#& then writing kind of what I see with small adjustments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avatarchic · 10 months ago

Text

— FOREIGNER

How the Karasuno boys would react to meeting Shoyo's foreign cousin.

— starring. karasuno boys x foreign exchange student!reader (separately), student teacher!reader in ukai's

— tags. fluff, first meetings, pining

— warnings. use of 'pretty' and 'cute' to describe reader, but no pronouns are used, you slap ryuu in his LOL, mild suggestive comment in ryuu's if you squint

— requested? yes! thank you so much for your request this was fun to write :)

— notes. some of these are longer than others sorry ADHKWH my biases are showing a lil // this ended up being a first meeting + how they act when they start crushing on you, but it they're so cute so i didnt wanna change it lolol

daichi is whipped for you from the start

he doesn't show it (or he doesn't think he does) but he's attracted to you the second he lays eyes on you

he's extra sure to be polite to you, too embarrassed too show his brasher nature in case it scares you off

he loses his backbone whenever you're around

he needs to scold some of the first years for goofing off, but you're standing there? he's all sunshine and rainbows

when he finds out that you're a foreign exchange student, he's over the moon

he subtly finds out your classes from shoyo, who of course doesn't realize his intentions as he blurts out your schedule happily

he checks up on you often, making sure you're adjusting well to japan because "what kind of captain would he be if he let his underclassman's cousin have a hard time?"

the team is none the wiser, except for maybe koshi who sees through his shit immediately

he has a habit of patting your head as a greeting, even if he's just passing you in the hallways even if you complain about him messing up your hair

overall, he's super soft with you :)

sawamura daichi! was annoyed when he met you. shoyo hadn't shown up to practice and wasn't answering his phone, which left the captain ready to send the orange-haired freshman to an early grave. after kei made a smart remark that he saw shoyo lingering near the school entrance, he was on a mission to give the boy hell.

kei was right, of course. when daichi made his way to the entrance, he saw shoyo right away. he stomps over, lips parting to lecture the younger male about responsibilities when his eyes ghost over you. he stops short, shoyo's name barely dropping from his mouth as he pauses.

when you both turn to him, daichi feels his breath catch in his throat. it was clear that you weren't from around here. your odd sense of dress stuck out like a sore thumb—not to mention he had never seen you before. but if anything, he thought you were pretty.

"you're late for practice," daichi states lamely, barely managing to tear his gaze away from you to glower at shoyo. "i ought to put you on cleaning duty tonight."

the threat fell on deaf ears, shoyo's large grin unfaltering as he wraps an arm around your midsection in a tight hug. "captain! sorry, sorry," he apologizes, though the wide grin on his face told daichi he wasn't serious. "my cousin texted me that they were here, so i had to say hi!"

at his words, you finally snap out of your stupor, offering daichi a small smile. "i didn't realize he had practice. i wouldn't have called him out if i knew."

daichi presses his lips together, feeling his ears warm at your kind tone. "it's okay," he says softly. "i'll let him off for now. it's nice to meet you—i'm sawamura daichi."

when you introduce yourself, he finds himself repeating your name in his head.

"oi," he clears his throat, turning to shoyo with a deadpan expression. "c'mon. we're late enough already." daichi turns to bow his head at you politely, quickly turning around before you can see the warmth in his cheeks.

your sweet voice calls out a goodbye, and daichi decides then and there that he wants to get to know you better.

"hey, hey—why are you so red?"

"you're gonna shut up now if you want to go home early tonight."

koshi didn't realize you were shoyo's cousin until after he got to know you a little

he couldn't help it—when he saw you he just thought you were super cute lmao

he fumbles a bit in front of you

he really really tries to be a cool, calm, and collected person but sometimes he embarrasses himself by saying odd things or staring at you a little too long

when he does figure out you're related to his underclassman, he takes the opportunity to get to know you better

and when he finds out you're in his homeroom? even better

the type to arrange study session together with you every weekend just to spend time with you

he actually invites you to watch their practices and games before shoyo does LOL

the whole team knows about his feelings and he doesn't even care, constantly throwing an arm over you shoulder and hanging around you during downtimes

wants to impress you, so he gives it his all (and then some) whenever you're there

his sets get more accurate and he even blocks more hits than he would've before

he really wants you to think he's cool

but if you compliment him, he's exploding on the spot

suguwara koshi! had no idea you were shoyo's cousin when he met you. you looked nothing alike and your personalities were completely different. despite you being a complete stranger, the lost look on your face amused him.

you met koshi when shoyo accidentally stranded you at the train station. you were supposed to take the same train to his house, but he didn't notice you weren't right behind him when he stepped into the train car. the last you saw of the tangerine-haired boy was the back of his head as the doors closed on you.

you were standing there in a panic, though no one stopped to check if you were okay. shoyo had you hold his schoolbag while he dragged your suitcase along, and when you tried calling his cellphone you heard it buzz in the bag that hung on your shoulder. for the life of you, you couldn't remember which stop to get off or which streets to take to get to his house.

"are you lost?" a gentle voice asks you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts.

your eyes meet and koshi can't help but think you're cute as hell. you look doe-eyed in your panic, rounded eyes and parted lips. when you don't answer right away, koshi's cool demeanor switches and he stumbles into an embarrassed frenzy. "wait, can you even understand japanese?"

thankfully, you do, having learned it from shoyo at a younger age. you blink away the remnants of your panic with a few hasty nods. "yes, sorry. my cousin accidentally left me here, and i don't really know how to get to his house..."

koshi calms down at your insistence, chuckling to himself. "do you know the address?"

you wince, "no."

"alright," he says in a way that he hopes is soothing for you. "i can keep you company while you wait for him to return, then. it'd probably be nicer than just standing here by yourself."

when you agree, he hides his smile. he asks you several icebreakers, such as your name and your favourite colour. with every passing second, he only thinks you're even cuter than when he first saw you.

eventually, shoyo does come back, panting and heaving as he runs up the stairs to the station platform. his bright eyes widen when he sees you together with koshi. "oh, sugawara? you've met my cousin?"

koshi meets your eyes with a grin. "i guess we'll be seeing each other more often."

honestly asahi doesn't even acknowledge you when you first meet

he doesn't find out you're shoyo's cousin for weeks, so you're really just another classmate to him

you don't even talk to each other until like a month or so after you transferred

and even then, your conversations are short

he's polite to you when you work together, but he doesn't really try to become friends with you

don't get him wrong! he thinks you're nice and pretty, but he is too damn shy to initiate anything with you

you kinda think he hates you at first, but after you realize that he's just not an outgoing person you relax around him

when he does find out you're related to shoyo, you end up seeing each other more often out of class

you show up to more practices, even if you're just sitting on the benches doing homework

shoyo even drags you along whenever the team meets up outside of school to hang out

as a result, you and asahi eventually grow closer and he opens up more bit by bit

he doesn't actually start crushing on you until graduation nears

he realizes it when he hears you cheering his name at one of their bigger games

he thinks his name sounds prettier coming from you

he doesn't initiate any skinship with you, but he's always asking about your day and checking on you in his own ways

will absolutely combust if you even so much as brush pinkies as you're walking together

azumane asahi! first met you in class. like koshi, he doesn't know you're related to shoyo initially. when the teacher introduces you, making you write your name on the board, you don't have the same last name as shoyo. he doesn't really pay much attention to you, minding his own business as he takes out his notebook and pens.

several weeks pass and your homeroom teacher announces that you'll be partnering up for a group presentation. your first real conversation with him goes as expected—you exchange contact information and go your separate ways when the bell rings.

he thinks you're attractive, but he's too shy to actually act on those thoughts and he just pushes through the project, interacting with you as little as possible.

it's only when shoyo forgets his volleyball uniform at your house that asahi figures out you're related.

he sees you first, standing in the gym entrance while you wait to be invited in. you look hesitant as your eyes cast over the several members of the volleyball club, your gaze landing on asahi. when recognition flickers behind your eyes, he thinks you're there for him.

he opens his mouth to greet you, but before he can even utter a word, an orange blur runs past him. you're almost knocked on your ass as shoyo tackles you, excitedly calling out your name. "what're you doing here?" he asks you, tilting his head as he releases you from his death grip. "you never come to practice."

"you left your uniform at mine," you explain quietly, pulling the clothing out of your bag.

there's a moment of silence, before all hell breaks loose. the others scream and yell at shoyo, yuu and ryuunosuke shaking him by the shoulders as they demand why they weren't informed about his girlfriend.

even asahi's jaw drops at the thought of you, his classmate and group partner, dating shoyo, of all people.

"we aren't dating!" you exclaim, shaking your hands in front of you adamantly as disgust paints over your facial features. "we're cousins."

as the club eventually quiets down, you meet asahi's gaze over the commotion. when you offer him a bashful smile, he can't help but return it.

as expected, yuu is also whipped for you the second you meet

he swears on his life that he has never met someone as perfect as you—not even kiyoko (which says a lot)

at first, his attraction to you is entirely physical and he doesn't hide it

he compliments you every time he sees you he even compliments your outfits even if you're just wearing the karasuno uniform

he practically begs shoyo to bring you to practice just so he has an excuse to ogle at you and profess his 'undying love'

you'd probably make good friends with kiyoko, bonding over the second years' unabashed feelings and loud professions of love lol

though he's completely smitten with your looks, yuu doesn't learn a thing about you until like two months after your transfer

he realizes it when koshi asks if he knows anything about you and no, the fact that you're pretty doesn't count as something

during a late night run to the nearest convenience store, he runs into you

you're dressed casually, and he realizes it's actually the first time he's seen you outside of uniform

he thinks you're very cute in your bunny pajamas

he approaches you with koshi's words in mind, and asks if you want to hang out for a bit

your hang outs become a common thing, and eventually it's your weekend tradition to meet at the convenient store after sundown

after really getting to know you, he realizes that he likes more than just your appearance

shockingly, once he figures out his feelings for you, he tones down a lot

he would stop confessing his love for you every moment he could, but he gets casually affectionate with you

he'd always stand close enough for your shoulders to touch and would absentmindedly guide you places by taking your hand

he's never had a real crush on anyone before, so he's feeling it out with you

nishinoya yuu! has hearts in his eyes the moment he meets you. shoyo brought you to practice one day, excited to introduce his favourite cousin to his teammates. he had all but dragged you to the gym by the wrist, ignoring your insistent utterings that you can walk on your own.

"this is my cousin!" shoyo announces the second he bursts through the doors in true hinata shoyo fashion. you were the last ones to show up, so the entire team was there to witness you getting dragged in by shoyo. "they transferred here from overseas."

yuu feels the world stop once he glances over at you after receiving a particularly harsh spike from tobio, freezing into his squatted position. his world becomes a romcom movie—he swears someone must be blowing a fan in your direction with the way your hair sways as you walk into the gym. he might even be seeing the air sparkle in your presence.

he's absolutely starstruck with you, and he makes no effort to hide it as he bounds over to you. he takes your hands in his, looking at you with wide eyes as he takes you in. he can hear someone groaning, maybe daichi, as they mutter something along the lines of "he's at it again."

"i'm nishinoya yuu," he introduces himself. "you're really cute!"

your mouth opens, but no words come out as you simply stare at yuu in surprise. shoyo had given you a brief rundown of his group members, and you realize that this might be why he warned you about the libero in particular.

even when daichi smacks the back of his head, apologizing to you quietly, yuu remains in his lovestruck gaze.

you stay to watch their practice, at both shoyo and yuu's insistence, and yuu makes a point to be even more extravagant than usual. you can't help but laugh at his boisterous rolling receives and the way he calls out ridiculous move names.

oh ryuu. typical ryuu.

the first words he ever speaks to you end up with him getting slapped

like yuu, he thinks you've been blessed by the gods with your looks and he makes it clear to you when you meet

he asks you to go out with him, only to blatantly check you out right after, which earned him a smack to the face

eventually, he does apologize for his behaviour, though you don't accept it right away

when you tell him that you hate guys who treat others like eye candy, he's sure to tone it down for you

of course, a man can't change overnight

he still flirts with you, and with other women—he can't help it ;( him n yuu are menaces

however, when he's not being an absolute pest, he gets to know you

he learns about your interests and hobbies, and finds himself indulging you in them (who would've thought he'd end up enjoying the art of bracelet making?)

when you become close friends, you become his person

he goes to you whenever he wants to talk about something, and he lends an ear whenever you need to vent

he asks you about your home country often, wanting to know more about your life before you came to japan

he'd even go out of his way to do things for you that remind you of home whenever you start feeling homesick :)

it's not until well after graduation when he realizes that he might actually like you

tanaka ryuunosuke! was mid confession when you met. shoyo had brought you to one of their games, and just as ryuunosuke was getting on his knees to ask kiyoko to marry him, his eyes fall on you.

it's almost astounding how quickly the second year moved from the glasses-wearing beauty to you, appearing in front of you in an instant. before shoyo can even introduce you, he stares you down with a steeled expression, his eyes narrowing.

"you're the prettiest person i've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," he claims in his most serious tone. he takes your hands in his as he presses his lips to your knuckles. "please go out with me."

there's a collective sigh as the team turns away at his antics. you, on the other hand, feel your head pound in irritation. "excuse me?"

ryuunosuke doesn't hear the vexation in your tone, or chooses to ignore it, as his eyes trail over your features. even when you're staring at him in an angry disbelief, he thinks you're incredibly pretty. however, as his eyes drop lower and lower, his mind enters a less-than-appropriate headspace.

the feeling of your hand connecting with his cheek rips him out of his lewd daydreams. you didn't slap him hard, but the sound echoed over the loud chatter of the audience members anyway. "you pervert," you utter, gritting your teeth as you turn on your heel. you barely tell shoyo good luck as you all but stomp off to the bleachers.

ryuunosuke stares at your back, holding his reddening cheek in mild awe. yuu nudges his side. "don't tell me you're into that, man."

he at least has the grace to blush.

to be honest, you and tobio do not get along until much later

it's not because you're related to shoyo it is

he just genuinely has no idea how to talk to you lmao

you meet him on the first day of school with shoyo

the realization that he may be teammates with the very guy he had practically berated in middle school took priority over greeting you tbh

it's only after their initial fight when he realizes that you, a complete stranger, saw him yell at shoyo as harshly as he did (even if shoyo didn't have many nice things to say either)

he's kinda embarrassed abt it tbh

like?? you had to see him like that?? he's mortified

so when he joins the volleyball club and you're a manager, he avoids you like the plague

when he talks to you, he accidentally comes across as if he hates your guts (he doesn't, he just cannot properly converse with people to save his life)

your relationship is extremely terse for months, since you get pissed off at his behaviour and he doesn't know how to act normally around you

he doesn't warm up to you until one of their games later in the season, where the morale is low and the team is hanging their heads

you give them an uplifting speech, telling the team that they're stronger than they think

it's the first time tobio looks at you in a pleasant light, and he merely puts a hand on your shoulder to say thanks as he makes his way back to the court

slowburn as fuck tbh he might not even realize he likes you until you're about to graduate (cut him some slack he's only a lil slow)

kageyama tobio! barely acknowledges your existence when you meet. you had moved to japan before their first year at karasuno began, so you showed up with shoyo to the first day.

of course, tobio recognized shoyo immediately from their encounter in middle school. shoyo had dragged you to the gym to go with him to sign up for the volleyball club, insistent that you try to apply to be a manager or something. tobio was there, about to spike a volleyball.

the second shoyo and tobio lock eyes on each other, they're at it like cats and dogs, and you're left standing there in confusion. seeing shoyo as angry as he was is shocking to you and you wonder what the hell this other guy must've done to rile up your sunshine cousin so much.

tobio doesn't even look at you as he argues with shoyo, not meeting your eyes until after the fight has 'calmed' down. he stares at you quietly for a moment before averting his gaze, grumbling something under his breath as he leaves to retrieve the volleyball shoyo made him drop.

he doesn't say anything to you as you talk quietly with daichi about becoming a manager. he vaguely overhears shoyo introducing you as his cousin, but he's too annoyed to listen.

later on, when him and shoyo are finally accepted into the club, and you're brought on as a manager-in-training, tobio still ignores you.

you don't have your first conversation until a week later, when you corner him after practice. "what is your problem?" you demand, your hands propped on your hips. "i know you don't like sho, but you haven't said a single word to me since you joined the club."

tobio flushes in embarrassment as he stares at you. he doesn't mean to, but his eyes narrow into what could be perceived as a harsh glare. "i don't have anything to say," he says truthfully, his voice coming out colder than necessary.

when he rushes off to hide his growing fluster, you're left standing there confused.

you and kei barely interacted at first tbh

he had never seen you before and it was the weekend when you met so he had no reason to assume you'd ever talk again really

even after finding out you were related to shoyo, he didn't bat an eye

after all, he's not exactly going over to the orange-haired boy's house for sleepovers lolol

but to his surprise, you're in his classroom the next monday morning as a foreign exchange student

your classmates rush to you, overwhelming you with numerous questions about your hometown, and it's clear to kei that you're flustered

you meet his gaze over the crowd of people, and for a moment you're shocked to see him

however, before either of you can do anything, you get bombarded with even more questions

to your surprise and his, kei scoffs as he approaches your crowded desk

"can't you see you're bothering them?"

the gaggle of students dissipates with embarrassed apologies, leaving you and kei alone

your relationship with him from then on is odd

there's an unspoken agreement that you both don't like being bothered by other people, and you lowkey bond over it

he would never admit you're friends, but he comes to your rescue often

if you can't understand a phrase or if you don't know the answer to a question in class, he'll quietly help you out (but don't bother asking about it, 'cus he'll deny it vehemently)

when you start hanging out during practices, he ruffles your hair and rests his arm on your head regardless of your height

making fun of you is his love language (not that he'd ever admit he has feelings)

tsukishima kei! meets you when you're babysitting natsu. the team had been out getting ice cream (as per koshi's insistence—for team building), leaving kei in a sour mood because he would rather be anywhere than here.

"shoyo! sho!"

the whole team looks over, seeing a little girl who is the spitting image of their short middle blocker running toward them. kei's expression drops even more, because there's two of them?

shoyo almost drops his ice cream cone with the way the little girl jumps on him. "what are you doing here?" shoyo asks, scrambling to catch his sweet treat. "where's—"

before he can finish his sentence, another figure comes running at them, out of breath. "natsu!" you scold airily as you make your way up to the team, hunching over and resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. "jesus, don't just run off like that!"

you look up at shoyo from your hunched position, letting kei get a good look at your face. you're flushed, sweat beading on your brow bone and lips are parted as you breathe harshly through them. it's clear to the blond that you've been running around for some time now, something that makes him snort into his strawberry ice cream cup.

"sorry, sho," you wince, practically dragging the little girl, natsu, to your side. "she ran off while i was paying for her snacks. she probably saw you through the window." you vaguely gesture to a nearby convenience store, holding up a bag of candy.

you talk with shoyo for another moment, before turning to the rest of the team. your eyes briefly meet kei's and he arches a brow at you. you apologize for interrupting them, but daichi insists that you're fine and that you and natsu can hang around since you're there anyway.

as a result, you and kei end up standing near each other as the group converses. kei had been hanging a little bit away from the others, minus tadashi of course. you end up near him by coincidence—you don't know the others, and the three of you end up quietly sitting in acknowledgement that you didn't want to talk.

my darling baby tadashi is a mess when you meet <3

he was practicing his volleyball skills when he accidentally whams you in the face

he'd feel guilty about it for a while (even if you insist you're fine) and would use it as an excuse to buy you drinks from the vending machines lol

"this is the fourth drink you've bought me this week??"

