'd kill both of you for sure. 

But that afternoon you messed up, it was your one year anniversary with Chifuyu so of course you were both excited. So excited that you forgot to hide your gifts when you got home, instead you came in giggling and looking at them happily. Not a care in the world and certainly missing the curious gaze of your older brother.

-

Izana noticed immediately. He frowned and raised his eyebrow at the gifts, exchanging a look with Kakucho who was sprawled out on a dining room chair. Neither one of them said a word. Of course Izana could've just asked you, but he already had a feeling that you'd been hiding things from him. And now that your guard was down, he wasn't about to raise it back up again. Instead he waited for you to go to your room before coming up with a plan to follow you to school tomorrow.

They would finally get their answers. 

The next morning, they waited until you were in class to sneak themselves in. Watching you during class was pretty boring, though Izana was pretty proud when you answered a difficult question correctly. They figured they would get more answers during lunch instead, so they climbed up onto the roof to get a good spot to watch you from, completely ignoring the guy taking a nap up there. 

-

Lunch time rolled around and of course you went to grab yours so you could eat with Chifuyu. Sitting innocently together on a wooden bench, the two of you chatted about your days so far. You were just in the middle of getting into a rant about how Ran keeps stealing your expensive shampoo every time he visits when Chifuyu slightly coughs. You turn towards him with a confused look, wondering why his cheeks had gone bright red.

"Ah I was just wondering....well I made this bento this morning and wantedtoknowifyouwantedtotrysome!!??"

Blinking, you manage to decipher what he was asking and nodded. You were expecting him to pass it over to you but instead he nervously held the chopsticks out to you, trying to feed you. Gulping, you tuck your hair behind your ear and lean in, about to take a bite when you hear the loudest shout you've ever heard. It even makes Chifuyu flinch, making him drop the chopsticks to the floor. 

You both look around, trying to figure out what's going on when you see them. A murderous looking Izana and frowning Kakucho, staring down at the two of you from above. 

Cursing, you grab Chifuyu's hand and start running, ignoring the second shout that ran out as soon as you grabbed Chifuyu's hand. You have no idea where you're running too but there's no time to think as you're sure Izana and Kakucho are right behind the two of you. Luckily for you, Chifuyu seems to have an idea and took his bike to school that morning. Lifting you onto the back of his bike before jumping on himself, the two of you speed away. 

But your peace is short lived as you turn and immediately notice Izana and Kakucho riding a few cars back behind you. You vaguely wonder what Chifuyu's plan is here but you trust him, so you just cling to him and hope for the best. 

You soon turn up in front of a house, a house you recognise as belonging to toman's president, Sano Manjiro. Chifuyu grabs you and practically runs to the front door, frantically banging on it and shouting that he's under attack. The door slowly creaks open, revealing Mikey standing there thoughtfully chewing on a taiyaki. He quickly swallows the taiyaki and simply asks "who?" 

Izana chooses this exact moment to show up, causing Chifuyu to grab your hand and pull you behind Mikey. Narrowing his eyebrows, Izana tells Mikey to step aside. Instead Mikey just stares at Izana and refuses to move, the tension in the air grows thicker as the two brother's stare each other down with Kakucho and Chifuyu also glaring at each other. You step forward to get between them when suddenly you're all interrupted. 

"Oi oi if it ain't the toman babies, we're here to take you guys down!"

A horrible time for a rival gang to attack.

Mikey and Izana quickly nod between them, coming to the agreement to take these guys out first, then they can deal with your situation. 

"Step back"

Those are the only words Izana says to you before everything turns to chaos. Izana, Mikey, Chifuyu and Kakucho attack the guys easily as you watch on. Really these guys were no match for them, even if there were more of them. 

-

Frustrated at losing, one of the guys quickly turns his attention to you instead. If he can't physically beat toman then he'll just have to hurt them in other ways. Brandishing a switch blade, he runs at you. You yell for help as you notice the guy run at you and it's like time slows down for Izana. He's too far away from you to get there in time, all he can do is run, knowing that he won't make it and that his baby sister is about to get stabbed. 

-

You throw your arms up to try and protect yourself but the blade never even touches you. Hesitantly opening your eyes, you find yourself glancing into turquoise ones.

"Are you hurt?" 

Chifuyu had managed to tackle the guy and knock him out before he could get to you. He had saved you, again. You shake your head and tightly hug him, thanking him for everything.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all"

Glancing up, the two of you are surprised to find Izana holding out his hand for Chifuyu to shake. Chifuyu hesitantly clutches Izana's hand, wincing as Izana tightens his grip.

"But if you ever hurt my sister you're dead"

Quickly nodding, Chifuyu agrees. You know he'd never hurt you anyway. Smiling at your brother and your boyfriend, you know that life will be easier now that you can finally stop hiding.

Meanwhile

Mikey frowns as he notices everyone else talking while he's still fighting this gang. You all definitely owe him a taiyaki for this.

[hanalulugguk]

You've been gone 10 years, and it's made you bitter

Part of Sweet - a Gojo Satoru mini series

One

Note: As incredible as his mind is, gege deeply hurt me with chapter 236, this came to mind after reading it when i felt like gojo satoru, strongest sorcerer, was robbed. So this my personal characterization of him <3

Warnings: none for this chapter

unedited

Even though the distance was grand, you could still hear the loud cheers and screams coming from the training courts at the compl;et other side of the school upon entering the school premise after venturing up the long path to the top of the mountain. You take the peaceful walk from the gate to the inside of the building. 

You take your time walking the halls, looking around and stepping into random old classrooms that you remember having spent hours in during your late teens. Navigating your way to the principal's office to the best your memory can serve you. You almost walk past it, the name change throwing you off. You take a deep breath  before knocking against the wooden door, you hear a faint ‘come in’ before you pull the door open. The yellow lighting of the room is dim, and poor. You notice before you step inside that it’s different than you remember it. 

There was no longer a desk at the far end of the room by the window, there was no longer an absurd looking orange couch pushed to the far right of the room with 2 ugly looking metal chairs on either side of it. It’s entirely empty. Once you step inside though you do notice the water cooler in the corner of the room. 

“You’re early,” yaga almost freaks you out from his position in the far end of the room, in the least dim lit area of the room. “Did i interrupt nap time? Why is it so dark here?” you make your way over to where yaga was seated. 

“I can see your sense of humour is yet to waver,” he doesn’t look up from the stuffed doll in his hand, continuing to delicately stuff more cotton into the small opening, needle and thread placed neatly on the mat in front of him along with other doll skin. 

“It never will, and you know it” you jab back as you take a seat next to him, you still cannot see his face fully, but you can see the corner of his lip lift. You sit in silence as he tries to thread the needle to sew the last bit back, after a few minutes of him obviously struggling you grab them from his hand, threading it for him before ripping it from the rool and tying it to secure it. He doesn’t protest when you take the neon green bear from his lap and start to sew the last bit as he watches you. 

“How was your trip here?” you shrug in response. “Same as always, long and tiresome. Next time you ask me to come, I expect to be pulled up on a trolley. These stairs never get easier.” he lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes trained on your working hands. 

“How was europe?” he asks further, “sorcery work is much less busy anywhere outside of japan. Not much to take care of there. It was good.” you hold the bear up once you’re done before turning it for yaga to see, he offers a small smile as he takes it from you. 

“Nice to have you back,”

“It’s only for a month, don’t get too used to it, don’t want any weeping when i’m leaving. “ you joke and he nods, “i know, that was the deal, only a month.” he agrees with you as he places the bear onto the mat at his knees. “I’m not used to the plaque with your name on it,  almost missed your office, or play room. Why’d you empty it so much?” you ask looking around again at all the empty space from when you were still here, walking these halls as if they were your own, which to some extent is true. 

“Felt better, more calm.” he explains as he follows your line of vision, zeroing in on the small photo frame hung up right next to the wall, the one of all of you when you were still in your first year. shoko , satoru, suguru and you as you stand with big smiles around yaga, a cake in his hand and a rainbow polka dot party hat on his head. 

You hum in response to him, “i can get that.” your voice is low, quiet, as the two of you longer on the photo for a little while longer. “So when am i to meet the students?” you ask looking back at yaga who stands with a huff, “now if you’d like.” he looks down at where you remain seated. 

“They’re in the training court with gojo.” you pull your lips into a thin line before offering him a big smile. “Sure.” he extends his hand to you and you gladly take it as he helps you up. 

The two of you step into the hall, you trailing the smallest bit behind yaga, you savor the silence, knowing that although it had been years since you’ve seen each other, you’d prefer to skip the aspect of catching up on what is unnecessary to share, and he knows, so he doesn’t push. As you get closer to the exit leading to the training courts, the chaos gets louder and louder. 

“Are they anything like us?” you ask as you step out into the sun, taking a quick skip to catch up to his pace where you had stalled.  “no one could compare to the lot of you. Worst class i had ever taught.” although it may seem harsh, you can sense the fondness in his tone, and you know, with him saying it that he cherished you. All 4 of you. You shrink into yourself for a second as you grin at his words.

“YA, megumi! You can do better than that, don’t let a girl beat you.” you hear him before you see him. As the two of you round the benches you catch sight of the source of chaos. The students were posed in 2 groups of threes. Two pairs in combat formation with an orange ping pong on each of their heads whilst one spectated each pair. You note the panda but don’t ask any questions. Satoru was seated on the bright green grass, both legs spread in front of him, wide open as he leaned back on his palm, his back in your direction. 

“Why is it that every time i come you are layed back whilst all of your students do the work?” yaga asks satoru who didn’t bother turning around, his sight loud as you catch the motion of him reaching to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The students all stopped their training seeing hearing principle yaga’s entrance.

“Well i learned from the best obviously.” gojo responds back nonchalantly as you stop right behind satoru, yaga right next to you. “And since when do you spectat? Has your trust me hindered that much?” he asks leaning his head back to look at, who he thought would be yaga, but instead the top of his head bumps your knees, gazing up at you with pure boredom before his eyes, slowly, widen upon contact. You offer him a smile as yaga speaks up again. 

“I’ve come to introduce someone,” the students whispers, if they would be called that, reach you as you break eye contact with satoru to meet their eyes. They tredge carefully, you’re not sure if it’s yaga’s presence or your foreign one. 

“Due to recent events, and some doubts in your training,” he takes a quick glance at satoru who doesn’t quip up with anything in return, “i’ve brought on some temporary help to grow your abilities in a more reliable way. This is y/n one of the only 5 special grade sorcerers. I believe she’d be great at teaching you something useful.”  

You give a moderately big smile as you offer a small bow to the students, few bow back whilst the rest either give a small wave or nothing at all. You do notice though the boy with bright pink hair and his enthusiastic wave following his bow. “Hello,” he blushes at the personal attention you provide him, placing his hand over his mouth. 

Out of your peripheral you notice satoru shift before getting up, standing so tall above you he almost entirely blocks the sun. you tone out what yaga continues to say to the students as you glance up at the man towering above you, his glasses were now off, held in his hand as he looks you over, eyes scanning your entire figure. His eyes meet yours again, and it’s almost like he’s staring you down. You stare back, just as intense small smile toying at your lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper, and he takes a few seconds longer than you expect to respond. “Hey,” it’s quieter than yours, almost like he’s distracted. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” you muse and he scoffs, “kind what happens when you take off right after graduation.” you ignore the sarcasm in his voice. “Kinda what happens when you don’t reach out when you know exactly where i was.” you retort and so he doesn’t respond, just turning to face his students, but you notice the pout he sports before he turns. Very mature on his end. 

