#why else would they make it such a big deal?

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

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 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, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Unexpected things you did that delight them:  

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Trey Clover, Ruggie Bucci, Malleus Draconia

You learned proper tea etiquette for Riddle  

It starts out with you just listening to him correct others as they go throughout the various teatimes of Heartslabyul. How it leads to you thrifting a tea set from a local shop is hard to say, and it’s chipped a bit on the plates, but it holds, and the lady gave it to you for a far cheaper price than she should have. But it cleaned up beautifully, you filled in the cracks with some leftover clay and didn’t even have to repaint it! It was already in Ramshackle blue and green.  

It is embarrassing when he finds you quizzing yourself on the different spoons and plates, but the smile that blooms is worth it.  

You have no idea that when you invite him over for a tea party a few weeks after, it’s the first one that he hasn’t hosted himself. He borrows the same book from the library to brush up on his guest etiquette.  

“Prefect, what are you-ah! A lovely set. If you were needing to learn I would be happy to assist! What teas do you prefer? I will bring complimenting savories or sweets.”  

You carry glasses cleaner for Azul  

Assuming you don’t carry it already or if you don’t wear glasses. You and Azul usually spend a lot of time at Octavinelle but occasionally he will come to Ramshackle. He has since seen the work that you put into fixing up the place and the furniture you've built and appreciates it a way that the others can’t. Afterall, many of his own pieces are repaired or thrifted antiques for authenticity.

Lounging on the couch while listening to one of the jazz records he brought, you take the glasses from his hand when he realizes that he forgot his own cleaner.  

“Prefect, why would you have glasses wipes, you don’t wear any. Ah, you carry them for me. How thoughtful of you, my friend! I hope I’m not putting you out any.” 

You baked him a birthday cake for Trey  

Everyone gets nervous when Trey’s birthday comes around. How do you bake for a baker? He got past the disappointed feeling a long time ago though, perfectly prepared to make his own birthday cake.  

What isn’t accounted for you is pushing him out of the kitchen, declaring it against the rules for him to bake his own birthday cake. He could fight you on it, but he’s intrigued at this point on what you will make.  

What he doesn’t anticipate is a simple vanilla cake with a blueberry filling, a light buttercream frosting and candied violets and almonds scattered on the top. It’s simple but delicious and clearly just for him.

“You’ve got some real potential here. Where did you learn to make candied violets? You foraged and learned how just for me? Ah, that was too much for me. Thank you.”  

You clean Ruggie’s ears 

Ruggie does a lot of things to ensure everybody else gets taken care of, which means sometimes he neglects himself a bit. The showers got trashed over at Savanaclaw so he asks to use yours after a particularly messy Spelldrive Practice. As long as Grim can play with the disk in the backyard with the ghosts, it’s a deal for you.  

He comes out fluffy, hair sticking out in all sorts of places, which means you can see inside his ears and see the dirt still stuck in there. Offering to clean them wasn’t a big deal to you, you have to for Grim all the time.  

It gets awkaward for a minute when he lays his head in your lap, but as soon as the cotton hits the inside and starts wiping up all the dirt and grim, he’s putty in your hands  

“I swear they weren’t that bad but-oh. Oh that’s nice. I think I can hear colors now. And your heartbeat. What’s got you racing, huh? I didn’t moo. I did not!” 

You got pictures of his family for Malleus  

This man has pictures of himself and his parents up on the walls, but none of the rest of his family. So, you work with the ghost for a long time, getting candid shots and other bit and pieces and slowly pulling them together. When Malleus’s birthday rolls around, you actually feel nervous about it.  

When he opens his present, to see the photo album, he gets unexpectedly quiet and soft, scanning through the quotes and stories written off to the side. You give little tidbits of how you get some shots, especially the times where you were sure that Lilia knew but didn’t say anything.  

Some even had him! Silver putting him in a headlock during some play wrestling, Lilia tapping his nose while playing chess, a rare moment of him and Sebek reading together where the half fae is actually relaxed.  

At the bottom are small, framed photos of what you thought were the best ones. Silver in his armor, surrounded by animals and birds alike, his sword gleaming with sunlight, looking gentle and graceful and alert. Sebek on horseback, wind streaking his hair to his skull and grinning like a madman, his favorite stead racing fearlessly. Lilia leaning against the railing of the balcony of Diasomnia dorm and watching the sunset, eyes fond and pink in the dying light. 

“I can’t think of a single present I have ever received that has been as thoughtful as this one. Your heart truly knows a kindness that is rare, my friend. But you are missing. Let us take one together. A selfie, yes?”  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand. 

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him. 

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.” 

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.” 

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--” 

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.” 

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.” 

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too. 

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters. 

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?” 

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you. 

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...” 

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?” 

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.” 

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.” 

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...” 

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts. 

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?” 

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.” 

Your blink in surprise, “a party?” 

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.” 

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.” 

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?” 

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?” 

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nod. 

“The tea good?” He asks again. 

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down. 

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.” 

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.  

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges. 

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement. 

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.” 

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.” 

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.” 

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange. 

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”  

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back. 

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.” 

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here. 

[buckgasms]

Bucky flirting with some girl while bunny is talking with natasha about something and suddenly she gets the brilliant idea to copy what bucky does! Kidnap the bitch and make sure she knows not to touch what dosent belong to her! Bucky can't be mad because he set the example for you to follow :)

Ooh nonnie you are devious 😈 I love it!

But you see my thought is this. I don't think bunny would punish the other woman because you gotta be a girl's girl in a man's world right?

BUT

There's no issue with telling Bucky you did it anyway. Just to fuck with his head...

I mean you are pissed with her, even when she tells you that Bucky wasn't flirting with her, they were just talking about some customer who did a stupid thing and they were laughing about it.

You didn't believe that, but you were being generous, she had the sense to look apologetic and scared. And when you suggested she take the next few days off, she took the wad of cash you stole from Bucky with a smile and left the club for a week or so.

You were now perched on Bucky's desk while he paced around the room, in a state of absolute panic and rage because you wouldn't tell him what you'd done to her.

"Well..." You mumbled slowly, "all I can really remember is you smiling at her and making her laugh...."

He growls in frustration and grimaces at you.

"Oh! I might have pushed her off a bridge....Yeah that's right, I took her for a cute little walk and pushed her into the river..."

But then you tut and shake your head, letting out a giggle as he kicks a bin in frustration.

"Or maybe I dragged her by those cheap extensions all the way down to the little red room and did the things you do to all those nasty men you deal with?"

You casually pull a long blonde extension out of your pocket and twirl it around.

He stalks over and grips your shoulders, squeezing you tight, his face dead serious.

"Bunny, for the last fucking time. What did you do with her? I need to know..."

You look at him quizzically, hands gliding up his expensive shirt to massage his chest, heaving under his anger.

"Why? Do you miss her? Do you want her back to take care of you? You want her to be your little bunny?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and you think maybe his head might explode. Which would be a great shame. Finally he opens them, and his hands come to cup your cheeks.

"Bunny, you know I love you. Crazy about you in fact. You are actually the first girl I haven't... I don't want anyone else, I honestly couldn't handle anyone else. You are the biggest handful I've ever had to deal with..."

You giggle and grab his crotch in one hand whilst pulling him to kiss you.

"Same actually..."

He chuckles and leans his forehead on yours, sighing in defeat as you press more kisses to his cheeks and lips.

"Show it to me Bucky. Show me your big cock and maybe I'll tell you then?"

He backs away slowly and unbuckles his belt. You swing your legs in excitement as his zipper is dragged down.

"You're crazy, you know that Bun Bun?" He approaches slowly, his big hands stroking at his heavy cock. "This good enough bunny?"

He chuckles as you shake your head because he knows that would never be enough for his crazy bunny. He presses a kiss to your forehead before nudging you to lay back over his desk.

You sigh with satisfaction as you feel him pull your underwear down, leaving you bare and exposed to him. You tilt your head and watch him, moving your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. He presses a kiss to one of your ankles before sliding in, just a little.

"Bucky, if you don't fuck me I'll never tell you where she is... Don't play with me."

He rolls his eyes before thrusting in fully, groaning at how tight and wet you are. His face is a picture of rage and pure pleasure as he ruts into your soft heat.

"Fuck sake Bunny, never a dull moment huh?"

Your giggle mixes with a groan and you grab his hands, pulling him towards you to share a perfect kiss. His lips chase yours, teeth nipping as his hips roll faster.

"You really love me?" You whisper between kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck, gripping his back as you feel his muscles strain and tighten as he moves.

"I adore you Bunny, you're my everything. Even if you drive me crazy..."

You both giggle as he drives harder, kissing and biting at you as you chase him.

"Hmm Bucky, I'm gonna.. gonna come..." You whine as be growls in your ear.

"Come on Bunny, be my good girl..."

It doesn't take long before he drags you over the edge, a long moan falling from your lips as he growls in your ear from his own pleasure.

He gives you both a moment before pulling back slightly and more serious look on his face.

"So you gonna tell me now?"

You giggle and grab your phone, swiping this way and that before you let you an even harder laugh out as you show him the screen.

"I sent her on vacation, she's in Florida...and you paid for it..."

His scowl is back and your giggles become almost impossible to control, as he pulls back and buttons himself up.

"Bunny I swear to god...."

You sit up and grab his shirt, pulling him back to you.

"But if you flirt with anyone again," your face becomes as serious as his, "then I won't be so sensible next time."

[rocketbirdie]

thoughts on gay cloud strife?

too many, actually........

He strikes me as the kind of guy who would pretend to have a crush on a girl because that's what he's supposed to do, right? And he doesn't understand why people make such a big deal out of it. love songs, romance movies, steamy novels, apparently everybody else is feeling some kind of feeling that Cloud just........ doesn't have access to. But he plays along with it. it's what's expected of him. It's not like there's any other options, as far as he knows.

but he's not interested in girls and he knows it, he just doesn't see anything odd about his obsession with SOLDIER. With Sephiroth. With these strong, confident men in their sleeveless tops and baggy pants and badass combat boots.

And when he finally gets to meet a real SOLDIER for the first time (Zack in CC), it's almost comical how Love At First Sight the scene is. What with its tender emotional orchestral swells and glittering snow and pretty-smiling hair-swooshing face reveal. Suddenly Cloud's got the giggles and he's trying to act all cool. then they're hanging out every chance they get. Cloud's inviting Zack to his hometown to meet his mom. somehow neither of them realize what's happening.

and it's over before it can even begin.

By AC, there are so many people who love Cloud dearly— whose love he feels unable to reciprocate because he never got the opportunity to learn what love is. He doesn't know that love is supposed to be more than just a sense of obligation. The way he sees it, he got a tiny taste of it one time, and it ruined his life and took the life of someone that, in hindsight, he loved.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!! So it’s unfortunately a pretty well known fact that the TWST English translation has a bad habit of botching important dialogue and lore, and even removing lines altogether, and I saw a reblog a day ago regarding that.

The original post was a fact sheet on Leona & how he interacts with women (alongside other stuff but that’s besides the point). And the reblog I was looking at was saying that the English translation just makes it sound like he’s a feminist, when it’s implied in the original JP game that the beastwomen tend to be more aggressive, giving Leona a reason to be afraid of them. And that reminded me that on the TWST fandom wiki under Leona’s trivia he said he’s intimidated by them, and every time I see that I remember that just can’t seem to find that detail at all anywhere in the English game.

So I wanted to ask you what did the original JP game say about how male and female beastmen interact with each other and why Leona would be cautious around them? Because this is a piece of info that I really would have liked to see in ENG, and I’m kind of annoyed I didn’t know about this before.

I believe this is the Leona lore post you’re referring to? Both TWST wikis (the fandom one and the .gg one) state the same trivia point about Leona being “intimidated” by beastwoman. I’m assuming this is where the reblogger picked up the idea of beastwomen being more “aggressive”, and this being Leona’s reasoning for being “intimidated” by them.