"i have to make up for hitting you somehow :((("

becoming friends with tadashi is surprisingly easy, given how shy he can be

it becomes a habit to meet you by the vending machines before practice

the time in the halls between classes and volleyball are spent getting to know you

he asks a lot of questions about what it's like in your hometown and the differences in your culture

i don't think he'd start liking you until after you also get close with kei though lol good luck

the first time he sees you joking around with the tall blond, he thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest

you must be an angel, he decides as he watches you get along with kei

the three of you form a trio and you end up spending more time with them than shoyo LOL

kei absolutely knows about tadashi's feelings and takes every opportunity to tease him about it whilst you're blissfully unaware

he's so so smitten around you after he realizes he likes you

the type to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky yourself and to becoming maddeningly red whenever you so much as make eye contact with him

yamaguchi tadashi! hits you in the head the first time he meets you. he was in the gym alone, practicing his float serve. you pushed through the heavy metal doors just in time to get slammed in the face with a ball gone awry.

he feels his heart drop to his toes as he quickly rushes over to you, asking if you're alright and if you need to see the nurse. his panic only worsens when he realizes you're bleeding from your nose.

although the hit shocked you, you're left watching in amusement as tadashi scrambles to find something to stop your nosebleed with. when he eventually returns to you, having ran from the boys washroom to grab a wad of papertowel, he apologizes again softly.

"are you okay now...?" he asks when your nosebleed finally stops. he looks almost like a kicked puppy, his hair falling limply into his eyes.

even after you reassure him that you're fine, tadashi still wears his guilt like a crown. he offers to buy you something from the vending machines, and does so despite your insistence that he doesn't need to.

"you can accept it for my sake," he says sheepishly as he offers you the cold can. the two of you converse quietly, with you introducing yourself as a new foreign exchange student.

"oh!" he suddenly lets out, looking over at you. "did you need something in the gym?"

"i was looking for my cousin," you sigh. "he said he was in the volleyball club and i haven't been able to find him at all today."

he's shocked when he finds out that you're shoyo's cousin—the boy had talked about you earlier in the week when he found out you were transferring to karasuno. as you talk, tadashi thinks to himself that shoyo never mentioned how cute you were.

your first meeting with keishin is awkward

ltrly knocks you off your feet when he runs into you

he's kind of brash when he meets you, not caring if you think of him badly because of it

you don't have much of a relationship at first—your work pulls you to the classrooms after all, so he doesn't really see you around often

the next time he sees you, you're stomping into the gymnasium mid practice with an irked expression

he's about to tell you off for interrupting practice, but he quiets when he sees you make your way to your younger cousin

he only watches in amusement when you tell him off for his horrid grades

when shoyo turns to keishin for help, he only shrugs with a lazy grin on his face

"sorry, little man, you heard 'em. no volleyball games until you raise your grades"

to shoyo's chagrin, you and keishin make a terrifying pair for him (and the other three idiots lolol)

you only really start hanging out with him when you end up making a late night run at his convenience store

it's the first time he sees you in casual clothing and the case of beer in your hands makes him laugh

"you wanna share that?"

he becomes your drinking buddy every other weekend, and he grows to cherish the time you spend chugging back cans of beer with him

keeps his feelings on the downlow, but as time goes on even the boys realize that their coach has a soft spot for you

ukai keishin! bodies you the first time you meet. the man doesn't realize his own strength until he literally knocks you flat on his ass after he turns a corner and bumps into you. his eyes go wide when the books and papers in your hands go flying, falling around you in a frenzy.

"shit," he curses under his breath, bending down to pick up your things. "sorry 'bout that." his voice is gruff as he speaks, collecting your papers without much care. when he returns them to you, some of them are scuffed and crumpled.

as he's handing you your things, he finally gets a good look at you. you're dressed more formally than he is by a mile. he holds a hand out to help you to your feet, his brown eyes falling to the lanyard around your neck.

"you new here?" he asks, jutting his chin out to gesture to your nametag. student teacher is typed above your name and picture.

you nod deftly, brushing off any dirt from your dress pants. "i started today. and you are?" your eyes meet his, and he knows you're silently scrutinizing him. he's much too old to be a student, you deduce easily, but he's dressed far more casually than any other other teachers.

when your eyes drift up to his bleached hair, he snorts. "i'm the coach for the volleyball club," he grumbles. "i don't need to be wearing fancy shit like you."

he sees your eyes light up in recognition as he analyzes your face with crossed arms. "the volleyball club? you must know my cousin then. hinata shoyo?"

keishin deadpans at you. "you're the runt's cousin?"

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

4K notes · View notes

singmyaubade · 3 months ago

Text

the greatest heist

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james's girlfriend decides to fuck with you, your only other choice is to fuck with her.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, wearing, jealousy

a/n: this story was an OLD draft and i kind of wanted to finish it so yeah. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

part 1 | part 2

THE sun peeked through the curtains of your dorm room, casting a warm glow that made your bed feel like the most comfortable place in all of Hogwarts.

You groaned as you felt someone shaking your bed, a voice calling out urgently.

"Y/N!” They yelled again, the bed shaking more forcefully.

“For fuck’s sake!" you mumbled, sitting up and squinting against the bright light. "What do you want?”

"Wake up!" Dorcas stood there, clearly annoyed. “We have astronomy in two minutes!”

That definitely jolted you awake.

You practically leaped out of bed, catching sight of Dorcas rushing to button her shirt. “Fuck!” you exclaimed, quickly slipping into your tights and skirt.

“Why did nobody wake us up?” you asked, frustration bubbling as you glanced at your roommates. It was a mix of annoyance at them and yourself.

“Bloody fucking twats,” Dorcas muttered. “I’m going to stick my wand so far up their arse once I get to that tower.”

“Count me in,” you replied, hurriedly putting on your shoes—still not fully laced—and adjusting your tie.

You grabbed your book bag. “Come on!” Dorcas urged, already heading for the door.

You both practically ran to the stairs, unready for the most strenuous workout of your life. You both huffed in frustration as the stairs moved.

You looked up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs, frustration boiling over. "These stairs are a fucking safety hazard," You hissed. "Do they not care if we die?"

Dorcas crossed her arms, panting slightly. “Dumbledore is definitely getting my letter of complaints,” She ranted. “I mean, I understand we’re young wizards and witches, but Merlin, are these stairs really bloody necessary?”

You chuckled as the stairs set in place and you both rushed to the top quickly.

You both huffed, clearly out of breath as you both pressed on, each step feeling like a small victory.

With a force of urgency, you opened the door to your Astronomy class as the entire class turned their heads to you. You could hear several students snickering, specifically the Slytherins as you flipped them off.

Professor Adair turned to you both with a sigh. “Nice to see you, ladies. May I gift one of you a watch for Christmas?” He asked sarcastically, prompting a few snickers from the class.

Desperately trying to catch your breath, you replied, “Apologies, Professor. I’m afraid my alarm didn’t go off.” You quickly took your seat next to Sirius, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Mine too!" Dorcas argued, "And to be fair, I mean this class is pretty high.” She moved next to Dorcas.

Professor Adair rolled his eyes, continuing with the class with a mutter about the two of you.

“You know,” Sirius leaned into you, “If you need a proper alarm-“ He slyly said, hand almost touching your thigh.

You stomped on his leg as he groaned, touching the injured limb.

“Note taken.” He hissed.

You smirked as you started writing down a note in your notebook which you made into a paper plane, flying it over to Lily.

She looked at you hesitantly, opening it.

Why did you not wake me or Dorcas up?

She looked at you, looking confused as the angry look on your face never faded. She began writing down her response which she sent to you.

Emma told us all that she would wake you both up and when she came to Astronomy, she said she did.

A fuse blew inside of you, of course Emma was behind this. It makes sense that she would be the one to do it considering how she treated your entire friend group.

For context, Emma was all of your supposed “best friend” which would be a fine label if she didn’t sabotage anyone who she thought was a threat.

At first, she considered Lily a threat because of how much others loved her especially James Potter. So instead of asking Lily to put a good word in for her with the others and James, she started spreading horrid rumors about her.

And everyone being cruel teenagers believed her, berating her wherever she went.

It took the entire girl group and the Marauders to make people back off and debunk these rumors.

Although you and the rest of the girls knew that Emma had done this, she had gaslighted Lily into thinking that it was obviously some bitter Slytherin that were jealous instead of her and eventually, the situation turned boring and died down into nothing.

But that wasn't even the end.

Soon after, she considered Mary a threat due to how smart and confident she was and decided to get her absolutely hammered before OWL'S.

And it caused her to get a poor score which resulted in her not leaving her bed for weeks.

But again, Mary had blamed herself and told everyone that it was "her stupid decision" that led to this.

After that, it had been Marlene.

Then suddenly, it had been Dorcas.

And now you were clearly her new target for what reason? Merlin knows.

The only reason she didn't wake Dorcas up was because she knew she couldn't single you out. Emma knew you disliked her from the moment you met her and you weren't as nice about it.

Now, you may not know why she was targeting you at the present moment but the boy in front of you laughing with Remus could've been a huge clue.

James Potter.

Golden Boy, Heart-throbber, Fit, Kind, Funny, Brave, Determined, Bold.. I mean did you really have to go on?

The man that Emma had been in love with for years and had been dating for the present moment.

And not only was no girl allowed to approach James without dealing with Emma but she would pay hell for even making eyes at him.

Unfortunately for you, James had been struggling a bit for charms and enlisted your help in studying. At first, you had gave him a 'fuck no' before moving in order to not get his girlfriends wrath but when he pleaded and begged,

You forfeited.

You were hoping that he would keep it a secret but James being the dumbass he is mentioned how much of a good time it was to the entire group, Emma grew as red as a tomato.

You mentally cursed James, knowing that your life was already going to become a living hell.

Fortunately, you kept most stuff to yourself and never confided in Emma with anything.

There was nothing that Emma could do to incriminate you with but you just knew that she wouldn't back down and there was nothing you could do.

You did do your best to keep away from her but Lily couldn't stop hanging out with her which made the rest of your group completely vulnerable.

At the same time, you couldn't blame Lily for being so gullible and kind-hearted but it made her a pushover and Emma could guilt trip her way out of anything.

So if Emma was going to play this game, you were alone.

And you had to be the best player.

The bell chimed, bring you out of thought as you began packing up.

Emma came over to you, "Y/N! I'm so sorry that I didn't try harder to wake you and Dorcas." She hummed, "I thought you were fully up by time the time I left." She faked a sincere smile.

"Yeah Emma, I think it would be best if you never enlist yourself to such a task again, I'm afraid it requires a bit more of a brain hmm?" You sweetly said, leaving the conversation as she scowled towards you.

You rushed over to Remus, "Remus, please tell me you have the notes for this class." You pouted, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"Of course." He told you, beginning to grab his notebook out of his book-bag.

"Thank you so much," You gratefully said as you began walking with them.

"Wait, why didn't you ask me?" Sirius asked, pouting.

You let out a snort, "Have you seen your handwriting?" You derided as James and Peter laughed.

Sirius fake sniffled, "One day Y/N, you will appreciate my beauty and brains." Sirius dramatically hair flipped.

"You know there's nothing up there." James said, knocking on Sirius's head as Sirius swatted his hand.

You rolled your eyes as Remus handed over his notebook to which you thanked him with a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey! Wheres mine?" Peter asked, "I gave you the notes for potions."

You rolled your eyes again, giving Peter a peck on the cheek as well.

Your eyes locked onto Sirius, already knowing what he was gonna say, "Well, you just insulted me, I think you owe me one." Sirius said, tapping his cheek.

You clenched your jaw, pecking his cheek quickly as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Wait where's mine?" James asked as your eyes widened, "Don't wanna be left out," He fake sniffled.

"Your girlfriend will quite literally harvest my organs." You scarily said, putting the notebook in your bag.

"It's just a kiss on the cheek!" He argued as the whole group shook their head.

"Mate, I'm going to have to agree with her on this one," Sirius patted James on the back, "She will bloody kill Y/N and us for letting it happen." Sirius said.

There was a rumble of protest in his throat but a part of him knew that you both were right. He didn't want you to be faced with the fire on Emma based on his actions.

"Fine, guess you guys are right," He muttered as he dragged his feet.

You groaned, reaching over to James and pecking him on the cheek as he grinned.

“Everyone's been kissed now,” you sighed, your voice trailing off in frustration. “Can we just—” But before you could finish, a sharp voice sliced through the air.

“Y/N!” Emma screeched, her anger prominent as the group recoiled, hissing in surprise. She stormed toward you, her face flushed with rage.

You were begging Merlin that she hadn't seen the peck you gave to James.

“Did you just kiss my boyfriend?” She laughed harshly, her grip tightening on James's arm as he shot you an apologetic look, guilt written all over his face.

“Oh, maybe it was Sirius instead?” You quipped, trying to deflect with a joke, but Peter’s snort only deepened the tension.

“Real clever,” Emma shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stepped closer, invading your space. “A good friend wouldn’t do that, Y/N. I don’t take betrayal lightly.” Her tone was sharp, a warning laced within it.

You matched her intensity, moving closer until your breaths mingled as you spoke, “And I don’t take threats lightly.”

“Okay, let’s all just calm down!” Sirius intervened, wrapping an arm around your waist while James did the same to Emma, but the heat between you and Emma crackled like a campfire, neither of you backing down.

“It was just a peck, sweetheart,” James cooed, wrapping an arm around Emma as you rolled your eyes, arms crossed in disbelief.

Emma pouted, “You know how protective I get about you.” She nestled into his chest, and the sight made your stomach churn.

“I know, baby,” he said with a smile, holding her close, while the rest of the Marauders looked on, barely able to stomach the scene unfolding before them.

“As entertaining as this little drama is, I need to get ready for the party tonight,” you announced, desperate for an escape.

"The party isn't until tonight!" Peter said, confused.

"Mentally prepare!" You joked.

“Wait!” Emma’s voice pierced through your thoughts just as you turned to leave, and you sighed, bracing yourself for her next act.

Her expression shifted, all sweetness now. “I’m sorry for misreading things with James,” She said, feigning concern. “I know you’ve never had a boyfriend,” She added, her tone dripping with condescension. “But, you can get a bit... jealous. But we’re friends, right? So I shouldn’t act like that.”

You clicked your tongue, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes even harder.

“And as your friend,” She whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, “I just want to warn you. If you so much as talk to James at the Gryffindor party tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She released you, her smile wide and disingenuous, and before you could even muster a response, she skipped back to James, leaving you fuming.

Fury coursed through your veins as her words echoed in your mind, the unfairness of it all burning like a fire inside you.

Ever since Emma had walked into your life, she had fucked with everything around you.

Your friends, your reputations, your social life, hell even your sanity.

And if nobody else was gonna put a stop to her.

You guess it would have to be you.

-----------

Are you really ready to wage war with her?” Dorcas chimed in from the closet, her tone skeptical.

“Dorc,” You began, frustration creeping into your voice. “Emma has been terrorizing us since third year. Are you seriously going to tell me that taking her down doesn’t sound appealing?”

She sighed, contemplating. “Okay, fine, you’ve got a point. But how exactly are you planning to take her on?”

A sly smirk crept across your face as you revealed the outfit you’d picked: a black corset paired with the shortest black skirt you could find, topped off with fishnets. Dorcas’s jaw dropped sarcastically. “So, you’re going to out-dress her?” She asked, incredulous.

“No,” You replied, rolling your eyes. “I’m going to use her worst fear against her. I’m going to seduce James.”

Dorcas nearly choked. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Listen, I would never usually even consider looking at another girl’s boyfriend, but this is different. James is the one thing that will shatter her, and honestly, it sounds cruel, but so is she!” You shot back, your resolve hardening.

“And if she tells the whole school what you’re doing, you’ll look like a homewrecker and be exiled,” Dorcas countered.

“Which is why it has to look like it’s all James’s idea,” You insisted, undeterred. “He’s been my friend since childhood; it’ll look innocent.”

“I don’t think this idea is as foolproof as you think,” Dorcas muttered, slipping into her red dress with an exasperated sigh.

“Dorc, trust me, she can’t hurt me,” You reassured her, the fire in your belly fueling your confidence.

“Well, if everything goes south,” Dorcas said with a reluctant smile, “I’ve got your back.”

You beamed at her. “What would I do without you?”

Just then, a loud bang echoed on your door. “Hurry up before all the firewhiskey is gone!” Marlene called, her voice a mix of urgency and excitement.

You and Dorcas shared a laugh, gathering your belongings and heading down to the common room, adrenaline buzzing in the air as you prepared to face the chaos of the night ahead.

The lively atmosphere of the common room was a familiar backdrop for you all; it felt like there was always a party, whether an event warranted it or not. You, Marlene, and Dorcas scanned the room and spotted your usual crew gathered around the couch. With a burst of energy, you hopped right next to James.

His eyes widened in surprise as he took in your outfit, but before he could say anything, Sirius swooped in.

“Y/N, have I ever told you how much I’m attracted to you?” He drawled, causing you to snort.

“Eyes off, Black,” You shot back playfully, just as Marlene whacked him with a pillow.

“Why do I even try?” He lamented, sinking dramatically into his chair.

Marlene grinned mischievously. “You know, I’d sleep with you, Black.”

Sirius’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you pay me and wear a cloak,” She teased, sending the group into fits of laughter.

Sirius scowled at Marlene while Lily pinched his cheeks, only for him to swat her hands away with a playful glare.

“You do look good, Y/N,” James murmured, his voice sincere.

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Now what did I do to deserve a compliment from James Potter?”

He chuckled softly. “Well, after what I put you through this morning, I think you deserve more than just a compliment.”

“Speaking of this morning,” you leaned in closer, lowering your voice, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

James shrugged, a hint of frustration flickering across his face. “We got into a fight after you left. I tried to talk to her about her manners,” he said, his tone casual but the weight behind his words was clear.

“But you guys were literally snuggling when I left,” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized how messed up her behavior was. Jus'... embarrassing, you know?” He gulped down his drink, and you couldn’t help but notice the guilt etched on his face.

It twisted your heart, seeing him upset. James was your best friend, and the thought of anyone hurting him made your stomach churn.

You hated seeing him like this, torn between loyalty and the flaws of the person he cared for. It felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on both of you, and all you wanted was to lift it.

"Well," You spoke as he looked at you, "If you want me to forgive you, I think a dance would do," You said, standing up and extending a hand to him.

A goofy smile plastered on his face, James said, "Anything for M’lady’s forgiveness."

You scrunched your nose at his corniness as he took your hand and led you onto the dance floor. He twirled you around, making you giggle before pulling you back in to sway together.

"You’re such a dork," You snickered.

"And how many years have I proven that to you?" He shot back, laughter in his voice as you rested your head on his shoulder.

His fingertips grazed your back while you swayed, and he whispered in your ear, "I miss us hanging out."

Outside of Charms tutoring and classes, you never got to see James and it always hurt you. You both knew why you couldn’t and voicing it would only make it worse.

