almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[almost-blondee]

isagi's the type of guy to tell u he'll score a goal for u and fucking miss

[almost-blondee]

the person i like...

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x gn! reader.

⤷ inspired loosely by horimiya, 5.2k words, angst/comfort + u-20 spoilers.

the person i like can’t be explained in simple terms.

sucking in a deep breath, rin lays on the ground, heaving in a frustrated sigh. the sun has long passed the horizon, retiring after a long day of work. throwing his arm over his eyes, the crisp air feels like acid on his hoarse throat. his leg was twisting in all sorts of ways. the muscles that wrap around his skeleton threatening to snap under his pressure. his body hurts in ways he can’t describe. so much so that he barely missed how a handkerchief came to wipe the drool left on the edge of his lips.

“if you keep pushing yourself like this, is football even fun anymore?” looking down at him, a smile engulfs your expression, starkly contrasting your shallow and frigid words. in your hands was a bottle of water filled with electrolytes. at the same time, a towel hangs over your shoulder, a cute embroidered owl staring back at him. 

slapping away your handkerchief, rin takes the bottle for himself, taking a large gulp before wiping the corners of his mouth. despite the unkind and wordless exchange, you don’t look surprised. on the contrary, you were expecting this reaction. it’s been like this for years for you to know the kind of person he is.

“you’re mean, rin,” you say.

he turns his head away from you, “and yet you’re still here.”

he’s as childish as ever. you remember when he was younger, he would take your toys and smash them together, playing pretend a little too hard (on some rare occasions, he might have drooled over them.) you can’t count how many godzilla toys he’s been through before he noticed his destruction. even after he pushes you to your very last button with his sour personality, he expects you to stay. its abundantly more clear whenever you have to stay after school with another classmate that this side of him comes out. 

it’s this kind of ego that keeps him from being tied down by everyone else around him.

“of course, i am, no one else is here to put up with your bad attitude.” a laugh escapes from you. as you kneel beside him, you reach out to touch his cheek, noting the warm air that exudes from his skin, “as your student council president, i can’t let my favorite person hurt themselves.” 

“i’m your favorite? you’re joking.”

“nope,” raising your finger, you press it between the space of his eyebrows, leading to him staring at you with an unamused look, “you’re my favorite person, rin.” 

✦

the person i like can be kind.

on cold december nights, he’s the first person to show up at your house to wish you a merry christmas. with the allowance his parents give him, he buys the same strawberry shortcake from a bakery across the street. he remembers when you were younger, this was the thing that cheered you up. whether it be from a bad grade on a test, or the stress of being number one in his class, something as simple as shortcake is enough to make you smile. his parents tell him he’s sweet. he thinks it is logical. 

hes not fond of children, however, he’ll make an exception for your younger siblings (one boy and girl). he gets many presents from his family (none of which are from sae) so he understands how rowdy they can get during the holidays. he comes prepared with small trinkets, other times he offers to play football with them. though, it’s more of a mercy on his part for you. he gives you enough time to set up the dining table and prepare dinner without any distractions. 

sitting beside him, you realize spending christmas with rin was beginning to be a tradition. while you don’t have the money to afford lavish gifts or a tree, being with him lights up your year. it’s nice having him around. it’s nice seeing him spend time with your small family. even nicer when you see him picking bones out of your mackerel, trying his hardest not to make it obvious he’s making your life easier. it’s sweet how he pretends not to care.

when its time for your siblings to sleep, rin makes it clear he wants to watch a horror movie. it’s almost frame one after you close the door, he’s standing next to you, holding up two DVDs. one is his favorite movie, the shining, the other is another classic, the thing. although christmas is the time to see cheesy, family hallmark movies, every year, he’ll ask you to watch the shining with him, even though he knows you’ve seen it a hundred times by now.

laying in bed beside him, you shift your weight onto your side, observing the way rin licks the bottom of his lips, concentrating on the events in the movie. in the background, the two of you are watching the sadness, a terrifyingly well written apocalyptic movie that would send shivers down any adults spine. its endearing to see him focused on something that wasn’t football. you know that despite being a fan of horror movies, he doesn’t like cheap jumpscares or gore. he likes the quiet kind of evil. the one that lurks underneath your bed when you don’t know it. he likes the way writers play with human emotions and fear. cgi blood and screams are too lukewarm for him.

after a while, he notices your stare and turns to look at you. he takes this time to lean back against your soft, plush mattress, his elbows creating a dip. he’s facing the same way as you now, carefully monitoring your expressions.

“your lower eyelashes are long,” you comment, reaching out to brush away part of his bangs. his hair was always soft to the touch. what kind of conditioner does he use to make it so luxuriously smooth? this act leads to a hum to escape his parted lips, his body relaxing into your bedding, “what is your secret to having them look so nice? you look like a girl, you know.”

“shut up. there is no secret.” 

“so you don’t deny the girl part? itoshi rin you drooly—”

“shut up.” 

he holds your hand, the beads on his wrist fumbling and clattering loosely together, his gaze lingers on you. from the corner of your eye, you could make out the shared bracelet you made for each other last christmas, colorfully lit because of your cheap tv screen. when you first proposed the idea of making matching bracelets, he scoffed in typical rin fashion but still compiled. 

his fingers slipped through the cracks of your hand, squeezing your muscles with enough force to draw your focus to a thin thread. he can be a total ass whenever he wants your attention.

“are you going to watch my football game next week?”

“do i have a choice?”

a scowl makes its way onto his face as his grip tightens.

“no.”

✦

the person i like has a cute side to him.

“here,” you say, holding out a box of chocolates. dressed in your usual school uniform, the two of you meet each other in the hall. as you stand in front of the student council room, a small crowd forms as whispers echo through the tight space. while it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be seen together, people couldn’t hold back their noses.

rin gets a lot of valentines day chocolates. since the day you’ve known him in preschool, he’s been popular with the girls. despite being unfriendly, his good looks are enough to attract a lot of attention, even from boys alike. the last part being a long-running joke you’ve had with him since middle school.

“you got me valentines day chocolate? were you bored and had nothing to do?” he takes the gift into his hands, rubbing his thumb against the crisp material of the wrapper. he notes that the color of the ribbon is the same as his eyes, a clear blue, just like water. he also sees that you’ve written your name on the small tag, surrounded by hearts and stars.

“i made you chocolate,” correcting him with a huff, you rest your hand on your hip. “and i made it specifically for you. i know how picky you are.” 

this isn’t the first time you’ve made chocolate for him. every year, you make special ‘friend’ chocolate to give out. when it comes to sweets, rin can be a very childish and picky person. he doesn’t like it if chocolate is too sweet or bitter. he has a terrible habit of sticking out his tongue if it’s not tasty. it might be one of many reasons he rejected other charming girls. 

you used to think the real reason was that he hatred chocolate, though this was quickly disproven one afternoon when he greedily ate half of your pocky from your cupboard. he even dared to complain you didn’t have enough candy for movie nights, leading to him coming over with more snacks to fill your cabinet.

“is that so?” he tucks the box into one of his bag pockets, “did you make it for anyone else?”

“i had extras for everyone in the student council. they got icebox cookies. though, they’re not as cute as the ones i made for you,” wagging your finger, you smile eagerly, “the convenience store nearby had these cute chocolate molds. i got them on sale too. they’re owl-shaped, isn’t that cute?”

“super cute,” he says with a deadpan expression.

a beat passes before you stifle a laugh behind your hand.

“rin, you’re funny.”

“am i?”