“You’ll be attending with her alongside your classes with gojo sensei this month. She’ll help you with everything you need to know regarding special grade curses and how to fight them as sorceres of your grade.”

“That’s possible?” the girl with short orange hair asks, hand placed on her hip as she spares you an unsure glance before looking back at principle yaga. “It is if you learn it from me,” you respond, voice softer to try and not come off as cocky. “Some of the ideals at jujutsu are a little, hmm, outdated, straying away from those ideals are sometimes helpful.” you explain and even though she doesn’t respond, the way her face contorts you could tell she was a little more open to it. 

“You’ll start lessons from tomorrow.” yaga points out before, all in one motion, turns to leave the training court. You watch as he walks away with a frown, “well he hasn’t changed a bit,” you mutter at his lack of regard to you. 

“Hmm, you’d think he’d treat his favourites a little better than the rest of us,” the slight biting tone in gojo’s voice is unharmful, you can tell. “Hmm, you’d think you’d have matured past your teenage years,” you bite back and he yet again scoffs as you roll your eyes as if you were irritated at his attitude but the smile you have tells otherwise.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, 11 am sharp please.” you give a small wave to the group of students, before turning to gojo one last time. “You too satoru,” you nudge him lightly with your shoulder ut he doesn’t budge, obviously. 

–

It’s past 8pm when there’s a sudden knock at your dorm room, you slip your bookmark between the pages you were on as you place the book on your night stand before slipping your feet into your slippers. Another knock sounds and you can almost feel who the impatient visitor is. You opt to not respond as you wrap your hand around the food handle and twist it open. You briefly meet eyes with gojo before he slips into your room, waiting for no invitation to come in. 

You furrow your brows as you remain where you stood, door lightly ajar, handle still in your hand as your twist your neck to look back at gojo, white shirt and black plaid pyjama bottoms clad as he is halfway to your bed. “Am i on your property?”

“What?” he turns to ask, he’s not wearing anything over his eyes, and even in the dimly light room, his iris glow even brighter than the small bedside lamp you have on. You nod your head towards the door, he huffs before slipping his foot back into his slipper before stepping back outside the entrance to your room. He stood before you, eyes fixed on the cieling as he obviously throws an inner tantrum.

“Can i come in?” he mumbles and you wait a beat for him to continue, when he doesn’t you help him. “Please,”

“Please,” he repeats almost before you’re done, and you open the door fully, he wastes no time in stepping inside again, making his way to your bed, kicking his slippers off before face planting onto the mattress. 

“Oh please, treat my room as your own.” you mumble and he kicks his foot once to help him sit up on your bed as you make your way to your bed, sitting where you were, back against the headboard. He shifts in his spot to turn and face you. “What are you doing here?” he asks blankly as you pick your book back up, collecting your knees up to your chest and pulling the covers onto your legs to cover them. 

“Do you still only listen to yourself when you talk?” you ask placing your book in your lap and looking over at gojo. His face is hard, his breathing mildly laboured, like his heart is beating faster than usual. His brows are furrowed enough to form creases on his forehead as his eyes pierce into yours. 

He doesn’t grant you an answer, you pull you lips in a tight line whilst letting out a sigh, “i’m here to help. Yaga wanted me to come around for a bit, says the sudden surge of special grade curses was worrying him.”

“I’m capable of managing my students.” he fights back making you place your book aside, “no one said you can’t. I’m only here to help.” you explain, voice soft. You can tell he’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, quite possibly since this morning and it’s been brewing since. 

His brows cease a bit, un-creasing only slightly as he averts his gaze to the crumbled sheets beneath him. Picking at the stray thread in his pant leg. You grant him silence, a chance to bring up what’s actually bothering. You watch him, his slow blinks, his ever changing expression as he seems to be turning things over in his head, the way he starts picking at his palm aggressively, that’s when you intervene. 

You reach over to place your hand over his fidgeting one, he stops instantly. “Don’t,” you say, slowly removing his hand and taking a quick look at his palm. 

“You didn’t reach out.” he points out and you hum, rubbing your thumb over the slightly pink skin of his palm. “Neither did you,” you respond back and he retreats his hand back from yours, tucking them under his crossed legs. 

“I’ve always told you wasn’t planning on staying around.” you point out and he huffs, “though that would’ve changed, after everything,” you know what he’s referring to. 

“Nothing would have changed that. You know it.” you’re not mean, he can tell you’re only being honest. “You’ve been gone 10 years.” he points out and you smirk lightly, “and it’s made you bitter.” 

“I’m not bitter,” he defends, straightening his back as you raise your brows. “Upset?” you ask and he scrunches his face up, “no,” he defends once again, eyes boring into yours. “Hmm, what about yearning? Did you yearn for me satoru?” a light blush raises to his cheeks as he tsks in fake annoyance before getting off the bed as you gloat at his frustration, your grin reaching your eyes as you realise gojo is still as easy to affect as he used to be.

You watch as he paces around slowly, looking at all the things you had laid out from your unpacking. “Why didn’t you put anything up? The walls look boring?” he asks as he scans the bare walls of the room.

“I’m not staying long, there’s no need.” you lean back against the headboard as you watch him observe the space, curious as always. “How long are you staying?” 

“You really don’t listen huh?” you mock and he ignores as he picks up the small matrioshka doll on the vanity, opening it as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find in it. 

“A month,” you respond after a few moments of silence, he turns to you, staring you down once again. “Just a month?” he asks and you offer a small smile as you hum in response. He doesn’t follow up, instead busying himself with placing the matrioshka doll down to look through your bottles of serums and moisturizers you laid out.

And again, you give him his moment, as he mindlessly rolls the bottles around looking between them as if he was memorizing them, before speaking up again. 

“I missed you too,” he scoffs but doesn’t turn around. “I never said i missed you,” he mutters, voice low as he places the bottle down and turns to you. “You don’t need to say it. I can feel it.” you tease and he doesn’t sass you. His feet bringing him to the side of the bed you were at as he stands above you. 

You look up at him as he simply stood, staring at you. His hand twitches at his side before he reaches up to twirl a small strand of hair between his fingers, you don’t stop or question him. His thumb caresses right under your jaw as he takes a quick glance at your lips. “Are you still mean?” he asks and it doesn’t take you more than a second to register what he means. “Yes.” you respond making him huff aggressively before stomping his way to your door. you‘re in a fit of laughter as you are left staring at the door he slammed on his way out of your room.

You shake your head as your laughter dies down, you place your book on your nightstand, too worn out to continue reading, and turn your light off before slipping under the cover. Unable to remove the smile off your face from seeing one of the people closest to you after so many years.

pending; chapter 2

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if u enjoyed this, consider liking/reblogging to support <3

[lvnleah]

007. | Christmas

word count: 2.2k

find the masterlist here!

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December 24th 2023 | 25 weeks & 3 days pregnant.

Ever since you were little, you’d always dreaded Christmas time. You could remember vividly how you’d felt as a child.

All of your friends came into school after the holidays, talking about everything they got whilst you had to lie about what you had received.

If you were lucky, you and your brother got to go see your grandma who’d spoil you rotten but that was rare. Your brother tried to make it enjoyable for you despite being only five years older.

When you met Leah at sixteen, you soon became a part of her family's Christmas celebrations. It had started one year when Amanda and Berny, Leah’s grandma, had found out you were spending Christmas alone and invited you to join their celebrations.

Every year since then you had joined Leah’s family on Christmas Eve and day at her childhood home. The first year felt overwhelming for a sixteen-year-old.

You were overwhelmed with how much love everyone had shown you and all of the presents they’d gotten you. Everyone had gone out of their way to ask Leah what you liked and bought exactly what you liked, not just some random stuff like your parents did.

The first Christmas you’d spent with Leah as a couple wasn’t any different except for the fact that you’d done ‘couple’ things that year and had done ever since. You’d always shared her childhood bedroom but that year you’d shared her bed and went on many Christmas-themed dates.

This year though, felt extra special because it was the last Christmas you and Leah were spending together as just you two before you welcomed your baby boy. Leah had driven you down with all of your suitcases to her mum's house a couple of days ago and it was now Christmas Eve.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Leah asked you, placing a kiss on your shoulder as you woke up from your nap.

You placed your hand on hers that was draped over your bump as you nodded your head, “Yeah, that nap was amazing! What time is it?”

“Six o’clock, everyone’s getting ready for the Christmas Eve walk in the woods.” Leah said, stroking circles on your bump, “Jordan wants to be back before Henry’s bedtime because he’s fussy so they’re going early. I told Mum I’d see how you are.”

“Leah I’m not missing the walk,” you told her as you sat up, “We never miss the walk so get out of this bed!”

“Alright, bossy!” Leah chuckled.

Leah’s family had a lot of different traditions and one was a Christmas Eve walk every year. The walk was one of your favourite traditions, a quiet and peaceful time before the whirlwind of Christmas Day.

You slowly got out of bed, feeling the weight of your bump as you moved. Leah slipped out the other side before walking around and helping you, her hand steadying you as you found your footing.

As you got ready, you thought about how this tradition would look next year with a baby in tow. The thought brought a smile to your face, even as you struggled to pull on your boots.

Leah noticed and knelt to help you. "I can't wait for our little man to join us next year," she said. You nodded, a wave of emotion washing over you as you imagined the future.

Bundled up and ready to go, you joined Leah’s family downstairs. Amanda was adjusting Henry’s hat, while everyone put on their boots.

“Ready to go, lovebirds?” Jacob called out as you and Leah entered the room.

“Ready!” you both chimed in unison.

The walk through the woods was magical, your breath mingled in the cold air. Leah held your hand the entire time, sometimes switching to her arm protectively around your waist.

As you walked, Jacob carried Henry on his shoulders, the toddler giggling as Jacob bounced him up and down. The rest of the family chatted and laughed, the atmosphere warm.

Leah’s family were all truly big kids, something you loved a lot. Halfway through the walk, you stopped at the giant chair to take the annual Christmas Eve photo. Leah climbed to the top with Jacob and her cousins while you stayed put at the bottom with Jordan and Amanda. Her family gathered around, and a passerby stopped to take the photo for you all.

As you walked back to the house, the group gradually broke into smaller clusters, chatting and laughing. Leah and her brother, Jacob, fell behind, clearly up to something. You and Amanda exchanged knowing looks, sensing their playful mischief.

Leah nudged Jacob and whispered something and before you knew it the pair of them were racing ahead with the dogs. They ended up racing while you walked with Amanda.

“How’s the pregnancy, y/n?” Jordan, Leah’s cousin, asked you as you held Henry’s hand.

You smiled, “It’s getting better, starting to enjoy it a bit more now the morning sickness has settled down. I know I’ve still got a while to go but I just want him here now, the emotions are crazy.”

“It’s definitely a whirlwind,” Amanda agreed, “Let’s just hope he’s not as stubborn as Leah and doesn’t go overdue!”

“Knowing him, he’ll probably just be as stubborn and picky as his Mumma,” you laughed.

“Stubborn?!” You heard Leah gasp jokingly, “I’m not stubborn or picky thank you very much!”

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “Yeah definitely not! Totally not like you only eat plain and beige stuff.”

Jacob, overhearing, grinned and threw his arm around Leah. “It’s alright, sis. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, let’s admit it, I'm the better sibling!”

“You wish,” Leah teased, nudging Jacob with her elbow.

“Keep dreaming,” Jacob shot back, ruffling her hair.

Their playful rivalry bubbled up throughout the rest of the walk, they chased each other back and forth whilst you walked alongside Amanda and Jordan. Leah ended up carrying Henry on her hip in the end, making you smile at the perfect sight in front of you.