But it had been hard not having a proper hangout with just the both of you since third year.

You felt warmth spread through you, flustered. "I miss hanging out with you too."

Looking at him, you noticed how beautiful he looked—his messy hair and that infectious grin. There was always a gleam in his eye, and everything about him radiated warmth. It felt like summer when you were together, and butterflies filled your stomach.

You knew he was just your best friend, nothing more. And that would always be the truth, as long as you told yourself that.

Suddenly, James twirled you again, but this time you spun out of his grip and fell onto the suddenly slippery floor.

You fell with a hiss, "Shit!" you moaned, wincing in pain as James rushed over with the rest of the group, the crowd parting to give you space.

"What the fuck happened?" Sirius asked, concern etched on his face.

"I don't know!" James replied, kneeling beside you. "She just slipped!"

You hissed as you tried to stand on your sprained ankle.

"Let me see," James muttered, inspecting your foot as you groaned.

"Maybe it's her leg," Marlene added.

"Well duh," Sirius shot back, earning a playful hit from Marlene.

"Can we just get her to Pomfrey?" Lily huffed, and the boys nodded in agreement.

Sirius tried to rush over to you, but James waved him off. "I got her," he said, lifting you bridal-style.

You winced at the jolt to your ankle, nuzzling into his neck as you caught a glimpse of Emma in the back of the room, her expression burning with rage.

You knew then that the games were just beginning.

2K notes · View notes

sunflowerwinds · 19 days ago

Text

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #vi x you #vi fluff #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi #vi fanfic #arcane show #arcane league of legends #arcane league of lesbians

1K notes · View notes

heartlogan · 5 months ago

Text

all coming back to me

✮— logan x f!reader (set in x-men days of future past)

✮— summary: logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

✮— a/n: first time writing for logan / the xmen films, be gentle pls. also wrote this in like 20 mins at 1am so kindness pls. ok goodnight.

✮— warnings: character death, major character death, (mentioned mostly, not the most graphic depictions), logan’s relentless guilt, reader’s insensitive curiosity, muddled timeline maybe idk, mutant reader (unmentioned power) , kind of abrupt ending , lmk if there’s more!

MASTERLIST

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

When Logan had realised he was the only viable candidate to do this job, he had felt the immense weight on his shoulders, had known that he had no choice but to succeed. He had been prepared for that part, mostly. But even still, the plan was sudden, and he hadn’t thought most things through. After all, Logan was more of a fight now, think later type of guy.

So waking up in some random woman’s waterbed was unexpected, yes, but even more unexpected was the bone cutting through his skin when he had to face those goons. It had been so long since the adamantium had been melded to his skeleton, that he could almost forget it hadn’t always been that way. If it weren’t for the pain that still haunted his every nightmare, that was.

It was an adjustment, definitely, especially because it had been so long since he hadn’t felt completely indestructible — untouchable. There was no metal safety net, here.

Seeing Xavier’s school falling apart was certainly an adjustment, too.

He had known this school only in its prime, when Charles had already formed the X-Men, had already settled many kids into their new home. Logan couldn’t ever imagine this place being so devoid of life.

“Can I help you?” A young man asked, after a few silent moments of Logan waiting for the door to be answered. He sounded vaguely familiar.

“Uh… yeah, what happened to the school?” Logan asked, eyebrows raised as his eyes trailed over the vines crawling up the building, the dust coating the glass.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Logan strangely before he decided to speak. “The school’s been shut for years. Are you a parent?”

Logan scoffed. “I sure as hell hope not. Who are you?”

“I’m Hank. Hank McCoy. I look after the house now.”

He’s doing a great job at that, Logan thought to himself, surveying the damaged grounds, before he clocked on to what the man had introduced himself as. He squinted at the small stature of the guy, half hidden by the door he was pressing himself into the gap of.

“You’re Beast? Look at you,” Logan commented idly, “Guess you’re a late bloomer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank warned, features hardening instantly at the name he hadn’t heard for a long time. “But I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man started closing the door in Logan’s face, not expecting him to shove himself against it, keeping it open. They strained, muscles tensing on both sides, before Logan inevitably won without Hank’s extra strength that accompanied his transformation.

“Where’s the professor?”

“There’s no professor here.” Hank responded, before Logan soon managed to shove the door open, flinging him back.

“Professor!” Logan yelled into the empty house, hearing his voice rebound off of the walls. The echoing made him uncomfortable, and seeing the house that had been destroyed so long ago in his time was odd. It was familiar, and yet so different. Logan wasn’t sure he could ever get used to the empty manor, despite his many complaints about the kids at the school.

The moment Logan began to ascend the stairs of the manor, Hank leapt at him, freshly transformed. Logan was momentarily shocked by the appearance of his blue fur, but he quickly got over it, defending himself from Hank’s admittedly rather weak attack. The Beast managed to stun him, tackling him onto a table in the middle of the foyer, while the blue man hung from the chandelier above.

“Hank?” A voice called out, confused and slightly concerned. “What’s going on here?” He asked, descending the stairs and squinting down at the vaguely familiar man on top of his table.

“Professor?” Logan asked, surprised, sitting up on the table to make sure he was seeing things right.

“He doesn’t like to be called that.” A new voice said, coming from Logan’s left, and he startled, head whipping towards where you were standing. You were leant against the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched the situation unfold with unhidden entertainment.

His heart practically stops.

He hadn’t seen you for almost three years. Three very long, very difficult years.

Logan didn’t even want to think about the last time he had seen you. It had been one of the worst days of his life to date, and he’d had a lot of bad days. And yet, here you were, alive. Trying to tamp down your amusement, though it was written clearly on your face, evident in the slight curve of a smile that he had missed.

“You know this guy?” Hank asked Charles, who made his way down the rest of the stairs while Logan only continued to stare at you.

Charles looked at Logan with a vague sense of recognition. “Yeah, he looks slightly familiar.” He commented distantly, already appearing completely checked out of the situation. “Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank.”

The sound of the glass above him clinking together brought Logan to his senses, reminded him that he had a job to do. And no matter how much he had missed you, your presence couldn’t get in the way of that.

“You can walk.” Logan stated, checking back into the conversation with shock still darting down his spine. He watched the Professor carefully, brows furrowed in thought.

“And you’re perceptive.” Charles replied dryly, “Which makes it slightly perplexing that you missed our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend. I’m going to have to ask him to ask you to leave.” He said, nodding towards Hank who stared between the two men as if watching some sort of tennis match. He looked uncomfortable with the confrontation occurring. “Or her, if you’re more inclined.”

You raised your brows.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Logan didn’t end up leaving, much to your surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to get Charles to do anything he didn’t want to do. Hell, it had been a long time since anyone had managed to speak to the man, save for you and Hank. He turned everybody away, never heard anyone out, no matter how desperate they sounded.

Instead, Charles seemed to accept the fact that this man was from the future. A future which sounded dire, by the way.

And if his glance towards you when he had spoken about watching good people, friends, die, told you anything, it was that you didn’t make it very far in the future. Which didn’t faze you all too much. It didn’t sound like much of a future for those who lived, anyway. But that knowledge had taught you something about this Logan. He had cared for you, some years from now.

It was as clear as day. He looked at you like he had been missing you, like he was greeting you at the airport after a long trip. He seemed to think he was being discreet about it, always glancing away when you turned to him, but you were observant.

You sidled up next to him while Hank went on the hunt for the phone book, and Charles wandered off to regret his decision.

“So, how’d I die?” You asked, feeling bad but also slightly amused when Logan practically choked on air.

“What? How did you—”

“Oh, please. It’s all over your face. I may not know you, but I can see that much.” You responded, cutting him off and watching the cogs turn in his head.

You had always had a strange way of reading him better than anyone else. Not that this version of you knew that, but Logan did. It made his chest ache all the more, feeling like you were so close to being in his grasp, and yet so far away from him. He had to remind himself that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t exactly know this version of you.

You seemed… not happier, exactly, but something was different. Perhaps you had suffered less at this point in your life. He had met you in one of the most difficult times you had ever been through, and it was strange to see you without the baggage that had followed you from that.

“I’m that transparent, huh?” He replied, going quiet soon after. He didn’t want to talk about this with you. With anyone. He didn’t want to relive that moment any more than he already did. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, every time the Sentinels had approached in the future.

“You are.” You paused. “So? What happened?”

“You don’t want to know about this, kid.” Logan stated, pointedly not looking at you. You were so young now, and he missed the lines on your face. This wasn’t the you that he knew or loved. He didn’t know this version of you. And you certainly didn’t know him.

Logan had the fate of the world resting on his shoulders, the fate of every mutant and human who had the decency to be kind towards them. Your fate. The fate of everyone else he had lost. He couldn’t get caught up in this, in seeing you here, as much as he wanted to soak in the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin.

“Why not? We’re going to save the world anyway. It can’t hurt.” You said innocently, regretting the latter part of your statement the moment you realised how it came across, how Logan’s face creased.

He wanted to appreciate your optimism, mostly because he knew how much of it you had lost by the time you died, but you couldn’t understand. It did hurt. Logan had watched you die in front of his very eyes, his adamantium and courage powerless to stop it. He had been dragged back to the jet, forced to leave your body there to rot, or to be taken and experimented on. He didn’t know which was worse.

Even now, he could feel the pressure on his chest from Storm pushing against him, the pain of Magneto pulling at his skeleton, forcing him to leave you behind.

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, eyes flickered across the room, never quite landing on you. It hurt him every day. He could feel the weight of your loss even now, knowing that if he failed to do this, you were lost. This version of you, the one who had so much suffering to come, would die at the hands of a Sentinel, and he would be powerless to stop it.

“Sorry,” You said, when the silence stretched on, Logan seemingly getting lost in his own thoughts. You could see the pain written across his face, could see him getting distant, reliving whatever had happened in the future. “That was insensitive. I was curious, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here to save us all. And I’m here to help this time.”

He finally looked at you, and you could see the exhaustion on his face. Perhaps putting more pressure on him wasn’t the best idea.

“Okay, I’m messing this up,” You admittedly, fidgeting nervously now, eyes flickering between him and the door as if expecting Charles or Hank to walk in on you embarrassing yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan paused, apparently trying to find his words. “You don’t need t’be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

You looked at him, seeing him more clearly then. You didn’t know his past, and you certainly didn’t know the future, but this man cared about you. That much was obvious. “It’s not yours either, you know.” You said, and the slight grimace he made didn’t escape you. He clearly didn’t agree. “However we know each other in the future, it can’t change the fact that I am an adult. I would never expect you to take responsibility for me dying. Or want you to! I take care of myself.”

He blinked at you. “We were meant to take care of each other.”

You faltered slightly at that, struggling to imagine yourself relying on someone that much, but then you understood.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? You’re here, fifty years into the past, trying to make things right. The war wasn’t your fault, Logan.”

Despite knowing that was true, it still didn’t quite dislodge the guilt that pulsed in his chest. He felt more vulnerable here, without his adamantium. With your prying eyes. Even now, it appeared that you saw him in a way nobody else ever could.

“You know what? This might be totally inappropriate, but…” You trailed off, and he had just opened his mouth to question you when suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing him close in a way that finally let him breathe again.

His hands hung idly by his sides for a few moments, before finally wrapping around you, holding you tight. He seemed as though he may never let you go, but you could understand that. Logan was in pain, and it seemed that despite your slight uncertainty, this had been a good path to go down. Taking care of one another, or something like that, right?

A heavy sigh left his chest, and you squeezed him tighter, letting out a short breath into his neck. You only pulled away when you heard Hank’s footsteps creaking on the aged floorboards, heading your way. Logan let you go, with much reluctance, but you lingered. Your arm brushed against his jacket.

If Hank noticed anything, he didn’t say a word, simply holding up the phone book victoriously. You glanced at Logan, watching the creases slowly come back to his face as he was reminded of his burden once more. You leaned against him the slightest bit, and pretended not to notice him glance at you.

This would all work out, you were certain of it. And if it didn’t, well, at the very least there was something to look forward to in that bleak future. Logan seemed worth the pain.

1K notes · View notes

uronlywon · 6 months ago

Text

I'M NOT HIM - s.jy ( 심재윤 ) ; drabble ➤ an attempt to get over your ex . . .

pairing .ᐟ best friend!jake x afab!reader

contains .ᐟ dom!jake, mention of heeseung as an ex, jealous jake !!

warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, porn with little plot, slight dubcon, pet name use (baby, good girl), little blindfold use, skin biting/sucking, mentions of mark making, unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral (fem rec), creampie, let me know if i missed something !

vee's note .ᐟ first drabble? it's more like a scenario but idrk... i'm afraid that this might be really terrible but i need some sort of filler while i continue to write bittersweet, which might i say, is taking forever.

wc .ᐟ [ 1.4k ]　　other works . . . masterlist ; read more !

YOU HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH YOUR EX, LEE HEESEUNG.

To be honest, you kind of saw it coming, but it still painfully hurt you, you two had been together for almost 2 years. You caught him cheating on you with another woman in your shared bedroom, which you found absolutely disgusting.

If you weren’t going to be with Heeseung anymore, who else would satisfy you as good as him?

Maybe your best friend can; Jaeyun.

So you showed up at his place, holding nothing but a blindfold in one of your hands.

You quickly found your back pressed into the soft mattress of Jaeyun’s bed. Clothes were discarded all over the ground, the blindfold tied around your head.

For a few minutes now, he had peppered your neck with plenty of kisses, leaving a couple of red and purplish marks in his tracks. He suckled on your perky nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his fingers flicked and twisted the other, stifling a soft moan out of you. It baffled him how pretty your breasts were, perfect curves topped with rose-coloured buds.

He continued to nip at your plush skin, from your jaw to your collarbone, painting you with his mouth as if you were his masterpiece in the making. You looked so pretty under him like this, even though you can’t see him.

After getting enough of your neck and chest, Jaeyun flipped you over onto your stomach, the sudden gesture startling you. With the blindfold on, it was hard to tell what things were going to happen next.

Jaeyun took his hard cock into his hand, pumping it a few times before bringing it to meet with your soaked pussy. He decided to ditch the condom, you never mentioned anything about it anyway. You could feel him prodding at your entrance, immense desire growing as you wiggled your hips closer to him, “Hmn-.. Please, hurry..” You whimpered out.

“Eager are we?” Jaeyun teased, a small chuckle escaping from his lips, “Good girls have patience. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, voice almost completely oozing with lust.

You don’t respond.

Your brain was entirely clouded with just desperation that you could only let out another whimper.

A smirk forms on Jaeyun’s face. He never thought he would have his best friend, on his bed, spread open for him to use. He’s always had a tiny crush on you, he won’t deny that.

With Jaeyun’s cock already lined up with your pleading hole, he began to slowly let his length sink into you and oh man, was he big. The little moans he drew out from you only fueled him more, the desire to ruin you only becoming stronger.

Not long after, he bottomed out, his whole dick sitting deep and snug inside of you. “Fuck, Y/n, so tight for me,” He muttered, whilst beginning to thrust himself in and out of you slowly to get you adjusted to his size. Your cute tiny noises only grew louder.

“Mmf— More, please-” You begged, hands mindlessly grabbing the bed sheets beneath you, grip tightening until your knuckles were almost sure to lose their colours. “S..So good! Heeseung!—”

Heeseung?

Right. Maybe Jaeyun should’ve known better. You weren’t here for him, you were here for yourself.

And you wouldn’t be here right now if your precious boyfriend didn’t cheat on you.

You would be fucking with Heeseung instead.

With his jaw clenched, Jaeyun fucked into your went cunt faster and harder, the sound of both of your skins slapping against each other filled the lustful atmosphere. “Ignore it,” He thought to himself, trying not to think too much about it. All that mattered now was your pleasure and not his feelings.

Whilst fucking into you, he let his hands trail to the soft skin of your waist, his hands wrapping around your small middle, giving it a harsh squeeze in the process. “More.. More, more! Hee!” You chanted, the pleasure you were currently receiving clearly not enough for you.

Hee.

It was getting harder for Jaeyun to keep his composure, the way you called out for Heeseung when he wasn’t even there, the constant ‘Heeseungs’ and ‘Hees’ clearly starting to irritate him. He used one of his hands to effortlessly spread legs wider for him to gain more access, then he proceeded to thrust into you whilst keeping himself in check. “Fucking.” Thrust! “Ignore.” Thrust! “It.” Thrust!

Your body began to grow limp, and you felt a familiar knot forming in your tummy, just waiting to burst. “Ah- ‘m so close!” You exclaimed, trying to chase your orgasm by rocking your hips at the same pace as Jaeyun’s.

“Yeah? Y..You’re close?” Jaeyun panted out, it was obviously a rhetorical question. “You like this cock this much, huh? Gonna come for me like a good girl, aren’t you?” He continued, stringing out more questions and praise.

It took all of your remaining consciousness to muster out a singular sentence. “Mhm! Hah— ‘mma come for you like a- g..good girl..,”

“Whose good girl?”

Was that a stupid to ask? Yes. Jaeyun knew he wasn’t the one you longed for, but he still had a slither of hope lingering in his head.

“Yours! Hee- Heeseung’s good girl!”

Wrong answer.

Then everything happens so quickly. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back again, blindfold ripped off your face as well as you pending orgasm. You no longer felt his dick inside of you, leaving you clenching on air. “What the fuck?!–”

When you take in everything that just happened, your eyes engulf your surroundings. The purple LEDs, how humid the room is and—

And…

Jaeyun.

Before you got the chance to say anything at him, or get upset at him for ruining the moment, he suddenly thrusted back into you, making you jolt. Then a series of words started to come out of his mouth. “God, Y/n.. Please, stop calling out to that fucker.” Jaeyun began, ‘that fucker’ referring to Heeseung.

“Jae—”

“No. Listen.” He cut you off, obviously not done saying everything he intended to. He proceeded to speak whilst bucking his hips to meet yours, groaning softly. “Can’t you just accept it, Y/n?”

Accept what?

“Like- Can’t you just accept Heeseung doesn’t want you anymore? I mean, he cheated on you for fuck’s sake.”

Wow. You never expected somebody to ever say those words to you whilst they were fucking the shit out of your cunt.

“Please!” He beseeched, growing vulnerable as his thrusts picked up in pace. “Accept that—”

“I’m not him.”

The three words do something to you. Seeing your best friend at your mercy was not something that was very common, even though he held the most power in your current situation. But you couldn’t muster out a proper response, due to the sensation of being fucked into by him.

The way Jaeyun’s hips worked magic was dizzying you, or maybe it was the fact you just got edged?

Soon enough the pleasure was too much to bear, pleasure pricking at the corner of your eyes as your awaited orgasm approaches you. “Jaeyun!–” You called out, and you called out his name.

“Yeah, baby..? Fuck, say it again- Say my name again.” Jaeyun asked desperately, his own name rolling off your tongue pleasing him.

“J…Jaeyun! ‘m close- let me cum, please!”

Oh, he was gonna let you cum. If you answered correctly this time.

“Whose- good girl are you, huh?”

Panting, you make eye contact with him, the purple LED lights illuminating his face. Damn, you never realised how fucking attractive your own best friend actually is. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and he smirks at you.

“Yours..”

“Can’t hear you.”

“Yours!”

Jaeyun’s hand comes up to your tummy as he continues to snap into you. He rests it on top of your abdomen before progressively applying pressure. “Who’s ‘yours’, hm?.”