In a nutshell, the claims of Leona being a feminist only in EN + beastwomen aggression and Leona being intimidated by that is not true. The “Leona is a feminist” take was around long before the official English localization, and that’s because the Japanese text also has Ruggie (Leona Ceremonial Robes vignettes) and Cater (Cater’s School Uniform vignette) commenting that Leona is “nice” and “respectful” to women. To claim that they made Leona feminist in the localization is false. They never use the word “feminist” in JP or EN though; the label came from the fandom interpreting this bit of lore as Leona being more considerate of women.

As for the reasoning! Leona states in his Ceremonial Robes vignettes that “[Beastwomen are] already way stronger than us. Goin’ against them only brings more trouble.” I believe that someone probably misunderstood that second line of dialogue as Leona fearing the strength/aggression of beastwomen. He never actually indicates or implies that he feels that way. However, these vignettes being cited for the trivia on the wiki likely led to some confusion.

So if Leona isn’t afraid of beastwomen and their physical fitness, how is that second line supposed to be interpreted? Well, let’s think about his character. Leona is a smart guy. He dislikes having to put forth effort into pointless things, especially if he can plan ahead and avoid it. As I tend to say whenever I talk about his Big Brain Cells, Leona likes to work smarter, not harder. Again, look at this line:

“Goin’ against them only brings more trouble.”

It’s likely Leona just wanting to appease his sister-in-law to avoid having to deal with the fallout of not fulfilling her request. It would otherwise be a pain to deal with—and we’ve seen Leona act in various ways to avoid such pains. For example, he goes to Playful Land with Jack to make sure his dorm member comes back alright (or else Leona is responsible for the consequences), purposefully not choosing a vice dorm leader so he doesn’t have someone to challenge his authority, and generally has convenient excuses prepared to get out of things he doesn’t want to do.

If we want to think of it from another angle, this better fits what we already know of Leona’s cunning. He knows when to call it quits and make a strategic surrender. The most notable example of this occurs early in book 6, when he stops fighting Styx agents and willingly gives himself up to them. He also throws in the towel in book 2 and refuses to play because he already knows that his team is destined to lose to Malleus since they didn’t succeed in eliminating him beforehand. In the situation with Leona’s sister-in-law asking for a picture of him in his robes, Leona is acquiescing because that’s just the smart thing to do. Why even argue if he knows it won’t be fruitful? It’s wasted effort.

I would like to add that physical strength isn’t even the only factor here. Ruggie points out in one of his Chats that “Girls have both the grit and the camaraderie to triumph when the goin’ gets tough.” Grit refers to courage or resolve. The latter, resolve, lends credence to the idea that beastwomen are also determined or strong-willed. In which case… yeah, I don’t think they’d back down from an argument/verbal fight or a physical one.

If we circle back to the previous paragraph, it supports the interpretation that Leona giving in to what his sister-in-law wants is the result of him wanting to avoid a pointless and prolonged fight if he refuses. Cuz like… why waste that time and energy to come out of it with nothing, right?

If it was true that Leona listens to what women day only because he’s actually scared of beastwomen, then that doesn’t explain his interactions with non-beastwomen. Why would he agree to attend a party for an enchanted portrait (Rosaria), which has no means of harming him? He agreed to the proposition as soon as he heard Rosaria is a lady; there didn’t need to be a threat or significant verbal pushback for him to go. As Leona states in Cater’s School Uniform vignette, “Portrait or not, I respect ladies and Rosaria is a lady.” (I think the reblogger may have been confused and was actually referring to THIS line being made “more feminist” in EN. In JP, Leona says something closer to, “Even if it’s a portrait, a woman is a woman.” JP does not have the “I respect ladies” portion.)

Sooo, in conclusion… Leona agreeing to do as his sister-in-law says does not necessarily mean he is intimidated by beastwomen; as I’ve explained, there is an alternate explanation with evidence in canon: he wants to avoid pointless hassle.

I hope this helps to clear things up ^^ I know the localization isn’t exactly perfect, but let’s take care to not assume changes or mistranslations!

[itneverendshere]

invisible string - r.c series (three) (+18)

pairing: pogue!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader warnings: angst; smut; fluff. part one; part two

Rafe rarely ever fought with you. 

Sure, he’d thrown his weight around with just about everyone else, but with you?

He’d dropped the whole tough-guy bullshit months ago. Hell, he’d even cried in front of you, ugly sobbing and all. He didn’t let himself be that vulnerable with anyone else, but today... today he felt like his skin was too tight and he was two seconds away from losing it.

He didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard. You kept going, saying the same things over and over, and he was trying so damn hard to stay calm, but every word you said just felt like gasoline on a fire.

He wasn’t even mad at you, not really.

He was mad at everything else—at himself, at how nothing ever seemed to go right, at how he always felt one wrong move away from everything falling apart. And now you wanted to talk about it again, like you didn’t see how close he was to just snapping.

It felt like you didn’t get it. No matter how many times you two talked about it, you still thought there was some perfect world where you could just be together out in the open, like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal. A huge fucking deal.

He leaned against the wall of the shed, arms crossed, just watching you. You looked so damn hopeful like he was really about to show up to your graduation party and stand next to you like some lost puppy. You had this big party planned at your place. Parents, family, all your Kook friends. The whole scene. And you wanted him there. Like your parents weren’t gonna lose their minds if they saw him anywhere near you.

He could practically see your dad’s face already, that look of disappointment or disgust or whatever the hell he’d call it.

Rafe wasn’t dumb. He knew his place around here.

And sure, you knew the basics too: you were heading off to college soon, your life was on this perfect, shiny path, and his...well, his was a whole mess in comparison. But it was like you couldn’t see the bigger picture. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

You acted like everything between you two would stay the same, like you could just waltz into your new life with him still in it, like he could just follow you there. But Rafe knew better. You were leaving in four months, and that thought sat heavy in his chest every time he was around you now.

And here you were talking about the party again, like his presence there wouldn’t blow up everything.

He wanted to be there for you, more than anything, but not like that. Not surrounded by your perfect little world while he felt like an outsider, waiting for someone to call him out. It was like you didn’t even see the bomb that was about to go off if he stepped foot into your life like that.

“Are you listening to me?”

He ran a hand down his face, trying to hold onto whatever thread of control he had left. “I am listenin',” he muttered, though his voice came out harder than he meant.

“No, you’re not,” you said, a little firmer this time. "You’re shutting down again, like you always do when I bring this up."

He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want this to turn into some big blow-up. But damn, why couldn’t you just drop it for once? Why did you always have to dig, always push when he was hanging by a thread?

“Are coming tonight or not?” you asked for the millionth time, like it was no big deal. Just a party. “It’s nothing crazy.”

He let out a short laugh, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. Yeah, right. “Like your dad’s not gonna lose his shit the second he sees me?”

“Rafe—” you started, but he already knew where this was going. Same conversation, different day.

You were standin’ there, looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes and it killed him. You were always calm, always trying to make sense of shit when sometimes there just wasn’t any sense to be made.

And right now, he didn’t have the patience for it.

He cut you off. “You really think it’s that easy? You think I can just show up, grab a drink, and blend in with your crowd like we’re in some damn movie? Tell everyone how ‘m your homeless boyfriend?”

You looked frustrated like you couldn’t wrap your head around why this was such a big deal. He wished you could see it from his side, but how could you? You weren’t a pogue.

You didn’t know what it was like being the guy no one wanted around anymore. Hell, he barely had anywhere to crash before you helped him out. And now, what? He was supposed to show up to your graduation party and pretend like he belonged?

He was getting worked up now. He knew it. But damn, how was he supposed to just walk into that house, standing next to you while everyone whispered about how he would be dragging you down?

“It’s my party,” you said, taking a step closer. “I don’t care what they think. I want you there.”

He clenched his jaw and looked away. You didn’t get it. This wasn’t just about your daddy or your friends or even you. It’s about the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he was always gonna be that guy they look at sideways like he wasn’t worth a dam.

“Yeah? And what happens when they start askin’ questions?” He asked, voice low, trying to keep the edge out of it. “When they find out we’ve been sneakin’ around for months? You think they’ll just be cool with that? You wanna throw all that away, for me?”

Your face tightened up, hurt showing in your eyes, and damn if that didn’t make his chest twist up inside. He hated seeing you like that.

“I’m just tired of pretending like I’m ashamed of you.”

That one hit hard, harder than he expected.

He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like he was about to lose it. “M’ not doing this to hurt you,” he muttered, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m doing it ‘cause I care about you.”

He was protecting this.

You shook your head like you didn’t believe him. “No, you’re doing this ‘cause you think you’re protecting me from something that doesn’t even matter. None of this—my parents, the Kook bullshit—none of it matters to me.”

You didn’t curse often, but when you did, he knew you were upset. Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at his boots, the ones you’d bought him a month ago, kicking at some dirt on the ground. He hated this. Hated how you made it seem so simple. Like you could just snap your fingers, and everything would fall into place.

"Doesn't matter to you," he muttered, shaking his head. "But it matters to them. It matters to the people you gotta see every day. Your parents, your friends... hell, half the damn island. You think they won’t care? That they won’t look at you different if they see you with me?"

You were right there in front of him now, reaching out to touch his arm, but he tensed up, not ready for the comfort. Not when his head was a mess.

“I don’t care what they think. Why do you?"

That question. That damn question. It was always the same one, and he never had a good answer for it. He didn’t care what they thought, not about him.

But you? You deserved better. And even if you didn’t see it that way, he did.

“I care ‘cause you’re... you’re better than all that, alright?" His voice was gruff, trying to keep from saying too much, but it was getting harder. "You got your whole future lined up, you’re set. College, whatever the hell you wanna do. And then there's me, dragging you down with all my bullshit. You deserve—"

“I deserve to make my own choices,” you cut in, stepping even closer, so close now that he could feel the warmth of your skin, hear the frustration under your breath. “And I choose you. I don’t care about any of that other stuff. I want you there tonight. With me.”

The way you said it, it almost made him want to believe it. Almost.

Rafe clenched his jaw, eyes drifting up to meet yours. You really believed it, didn’t you? That this could work. That you two could just show up, be together, and it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought. Part of him wanted to grab onto that same hope, hold it tight, and say “fuck it” to everything else.

But the other part—the part that had seen how the world worked, how Kooks looked down on Pogues like him—knew better.

"Just 'cause you want it, doesn’t makes it real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Like we can just walk in there and no one’s gonna give a shit that you’re standing next to me.”

You crossed your arms now, jaw set in that stubborn way that usually meant you weren’t backing down. “I don’t care anymore, Rafe. I’m tired of living by their rules. This is my life."

He felt a flare of anger burn in his chest. Not at you, but at the situation. At the fact that he couldn’t just be the guy you wanted him to be, the guy who could walk into that party and not feel like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah?” he snapped back, voice rough. “And what about next time, huh? What about the next party or when your dad finds out and says you’re not allowed to see me anymore. What then?”

You stared at him, eyes hard, like you were daring him to say more, but there was something else in your expression, something that made his throat tighten. "You’re just looking for an excuse," you said quietly. "You’re scared."

Maybe you were right. Maybe he was scared.

Scared that if he let himself believe this could work, he’d end up losing you in the end anyway. Scared that the moment you really saw how different your lives were, you’d leave, and he’d be the one standing there, broken.

“Can’t you just drop it?”

“You’re being mean.”

He wasn’t trying to hurt you—not really. But he didn’t know how else to get through your head, how to make you see what he saw.

“So what if I am. Maybe I need to be. You’re not listening to me.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, and that just pissed him off more. You should be mad. You should hate him for not just going along with this, for making it all so damn hard. But there you were, looking at him like you still believed in him. Like he was worth it. And fuck, that was the hardest part.

Your eyes were glassy, and he could see it—the hurt. The way you blinked fast, your lips pressed tight, like you were holding it all in, it killed him.