When you arrived back home, Amanda gave everyone one hot chocolate and tea to warm themselves up. As you snuggled close to Leah on the couch, you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. These moments, filled with love and laughter, were what made the holiday season better for you now.

Leah’s family traditions had become your own, and with your baby on the way, you couldn’t wait to share these experiences with him. As the night grew late, Leah’s family slowly all made their rooms, leaving you and Leah alone by the glowing downstairs. She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Thank you for making Christmas so special,” you whispered, Leah’s hand resting on your bump like usual.

“No need to thank me, pretty girl,” Leah replied, resting her head on your shoulder. “I love you and so does my family, they’re yours now too.”

“Don’t make me cry again!” You warned.

Leah chuckled softly, her breath warm against your neck. “No promises.”

The loneliness and sadness that had once defined the season for you were now distant memories, replaced by the joy and love Leah and her family had brought into your life.

“We should probably head to bed,” Leah murmured, her voice soft and gentle. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

You nodded, “Yeah, we should.”

Leah helped you up, her hands steady and supportive as always. The two of you made your way upstairs, the house was quiet except for the soft creaks of the floorboards under your feet.

As you settled into bed, Leah wrapped her arms around you, her hand naturally finding its place on your bump. You snuggled into her embrace, feeling safe and content.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” Leah whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight, Le,” you yawned as she switched off the light.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, you stirred awake, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Leah's breath beside you. Today was Christmas, and it was the last one you'd share as just Leah and y/n and not Mumma and Mummy.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Leah whispered as she noticed you waking up, her voice soft and filled with affection.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face her, a smile spreading across your face. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Leah echoed, leaning in to give you a tender kiss.

The two of you took your time getting out of bed, savouring the peaceful morning together. As you made your way downstairs, the sound of laughter and chatter hit your ears.

“Morning, sleepyheads!” Amanda called out cheerfully from the living room. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Leah smiled, joining Jacob who was sitting on the floor whilst you sat beside Amanda.

The living room was a scene straight out of a holiday movie. stockings were hung by the fireplace, the tree twinkled with lights and ornaments, and a mountain of presents waiting to be opened.

As everyone settled down to open presents, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. You went round and opened a present one by one before it reached you and Leah handed you a beautifully wrapped box with a mischievous grin.

“This one’s from me,” she said, her smile filled with excitement.

You carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a handmade scrapbook filled with photos and memories from your relationship. Each page was crafted, capturing moments from your relationship and milestones in your pregnancy that you didn’t know Leah had taken.

“Le, this is beautiful,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you flipped through the pages. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Leah said, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I wanted to give you something special, something to remind you of how much I love you.”

You flicked through the scrapbook. It started on your first date, the day Leah asked you to be her girlfriend, then your engagement and then your wedding before it finally got to your pregnancy.

It was filled with Polaroids from the start of your pregnancy. It started with the tests lined up before it moved on to a Polaroid of your very first ultrasound and then small moments that Leah had secretly captured, the last few pages were left blank so you could continue them together.

Henry toddled over, holding up a gift he had just opened. “Look! I got cow!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Wow, that’s awesome, Henry!” you smiled as he sat in your lap. “What noise does a cow make?”

He paused for a second before making the noise, “Cow goes moooo!”

“Yeah! Well done, Hen!” You clapped your hands, “A cow does go moooo!”

As the morning went on, you and Leah exchanged more gifts, each one thoughtful and personal. The room was filled with the joy of giving and receiving and the love that bound you all together. Jacob handed Leah a small box, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“This one’s from me,” he said. “Thought you could use it.”

Leah opened the box to find a tiny Spurs shirt, “Really, Jacob?” Leah said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. “You just wait until he’s here, he’s going to be decked out in an Arsenal kit!”

He shook his head, “Not if I have anything to do with it!”

You had been saving your special gift for Leah, waiting for the right moment. As the family settled down in the living room, you quietly retrieved the small box from your bag and handed it to Leah.

“This one is from me,” you said, your voice soft with anticipation.

Leah looked at you curiously before opening the box. Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a heart. The pendant opened to reveal a tiny picture of you and Leah on one side and a sonogram image of your baby boy on the other.

“Y/N, this is beautiful,” Leah said, tears springing to her eyes. “I love it so much.”

“I wanted you to have something that you can wear when you’re not with us,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “You mean the world to me, and you can replace it with a picture of Bubba Boy when he’s here.”

Leah leaned in and kissed you, her lips gentle and full of love. “Thank you, pretty girl. This is the best gift I could ever ask for.”

Later, as the day turned to evening the family gathered for Christmas dinner. You enjoyed the amazing Christmas dinner that Leah’s grandma and Amanda had put together before everyone had a little sing-song.

At the end of the evening, you and Leah slipped where the only ones left in the living room. You had a blanket draped over you both as you cuddled.

“Let me get a photo of you and the bump in front of the tree, pretty girl,” Leah smiled, reaching across for her Polaroid camera.

You smiled and stood up before sitting down in front of the tree, you rested your hand on your bump and Leah snapped a photo.

You sat down beside her on the couch again, “We could recreate that next year.” Leah smiled.

“We could. This has been the best Christmas,” you said quietly to Leah as you sat together, her hand resting on your bump.

“It’s only going to get better,” Leah replied. “Next year, we’ll have our little boy with us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. As the night drew to a close, you and Leah made your way upstairs, the house quiet and peaceful. You slipped into bed, feeling Leah’s arms wrap around you once more.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” Leah whispered, placing a kiss on your temple.

“Goodnight, Le,” you replied, as you drifted off to sleep.

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxxvii - sugar cube

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

It didn't occurred to you that you had fallen asleep until you felt hands tapping your shoulders gently, slowly waking you up from your slumber.

"Hey, did you fall asleep here?"

Your eyes adjusted for a moment, trying to remember where you were only to feel your lower spine cracking as you shifted in your seat. It was a mistake fallung asleep while sitting on the floor of Hongjoong's bedroom.

Realizing you had let out an involuntary groan that was louder than you intended, your eyes snapped to the boy sleeping in a sprawled out starfish position to make sure that he didn't wake up and thankfully he was still snoring (and drooling) away. "When did you came home?" You croaked out as you tried to stand up in front of Hongjoong who was snickering at you, "Just now. Has Kijoong eaten lunch?" Your head turned to the side to look at the clock that had struck 2.37 so you nodded, "Yeah he ate around an hour ago before I put him down for a nap," you said as you stretched a little while Hongjoong nodded, soon moving to put his work bag by his side of the bed after giving Kijoong a peck on his forehead.

"Hey, you must be hungry. I'll go heat up lunch," before you stepped out of the room, you made sure to turn pn the baby monitor you had put on the bedside table on Kijoong's side before clipping the other on your jeans. As you checked if the monitors were functioning correctly, Hongjoong took notice and furrowed his eyebrows, "Is that his baby monitor??" You spared him a glance and nodded, "Yeah, I've been using it this whole time when I need to do stuff when Kijoong is asleep. I'll go get food ready for you," with that, you left the room.

Hongjoong couldn't help but stare in awe of the way you're taking care of his son with what he could only see as expertise and affection. Though he wasn't that attentive, he noticed the shift in the way you cared for Kijoong. You still held a firm hand but you seem to be more nervous, cautious, even paranoid to leave him all alone. While Hongjoong appreciated you staying at his place to care for Kijoong, he wonderee why you volunteered in the first place. You may have your own reason and he wouldn't dare pry if not needed, but it did made him wonder if this was what Kijoong's own mother do had she been around for this situation. That is... Had she even been around for Kijoong, would he still have pnes?

Trailing behind slowly, Hongjoong watched the way you move around his apartment. Over the course of a month, you had made several changes in his place to the point that it didn't feel like his apartment anymore. It felt like a home. There were more proof of life what with scattered toys that weren't there because Kijoong would usually be at the hospital daycare after school, his stove now have scratches and his pots and pans have scorched bottoms. To add to that, his home smells different. It smells like warmth that spreads through his chest.

"You look like you're deep in thoughts," Hongjoong jumped at the sound of your voice. Though you had your back on him, you talked like you were watching him this whole time. "I'm..." he was trying to come up with an answer but he couldn't think of any. Even when you turned around to place the soup you made on the table, he was still standing there just staring. You walked around the table and pull up the chair he usually sat on, patting it twice, "Come on, sit down, I'll get you some rice," you said and he obeyed.

Once seated, his gaze shifted to the food before him and without thinking, he blurted out, "Is this what having a woman in the house feels like?" Your hand froze mid-scoop of rice, surprised at what he said. "I... I was just wondering about Kijoong's mom," Hongjoong continued. It was the first time he had mentioned Kijoong's mom ever since you started working there.

You were silent when you closed the rice cooker's lid and even as you placed the bowl in front of Hongjoong and sat across him. You were curious, sure, and you've never really had the opportunity to ask him. Thinking about how it was just the two of you and Kijoong was asleep, you decided to ask. "What happened to Kijoong's mom anyways?"

To be frank, you expected him to be taken aback, pausing momentarily, something. But Hongjoong simply chuckled as he reached for a sausage from one of the banchan plates spread in front of him. "Her name was Seo Aejeong and I met her at the hospital by accident the first year I became a resident. She said she was waiting for a friend who's seeing a psychiatrist there and we ended up talking and even exchanging numbers. She mentioned how she wanted to become a doctor too but ended up going against it because she wanted to have a family of her own and being a doctor meant she couldn't dedicate her time to tend to her children even though she had the capabilities. I found that admirable and we started seeing each other outside the knowledge of anyone at the hospital and... Around four months later... Well..." "Even doctors forgot protection, huh?" you teased, causing his face to flare red in embarrassment, "It broke, okay?" he huffed, shoving a rolled omelette in his mouth and chewing aggressively like how Kijoong would when you told him he couldn't have chocolate before dinner.

"We both agreed to have the baby because we were on the same page on most things and after further discussion, we were financially able to anyway. But shit fell apart when I brought her to her first check-up," he sighed and you could tell that what he wanted to say next was more baffling than it is painful. "There, I found out that she wasn't even who she said she was. See, when I met her, she told me that her name was Seo Aejeong, turns out, her name was Kang Minhee and she was the patient of Mingi's Attending and mentor. The life she told me about was half true and half a lie which was made so because she has Borderline Personality Disorder which causes delusion. In this case, she believed that she wasn't Kang Minhee, she believed that she was Seo Aejeong, a girl who went missing in 2002, the same day Kang Minhee got separated from her nanny when they went to a park only to be found at the doorstep of her family's estate 4 days later. Or so people told her because she believed that her rich family paid someone to kidnap Seo Aejeong and pretended like she was Kang Minhee because the real Kang Minhee died. She believed it was so because she had no recollection of her life before that."

You were staring at him with your mouth agape, shocked that this Grey's Anatomy-level drama was part of your life. Hongjoong looked up after taking a sip of his soup, confused by the way you were staring at him, "What?" He asked as if he hadn't just told you what was probably the juiciest story you've ever heard. "I'm sorry, aside from that AMAZING backstory, what actually happened? Where is she now?" Then, that moment, with that question came pain. "I... Well, we did end up having Kijoong and we even lived together. I actually got close to Mingi because of her as he was tasked to keep an eye on Kijoong's mom and he helped me aid her condition because when she gave birth, she got into a rather serious postpartum depression. Her parents wanted to put her in a postpartum care centre not because they thought she needed it, but because they thought the baby would need the attention their daughter wouldn't give them. Nice people they are, Kijoong's other grandparents. They still try to chip in every now and then and while they didn't get to have a relationship with Kijoong, they still send us things. And at first, I thought she was getting better because she did. After a month of being at the postpartum care centre, she came home happier and it even seemed like she was bonding with Kijoong. Until the day Kijoong hit his three-month milestone, I came home after a long shift to find Aejeong... Minhee... She, sitting on the couch with Kijoong in her arms but she was dressed like she had somewhere to go with a paper that signed her parental rights away on the table. She told me that her giving birth to Kijoong was cathartic because, as she said, he allowed her to leave Seo Aejeong behind and move forward as Kang Minhee for her own well-being," he said, smiling bitterly.