The pressure on your lower stomach only adds up to your awaiting orgasm, each thrust bringing you closer to it. “Fuckfuckfuck! Jaeyun!- Gonna cum—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He grunted, drawing his cock in and out of you even faster, chasing both of your highs, getting sloppier by the minute. “C’mon baby, say it. Who’s ‘yours’? Whose good girl are you?”

You’re almost there. So, so close to cumming.

“J-Jaeyun’s good girl!” You exclaimed, loudly.

The smirk displayed on Jaeyun’s face only widens, “Good girl.” He muttered out, completely satisfied. “Shhii.. Cum with me, baby—” He moaned out, head throwing back as he chased both of your orgasms.

With one final thrust, the both of you come undone, your release coating his dick entirely whilst he fills you to the brim with his warm cum.

LIKES ONLY GO SO FAR ! IF YOU LIKE IT, REBLOG IT.

vee's note .ᐟ sorry you had to read that because it sucks.

©𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘯, 2024 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥

1K notes · View notes

brooke121000 · 13 days ago

Text

go to sleep, love. • s. reid

warnings: n$fw, f/m, p in v, dom!spence if you squint really hard, do a cartwheel and take your glasses off, aftercare! sleepy s3x

summary: wracked with migraines, you wake Spencer up with your crying. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he seeks the easiest possible method to make you go to sleep.

a/n: this did NOT seem as long when i was writing it.

———————————౨ৎ———————————

"ughh-" Spencer groaned, rolling over and rubbing his tired eyes.

you were crying softly, tears muffled into your pillow as your frame shook. Okayy, maybe you were being a tad bit dramatic.

"headaches again?" he murmured.

you nodded, rolling over to face him. enveloped in darkness, your eyes had to adjust to see him, but you were pleased when you did. his face was flushed from sleep, brows knit together and brown curly hair slightly tousled. "yeah." you replied solemnly. "and I can't sleep, at all. I woke you up. didn't I?"

he nodded, unamused.

"oh.. 'm sorry."

"it's okay," his face softened when he sensed how apologetic you were. "it's not your fault. can you sleep?"

your hand on the back of your neck, you shook your head again. he huffed in response.

"at all?"

"no, my head is killing me. You know what i'm talking about."

he sighed. "yeah, I do, but you need to sleep. we gotta go to work tomorrow."

Everything was too much. Your head hurt too much, you were too tired, you were dreading work, and Spencer's tone was much harsher then usual. Like a neglected pot on the stove, all of your emotions boiled over at once and you began to cry once again.

"oh-" Spencer was disheartened at your recurring tears. He scooted over and brought you close to his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. "Please don't cry."

you sniffled. "I'm soo t-tired, i just want to sleep.."

"I know you do," he consoled you. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"...no.."

His next words came in a whisper. "..I could.. you know, try something to help you sleep."

that was enough to stop your crying for a second. sniffling your tears away, you pulled your head up and met his downcast brown eyes. "..what are you suggesting?"

" 'm not suggesting anything. I'm just reminding you, Orgasms release chemicals like Oxytocin and Prolactin, which can lower stress levels and induce drowsiness. They also temporarily reduce the bodies cortisol levels, whi-"

"prove it?" you smiled and cut him off, a little lost for words.

he stalled for a second. "oh... okay."

he quickly got to work, sitting up and grabbing his glasses off the nightstand. you quirked a brow.

"You're putting your glasses on? interesting method of foreplay."

"no, its just- I wanna be able to see you clearly." he cleaned the lenses with the collar of his shirt, slipping them on. "Y'know, when I make you cum?"

you just kind of stared up at him, dumbfounded. it looks like the night brought out a whole different vocabulary in this man. managing an eager nod, you got closer to him.

he slipped under the blankets, and you felt his warm hands on your legs, eliciting a shiver that ran through you like lightning. You were a little disappointed he chose to hide under the covers, but accepted the warmth.

this man wasn't wasting any time. Your already-on-edge nerves felt a string of warm, sloppy kisses up and down your thighs. You slept in only a t shirt and underwear, most nights- including this one, so there was little barrier between you and his lips.

god, those lips.

He considered this quick and anticlimactic, but the little teasing he was performing was driving you crazy. your legs shook in anticipation, and you tried your best not to cry out in joy when you felt his hands hook under your panties and slide them down, down, down, all the way to your ankles- one hand trailing along your leg in this fluid motion.

finally, god, you felt a small, polite kiss pressed to your clit. you practically could have come undone right then and there, if not for a pang of sharp pain hitting your head at the same time, a small 'ah!-" escaping you.

"I know, cm'on. shh." He said from under the blanket, rubbing deep circles into your hips with a free hand.

He licked a lazy stripe up your core, the lightning-strike of pleasure hitting you once again.

"mm- fuck-" you whispered, a quiet plea for only him to hear. He licked another long stripe, patiently anticipating more moans, which he received.

pressing small circles into your most sensitive spots, he eagerly worked you up to the edge. this teasing was driving you crazy, and your breath was quick and harsh.

"spence!" you whined, and heard a groan from him, his grips tightening on your thighs. The tip of his nose pushed against your clit as his tongue dipped and swirled, and you swear your vision went blurry for just a second.

"cm'on-" he murmured.

Your approaching climax was painfully obvious to you, every muscle in your body clenching as he worked magic on you. a hand flew under the covers, intertwining with his hair as a desperate moan poured from your lips. with that, you came, your head flying back to rest against the pillow as your frame shook.

he pulled his head out from under the covers, a smile spreading on his features. "Satisfactory, hmm?"

That was intense. If anything, you were more awake.

"I.. I think i'm less tired."

his brows knit together as he wiped some of the liquid off of his chin, licking his fingers clean for the sole purpose of tasting you.

"ah. I guess you'll just have to cum again."

unable to retort, you simply nodded and watched greedily as he tossed off his shirt, making quick work of his pants and boxers. He captured your waiting lips in a messy kiss, trailing little pecks up and down your cheek. He settled atop you, gazing into your flushed face for just a second.

"I love you." he mused.

"...I love you, too."

he placed more kisses to your neck and collarbone as his free hand aligned himself with your entrance, and you both held your breath. when he pushed into you, feeling your warmth envelop him, you both gasped at the same time.

"fuck-'

'ah-"

he rested his head in the crook of your neck, pushing allll the way inside you. when he was satisfied you had adjusted, he began moving at a punishingly slow pace, butterflies flittering about your stomach once again.

on hand beside you, one on the headboard, he pushed into you again and again, taking up a punishingly fast speed. you simply laid upon the pillow, a moaning shaking mess.

"so, so perfect 'f me, god-" he groaned.

wishing to be somehow deeper inside you, he abandoned the headboard and grabbing your hips, knees planted in the mattress for stability. you put a hand in your hair, a feeble attempt to ground yourself. as if things couldn't get any better, his hand slipped between you two- rubbing fervent circles on your clit, eliciting a string of desperate noises.

after what very well could have been an eternity, you both approached the finish. he gripped your hips desperately hard, his breaths coming shakily.

"oh, my- Spence!"

he buried himself deep into you as you two finished in unison, breath fleeting from your lungs as your head swam with pleasure- and the glaring absence of a migraine.

' "m gonna pull out, okay?"

"mhm- o.. okay."

he slid away and resumed his place beside you. pulling the covers over the both of you and placing a soft kiss to your temple, he sat up momentarily to remove his crooked, now fogged up glasses.

As you came down from your high, the shaking in your legs and the rushing of your pulse calming, you felt your eyelids droop. He pulled you closer to him and left a kiss on your lips, tinged with the soft sting of finality.

"go to sleep, love."

———————————౨ৎ———————————

#criminal minds #spencer reid #fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #smut

885 notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”

1K notes · View notes

cy-cyborg · 7 months ago

Text

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist*, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

*edit to say, as several people pointed out, i got that wrong, my bad 😅. The inquisitors arm is actually amputated through the elbow, the screenshots i was looking at just weren't very clear and it has been a while since i got to trespasser lol. It would still entirely possible to strap a shield to the upper arm though, with some pretty minor adjustments to the existing straps on standard (as in, those used by non-disabled warriors) tall shields, so the point still stands.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

#disability #disabled #disability in games #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquistor #dai #datv #dragon age 4 #amputees #amputee #amputee representation #disability representation

1K notes · View notes

joemama-2 · 1 month ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 18.2k (don't kill me) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: I'm dead, ik i said i wouldn’t write again for a couple days but i had a moment of epiphany series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

Walking through the long, but suffocating hallways of the office is excruciating for Satoru—it always is. Today, it feels extra excruciating. He’s been out of the office for a few days now, ignoring his business responsibilities and family, he knows he’ll probably face hell today. How painful.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo.”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo.”

“Nice to see you, Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo!”

A voice says, one he clocks as his secretary. He sighs, but continues to walk forward, forcing Aiko to practailly sprint just to catch up with him. There’s stacks of papers in her arms, her cheeks red with a small sheen of sweat painting her skin. And it’s only the start of the day. He almost starts feel bad for her. “Mr. Gojo! Where have you been? I’ve called and texted, I even went to your house and you weren’t there!”

“Vacation.” he says curtly, not breaking his stride. His tone is clipped, his voice devoid of any real emotion, and it’s enough to make Aiko falter for just a second.

“A vacation?!” she exclaims, breathless. “You didn’t even leave a notice! Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve had to field from your father’s office? They were—”

“Livid. Yeah, I’m sure.” Satoru waves a hand dismissively, rounding a corner and heading toward the elevator. Aiko scrambles to keep up, adjusting the stack of papers precariously balanced in her arms.

“They’re expecting you in the boardroom at ten,” she says, her voice slightly frantic. “And Mr. Gojo said if you didn’t show up this time, he’d—”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he interrupts, pressing the elevator button with unnecessary force. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, but his face remains a mask of indifference.

“Yes, but—” Aiko stops herself, hesitating. Her voice softens. “Are you okay, sir?”

For a moment, Satoru freezes. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, but he doesn’t move. The question hangs in the air like a challenge he isn’t ready to face. “Peachy,” he finally says, stepping inside. Aiko hesitates before following, fumbling with the papers in her arms. Once she’s inside, Satoru presses the number 15, doors soon closing. The ascent to the highest floor of the high rise office building begins. As the elevator begins its rising, the silence is thick and awkward. Satoru leans against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on,” Aiko ventures, breaking the silence. “There’s the overseas partnership meeting at noon, and your parents are waiting to—”

“They’ll wait,” Satoru cuts her off, his tone colder now. “I’m not on their clock.”

Aiko flinches but doesn’t argue. She adjusts the papers again, her gaze darting nervously to him before focusing on the floor. “Mr. Gojo, they seemed very serious today, more than usual. Your mother was even holding back tears, but she didn’t look sad, she looked…angry.”

His mind turns into uncertainty. His mother’s here and she’s crying? Did he piss them off that much? Well, she’s always been quite the dramatic woman. It can’t be that bad. When the elevator doors open, Satoru steps out without a word, leaving Aiko to scurry after him in usual form. The sound of his shoes clicking against the polished marble floor echoes through the hallway as Satoru walks toward his personal office. Aiko struggles to keep up, her footsteps hurried and uneven behind him.

He caresllesy pushes his doors open, going over to plop himself down in his chair behind the desk. Heavily exhaling while ltilting his head back, eyes fixated on the bare ceiling above. Seems like his carelessness is going to catch up with him today. Although he’d rather not deal with anything business related right now, especially his parents, he’s been gone more than he should. He can already anticipate he’ll leave late today, the monotonous voices of the businessmen, the disapproving words from his parents, the headache that will break through around noon, and the lingering, mundane question in the back of his mind of what you and Koji will be eating tonight for dinner. Maybe I should send her some money to eat out, or to buy a few groceries?

However, another thought makes its presence known by her very…unpleasant voice. He almost forget about her.

“Satoru!”

Aiko squeaks as she’s negligently pushed to the side by Himari, some of the papers flying out her hands—to which she bends down to pick it up, giving the other woman an annoyed glance. Himari plops into Satoru’s lap, arms instinctively moving around his neck. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick, baby. I thought something happened.”

Satoru doesn't react at first, his head still tilted back, eyes glued to the ceiling. His jaw tightens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Himari presses herself closer, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck as she leans in. Her voice softens, pink lips downturning into a pout, dripping with almost a faux sense of concern. “You didn’t answer my calls, Satoru. I thought we were past all this disappearing nonsense. What’s going on?”

Aiko straightens up from the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line as she shuffles the papers back into order. “Excuse me, Ms. Nakamura,” she says tightly, her eyes flicking toward Satoru. “Mr. Gojo has a full schedule today. If you need to discuss personal matters, perhaps—”

“Not now, you,” Himari cuts her off without looking, her attention solely on Satoru. “This is between Satoru and I, not the help.”

Aiko bristles but doesn’t argue, standing stiffly by the door.

Satoru finally moves, letting out a low sigh as he straightens his posture, forcing Himari to shift slightly on his lap. His hands rest limply on the armrests of his chair, making no effort to return her embrace. “Himari,” he says flatly, his voice void of any attempt at warmth. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” She pulls back just enough to look at him, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing. “Too busy to call me? To even let me know you’re alive?” Her voice rises slightly, her frustration barely contained. “You just vanished, and I had to find out from your secretary that you weren’t even in the office!”

His lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “And yet, here I am. Alive and well.”

“That’s not the point!” Himari huffs, her grip on him tightening as if to keep him from brushing her off. “You can’t just disappear like that, Satoru. It’s irresponsible. It’s—”

“Unprofessional? Reckless? Embarrassing?” he interrupts, his tone sharp enough to make her flinch slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. What do you want me to say, Himari? I have my own life too, baby.”

She stares at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words come out. For a moment, the air between them is thick with tension. Her expression shifts, the frustration giving way to something colder. “You’ve been acting strange lately,” she says, her tone accusing. “Ever since—” She stops herself, her eyes narrowing. “Ever since last time I saw you.” Himari doesn’t move from his lap immediately, her arms tightening around his neck as if trying to pull him closer. Her perfectly manicured nails graze his skin, and she leans in, her voice then dropping into something softer, more coaxing. “You know I’m only upset because I care about you,” she says, her eyes searching his face. “You can’t keep shutting me out like this, Satoru. I’m your girlfriend, for heaven’s sake. I’m supposed to be the person you lean on.”

Satoru doesn’t respond right away. His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable as he studies her. The silence stretches on long enough for Himari to shift uncomfortably. His eyes move to hers, the first real spark of emotion flashing across his face. “You have to understand, okay? I’m… going through stuff right now, I just needed a break.”

“A break from me?”

“Himari.” His voice is quieter now, the edge in it is unmistakable, but also resigned. He continues, willing himself to react calmly, “you’re not helping by showing up here unannounced.”

“Unannounced?” she scoffs, her tone sharpening again. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually answered your phone. Or your emails. Or—oh, I don’t know—told me where the hell you were!”

“I needed space,” he repeats simply, his gaze drifting toward the window behind her.

“Space?” she repeats incredulously. “From me?” Her voice trembles slightly, though whether it’s from anger or hurt, even she doesn’t seem sure. “You can’t just disappear without saying anything, Satoru. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have your parents calling me, asking if I know where you are? To have my parents asking why their future son-in-law is MIA?”

Future son in law. That makes his brows furrow, a frown taking place on his face. “I didn’t ask you to answer for me,” he says evenly, his eyes meeting hers again.

“No, you didn’t,” she snaps, pulling back further now. “But you also didn’t give me a choice. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let everyone think I don’t know what’s going on with my own boyfriend?”

“You could have,” he says with a shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting in a ghost of a smirk. “Might’ve been easier.”

Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she looks genuinely stunned. “Are you serious right now? You’re impossible, Satoru. Absolutely impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he says lightly, but there’s no humor in his voice.

She gets up abruptly, smoothing her Valentino Garavino dress with quick, agitated movements. “This isn’t funny,” she says, her tone colder now. “You think you can just brush me off like this? Like I don’t matter? I’m the one who’s been by your side all this time, Satoru. Me.”

He sighs. “Just stop, please.”

“I’m just saying,” Himari presses on, her voice a little too sharp, “I’ve been dealing with this mess all on my own, while you’ve been out who knows where—doing who knows what—and now I’m supposed to just pretend everything is fine? That’s not how this works.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Satoru says with finality, his patience running thin. “I didn’t ask you to sit here, waiting for me, wondering where I’ve been. I needed a break. A chance to breathe.”

“From me?” she asks again, disbelief written across her face.

He decides to concede. “Yes,” he says quietly. “From everything. You wouldn’t understand.”

Himari falters for a moment, her face flickering with a mixture of hurt and frustration. “And I don’t matter enough for you to tell me why?”

His gaze softens, just for a second, but it quickly hardens again. “I don’t need to explain myself, Himari.” He looks away from her, not trusting himself to speak without snapping. There’s a quiet but heavy tension hanging in the air.

“I thought we had something,” Himari says after a long pause, her voice quieter now, though the hurt still lingers in her tone. “I thought I meant more to you.”

“You do,” Satoru replies, the words sounding almost empty, even to him. “But right now, I need time to sort things out. Can you understand that?”

She glares at him for a moment longer before letting out an exasperated huff. “Fine. Fuck it, ignore things like you always do.” She grabs her bag, turning on her heel. “But don’t think I’m just going to sit around waiting for you to figure things out. You owe me better than this, Satoru.” She storms out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving Aiko awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Satoru remains frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space she left behind. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind drifts back to the other matters weighing on him. The silence feels suffocating, and even though his thoughts want to wander to her—to you—he forces himself to focus. But something lingers, something unsettled that he can’t shake.

Aiko clears her throat, stepping forward cautiously. “Um… should I reschedule your morning meetings, sir?”

Satoru leans back in his chair again, closing his eyes briefly. “No,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… give me five minutes.” Aiko nods, backing out of the room and closing the door softly behind her. Alone now, Satoru exhales heavily, the weight of the morning and what’s to come settling over him like a thick fog.

Jesus Christ. Can I just have one day without everyone breathing down my fucking neck?

“And so, this is why my team and I believe it’s prevalent to keep things neutral, but cordial with the Nexus Group.” The head of the negotiation team, a sharp-dressed man in his late forties with a voice as dry as the monotony of the topic at hand, clicked through another slide of the dull PowerPoint presentation which casted faint shadows over the darkened boardroom. The screen displayed a web of connections and partnerships that Nexus had with other firms, none of which particularly interested Satoru.

Neutral and cordial. Two words he had no patience for today.

He slouched slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of the table. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—his mother would’ve had a fit if she saw him disrespecting the board by doing so—but he felt the familiar strain behind his eyes nonetheless, holding back a heavy sigh.

“Mr. Gojo?”

The sound of his name snapped him out of his haze. He blinked, realizing the room was waiting for him to respond. All eyes were on him, some expectant, some wary. “Hm?” he hummed, sitting up just enough to look like he was paying attention.

The negotiator cleared his throat. “Your thoughts on maintaining a neutral stance with Nexus, sir?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on the projector screen, though he wasn’t really seeing it. The weight of everything—the meeting, his parents waiting to speak with him, you and Koji constantly in the back of his mind—made it impossible to focus. He just wishes these imbeciles could make a single decision without confiding in him first. Finally, he sighed, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think…” he began, his voice softer than usual, almost detached, “that we’ve been through this already.”