“you are!” 

you stop teasing him to interlace your fingers behind your back, peering up at the taller male. in a rare turn of events, rin’s expression changes. there is this soft look in his eyes, the lowering of his upper lid and slow blinks that communicate to you something otherworldly.

before he turns around to leave, he leans forward, whispering in your ear a phrase that leaves you scrambling in suspicion. 

i’ll pay you back.

when white day comes, you are reassured by the sight of a neatly wrapped box, tied with your favorite color ribbon. inside was another strawberry shortcake, curtsey of rin. he might not have known, but from the corner of your eye, you saw the reddening tips of his ears give away his appearance. how cute.

✦

the person i like can be incredibly sensitive.

opening the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. dressed in his usual football uniform, rin had his gym bag slung over his back. snaking his arms around your waist, he elicits a surprised chirp out of you.

he pulls you tightly to his chest, squeezing as hard as he can to steal your breath. despite pushing him with enough force to tip an elephant, he remains still, holding onto you tightly as if you could disappear anytime. 

“rin?”

bringing your arms around him, he finally lets go a sigh of relief, almost as if he was waiting for this moment all day. 

before you could say anything else, he blindly guides the two of you back into your room. swiftly taking off his bag and shoes, you awkwardly stumble over his foot, noticing the sharp inhale he takes. once making it past the wooden door, the two of you collapsed onto your mattress, tumbling like lopsided jenga blocks.

still quiet and reclusive, he loosens his grip, giving you ample time to breathe normally.

you’re left laying beneath him, getting a small glimpse of the way his expression becomes crestfallen and still. perking up your ears, you swore you heard him say something.

“... movies.”

“huh?”

“let’s watch a movie.”

raising your eyebrow, you tilt your head to the side, “you came all this way just to watch a movie with me? couldn’t you have waited until this weekend? rin–”

“yeah.”

letting out a defeated groan, you don’t say anything when he leans his weight against you, effectively crushing you between himself and your cushions. you have to ignore the way your heart is beating ten times faster than an olympic athlete and how your face turns hot every time you feel his warm breath graze your ears. 

if it was anyone other than rin, you might have gotten the bright idea of hitting him over the head with your bedside lamp. however, because he is your favorite football player in the world (his words, not yours), you had to endure his strange, clingy habits that he denies so quickly.

lifting your arms above his head, you let them rest against the nape of his neck, grazing over his spine slowly and carefully. you make a mental note of the way his muscles tense up in certain areas. football practice must have been hard on his body. you could feel knots all over his body.

an impish grin makes its way onto your face, your fingers drawing smiley faces and hearts on the surface of his back, causing him to exhale audibly into your neck, muttering about how ticklish he is.

a comfortable blanket of silence drapes over you, tiredness creeping up on you like a bedside monster. blaming it on rin’s warmth, you sink your head back onto your mattress. for someone who describes himself as unfriendly and cold, he was starting to melt in your arms like putty. he was like a personal heater at this point.

finally, after a little while, you feel his lips graze across your neck, “do you think i’d be the best striker?” his question slips through your mind, dancing across your neurons and flickering. 

“why wouldn’t you be?”

“i don’t know. sometimes i don’t feel like i’m the best.”

“you’ve worked the hardest out of everyone i know. there isn’t another guy this obsessed with football and his brother.”

you wince at the sudden pain in your side, realizing he had used his index and thumb to harshly pinch your abdomen. he’s such a total ass.

���do you think i’ll be as good as sae?”

“probably not as good—” he elbows your stomach, making sure to hit you in the same spot he pinched you earlier. “let me finish my sentence!”

in return, you force one knee against his lower torso, a surprised gasp leaving his throat at your sudden retaliation. as his guard is lowered, you push yourself up, flipping your positions. 

laying beneath you, he is left in awe by your boldness. taking his face into your hands, you squeeze his cheeks, bringing him closer to you until you can barely feel his nose graze yours. there was this strange look in your eyes. it was incredibly warm, almost as if it had been lit up by some kind of fire. it has him gripping at the reigns of his emotions, riding out what feels to be adrenaline.

“if there is anyone as good as sae, hell, even better, it would be you, rin.” this comment sent rin’s heart jumping through hoops. 

“there isn’t anyone else i’d dream with but you.” 

✦

the person i like can be cruel and selfish.

sitting at the center of a snowy field, rin digs his head into his gloved hands. hes on his knees, gasping heavily as he choked on a sob. his mind is racing in indescribable ways, dragged from end to end, he’s stretched thin. perhaps it’s the air itself that is thin because he’s struggling to breathe properly. despite wearing a black scarf, nothing could have braced him for the storm. 

his brother truly was amazing. he surpassed his record four years ago. he’s playing for the most famous team in spain. he’s a renowned football player not only in japan but in every other country. he’s everything rin has ever dreamed of. the only thing that was falling behind was himself. all the time he spent training was for nothing. his throat was constricting on itself. the world was growing darker and foggier. he could feel his nerves coiling around his lungs, a deafening boom of his own heart tuning the sound of crunching snow.

“rin?” your voice trails off, unsure of what to make of this sight.

you’ve never seen him look so defeated in your life, and you’ve known him for years. the prideful man you’ve grown so fond of looks like he was on the verge of crying like a child. you’re at a lost for words as you squeeze your hands together. 

just a few minutes ago, you saw his older brother drag his suitcase across the snow, wielding a stone-cold expression that grazed over you. what sort of fight did they have?

“are you here to laugh?”

“what?”

“you heard me,” he holds his fingers up to his face, withdrawing air from his lungs carefully, “you’re here to call me lukewarm, aren’t you? just because i lost to sae.” cradling himself, he tries to block out the pained expression written across your face.

“why else would you be here? at such a perfect time too. were you just waiting for him to leave? so you can see me like this? and laugh?” 

“why would you think that?”

your words come out shakier than you expect and despite that, he still doesn’t look up at you, not even with the small amount of sympathy you hoped he would spare. hell, it feels like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether, on purpose. now that stings.

“why are you here?” he chokes, “leave me alone.”

you don’t know what hurts more: hearing his voice in shambles or your heart falling apart.

“you know i can’t.”

“why?”

“because—we’re friends.”

he tightly bundles the snow under his fingertips, squeezing it until it forms a hard ball. “just leave me alone!”

keeping his head low, he blindly throws a snowball at you, nearly missing your cheek by a hair. shock was an icy force slowly creeping up on you. “leave me, (name), get the hell away from me. i don’t need you,” he huffs, struggling to catch his breath as his body droops forward, “i don’t need anyone!”

“you don’t mean that—”

“shut up—shut, i don’t need you, i never–” biting the tip of his tongue, he lets himself slip through the cracks. for a fraction of a second, he looks up to you. 

illuminated underneath the moon’s light, you see a nameless ball of hatred seethes through those familiar irises. it bleeds through the cracks and down his long eyelashes, trailing down like damned tears. this type of loathing didn’t just appear out of nowhere. it was born eons ago, quelled by a supernatural force whose spell broke.

“i never liked you. not one bit.” he says, “you’re a stupid, know-it-all, student council president, who thinks you can fix me—but,” he heaves, “you can’t—i’m not some kind of charity case. i’m not someone you can just use to feel better about you—and your sad, lukewarm life.” 

“i don’t understand why we became friends—i’d never—you’re terrible at football, and worse of all, you try to lecture me about it as if you know more than me, but you don’t. you’d never know what it is like to be enough. you got two loving siblings who care about you even if you do a shit job. everyone in the student council glazes you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to them, and it’s honestly so sickening.” 