You were not one prone to serious violence but at that moment, you really do want to find whoever that Seo Aejeong/Kang Minhee is and beat the living shit out of her. It was one thing to get pregnant accidentally, but it was a whole other thing when she gave birth and realized it was a "cathartic" experience that allowed her to "move on" with her life. Who the fuck does that?

You slammed your hand on the table, effectively causing Hongjoong to choke on his soup, "What the fuck!? She used Kijoong as a therapy tool? I mean I get that she has mental issues but that doesn't excuse anything," you scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest as you glared ahead, making it seem like you were glaring at Hongjoong. After managing to calm his breathing down, Hongjoong waved his hand around, "Okay, it's nothing like that. She didn't use him, the catharsis just happened after she gave birth and I do agree that she needed to get better mentally so... I let her go," he said. You couldn't help but squint your eyes at him curiously, "Is that why you haven't been able to move on from her?" Abashed, Hongjoong averted his gaze, "You don't know how it is to have someone you're so fond of be taken away from you," he muttered.

While you didn't know how it was being him, going through what he went through, you had your own experience.

Leaning back against your chair, you smiled up at him, "Don't you ever wonder why I quit my last nursing job?" Sensing that you were about to tell him something, Hongjoong straightened up in his seat, "I lost a kid and I couldn't handle it," you prefaced, "It was a mistake that should have never happened but it did, it happened because there was a lack of communication happening between the nurses and t was so stupid," you sighed. This intrigued Hongjoong as seen from the way he rested his elbows on the dining table and leaned towards you. You then continued, seeing his interest, "I was assigned a case, a kid with a blood disorder which didn't allow his blood to have a strong flow because they clot too easily so we did a coagulant therapy with heparin. His name was Junhyuk and I think he was around eight years old when I met him. He was the exact opposite of Kijoong but I'm willing to bet he would've liked playing with him," Hongjoong couldn't help but crack a grin at how you affectionately laughed at the memories of Jinhyuk and even including Kijoong in your memories. "Because of his condition, he was prone to having a stroke and he actually came in because he had some clots that could potentially risk a heart attack so he was scheduled for a thrombectomy after seeing that the heparin didn't really do much. The hospital I worked at had a strict morning and night nurse schedule rotation we were in the middle of a restructuring so our night nurses were temps. I left that night after checking up on Jinhyuk and I even made sure to note that he had surgery at 8 am the next day. I should've listed what he could or couldn't have because the temp gave him heparin because it was part of his scheduled medication so when a little mishap happened with the catheter, he bled profusely and because everyone assumed his heparin was stopped, no one suspected that it was the drugs so they opened him up and..." "He bled out on the table," Hongjoong concluded.

"I came to work only to be greeted with the news that Junhyuk had died. I basically had a breakdown and I was given a week off. They did an autopsy on Junhyuk's body and when I found out the cause, I couldn't bring myself to come back to work. I blamed myself for what happened." You had been trying to hide your tears but when Hongjoong slipped tissues into your hands, you realized he was paying every bit of attention to you. "Is that why you were so... Frantic when Kijoong choked on jello? Because you lost a kid?" Hongjoong asked, now finding a new side of you he hadn't taken into account before. "I couldn't let another kid die on my watch," you hiccupped softly. Grabbing your hands, Hongjoong pulled your gaze onto him, "You were not at fault, it was an accident you couldn't have predicted so it's not something you could've prevented. You're only human," he said.

The two of you held hands as you made the realization that you both were not so different after all. You realized why he was so frustrating to you, it was because there was a connection between you two that was amiss for a while.

"Two idiots in a room holding hands, getting emotional over abandonment say what?" you cracked the silence which caused Hongjoong to furrow his eyebrows, "What?" he asked. "What?" you teased. Once he realized what just happened, Hongjoong scoffed, rolled his eyes, and let go of your hands though the grin on his face remained.

The moment was cut short by the sound of soft sobs calling for you from the baby monitor on your hip. "Welp, that's the boss calling," you pushed yourself up and out of your chair, "I'll be back to clean the dishes, you really should consider taking a shower because you smell like cheap coffee and IV drip," you teased, moving past Hongjoong only for him to grab your hand mid-way. You thought he was going to make a snarky remark but your eyes widened slightly at the way he was looking up at you with a soft gaze, "Thank you for taking care of Kijoong and me so well, (y/n). I truly appreciate it," he smiled, causing your heart to automatically skip a beat. Though it was the first time he had ever done that to you, you didn't feel awkward at all. Not even when you squeezed his hand gently, "It's my pleasure, Hongjoong. Really," you smiled back before rushing to tend to Kijoong who had started sniffling and trying to get out of bed to look for you.

It felt nice for Hongjoong to be able to share a person he trusted with Kijoong. For a moment, things felt real. For a moment, it felt like things were where they were supposed to be.

For a moment, he was able to breathe.

network :

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[saltofmercury]

omg yas fluffy könig can we have domestic scenes of him and reader just doing stuff around the house wearing his casual tshirt and sweatpants 🫣😍

yeah….. I went a little overboard but I love him and I love you.

Pairing: König x reader

A/N: hope you like :)

Summary: domestic scenes of your week with König.

"Life”

When König comes back home, he falls back into routine with you…

Monday:

Since it’s the start of the week that he gets back from a mission, he starts slowly going back to routine. He’s already been up since 4AM at the gym, working out and decompressing from the mission. He knows you won’t be up until 6:45, so he has plenty of time to be at the gym, come home and shower. 

When he showers, he uses a citrus body wash, (because you had mentioned that orange/citrus body washes are good for waking up) and if he’s staying home, he wears a fitted white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and black socks. He knows he’s going to be lounging around the house, so he makes sure he’s comfortable.

He always does laundry on Monday, because he’s a believer in getting boring things done before the weekend. (Same thing with dinners, he eats his ‘boring’ food first, then gets to the good stuff,)

By the time you’re awake, he’s got a lunch packed for you and your coffee in a to-go cup.

Most of Monday is laundry, and putting it away, while he naps and waits for you to come home.

When you do get home, you two order take out and have dinner together. His excuse is “because you’re being hit with the reality of the start of the week, it must be hard”, so he just wants you to feel at home.

After dinner you two get cozy in your pjs and get in bed by 8:30pm. You were NEVER one to be in bed early, you’re more of staying up late but König has dragged you into his early routine saying constantly 

“You can be on your phone in bed, come on, it feels lonely without you.”

Then nagging you about 

“That will ruin your circadian rhythm you know”

Even though he's always watching something on his iPad in bed. 

Tuesday 

Tuesdays are grocery days. You weren’t sure WHY König insisted on Tuesdays, it seemed odd enough going into the store on this day, but it wasn’t until you two both went that you realized there are less people in the store this particular day. Which could be why. You like leading the way while he reads the list and pushes the cart behind you. 

Every time you pass the produce aisle, he looks at you with so much love and adoration, he gently taps you with the cart, so that you’re looking back at him as he always brings up “remember when we first met here?” and of course you do, because it was humiliating for you, but König melted knowing someone wanted to get to know him. Now look at you two, going through the aisles and practically living together? 

He likes watching how you pick the fruit and then sneak bites of grapes on sale. He’s also a punk and loves to shout things like “I think she’s stealing” whenever you take another grape. You shush him, feeling your face turn red, and he lives for this because he loves seeing you blush. 

Tuesdays are soup days, no matter the weather. König remembered you mentioning that your mom used to make different kinds of soups when you were younger and how it brought you so much comfort after coming home from school. SO he picks a new soup every week for you to try. He tried asking you a couple times about the kind of soup your mom made, but you always give little to no details 

“It’s just veggie”

“We had garlic bread with it”

“Sometimes it was chicken”

Wednesday

Wednesdays you get the luxury of working from home. It’s your favorite day of the week.

This is also one of König's favorite days.

He's up early before you, makes you a cup of coffee as you brush your teeth, you wrap your hair up away from your face, and get into comfy sweats. 

He places the coffee on your desk, and he gets to baking. König always has some sort of recipe he wants to try. Baking reminds him of home, so he’ll always bake bread for the week, and a dessert you two share at dinner. 

He needs to have something to do or else he’s constantly near you and you two get distracted. One time he didn’t know what to do with himself when he got back from a mission and he just sat in your office asking you 

“What's that?”

“What are you doing?”

“Was that the lady with the mass email mistake?”

He always walks into the room pretending he loses things muttering things like, “Where could I have placed it?”

Followed by,

 “OH RIGHT I found it” 

He sneaks up behind you, grabs a hold of your chin, and goes in for a deep kiss. You can’t help but giggle because he’s so cute and clearly soooo bored. 

You guys take a break, have lunch together, and you try to sneak open the oven to see what he made for dessert for tonight. He’s so quick to pick you up and lead you to the table. 

Sometimes he surprises you because he’s not a judgy person or will say mean things so when you’re talking his ear off about the first couple of hours of work, you hear the “what a fucker” or “that guy is a shithead” you’re always taken aback but ALSO you’re kind of happy he’s taken a little bit of a mean side to do that.

Dinner usually is made by both of you. He likes to watch you tell him what happened at work today apart from your lunch break. He loves seeing you animated, throwing your hands in the air, how your eyebrows almost touch your hairline, the way your mouth curves when you call someone “stupid.” He loves that you share the rest of the day with him even though he can hear most of it down the hallway.

When it comes to dessert, no matter HOW many times he’s made you something new, König gets so shy about showing you.

He looks at you and says “ok tell me if you don’t like it.” and you can see his nerves in him, how he will not make eye contact with you, but will focus on your lips instead watching you take the first bite. He chews on the left side of his tongue, and then looks up at your eyes when you moan about how good it is.

“Really?” he says, wide eyed

“Yes really!”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Babe I'm not” as you have another spoonful of it.

Thursday

Thursday is König day. Apart from your usual morning routine, he likes to get into sports on this day. He likes all kinds of sports. Football, baseball, basketball, soccer, rugby, tennis, even golf. 

He’s constantly watching something from any country, any sport. He also likes to have this day to play video games. He’s always playing a game online with Hornagi.

—Horangi, who he always thought was just a work friend, became his new fantasy football friend, an online game friend, and best friend.

When you come home and sneak up behind him, Horangi mutters online—

 “well game over” and König is quick to turn around to hug you and welcome you home. Before you get into a heated makeout session, you break the kiss to say hi to Horangi, 

“Hiiiii Horangi” 

He waves at you, but he’s still talking on the headpiece to König who is relaying messages to you.

“He says, hi and if we can have 20 more minutes.” König is smiling and holding back laughter while you nod “no” towards the screen and Horangi is running his hand through his hair.

You take the headset off and grab his face, and tell König

“1 hour and we’re having dinner” you smile, wave at Horangi and leave the room.

During dinner, König gets so animated telling you about all the things he and Horangi were playing today. The line up they have in their fantasy football, the updates on whichever sport they had been watching. You love hearing the jokes Horangi tells which make König almost spill his water when he’s retelling them. You’re so happy to see that he has a friend he can talk to and is interested in his hobbies.