“You’re pushing me away,” you said, voice shaky as hell. “And I don’t get it. You’re actin’ like I’d be better off without you.”

He clenched his fists, feeling that familiar burn of frustration flare up. He didn’t want to yell at you.

Hell, he never wanted to make you cry, but you didn’t get it. Part of him wanted to shake you, make you see things the way he saw them. The other part? The part that hurt every time you talked about leaving, about how you had this whole future ahead of you... that part just wanted to pull you in and hold on tight.

He laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Yeah? Well, someone needs to. 'Cause you’re blind if you think this ends with us living happily ever after.”

You flinched, like his words had hit you straight in the chest. And then, the tears came, and he couldn’t stop them this time. You wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but he’d already done the damage.

He was falling apart right in front of you, and he hated that you had to see it. Hated that you were the only person who ever saw him like this.

He hated himself for saying it, but he couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t stop the truth from comin’ out, no matter how much it hurt. “You’re leavin’ in four months, and I’m still here. Still... me. And I’m not draggin’ you down with all my crap. You deserve better than that.”

You reached out, grabbing his arm, and the way you touched him made somethin’ inside him crack. “I don’t want better, Rafe. I want you.”

“Yeah?” He barked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. “And what happens when you’re gone? When you’re off at college, livin’ your life, and I’m still here, stuck in this place? You think this... whatever this is, is gonna last?”

Your voice broke a little when you spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doin’ it ‘cause I care about you,” he said, voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “More than anything. But you... you got a future. You got everythin’ ahead of you. And me? I ain’t got nothin’ but a one-way ticket to nowhere.”

You were cryin’ now, and that damn near killed him. You never cried, not like this. “That’s not true. Why can’t you see that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rafe finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and he could see it—could see how much you meant it.

And damn, he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But he’d been around long enough to know how this world worked, and it never worked out for guys like him.

“I can’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said, stepping back, pulling away from your touch even though it felt like it was tearing him apart to do it. “I won’t.”

“Rafe,” you whispered, voice broken and pleading, but he shook his head.

“Just... let it go,” he muttered, turning his back to you. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle seeing you hurt, knowing it was his fault. Knowing he was the reason your heart was breaking.

"Fine," you choked out, voice only just holding steady. "If you don’t want me there, then I’ll stop trying.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, but not before he saw your shoulders shake. 

Fuck.

That shit crushed him, but still, he didn’t move.

Just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the ground while you walked away from him. He knew he’d ruin the best thing that ever happened to him, he just didn’t expect it to happen this soon. He wanted to go after you, and say something to make it right, but what was the point? 

He always fucked it up somehow.

He leaned his head back against the shed, staring up at the sky, feeling like an absolute waste of space.

You had everything going for you—family, friends, a future—and what the hell did he have? Nothing but bad luck and a reputation that dragged behind him like a chain. He didn’t even know why you bothered with him sometimes. You were too good, too kind.

And he? He was the definition of a screw-up. Always saying the wrong thing, always ruining the good moments before they even had a chance to get started.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, head in his hands, wishing he could just be different. Wishing he didn’t care so much about what your dad thought or how your friends would whisper when you weren’t around. He wished he could just be the guy you saw, the guy you believed in.

Hours later, the party at your place was in full swing, and he knew you were there, trying to have a good time without him. He hadn’t shown up, of course. Just like he said he wouldn’t. Rafe stayed back, back in that stupid abandoned house, trying to tell himself this was for the best. 

He could hear the distant sound of music coming from your house, the laughter of your Kook friends echoing through the night air. It was the kind of party he never really belonged at—one where everyone showed up in their clean-cut clothes, fresh haircuts, and fancy cars. The kind of life he never had a shot at, not really. And here he was, stuck in the dirt, hands covered in grime, still trying to figure out why the hell you kept fighting for him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was what was supposed to happen. You deserved to be there, with your people, not hanging around with someone like him. You’d be fine without him weighing you down. Hell, you’d probably be better off in the long run. He’d hurt you. He knew it. Saw it clear as day when you walked off, tears in your eyes, but he didn’t go after you. He didn’t know how.

But then his phone buzzed—the phone you had gotten him—and he looked down to see your name flashing on the screen. He stared at it for a second, his gut twisting, then picked up.

“Yeah?”

All he could hear on the other end was you crying. That soft, broken cry made his chest feel like it was caving in.

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, standing up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, just kept crying, and that was worse than anything you could’ve said. His heart was pummeling to the ground, and he was already on his feet, ready to head over before you even asked.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, trying to keep himself from sounding as panicked as he felt. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You sniffled hard, trying to talk through the sobs. “Rafe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your voice all shaky and broken.

He couldn’t stand to hear you like that, not when he knew it was his fault. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, feeling like a total jackass.

“Stop crying, darlin’,” he muttered, voice softer now. “I hate when you cry.”

“I’m just so upset,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “I didn’t want us to fight like that. I just miss you.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, feeling like shit. He could hear the party still going in the background, but all you wanted was him. He knew that, but somehow he’d still managed to mess everything up.

“Where are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“My room,” you muttered, “I couldn’t stay down there. I feel so stupid.”

His heart twisted, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was throwing on his jacket, heading out.

“I’m coming’ over,” he said, his voice firm.

“What?” you sounded surprised. “Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I’m coming’,” he interrupted you, his voice low but serious. “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few.”

Twenty minutes later, he was sneaking around the side of your house, ducking behind bushes to avoid being seen. The party was still going, people everywhere, but all he cared about was getting to your window. He knew how to sneak into your room like the back of his hand by now. Too many months of practice.

He climbed through, landing quiet as a mouse, and saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at your hands. Your eyes were red from crying, and he felt that familiar guilt twisting in his gut.

When you looked up and saw him, you stood fast, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there.

Before he could say anything, you were in his arms, holding onto him tight, like you were scared he might disappear. Rafe held you, his chin resting on top of your head as you pressed into him, your fingers clutching at the back of his jacket like you didn’t want to let go. He knew he'd screwed up. He always did. But when you were there, clutching him like he was the only thing that mattered, it made him question everything he'd told himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face buried in his chest, your body shakin’ from the sobs.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, like he was trying to make up for every shitty thing he’d said. “You don’t gotta apologize, alrigh’?” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “This one’s on me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, tears still in your eyes, and damn if it didn’t make him want to punch himself.

“I don’t care about the party or the people,” you practically whimpered, “I just want you, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, feeling’ that knot in his throat. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. But here you were, saying you wanted him anyway.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” He exhaled, “I just... I don’t know how to do this right. I’m scared I’m just gonna hurt you.”

You shook your head, your hands resting on his chest. “You don’t have to protect me. I just want you to let me in.”

He swallowed hard. You were all he wanted, but damn if it didn’t scare the hell out of him sometimes.

Still, he wasn’t about to lose you. Not like this.

The warmth of you against him, the way you fit so perfectly into his chest—it made him feel like he might just be okay. Like maybe, for once, things didn’t have to be so damn complicated.

But that didn’t mean the doubts were gone. He pulled back just a little, enough to see your face, brushing a tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

 “You know I’m not good at this, right?” His voice was low, rough, like he was almost ashamed to say it. “I don’t wanna screw things up, but I don’t always know how to… be better.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still watery but soft, full of that same stubborn affection you always had for him. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to let me in when it gets hard.”

He let out a slow breath, trying to wrap his head around how you could want him—still want him—after all the times he’d messed up. “I’m tryin’, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t wanna push you away, but sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing I know how to do.”

You gave him this sad little smile, like you knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t care if you push sometimes,” you conceded, “Just—don’t leave. Don’t make me feel like I’m in this alone.”

That hit him harder than anything.

He realized then, as much as he was scared of dragging you down, you were scared of him disappearing. No matter how fucked up things got, no matter how much he doubted himself or the future, he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

You bit your lip, like you were debating whether or not to say something, and for a second, Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, Rafe.”

Those three words hit him harder than anything ever had. Harder than all the fights, the doubts, the shit he carried around like it was glued to his skin. His heart just about stopped in his chest, and he just stared at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

“What—what did you just say?” His voice came out hoarse like he didn’t trust what he heard.

“I love you,” you said again, a little more sure this time. You smiled, but your eyes were still searching his, like you were waiting for him to say something back.

Like maybe he wouldn’t.

His head started spinning, like the room had just tilted sideways.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was about to pass out or just drop to his knees. How the hell were you standing there, looking at him, and saying that?

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He felt his knees wobble for a second, like his legs were going to give out. Jesus Christ, get it together, he thought, trying to pull in a breath, but it felt like the air got stuck halfway down his throat.

“You love me?” His voice cracked, and he hated how insecure he sounded, how unsure. But it was like his brain couldn’t process those words coming from you.

You nodded, stepping closer, your hand slipping back to his chest, right over his heart. “Yeah. I love you.”

Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard now, he thought it might actually explode. He blinked, then swallowed hard, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe you—it was just, how the hell did he deserve that? Deserve you?

“Shit…” He whispered, almost to himself, and suddenly his legs felt weak again. “I... I—fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

But he did.

He needed to say something, anything, to let you know what that meant to him. His throat felt tight, like he might choke if he didn’t get it out.

 “I—I love you too.” It came out fast, like he was scared if he didn’t say it quick enough, you might take it back. "I love you, too. So fucking much, I don't even know what to do with it half the time.”

He looked down at you, and for once, he didn’t care if he was being soft or vulnerable or any of that shit that scared him before.

He just wanted you to know how much he needed you, how much you meant to him.

And as soon as the words were out, you smiled, this big, radiant smile that lit up your whole face, and Rafe felt like he might actually faint this time.

His heart was gonna burst wide open. He pulled back a little, still holding onto you, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he muttered, “I’ve never—no one’s ever...”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, and it was so gentle, so full of love, that it almost knocked him off his feet all over again.

“You deserve it,” you reminded him again, “You deserve to be loved.”

There you were, always telling him of what he was deserving of. 

“I love you,” he whispered again, just to make sure you knew. He buried his face in your neck, his arms enveloping you tighter than before.

You loved him. You loved him. And he loved you.

It felt like the confession had lightened up something inside you.

He’d thought about how it would go, the first time you two would be together like that. In his head, it was always this big moment, something special. 

He was rough around the edges, sure, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect for you. He'd even thought about planning something out—candles, a slow build, maybe a weekend when no one was around.

His breath was ragged as he felt you pull him closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He’d thought about this moment a thousand times—hell, probably more—but never like this.

Not rushed, not with everyone downstairs, and definitely not with you looking at him like you couldn’t wait any longer. You kissed him like you couldn’t stop, fingers already slipping beneath the fabric, making it hard for him to think straight.

“Sweetheart...” his voice was low with that familiar southern drawl, like he was trying to hold it all together. “You sure ‘bout this? We got a house full of people downstairs.”

You kissed him harder, pulling his shirt over his head, and he nearly lost his mind right then and there. He wanted to slow down, make this moment perfect for you, but the way you were all over him? It made him forget every plan he’d ever had. He let out a shaky breath, his hands settling on your waist, trying to ground himself. 

Jesus, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it.

He wanted to slow down, wanted to make this moment last, but you were already working your hands up his chest, and it was driving him insane.

“I don’t care,” you muttered against his lips, your breath hot and all desperate.

Damn, if you weren’t the most stubborn, determined girl he’d ever met. But he loved that about you. Loved how you always knew exactly what you wanted. And right now? It was clear you wanted him. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the curves he’d been dreaming about for months.

Rafe let out a groan, trying his best to keep it together, but you were making it damn near impossible. “I was... I was tryin’ to be romantic for once,” he mumbled as he looked into your eyes, practically begging himself to slow down, to make this right. “Was thinkin’ candles, music... not with your whole damn family downstairs, baby.”

You laughed, breathless, and pulled him even closer, your body against his. “You don’t want me?” There was a hint of challenge in your voice like you didn’t believe him.