“god you make me so fucking sick (name). you’re so lukewarm that it hurts. it’s so boring to be around you sometimes,” he continues digging into your skin, twisting the knife so far you find yourself clutching your stomach, “you really have nothing to do but wait on me. it’s annoying.”  

“you don’t mean that,” you knew rin could be cruel but never merciless. you swore he was sweet inside. sweeter than candy even. so why—

“i don’t need you in my life.” 

“rin,” using the back of your hand to wipe away at the loose tears that threaten to spill over, you refuse to lower your gaze, “tell me, you didn’t mean that. you really don’t mean it.” 

the wind blows over, both your scarves bellowing alongside the frigid cold. he’s tightening the grip he has on the ground, lips pressed tightly against each other as he thinks about the next string of words he could piece together. something he could say that will hurt you.

like a broken record, you ask again: “do you mean it, rin?”

and this time, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“i do.” 

✦

that was the last time you saw rin. 

despite waiting on christmas day with his favorite food, patiently waiting for him at the table, he never showed up. it stung knowing he was still mad at you. your heart was twisting in uncomfortable ways every time you stared at his empty seat. it took everything within you to restrain the sobs that bode over your bottom lids, to choke down the cold rice you’ve made. your younger brother slid himself closer to you, patting your back as you struggled to hold back your tears, a wail escaping from the cracks and seeping through the walls. 

you want to convince yourself that a small fight like this won’t be the end of your friendship, but considering how vindictive and punishing rin could be, your wish is less likely to be heard. maybe you should have listened to your friends when they said he would be a bad influence on you. you knew him as an incredibly petty and childish person, a trait that is further amplified when it comes to his older brother

he can take and take, but never give. he can get mad at any boy who tries to give you their jacket but scoffs in your face if you suggest the same. he can push you around as many times as he wants, and expect you to be okay with it. that’s how selfish he is. 

when you heard about japan’s newest program, blue lock, a meticulous yet ambitious plan to create the country’s best football team, you could only imagine how quickly rin signed up. to this day, you still don’t know what they talked about or what led to the explosion. your younger brother called you stupid for mauling over a guy who didn’t give you a second thought. 

and perhaps you were stupid. you were stupid over the worst guy.

you still think of those sleepless nights, the ones where it was you and him against the world. still thinking about the dream he shared that one christmas, when he rested his head on your shoulder, speaking in a low whisper, his warm breath tickling your ear. you believed in his dream of becoming the world’s best striker, his name placed neatly beside sae’s. those sleepless nights watching horror movies, having your side pinched by a bumbling idiot you called your best friend.

all of it felt like a fantasy you created in your head. when you scream into your pillow, you wish he could hear it.

months would go by without a single message. your family meals have resumed to being a three-person activity. no more strawberry shortcakes and movie nights on christmas. your life was completely devoid of anything football-related (your siblings decided to call it quits and move on to another sport. whether or not it was out of respect for you, or because they got bored, you aren’t sure.) all you knew was that instead of having a checkerboard ball in your backyard, your brother replaced it with a pure white volleyball.

it wasn’t until you awoke with a fated breath that you saw three tickets placed neatly on your lap. the two rowdy children you called brother and sister jumped excitedly on your deflated mattress, having waited supposedly hours to surprise you. they had ripped open your mail early, pulling out vip tickets to the next u-20 game. they were fairly expensive as well, being seated extremely close to the railing and pitch.

after confronting your siblings about the dangers of opening suspicious mail, you finally decided to check the name on the return address. when examining the letter, you notice the sender was a familiar name: itoshi.

✦

although he should have been proud, he couldn’t be more angry at himself. giving isagi the final goal was the last thing he wanted. even if it was luck, it simply wasn’t in his favor. clutching his forehead with the palm of his hand, rin drew in a heavy-hearted breath. his muscles were screaming at him, clawing up from the bottom of his ankles to the top of his knees. his tongue felt numb with a slight metallic taste following the cold texture. how many times has he seen this happen already?

“i thought japan could never produce a proper striker,” with a hand on his hip, sae stares off into space, eyes trailing the crowd. at his words, rin peeked his head upwards, a smile he hadn’t felt in a long time rushing to his face excitedly. 

“the one who drew out your instincts and will change japanese football is yoichi isagi. he might be the one to do it.”

what?

a pitiful expression quickly washes over rin’s enthusiastic expression. the dream he thought he reignited in his brother faded away pathetically, and the realization that he’ll never be acknowledged for his efforts dampened his ego severely. out of all the people he could have said, it had to be the one person he dreaded the most. and as if his mood couldn’t get any worse, he watches as isagi jogs his way towards his direction.

prepared for the inevitable gloat, he—

“what is that look on your face, get up rin!” screaming at the top of your lungs, you squeeze the edge of the railing tightly, leaning forward as you press your entire weight onto the tip of your toes. one wrong move, you might accidentally tip over and fall into the pitch. your siblings raise their homemade banner as high as they can, puffing out their cheeks as wave the heavy flag. 

“do they know the game is over?”

“maybe they’re cheering for someone else.” 

“that sounds embarrassing.” 

with reddening cheeks, you close your eyes, blindly calling out to the wind and hoping he’d hear you.

“rin, don’t give up! you still have time! i…” hiccuping, you hold your chin up high, “still believe in you!” 

“idiooooooooot!” 

there was a deafening minute of awkward silence before sae erupts in a fit of laughter, breaking rin out of his stupor spell. he quickly twists his head, facing the direction he heard your voice. only one person was willing to call him, blue lock’s number 1 striker, a complete idiot across the pitch for everyone to hear.

“god, i didn’t think they’d actually come,” sae brought one hand to rest on his ear, “and i thought your lukewarm personality drove them away for good.”

raising himself from the ground, rin hesitantly steps forward, meeting your gaze. you could feel your heart leap up to your throat, unable to contain the jittery feelings that once accompanied your former friend. underneath the shining, glimmering sun, you could make out the colorful bracelet adorned on his wrist, a symbol you were all too familiar with. he was still wearing it after all this time.

“i guess you just have those kinds of people.”

the kind that would still believe in your dreams.

without a second to waste, sae harshly slaps his back, propelling the young man forward, though, not before calling him a lukewarm fool.

despite the burning exhaustion he felt one minute ago, his legs felt as light as air right now. he sped through the interview crowds, weaving with ease to make it to the other side. this act caught the eye of isagi who stopped midway, watching in disbelief as the once stoic man clambered to his knees, fumbling over someone.

before you could catch your breath, your younger brother and sister shove you over the railing, forcing your body over the metal bars. hitting a firm, warm chest, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar tight embrace. 

ignoring the crowd’s whisper, rin kept you close to his heart, (literally and figuratively speaking.)

“idiot.” you whisper, squeezing his neck with as much force you can muster this time. “idiot—idiot—you idiot.” 

“i know.” 

“rin you’re the biggest—stupidest, most idiotic idiot–” 

“i know,” he repeats, murmuring in the crook of your neck, “i know.” 

“idiot!” words continue to spill out of your uncontrollable lips, “idiot, idiot, you are the worst!”

he doesn’t fight against you even when you punch his back as hard as you can. he doesn’t even flinch when you kick up your feet, wrapping them around his waist as you choke up a sob that’s been trapped in your throat for months. he doesn’t do anything. he only holds you. keeping you as close as possible so you could hear the way his heart beats. 

tucked in his arms, the world finally goes quiet, and its only the two of you.

“you’re so stupid rin.”

“i’ve heard that before.” he withdraws his expression following the crook of your neck, “i’m sorry.” 

“sorry isn’t going to cut it.” 

weakly raising your arms, you stow your fingers away in his slightly sweaty hair, withdrawing a comment about showering. he exhales carefully, closing his eyes, he melts in your body, “i understand. i don’t expect you to forgive me after what i said.” 