Friday: 

After a long day of work, coming home to König dressed up in a tight knit sweater, dress pants, and dress shoes kind of makes your heart race. It’s so fun seeing him not in his usual sweatpants and t-shirt when he’s at the house, or in his work uniform covering his face. He looks so good wearing a watch, with his hair combed to the side. He always feels/seems out of place, because he’s never had to dress up for anybody, or go anywhere, but he knows dating you is important and he tries his best to take you out, spend time with you, and give his full attention to you. Plus he likes how you blush when you come home and look at him. He knows it's a rare thing to see him like this. He does like the attention from you.

König has a list of completing small things with his social anxiety. Friday is date night and you two always go out for dinner. During the car ride there, he tells you what he usually wants to accomplish. Sometimes it's small things like asking for extra condiments, ordering for himself, (which he's able to do but sometimes he just prefers you do it) ((accents)) or even just getting the attention of the waiter. So you try to help him reach his goal for the week/day. You’re really supportive of him trying to get his goal done. 

After dinner you guys walk around and eat ice cream, come back home, and settle on starting a new show.

Saturday:

Farmers Market day! This happened when one day König was complaining about the honey tasting weird.

“This isn’t organic, this tastes weird”

König went online to try and find a supplier that could deliver good honey.

After constantly searching and searching, he told you that you two needed to go to the farmers market so that you could try this so-called organic and sweet honey.

Once there, you two were on the search for the honey stand, stopped by several vendors selling breads, produce, handmade candles, jewelry, soaps, and you two eagerly tried the samples people gave out.

Now that has happened, it became routine for you two to come on Saturday mornings, get a coffee from a french press stand, shop around for things for dinner, and then get breakfast at a truck.

Sunday: 

Sunday you leave for cleaning. Sunday you love to put on a pot of coffee, put your earphones on, and just clean away. Sunday is when König gets to “sleep in.” He tried to help you one time but you weren’t exactly happy with his version of cleaning, so he stays out of your way, only coming out to either have lunch with you, or to throw the trash away. 

It doesn’t take you long to clean, so after cleaning your house, you shower, get comfortable in his shirt, and lay down on the couch together. If you’re not watching something together, he’s laid out on the couch, you in between his legs reading a book while he plays with your hair. 

By 4pm, you start to get the Sunday blues of going back to work, so König tries to distract you with lists he’s already created to help you. You two have a dinner of leftovers or take out, and spend the rest of the afternoon lazily hanging around, stealing kisses from each other, or glances toward one another.

König still can’t believe he would have ever had someone living with him, someone he looks forward to seeing every morning and afternoon, someone he shares a space with, and hes glad he’s found his person he can do all these things for, because whatever his life was before this, it wasn’t truly his life.

[harryforvogue]

a blurb where harry is a big schedule guy and yasmine is a big "it happens when it happens" girlie. they fight (sorta).

***

Harry and Yasmine have never lived with other people after moving out of their homes, and they alternated whose place they’d be staying at back in graduate school. It was always an unspoken rule that if Harry was at Yasmine’s house, she was the boss. And vice versa. 

But now that they're living together, how are they supposed to adjust and split responsibilities? More importantly, how the hell are they expected to create a rhythm?

Harry is a very structured person. Gets out of bed at a certain time, has lunch at a fixed time. Dinner as well. He considers himself a pretty laid back guy too. He’ll skip cooking some days to order takeout – or swap his laundry days with his bedsheet changing days just to switch things up. Yasmine calls him a relentless Aquarius. He's not supposed to be offended, right?

He’s always known that Yasmine is… less serious about all that. So, really, he always knew what he was getting himself into. Especially when it’s nearly 11 on a Sunday and Yasmine’s still buried in the sheets, gripping him tight to keep him from slipping out of bed despite his groaning about how he just wants to take a shower and eat something. (Probably the worst habit of Yasmine’s is skipping breakfast nearly every morning and that’s just not something he’s going to stand by.)

After graduation, Yasmine and Harry are employed at different universities, and the first few months are filled with settling into their new jobs. Their work hours are very similar, with the exception of Wednesdays where Harry has a later recitation class to teach. Regardless, Harry went into the new job with the mindset that he’d always get all his work done on time so that he and Yasmine could focus on figuring out the layout of their place still. Not to mention, Harry’s dedication to at least 2 dates a week (and going grocery shopping is NOT a date no matter how much Yasmine insists it is). 

He has a calendar in his office above his desk that tells him what days he needs to get his deadlines done so that he and Yasmine can have some time for themselves. He crosses out all the things he gets finished and circles the days he’s free.

Yasmine is the opposite. She always gets everything done, but it’s never as planned as Harry. She has the ability to sit down and bang everything out in one day … and also the ability to procrastinate until the night before.

It’s baffling to Harry. Harry’s routine is annoying to Yasmine. Really – where’s the fun in all that planning? And what if something suddenly comes up and there’s no wiggle room to fit in a doctor’s visit or something just because you’ve meticulously scheduled all your work to be back to back on weekdays.

This comes up one day when she’s working and he’s bringing her dinner to her study.

Harry pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk with his own plate. “Yasmine.”

“Mhmm.”

“If you’d gotten this done yesterday, we could have gone to the shop you wanted to visit.”

“We can go during the weekend. I can’t just align everything with your schedule to free up some time.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly tense. “We get home at the same time, Yas. If we can just finish all our stuff for the next day of class before, say, 5pm, we have the rest of the day to be together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Yasmine glances up at him over her glasses. “I don’t want to do more work as soon as I get home though. I want to relax.”

From Harry’s face, she knows he’s thinking about the hour-long nap she took on their couch as soon as she came home. 

“Right, but. Now it’s almost 8 and we won’t make it to the store on time.”

“We’ve got weekends for that.”

His mouth twists into something that’s very much not a smile. “We’ve got other stuff to do over the weekend, remember? We agreed on two dates a week–”

“No. You decided that.” 

Harry stops. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. When he looks back at her, he reaches across, shuts her laptop in a not-so-nice way and says, “What?”

Yasmine crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Well, you said the two dates thing. I think going to the shop counts as a date.”

“Going shopping isn’t a date. Having a romantic time out is a date.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is a date, Harry. It's about being with you, not where we go.”

“Have you maybe considered that I want to take you to restaurants and little getaways simply because I enjoy them too? That I like to see you have fun with me?”

Yasmine sighs and takes her glasses off. She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You clearly have a certain work ethic. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I get my work done when it gets done and I don’t want this structured, super formal scheduling of our time together. We live together, Harry. I see you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t say anything for some time, but it’s clear he’s taken aback.

“It’s not enough,” he says, anger in his voice. “It’s not nearly enough. We’re dating, Yasmine. We’re not roommates.”

Yasmine blinks. “We technically are roommates.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Yasmine knows she's pushing him more than necessary. "Don't do that."

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to schedule times with you. Won’t that be boring? Like, oh! It’s 6pm! Gotta go watch a movie with my boyfriend. It’s 7. Gotta have dinner. It’s 8, we should probably have sex before we get too tired. I’ve never had that type of schedule and I don’t want to.”

“It’s efficient.”

“I’m not having sex with you at 8pm every night just because it’s efficient. What -- are you going to break up that time too? 15 minutes for foreplay, 10 minutes for--"

He looks really mad now, his eyes alight. “That’s not what I mean! I’m saying that if we’re on the same wavelength – if we’re getting all our work done on time, then we can spend time together. That’s all! You're being way too difficult just for the sake of disagreeing with me.”

Yasmine frowns deeply. “Why don’t you adapt to my schedule then? I get all my work done too. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday’s open too – just like you.” From Harry’s expression, she exclaims, “See? It’s not about our time together. It’s about us sticking to your routine.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “We live together now. Don’t you think we should have some sort of rhythm? Be in sync?”

“That’s boring Harry!”

“It’s–”

“Don’t you dare say efficient!”

“It is!” Harry stands, putting distance between them. “This is ridiculous, Yasmine. And you have no right to say that I’m only making you adapt to my way of living.”

“Why can’t we live my way?”

“Because you don’t have a way! You get up and you just make things up! I can’t do that. I want to have breakfast together, lunch together and dinner together. I don’t want to be eating alone while you’re working just because you didn’t want to finish everything before 6. This past week alone, we’ve yet to do anything but ask about each other’s day because when I’m working, you're not, and when you’re working, I’m done with everything. You see the problem?”

Now, Yasmine can handle Harry when he gets like this. She’s put up with him before – and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t see his point. He wants to spend time together as a couple. And he’s figured out a great way to clear up time for himself. Now he wants her to follow his regimen.

But the thing that makes Yasmine get angry is his volume. He’s got no right to yell at her.

And, okay. He’s not really yelling. He’s just annoyed and getting his point across loudly. But, it’s too late.

“Clearly we’re not going to do anything together tonight so why don’t you just let me finish my work and then we’ll talk about this later.”

Harry grabs his dinner and starts to leave her office. “No, we won’t be talking about this because by the time you’re done, I’m going to be asleep!”

“Well maybe don’t sleep so early?” she snaps back.

“Why should I change my schedule to match yours?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“You don’t have a schedule!” Harry says, visibly trying to keep his head from exploding. “You do things whenever you feel like doing them. So whenever you realize you’re more than a roommate to me, find me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Yasmine alone in the room.

***

Harry can hold a grudge.

Yasmine, as fiery as she can get, has harsh anger hangovers. Once her anger at Harry is gone, she goes to find him. Sure enough, it’s late and Harry’s already in bed.

So she gets ready for bed too. And when she slides in, she waits for Harry to say something. He must still be angry because he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even turn to give her a kiss.

Yasmine sighs to herself. He’s the one who never likes to go to sleep angry, so she inches closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Harry.”

No answer.

“Harry?”

Nothing.

He’s not wrong, but she’s not either. So she sits up and pokes his biceps hard to wake up just in case he’s already out. When he offers her nothing, she huffs and rolls her over him, looking at him sideways with half her body draped over his arm. 

“Hey.” She goes back to poking, this time on his face. “Hellooooooo.”

“What are you doing?” he grumbles, turning his face away. Yasmine finishes rolling over so she’s now on his side, looking up at him. She nearly tumbles off the side of the bed, but Harry’s quick arm on her waist prevents that.

"Yasmine," he hisses.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to. Go back to your side."

“Oh come on. No going to sleep angry, remember?”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed. We can definitely go to sleep annoyed. In fact, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

“Hmm, no we can’t.” She tangles her legs with his. “Harry. Look. I understand what you’re saying. But I’m not going to apologize. I don’t think we’re that type of couple that needs to do everything together.”

“Not what I was saying but thanks for showing me you were listening."

She rolls her eyes. “I get that you want to spend time together, but don’t you think blocking out certain hours of the day is kind of ridiculous? It's so military."

"Military?"

"You get what I mean."

“Yasmine, if you had a 9 to 5 job, what time would we have to be together?”

“That’s not fair considering we don’t have 9 to 5s.”

“Say we did.”

“We’d have time after 5 and weekends.”

“Wouldn’t that be a schedule?”

“Well I don’t imagine we’d do something every day. I love you, but I do need to be away from you sometimes.”

Harry’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes again. “Goodnight.”

“Hey wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Yasmine laughs, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only mean that we’d get sick of each other.”

“I’d never get sick of you.”

“You’re saying that now but if we’re attached at the hip, then I’m totally sure–”

Harry’s eyes open and he grabs Yasmine’s face, tugging her close. “Never,” he says, voice deathly quiet. “I’d never get sick of you.”