His blue eyes went wide. “What? ‘Course I want you,” he said, almost shocked you’d even think that. “‘I’ve always wanted you. You gotta know that.”

You looked up at him and he nearly came on the stop, “Then stop holding back.”

Every last bit of control he had glided right out of his hands. You were there, right in front of him, pulling him into you, like you didn’t care about anything else. All his plans, all his ideas of some perfect first time? Out the damn window.

 “You... you look so damn beautiful. This dress— I can’t get over how good you look in it.”

You giggled, and for a moment, the heat between you two softened into something tender, something that made his chest ache.

He loved that sound. Loved the way it lit up your face, like you had no idea just how much you meant to him.

He kissed you again, slow at first like he was trying to be a gentleman, but the way you kissed him back, so eager, so damn hungry—it broke whatever restraint he had left. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, feeling the soft fabric of your dress against his skin, and it sent a jolt through him, making him lose track of everything but you. The room felt too small, and all he could think about was how long he’d been waiting for this—for you.

His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of your dress, hesitating for a second before pulling it up, revealing the soft skin of your waist. He was trying to stay calm, to keep his mind from racing, but it felt damn near impossible with the way you were looking at him.

You were everything.

He swallowed hard, “I... I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, like he was scared he’d crack the spell between you if he spoke too loud. His fingers brushed over your skin, gentle, as he lifted your dress the rest of the way, eyes flicking up to yours, searching for any sign that you wanted him to stop.

You didn’t.

If anything, you moved even closer, your breathing coming out in quick, giddy breaths. There was something endearing about it—like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but you both wanted it so badly. You were learning together.

Your dress fell to the floor, and he just stared for a moment, blue eyes all wide, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Goddamn..”

His hands hovered over your skin, like he didn’t want to rush, but you were yanking him impossibly closer, urging him on. He began to move again, gliding slowly over your bare skin, every touch reverent, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful enough.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands still roaming over your body, savoring every inch of you. The soft sighs you made only pushed him further, made him forget everything except how much he wanted to make you feel good, how much he needed this to be good for you.

His was light-headed as he whispered your name, “God, I love you— I don’t think you even know how much.”

“I think I do,” you whispered back, lips brushing his neck. “Show me.”

He reached for the delicate straps of your bra and pulled them down your shoulders, like he was unwrapping the most precious thing in the world.

He paused for a second, looking into your eyes, making sure you were still with him, still wanting this as much as before.

You nodded softly, your lips parted, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. His fingers found the clasp, fumbling slightly, and he cursed under his breath with a rough chuckle, “Sorry, baby… it’s just—damn, I’m mess right now.”

You beamed at him, all the tension melting away, “You’re doing’ just fine,” you whispered, urging him to keep going.

With one final tug, the clasp gave way, and your bra slipped off, falling to the floor. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his mouth going dry. He swallowed hard like he couldn’t believe this was real.

His hands moved steadily, fingertips grazing your bare skin as he lowered them to your waist, where the last piece of fabric still clung to your body. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes coming back to yours, silently asking for permission.

 “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down, savoring every inch of you as you were revealed to him. He let out a low groan, as he finally saw you—all of you.

He needed to remind himself this was real. That you were his. “Fuck,” His voice was filled with awe. "You’re perfect.”

Your fingers drifted lower, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and you felt noticed how his body tensed under your touch, his muscles rippling as he tried to keep himself calm.

“C’mon,” you purred, just teasing as you pulled at the button, “I think it’s your turn now.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that cocky grin he knew you loved, "You sure ‘bout that, sweetheart?" 

You nodded, small hands already working to unbutton his jeans. He almost let out a prayer, biting his lip as you slipped them down, his body shivering as your fingers brushed against his skin.

His jeans fell to the floor, and you took a step back, admiring him like he was worth all that staring. Rafe stood there in nothing but his boxers, chest heaving with all that uncontrollable love he felt for you.

His eyes were locked on yours, full of that same intense need, but there was something tender in them too, he still couldn’t quite believe you were here, undressing him like this. But you were real, standing there with him and undressing him like you wanted every single piece of him. 

With a soft smile, you reached up, fingers twitching at the waistband of his boxers, your eyes never leaving his. The way you looked at him as you slid them down slowly, revealing every inch of him? He was never letting that go.

Rafe just stood there for a moment, completely bare, his body a little rigid with anticipation, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you took him in.

"You're perfect too," your eyes roamed over him, taking in the sharp lines of his body, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

When you stepped closer, hands touching his hips now, dragging him towards you, his fingers found your hair, tangling in it as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that kiss.

"Jesus," he whispered against your lips, eyes closing as he tried to breath through his excitement, "You're drivin' me crazy.”

You just let out soft little laugh that made his stomach flip, your fingers mapping over his jaw, keeping him close. His whole body was buzzing with need, his skin burning wherever you touched him, but there was something else in the way you were looking at him—a kind of trust that he wasn’t sure he deserved but fuck if he wasn’t going to do everything to live up to it.

His hands skimmed back down to your hips, your bare skin against his, and for a second, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe right. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you, trying to calm his racing heart.

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, "I want this to be good for you— I’ve always wanted this to be good for you."

You tilted his face down, your lips brushing against his “It already is, Rafe. Just...just be with me."

That was all he needed.

Rafe’s hands touched all over you like he was trying to memorize every part of you, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him have this.

He kissed you, slow but needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and the way you responded made his entire body shake. His hands ended up back in your waist, thumb brushing the skin, lifting you just a little and guiding you to the bed, where you both sank into the mattress together.

His weight settled over you, your bodies fitting together in this perfect way that made his head spin. He leaned down, kissing your neck, your collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach.

Your breath came in short gasps, your hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed his way down your body, and Rafe swore he could die.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse with emotion. "You don't even know... how long I've wanted this. How much I want you."

His fingers moved down, brushing the inside of your thigh. He hesitated for a moment, eyes searching yours, needing that confirmation one more time. You nodded, biting your lip.

His fingers slid between your thighs, slow at first, the warmth of your skin making him shudder. He exhaled sharply, opening you up to him, feeling how ready you were, and it nearly drove him insane. His fingers moved carefully, testing the waters, the softest groan escaping his lips as he found that sensitive spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe the way you felt under his touch.

Your breath caught, hips shifting toward him, a soft moan breaking loose as his fingers pressed against you. The sound of your voice, the way your body responded to him—it drove him wild. He wanted to make sure you felt good.

Two of his fingers slipped inside, careful, tentative at first. He watched your face, making sure you were okay, his other hand resting on your hip, steadying you as they curled slightly, finding a rhythm that made your body arch into him.

“Rafe…” you breathed out, your voice wobbly, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation overwhelmed you.

He worked a little faster now, getting even harder as he felt you tighten around him. “Like that, baby?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle another moan, your hands latching on his shoulders as your body quivered under his touch. He groaned softly, his lips finding your neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin there as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. 

Your body curved toward him, every nerve ending tingling as his fingers moved deeper, curling just right. He swallowed hard, his lips brushing against your ear, "Is this okay?"

Your heart thumped against your rib cage, every movement of his fingers making you gasp softly. You managed to give him a small nod, barely able to find your voice. "Yeah, Rafe... it's perfect."

His breath came out a little less unrestrained, clearly relieved, and he continued, the pace slow, testing. The uncertainty in his touch was endearing, but you wanted more—you needed more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, biting your lip as a rush of heat stretched through you, “Maybe… one more?”

He froze for a moment, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

Your heart swelled at his concern, and you gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m sure. Just take it slow."

Carefully, he pulled back just a little, his fingers slipping out before he added a third finger. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flicking up to yours, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

The sensation was different, intense, but not too overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, your body adjusting to the new pressure as he filled you more.

“Does it—does it feel good?” Rafe asked, his face inches from yours, vulnerable.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “It feels amazing.”

His lips parted, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I was worried I’d mess it up.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer, your hand twisting in his hair. “You're doing great.”

He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing a little as he found a rhythm again. His fingers moved more confidently now, more certain, his jaw falling slack as he watched you react to him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Rafe muttered, eyes glued to your face. “You feel that? You’re taking me so well.”

You whined at how deep his voice sounded, your body buzzing as his fingers worked in deeper, the pressure mounting with every movement. Your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of him inside you.

“God, yes,” you breathed out, the pleasure building to a point where it felt like you might break apart.

Rafe's pace quickened, as he pressed his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. 

"Come on, baby," he practically begged you, voice hoarse. Your breath came out in short, shallow gasps as you felt yourself creeping toward the edge, every movement of his hand bringing you closer. His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as the tension snapped, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you.

His eyes widened in awe, his fingers slowing as he watched you like he couldn’t believe what he’d just made happen. He groaned softly, feeling you pulse around him, "You did so good," he murmured, lips brushing against your temple. "So perfect."

You felt a shiver run down your entire being as his hands glided up your thighs, spreading them gently as he settled himself between them. He was shaking a little, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes—the nervousness that came with doing something for the first time, not wanting to mess it up.

But when he leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, all the apprehend melted away. He couldn’t help but take in every detail—the way your lips parted as you breathed him in. He felt like he was drowning, but in the best way possible.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You looked up at him, your own breath uneven, eyes wide and the way you saw through him—it was like you were giving him the world. His hand was still shaking slightly as he reached down, lining himself up with you, taking his time, not rushing even though every fiber of his being screamed to.

"I wanna make this good for you," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "I don’t wanna hurt you." 

There was a hesitation, a vulnerability that he only showed in moments like this. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you felt nothing but pleasure. You gave him a small, reassuring nod, your hand finding his, fingers slipping through his, squeezing. "I trust you.”

He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself as he eased into you, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time, making sure you were still doing okay.

The sensation overwhelmed him, the warmth of your body, the way you welcomed him so completely. He groaned, low and deep, knowing he could do this for the rest of his life. You were so fucking warm.

"Fuckkk," he moaned, "You feel so fuckin' good, darlin'."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as he sank deeper, the feeling of being inside you nearly sending him over the edge. He wanted to take it slow, to savor every moment, but the way you clenched around him, the way you whispered his name like it was the only word you knew—it made it impossible.

Your eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against flushed cheeks, lips parting in a soft gasp that made his heart skip a beat. His hips moved on instinct, slow at first, testing, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he tried to hold back. "Tell me if it’s too much," he managed to say, his voice strained.

“It’s p-perfect.”

His hips snapped forward, the movement more sure, more confident as he lost himself in the moment. A low groan escaping his lips as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he moved faster, harder, the need to be closer to you taking over.

You mewled pathetically at this point, nails digging into every bit of skin you could get your hands on, body arching beneath him as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he was a natural.

The way you responded to him, the sounds you made—it had to be the best day of his life.

“Touch me.”

He cupped your tit, thumb brushing over the hardened peak with a gentle touch that contrasted the desperate way his hips moved against you.

His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of emotion as his hands explored you. "Like this?" he murmured, his thumb circling again as his hips moved deeper. The way your body reacted—sucking him in like a goddamn vice—it nearly undid him.

“Mmhp—Fuck. J—Just like that.”

He leaned down, like a man possessed, lips brushing the soft skin of your tit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His mouth found the hardened peak, lips wrapping around it with a low groan, and his tongue flicked over it slowly, teasingly. You gasped, your hands entangling in his hair, holding him there as he sucked harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

He hummed in satisfaction, feeling the way your body responded to him. His tongue circled slowly, drawing out every sound you made, savoring each gasp, each moan as he lavished attention on your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips trailing over your heated flesh. “You taste so good.”

You couldn’t help the way your body responded, pressing up against him, your hips rolling to meet his. The dual sensation of his mouth on you and the deep, steady thrusts left you tingling all over, beneath him, completely dazed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Rafe—" you huffed, the word barely more than a breath as your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth latched on harder, sucking with a fervor that left you breathless.