“and i won’t for a while.” 

“that's okay.”

his curt answer garners a huff from you, “is it?” 

“yeah, that’s okay with me.” 

“you’re not mad?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.” he lets you pinch the back of his neck (even if it does really hurt, he doesn’t want to accidentally let go of you). “i said all of those things without thinking about it.”

“it sounded like you did for a long time. those words hurt, you know.” 

“... yeah. i thought about them for a long time. and i wish i never said them out loud. not because they were true, but—” like a clumsy child, he stutters over himself, “i wanted to give myself a reason to hate you.” 

“did you hate me?”

as quickly as your question came, so did his answer: “no.” 

“well,” you mutter, a pout drawing itself on your face, “i hate you just a little bit.” 

“is that why you’re still holding onto me?” with an irked expression, you pinch the surface of his skin even harder, trying to send a not-so-subtle telepathic message. he winces but doesn’t try to shove you off, this position he has you in is a little too comfortable for him to let go of right now.

“you give me no choice.” he has to pull himself together so he doesn’t instinctively reach out to squeeze your waist. he’s definitely heard this line from you before. 

slowly drawing in a breath, he lets his muscles relax. they loosen just slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms firmly around his body. his heart was still beating as fast as ever, you could feel it thump against his ribcage. it was just as fast as yours.

“...can i come over?”

“do you think after all this time i’d just let you come into my house?” you snorted, “who do you think you are?” 

“someone who wants to come over to your house.” 

a beat breezes through..

“...you’re the worst, rin.” 

the person i like the most is the biggest idiot. 

[almost-blondee]

Please read No Home by Wanan

[almost-blondee]

[almost-blondee]

Hello!

Could you do a social butterfly!Narancia (Jojo) and very introverted Reader?

Like Reader just spends their free time either at home or library. And Narancia is dragged to that library by Fugo, he's just there to grab some books and Narancia is not happy to be there until he sees Reader.

Have a good day!

Lucky Day

Narancia x introverted!reader

Fluff, Day at the library

Word count: 1.4k

So this is my first time doing requests, so hopefully this is okay. I’m worried that i kinda strayed off topic or it’s kinda too all over the place. but hopefully this is somewhat close to what you’d like

Also please don’t mind spelling or grammar error i tried to find them all but i may have missed some, Thank you and enjoy!!!

——————————————————————————

“You know Narancia you’re never going to get smarter if you don’t try” Fugo tries to somewhat encourage the other young male. “ugghhhh, i’ve heard this like a million times…” He responds while trudging along. It just so happens that they were on their way to the library to pick up some books for Fugo. However Fugo took it as a chance to pressure the boy to pick up his slack.

“i’m only coming with you cuz’ you promised me some snacks…” Narancia hesitantly added. They were now nearing the library and Narancia was dreading just sitting in there waiting for Fugo, never mind all the useless knowledge he would hear after Fugo picked up his books. Usually when this happened Narancia would sit somewhere in the library and wait while Fugo would find his books. Every so often he would lay his eyes on a certain someone. Narancia didn’t know anything about them, not even their name. He was just so enthralled with watching the way they were. As he was entering the library he caught himself wondering if you would happen to be there. After all it seemed you liked to spend most of your time at the library, you were there every time he was, and that was next to none.

“okay Narancia, just go sit where you usually do, i’ll try to be quick.”

“ yeah sure whatever you say that every time” Narancia mumbles under his breath while walking towards his usual table.

Just as he was about to slouch down into his usual chair, he had noticed that someone was sitting at his table. His first thought was to threaten this person to make them move, that was until you looked up from your book, to see him staring at you. As soon as he realized it was you, the intimidating look on his face disappeared being replaced with a softer one. Narancia thought to himself that he must be the luckiest man alive. He slyly walked to the chair across from you and sat down. You try your hardest to focus back on the book in front of you knowing that talking to strangers wasn’t really your thing. However, you could quite literally feel him staring at you. So, you’d have to look up at some point. So you did exactly that. You slowly brought your eyes up to see his face, shining so bright you’d almost reached for the blinds.

“Hi, I’m Narancia, Nice to meet you! I’ve seen you here lots!” He said almost immediately after you had looked up. Not really expecting him to be so forward you immediately averted your eyes to think of something to say. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t even let you get a thought in and continued talking.

“It seems like you like to come here, is that right? have you ever seen me around. I mean probably not. you’re always pretty focused on the books you’re reading” He borderline shouts at you.

you manage to compose your self.

“ um… yes i have seen you a couple times. Do you also like coming to the library?” You ask at an attempt to make conversation. Truth is, you have seen him around, how could you not, he was always so loud when coming to the library. Very vocally complaining about how long his friend was taking. so you sorta already knew the answer to your question.

“HAHAHA, good one…” Narancia says as he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “ I’m only here because my buddy Fugo apparently ‘needs someone to come pick up his books with him’. He obnoxiously says while using finger quotations. “oh, i see…” You say, not really knowing how else to respond.

“yup, he always babbling on about how i need to get smarter and actually care about my education yata yata.” He readjusts the way he’s sitting. “ but you know it’s not so bad coming here if i get to see you.” he then throws in a wink, hoping that will win you over.

you were again taken aback by his forwardness and immediately you can feel your face heat up, you don’t do so well with compliments. Especially from someone who you’d like to say was attractive.

“i’m just teasing although i wouldn’t mind if we could meet here more often, just the two of us of course.”

Now thinking to yourself that he is relentless, you can’t help but chuckle at his attempt of flirting. You wouldn’t mind spending sometime with him if it meant getting to know each other better. you had been quite interested in him since you first saw him, wondering why he hated the library so much.

“Um, yeah i’ll have to think on that one. we have only just met.” you say quietly, unsure if he could even hear you.

“Well how about we talk a little more then you can tell me your answer, yeah?” he retorts looking at you like a puppy, if he had a tail you’re sure it would be wagging.

“Okay, sure” you simply say, looking down at your watch. Only now realizing that it was almost time for your shift to start. You say you had about 10 minutes give or take. So you decided to humour the boy sitting across from you.

You watched as he rambled on about something as simple as his favourite snacks, he was basically having a conversation with him self. Expect from the occasional “hmm” “i see” “nice” from you. By the time he was ready to ask you what your favourite snacks were you were slowly packing up and getting ready to leave. Narancia noticed this, and inquired. “ you have somewhere to be?” his eyebrow slightly raising. he was staring at you so intensely you were almost afraid to say yes.

you reluctantly told him that you had a shift at the café down the street and usually came here to kill sometime before clocking in.

“ ooohh, so you work at the café huh, That’s good to know” He now has a huge smile on his face, again you now are looking for the blinds. You had a feeling he was going to be up to no good. “ yes, so i’m sorry to cut our time short, maybe we could talk another time.” you say now starting the motion to get up. By the time you have stood up and slowly made your way to the door Narancia had followed you the whole way. “ So your saying if i see you here next time we could have another chat? Or even better, i could ask you out to someplace more fun?” usually you’d be apposed to such offers however, this boy in front of you seemed to genuinely want to get to know you. You couldn’t let him down now. “ i suppose so yes, that would be okay” you answered. “ i’ll be on my way now. Good bye Narancia.” you swiftly left with your bag in hand. Narancia watched your figure disappear, then realizing he hadn’t even got your name, nor your number. how was he supposed to contact you now? he sadly made his way back to his table, he did slouch down this time, upset that he got so excited he forgot the whole reason he went over to you. Feeling dejected. he rested his head in his hands and decided to wait for Fugo.