She stops laughing, eyes wide. Something flutters in her chest. And…elsewhere too.

"Fine," she says, all breathily. "It would be a schedule, but only because we'd have no other option. We have flexibility as professors. We have more time, but more work load we bring home. It's not the same thing."

The hand on her waist tightens and suddenly she’s beneath him, his entire body hovering over hers. He lets go of her face, but leans down to kiss her instead. She holds him tight, her fingers tangled in his long curls that keep falling into their faces and tickling them.

“Harry,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Why are you so worried about us spending time together, hm?”

“I haven’t had a single meal with you all week, and I just remembered that you spent Sunday catching up on work, which is unfair because I forced myself to finish all my work so that I could have time for you. I don’t want to be the only one doing that.”

Yasmine sighs. “Harry, I’m not working just to avoid you.”

“I know that. And I know that us living together is enough for you. That sleeping and waking besides me is good, but it's not nearly enough for me.” Then, quietly, “I’m being petty about how you get your work done. But Yasmine, I didn't ask you to move together with me just so I could see you every day. I want a life with you." He traces her cheek gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And you’re right – we don’t have a 9 to 5 but is it so wrong for wanting to cut out a part of my day just for us? No talking about work. Just you and me, with a lot of this, preferably.” He kisses her again.

She's getting all mushy inside again. “It’s not wrong,” she whispers. “It’s not.” She wraps her legs around him, making him lean all her wait onto him. He holds his out against the mattress to stop himself.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No. Lay on me."

Harry does so, just for a total of five seconds until she’s gasping for air. Satisfied, she rolls out from under him and lets him lay comfortably. She straddles him then, bracing her hands on his chest. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her thighs. “Let’s.”

“How about this: no talk of work after 7.”

“6.”

“Done.”

“And I will try my best to finish all my work by then also, but in the event I cannot due to circumstances overlooked in your calendar, you have to leave me to finish up so that I can come back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Done. And on weekends, nobody works. Don't bring any of it home on Friday. Not even a mere word about it.”

“Unless absolutely necessary.”

He pins her with a stern look. “I’ll be the judge of those conditions.”

“Anything else, professor?” Yasmine grins knowingly down at him, drumming her fingers against his chest.

Harry pinches her side. “And I will be a little less annoying about the whole two date thing.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ve kind of neglected you all week.”

“Thank you.”

Yasmine blinks expectantly at him.

He says, “Oh, are you waiting for an apology from me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Is that right?” 

She feels a thrill rush up her spine. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah? Would you, baby? Good to know.”

“Or you can make it up to me in a different way.”

He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s almost 10. I’m strictly a no-love-making-past-eight-pm kinda guy.”

Yasmine sighs. “What a shame. And to think I went through all this effort coming to bed without a bra or underwear on in hopes I’d get to–”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around her, roughly pulling her down into bed. “C’mere.”

[rotten-pomegranates-fics]

Beast

𝖀𝖛𝖔𝖌𝖎𝖓 X 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Yandere uvo x afab reader

Warnings: size difference, slight pet play, dub con, Noncon, power play, tell me if I missed anything👍🏻

Notes: this is just a little bit inspired by headcannons that holydayaria where it said uvogin would let reader switch punishment for sex and I am literally writing this at like 3:00am so I hope y’all like it and if you don’t box me (ง'̀-'́)ง

Word count: idk cuzz my app for word counting wont work

You couldn’t believe this, being on your knees for him, being on your knees for your kidnapper, being on your knees for a monster

It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, you know it but you don’t think you could handle being starved, or beaten or worse things that you couldn’t imagine, so here you are on your knees for uvogin waiting for him to come back and have his way with you

You jump when he walks in, he towers over you with a height you didn’t think humans could be, you where so lost in thought that you must not have heard his rather loud foot steps,“hey princess, are you ready?”, his voice is sickly sweet like he’s a high school bully about to rip up your homework and he’s rubbing it in your face first

All you did was take a nap, but he wasn’t happy you weren’t waiting at the door when he got home, if it was up to him you would be at the door with a tail wagging like a puppy so he gave you the option of punishment, he didn’t go into detail just punishment or you could let him do whatever he wanted to you in bed and you wouldn’t put up a fight, not that it would make a difference if you did put up a fight with his size and strength

You would have choose punishment over this most days but after the last punishment of being out in his garage and not being fed or even being able to use the bathroom in anything but a bucket he left you, you just couldn’t handle anything that would last more then a day, you didn’t doubt that you would be sore after this though

He walks over to you and places a heavy hand on your head to slightly tilt you up to look at his tall form, and you do look at him, you look at him as if he was a god and you were a lamb that just got sacrificed, not to mention the fact that you could see he was already partially hard

“Open up” he holds your head a bit harder,as if to let you know not to fuck up now, you let your mouth open and your tongue roll out and paired with having you look at him through your eyelashes you were just about the cutest thing in the world

“Shit” he says under his breath. He takes his other hand and starts to takes his cock out so he can put it on your face, he wasn’t just wrong he was thick he had weight

He wiggles your head around a bit more and you take the hint to start to licking his base and balls like the good little pet that he wanted “yeah good girl” he jerks his hips against you and you feel him twitch on the side of your face

He yanked you away and gripped your hair to yank you up quickly, it was to sodden, to fast it hurt “get on the bed” he let go of your hair and you quickly scamper to get on the bed so you could lay down and wait for him

He left the room for a minute before coming back with lube, he could never go in without lube, he liked hurting you to some level but without lube he might rip you in two, he gets on top of you and cages you underneath him

You weren’t ready, but he didn’t care he shoved his finger in you, you shout out in pain like a injured animal, who knows that might as well be what he sees you as “haha so small squeezing my fingers nice and tight” you looked up at him with teary eyes and it was only turning him on more and more by the second, of course he was

He lets out a booming laugh when he struggled to force another finger in your delicate body, you weren’t made for this, you weren’t made to be forced into stuff you didn’t want and you definitely weren’t made to have stuff forced in you “I think that’s enough, you think that enough sweetheart?”

He wasn’t really asking, just another way of scaring you “n-no please I’m not ready yet, just a bit more?” You jerked into him hopping to convince him “just a little more master please?”

“Ohhhh honey, you don’t get privileges when your bad and prep is a privilege” he pulls his fingers out and gets the bottle of lube to put a large about on his hands to lather his cock with it

He rubs his fingers up and down your slit a few times to get the rest of it off before his big angry red mushroom tip is pressed against you coin sized whole that wasn’t meant for something of his side

He started forcing it in and you swear this was the most painful thing he’s ever put you through, he’s broken bones, ripped your hair out and even let Feitan have some fun with you while he went away with the troupe. the first time he made you take him at least he prepared you enough that you didn’t feel like he was ripping you in half

“God baby your gonna snap my dick off” he gives a hard thrust that shakes your whole body and you try to kick and get away

The burning on your cheek brought that to a swift stop though, he had slapped you and when you looked up his eyes were dark looming over you like you were prey about to be devoured

In some sense you were, he was bigger, stronger, faster then you in every way shape and form there was nothing you could do if he did want to devour you

“Damn baby I was gonna go slow but I don’t think I can” he starts a rough pace and your only way to seek comfort is to cling to his biceps like your life depended on it, in this moment it felt like it did

You could feel him bumping your cervix and he wasn’t even in all the way, your definitely not walking for the next couple days

“Fuck yeah I’m about to cum” his pace keeps picking up and you don’t think you can take it for much longer “rap your legs around me now!”

He always got you to do that, you could never fully rap your legs around him but it still made him feel good so he made you do it

“Oh yeah keep it all in, take it” his hot ropes of fun where painting your walls white and you could feel that knot inside of you tightening to

You never wanted this to happen but you know your body’s gonna betray you like it had done all those times before

He was riding out his high when the knot snapped and you could feel yourself twitching around him and letting out a loud moan

“Did you just-“ he looked down at you with a confused face before it turned into a mocking smile full of teeth “haha you did to, this isn’t what I had in mind but at least ya get a good orgasm outta this”

All you could do was look down in shame while he pulled out to watch his thick cum deep out of you right before he fucks it right back in

Right when you roll over to try and get away from him and sleep the sorrow away he yanks your foot down the bed taking your whole body with it

“Oh sweetheart that was good but you didn’t really think we where done did you? No no I didn’t forgive you yet”

He truly was a beast

©rotten-pomegranate All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[thespacesoffalseandtrue]

Sleepover

jake x fem!reader

and i know it’s been long but here is this post from this anon! sorry i was mia, school and stuff. as usual my inbox is open for requests.

warnings: SMUT!!! virginity talk, jake fluff and sleep overs (:

“Come on baby, it’s already so late. Please just stay with me tonight.” Jake told you, grabbing your hand as you walked past him. You could see the moon shining brightly through the kitchen windows, casting a slight shadow along the tile. You did have to agree with him, it was late but you didn’t feel as if it were fair to do that to him. Sleep in his bed, in his arms, and not allow him to touch you.

“Jake I can’t,” you say as you sit on the couch and put your shoes on. The clock on the wall read 2:08am and you sigh knowing you won’t get back to your home until almost three. But you weren’t ready to leave when the movie ended, you were too comfortable with your head in his lap and talking to him. It wasn’t until he made a comment about both of you heading up to bed that made you jump up off the couch.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jake says again, his voice almost pleading. He moves to sit beside you on the couch.

“I don’t have any of my stuff,” you try. Knotting your hands up in your lap.

“Is that the only reason?” Jake leans forward and presses his lips to your neck. “Are pajamas the only thing keeping you from spending the night?”

“Well, I mean…” You begin to say something else, but then it’s cut off by a moan as you tilt your head back. His tongue is swirling, dancing, tasting the soft skin of your shoulder, and you all but go limp in his arms. “Face wash, toothbrush,” your words become jumbled as he moves his hand to cup your breast over your t-shirt. “Clean underwear.”

“Are the ones you’re wearing too wet already?” He asks you, his voice was deep and husky. You feel your cheeks warm at his words and the sensation of him all over your body. “Let me worship you tonight.” His fingers slide across your thighs causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You ponder your options, you could stay with Jake, allow him to worship you, touch you, kiss you. You know that’s what he means. You have been dating for seven months now and he knows your boundaries and never pushes you past what you’re comfortable doing. But you’ve never spent the night with him before and you can’t help but feel nervous at the idea.

“Jake, I,” you shift slightly away from him so that you can look at him. “Jake I don’t know if, I mean I don’t want to put you in a-” you fumble over your words, feeling heat rise to your face.

“Baby,” He says, grabbing your face, cutting you off. “We don’t have to do anything, I will sleep on the couch and keep my hands to myself. It’s just so late and I know you’re tired and don’t like the idea of you driving so late.”

You peer into his deep brown eyes, so sincere, so full of love for you. How could you even think that he would push you toward something you weren’t ready for.

“Thank you,” you tell him, feeling like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “I will stay tonight, but I don’t want you to stay on the couch.”

He smiles at you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I have a toothbrush for you in the guest bathroom and you can wear my clothes, okay?” You nod and he stands up, grabs your hands pulling you after him as he ascends the stairs.

He opened the door to his bedroom, flips on the light and begins to dig through his drawers for clothes for you. You’ve been in Jake’s bedroom before, even napped in his bed before, but this was different and you know you should feel nervous or giddy. Instead, you felt calm and completely at ease.

He turned around and had an old shirt and a pair of plaid pants for you in his hand. He walks across the hall to the other bathroom and comes back with an unopened toothbrush. You take them from him and move to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth. You know that you should probably shower but you were too tired and swore you would take one as soon as you made it back to your house.