He pulled back just slightly, lips wet and swollen as he looked up at you,“I could do this all night,” he whispered, “You like that, baby? You like how I’m making you feel?”

He didn’t know where these surges of confidence kept coming from, but he never felt so relieved. It felt like his body knew exactly what to do when it came to yours.

His hand skidded between your legs once more, fingers finding your swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his hips and mouth. You could barely think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought.

When his lips finally crashed back into yours, the taste of him overpowered every sense as his hands pulled your hips tighter. His kiss was messy, all spit and need, like he couldn’t get enough of you—like he needed to feel you, taste you, breathe you in all at once. His tongue slid past your parted lips, slow and teasing at first, then deeper, as if he was trying to consume you whole.

He groaned into the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging on it softly, then harder as he swallowed the sound of your whines.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to press wet, fevered kisses down your jawline, to your neck, leaving a trail of spit and heat in his wake.

“I love you,” he muttered against your skin, his lips latching onto your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive spot just below your ear, biting gently, “So fuckin’ much.”

“I love you,” You breathed out between kisses, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass and pulling you flush against him, the hard line of his body pressing against yours in a way that made you gasp, “Never g-gonna s-stop,” you whispered back, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as he kissed you harder, rougher, swallowing every sound you made.

"Fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to hold back, to make this last, but you could feel him losing control, feel the tension coiling tight in his body. His hips moved with a relentless, desperate need, his breath broken and uneven.

“Rafe—” you nearly cried, your body shaking beneath him. Every thrust, every touch, every breath was pushing you closer to the edge, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Let go for me, baby,” he encouraged you, two fingers still rubbing teasing circles over your sensitive clit, “Come for me.”

Your body tightened around him as you came undone with a cry of his name. Rafe groaned as he felt you clench around him, fluttering so perfectly.

His release was not far behind as he thrust into you one last time, before pulling out with a strangled moan, his body shuddering as he came all over your tummy, his head falling to your shoulder.

Rafe stayed there for a while, catching his breath, his body still shaking like a leaf as the tremors of pleasure coursed through him.

Taking his time, he lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. "I love you," he said it again, as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your flushed cheek. "So damn much."

You never looked so heartbreakingly beautiful. Like a fucking painting.

You grinned from ear to ear, your heart swelling with affection as you held his face in your hands, pulling him for another kiss. "I love you too," you murmured against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair, "Always."

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against yours, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were his, and he was yours—completely, utterly, and without question

[redrose10]

#5 from the picture game

Warnings: Swearing, mention of suggestive stuff, maybe cheating

Thanks for the request!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him.”, you shrieked throughout your small apartment after throwing your bag down on the floor. Your roommate, Sarah, concerned with all the commotion came walking out to see what was going on with you.

“Bad day?”, she questioned.

“Min Fucking Yoongi.”, you spat.

She sighed, “What did he do now?”

“Alright class, you’re going to work in small groups of two or three for this project. Pair up on your own and I’ll send around the sign up sheet for you to write down your names. Remember this project will count for 80% of your grade so it’s kind of a big deal and shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

You scanned around the room making eye contact with Namjoon. He nodded before getting up and making his way over to you. You felt relief that you would be working with not only one of the smartest guys in the school but also someone who was respectful and reliable. For some reason this school seems to have attracted every arrogant fuckboy within a 500 mile radius and you hated it.

Namjoon took a seat next to you but before he could speak someone else cleared their throat.

The leader of said fuckboys was standing right in front of you like you had summoned him by thinking too much about him. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.

“Hey Yoongi! Want to join our group?”, Namjoon happily asked oblivious to the tension in the air.

“He can’t. He’s already working with Tia.”, you gritted through your teeth. You knew she was a regular of Yoongi’s. Yoongi looked over at the woman who was trying to look seductive but looked more like she was in pain than anything.

“Nah we’re kind of going through a thing right now.”

Namjoon chuckled, “I get it man. You can work with Y/N and I. It’s not problem.”

Yoongi took a seat and pretended to listen to Namjoon as he came up with a game plan while you sat there and stewed in your anger. You knew Yoongi wasn’t going to lift a finger while you and Namjoon did everything yet he’d still be given a good grade.

Before you knew it class was over and Namjoon said his goodbyes before quickly running off to his next one.

You were angrily packing up your bag when you heard Yoongi speak.

“Y/N are you not going to speak to me this entire project? We have to work together.”, he asked.

You scoffed, “No we don’t. You and I both know you’re going to flake and it’ll be all on Namjoon and I to do all the work so why don’t you just do us a favor and get lost already.”

Yoongi stood up and leaned slightly over your desk, “Maybe you should get laid for once. You need to get some of that bitchiness fucked out of you.”

And with that he was gone and out the door leaving you red faced and so angry you couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day even once you finally walked through your front door.

Sarah chuckled only infuriating you more. “Y/N I get it. Yeah that was a really shitty thing to say but you do always seem to be the one to start things with him. Maybe him and Tia really are going through something and you two were the only option to work with. I just don’t know why you have this extreme hatred for the guy.”, she said after seeing your upset face.

You rolled your eyes before heading to your room and flopping down on your bed.

Was Sarah right? Are you the instigator? And if you are then you’re sure that he deserved it 99% of the time anyways.

Ever since the first day you met him he has been a thorn in your side.

You met Yoongi in Kindergarten. He sat behind you and would constantly pull on your ponytail and when you turned around he’d just sit there with a big smile. You complained to your parents who told you he probably just had a crush on you but that you should ask him to stop if you didn’t want him to do that any more.

Then in the fifth grade he was playing basketball at recess. He tried passing the ball to someone else but instead it came flying at your face breaking your nose. He was at your side in an instant using his jacket to stop the bleeding. He apologized profusely saying it was an accident but you’re sure he did it on purpose.

Your freshman year of high school he overheard that you had a huge crush on a boy named Jin. He was a year older than you and so handsome and funny. You thought maybe he liked you too until he started distancing himself. You found out a couple months later that Yoongi had told him that you had some incurable contagious skin condition.

Somehow though over the next couple years you had grown fond of Yoongi, even developing feelings for him. He had matured and was pleasant to be around. You were ecstatic when he asked you to be his date to the senior prom. The night had been going well and you really thought you were going to share your first kiss with him. The dj announced it was time for the last dance when you realized Yoongi was taking a really long time in the bathroom. Walking the halls looking for him you found him pushed up against the lockers with Mia, the prom queen, sticking her tongue practically down his throat. You ran out of the dance that night ignoring the shouts of your name coming from Yoongi who was chasing after you.

While walking home with a broken heart you made yourself a promise that you would never let Min Yoongi hurt you ever again. So much so that you ignored any contact he tried to make with you even finally going to his parents when he didn’t get the hint.

In college you tried your best to avoid him. The first year was easy. You had different majors and different friend groups. Then Sarah started dating one of his best friends Hoseok leading to there being lots of time spent together. You watched as he often left the hangouts with some random woman he met. You’d always roll your eyes realizing he never changed. He always had something to say to you or about you too. His little comments here and there to purposely get under your skin only added to your irritation.

Maybe that’s why your first emotion around him now is always anger.

Thankfully your emotional day helped you swiftly fall into dreamland and stop thinking about him.

“Y/N, let’s go!!”,Sarah shouted from behind your door.

“Be right there.”

You took one final look at your outfit. Your dress was a little tighter than normal but you were hoping to get the attention of this guy you met on campus, Taehyung. You weren’t really into going to parties but you were in a pretty good mood since Yoongi had skipped class all week as expected of him and once Taehyung asked you if you were going to be at this party you were quick to agree.

The smell of alcohol and sweat and just dirty funk quickly hit your senses. You’d think they could’ve sprung for a couple $1 air fresheners but what could you expect from a bunch of college guys.

Once further into the home you were able to easily spot Taehyung. He walked over with two bottles of beer. One was still sealed which he cracked open for you. You appreciated his thoughtfulness.

You were really starting to like Tae, as he told you to call him. He was funny, gentle, dangerously handsome. You could see yourself having a future with him. He went off to get you another beer when you felt someone’s glare on you.

Yoongi was also at the party. You should’ve known. It was a perfect spot for him to prey on some woman who was too buzzed to care. He was leaning up against the wall, head slightly cocked while looking at you. He was wearing a black hoodie that fit him perfectly, rings adorned his long fingers, that stupid headband he’d been into wearing recently. You hated him but you hated it more that he still had an effect on you because you couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked.

He smirked when he noticed you staring at him. Your body only heated up more when you noticed him looking you up and down.

“Y/N…I didn’t think parties were your thing.”, he said after walking over.

“Well I’m here with someone else. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Uh yeah I saw that you were here with Taehyung. You should really think twice about him.”

You rolled your eyes, “Then why don’t you do something to ruin it for me Yoongi? That seems to be what you’re best at.”

Thanks to the darkness of the party you didn’t see his confidence falter a little at your words.

“Look Y/N I don’t give a fuck what you do. I’m just saying maybe don’t get too hung up on him.”

He left and walked past you into the kitchen leaving you feeling uneasy but Tae showed up just in time with another beer to take your mind off of him.

Two hours later, eight beers, and countless songs danced to you were needing some air. It had been a long time since you were this buzzed. Sarah was long gone with her date so it looked like you were going to get your wish of going home with Taehyung.

He walked you outside to sit on a bench underneath a big oak tree on the property.

“You alright?”, he chuckled after you let out a long sigh.

“Yeah just tired.”

Taehyung remained silent as you took in the night sky. For some reason that you hated, Yoongi was heavily on your mind. You figured that by now he was probably on his second hookup of the night which only hurt you more making your stomach just a little more nauseous.

“Hey uh Y/N can I ask you something?”, Taehyung spoke from next to you.

Your body woke up with excitement.

“Of course.”, you nodded.

“Your friend Sarah…Is she…Is she seeing anyone?”

You stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t interested in you at all. The whole reason he asked you to the party was to get the details on your friend.

Feeling like you were going to cry or throw up, maybe both you stood up to begin walking home.

“Let me get you home safe.”, Taehyung said reaching for your hand.

You tried to pull away but a third hand grabbed yours first instead.

“No thanks. I’ve got her.”, a familiar voice broke the silence.

Yoongi was already leading you to his car before you could even protest.

He helped you into your apartment and to your bed. He’d been there several times when Hoseok and Sarah were dating so he knew his way around.

You were broken hearted once again and nauseous and exhausted and just didn’t have the strength to fight him any more.

You told yourself you were definitely never drinking again especially after the last thing you remembered being you asking Yoongi to stay and lay with you for a while.

And thankfully you remembered asking him that because if you hadn’t you probably would’ve woken up half the city with your screaming when you woke up and saw him peacefully sleeping next to you. You tried your best to get out of bed without him noticing but it didn’t go as planned.

When he woke up he looked even more shocked than you did. He jumped out of bed only to land awkwardly on some books which caused him to slip and end up on the floor with a loud thud. You stifled a giggle as he hastily got himself up again.

“Fuck Y/N I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Nothing happened. I swear I didn’t try to pull anything funny. You were crying and you asked me to stay and I felt bad. I was only gonna stay until you fell asleep but I must’ve dozed off myself. It’s these classes are killing me and I’m working two jobs and I’m just exhausted.”

“Yoongi it’s okay. I remember asking you to stay. It was an accident.”, you said trying to calm him down.

He looked at you wearily, “Are you feeling okay? The Y/N that I know would’ve already threaten to chop my balls off and shove them down my throat.”

You chuckled, “Yeah well this Y/N, is pretty hungover so I’m gonna let it go this time.”

He relaxed a little and sat back down on your end which did annoy you a little but you let it slide because the prior nights events were slowly coming back to you and you had some questions.

“Hey Yoongi, did you know that Taehyung only asked me to the party so he could ask about Sarah?”

He slid his tongue over his teeth. A habit of his he did when he was nervous. He nodded, “Uh yeah. He mentioned something about it to Jimin and then it got back to me.”