A couple minutes later He could hear footsteps, assuming them to be Fugo. He instinctively sighed loud on purpose so he’d ask ‘what’s wrong’.

low and behold Fugo could be heard asking “What’s wrong Narancia, it’s not like you to look so dejected.”

“i fumbled”

“what…” was all Fugo said back with a disgusted look on his face.

“Are you sure you fumbled, this piece of paper tells me differently” That was Fugo for you, quickly figuring out the scenario like nothing.

Narancia whips his head up wondering what paper Fugo is talking about. As he looked at Fugo his eyes flickered down to the paper in between Fugos pointer and middle finger. Clearly in the position to hand it to him.

Narancia grabbed the paper more desperately than he would have liked and Fugo just scoffed.

The note read

(xxx-xxx-xxxx)

My name is (y/n) by the way…

Narancia was over the moon, he couldn’t believe he managed to get the number of someone so enthralling. Now he was jumping and hugging Fugo, thanking him for bringing him to the library.

“ Hey Fugo next time can we go to the Café down the street?? what do you think?”

Let’s just say you gained a new regular that day, both at the Cafe and in your life.

almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

Can’t believe someone would actually do this, how can you accept compliments when you know you didn’t write it lol, crazy to me.

DISCOURSE.

Damn people plagiarise reddit posts now. There's no credit or anything .

This is the reddit post (not sure but this in itself is a repost of another reddit post 💀 people love copying ig)

Here

Heres our fandom star! Bro didn't even gaf about changing the title. Yeaaa bestseller by copying <3

The notes???

here

Ps sorry to use the x reader tags but yall need to know that they are a pathetic plagiariser

[almost-blondee]

MASTERLIST ✧

ONLY SFW FOR NOW!!! (sorry to dissapoint)

i will organize it better when i have written more! Hopefully you enjoy my writing!

Thank you!!! ♡

JJBA x reader

Part 5

Narancia x reader

Thorfinn x reader

Green Monster

The Truth

Shit Disturber 

Sanji x reader

Running in Circles

[almost-blondee]

REQUESTS☆

Although i don’t have many followers, i was wondering if you guys would be interested in suggesting fics that i can write, i have not been inspired recently. I would appreciate if you are to request that you add a scenario or troupe in there that i can roughly go off, more detail the better!!

I can do a variety of anime’s, however if you suggest one that i’m not familiar with, they’d probably be out of character. Therefore, the anime’s i could confidently write about are the following:

Attack on titan, Blue lock, One piece, Vinland saga, JoJo’s, Jujutsu kaisen, possibly haikyu, death note, Demon slayer, and Monster

That’s probably it… Also i’m not super familiar with tumblr so i don’t really know how to go about requesting them, you could just comment, or DM me i guess…

Okay, thank you, i’m hoping to at least get some requests!

[almost-blondee]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[almost-blondee]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[almost-blondee]

twitch streamer toji

[almost-blondee]

[almost-blondee]

after a fight

[almost-blondee]

一緒に・Together

[almost-blondee]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

[almost-blondee]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo offers to help you get the attention of your crush, but things don't turn out the way either of you expect genre: college au, friends (?) to lovers, fluff, no angst notes: gojo is kinda dumb idk, shoko and geto know he's stupid wc: ~5.8k

"So, Geto Suguru, huh?"

You furrow your eyebrows as you look up from your book, meeting the bright blue eyes of none other than Gojo Satoru.

"I'm sorry?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. Gojo chuckles lightly, booping your nose as he takes a seat next to you.

"Cute," Gojo comments, snorting when you swat his hand away. "But really? Geto? He's a little too boring for you, don't you think? You're kind of super out of his league."

"I have no idea what you're taking about, Gojo," you say, carefully placing a bookmark between the pages of your book before closing it and setting it down next to you.

"You can call me Satoru if you'd like. I don't mind," he says, leaning back on the grass and basking in the sunlight. You stare at him dully, still confused by the entire situation. He grins when he notices your expression.

"What do you want, Gojo?" you ask, watching him pout at your use of his last name. He brings a hand up to his heart, pouting at your tone before breaking out into a large smile. You look away, slightly annoyed by your white-haired classmate.

"Geto? Suguru?" he repeats, bringing his hands up to form air quotation marks. "You know, 'the only one who's ever made my heart race and palms sweat', that Geto Suguru?"

Your jaw drops at his words, and you whip your head around to give him a disbelieving look. He's wearing a smug smirk as he returns your stare, one eyebrow raised in a way that lets you know that he's heard everything you've said about his best friend.

"Where did you hear that?" you hiss, grabbing your book and shoving it into your bag. You feel your heart pounding as you rise to your feet, brushing your clothes off before crossing your arms and staring at Gojo.

"You really should choose more private places to have such conversations," Gojo replies, standing up as well and brushing his hair back with his hand. "You weren't exactly being quiet when you were speaking with Shoko."

"So what is it that you want?" you ask, a scowl working its way onto your face. "Do you want me to do your chemistry homework in exchange for your silence or something?"

Gojo's smile never falters, unnerving you the slightest bit as he walks up to you before grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"No, of course not! What kind of student do you think I am?" he asks, pushing his sunglasses up with one hand as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders. The two of you begin walking towards a nearby lecture hall, and you find yourself tensing up the longer you remain under his hold. "You see, lately Geto has been getting on my case about every little thing. Between you and me, I think that having someone to focus his attention on can be beneficial for both of us. So I'm here to offer my assistance to get Geto to notice you!"

You come to an abrupt stop, causing the white-haired boy to halt as well. He looks at you curiously, confused by your sudden actions. You remain quiet as you reach for your bag, tugging it away from him with a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks for the generous offer, Gojo, but no," you say, annoyance tinging your words. Gojo nearly flinches when he notices your stony gaze, and he chooses to remain silent as you begin to walk away.

"If you change your mind, let me know!" he calls out after you, this time actually flinching when you turn around to send him a sharp glare. he chuckles to himself once you're out of sight, sighing to himself and preparing to face an irritated Geto once more.

"You know, you're not subtle with your staring."

Your nose scrunches unconsciously as Gojo plops down in the seat next to you, and you choose to pick at your food in an attempt to ignore his presence. His sudden appearance earns you a questioning look from Shoko, who's currently sitting across from you and giving Gojo the occasional irritated look.

"Ah, hello Shoko," Gojo greets, nodding his head at his friend. He places his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm as he reaches over to steal a fry off her plate. "It's been a while."

"I saw you this morning," Shoko replies dryly, rolling her eyes when Gojo waves off her words before turning to face you.

"Why don't you let me help you? It'll get you further than sitting and staring will," he says, holding out his pinky finger and wiggling it in front of your face. "I promise."

"Has it occurred to you that the reason I don't accept your help is because I'm perfectly content with admiring from afar?" you ask as you push your plate away, your appetite now ruined.

"So you're afraid of rejection?" Gojo replies smoothly, taking your tray and munching on your leftover fries. Your expression is a mix of disgust and offense as you watch him, but it quickly shifts to betrayal when Shoko lets out a snort at his words.

"What? He's technically right," Shoko says, trying to defend herself after seeing your withering look. "It's not like you go out of your way to get him to notice you."

"We sit next to each other in class," you mumble, scooting away from Gojo. "We're lab partners and that's enough."

"Wait, you're the one who sits next to him?" Gojo questions, raising a brow when you nod. He finishes the rest of your fries, a pensive look on his face as he does so. You give him an unimpressed look, waiting for him to speak. "You might have a better chance with him than you think."