His clothes fit you just right and smelt like him, woodsy and masculine, and you wonder, as you exit the bathroom, why you were ever nervous about this in the first place.

Jake was laying in the bed, completely clothed, and was flipping through the television looking for something to watch.

“Hi,” you say, coming to lay beside him. He pulls you close, your head on his chest and your legs entwined with his.

“What do you want to watch?” He asks you. You didn’t care, you were just happy to be here with him.

“I don’t care,” you tell him and kiss his chest.

“I told you I was going to keep my hands to myself,” he says with a smile.

“Kiss me,” you tell him.

He kisses you deeply, pulling you directly on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands move to grip your hips and roam freely under your shirt. You breath hitches when his palm grazes your bare breast. He breaks the kiss.

“Is this okay?”

You should feel nervous, you should be apprehensive, but instead you sit up in his lap and raise your hands over your head.

His eyes widen in surprise. “ Are you sure?”

He has seen you topless before, but this was different, you both could feel it.

“I’m sure,” and you were. You didn’t know what would happen tonight but you weren’t going to stop anything from happening.

He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head. He doesn’t waste any time and attaches his lips to your neck and moves down to your collarbone.

You gasp and arch into him when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts. His hand moves to the other one and pinches the peaked nipple.

“Fuck,” you sigh and knot your hands in his hair.

He smiles against your skin as he takes his time loving your chest. Sucking the delicate skin, leaving sensitive red marks in his wake.

He eventually flips you over and slides on top of you between your legs. His hair was wild and pooled over one shoulder. His face was red and flushed. His eyes met yours, they were warm and soft.

“I love you,” you tell him. He smiles down and you and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I want to,” you say against his lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I trust you.”

He kisses your lips and then your cheeks and then your eyelids. You giggle at the sensation, he moves up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You can change your mind at any time, okay?”

You nod up at him as he resumes the position between your legs. He kisses each of your hands, his chest was pressed to your skin, his was soft and warm.

His fingers were light as they played with the waistband of your pajama bottoms he lent you. You lifted them slightly so that he could slide them off. You weren’t wearing any panties and you suddenly became self conscious. You wrap your arms around your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, grabbing your arms away so that he could see all of you. “I’m going to take my time with you, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for your response and moved to kiss your lips, your neck, the valley between your breasts, down to your stomach and stopping at your inner thighs. Your body aches with need as you watch him settle between your legs. You can feel his warm breath tickle your core and you move your hands to his hair.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he takes his first taste of you, and you gasp. The feel of his tongue dragging across your clit makes you cry out because of how good it feels. The small touch has your body going up in flames, and a level of need you've never experienced roars inside of you. It pushes you past your shyness, and pleasure dominates your thoughts.

“More,” you gasp out and start to lift your hips, but he holds you down so you can’t wiggle free.

“I am going to give you everything baby, no rush.”

His tongue circles your clit again, but this time he slides it all the way down to your entrance. When he pushes it inside you, you grip his hair tighter. He thrusts it in and out repeatedly, and you feel yourself clenching around him. You needed his hard length to replace his tongue, but right now you know you’re riding his mouth like you would his cock.

He pulls his tongue out, and you open your mouth to protest, only to let out a breath of relief when his fingers take its place.

“So damn wet,” he groans, thrusting them in and out of you.

When his tongue finds your clit again, you drop your head back onto the bed. He sucks, and you feel him flicking it back and forth with his tongue, and your body can’t hold back. Your orgasm explodes from within like fireworks are being set off between your legs and cascading to every inch of your body. You call out his name as the pleasure courses through you, all the way to your toes, but Jake doesn't stop. He keeps devouring you, and you’re not sure you can take much more. Your legs start to shake, and you can’t form the words as he thrusts another finger inside you.

“You’re taste so fucking good, I never want to stop devouring you.”

“I don’t want you to,” you say moving your hips closer to his mouth looking for some friction against your clit as his fingers work in and out of you. You feel smile smile against you.

“You’re mine, and no one else’s” he says sucking and nippling your clit. “Say it.”

“Yes, I’m yours,” you agree. “I need your mouth, Jake, please.” You don’t know what’s possessed you, being this bold, but the ache between your legs can only be eased by him.

“No need to beg, I will give you whatever you want,” he says before his mouth lowers once more. He hooks his fingers inside of you, and the feeling is so different and deep that your body has no choice but to respond. A few quick caresses and you go off once again, only this orgasm is different from the last. It’s like lava pouring on you, and my whole body instantly ignites, and you cry out.

Every inch of your skin buzzes as you melt into the bed and shut your eyes. You don’t even have the willpower to keep them open, and you’re not sure you'll ever be able to move again.

As you slowly come down Jake kisses you gently along the insides of your thighs and you know with your entire soul that you want him to be your first. He stands and removes his sweat pants, you can see his cock straining for freedom against the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours in the process. He climbs back and hovers over you.

“Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you say and touch his cheek, “I have never been more sure of anything before in my life.”

His touch is gentle as he reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, but it’s even more than that.” Your heart flutters as he kisses you. “I’m keeping you.” You wrap your arms around him, silently agreeing.

“I will go slow,” he says against the hollow of your neck. “Tell me if you need me to stop, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want you, Jake.”

When he kisses you again, you gasp as his cock rubs against your clit. Your legs fall open on their own, and your body is already making room for him.

“I want you too. Too damn much.” He reaches between you and presses his cock to your opening. “You’re so wet.” You bite your lip, wondering if that’s normal. “You have no idea how much I love it.”

His words reassure you and make you relax as he pushes the head of his cock into you. You feel yourself clench around him, and he’s right. You were soaked.

“There’s no going back,” he says, and you don’t know if that’s a warning or a promise.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say and pull him to you. The moment his tongue entwines with yours does he thrust all the way inside you. You whimper against his mouth at the sting and stretch. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the fullness of him, all the while his lips never leaving yours. Soon the pain begins to fade and you are left with the feeling of fullness and completion.

“Jake,” you moan when he pulls out, and then you take all of him as he thrusts back in. The movement and connection wash away anything else and he’s the only thing in your world.

“Damn tight, baby,” he grits out, and you lift your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

The pleasure begins to build like fire in a volcano on the verge of an eruption. Jake is fighting for control and seeing him so strained turns you on. His brow is furrowed and sweat is beating his forehead as he moves at a slow and deep pace. Neither of you seems to want this to be over too soon, but the finish line is fast approaching.

“You gotta cum with me,” he says, and you whimper because you’re so close.

His hand slips between you and goes to your clit, his slow strokes of his thumb pull you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you say to him.

“Baby,” he says, hips faltering “I don't know if I can hold on much longer, where should I-”

“I want to feel you fill me up,” you tell him.

He moves his thumb faster and with a few strokes of his fingers you follow him into paradise. You cry out as the orgasm ignites in you and Jake groans your name. There’s a primal clench when you feel his release spill, filling you up. The pulse of his cock causes your body to react in ways you didn’t know were possible.

As the last of your orgasm fades, every muscle relaxes under him. You close your eyes and feel the happy smile tug at your lips as you realize that someone you love and trusted was your first.

Jake rolls you both over, and his cock slips free as he pulls you against him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, bringing a hand up to your cheek.

“I’m perfect, thank you,” you say look up at him. He smiles at you and tosses the bed sheet and covers over you both. He buries his face in your neck and you start to fall asleep. Your body is more relaxed than it’s ever been.

“Get some sleep,” he tells you, “because we aren’t leaving this bed at all tomorrow.”

You giggle against his chest and allow for the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

[chaenniz]

cookie - pham hanni x reader

A/N ;; felt the urge to write this fic bc of this lol,, i'll try to finish reqs once im done w school stuff ‼️‼️

genre ;; fluff

wc ;; 2.2k

day after day you’d find that there would be a sweet surprise waiting for you in your locker before first period, cookies.

today was no different, you opened your locker to find the familiar sight of round chocolate-chip cookies in a clear bag and wrapped with a light blue star-patterned ribbon sitting in the cubbyhole your locker had.

you reached for the small folded sticky note that always accompanied the gift.

‘i tried making the cookies softer this time! hopefully these give you a boost of energy throughout the day! - your secret admirer <3’

you smiled softly to yourself, chuckling. you already knew who had been sending you all these cookies and notes, in fact you figured it out the next day after the first time you received the sugary treats in your locker.

being hanni’s childhood friend and best friend meant that you could read her like a book. this was especially apparent when you noticed how much her writing resembled the note’s writing in your hand.

you jolted awake from your nap in the library as you felt a hand smack against your shoulder, accompanied soon after with a high-pitched voice.

"do you really have to abuse my shoulder each time you see me, hanni? you groan. "i swear, i'm gonna get uneven shoulders by the time we graduate"

hanni playfully rolls her eyes at you, ""i didn't even hit you that hard, you big baby." she grabs your wrist, "now hurry up and get your stuff, the others are waiting for us."

"yeah, yeah. i got it" you reply sleepily, gathering your things. this had always been your routine. you'd pay back some of your sleep debt in the library just before lunch period until hanni came to wake you from your sleep.

haphazardly stuffing your schoolwork into your bag, you deemed everything packed and ready to go. giving a thumbs up to hanni, she takes the lead as she heads towards where the other four girls were.

finally reaching the rooftop of the school, you laid your bag down tiredly. the girls look at your direction and giggle at your exhaustion.

"we come up here everyday, y/n. how are you not used to it yet?" minji asks as she moves your bag towards the rest of their belongings.

you just shrug, not really knowing the answer yourself, you weren't the most athletic student, but you certainly weren't lazy either. you take a seat in between haerin and hanni.

“so, are we still going to hanni’s tomorrow for the sleepover?” danielle asks. nods and hums of approval came as a response to the question.

right, it’s been a little over a month since your monthly sleepover with the girls. you and your friends always slept over at each other’s houses every month, it seems this month you’d all be staying at the pham residence.

you turn to face hanni, “does mrs. pham know we’re coming over?” your face much closer to hers than you had intended, startling the both of you. the other girls just snickered at your flustered states.

hanni breaks her eye contact with you, suddenly finding that the shapes of the clouds in the skies much more interesting. “erm- yeah. she says she’s excited to have you- all of you guys over.”

hyein raises a brow at this, a small playful smirk appearing on her face seconds later. “did my ears deceive me or did you say something else at first?”

hanni denied vehemently at hyein’s playful remark, the other girls soon joining in and ganging up on the vietnamese girl. you smile at the sight of your friends playful teasing.

that is, until haerin nudges you with her elbow harder than she’d intended to. you let out a small groan, turning towards the cat-eyed girl, “am i just today’s punching bag or what?”

haerin waves her hands up in apology, laughing, “sorry, sorry- look i just wanted to ask how long you’re gonna make hanni keep doing this.” she says in a hushed manner.

your lips curl upwards in amusement, “i have no idea what you’re talking about, haerin.”

she sends you a dumbfounded look, the smirk on your face unwavering. “i know you figured it out already so why not just confess? i see how you look at her.”

that comment made you double back. sure, hanni was a bit obvious with her slight crush on you, but you didn’t realize others could see your growing infatuation as well.

you throw your head back, “soon ‘rin, i’m just waiting for the perfect time.” it wasn’t a lie, you wanted yours and hanni’s confession to be special, and confessing anywhere around or in the school just didn’t meet your expectations.

unknown to you and haerin though, a certain 5’4 vietnamese girl was looking at the interaction you two had, deeming your closeness as anything but platonic.

you arrive at school the next day expecting to see round, sugary delicacies waiting for you in your locker. however, today seemed to be a different case.

your locker was completely empty, save for the few textbooks and polaroid pictures of you and the other girls that you put up.

you dejected a bit at the thought of hanni no longer giving you her ‘secret admirer’ cookies, but you shook it off, thinking maybe that she was just busy today.

it was now lunch period and you were waiting around like a lost puppy for hanni to come and pick you up. you didn’t fall asleep in the library this time since you couldn’t help but overthink about the cookie situation this morning.

a thud sounded onto the table, snapping you out of your thoughts, you look up to find haerin instead.

you tilt your head in confusion, why was haerin picking you up instead of hanni?

haerin notices your confused demeanor, “hanni asked me to pick you up.”