“So is that why you tried to get me to stop talking to him?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

You scoffed? “Well you kind of have a history of hurting me more than helping me so I’m just wondering why all of a sudden you cared enough to try and stop me from getting hurt?”

Yoongi turned to stare at you. His face flushing, either from anger or embarrassment, you weren’t really sure.

He sat fidgeting with his rings for a moment before looking at you, “Y/N…that night…that night at the prom. I didn’t kiss that girl.”, he paused, “I had written you a song. It was stupid and cheesy actually…”, he chuckled, “I forgot it in my locker so I told you that I had to go to the bathroom so I could go get it. Mia came up to me. She knew I liked you and she always hated it. She said it was the last dance and you were looking for me. I tried to push past her but as soon as I did she pushed me against the locker and kissed me. She knew you were standing there. She wanted you to see. I chased after you but you wouldn’t stop. I stopped shouting your name but I followed you home to make sure you got there safely.”, he shook his head, “You never answered any of my texts or calls. I even did dumb shit like leaving notes in your locker. Then my parents told me that I needed to back off before I got in trouble so I let you go. I guess I was childish and built some resent towards you. I’ve liked you ever since kindergarten when I used to pull on your ponytail with that ridiculous Minnie Mouse clip you always used to wear. And you just completely cut me off without letting me explain. I was hurt and started acting out towards you.”, he sighed, “I’m sorry Y/N. For all the messed up stuff I’ve said to you. I didn’t mean any of it. I guess I…I guess I just wanted to push you away from me. The further you were the less I remembered about how I broke your heart and how I never even got the chance.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“So all this time you liked me?”

He nodded.

“Is that why you told Jin I had a contagious disease? Because you knew we liked each other?”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah I did. I was a little bit jealous and come on Y/N, you knew you could do better than him. He was more beauty than brains. I mean I told him you had stage 4 Cootie-Cockilus and he believed me…”

Laughter erupted in the room.

“Okay maybe that one helped me more than I thought.”, you laughed.

The room fell back into an awkward yet comfortable silence.

“Y/N, can we start over…please.”, Yoongi suddenly asked.

Bitingng your lip in thought you finally nodded in agreement, “Yeah I’d like that.”

“Alright well let’s get some breakfast then. I know a great cafe just outside of campus.”, he said motioning for you to follow him.

You grabbed your bag and walked in front of him.

Just before your hand reached the door handle you felt a tiny little tug on the end of your ponytail.

Your heart skipped a beat making you stop.

The biggest gummy smile greeted you when you turned around to playfully eye culprit.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FOUR

So I know I said this part would have smut but it would just mess with the pacing, so the whole next section is where you will find your spice. This part is a little shorter for that reason. Anyway, I hope you like!

When you woke up, you felt incredibly warm. Your legs were tangled up with… someone elses? You would say it was someone else but human skin didn’t feel like this. It was firm and a bit fuzzy, but not like hair.  Your nose was being tickled by… fur? Whatever it was smelled amazing. 

You recognized this scent. You opened your eyes to Lyith’s round, sleeping face. His impossibly big eyes were closed, revealing his long blonde lashes. His expression was serene, and a bit of drool had escaped his half open mouth. Your sleep-addled brain vibrated with excitement. He was so cute you could just kiss him… 

Nope! Awake brain was working now, bringing some clarity to your head. Lyith and Rena had made a habit of covering your face in kisses but it had all been platonic. Excessive affection was a Bee-men trait. Probably? You thought back to yesterday, when he had kissed you and you had kissed him… was that truly platonic? 

There was a heat in your stomach, butterflies whenever he would hang off of you or tease… A part of you wanted to face these feelings but you weren’t ready yet. After all, how could a bee-men be with a human? You had heard of monster-human relations being something that could happen, but was their species even compatible with you? Was there a future there?

“You're thinking awfully hard for 8 in the morning.” Lyith breathed next to you. 

 Your awareness returned to you, and you were very cognizant of the fact that he had been holding you in his sleep. You pulled yourself back a bit so you couldn’t feel his breath on your face. He narrowed his eyes and his lip jutted out. A childish but cute pattern of his.

“W-What are you doing in my house?”

His mouth twitched. “You are a sick person. You should have someone to look after you. I’m  glad though, you only slept for a day this time.”

You looked at him, eyes squinting, “Are you okay though? Don’t you need to be at the hive for your… bee duties?”

Lyith sputtered at you, his body rocking with laughter. “And tell me, what are “bee duties”, Little witch?”

Your cheeks heated and you sat up, crossing arms over your chest.

“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be in trouble, is all. What exactly is your duty in the hive anyway?”

Lyith stared up at you under his long lashes. “I am a forager. A scholar. An ambassador who goes to human town to get our supplies. Actually..”

He brought himself up and stretched out his wings. They seemed sturdy enough not to get too bothered by him laying on them all night.

“.. I used to know your grandmother. She used to let me forager her garden. Of course, she was a lot more sparing with her magic, so it was nothing like what you do.” He gave you a pointed look, “But she taught me how to speak human. An interesting person, your grandmother. We used to buy seeds for flower monsters off her. She must have had quite a life.”

You stared at him in surprise. Your grandmother had always been somewhat of a stereotypical grandmother. She’d spoil you and laugh at your jokes, leave little candies in your pocket when you weren’t looking. You had never imagined her to be the type of person to deal with Flower Monsters of all things. It also explained why Lyith seemed so trusting of you, off the bat.

“Hey Lyith?” You breathed out, trying not to think about how your legs were still touching.

“Yes?”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

***

After that, you saw Lyith almost everyday. He made a point of stopping to talk to you every time he visited your garden. Once a week he would take you to see Rena and you would work more magic over the plants. As the spring progressed into summer, the flowers changed. You learned that your magic, while creating magical nectar, only stayed within the plant and not the soil. You were right in your worry that a different approach was needed.

You met a lot more of the hive, as on their days off, some Bee-men would come and watch you work on the flowers. Not all of them were able to speak human, but they communicated their gratitude through sharing their emotions. As you experienced this more and more, you started to pick up on what could even be counted as them asking you questions. You’d try to answer in kind, putting a hand on their arm or shoulder and trying to push images or feelings at them. This worked only half the time, but when it did, the Be-men would look so pleased they would dance. 

Rena, had always seemed a bit jealous by this.

“Why don’t you speak to us like that? We speak human for your convenience you know. Aren’t I closer to you then some random creature?”

“Don’t call your hive mates ' creature’, that's rude.”

Rena would get up in your face, throwing her arms around your shoulders and touch her nose to yours. In your mind you would feel her jealousy. A possessiveness that you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about. You tried to straighten out your feelings, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then, you’d try to project some calm, warm energy at her. She just looked at you, sighing.

“You humans are a lot more dense than I thought.”

 Then she’d buzz off to deliver her nectar to the hive, leaving you behind in the company of her Hive mates. Lyith and Rena had been giving you more space lately when it came to your magic. You’d take more breaks, and often were given time to socialize. The Bee-mens youngest hive mate, Haven had grown especially fond of your company recently. He was your friend in gossip. 

Rena and Lyith had a habit of glossing over the issues of the hive, but Haven was very different. He would answer any question you could think of. You had learned that Rena and Lyith were actually pretty high up there in the social hierarchy, as they were both scholars who taught the rest of the hive in their free time. 

He was also very honest about the struggles of the hive.

“It's been about two decades since the last Queen died. We were having some issues with ambassadors from hives from the northern hive when a squirmish broke out. A lot of Bee-men died that day. Several of the Queen's favorite drones passed on and upon hearing the news her heart gave out.”

“Immediately? She wasn’t sick?”

“Do humans get sick before they die of heartbreak? For us it is impossible. Our bonds are our happiness. Without each other, our home isn’t a home, but an empty structure…” Haven trailed off, his expression wistful.

“But what was the squirmish about? I thought Bee-men were a friendly species.”

“You see, the two Queens had been sisters. The Northern Queen never liked our late matriarch and had been up to some mischief. She had convinced the Bunny Hybrids and the werewolves to move out of our territory. Eventually, the flower monsters left as well, and all the magic in the area just… disappeared. And Queens usually travel and make their own hives, or pick up abandoned ones. We’ve been waiting for so long!”

“Thats got to be hard. I mean, your guyses population can’t grow right?”

Haven looked at you weird.

“It’s more than that! Our Queens Pheromones give our magic structure! Without a Queen our magic grows weak and it's harder to communicate! Even making our honey properly becomes difficult because our grasp of our magic slips. We are so lucky we found you, little witch! Your magic is so easy to convert. I told you, you are a blessing!”

“But if you guys haven't been able to make honey properly for a while, how have you survived?”

“We haven’t. It's like your mana sickness. Sometimes our magic just eats us up.” You stared at Haven, your stomach turning. Haven looked at you sadly. “You should know this. Your Lyith and Rena have been sheltering you way too much. You're basically part of the hive at this point.”

You reached forward and hugged Haven. He trilled happily. 

“Honestly it could be so much worse!”

You spent the rest of the day in silence. You had known they were starving, but you hadn’t realized how badly. Something else didn’t sit right with you either. The fact that the monster races had left their territory had been something that had been bothering you. That had to be the reason why the soil wasn’t absorbing magic, right? That was the only thing that had changed?

Then it hit you. What was soil? It was broken down waste. No Monsters. No decay. No shit. And how did the Bee-men manage their own waste anyway? Could you do something with this? Could it really be that simple? 

You got so excited to tell Rena about it that it surprised you when you saw her at your door. Rena never made the trek to your house, saying that human civilization had a terrible smell to it. When you saw her face, she was crying.

“You have to come with me. Now.”

“Rena whats wrong, are you--”

“It's Lyith.”

All you could hear for a moment was the large thudding of your heart. Without another word you jumped into Rena’s arms and she held you, giving you a huge squeeze before buzzing off into the forest.

Part Five (Beware NSFW)

[signanothername]

Do you think that your take on nightmare could become a better person without becoming at least fully uncorrupted?

I like your take on uncorrupted nm but I was curious to ask because there’s not really much of Nightmare becoming a better person *whilst* still being corrupted?

Asking the real questions here >:)

Before I start this ramble however, I think it’s important to keep in mind that even while uncorrupted, Nightmare’s still a bitch, cause as I mentioned before, Nightmare wouldn’t suddenly get back to becoming a kind angel with a big heart, and it’s also important to keep in mind that if uncorrupted Nightmare got back to being powerful (even without the corruption in the mix) he’s extremely prone to (and would probably) get back to his old ways

Cause while the corruption has a great impact on Nightmare’s behavior and how he deals with his emotions, the corruption is less of the root cause and more of a participant in Nightmare’s awful behavior

The root cause of Nightmare’s awful behavior is extreme fear born out of trauma

The corruption already did its job a long time ago and shaped Nightmare as a person, it’s still Nightmare himself that’s in full control of his actions, he could at any point in time, make the right or wrong decision

With that in mind, could Nightmare be a better person whilst corrupted?

I’d say it’s kinda complicated, it’s both yes and no at the same time

Could he become a better person whilst corrupted?

Yes

Would he overall become a better person with better behavior? And with everyone?

No, unless there’s an actual driving force to motivate Nightmare to be a better person somewhat (which is absolutely possible ;) ), Nightmare would continue to be a bitch

Could he still get better at treating specific people that he deems worth his time? And only deems worth his time after specific interactions that made him believe so?