The negotiator hesitated. “Well, yes, but we wanted to ensure the approach aligns with your vision—”

“My vision?” Satoru interrupted, his tone bordering on tired amusement. He dropped his hand and glanced around the room, his expression almost blank. “My vision is that we don’t waste time overthinking what Nexus might do. If they’re going to cause problems, we deal with it. If they’re not, we move forward. Simple.”

A few people exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued; they know better. “Understood, sir,” the negotiator said, his voice quieter now.

Satoru didn’t reply, turning his gaze to the window instead. The faint reflection of the room in the glass blurred with the skyline beyond. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly cared about one of these meetings. The discussion carried on around him, voices blending into a low hum. Every so often, someone would glance his way, but he didn’t react. His thoughts drifted, heavier and heavier, to the inevitable confrontation waiting for him after this meeting. He sighed slowly, shifting in his chair. The tension building in his chest had been there for days, clawing at him, and this—this pointless back-and-forth—only made it worse.

“Satoru,” Nanami’s voice cut through the fog, quiet but firm, “want to wrap this up for today?” Satoru blinked at him, then at the rest of the room. Everyone was waiting, polite smiles masking their unease. He straightened a little, though it felt like dragging himself through water

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Let’s revisit this later.” The meeting adjourned, and as the others filed out, Satoru stayed behind, staring blankly at the table. He knew he couldn’t avoid the next part of the day forever, but for now, he just wanted to sit in the quiet, even if it was only for a moment.

Nanami stays behind until the last man leaves, taking this moment to face his colleague with his usual bored—but calculated gaze. “What’s up with you? First, you go AWOL for days on end, and now you come back and look like you don’t know about a single thing that’s happening. That or you don’t care.”

“I never truly do,” Satoru replies, swiveling.

Nanami shakes his head, running a hand through his blonde locks. “Seriously, Satoru. Can you just fix up your act for the next few days, at least?”

Satoru raises a thin, white eyebrow. “Next few days, hm? Why, what’s happening in these next few days?” He uses air quotes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nanami groans, arms crossing. “You forgot?”

Satoru tilted his head, feigning thought, though the blankness in his eyes betrayed his apathy. “Hmm... enlighten me.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “The annual board dinner, Monday evening. The one where you’re expected to charm the investors and keep them from pulling out of their contracts. The dinner that your father has been planning for months.”

Satoru hummed, his head falling back against the chair with exaggerated dramatics. “Oh, that dinner. Right. The one where I play puppet for a bunch of old men who care more about profit margins than people.”

Nanami didn’t rise to the bait, though his gaze hardened. “The dinner where your family’s reputation is at stake, Satoru. It’s not optional, and you know it.”

Satoru swung his chair in a slow circle, his long legs stretched out as if the conversation wasn’t happening. “Guess I should dust off my charm, huh? Or maybe I’ll just stand there and look pretty—that usually does the trick.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve already caused enough waves by disappearing last week. If you don’t show up, or worse, if you show up like this…” He gestured vaguely at Satoru, encompassing his disheveled demeanor. “…then don’t expect your father, especially your mother to forgive you anytime soon.”

Satoru stopped spinning, his chair facing Nanami now. He rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin in his hand. “You sound like her, you know. Should I start calling you ‘Mom’ too?”

Nanami rolled his eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “Do whatever you want, Satoru. Just don’t screw this up.” With that, he turned and walked towards the doors. Stopping for a second and giving one last thought. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to stop running from your responsibilities, it’s catching up with you.” Then, the sound of the door shutting behind him follows, leaving Satoru alone in the silence once more.

For a long moment, Satoru stayed where he was, the room empty except for the faint hum of the projector. He stared blankly at the table, his mind a tangle of thoughts he didn’t want to undo. He let out a heavy puff of air, the sound filling the silence. “Yeah,” he muttered to no one in particular. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He shakes his head, the density of Nanami’s words settling over him like a heavy cloak. The idea of the board dinner—of facing his parents, the investors, the endless expectations—made his chest tighten. But even that wasn’t the heaviest thing on his mind. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, debating whether to send a message. Whether to ask you if you were okay, if Koji had eaten, if you’d even want to hear from him. Instead, he locked the phone and tossed it onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. For now, all he could do was sit in the quiet and try to pull himself together before the next storm hit.

Nanami’s right, it’s catching up to him.

“Where is that little bastard?”

“Mrs. Gojo!”

“Where is he?”

“I-I believe he’s still in the—”

The doors abruptly opening causes Satoru’s head to swivel in the direction of them. He almost wishes he just sink into a hole. The face of his mother, looking pretty damn pissed off, is glaring at him. A familiar look to her son. He still doesn’t know what he did wrong—besides ignoring the business for a week. Still, she’s that upset? “You,” she points a red nail in her son’s direction, to which he stands up. “Get your ass in your father’s office, now.”

“For what?” Satoru asks, though he’s already making his way to her. He then yelps out in surprise when his mother reaches her hand up and pinches his earlobe between her two fingers. “Ow! Mom! What the hell?!”

“Shut it, boy.” She snaps out, hauling his ass down the corridor to his father’s office. The employees watch on, eyes wide with curiosity and surprise as their boss is practically getting manhandled by his own mother like he’s a child all over again.

“Seriously, Mom, let go!” Satoru hissed, trying to pry her fingers off his ear without much success.

“You don’t get to make demands today, Satoru,” she snapped, her grip tightening. “Not after the mess you’ve made.”

“What mess?!” he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as she yanked him forward.

“Oh, don’t act clueless. You’re in enough trouble, don’t you dare add stupidity to the list,” she shot back.

By the time they reached his father’s office, Satoru was basically limping from the awkward gait forced upon him. His mother flung the door open with so much force that it banged against the wall. His father, seated behind his imposing desk, barely glanced up, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed his irritation. “Ah, the prodigal son,” his father drawled, setting down his pen and folding his hands neatly in front of him. “We were wondering when you’d grace us with your presence.”

“Trust me, this wasn’t my idea,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his ear as his mother finally released him. He straightened his jacket with an exaggerated sigh and flopped into the chair across from his father.

“You’re lucky I didn’t drag you here sooner,” his mother said, slamming the door shut. She crossed her arms and went to stand beside her husband, her sharp gaze fixed on her son.

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Alright, what’s this about? I already know you’re mad about last week. Can’t we just skip to the part where you yell at me for being irresponsible and I promise to do better?”

His father didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the desk. “We’re not here to rehash your usual antics, Satoru. This is about something far more… shocking.”

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” His parents say in firm unison.

Satoru frowned, his carefree demeanor wavering as he picked up the folder. He opened it lazily, but his body went rigid when his eyes landed on the photograph inside—a picture of him, arms wrapped around Koji, with you standing to the side, your expression tender, smiling. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the sudden tense silence suffocate the room.

“What the hell?” Satoru whispered, his mind racing.

His mother’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Care to explain, Satoru?”

For once, he had nothing to say.

“I….” he gulps, fists clenching around the photograph. His jaw ticks, brows furrowing in the middle. “Where did you get this?” Satoru’s voice was low.

“We could ask you the same,” his mother snapped, her tone icy. “Who is that child, Satoru?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, instead hyper-fixating on the picture. His father didn’t wait for him to respond either. “We had to hire someone to track you down after you disappeared. Imagine our surprise when they came back with this.” He gestured to the photo.

He looks back at his parents, meeting them with an equally deathly stare, blue eyes bouncing off one another. “You’ve been fucking spying on me?”

“You gave us no choice,” Akane responds, upset with her son’s tone. “You disappeared, we were worried, and now—” she huffs in disbelief. “Now we come to find out…this! What is this, Satoru?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” his mother counters.

Her son’s eyes turn dark, and anger beginning to rise up beneath his flesh. Willing himself to calm down and not snap. He looks between his father and mother, not even sure what to say at this moment. First, he’s pissed they sent someone to watch and follow him, second, how did he not notice? And third, they know. They fucking know. He’s barely figuring shit out on his own and now his parents are involved in the mix.

Yamato reels in a long breath, standing up from his chair. He walks out from behind his desk and stops in front of his carbon copy. “Satoru, who is that boy?”

A rhetorical question, it has to be. They just want him to admit it. They know who it is—who he is to Satoru. They’d be blind if they didn’t. Satoru gulps, biting the inside of his cheek before slowly responding. His words are hushed and careful, but filled with pride. “My son.”

Akane huffs quietly from her spot. “Oh my god.” She runs her hands through her hair, taking a seat in her husband’s chair, shaky hand fanning herself.

Neither son nor father looks at her, continuing to practically look into one another’s soul. It’s funny, he thinks. Two fathers face to face. If this was a different situation, Satoru probably would have made a snide remark about his old man looking hilarious with his wrinkly frown. The latter would then battle and say he’s not wrinkly.

But this isn't a different situation. This is a moment steeped in tension, every second thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The air feels like it's pressing down on Satoru’s chest, and the silence between them stretches unnervingly long. Yamato doesn’t break eye contact, his gaze cold, cutting through the room like a blade. "Your son," he repeats, as though testing the words in his mouth, as though the very utterance holds the power to shatter everything Satoru thought he knew about his own life.

Akane's nervous laugh breaks the heavy stillness. "I can’t even... this is just—" Her voice falters, the shock settling into a mix of disbelief and growing anger. She stands up again, pacing behind the desk, as if the movement might release the pressure building in her chest. "You’ve been hiding this? From us? All this time, Satoru?"

Satoru’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. He wants to lash out, to unleash the storm building within him, but he forces himself to stand tall, to mask the inner turmoil. His pulse is loud in his ears, the rush of blood roaring through him as his parents' words sink into him like cold nails.

But it’s Yamato’s next words that really cut deep. "You’ve been living a lie. And now it seems, so have we." Yamato’s voice is calm, but the edge is there, like a blade just under the surface, ready to slice through the fragile veneer of Satoru’s carefully constructed world.

Satoru looks down at the ground. “You guys don’t understand, I…I just found out too.”

His mother whips her head in his direction. “You what?!”

“What the hell do you mean just found out?” His father adds, in even more disbelief and confusion.

Satoru takes a slow breath, his shoulders tense as he looks up at them, meeting their incredulous stares. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he’s caught between the desire to explain everything and the overwhelming urge to stay silent, to protect the fragile piece of truth he’s only just begun to wrap his mind around. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, the words sounding foreign even to him. “I didn’t know I had a son. Until about a week ago. All of this… it’s new to me too.”

His parents stand still, processing the revelation, but the shock on their faces quickly shifts into something darker. Yamato’s expression tightens, a storm brewing behind his cold eyes. Akane's mouth opens and closes as if she’s trying to find the words, but none come. "You’re telling me," Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and menacing, "that you just found out about your own son? How does that make any damn sense?" His voice cracks on the last word, the authority and power he’s wielded for so many years suddenly slipping, revealing an underlying fury that Satoru has rarely seen.

Satoru looks away, his voice strained. “It wasn’t my choice.”

Akane's face flushes with anger, her hands shaking as she grips the edge of the desk. “This—this is absurd! We don’t even know this child!” Her voice rises in frustration, but Satoru isn’t looking at her anymore. His eyes are focused on the printed photograph still clutched tightly in his hand—the child that isn’t just a stranger, but a reflection of his own blood, staring back at him from that moment he hadn’t even known to be real.

Yamato steps closer, his gaze narrowing as he tries to force the puzzle pieces together. “You just found out… And yet, you're so protective of this child that you didn’t tell us as soon as you found out? What, you expect us to believe you’ve been kept in the dark all this time?”

Satoru’s fists clench, every nerve in his body screaming to either stand his ground or walk out. But this conversation—this confrontation—is unavoidable. He swallows hard, speaking through the tension in his chest. “I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm, though his hands tremble. “I only learned the truth just recently..” The room falls silent. Yamato stands there, his expression unreadable, but there’s something shifting in his eyes. Something dangerous.

Akane walks over to snatch the picture out of Satoru’s hands, pointing to your figure. “Is this who I think it is?’

He nods without a second thought.

“Jesus Christ!” Akane throws her hands up, walking back to the desk. “I thought—since when—I thought you two broke up years ago, Satoru! She’s had your son this entire time?!”

His parents remember you—quite vividly, actually. The young, and sweet, but out of the league for their son. They remember the way you’d walk into a room, quiet but full of something they couldn’t quite put their finger on—strength hidden beneath the surface, even if you never showed it outright. They remember the way you’d smile shyly when they’d speak to you, eyes bright with a warmth they hadn’t seen in anyone in years. To them, you were everything they never imagined for their son—too sweet, too grounded, too otherworldly for someone like Satoru.

They remember the first time they met you, how you’d seemed so out of place in their world. They'd been skeptical at first, unsure of how you’d fit into the carefully curated life they’d built for their son. They knew Satoru, with all his charm and charm and reckless pursuit of every distraction, was always destined for someone like Himari, someone who could navigate the glitzy world they lived in. So of course, when they first heard of you, they were hesitant—maybe even disapproving. They advised Satoru to end things with you quickly, but their son was always stubborn and did things way.

You came into the picture, with your quiet resilience and soft smile, and for the first time, they saw something in their son they didn’t recognize—vulnerability. Something about you brought that out of him. And that terrified them. They thought you were the kind of woman who could have his heart in a way no one else could. They didn’t know if that was a good thing or a dangerous one. Now, looking at the picture in front of them, that same woman stands on the other side of it, framed by the memories of everything that went wrong. And in the background, a child—their grandchild—who they never even knew existed.

As charming as Satoru is, you were the first girl he brought home. With this came the first time he came to his father for ideas on what girls like for their birthday, the first time they accidentally walked in on you and Satoru in a compromising position, and the first time they heard–-consoled their son after a major heartbreak.

The first and only time, actually.

Yamato’s voice is like ice, cold and calculating. “You finished things with her, Satoru. You let her go, and you let her leave with your son. How did you have not one clue about her pregnancy?”

Akane, still shocked, looks between her husband and son, her face pale. “You were too caught up in your own damn life to notice, weren’t you? Too busy with everything else to see the consequences of it all. I thought you were having safe sex!”

Satoru grimaces slightly, guilt twisting in his gut. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know she had him. I didn’t even know until now.”

His parents exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable. Then Akane speaks, her voice sharp and cutting. “Does it matter? Does it matter that you didn’t know? What’s worse, Satoru? That you let her get away with it, or that you didn’t even care enough to find out sooner? A responsible man makes sure nothing like this happens, especially a man of your status.” Satoru can’t answer. He can’t give them what they want to hear.

Nobody says anything for longer than Satoru finds comfortable. His father leaning against his desk and rubbing a tired hand over his greying stubble. His mother continuing her dramatics, downing some water and muttering something about how she feels faint.

Finally, Yamato speaks once more, with finality in his tone. “Bring them to us.”

Satoru, immediately on the defense, shakes his head. “No, I’m not having you two chew her out and scrutinize them. They don’t deserve that.”

“No, but what we do deserve is a solution to this…” his father wants to say mess, but with a look at his son, he decides against it. “A solution. This…this changes a lot of things, Satoru. Fuck.” He sighs.

Satoru’s chest tightens at the word “solution,” as if his father is already calculating how to fix what he sees as an inconvenience, a mistake to be swept away. His hands clench into fists, but he holds his ground, knowing this conversation is about to take a turn he’s not prepared for. “I’m not having you two tear into her or my son. They’ve been through enough.”

Yamato doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t show any sign of backing down. He only looks at his son with that same icy expression. “You think I care about how you want things, Satoru? I’m telling you, this changes everything. You’ve been playing around with your life, our lives, and now there’s a child involved. You think we’re just going to let this go?” He pauses, sighing deeply as if the weight of this situation is finally starting to sink in for him, but the resentment still lingers in his voice. “This... this situation, whatever you want to call it, has consequences. And you don’t get to hide behind her or the kid forever. This isn’t just about what you want anymore.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “I’m not hiding behind anyone. I’m doing what’s right, even if you don’t agree with it.”

Yamato’s eyes darken, his gaze like ice, and his voice drops lower, more calculated. “You’re not doing anything, Satoru. Not yet. You don’t have a choice anymore. This changes everything. You’re going to fix this. You’re going to fix it. You’re a grown man, the heir to my legacy, and a father now apparently, so you damn well better start acting like it.”

Akane stays silent for a moment, her eyes wide as she watches the exchange, but the tension in the room grows unbearable. Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter, yet filled with frustration and disbelief. “This... this is going to affect everything. What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up from deep within him. “I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t aware. But I’m not going to let you two dictate how I handle this. I’m not going to let you bully her and my son into some... I don’t know... some solution that doesn’t even make sense.”

His father’s words press down on him like a vice, and for a moment, Satoru can’t breathe. It’s not just about his son, it seems—this is bigger than that. His legacy. His future. His family. It’s all crumbling, and the pressure of it all suffocates him, the walls closing in as he tries to find the right words, something to push back against this tidal wave of expectation and control. But there’s nothing. No words that can change what’s been said. Satoru clenches his jaw, his hands trembling at his sides. He’s had enough of this, of the coldness in his father’s eyes, of the way his mother’s stare cuts through him like a blade.

“Fine,” he grits out. “Sunday. I’ll tell her to meet me at my place. But the second—and I mean the very second you two start raining it down on her, on my son, I’m kicking you both the hell out. You’re right, dad. I am a grown man, I am the heir, and I am a father. So I’ll start by protecting what’s mine—my family.” The word feels a little foreign on Satoru’s tongue. But he needs to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Sure, this is still pretty much because you couldn’t man up and tell him, but now that he’s here and involved, he’ll help. In any way he can. And that starts with making sure his parents don’t treat you like shit.

“Sunday,” Yamato repeats. “Seven sharp.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.”

“Sure is.”

Satoru turns on his heel, heading for the door, but not before he shoots his father a final, burning glance. "And don't think for a second that I'll let you use my son as some kind of leverage in this mess. You cross that line, and there will be hell to pay."

Yamato watches him leave, his expression unreadable, but his eyes cold with something unreadable. Akane, still fanning herself, watches the exchange with a mix of disbelief and frustration, but says nothing. The air in the room thickens, a silent understanding hanging between the three of them. Satoru slams the door behind him, the force of it vibrating through the walls. As he steps into the hallway, the weight of the situation settles on him like a stone. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, his jaw set.

He'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Koji. Even if it means standing against his own parents. The idea feels strange, foreign even, but it’s the only way forward now.

This is his family.

And he’ll burn the world down to keep them safe.

Walking Koji back home from school that day, he’s chatting your ear off about the cool bugs he found on the playground that day. As you walk beside him, Koji's excitement is almost contagious. His small voice is animated, recounting every little detail about the bugs he discovered—how the ladybug was red with black spots and how he tried to catch a dragonfly but it flew away too fast. You smile softly, nodding along to his rambling, your eyes flicking down to his eager face.

“Sounds like you had a good day today, baby.”

“I did! I love school so much, Mama. Mr. Ito says I’m the smartest kid in class.”