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you tense up, and you risk another glance at Geto, watching as he converses with Nanami. You shake your head as you turn back to Gojo, who is already looking at you with a knowing smirk.

"Maybe you should listen to him," Shoko comments, taking a bite of her food before continuing. "What's the worst that can happen? Gojo is his friend, after all."

"See! Even Shoko sees how helpful I can be,' Gojo cheers, reaching over to high five Shoko. You bite your lip softly, feeling your stomach twist as you watch Geto smile softly at something Nanami said.

"Fine," you say, giving in. "One chance, Gojo. Don't mess it up, it won't end well for either one of us."

Gojo pumps his fist into the air, earning a weird look from you as he stands up and pats your head.

"You won't regret it. I promise."

"There you are!"

A squeak leaves your lips as Gojo rushes up to you, grabbing you by the hand and dragging alongside him. He doesn't come to a stop until he reaches Shoko and Geto, and you receive a warm smile from Geto and a head nod from Shoko in greeting.

"You two know each other?" Geto asks, slight surprise present on his face as he looks at yours and Gojo's hands. You quickly yank your hand out of his, laughing nervously as Gojo nods.

"Yeah! We've shared a few classes and we study together sometimes," Gojo says, missing the deadly glare you send him. "Similar majors and whatnot, you know the vibe. You should join us sometime, Geto."

"Yeah! The more, the merrier," you spit out, wincing when you feel Gojo's elbow dig into your side. "Shoko, do you want to join."

"I really don't," Shoko replies instantly, smirking as you flounder for a moment.

"I'd like that," Geto says, giving you another smile before turning to Gojo. "We can study after this next lecture, if you're both free?"

"Yeah, we were thinking about that little cafe a couple of minutes off campus," Gojo says, frowning when he notices you walking off with Shoko. A shout of your name has you glancing back, a pout on Gojo's face as he stares after you. "Where are you going?"

"To the cafe," you reply, raising an eyebrow as you cross your arms. "You didn't really expect me to wait out here for the two of you, did you?"

"Just make sure you get a good table!" Gojo says, giving you a lazy grin as you keep walking. You give him a small wave before heading off with Shoko, eventually parting ways with her once you reach the edge of campus.

The cafe Gojo had mentioned was easy enough to find, and you had to admit that it was cozy, the perfect place to sit and study. You manage to snag a table big enough for the three of you, ordering a drink before slipping into study mode. By the time the two boys arrive, you've managed to work through a majority of your lab report.

"Hey," Geto's quiet voice greets you, drawing your attention to him as he takes the seat across from you. You smile in response, shyly averting your eyes when he doesn't look away. Your smile drops when Gojo slides into the seat next to you, his shoulder bumping against yours and causing the pen in your hand to move suddenly, leaving a stray mark behind on your paper.

"Gojo!" you snap, turning to give him a glare. Gojo's face holds a lazy smirk, a pink tint present in his cheeks when he realizes just how close you are. Geto is unable to holds back a soft laugh, watching his usually quiet classmate lose their cool with his best friend.

"How about I buy you a cookie as an apology?" Gojo asks, ignoring Geto's soft laugh.

"Don't bother," you mutter, searching for your roll of Wite-Out. You freeze when Geto's hand comes into your field of vision, his own correction fluid sitting in his palm. You take it from him with a grateful smile, only to have it fall when Gojo leans in, picks up your pen, and scribbles something in the corner of your paper.

'i'm sorry'

You scowl before swiping the Wite-Out over his message, earning an offended gasp from Gojo. He wastes no time before pushes you back, scribbling something else and laughing when you try to snatch your paper away. You succeed after a few tries, smacking his head as you settle down before proceeding to erase all traces of Gojo from your homework.

"Stop being so annoying!" you say, grabbing his face when he tries to lean in and pushing him away.

"I'm not annoying! I'm cute!" Gojo replies, your pen still in his grasp.

"You're a fucking nightmare is what you are," you snap, lunging across his lap for your pen. Gojo pulls it even farther away from you, sticking his tongue out at you when you fail to grab it. You straighten up, placing a knee on your seat to gain some leverage as you throw yourself forward. A yelp leaves Gojo's lips at your action, neither one of you noticing how close you were until the two of you knock heads. Cries of pain leave the both of you, your pen clattering to the floor and rolling around for a bit before being picked up by Geto.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking at you with an amused expression. You smile sheepishly in response, rubbing at your forehead before nodding.

"Hey! What about me?" Gojo whines, glaring at Geto as he places your pen on your notebook.

"Don't be a baby. We both know that you and thick head of yours are fine," Geto chides, pausing slightly before holding up his phone. The devious smirk on his face makes your stomach drop, and you find yourself dreading whatever he's about to say. "Shoko's going to enjoy this video."

You and Gojo groan in unison, causing Geto to snicker before he gets up to order something. You turn to face Gojo, reaching up to yank his hair harshly before speaking.

"You're insufferable. Stop embarrassing me."

"Ow!" Gojo hisses, rubbing his head for a few seconds before winking at you. "Kinky."

The smack you proceed to give Gojo is heard by Geto from his place in line.

Gojo's plan was admittedly not the worst.

As the weeks drag on, you find yourself forming an easy friendship with Geto, occasionally heading over to his shared apartment with Gojo to study. Gojo does his best to miss those study sessions, always giving some lame excuse in order to leave the two of you alone.

It's a little weird, you admit to yourself, not having Gojo around to disrupt your focus. A selfish part of you reminds you that Gojo's absence means that Geto only speaks to you, and you feel a sense of satisfaction when you realize that the quieter boy always seems to be interested in what you have to say, even going as far as making sure his phone is tucked away when you speak. Your conversations with him are always light and fun, and you even earn a few smiles from him when you find yourself ranting about Gojo.

The white-haired menace had quickly become a larger part of your life than you cared to admit, his awful jokes and teasing nudges eventually growing on you. You often found yourself waking up at 2 a.m. to use the restroom, only to be greeted with whatever random meme Gojo had found on the internet late at night.

"And then, he asked if he could call me because he needed help with chem!" you rant, scribbling something down on your paper as Geto snickers. "He kept me up until 4 a.m., Geto. Four in the morning."

You pause to yawn, taking a sip of water afterwards in an attempt to wake yourself up. Geto shakes his head softly, a small smile on his face as he listens to you. He chooses to keep quiet about the fact that Gojo is the top student in his chemistry class.

"You can nap if you want," Geto says, tilting his head towards his bed. You shake your head, opening your mouth to speak only to be cut off by another yawn.

"Just go sleep," he says softly, using one hand to push you away from the table. "I'll continue the assignment."

You pout at his words, ready to argue with him but pausing when he gives you a stern look. You give him a sheepish smile, grabbing your water bottle before giving in and flopping onto his bed. You waste no time in wrapping his blankets around you, sighing softly as you curl up in the middle of the mattress.

"G'night, Geto," you murmur, missing his response as you knock out. Not even five minutes pass before your phone begins to vibrate consistently, causing Geto to scowl at the sudden movement. He looks over at you, still curled up under his sheets, before reaching for your phone with the intention of putting it on silent.

gojo: [8 new messages]

He pauses when he sees your notifications, smirking lightly before reaching for his own phone. He shakes his head slightly as he types out a message, hitting 'send' before setting his phone down.

sugu: leave 'em alone

Gojo's reply is instant, and Geto's phone dings loudly with a notification before he lunges forward to grab his phone and silence it. A quick glance at you is all it takes to confirm you're still deep asleep, and he turns his focus to his conversation.

satoru ♡: why? ;)

Geto rolls his eyes, fingers quickly gliding across his screen as he types out his response.

sugu: they're asleep. i heard you kept 'em up late last night.