Yes

Corrupted or not, Nightmare isn’t incapable of becoming a better person, however there needs to be a reason for Nightmare to be so

Nightmare is a very “treat people how they treat you” kinda person, and while Nightmare is extremely toxic, abusive, and cruel, he’s also someone who stays true to his word and would treat who treats him with kindness the same, and Nightmare doesn’t easily believe in genuine kindness without a goal behind it, and so he’d insist on giving something back instead of accepting kindness for what it is

So if someone shows him genuine kindness, he’d also show genuine kindness (in his own twisted way) in “this is me paying my debt back” way, like, he’d “pay it back” by keeping the AU of the person who showed him kindness under his protection for a period of time, or let go of a debt they owe him, etc

I’ve mentioned before that Nightmare is capable of kindness, and I don’t mean in “paying someone’s kindness back” kinda way, but he can actually be kind in an active way where he thinks of doing something kind to someone else without it being a payback of sorts, and so Nightmare can still make a good decision and actually show it without any strings attached, and the truth is he does show it, very rarely, but he does (in the “a little life update” comic, Killer mentions how Nightmare managed to do one “good thing” at least ;) )

Nightmare just has a mindset that’s like “nobody was ever kind to me when i was the one who’s helpless/ defenseless, so why should I ever show anyone kindness now that I’m in power?” It’s an irrational mindset, but the thing is, no one can debate him on it considering it’s something he keeps to himself

For the outside world, Nightmare does what he does cause he’s a bitch and that’s it, not taking into consideration the fact he acts the way he does as a result of a harmful mindset he developed due to a life changing traumatic experience (obviously cause they don’t know)

And while his kindness is still pretty much apart of him, whenever he has certain thoughts of doing something good/ kind for someone, he just immediately stomps on it and tells himself that he’s being “irrational”, and yes, Nightmare thinks that being kind in a cruel world is “irrational”, he’s the opposite to Dream, who thinks that being kind in a cruel world is what true strength is

And y’know I kinda always talk about how much of a bitch Nightmare can be, but I never talk about the fact that, despite how bitchy he is, Nightmare can actually be sensible

In the right circumstances at the right times, Nightmare can actually be talked to without him being an absolute bitch

And that goes for almost everyone, MTT included

like Killer, Murder and Horror can actually talk to him without Nightmare immediately taking it as a chance to abuse them

But Nightmare is the kinda person that you need to tiptoe around sometimes, cause he has insane mood swings, so MTT have to check whether he’s in a good mood or a bad mood and based on that decide whether it’s a good idea to approach and talk to him or leave him alone and sometimes even go as far as make themselves as small and as unseen as possible as to not catch his attention

Building a good rapport with Nightmare is.. complicated, but possible

But the thing is, even if Nightmare became a better person, it’s better to keep your expectations a bit low, cause even if Nightmare took genuine steps towards becoming a better person i think his capacity for that is limited, like don’t expect him to become like Dream where he’d jump to saving someone in need, but he’d cut back on his abusive and toxic behavior

Basically, Nightmare would become a better person but in a passive rather than an active way where he’d stop hurting people himself, but would let other people do the hurting for him (and i mean in a natural way with how positivity and negativity works and not send someone to hurt another)

For example, let’s say the twins see an innocent someone get beaten in front of them, Dream would immediately jump in to save them, Nightmare wouldn’t, he’d watch with sadistic glee and it would even get a chuckle or two outta him as the poor soul is getting beaten all while he feeds on their misery and once he’d fed himself he’ll just leave (and that’s regardless whether he’s corrupted or not)

It’s cause Nightmare also has the mindset of “the strong devours the weak”, it’s the natural order of things to him, it’s not his fault that the world around him settles for the minimum is it? That’s why he’s obsessed with power and would do anything to obtain it, if Nightmare can ensure that he keeps that power by torturing innocent people then he’ll do it, all cause he’s paralyzed by the terror of the mere thought of becoming weak again

To Nightmare, weakness means a death sentence, and we all know how irrationally afraid Nightmare is of death

Despite his power, knowledge, and 500 year long experiences, Nightmare was and will always be a fearful child who claws at the world around him first so it wouldn’t have the courage to claw back at him (completely dismissing the fact that the world would claw back regardless >:) )

For Nightmare to become a better person he needs to face his greatest enemy, and that enemy was always his own self

[missmarveledsblog]

FLUMPY part 11 ( jake seresin x reader)

summary : with roo , nat and jake gone the remainder of the dagger squad take it as their mission to make sure that the pregnant girlfriend and their friend is taken care of while she is racing to tell her dad before someone else is going to let it slip , dealing with life without jake being by her side isn't as fun and she is counting down the days til he and her favorite people return .

warning: other than my spelling and grammatical error this is a mostly fluffy goofy chapter with the mentions of pregnancy and all the good stuff that comes with it . the men of the dagger squad being big brother goals ,some mentions of an encounter with a shitty human who tries to hurt a dog.

(previous part)

She sat sitting in the car not actually knowing what it was that had her crying . was it the hormones , the fact jake was gone for three months or fact he didn’t dump her there and then . she didn’t know how long it was she was there but the crowds were long gone some even stopped to see was she ok that was til she heard a tapping on her window only to see bob standing there holding container in one hand and smile on his face . 

“ hey what you doing here” she sniffled trying not to look like an absolute mess .

“ nat sent me told me you needed this and probably a hug” he stood shyly only for her to start crying even more. “ shit you want me to bring you good duck park rooster and hangman said that cheers you up” he offered quickly only for her to cry harder. 

“ they know me to well” she sobbed as he pulled her into a hug  knowing or thinking he knew why she was crying . 

“ we can just go home or hard deck i’ll even do a shot with you” he smiled. 

“ i’ll go the hard deck but i can’t drink “ she winced.  “ kinda erm pregnant which with how loud jake yelled it  well i need to see my dad quickly “ knowing some of the men where actually worse with the how lose their lips could be . sure national  and classified secret hold til the grave but moment it came to things of normal like well they turned into a sewing circle. 

“ congratulations really” he smiled widely . 

“ ugh your so cute” she sniffled wiping her nose .  

“ come on leave you care we can come back for it later or i’ll leave mine either way your in no shape to drive”  bob help her out of the car she instantly notice how his touch got softer almost like any pressure would break her making her roll her eyes but hug the WSO  hard . 

The moment she walked into the hard deck all eyes were on her , giving bob a nod she headed over to her dad who sat talking away to penny til his eyes landed on her . 

“ well didn’t think i would see you in this place for nine months” he crossed his arms . 

“ worse then high schoolers” she turned to the officers standing around promptly turning their attention to anything else under her heated gaze .  “ i was going to tell you properly but jake well yelled so loud honestly  surprise you didn’t hear him from your place” she joked smiling awkwardly. 

“ pay up “ penny smirked. 

“ can you two stop betting on my life please it’s a bit odd but also go penny” she rolled her eyes hugging her dad. 

“  i would of rather heard it from you but the free drinks helped “ he chuckled. 

“ hey i want free stuff not alcohol if wanna be generous nacho’s would be awesome” she yelled out . 

“ so i guess jake happy” penny laughed hugging her. 

“ yeah i was so nervous then the whole dock found out got lots of hugs from strangers” she nodded . 

“ well heres a free cola on me  and looks like the guys are waiting for you” penny smiled nodding her head over to the little small group of the dagger squad. 

“ we come over tomorrow anyways go kiddo enjoy” pete kissed her head. 

“ yeah coyote looks more lost without jake than i do “ she teased making  her way through the crowd nodding at the congratulation til she got to the usual spot only for javy to lift her off the ground with a hug  almost spilling her drink but like a knight in shining armour bob took it from her hand put on table . 

“ our baby is having a baby “ he cheered . 

“ excuse me “ she laughed , 

“Oh we decided a while back you were our little sister so not up to you “ fanboy shrugged. 

“ i’ve no say in this?” she asked . 

“ nah .. plus one of us already called mav dad before” payback snickered. 

“ that was once and it was slip of the tongue” bob grumbled. 

“ we even cleared it with rooster” coyote winked  as she hugged the others . 

“ well i’m glad you got his approval “ she rolled her eyes taking her seat. 

“ so as your new found big brothers and future uncle to the baby seresin / mitchell that is growing inside of that tummy of your we are here at your beck and call so even if heartburn or some shit  in the middle of night you gotta call us “ payback informed her honestly it felt like she was being scolded like a naughty child. 

“ even if it’s for ice cream” fanboy added only for penny to bring over a container filled with nacho in front of her. 

“ courtesy of yale” she snorted. 

“Hey thank yale” she yelled mouth watering at the food before her only for more food items to be brought throughout her time in the hard deck that night some by the people that got them or to the point penny sent the delivery man or woman directly to y/n . each time she yell out the thanks to the name on the receipt . 

By the time she and bob got his car and she head home she’d enough  containers to feed  her for the week or least first couple of days .

Jake honestly was  up and down from one moments of being happy then being scared shitless within the space of few hours he was going through a series of emotions.  It  honestly  gave nat and bradley whiplash trying to keep up with him .  one hand he was so excited for  the chapter of his life , he was older almost into his forties so the fact he was going to start a family well it was everything . then it was fact he was actually going to be a father what if he was shit at it or his kid resented him for being in the navy or  what if something left him inured or worse kill in action . then he was afraid of not being there for his girl the fact she was going through three months alone without  him  being at her side. What if something happened and he couldn’t be there for her . now he was sat with phoenix and rooster since honestly the two need to get him to chill out or else get him sedated . 

“She not going to be alone the guys will be there and her dad” nat said softer than the usual tone she would take with hangman of all people. “ plus you and bradshaws got like weird spidey sense sort of thing with her so if you even for a second felt something was off you would … we all would honestly swim back to san diego” .  

“ she is right we knew she was off after that sea food platter and when she gets her period which now isn’t a problem because she can’t have either of those while pregnant” rooster smirked .  

“ he’s got a point” nat laughed, 

“ i’m going to miss three month of her pregnancy of my first child “ he finally said  looking down to his hands . 

“ barely anything happens in first three months” nat tried to play it off. 

“ scan says she 10 weeks so she be what six months when i get back”  he scoffed . 

“ well once your there for the birth meeting your first child , thats the main show my friend plus way you two go at it you’’ll get to experience it again” roo wince considering he caught them in considerably a few compromising times . 

“ honestly i’m surprised she wasn’t pregnant sooner” nat nodded along . 

“ yeah not helping , i just wished it was different i mean what if something was to happen to me “ he asked the two . 

“ i think coyote called dibs on y/ns” rooster said easily. 

“ so did bob” nat nodded along .

“ again not helping” he deadpanned. “ i don’t want my kid to grow up or my girl to be heartbroken trying to explaining   why daddy ain’t around i mean it hard thing to go through” . 

“ here as the only orphan of the group yes it hard  but i turned out fine my mom made life the best even if she was dealing with a broken heart , plus trauma make you funnier why you think me and pretty girl are so hilarious “ bradley winked. 

“ she does say she half way to being batman only Mav in her way” nat chuckled. 

“ look bagman sadly your a good guy and well we do unpredictable shit but your are going to be one of those fuckers that dies like ripe old age shitting in his diaper” bradley patted his back . 

“ i say this with love but don’t comfort people outside of our group but also thanks it weirdly helped “ jake said slightly surprise how it help just now he was counting down the moment he would get to see her . 

Waking up to a half empty bed was something she was never going to get over it . it had  been two weeks since they were gone and still felt like it was going to be forever before they got home . like it was perfect time every symptom decided to come at once leaving her napping during her lunch break or her head in the toilet . since word spread quickly of her pregnancy everyone was almost babying her making her want to honest bite them or something . admiral simpson also got a recruit one who was studying engineering to “Intern for her” which was his way making sure she wasn’t doing anything too strenuous but did mean she had to guide the dude through literally everything.  Luke wasn’t a bad kid and well poor fucker got confused more times then he should of plus calling him kid was a bit much given he was only a couple years closer . she notice kyle and coyote instantly being there too if she so much as looked at something they deemed too heavy. But true to their words one night she rang them crying because well she felt lonely and they all came and watched movie even camped out in the living room like it was a sleep over . whenever she mention of craving something well they would come back later with said thing .  bob even  got her new overalls when the little bump that started to protrude  out took her til she went home to realise what he done  , it wasn’t big by any means but still clothes where starting to get a bit tight . even mama seresin and jakes sisters sent some maternity clothes  down for her to wear and she had to give it to them they found cool stuff . she never wore the pj’s though because at night she would take one of jakes T-shirts wear them to bed was closest thing to having him there .  even during the week the guys including the newbie kyle brought her to the good duck part even making friends with the senior citizens that were there .  she was never so lucky in life as she was now to have the friends she did   when it came down to it moving to san diego and starting fresh was the best thing she ever done. 