You grimace at the mention of his teacher. You’ve luckily been able to miss him when dropping Koji off and picking him up today; but it still doesn’t deter from the fact that you’re uncomfortable that man is teaching your son, around him and many other children every day. You entertain the idea of switching schools, but you don’t think that’s possible. The other closest school is a forty-minute walk, a fifteen-minute drive. And you can’t afford that. Not to mention the tedious paperwork you’d have to go through. As long as his teacher keeps his advances in tow and doesn’t try anything funny with your son, you think you can stand seeing his face every day for a few more months until the school year ends.

The two of you make it to the lobby of your complex before you see Mr. Sato leaning against the counter, talking with the receptionist. Your lips purse, steps faltering for a slight moment before making your way over to him. “Hello, Mr. Sato.” You visibly see him stiffen; which confuses you. “I…I’d like to discuss the money issue with you.”

He gulps down his coffee, almost hesitantly turning to face you. “...Ms. Y/N.” The way he greets you feels even more weird. Why is he suddenly acting so scared? Weren’t you just threatening my ass a few days ago? Never mind that. You shake your head, clearing your throat. “I wanted to tell you that I don’t really…have the money right now. I know it’s an inconvenience for you and a burden on my part, but I’m willing to do whatev—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, hand waving in the air.

You stop, head tilting. Did you hear him right? “I-I’m sorry?”

“I said no need. I already got the money.”

Now you’re really confused. Brows twitching as a wave of cautiousness passes over you. Is he tricking you? What the hell do you mean you got the money? “You…what? But, how? I didn’t….”

“Your husband paid it yesterday.”

“What?! I don’t have a husband.”

“Oh,” Mr. Sato tilts his head, looking down at Koji. “well, his father. He paid it yesterday.”

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over you. Huffing out in disbelief, confusion, and annoyance. “Wait, wait. He…paid it? All of it…?”

Mr. Sato nods, then shifts on his feet. “And then some, I’ve applied it to next month, so you don’t have to worry about that..”

A knot forms in your stomach. You can’t process it. Why would Satoru do that? The money, the rent, the fact that he paid it all without saying a word. Without asking you first. You’re supposed to be handling this on your own, not relying on him to bail you out. But the reality of it settles in, cold and heavy. He knows you’re struggling–-pretty damn badly too. Your heart races, a strange mix of emotions stirring within you—confusion, anger, humiliation. "I didn’t ask him to do that," you mutter, your hands trembling slightly as you try to steady your thoughts. Is he going to confront you about this too now? Say how horrible of a mother you are that you can’t keep a shitty apartment? Is he building up reasons to take Koji?

Mr. Sato shrugs, then turns away from you once more. "Doesn’t matter. It’s done. He seemed pretty intent on making sure everything was covered for you.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Satoru swooping in like some kind of white knight, fixing things without a word, twists something deep inside you. Why? The simple question hangs there, unanswered, heavy in the air between you. You glance down at Koji, who’s still holding your hand, oblivious to the tension building between you and Mr. Sato. “Thanks, I guess,” you say, your voice distant, almost hollow. It feels like the only thing you can say, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

Mr. Sato offers a quick nod. “No problem.”

As you and Koji walk away, your mind races, the question lingering in the air: What does Satoru want from all this? And more importantly, why the hell didn’t he tell you? It feels strange and almost invasive to have him literally pay your rent for you. Does he think he can just come in and save the day? Does he think I need him that bad? Why didn’t he tell me?

It feels like a violation, in a way. Like he’s come in and taken control of something that was supposed to be your responsibility. It’s hard to swallow. The pride you’ve worked so hard to hold onto, the independence you’ve clung to, feels shattered with just a few actions and no explanation–-and with such little ease. As you walk into your apartment, you feel the weight of his decisions hanging over you like a dark cloud. Why couldn’t he just let you handle things? You’re blatantly reminded of just how different you two are, of how much better he can provide for Koji than you can.

The problem isn’t just about the rent. It’s about him stepping in without a word, without so much as a “Do you need help?” Does he think I can’t do this on my own? You feel a sting in your chest, like a raw nerve exposed, and the overwhelming urge to scream at the world for being so damn complicated. Koji’s chatter fades into the background as you make it to the door, choosing to sit down on the couch, and pulling your knees up to your chest. What now? You’ve never asked for help from Satoru before, and now it feels like he’s swooped in and taken control, expecting gratitude in return. But how do you even thank someone who’s come in, solved your problems without asking, and left you feeling like you were never meant to stand on your own? What’s he trying to prove? You don’t know if you’re angry at him for doing something you couldn’t or angry at yourself for feeling so vulnerable, like a little piece of you just slipped away. The worst part is that you don't know how to feel about it all.

Thankful?

Happy?

Annoyed?

Angered?

Which of those is valid enough for this situation?

The minute you’re on break at your second job, you pull out your phone and call the devil himself.

He picks up a ring later.

“Hel—”

“What are you doing?”

There’s a pause. “Um…in the office?”

“No, you idiot. I mean what the hell do you think you’re trying to prove here?”

“...that I’m a good worker?”

Jesus, could he be even more stupid? “You paid my rent for me?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear him thinking, trying to figure out how to spin this. "Yeah, I did," he finally admits, and there's no apology in his voice, just plain confession.

"Why?" The question comes out sharper than you intended, a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Why would you do that without saying anything? Do you think I need your help? Is that it? Just swoop in like a damn knight in shining armor?"

He doesn't immediately respond, and you’re almost certain he’s frowning on the other end. Finally, his voice breaks through the tension. "Listen," he starts, a little too casual for your liking. "I really don’t understand why you’re angry about this, okay? Your landlord came over when you were at work and said you needed four thousand dollars. I just didn’t want you to worry about it, and I didn’t want Koji to see you stress over something like that. It’s not a big deal, it’s handled."

You roll your eyes, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Satoru. This isn't about whether or not I’m stressing or angered over it. It's about you barging in and making decisions for me, like I can’t handle my own life."

His sigh comes through loud and clear, like he’s just too tired to deal with you right now. "I didn’t make the decision for you, I just—"

"—Paid my rent without asking? You don’t get to play the ‘I’m just helping’ card here! You could’ve at least talked to me first. Why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it from me?"

There’s a shift in his tone, like he’s getting a bit more fed up as the conversation continues. "I didn’t think it was necessary. You’ve been so damn silent about everything. I don’t know if it’s pride or what. But I get it—believe me, I do. But sometimes, pride gets in the way of... I don’t know, survival?"

"Survival?" You nearly choke on the word, incredulous. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game to you? You think I can’t survive on my own?"

The silence stretches between you two, thick with unspoken things. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. "Look, I did what I did because I wanted to," he says quietly, the weight of the words heavier than anything he’s said so far. "But if you’re angry about it, then...I won’t do it again. It wasn’t meant to make you feel like... like you can’t handle things. I just thought, maybe it’d be one less thing for you to worry about."

You’re quiet for a long moment, still processing his words, the mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "You’ve got a funny way of showing care, Satoru," you mutter, and there's a bitter laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, I know," he admits, voice tinged with regret. "I don’t always get it right." A small, reluctant part of you softens at the sound of his sincerity, but the rest of you remains hard, unresolved. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. "You just—you have to tell me in advance about these things. This is a big deal to me.”

He nods, though you can’t see it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel inferior, I promise.”

You close your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just... don’t do it again."

He’s quiet for a moment, and then—"Alright, alright. I’ll back off, Y/N. But you will tell me next time if you need help, understood?"

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the unexpected, but familiar warmth spread through you at his words. "Understood," you mutter, rolling your eyes again even as you can feel the beginnings of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

It’s a mess. But at least he’s trying. At least you are.

You’re about to say your goodbye when he stops you. “Hey, um…so I was actually going to call you too.”

“Oh,” you reply, leaning your back against the wall. “Okay well, did you need something?’

“Yeah, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

He pauses again, mulling over how to exactly give this to you easily. “So…my parents found out. About Koji.”

You don’t say anything. The words hang in the air between you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. But the seriousness in his voice tells you that this is no joke.

His parents found out.

You push yourself off the wall, your hand instinctively curling into a fist at your side. "What do you mean, found out? How? When?"

He lets out a long, heavy sigh. "They’ve had someone watching me for a while now because I haven’t been to the office. Apparently, the guy showed them a picture of me with Koji and you, and they…yeah."

The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. "Great," you mutter, voice tinged with disbelief. "So now they know. What, are they gonna show up at my door and demand answers too?"

There’s an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line before Satoru responds, his voice tight. "It’s not like that. They won’t do anything... yet. But they want to meet Koji, see him, and... they want to talk to you. They’ve got a lot of questions."

Your chest tightens. You feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Talk to me? "I’m not doing this. I’m not putting my son through that," you snap, your tone colder than you intended. "Why would they even want to meet him? He’s not some... pawn in their game."

"I know," Satoru says quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. "But they’re my parents, and they’ve always been controlling. They think they have a right to know him, to know everything. I’m just telling you because I didn’t want you to be blindsided."

You take a slow, steadying breath, trying to push down the rising anger and panic that’s swirling inside you. This is bad. This is really bad.

"They want to see us?" you ask, your voice quieter now, more composed.

"They do" he answers reluctantly. "But you don’t have to. It’s your choice, okay? You don’t have to see them again if you’re not ready."

You close your eyes, your mind racing through the possibilities. You didn’t want this—didn’t want your life tangled up in his family’s politics and power games. But now, it feels like there’s no escaping it. "I’ll think about it," you say, voice soft but firm.

"Take your time," he replies, his tone gentler now. "Just know that... I’ll be there, no matter what you decide."

A part of you wants to believe him, wants to trust that he’s not just playing at being the hero. But another part of you is cautious, knowing the situation is far from simple." Okay," you finally say, the word heavy on your lips. "When did they wanna see us?"

“Sunday. At seven, my place.”

“Fuck,” you heavily breathe out, using your hand to sift through your hair. “That’s…that’s really soon, Satoru.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They just told me all this today.”

You bite your lip, conflicted. You know it is an inevitable thing to see his parents again. But it’s been so long and times have most definitely changed. You’re not sure if you’re exactly ready for that. But would you only be prolonging this?

“Just let me know by tomorrow—preferably,” Satoru adds.

“...okay. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward gap between you two. Not sure if you should keep this conversation going. It almost feels like your first time calling each other. The silence stretches between you both, thick and uncomfortable. You can almost hear the uncertainty in his breath on the other end of the line, as though he’s unsure what to say next, or perhaps he's waiting for you to take the lead. You want to say something, anything, but the words feel stuck in your throat. There’s so much you could say, but none of it feels right. You’re not sure what he expects from you, or what you expect from him. Finally, you break the silence, your voice quieter than usual. “I’ll think about it. But...this isn’t just something I can decide on a whim.”

“I know,” Satoru responds, his tone more serious now. “I’m not rushing you. I just... I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything.”

You exhale sharply, not sure if that reassures you or not. The weight of the situation feels heavier now, but there’s still a part of you that wants to believe he’s being genuine. That he’s trying to do the right thing, even though you know deep down that the stakes are much higher than just making it through a conversation with his parents. “Right,” you reply, your tone quieter, more resigned. “I’ll... I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Take care,” he says, the words soft but weighted with meaning.

"Yeah. You too," you mutter before ending the call, the finality of it leaving a lingering tension in the air.

As you slide your phone back into your pocket, you let out a long breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You're not sure what to expect anymore, not from Satoru, not from his family, and certainly not from yourself. But one thing is certain: this is only the beginning, and you wonder if you’re ready for what comes next. All you know is that you have to protect Koji at all costs. And now, it seems, you have to face the consequences of Satoru’s family knowing the truth.

The next day is bright and sunny, contrasting with the chill of the wind that threatens to break your skin out in goosebumps if it weren’t for your thick layers. Snowfall is supposed to begin soon, Koji told you after learning it in school. He’s excited, which makes you happy to see. He’s always loved snow, you’d make snowmen, throw snowballs, and make snow angels. You have many pictures stored in your phone of him with the white mess of cushion around him, or him holding a snowflake, anything. You take a lot of pictures of your son, mundane or not. Memories you’ll forever cherish so you can look back on them when he’s older.

Walking through town with your little boy for a little day out. The money you were saving up for the rent is now being put to use for some sweet treats and little action figures. The sound of Koji’s laughter fills the crisp air as he hops excitedly from one foot to the other, clutching the small action figures of Spiderman and Ironman in his hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His excitement is contagious, and for a moment, the worries of yesterday feel distant, pushed away by the simple joy of spending time with him.

You pass by a few familiar shops, your eyes catching on window displays that seem to taunt you with their prices. You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Koji pulls you towards a small toy store. The lights in the window sparkle with the holiday season, and for a brief moment, it feels like you could stay in this little bubble, far removed from everything else—Satoru, his parents, and the looming uncertainty about what comes next. But even as Koji chatters away beside you, excitedly telling you about the toys he's picked out, the weight of your situation still lingers in the back of your mind. You glance down at your son, trying to focus on the here and now. You’re doing this for him. He deserves moments like these—moments where life feels simple, filled with nothing but happiness and warmth.

“Mom, look!” Koji pulls your attention, his face beaming as he holds up a small snow globe he found in the shop window. The glittering snowflakes inside the glass swirl around, and you can see the way his eyes light up. “Can we get it?”

You smile, reaching down to gently ruffle his hair. “Of course, we can.” As you walk into the store, the bell above the door jingles, and for a second, it feels like you’re stepping into another world. It’s warm, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air, and it’s so different from the cold outside. For a brief moment, everything feels manageable. Just you and Koji, making memories.

But then, the thought of the phone call from Satoru yesterday creeps back into your mind. You promised you’d think about it, but now, with Koji so happy beside you, you wonder: Can you really keep up this facade? Can you keep pretending like everything is okay when you're not sure where any of this is headed? You shake your head, trying to push those thoughts aside for the time being. Right now, there’s only Koji, only the two of you enjoying a quiet moment of peace in a world that feels anything but peaceful.

“Let’s get that snow globe,” you say softly, even though you know it’s a small treat in the grand scheme of things. But maybe that’s all you can give him for now. Small moments of happiness.

After your purchases, you two make your way to a stand selling hot chocolate. A delicacy that your boy absolutely loves. As you’re paying for the small drink, opting to share with Koji, a familiar voice catches your ears. You turn to look in the direction of the loud voice.

“Thank you all for coming out today, I know it’s a little chilly. But we’re having many fun activities planned, with prizes. Who’s excited?”

The small crowd whoops in agreeance.

With interest, you’re guiding Koji over to the voice, tilting your neck up. You see Suguru standing with a microphone in hand, smiling kindly. The tip of his nose is tinted red, adorning a shirt that says, "Building futures, one child at a time." You recognize it as the slogan on his business card that he gave you.

It’s been a while since you last spoke to him or saw him, the last thing you remembered was him finding out your personal information while you were broken up with Satoru all these years. A frown pulls at your lips, but it’s hard to keep it up when young children rush up to him. Shouting “Mr. Geto!”

You’ve always known Suguru was very good with children, but seeing him now in his element feels wholesome. Cute, you think.

“Mama, that’s your friend. Do we go say hi?” Koji asks, sipping his drink.

For a second, you hesitate. Fearing it’ll be awkward, but you decide it wouldn’t hurt. So, with a nod, you two are walking through the crowd and to Suguru.

As you make your way through the crowd, you notice Suguru’s easy interaction with the kids. They surround him, tugging at his sleeves and laughing as he kneels to their height, his smile never faltering. The sight of him in his element makes you feel a strange mixture of warmth and hesitation. He’s clearly a natural with kids, and it’s hard not to admire how comfortable he seems, especially after all the tension that has hung between the two of you.

When you finally reach him, Suguru notices. His eyes widen slightly before he straightens up. A soft smile forms on his face, and he straightens his shirt with a little chuckle. "Well, look who decided to show up." he says, his tone light and friendly, almost as if there’s no time at all between now and the last time you spoke. “Hi, Koji,” he greets, his voice warm as he crouches down to your son’s level, who’s holding a drink in both hands and looking up at Suguru with wide eyes.

"Hi," Koji replies enthusiastically, his eyes bright. “What are you doing here today?”

Suguru laughs, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief moment before he answers. “I try to help however I can. It’s all about giving back to the community, especially for kids like you, Koji. You’re the future.” He winks at your son, causing him to giggle and squirm a little from the attention.

You can’t help but smile at the interaction, but the knot in your stomach tightens. It’s hard to shake off the awkwardness of your previous encounters with Suguru. You’re not sure what to say now, especially since Koji is so at ease with him. Suguru shifts his attention to you, his expression gentle but knowing. "How’ve you been? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" His tone isn’t pressing, just an easy question, though you sense the unspoken weight behind it.

You nod, still caught in the familiarity of his presence, but unsure of how much to reveal. "Yeah, it’s been a while." You pause, taking a breath before adding, “So, what’s all this?”

“Fundraiser, we hold one every month,” Suguru explains with a warm smile, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “We do one every month. All the proceeds go to local programs for kids. Things like scholarships, school supplies, and community events. It's a way to give back, especially to kids who might not have access to these kinds of opportunities otherwise."

You take in his words, surprised by how much he’s dedicated to this cause. "I didn't realize you were this involved," you admit, watching as more children approach Suguru, clearly looking up to him.

“Yeah," Suguru chuckles, glancing at the growing crowd. "I really believe in it. This is what I want to do with my life now, and it’s been a rewarding journey. Kids are the future, you know? It's just about giving them the right tools to grow."

You can’t help but be impressed. Suguru always had ambition, but hearing him speak so passionately about his work hits differently now. There’s a quiet weight to his words, as if he’s found his purpose. “You've come a long way,” you say, not able to hide the slight smile tugging at your lips. "I'm glad to see you're doing something meaningful."

Suguru waves it off, his smile a little sheepish. "It’s really the kids who make it fun. I’m just happy I can help make something like this happen." There’s a brief pause between you two, the familiar tension that used to hang in the air now replaced by a quieter, unspoken understanding.

Suguru looks at you. “But, thank you, Y/N. It feels good. And it’s nice to see someone who remembers where I started." The familiarity of the moment hangs in the air between you, the unspoken history still lingering. You remember the time when things were simpler, before everything became complicated and messy. Suguru was always someone you could rely on, someone who was easy to talk to.

Koji pulls on your sleeve, his voice bright. "Mom, can I play the game over there?" You glance over at the game booth he’s pointing to, noticing it’s one of those dart-throwing games. You’re about to nod, but Suguru cuts in.

"Let me give you both some tickets," he says, already reaching into his pocket. "For the games. My treat." You’re about to protest, but Suguru’s gaze stops you. “Really, it’s no problem. It’s the least I can do after everything.”

You swallow the retort on your tongue, a mix of gratitude and reluctance bubbling inside you. “Alright, thanks,” you say quietly. He hands you the tickets with a smile, his demeanor still easygoing.

As you two are walking, watching Koji play games, he decides now’s the time to actually talk. “Y/N, I’m sorry about—”

“You don’t need to apologize again,” you cut him off, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “I heard you, so don’t worry.”

He purses his lips. “Are you sure? I mean, I understand if you’re still put off, I would be too.”

You watch Koji and go silent for a moment. His words lingering in your mind before you switch the subject. “Did Satoru tell you I spoke with him?”

“Oh, yeah,” he scratches at his head. “How was it? I heard it from his perspective, but what about yours?”

“Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.” Suguru nods, not wanting to pry anymore. Your vague answers are enough. “His parents found out too.”

“What?” he asks in bewilderment. “T-They did? How? What did they say?”

“Satoru said they sent someone to watch him because he was missing from work for a while. They weren’t very happy, and they want to see Koji and me tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Suguru shakes his head. “Are you going to?”

“I feel like I have no choice but to. It’s not like I can avoid this forever.”

“You always have a choice, Y/N.”

You glance at him, his words catching you off guard. “Do I, though? They’re his family, Suguru. And like it or not, Koji deserves to know where he comes from.”

“I get that,” he says, crossing his arms, his expression thoughtful. “But just because they’re family doesn’t mean they automatically get to dictate everything. You have a say in this too. Don’t let them push you around.”

You nod, appreciating his words but still feeling the overwhelming pressure of the situation. “I’ll try. I just...I don’t want to make things harder for Koji.”

Suguru places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re his mom. As long as you’re looking out for him, you’re doing what’s right.”

His reassurance is a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty you’re swimming in. You give him a faint smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Suguru.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft but genuine. “And if you need backup, you know where to find me.”

You laugh lightly, the tension in your chest easing for just a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Walking home after that day out, putting Koji to take a nap, cleaning up a bit, you send Satoru a text.

“We’ll come. Send me your address.”

You arrive to Satoru’s penthouse with Koji in tow thirty minutes early. Koji was wowing the entire train ride here, even now as he looks up at the large and tall building before him, his eyes are wide with child-like amusement. A part of you feels bad that he’s getting this excited over buildings and nice lights, but hey, you would be too if all you were accustomed to was the other side of town.

The two of you step out of the cab, Koji’s small hand in yours. It practically glows under the evening sky, reflecting the city lights like something out of a movie. Koji’s awe is palpable, his mouth slightly open as he marvels at the sheer size of the structure. “Mama,” he tugs on your hand, his eyes not leaving the building. “Do people actually live in places like this? Like...all the time?”

You chuckle softly, though there’s a slight pang in your chest. “Yeah, Koji. Some people do.”

“It’s so cool,” he breathes, craning his neck as far as it can go. “Do they have their own rooms? And toys? And candy?”

“Probably,” you say with a light laugh, gently guiding him toward the entrance. “But don’t get too excited, okay? We’re just here to visit.”

As you step inside, the pristine marble floors and sleek, modern design hit you instantly. The lobby is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive-looking furniture scattered about. Even the air feels different—cleaner, cooler, like it’s filtered or something. A well-dressed doorman greets you with a polite nod, and you awkwardly return it, not quite sure how to act in a place this fancy. Koji, however, is too busy looking around, his eyes darting from the chandelier to the grand piano in the corner. “Mama, look! That’s a real piano! Like the one on TV!”

“Yeah, I see it,” you murmur, trying to stay focused. The feeling of being out of place creeps up on you, but you push it aside. This isn’t about you—it’s about Koji. When you reach the elevator, you press the button for the top floor, and the doors slide open with a soft chime. Stepping inside, Koji bounces on his heels, still brimming with excitement. “Do you think it’s like the movies where the elevator talks?” he asks, his voice full of wonder.

You smile, ruffling his hair. “We’ll see, bud.” The elevator glides upward so smoothly that you barely feel it moving. Koji’s little gasp of excitement when the numbers light up makes you chuckle again, though your stomach tightens as you near the top. You realize Satoru’s space is on the highest floor. Thirty seconds later, the doors open to reveal a sleek, private hallway with only one door at the end. “This is it, Koji,” you say, taking a deep breath as you step out of the elevator. “Are you ready?”

Koji nods enthusiastically, gripping your hand tighter. “Ready!”

You walk toward the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. It feels heavier with every step, but you keep moving forward. Reaching the door, you hesitate for a moment, then press the doorbell. A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Satoru, looking as casual as ever—with a hint of nervousness in a loose sweater and jeans. His bright blue eyes light up when he sees Koji. “Hey, you two made it.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Koji, welcome to my place.”

Koji’s jaw drops as he takes in the massive living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “This is your house?!”

Satoru grins, picking him up. “Sure is, kiddo. What do you think?”

Koji looks up at you with wide eyes. “Mama, this is way cooler than the buildings outside!”

You laugh nervously, squeezing Koji’s hand. “Yeah, it’s...something.”

Satoru walks around his place, watching the two of you with a small smile. “Make yourselves comfortable. And hey, I promise this’ll go smoother than you think.”

“You’re saying that now,” you mutter with a grimace.

“C’mon, just trust me. I’m here.”

The phrase causes you to clear your throat awkwardly, a sudden memory hitting you—one you push down quickly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Want some water? Juice?”

“No juice for him, he had a candy on the way here.”

“But Mamaaaaaa,” Koji whines, dragging out his words. “Please, I want some of Papa’s juice.”

“I have all kinds of juice, little man. Red juice, pink juice, green juice.”

“Green?!”

“Mhm.”

“I wan—”

“Satoru.” You say, firmness in your voice. Arms crossing. “I said no juice.”

Satoru’s smile falters as he registers your intonation, his eyes flicking to yours like he’s trying to decipher something. The room feels heavier suddenly, like the air between you is crackling with something unspoken. “Alright,” he says softly, straightening up. “No juice. Got it.” The tone of his response catches you off guard, almost making you feel like you’d scolded him instead of your son. You shift uncomfortably, glancing at Koji, who’s now frowning. Satoru sets him down, to which he gets easily distracted by the shiny skyscrapers outside, rushing over to the large floor to ceiling windows.

Satoru steps back, running a hand through his hair. “I was just trying to—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a dry laugh. “Never mind.”

You exhale, feeling a pang of guilt but unsure why. “It’s not... Look, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, his tone lighter but his eyes saying something else. “You’re right. Mama’s rules. I’ll stick to them.”

There’s an awkward pause, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for... what, exactly? He catches you looking, and for a brief, jarring moment, you’re back in a place you swore you’d moved on from—a place where his charm felt like safety and his presence could undo you. Your stomach is already feeling warm. You snap out of it quickly, clearing your throat. “Thanks. For understanding.”

Satoru tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “Always.”

It feels like a strange promise, one that hangs in the air too long before Koji interrupts, shouting, “Mama! Look, it’s snowing!”

The tension breaks, and you turn to the window, grateful for the distraction. “Wow, it is,” you say, forcing a smile.

Behind you, Satoru’s voice is quiet but pointed. “Snow’s always a fresh start, right?”

You don’t respond, unsure if he’s talking about the weather—or the two of you. Focusing on the snowfall, Satoru takes this moment to side-glance at you. He almost curses himself for wanting to comment on how pretty you look. Not now. But for some reason, his hand is inching up as it it’s about to move a strand of hair out your eye, until you look at him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He coughs out, quickly bringing his hand to his nose and wiping at it. Real smooth, Satoru. “Yeah, sure. Down this hall to your right.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he can’t resist watching you leave, eyes moving down to your ass. His stare lingers even when you’re out of sight. The sound of Koji’s voice bringing him back down to Earth.

“Why do you stare at Mama like that?”

“What? I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you lying, Papa?”

“Kid…”

“But it’s normal, right? You and Mama are married.”

God, his innocence is too sweet for Satoru. How exactly can his explain your relationship to the young boy? Not now at least and especially not without you. Hopefully when his son learns the truth one day, he won’t grow to somehow resent him. Or you. Satoru’s throat tightens at Koji’s words. The boy's wide, trusting eyes make the situation ten times harder than it already is. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to think of a response that won’t shatter Koji’s innocence or dig himself into a deeper hole. “Well, uh…” he starts, stalling. “Sometimes grown-ups have… complicated relationships.”

Koji tilts his head, frowning in confusion. “What’s complicated mean?”

Satoru lets out a nervous laugh, ruffling Koji’s hair. “It means… not everything is simple, kiddo. Like math problems that don’t make sense at first.”

Koji wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like math.”

“Exactly,” Satoru says with a relieved grin. “Neither do I. Let’s stick to the fun stuff, okay?”

“Okay, they’re here.”

You take in a deep breath, holding Koji closer to your chest as he sits on your lap. Satoru’s dining room chairs feel too stiff for a situation like this. He’s standing—pacing, and checking his phone constantly after his mother just texted him they were coming up. The tension in the air is suffocating. You grip Koji just a little tighter, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over his soft hair as a way to ground yourself. The stiffness of the chair beneath you feels like punishment, but maybe it’s just nerves crawling into every corner of your body.

Across the room, Satoru paces like a man trying to walk off a bad decision. His long legs carry him back and forth in front of the large windows, the city lights behind him casting an almost surreal glow. He checks his phone again, the screen lighting up briefly before he shoves it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh. You bite your lip, trying not to snap. “You pacing like that isn’t helping.”

He stops mid-step, glancing at you with a mixture of guilt and irritation. “You think I don’t know that? They texted ‘coming up’ five minutes ago. How long does it take to ride an elevator?”

You arch a brow. “You live on the thirty-fourth floor.”

He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that this feels like the longest elevator ride in history.”

Koji, oblivious to the storm brewing between the adults, tilts his head up at you. “Mama, why are you squishing me?”

“Oh,” you blink, loosening your grip immediately. “Sorry, baby.”

Koji giggles, wiggling to get more comfortable. “It’s okay. Papa’s the one acting funny.”

You glance at Satoru, who’s resumed pacing, his jaw tight. “Yeah,” you mutter, half to yourself. “He’s definitely acting funny.” Before either of you can say more, there’s a sharp knock at the door. It’s like the room collectively holds its breath. Koji perks up curiously, his innocent smile the only light in this tense moment.

Satoru freezes, staring at the door as if it might explode. “Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “Here we go.”

He crosses the room in a few long strides, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before he pulls it open. And there they are. His parents, Yamato and Akane Gojo, standing like an imposing force just outside the threshold. Yamato is tall and sharp-eyed, his tailored suit as immaculate as his demeanor. Akane, with her perfectly styled hair and the kind of elegance that demands attention, steps in with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the room feels even smaller. Their eyes sweep over you and Koji, pausing on the boy who’s now hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Hello,” Akane says, her voice smooth but laced with something unplaceable. “I believe we have a lot to discuss.”

You gulp and nod as they come closer, Satoru closing the door and quickly making his way to sit beside you. “Nice to see you two again.” The phrase feels hollow and fake on your tongue, but what exactly should you say to them?

Yamato hums as he and his wife sit across from you and Satoru. Their eyes instantly landing on Koji who regards them with a nervous, child-like expression. “This is the boy.”

“Yes,” Satoru answers. “Koji.”

Yamato’s gaze lingers on Koji, sharp and calculating, as though he’s analyzing every detail of the child. Koji squirms slightly under the weight of the attention, pressing closer to you. You instinctively wrap an arm around him, protective. Akane's expression softens just a touch, but it’s subtle—barely enough to ease the tension in the room. “He looks like you, Satoru,” she comments, her voice light but with an underlying edge.

Satoru shifts beside you, his posture stiff. “Yeah, well… genetics and all.”

You glance at him, suppressing an eyeroll. Now’s not the time for his half-hearted attempts at humor. Yamato finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “And how long has this been… a secret?”

The question feels like a slap, even though you were expecting it. You glance down at Koji, unsure of how much to say in front of him. Satoru clears his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Look, I didn’t find out about Koji until recently,” he admits, his tone surprisingly steady. “And as soon as I did, I took responsibility. That’s why we’re here now.”

Yamato’s eyes flick to you, cold and questioning. “And you? Why keep this from him?”

You feel your heart drop, but you refuse to let their judgment pin you down. “I had my reasons,” you say, your voice firm despite the way your palms are sweating. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but I did what I thought was best for my son.”

“And best for Satoru?” Akane interjects, her tone calm but pointed.

You hesitate, unsure how to answer without sounding defensive. Before you can respond, Satoru leans back, his arms crossed. “Enough,” he says, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about blame. It’s about Koji. He’s here now, and I want him to be part of my life. That’s all that matters.”

Kaede studies him for a long moment, then shifts her gaze back to Koji. “What about the boy? Does he even know who we are?”

Koji glances up at you, his small fingers clutching your sleeve. “Mama?” he whispers.

You force a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. These are… your grandparents.”

Koji’s eyes widen, curiosity replacing some of his nervousness. “Grandparents? Like in the stories?”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle softly, breaking some of the tension. “Yeah, kid. Like in the stories.”

For a moment, the room feels lighter, but Yamato’s expression doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll need to decide what role we play in his story,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. Your stomach twists, and Satoru’s jaw tightens. This conversation is far from over.

Satoru leans forward, his hands clasped on the table, tension rolling off him. “You don’t get to ‘decide’ anything, Dad. Koji is my son, and I’ll handle how he fits into this family.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “You think this is just about you, Satoru? This affects all of us—the Gojo name, our reputation. Your actions have consequences, and it’s my job to ensure they don’t spiral out of control.”

You bristle at his tone, your arm tightening around Koji. “Koji is not some ‘consequence,’ Mr. Gojo. He’s a child. Your grandson. Maybe you should start there instead of worrying about appearances.”

Akane's gaze flickers between you and her husband, her expression unreadable. “Yamato,” she says softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Let’s not lose sight of what’s important here.” Yamato exhales sharply, but he doesn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Satoru.

“Look,” Satoru says, his voice lowering. “I get it. This isn’t ideal for you. But Koji is here, and I’m not going to let him feel like he’s some kind of mistake. He’s part of this family whether you like it or not.”

There’s a pause, heavy and suffocating, before Akane finally speaks. “He’s very handsome,” she says, her tone softer now. “I see the resemblance to you, Satoru. But I also see… her.” She glances at you, and for the first time, her expression isn’t cold. However, that doesn’t mean there’s complete acceptance there. She looks down at her lap with a sigh. “If only it was someone of higher class.”

You and Satoru equally clench your jaw, eyes narrowing.

Koji looks up at you, then at Satoru. “Papa, what’s a ‘rep-…repu-shun’?”

Satoru chuckles despite himself. “It’s something adults worry about too much, buddy. Don’t worry about it.”

Yamato’s lips twitch as if he’s holding back a retort, but Akane cuts in before he can speak. “Koji,” she says gently, leaning slightly forward. “Do you like sweets?”

Koji nods, his nervousness giving way to excitement. “Yes! I like cookies and cake and green juice!”

Kaede smiles faintly. “Maybe next time you visit, I can make some cookies for you. Would you like that?”

Koji’s face lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”

You’re caught off guard by the gesture, but you stay silent, observing the interaction. First she bashes your status and now she’s trying to be the sweet grandma. Satoru shifts beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly. It’s so subtle you almost miss it, but the warmth lingers, grounding you. You could’ve sworn he lets it linger there purposely.

Yamato clears his throat, “You understand your role as heir, yes, Satoru? Having children of your own to pass the legacy down to,” he says, his tone clipped.

You purse your lips. “I don’t want my son being involved in something he doesn’t have to.”

“This isn’t a choice,” Akane responds. “Although this situation is less than savory, and although we woul’ve much preferred a…different candiate. This is the reality, so your father and I have made arranagemnts.”

“You’re not doing anything without telling Y/N or I first. This is our son.” Satoru firmly says.

Yamato cuts in. “Listen, Satoru. This is just how it is. When he grows older, it’s up to you to teach him and pass things down. As of now, no one will know. Not the public, the company, investors, nobody. Until we, ourselves, have a better hold on things, this will stay under wraps.”

Your stomach twists as the weight of their words sinks in. Their calculated demeanor, their cold insistence—it’s everything you despised about this family’s way of thinking. Koji isn’t just some pawn in their grand scheme; he’s your child. “Under wraps?” you snap, unable to hold back. “What does that even mean? You expect us to keep Koji’s existence a secret like he’s some kind of dirty little secret? That’s not what I want for my son, I want him to have a normal and innocent childhood.”

Akane's expression barely falters. “This is for his protection, as well as the family’s reputation. The world can be… cruel, especially when it comes to matters like this. It’s better to control the narrative than let it control us.”

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms. “Control the narrative? He’s five, Mom. He doesn’t need a narrative. He needs parents who care about him, not a PR strategy.”

Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, Satoru. You’re the heir. Koji is your responsibility, but he’s also ours. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

“I understand just fine,” Satoru fires back, his voice rising. “You want to shove him into your world of deals and power plays without even thinking about what’s best for him. I’m not letting that happen.” You glance at Satoru, momentarily caught off guard by his unwavering stance. It’s rare to see him so serious, so resolute. For a moment, it feels like you’re on the same page, like you’re fighting together.

Yamato sighs, his patience clearly thinning. “We’re not trying to take him away from you. But this family operates a certain way, and if you’re unwilling to cooperate—”

“I’m unwilling,” you cut in sharply, surprising even yourself. “Koji isn’t going to grow up like this. He’s not going to be molded into some heir, forced to carry on legacies he didn’t ask for. He’s going to be a kid, my kid, and that’s all. If the time comes when he’s old enough to make that decision, then so be it. But right now…we are making it.” Satoru looks at you, a look of almost tender reliance in his face. He can’t help but scooch closer to you in his chair, the back of his knuckles grazing your thigh as he focuses back on his parents. You don’t move, for some reason.

Akane narrows her eyes, her perfectly composed exterior cracking ever so slightly. “You may not understand the gravity of this situation, Y/N, but you’ll come to see it’s for the best. We’re not here to argue with you. We’re here to ensure the future.”

“And I’m here to ensure my son’s happiness,” you bite back, standing as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “If you can’t respect that, then maybe we’re done here.” The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Koji, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, hums softly to himself, playing with the edge of his shirt.

Satoru finally speaks, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You don’t make arrangements for Koji without consulting us. This isn’t the company. You don’t get to call the shots here.”

Yamato frowns, standing up as well. Insticvively, Satoru follows, getting in front of you and Koji slightly in a protective stance. Finally, he crosses his arms, looking at the little family before him. Two of them looking exactly the same, for a second, Yamato feels like he’s talking to the past and future version of his son. In a way, he is. “...fine. You two are his parents, then fine. But it is my duty to ensure nothing wrong happens. My point still stands, it’s not wise to reveal Koji to the public eye yet,” he meets your eyes again. “You said you want him to have a normal childhood. Well, you should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. If you know what’s best, you’d agree with me.”

Without another word, Akane follows her husband to the door, and the two leave; the door slamming after them. The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the room, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Satoru uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply. You glance at Koji, who’s watching the door with a curious expression, seemingly oblivious to the tension that just passed.

“That man,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Who does he think he is, saying that?”

Satoru turns to you, his jaw tight but his voice calm. “That’s just how he is. Always has to have the last word, even if it’s total bullshit.”

You shift Koji on your hip, brushing his hair back softly as your mind replays Yamato’s parting words. You should’ve thought about that before deciding to keep him. The sting of it makes your chest tighten, but you force yourself to push it aside. “Are you okay?” Satoru asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you lie, though your voice falters slightly. “I’m just…angry. I know we’re not exactly best friends, but he has no right to talk about my decisions like that.”

Satoru watches you for a moment before sighing. “You’re right. He doesn’t. And you know what? Screw him. You’ve done everything for Koji. He doesn’t get to sit there and judge you from his high horse.”

The unexpected sincerity in his words takes you off guard, and for a moment, you can’t meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you murmur, focusing instead on Koji, who’s now fiddling with a string on his shirt.