Geto watches as Gojo's typing bubble appears and disappears a few times, and he decides to put his phone down when Gojo ultimately doesn't send a reply. He gets back to his assignment, picking up his pen and going over a few problems before he hears a soft knock at his door. Geto grumbles to himself as he wanders over to his door, opening it quietly only to be met with bright, blue eyes.

"When did you get home?" Geto whispers, taking in Gojo's sweatpants and slippers. He raises an eyebrow at his appearance eyes narrowing as he studies him. "You're already in your loungewear. I didn't even hear you come in."

Gojo ignores Geto's words, his eyes drifting over to the lump on Geto's bed. His eyes soften almost imperceptibly, and doesn't look at Geto even when he speaks.

"Come study with me in the living room. Let's let them sleep."

Geto snorts softly at his words but doesn't argue, walking back into his room to gather all his supplies before walking past Gojo. He watches as Gojo softly closes the door, making sure to turn off all the lights before following after Geto. His eyes widen when he sees Geto giving him a knowing look, and he raises an eyebrow in a silent question when he shakes his head.

"You're hopeless, Satoru."

Ever since the afternoon when you had fallen asleep in his bed, Geto started to notice the way Gojo's eyes always seem to linger on you.

It's not until the three of you at at the usual cafe that Geto realizes that maybe (just maybe) Gojo has developed feelings for you. He can't help but smirk as he watches Gojo stare at you, tossing rolled up pieces of his torn-up napkin at you and smiling whenever you swat at him.

When he realizes that you don't plan on turning your attention towards him, Gojo proceeds to pick up his pen and poke your cheek with it repeatedly. You mumble something under your breath, glancing at Geto for help and frowning when he simply shakes his head.

Gojo snickers as he leans in closer, the tip of his pen gliding across your cheek and leaving a mark as you finally whip your head around to face him, a sharp glare on your face when you look at him.

"Gojo!" you hiss, making Geto remember the first time the three of you had ever studied at the cafe. It had been a very similar situation, leading to the two of you knocking heads. Geto raises an eyebrow when he notices just how close you are to Gojo, your nose almost brushing his as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Gojo," you repeat, now a lot calmer than you had previously been. "I would appreciate it if you learned what personal space is and respected mine."

"Uh, you have a little something," Gojo says, reaching over for a napkin and dipping it in a bit of water. He raises his free hand, cupping your cheek and gently turning it to the side so he can wipe at the pen mark on your cheek. "Right here."

Geto holds his breath as he watches the scene playing out in front of him, eyes widening slightly when he sees the way Gojo interacts with you. He has never seen him be so gentle with anyone, and he smirks to himself when he realizes that his speculation about Gojo's feelings for you is most likely true.

"That mark is your fault," you huff lightly, crossing your arms as you attempt to avoid Gojo's gaze. He's ridiculously close, and you pull away quickly when you notice how intently Geto is observing the two of you. Gojo freezes for a few seconds, his fingertips grazing the curve of your cheek as you turn away. He clears his throat loudly, placing the napkin down before standing up.

"I'm gonna, uh, go get a drink," he says, fidgeting slightly before continuing. "Do either of you want anything?"

Geto shakes his head at the same times you respond with your favorite drink, causing Gojo to nod determinedly before making his way over to the counter. You stare after him, shaking your head briefly before turning your attention back to your work and pretending not to notice Geto's gaze on you. The sound of your pen scratching on your paper fills the silence between the two of you, but you find yourself halting your actions when you notice Geto's eyes still focused on you. You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"So, you and Satoru, huh?" Geto asks, mentally laughing when he sees the way your eyes widen. You place your pen down on the table, shaking your head vehemently as you glance at the boy in question.

"Me and him? Ew! No, I like you!" you blurt, slapping a hand over your mouth as you realize what you've just said. The embarrassment you expect never hits you, your face twisting into a scowl instead when Geto laughs loudly.

"No, you don't," Geto replies, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He watches your face twist up in annoyance, your eyes narrowing as you stare him down.

"You can't just decide who I do and don't like," you say, rolling your eyes before looking back down at your work. "I like you, Geto. You're sweet and charming and you're a good guy. I like you, okay?"

"Do you really?"

You look up when Geto slides into the seat next to you, meeting his eyes and blinking slowly when he leans in slightly. His elbow rests on the table, cheek in palm as he stares at you. You meet his gaze easily, eyebrows knitting together when he leans in close, his breath fanning across your lips.

"Yes," you state confidently, your eyes dropping to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze once more. He moves his head forwards slowly, his lips brushing against yours briefly before you jerk back.

"Sorry," you whisper, your hand covering your mouth as you try to process what just happened. "I don't know what—"

"Yes, you do," Geto interrupts, his lips turned up slightly. "Do you really still think you like me?"

"Am I interrupting something?" Gojo asks, face set in a deep frown as he looks at the close proximity between you and Geto. The two of you shake your heads, and Geto slides back into his original seat as Gojo places your drink down in front of you with a loud thud.

"Sure didn't seem like nothing," Gojo grumbles, taking his seat once more and immediately getting back to work. He pauses when he notices your frozen state, softly nudging your shoulder with his to catch your attention. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away and nodding your head to let him know you're fine.

On the inside, you're shaking, silently berating yourself for pulling away from Geto. But you're not naive; you know that somewhere down along the line, meeting Geto's eyes had become easy, and being around him didn't fill your stomach with butterflies the way it used to. Instead, you simply felt the comfort and happiness that came with spending time with a friend, someone who you trusted wholeheartedly.

Taking a sip of your drink, you close your eyes, head spinning with thoughts of Geto's words as you finally accepted what you had been trying so hard to deny.

You could no longer look Gojo Satoru in the eye.

"Fuck you," you mutter the next morning, being met with a smirk from Geto as soon as the two of you walk across campus.

"What's wrong?" he asks, tone slightly mocking as he slings an arm across your shoulders.

"You know exactly what's wrong," you reply, huffing when you feel him rub your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

"Morning," Shoko greets, nodding at the two of you when you come to a stop in front of her and Gojo. You reply quietly, glancing at Gojo to see him already staring at Geto's arm. You attempt to shrug it off casually, ignoring the snicker that leaves Geto's lips at your action.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" Gojo asks, coming to your side and leaning against the wall. You nod silently, suddenly hyperaware of the way his smile seems to be just the slightest bit lopsided. You find yourself wondering how he manages to look good even though you know he stays up late more often than not. "I missed you last night. The video call just wasn't the same after you fell asleep."

"He kept you on the line and yelled at me when I dropped my water bottle," Geto says dully, earning a glare from Gojo.

"It was loud!"

"It fell on the rug! There was barely any sound!" Geto retorts, smirking when he sees Gojo's cheeks darken.

You chuckle nervously, glancing at the time before grabbing Geto's hand and dragging him away. "Well, it's time for class. See you both later!"

Shoko and Gojo watch as you drag Geto down the hall, Gojo's gaze focused on your linked hands. Shoko follows his line of view, snorting as she raises an eyebrow.

"Looks like they finally confessed, huh?" Shoko asks, causing Gojo to turn and give her a bewildered expression. "Oh come on, we all knew they liked each other."

Shoko's sly tone sets off warning bells in Gojo's head, but he can't help the mildly panicked look that spreads across his face at her words.

"Wait," he says, his breath catching in his throat as he pauses. "Geto actually likes them back? I thought he was just friendly with them."