Walking with the guys , shopping for stuff to send the guys that weren’t there care package she needed to rest when they spot some sport store honestly she zoned out half way telling them she wanted to rest on bed to knock themselves out . 

“ stupid mutt” was all she heard pulling her attention to a man yelling down at a terrified dog .  instantly she was protective mode hauling her ass off the bench no longer tired .  “ waste of money stupid thing” he spat going to kick the already shivering and cowering dog. 

“ hey asshole” she snapped pushing him away . 

“ mind your business lady nothing to do with you” he growled. 

“ i’m making it my business what fuck is wrong with you kicking a defenseless dog” she spat not noticing that fanboy was already rounding them up the moment he spot her walking off from the bench. 

“ again none of your fucking business chubs now fuck off what i do with my dog is my business”. 

“ and i told you dickless .. can i call you that because you’d have to be a dickless asshole to hurt an animal what pisses me off is if this little guy defended himself he would be branded a monster ,  don’t mind the dickless man you poor little baby “ she cooed down at the dog instantly cowering behind her. “ what if i hit you huh cut you down to size and chubs really dude you look more pregnant that i do “ she scoffed. 

“ listen lady keep you mouth shut or i’ll… “  he started. 

“ or you what , i hope you aint talking to our sister like that pal” coyote stood making himself bigger as the rest followed. 

“ because she can’t hit you in her condition “ fanboy added. 

“ but we can” bob spoke completely different honestly she was a little impressed . 

“ what like i’m afraid of you” the man said yet his face gave it away instantly. 

“ you should be “ payback stood in front of her. 

“ you know what you care so much about the bag of flea take it ain’t worth it” the man rushed off as they walked him til he drove off only to hear her giggling and laughing . 

“ he likes me” she beamed up at them . 

“ please let us be there when you tell jake” fanboy snorted.

“ he’ll get over it , day got better free dog and awesome cool bodyguards … sorry brothers now lets go get this little peanut some new things “ she smiled happily. 

 “ she’s gonna be the death of us “ kyle sighed and they all agreed. 

“ it doesn’t actually have flea’s right we took my car here” bob gulped.

Lucky for bob peanut did not in fact have  fleas but he was skin and bone . peanut was only seven months old pitbull and nothing to him  , she brought him everywhere even to the hard deck letting sit with her and the guys although he was nervous at first when it got busy but soon got use to it even  only place she couldn’t bring him was work and  so she brought him to a doggy day care one of the officers recommended one night at hard deck . two weeks was all it took for the pooch to get use to the new dynamic given it was probably the most attention he’s gotten in his life . now she was sitting on her sofa patiently ( for her ) for jake to call he let her know he had a slot for facetime coming up and she was looking forward to it  almost counting the seconds til she could  finally see him . 

“ now we gotta do this smart ok” she said to the dog currently sitting at her feet only for the phone to ring out and her to rush at it almost dropping it  as she hit the answer button . 

“ hey baby” god even his voice made her insides melt. 

“ jake i missed you so much “ she almost cried she was so happy to finally see and hear him . 

“ i missed you too hows baby” he asked nervously. 

“Growing and currently kicking my ass i mean of course they would given they’re half you , look ” she giggled holding the sonograms up . “ i sent some in care package so you’ll get to see it for yourself  i asked them kept gender surprise til your home so we will get to see it together “ she cooed. 

“ darling …. Tell me something and tell me truth” he asked his eyes coming closer. 

“ anything ask away “ she smiled sweetly. 

“ why is there a dog sitting beside you “ he asked wondering if weeks at sea was making him see things only for her to see peanut was in fact sitting beside her . 

“ well long story short , we were shopping for the care packages and well the guys went to soon store while i wanted to chill out on bench this douche was kicking him and then he called me chubby like dude looked like he was carrying quads anyways after fat shaming and threats boom free dog isn’t he a cutie” she cooed. 

“ darling don’t those eat babies” he whispered . 

“ oh my god your like the shelters … jake seresin are you dog racist” she gasped .

“ dog racist?”. 

“ these dogs are sweethearts it media and dumb ass idiots that make them like monster but peanut is a sweetheart better then the chihuahua in his daycare i think that dog hates me” she winced.

“ dog daycare darling how long is he there?” he chuckled.

“ oh like two weeks , we watch golden girls with miss wilson too  she knitted him a  little cardigan he’s still skinny as hell but he’s coming along greatly” she smiled softly kissing the dogs head. 

“Well i guess i can’t wait to meet him and tell rooster we have a dog now,” he chuckled 

The two chatted trying to fit in everything in the limited amount of time before he had to say goodbye only now peanut was added in to which confused the hell why the phone was talking to him but still wagged his little tail . when the call did end he got up in her lap and licked away the tears that fell down her cheek. 

“thank fuck you're here” she smiled sadly hugging him closely to her.  Only two more months to go before jake was home . 

taglist : @harrysgothicbitch @djs8891 @darksparklesficrecs @emma8895eb5eb @sarah-bear706318

[sosadraws]

A very extensive list of replika headcanons because I'm sick and tired of laying in bed doing nothing

Warning: VERY LONG

Elster

-It's not that they love being solitary as much as being very awkward interacting with others, and their serious faces doesn't make them any more approachable...

-They deal with loneliness with always keeping themselves busy and making routines packed to the top with things to do.

-In that sense, Elster genuinely enjoys tasks that require some level of problem solving.

-They have a deep, hoarse voice. That being said, they don't really talk much.

-In her relationship with Ariane, she was the "acts of service" person. Even as Ariane sickness progressed, she tried to bring her comfort as much as she could.

Eule -They're very flexible

-They hum a lot while doing chores, and can come up with song lyrics on the get go.

-One of the reasons why replikas have short hair is because otherwise Eules would get distracted easily braiding and styling it

-At times they can be kinda harsh with themselves. They strive for perfection (their gestalt was an overachiever)

-The walk like models/swing their hips a lot

Kolibri -They function on 70% caffeine

-They're REALLY GOOD at reading other's body language, so sometimes they don't need to rely on their bioresonance to tell what others are thinking.

-They have inside jokes and memes that they share to each other via their hivemind.

-They walk very fast to catch up with other replikas

-In the same way that they easily influence other replikas, they can also get affected by strong emotions of those around them. So sometimes they hang out with Mynahs to emotionally recharge with their chill vibes.

Mynah

-Beo is the oldest/most experienced of the Mynah units, and the leader of the cadre at S-23.

-Their gestalt was a mother that worked as a coal miner in Rotfront.

-The circle in the middle of their visor is dark glass, and the red dots are lights

-They're very aware of their size and strength, which is what makes them to be extra careful and gentle with smaller units and gestalts

-They walk with short steps

-Due to their heavy frame, they're anatomically different to other replika. They don't get damaged easily, but they're trickier to repair. That's why once Elster found Beo in the mines, she couldn't repair her with the patches .

-Sometimes they name their plushies after their favorite replikas/gestalts

-the plushies are for filling the void left by their gestalts love for cats.

-it's not necessarily that they don't get affected by the circumstances surrounding them, it's just that they don't like to think on the bigger implications or they just don't internalize it (Aka "don't think too hard about it").

Ara

-They can see in the dark (in a similar way to cats).

-The tunnels they make are extremely narrow. Many replikas and gestalts have gotten stuck before, which is why it isn't recommended to retrieve them.

-Sometimes the do listen to other's conversations, but not necessarily out of bad intent as much as boredom/background noise as they do other activities (the equivalent of watching a YouTube essay as you eat).

-They're in the realistic/cynical side of things, tho they usually mean well. They're big shy introverts, but eventually they get adopted by the Eules into their social circles.

-They love Legos/scale models, and sometimes they like to design their own buildings.

Star

-Modded guns are the ultimate sign of a high ranking unit. They can get favors out of lower ranking unit by offering to lend them.

-They get kinda overprotective with those they care about

-They walk as is they were marching, but more casual

-They a high ranking unit gets decommissioned, their belongings get passed on according to their order on the hierarchy

Storch

-They're the first ones to wake up so they have all the baths for them. They love the feeling of running water.

-They use lots of mythology analogies when talking. Almost nobody else gets it.

-In a modern setting, they would be the ones to consume media inspired by mythology, only to nitpick on every single detail that isn't accurate.

-They always walk like they're in a hurry/angrily on their way to beat someone (very fast, really big steps)

-They have a naturally loud voice and a resting bitch face, which makes them more intimidating even when they're just chilling.

Adler

-He always looks serious, and takes himself very seriously.

-He knows that big part of the facility dislikes him, but as long as they comply to orders he doesn't really mind.

-His favorite types of fetish objects are puzzles/things that carry a mystery to them, or stationary.

-He writes a lot, for everything and nothing.

-The only reason you should have two Adlers working together is if a facility is really big, and keep them as separate as possible. Otherwise you have these two replikas passively getting at each other's throats.

-The attachment Adlers have with Falkes doesn't necessarily have to be romantic. They could also the sibling, friend or mentor figures (the emotional dependency is still there tho, and relies a lot on her attention and approval).

-In that same sense, they get attached to one particular Falke, so if a Falke needs to get decommissioned, so does her Adler because if not, the man grieves and shit starts going down.

Falke

- At first sight she seems like a regular polite unit, but she carries a menacing/lowkey eldritch aura. Whatever Makima and Tomie have going on, but not necessarily evil.

-She is great with words, and has good leadership skills.

-Her halo and arrows are made out of pure light.

-She knows everything that goes down on the facility, but turns a blind eye unless things starts to cause trouble or get on the way of productivity.

-She uses her bioresonance for mundane activities, both for pure convenience and as a flex/display of dominance.

-Since they're bioresonant prototypes, they get persona degradation very easily, but since their triggers aren't really known, they're really good at hiding it/whipping the memories of those that realize it.

-I like to think that her gestalt (the daughter of the Great Revolutionary) didn't really have a say regarding her situation, as much as being the main propaganda piece for the Eusan Nation. As such, while being a good leader, she gets anxious because it's not only those directly under her command who get affected if the makes a mistake, but the image of the Nation as a whole. However she's good at not showing weakness, at that trait gets inherited to Falke units as well.

[kdramacrybaby]

I’m sorry, is it not immediately obvious that a roomba dragged her blood around? Like why are they making this a whole deal about a murderer drawing something on the floor when there are obvious wheel tracks???

[bellamyblakru]

i will never understand how some people can actively shit on something they know someone loves and finds joy in right in front of them. how can you hate something that makes someone else happy in this absolutely fucked world in front of them.

its the passive aggression for no reason i will never ever understand or do to others. if you have a passion, fucking LIVE it. if nothing else, passion gets us through every shitty day, and i will always support it.

have passion in spite of those who hate.

[skunkes]

the way I've been raised has shown itself in a recent awful experience I had and the realization won't leave me because I'm not sure what to do about it.

I don't like feeling anger/upset and it's rare for me to feel it anyway but it's led to me being unable to tell what's worth getting upset over anymore. If my wants upset somebody, then, well, maybe I shouldn't have them? What is so serious that I need it to go completely my way...? What desires am I allowed to have. It's not that serious, it's okay if not, you can't always get what you want....

every time I feel Upset I am later wracked with guilt because it wasn't a big deal and I was just being selfish... What IS a big deal then? How can I tell? Its admittedly never a big deal... But I keep being upset. And stepped on....

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.