Koji suddenly pipes up, breaking the tension. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Satoru says, taking him from your arms. “They’re gone. You don’t have to worry about them.”

“Good,” Koji says with a pout. “They were scary.”

You chuckle softly. “They’re just loud, that’s all. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, his gaze flicking to you. “So, what now?”

“What now?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. About them, about Koji, about…everything.” The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded, but for once, it doesn’t feel like it’s just your burden to bear. You meet Satoru’s eyes, and for the first time in years, it feels like you’re standing on the same side of the battlefield. “I guess we figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Satoru nods, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “Together, huh? I like the sound of that.”

It’s not a solution, not yet. But it’s a start. You can see a flicker in Satoru’s expression before he walks with Koji over to the living room. It’s one of hesitance, you understand. He doesn’t entirely forgive you, let alone trust you. But he’s trying, for Koji. This mess happened because you kept your mouth shut, so maybe it’s time you start trying too. You and Satoru are in each other’s lives now, so is there a rush to mend things between you two?

The annual board dinner is just as horrible as Satoru expected. Lavish decorations, stiff small talk, and the overbearing weight of expectations pressed down on him like the overly starched collar of his tailored suit. He’d tried to duck out of it, but his father’s suggestion—which was really an order—left no room for argument. “Smile, Satoru,” Yamato had muttered through gritted teeth when they entered the grand hall. “You’re representing this family.”

So here he was, nursing a glass of expensive champagne that tasted like regret and counting the minutes until he could leave. He glanced around, catching sight of familiar faces mingling and laughing, some of them stealing glances his way with the kind of superficial interest he loathed. “God, this is insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.

Having to charm old men into doing business with his father, flirt here and there with the older, taken women. Smile, smile, smile. For presentation sake.

“Oh, look who it is.”

He groans, looking to the side and being met with the hard and chiseled face of Sukuna. A long term enemy of Satoru’s. Though he keeps it cordial in front of everyone else, he can’t help but engaged in the quiet back and forth. “My number one fan.” Satoru remarks simply, head tilting in a patronzing way.

Sukuna smirked, his sharp features twisting into something smug and self-assured. “Always the comedian, Gojo. I’m surprised you even remember how to crack a joke with how far your head is stuck up your family’s expectations.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched, but his grin didn’t waver. “And here I thought you showed up just to kiss my ass. Flattered, really.”

Their exchange was quiet enough to blend in with the hum of chatter around them, but the tension was palpable. Sukuna, with his sharp suit and predatory air, looked like he belonged here, but his presence was always unsettling. Pink hair that pokes up in a way that just barely reminds him of a certain someone. “I hear the old man’s got you busy charming fossils and bored housewives. Must be exhausting, all that fake smiling. Oh, wait, you’re used to that.”

Satoru’s laugh was light, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “What can I say? Some of us don’t need to rely on intimidation tactics to close deals. Or...whatever it is you call your little power plays.”

Sukuna stepped closer, the faintest hint of challenge in his stance. “Careful, Gojo. You might hurt my feelings.”

Satoru didn’t back down, his posture just as relaxed, his smile just as infuriatingly calm. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, someone’s got to keep you entertained, right?”

Sukuna chuckled darkly, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re lucky this is a formal event. If we were anywhere else—”

“You’d what?” Satoru cut him off, his voice dropping an octave. “Throw another tantrum and lose? You’ve got quite the track record there, Sukuna.”

The older man’s jaw twitched, but he only gave a low, mirthless laugh. “Enjoy your little victories while you can, Gojo. You won’t always have Daddy to clean up after you.”

“No, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” Satoru grins, patting the other man’s shoulder as everyone begins making their way to the tables as the speaker is about to begin.

Satoru finds his spot next to his parents, arms crossed and one long leg over the other. His dark suit ruffles as circles his shoulders up and down in a fit on annoyance for the tight material.

The speaker, an older man with graying hair and a polished suit, steps up to the podium, his presence commanding immediate attention. The room quiets as he clears his throat, adjusting the microphone with practiced ease. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins, his voice rich and steady. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed the pre-dinner mingling, and I trust we’re all ready to get down to the business at hand. I won’t keep you long, but I must take a moment to reflect on the state of our industry, where we stand, and most importantly, where we’re going.” He pauses for effect, letting his gaze sweep over the gathered crowd. The eyes of the room are trained on him, but Satoru’s attention is divided, flicking between the speaker and the people seated around the table.

“Now, as we all know, times are changing. The landscape of business, both locally and globally, is evolving at a pace none of us could have predicted just a few short years ago. Innovation is at the forefront, and it is only through strategic alliances and forward-thinking leadership that we can continue to rise above the challenges that face us.” The speaker’s voice carries on with the rhythm of a man used to holding the room’s attention. “This is a pivotal moment, not only for our companies but for the future of the industry itself. It is with great anticipation that we look toward new ventures, new opportunities, and a commitment to excellence that can only be achieved through collaboration.”

A murmur ripples through the room as people nod in agreement, sipping their drinks, seemingly in sync with the speaker’s words.

“We have much to look forward to—be it through acquisitions, technological advancement, or our ongoing partnerships. The work ahead is exciting, but it requires unity, dedication, and a shared vision for what we can accomplish together. As we continue to push the boundaries, we must remember that this is more than just business; this is about legacy.” The speaker’s eyes flick over the audience, and for a split second, he meets Satoru’s gaze, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

“Tonight, we celebrate not only our past accomplishments but the bright future ahead. Let’s raise our glasses to the partnerships that have gotten us this far, and to the many more we will form in the years to come.”

A polite round of applause erupts, and the speaker steps back from the podium, signaling the end of his speech. The chatter begins again, and Satoru leans slightly forward with a soft smirk. “Business as usual,” he says under his breath, his tone light but with an edge of something more.

Satoru follows as everyone raises their glasses for a toast, clinking sounding throughout the large hall. Until, there’s small murmuring. It doesn’t faze Satoru as he sips, but then there’s gasps and whispers that sound like confusion mixed with shock.

Glancing around, there’s folks looking at their phones, talking to one another in a quiet voice, and then…looking directly at Satoru and his parents. His brows furrow. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” His father responds, too busy drinking his glass, even drinking his wife’s.

“This.” Satoru says with finality, jutting his chin up. His father and mother finally pay attention. Noticing the extra amount of attention of them tonight. Satoru spots Sukuna sitting at his table, eyes narrowing as one of his colleagues show him his phone. And then, Sukuna looks up, meeting Satoru’s eyes. Suddenly, everything feels wrong. He can make out the malicious smirk on the douchebag’s face, the laugh he doesn’t even try to hide.

What the fuck?

The Gojos continue glancing around with confusion, Satoru with growing annoyance. Until finally, Nanami briskly walks up to his father. “Mr. Gojo,” he clears his throat. The three turn to the man, Satoru can see a foreign trace of nervousness in Nanami’s demeanor. That’s not like him at all.

Nanami can barely seem to articulate the correct sentence before turning his phone towards the Gojos.

And their blood runs cold, Satoru’s world momenatrily stopping.

It's a news article from Kyodo News+—the headline screaming in bold letters:

"Gojo Satoru’s Secret Love Child Surfaces: The Hidden Son of a Billionaire."

The scream shatters the tension in the air, sharp and filled with raw emotion. Himari’s voice echoes down the halls, a guttural cry of frustration, shock, and betrayal that causes everyone within earshot to freeze. She doesn’t care that her perfectly styled hair is being whipped around as she pushes her way through the staff, her hands trembling in a mix of fury and disbelief. The phone she had been holding moments ago crashes against the wall, the screen cracking as her thoughts spiral out of control. Her breath is ragged, each step fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger as she moves with purpose, her eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “SATORU GOJO!” she screams, her voice cracking as the words leave her lips, the weight of them crashing down on her. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The maids scatter in her wake, unsure of how to respond to the chaos unfolding. But Himari isn’t looking at them. Her focus is elsewhere—on the person who just shattered the carefully constructed world she had built, on the one who, in a single moment, has upended everything she thought she knew.

She doesn’t even notice as she storms past the door to her parents’ private quarters, the sound of her footsteps growing louder with each step. The fury in her chest roars louder than the world around her as she moves toward the only people who could possibly understand the devastation she feels.

It’s not just betrayal anymore. It’s the crushing weight of a life built on lies. And Himari has had enough.

“Pffft!”

“Hey! You just spit on me, you asshole!”

Naoya’s voice rings out, practically shrill with laughter. His excitement is palpable, and it only serves to irritate Toji even more. "Toji! Toji! You have to see this!" Toji’s eyes narrow, his broad arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans back in his seat. The view of Lake Como stretches before him, but it feels distant, almost irrelevant compared to his cousin’s incessant enthusiasm. Vacation my ass, he thinks bitterly, wondering why he bothered to come here in the first place. He sighs, irritation lining his features. "Look at what?"

Naoya, unable to contain himself, thrusts his phone right into Toji’s face, nearly shoving it into his nose. "Look!" he repeats, bouncing on his heels, a look of sheer excitement on his face.

Toji groans, rolling his eyes. “I thought we agreed, no phones while we’re on vacation.”

Naoya ignores him completely, his grin widening. “Oh, trust me, this is worth it.”

With a heavy sigh, Toji finally reaches for the phone, taking it reluctantly. He presses the screen, waiting for the phone to wake up. The moment it does, his eyes meet the image that fills the screen—a photo of his business rival, Satoru Gojo, accompanied by a headline that stops Toji dead in his tracks. His brows furrow, the usual calm expression faltering for a moment. The headline’s words are seared into his brain, and Toji feels a pulse of confusion and something else he can’t quite name. He leans in closer, then back again, as if trying to process what he’s seeing.

"...What the hell?" he mutters under his breath. The image before him shows Satoru with a woman, someone Toji doesn’t recognize, and a child—Satoru’s child, if the headline is anything to go by.

Naoya’s grin only grows as he watches Toji’s reaction. “Pretty wild, huh? Didn’t see that coming from Gojo, did you?”

Toji’s fingers tighten around the phone, his eyes narrowing further. He doesn’t respond at first, too absorbed in the strange mix of shock and calculation churning in his mind. This isn’t just some random leak; it’s clearly orchestrated. “Where the hell did this come from?” Toji asks, finally looking back at his cousin, who’s still watching him with amusement.

Naoya shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t know. Just saw it on a news feed. Looks like Gojo’s got some explaining to do, huh?” Toji just shakes his head, his mind already spinning with possibilities.

He tosses the phone back to Naoya. “You’ve got some sick timing. Let’s see how this plays out.”

Naoya chuckles, oblivious to the wheels turning in Toji’s mind. “You know, you might want to take advantage of this. Could mean something for the company, or at least an edge over Gojo.”

Toji’s lips curl into a slight smirk, but it’s more predatory than playful. “We’ll see, Naoya. We’ll see.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, like nothing’s real. Staring at your TV screen with complete and utter shock, frozen in place. The world around you feels like it’s fading, as if you’re watching everything happen from a distance, disconnected from reality. Your eyes are locked on the TV screen, but you can’t process what you’re seeing—everything is too surreal.

“Hey, that’s me!” Koji happily exclaims, pointing to his young face on the screen, being carried by Satoru. From the looks of it, the picture was taken yesterday, inside Sator’s penthouse. But the picture is from an outside perspective.

The realization hits you like a cold wave. Who the hell took this? The blood drains from your face as your heart pounds even harder. How did they get this shot? Your stomach turns, a knot tightening in your chest. Isn’t this illegal?

Satoru’s name comes out of your mouth like a whisper of panic. “Satoru…”

You can barely hear your own voice over the buzzing in your ears, as your mind races, trying to process what this means. How could anyone have gotten this close? How could someone have been watching? The image on the screen—the calmness in Koji’s face, the warmth in Satoru’s arms—makes your blood run cold. Koji’s innocent voice cuts through again, “Mama, why is it on TV? Are we famous?” He giggles, clearly unaware of the danger that’s now in your midst.

You mouth emits a breathe of air that faintly resembles a chuckle. But you’re not laughing. You’re too frozen in fear to say anything, to even move. You can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong, that the peaceful life you’ve managed to carve out with your son is hanging by a thread. You hold your breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

How many people know about this? How much further can they go?

How much further can you go?

The woman leans back in her chair, the flickering light of her computer screen casting shadows across her face as she watches the confirmation of the transaction appear before her eyes. Her lips curl into a snarky, satisfied grin. It’s the kind of smile that’s dangerous, the kind of smile that tells you she’s one step ahead, and there’s no turning back now.

A low, almost guttural laugh escapes her—deep and malevolent, echoing in the quiet room. The money is more than just a transaction; it’s power, it’s leverage. And the best part? No one even knows it’s her. Not yet.

She pauses, letting the silence stretch out before her next move. She takes a slow, deliberate breath, savoring the moment, then leans forward. “Wonderful…” she whispers to herself.

a/n: i'm sorry if things seemed rushed, chap was getting looong. but enjoy!

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

800 notes · View notes

hazzashouse · 13 days ago

Note

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

414 notes · View notes

mingtinys · 9 months ago

Text

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

2K notes · View notes

yesihaveaobsession · 2 months ago

Text

A Well- Tailored Affair

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Being The Radio Demon's one and only personal tailor has it own perks.

A/N- Sorry I have been gone for quite some time!! But I'm back, I had NOOOOOO idea what to write and this thought came to me mid sleep at like 12am So anyways I hope you enjoy!

ALSO this was gonna proofread because I didn't have time and I missed yall so sorry if it sucks 💀

Being a tailor in Hell was no small feat, especially when your main client was none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. When you first took the job, you didn’t expect it to be much of a challenge working with his specific tastes. But over time, you came to know him like the back of your hand.

Today, he was scheduled for a fitting. He had dropped off a newer jacket last week but he said he had business to attend to and he'd come back next week and that was today. As always, the atmosphere of your small shop—which wasn’t far from the hotel—was calm and cozy. You were currently cross-stitching a dress for Rosie for some type of event in Cannibal Town when, suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. There he was. Alastor stepped inside with his signature grin, accompanied by the hum of radio static. The aura he carried was palpable. The moment he entered, you could feel the air shift.

"Ah, my favorite tailor!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide before resting his hands on the microphone in front of him. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Have you missed me?"

You chuckled softly, stepping away from your work and already reaching for the measuring tape. "You were here last week, Alastor. Hardly enough time to miss anyone." You smiled. His grin didn’t falter, though you didn’t notice how his crimson eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Truth be told, Alastor liked you. More than he should, and more than he realized. Part of it was the trust he placed in you to handle his precious suits, which were such a vital part of who he was. But it was also because you treated them with such grace. You knew what you were doing and were exceptional at it. Not to mention, you were one of the rare souls in Hell who wasn’t afraid of him. And lastly, you were undeniably pretty—he thought that too.

"Ah, but a week without your company is an eternity, my dear," Alastor replied. You brushed off his words with a smile. He often gave small, sweet compliments about your work and how he missed you, so this wasn’t anything new. Yet today, his words seemed to carry a different meaning.

You rolled your eyes playfully, motioning for him to step onto the fitting platform. In front of him was a large mirror—he loved checking his reflection to ensure he always looked impeccable. "Alright, charmer, let’s see what we’re working with today. Did you tear another sleeve during one of your dramatics?" you teased, looking from the sleeve up into his eyes.

He let out a melodic laugh. "Guilty as charged! I simply cannot help myself. Life—or afterlife, rather—demands a flair for the theatrical!"

As you worked, your hands expertly adjusted the fabric of his jacket. You noticed his gaze drifting to you frequently. At first, you thought he might be scrutinizing your technique, but no—this was different. His grin softened ever so slightly whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Watching your focused expression gave him an odd fluttering sensation, almost like butterflies in his stomach.

"You’re very precise," he remarked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Kind of comes with the job," you replied with a smile, pinning a sleeve in place. "Can’t have the Radio Demon walking around in anything less than perfection, right?"

"Indeed. And you, my dear, are perfection. I must confess, I’ve never trusted anyone else with my suits. You have an extraordinary talent."

You paused, caught off guard by the bold confession—especially coming from him. "Thank you, Alastor. That means a lot," you said, grabbing the needle and thread.

"And," he added, tilting his head as though studying a particularly fascinating piece of art, "it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite easy on the eyes." Was he kidding? He had to be, right? Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you nearly dropped the pin you were holding. "Oh! Uh, thanks."

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, clearly amused. "Did I fluster you? My, my, how delightful!" Alastor grinned, watching you through the mirror. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "Stop moving," you muttered, focusing on adjusting the flaps on his suit. You finished stitching up the rip on his sleeve with a clean, neat stitch—it was a relatively easy fix.

The silence grew heavy until he broke it. "You’re one of the only few who doesn’t fear me, you know… It’s refreshing."

"Well, I figured if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it already," you replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire your work. Alastor’s grin widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I find your company far too enjoyable to spoil."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Alright, smooth talker, you’re good to go. You can come and pick it up in 24 hours." You watched as he stepped down from the platform, adjusted his jacket, the one he came in with and turned to face you. "Splendid! I’ll be counting the seconds until I see your lovely presence again!" He started toward the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder with that ever-present grin. "Oh, and my dear, do save a moment for tea when I return. I’d like to enjoy more of your delightful company." You smiled, shaking your head. "You better not rip your coat on purpose in the next 24 hours!" you shouted after him.

You heard his laugh echo as he left, leaving you standing in the middle of your shop, flustered and smiling despite yourself. Maybe being Alastor’s tailor wasn’t so bad after all.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #i have an obsession

461 notes · View notes

winxanity-ii · 4 months ago

Text

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic—the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

574 notes · View notes

kyeomofhearts · 6 months ago

Text

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.5k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)

Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.

Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.

Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.

Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.

To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.

Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!

Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.

And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.

[...]

To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.

Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.

Other than that...

Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.

Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-

"Hellooo? Yn!"

Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.

You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.

“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"

You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.

You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.

"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"

Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?

You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.

"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."

Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.

"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.

You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.

[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]

Oh.

Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.

Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?

You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.

Wrong.

When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.

"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"

Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.

[yn | wonwoo]

If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.

If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.

You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?

After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.

"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.

Well, that didn't last long.

You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.

Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?

"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.

You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.

"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."

As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.

But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.

As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.

Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.

Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.

"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.

Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.

After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.

Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.

After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.

"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.

Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.

With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.

As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.

"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.

You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.

Did he seriously consider you as a friend?

Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.

"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.

"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.

Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.

"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.

It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.

It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.

You had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.

"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.

And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.

“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.

And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.

“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.

It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”

Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.

You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"

Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.

Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.

Ugh, he was so annoying.

Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.

After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.

[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]

Oh god. What did he possibly want now?

[www.onwoo] why didn't you come with me? :(

Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.

[you] it's only a one-man job. also you look ridiculous with my bag.

Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.

[www.onwoo] i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼

You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.

[you] i have immaculate taste that's why.

A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.

Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.

“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.

You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.

You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.

Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.

Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.

“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.

Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”

But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.

“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.

You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”

“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.

It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.

You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.

Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.

And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.

Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.

“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.

“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.

A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.

“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.

“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.

You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.

Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.

"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”

He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.

“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.

By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.

There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.

Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.

"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"

Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.

This was going to be fun.

Part Three: Coming Soon…

1K notes · View notes