"Why are you so surprised?" Shoko asks, keeping a straight face as she speaks. "Isn't this what you wanted? To help them get together?"

"I—," Gojo pauses, blinking a few times before composing himself. "You're right."

Shoko snorts at Gojo's response, shaking her head when she noticed the conflicted look in his eyes. "You like them."

"No, I don't," Gojo scoffs, avoiding Shoko's gaze as he looks around. A cry of surprise leaves his lips when he feels Shoko's hand grasp his jaw, twisting his face to look in your direction. His eyes soften when they land on you, the corners of his lips twitching as he watches you pout at Geto.

A frown appears on his face as he pulls himself away from Shoko, grabbing his backpack before quickly walking away. She trails after him, lips pulled up in a smirk as she watches him.

"I like them," Gojo eventually mutters, watching Shoko's smirk grow.

"I know," she quips, earning a dirty look from him. "You should tell them. They still haven't confessed to Geto and I've never seen you act this way over anyone."

Gojo stops walking at Shoko's words, giving her a distraught look as he processes her words. "You lied to me?"

"Yeah."

Neither you nor Gojo notice the satisfied nods that Shoko and Geto exchange during lunch.

It's abnormally silent, with Gojo shoveling his food into his mouth while you just push yours around. Geto looks at the two of you before glancing at Shoko, wondering if they should be the ones to break the silence.

Geto opens his mouth to speak, finally having had enough of the silence, only to stop when Shoko places a hand on his arm. She tilts her head towards Gojo, noticing the way he keeps glancing at you and your food. There's a soft smile on his lips, one that Geto had seen Gojo give you one too many times while the three of you had studied together.

"So," Gojo starts, stretching the words out as he leans in close to you. "Are you gonna finish that?"

An annoyed expression flits across your face, and Geto and Shoko lean back in their seats as they watch the two of you.

"Hello? Anybody in there?" Gojo asks, scooting closer to you when you ignore him. He wraps an arm around the back of your seat, a big, teasing grin on his face as he looks at you over his sunglasses.

You remain in place, doing your best to ignore both the close proximity between the two of you and the slight racing of your heart. You can feel Gojo looming over you, and you're all too aware of the cocky smile on his face as he watches you.

"Are you ignoring me right now?" he asks, humming lightly when he doesn't receive an answer. Shoko and Geto watch as he grabs his chopsticks, inching them closer and closer to your food. He stops when your hand clamps down on his, tightly grabbing it and pushing it away from your plate.

"Stop," you scold, rolling your eyes when he makes another attempt. "You finished your meal, leave mine alone."

"But I'm still hungry!" he whines, successfully managing to steal a bite. "Besides, it's not like you're eating it."

"Shove it, Gojo!" you snap, pulling your food away and turning to face him. You feel your cheeks flood with heat when you meet his eyes, and you watch as his smirk slowly drops into a soft smile.

"Not ignoring me anymore?" he asks, snickering when you roll your eyes.

"No, but I can start again," you scoff, smacking his chopsticks our of his hand as he goes in for more food. He whines softly, pouting as he holds up his reddening hand.

"You're so mean!" he complains, shoving his hand in your face. "I know what you can do to fix this. Kiss it better!"

"Kiss it yourself," you retort, pushing his hand down onto the table. "I don't want to be anywhere near your disgusting hand."

"My hand is not disgusting!" he exclaims. "It's super clean. I wash my hands."

"I'm sure you do."

"I do! Just ask Geto!"

"I sincerely doubt it," you retort, absentmindedly swiping at his hand. Your action causes his hand to slide across the table, and Gojo's body lurches forward at the loss of balance. The two of you freeze when his lips brush against yours, eyes wide as your breaths mingle.

"The two of you make me sick," Shoko comments, although her words are lighthearted. "I'm gonna go smoke, I don't know how much more of Gojo's lovesick smiles I can handle."

The two of you separate when you hear Geto snort, exchanging soft apologies as you look anywhere but each other.

"So I'm guessing that Gojo wasn't exactly hungry for food," Geto teases, his tone dry as the two of you look at him. You flip him off, earning a chuckle from Shoko as she walks off.

"You can say that again," Gojo jests, laughing when you smack his chest. He grabs your hand swiftly, pushing it away and stopping your attack. "Why are you hitting me? That was funny!"

Geto takes in your embarrassed expression, fighting back a smile before he stands up as well. "I'll leave you two alone."

You watch as Geto walks away, following after Shoko and leaving you and Gojo in silence.

"So," Gojo starts, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "You didn't pull away."

"No, I didn't," you reply quietly, still not looking at Gojo.

"You're trembling," Gojo says, your hand shaking slightly in his hold. "Why?"

You stay silent, only tightening your hold on his hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

"You like me," Gojo states softly, finally drawing your attention to him. A smile tugs at his lips when you meet his eyes, and he pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head when you nod. "What happened to liking Geto?"

You shrug lazily, making a noncommittal noise at you let him pull you towards him. He leans down to press a kiss against your temple, making you look up at him with mild surprise on your face.

"Can we try that again?"

Gojo leans in when you nod, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest as he presses his lip to yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, shyly moving your lips against Gojo's in response. He slips his hand out of yours in order to wrap it around your back, pulling you closer to him as his other hand pulls you half into his lap . Your hands press against his chest, balling up the fabric of his shirt in your fists as you try to process the fact that you're currently kissing Gojo Satoru.

The smell of his cologne makes your head spin, and you can't help the way your press yourself closer to him as he tilts your head up to deepen the kiss.

"So... am I a good kisser?" Gojo asks when the two of you pull away, leaning his forehead against yours as he observes you.

"Gojo," you sigh, shifting out of his lap but remaining in his arms.

"I think I am," he continues, eyes shining as he looks at you. "Especially with the way you were kissing back and—"

"Gojo!"

"—and the way you pressed yourself closer to me, and—"

"Satoru!" you finally yell, getting his attention. He stops talking, blinking at the sound of his first name before answering.

"Yeah?"

"What are we?" you ask, pausing slightly before shaking your head. "What was that? Why did you do that?"

Gojo scoffs, moving his hands to cup your face. "Isn't it obvious? I kind of like you."

"Only kind of?" you ask, your stomach twisting as you tease him.

"Ok, fine," Gojo concedes, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I really like you."

A pause ensues between the two of you, and you raise an eyebrow when you notice Gojo pouting.

"What?" you ask, unable to look away from him due to his hands still cupping your face.

"You're supposed to say it back," he says, a low whine leaving his lips when you remain silent. You snicker softly, reaching up to grab his hands and holding them in your own.

"Gojo Satoru," you begin, sending him a soft smile that has his heart melting. "You're a fucking nightmare—"

"Hey!"

"And you're pretty annoying, and rude, and petty, and—"

"Ok! I get it!"

"But!" you say, giving him a look that screamed 'shut up!'. "I kind of really like you too."

Gojo grins before leaning in to peck your lips, chuckling when he hears you squeak in surprise.

"So," he says, an alarmingly devious smile on his face. "Does this mean that now i'm the only one that makes your heart race and palms sweat?"

You glare at him as he giggles, getting up and grabbing your stuff before walking away.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"To find Geto," you reply dryly, smirking when you hear Gojo scrambling after you.

"You don't mean that, right? Babe?"

A laugh leaves your lips as Gojo catches up to you, gently taking your backpack from you and swinging it over his shoulder. He reaches for your hand and pulls you close to him, his offended expression softening when he sees you laughing.

Sure, Gojo Satoru was a fucking nightmare, but you couldn't deny that he really did make your heart race. And you were lucky enough to have him in your life.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!