“thank you, is hanni busy?” you question.

haerin shrugs and you take that as your cue to get up and pack.

as if the entire first half of your day wasn’t weird enough, lunch was definitely the cherry on top. every time you tried to initiate some sort of interaction with hanni, she’d just awkwardly reply with a one-word answer or nod.

the girls definitely noticed the weird tension between you two, and just hoped that this doesn’t affect the sleepover that was going to happen later today.

you arrived at hanni’s address with danielle and haerin. as you step out of your car, you see minji’s car parked not too far from yours, meaning that the other three girls were inside already.

danielle rang the doorbell, the sound of footsteps slowly getting louder. as. the door opened to reveal hanni herself. she greeted you guys and ushered the three of you inside.

“where’s minji and hyein? and mrs. pham?” haerin asks, taking her shoes off.

“they’re just in the living room, we were waiting for you guys.” hanni answers, leaning against the wall of her hallway. “oh, and my parents aren’t here right now because of a sudden business trip, they really wanted to see you guys though.”

the three of you finished taking off your shoes, now placing it neatly against the others for an organized look.

“sorry if we were a bit late, we decided to go get some snacks for the sleepover” danielle grins as she holds up the bag filled with chips, soda, and candy.

hanni waves her hand dismissively and grins, “thank you, and you guys aren’t even close to late so don’t worry about it.”

hanni leads you three to the living room. where you see minji and hyein lounging on the couch, both deeply immersed in the k-drama that was playing as if their lives depended on it.

you let out a snicker at the sight, causing minji and hyein to turn towards you guys.

“you guys are here!” hyein squeals, “we can get started now!”

it made you happy to see the younger girl so excited to spend time with her unnies.

danielle set down the bag of snacks for everyone to see, “we got snacks as well, but we’re still going to bake and cook later right?”

a mixture of nods, hums, and yes’s of approval came from the six of you.

“well, let’s get started with a movie then?” hanni asks.

“just after this episode, hanni-unnie!” hyein objects, which caused the six of you laugh.

it was nearing 7 p.m. and the girls decided that it would be best if they started on the cooking and baking now.

you all decided on making bibimbap as your main course, and cookies as a dessert since they were easy to make. there would also be two groups: the bibimbap team, and the cookie team.

you expected an even split between the two groups, since there was six people. however, hyein was insistent that the groups were 4:2, saying that bibimbap is harder to make than cookies.

“we’ll let you guys go first, just so we don’t have to wait for the actual cookies to bake.” minji says before hurrying the other girls out of the kitchen.

that's how you and hanni ended up making cookies alone, but you swear that the other girls had mischief on their mind when they put the groups together.

“let’s get started?” you ask hanni, she only nods in response.

hanni was in charge of the wet ingredients, while you with the dry ingredients. the entire time you two were making the cookie dough, it was dead silent, except for when you’d ask the occasional question here and there, to which hanni replied with full answers.

“can you go grab the chocolate-chip cookies in the pantry?” hanni broke the silence, asking you instead since she was preoccupied with mixing the batter.

you did as you were asked. you looked around the pantry for the chocolate-chip cookies hanni requested, your eyes locking on to a familiar light blue star-patterned ribbon instead.

your lips curl upwards as you grab the ribbon, soon after finding the item hanni requested.

“so, you were my secret admirer this entire time?” you ask, grinning.

you set the two items in front of hanni, causing her to look up at you in slight terror.

hanni stops mixing, tilting her head down to the batter while sighing softly. “yes.. but it’s ok! i know you and haerin have something going on, i don’t wanna intrude-”

you cut hanni off immediately as she said that, “there’s nothing between me and haerin.”

hanni looks up at you again with wide eyes, “but i thought?”

your familiar eye smile graces your face, “no, i like you too, hanni. and i sort of knew you were my secret admirer since the beginning”

hanni’s eyes get impossibly bigger, “you do? and you knew?”

“i do,” you sigh out chuckling, “i was going to confess to you this weekend, but any later and i was scared you were going to ignore me.”

"it also isn't that hard to tell your handwriting apart, hanni." you add on.

hanni malfunctions for a good several seconds. y/n, her long-time best friend and the person she’s been crushing on for a year now, just confessed that she liked her back.

“erm- hanni?” you call for her name, causing her to come back to reality.

“y-yes?” hanni stutters a little.

you begin to fidget with the ribbon in your hands, “i know this isn’t the best way to ask you out, but i have to do it now or i might never get the confidence to do it again..”

you take a deep breath, “pham hanni, will you let me be your girlfriend?” you ask with a hopeful smile.

hanni doesn’t know how long she’s been waiting to hear those words. she gives you a smile that reaches her eyes in return, “of course i’ll let you be my girlfriend.”

you try to initiate the kiss first, but hanni beats you to it. she gives you a soft, chaste kiss on the lips, one that you happily return.

“usually i don’t let anybody kiss me until a few dates in, but i’ll make an exception for you” hanni teases as she pulls away.

you grin back at her, kissing her forehead. “i guess i’m really lucky then, huh?”

you and hanni hear a creak, causing the two of you to face the doorway into the kitchen.

there revealed the other four who have been spying on the two of you for god knows how long.

“how long have you guys been there?” you ask, a little dumbfounded at your friends.

“not too long, don’t worry” minji replies, a smirk on her face.

“we’ll get going now, we just wanted to check in.” danielle follows up after, leading the quartet back into the living room.

“you two better pay up! me and minji-unnie won that bet fair and square” hyein grins.

danielle sighs, pulling out a 5000 won bill from her wallet, “i’m happy for them, but i didn’t think y/n would confess today of all days.”

haerin pulls out a 5000 won bill as well, “she said something about waiting for the perfect time and making it special, i guess this was unique in its own way.”

“you two just needed more faith in y/n” minji smirks, taking two 5000 won bills and giving one to hyein.

a/n ;; wrote this one sitting and it’s not proofread, sorry for any grammatical errors or inconsistencies in the writing!

[belphegorspillow]

Could you do om boys reacting to a mc that has a cat that will yank their feet and scratch at important paper when hungry but also the sweetest kitty ever .

Hi Dear~! This is cute! Thank you for the request! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brothers + Dateables React To Gender neutral MC'S CAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

~ Lucifer is a dog person. He already banned Satan from getting pet cat[s], now he is with another cat person in the house. ~ He is very annoyed when the cat even touches his important paperwork. He did not like the cat at first. ~ Once the cat laid on his lap though...its a different story. ~ He doesn’t like cats, but this one, is an exception. ~ The cat will be sleeping on his lap as he does paperwork. ~ He keeps a small cat bowl inside the office too to prevent it from scratching his work up. ~ All in all, this cat is his pet too. Along with Cerberus.

Mammon

~ A cat! He is a cat person like Satan and Levi, he likes your cat the first time he met them ~ he will cry when he sees how his school work was torn up, Lucifer is gonna kill him for not doing it ~ He learnt how that he has to protect everything that can be torn up from the cat, even though all that he has to do is feel them and the cat will be fine. ~ He likes snuggles with Mc and the cat. But can’t admit it. ~ Place the cat on his chest. he isn’t moving! Nope thats the rule!

Leviathan

~ He is a cat person, though he prefers his goldfish over your cat. ~ He will try his best to first befriend Henry 2.0 and your cat, but if your cat attacks Henry 2.0, he will not like the cat for a while ~ He likes when the cat sits in his lap as he plays video games or sleeping on his chest when he lays in the bathtub ~ He will feed the cat a lot as to make sure it doesn’t destroy any of his stuff! ~ He names the cat Henry 3.0 secretly.

Satan

~ Cat...CAT! He is ecstatic to see a cat! And It’s Mcs! ~ He will take your cat. The cat is no longer yours. It’s Satan’s cat. ~ He got the cat a bunch of toys, a bowl with it’s name on it. None of his books are going to get destroyed because Satan is taking care of the cat so well~ ~ The cat sleeps and snuggles in his lap as he is reading. ~ One hand is always petting the cat as he is reading ~ He has cat pictures that he shows off like he is a Cat Dad. ~ “Mc! Look at them! They fell asleep on the pile of books again!” ~ He will be very sad if you try and take the cat away from him. He loves the cat.

Asmodeus

~ Cute! He likes the cat as it looks so adorable! ~ Devilgram pictures of the cat.  ~ He gets so upset when seeing important things getting scratched. This is why he prefers dogs!  ~ He will pet the cat from time to time. He has dedicated an entire folder in his phone to cat pictures for Devilgram. ~ He shows them off to his fans happily. ~ Can’t and will not clean the litterbox. You are incharge of that still. ~All in all, happy with the cat, hates it when it destroys anything valuable.

Beelzebub

~ A Cat? Cute. Though he is a dog person. ~ He finds the cat adorable, but is scared he might step on it because its so small. ~ He is always feeding the cat, so nothing gets destroyed for him. He will pet the cat happily. ~ The cat will sleep on top of him as he is doing sit ups. It doesn’t do anything, but its adorable. ~ He always makes sure the cat isn’t on the ground when he is walking to make sure he isn’t going to accidentally step on them.

Belphegor

~ Oh a Cat..  ~ Belphie is a dog person, though likes the fact the cat destroys his school work sometimes, he has an excuse. ~ He will pet the cat when it sleeps and nuzzles him when he is laying down. ~ He takes naps with MC and the Cat alot. ~ He will leave everything else for you to deal with. he will sleep with the cat.

Diavolo

~ He likes the cat, but is more of a dog person. [He loves all animals though!] ~ He lets the cat sleep on his lap, and will laugh a bit the first time the cat destroys his paper work, taking it as a sign for a break. ~ Cat is spoiled by him. Got lots of toys, Barbatos makes a special cat food just for them. They are living the life.

Barbatos

~ He is a Cat person. He likes MC’s cat ~ He spoils the cat with very delicious cat food that he made for it ~ He will sleep with the cat as he doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with it ~ He will make sure the cat doesn’t destroy any of Diavolo’s paperwork.

Simeon

~ He may love dogs more, but he adores the heck out of the cat! ~ He will make sure solomon doesn’t feed the cat poison [his cooking] ~ He pets the cat and when ever the cat destroys his paperwork, he gets a bit upset, but realises pretty quick why they do it ~ Takes pictures of the cat napping with Luke a lot

Solomon

~ He likes cats! He finds them adorable ~ Will not be happy when the cat destroys his notebook fill of recipes [Luke and Simeon thank the cat] ~ Make sure YOU feed the cat. Solomon will want to make cat food for the cat ~ You will find Solomon passed out on his desk with the kitty on his lap. ~ Take pictures of it  Luke

~ He doesn’t mind the cat. Though he still prefers dogs ~ He will pet the cat and play with it a bit. Although he will not be happy seeing his recipe book getting destroyed ~ He will carry the cat around, One time the cat came to RAD inside of Luke’s bag ‘accidentally’ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hope you enjoyed :] Masterlist