#''so when all my friends forget my name..no i won't come back and be the same.''

[thermodynamic-comedian]

if self-ish by will wood wasn't a john gaius coded album, then why would the lyrics be like That.

[sunni-stuff]

You who's studying abroad in the UK where you have a one night stand with Ghost at a bar; it's a special night for the soldiers and he gets lucky after making you laugh by telling a shitty joke thanks to the liquid confidence in you. You ask his name, and he tells you there's no need — that you'd forget by the end of the night.

Taking you back home, there was no time wasted. The man practically has you seeing stars. He pumps you full of cum, whispers absolute filth in your ears and leaves bruises on your thighs by the time it's all over. He at least cleans you up, gives you proper aftercare before disappearing while your still fucked out of your mind.

Anyways, a great night. perfect 10/10, you have a story to tell your girls. So, your life continues on track as normal, right?

Wrong!

You dream of him. You have countless dreams of him. They were graphic reenactments of that night. His stubble rubbing against your cheek, his lust-filled eyes burning into yours even in the darkness. And oh, his voice - deep and confident - the very reason why you were drawn to him in the first place.

He creeps into your dreams every single night without fail, so much so that it frustrates you. surely not because you were soaking wet afterwards, no, no, it was only because he was so annoying! Surely it wasn't because you’d end up pumping your fingers in and out your soaked cunt for hours in hopes of recreating that mindblowing orgasm he'd given you only to fail each time.

After your 10th failed attempt to cum, you crack asking the friend who took you out to the bar in the first place if she knew who the soldier was and she claims her boyfriend does. You've met Kyle before, he's a handsome man with dreamy eyes and a gentleman's demeanor.

Kyle tells you he'd pass the word back to his lieutenant, but he's a busy man who doesn't stay in one place. There's no guarantee he'd even respond.

Lucky you, screwing a lieutenant who probably doesn't remember who you are or won't have the time to find out.

The waiting game painfully starts all while the dreams continue. Each torturous night leaves you more and more agitated than before. By the 4th night, you already embraced the restlessness sure to come when the vibration of your phone changes everything.

Directly on the home screen was a text from an unknown number. There was no name, but you had a feeling who it was based on the message.

“Keep the front door unlocked for me.”

A/N I wrote this during hurricane francine when my power went out, I think she gave me superpowers. Idk I'll start flying tmr!!

P2 here

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[armxnh]

i know we just met, but i love you

synopsis: love at first sight with the tokyo revengers men.

characters: manjiro 'mikey' sano, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno

genre: fluff

warnings: none (i think...?)

masterlist.

manjiro 'mikey' sano

"ken-chinnnn" the leader of the toman whined at his taller friend. draken rolled his eyes in response, "no mikey, drop it."

"come onnnn-" the said man pouted exaggeratedly, "what did i do wrong?"

"nothing." the delinquent replied taking his wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, "you just don't need to eat twenty-five taiyaki."

"sorry to bother you but there are a lot of people who are waiting take their orders so if you could-" daiki, as it was written on his name tag, tried to cut them off from behind the counter.

for the past ten minutes, the two delinquents were arguing about their order. draken wanted to buy mikey five taiyaki, while mikey wanted his friend to buy him twenty-five of them.

draken turned his head to the cashier, "yeah, so five taiyaki and-"

"twenty-five taiyaki." "damn you-"

"hurry up! unlike other people, some of us have important things to do!" a customer yelled from the back of the line.

manjiro snapped his head to the back of the line, narrowing his eyes at the older man who had just yelled at him. "see now you're making people angry, mikey. 'm not gonna spend ¥5,272 on snacks."

"i need to eat a lot if i want to be taller!"

"for the last time. you won't get taller! you are at your maximum height!"

"alright! i'm not going through this again." a soft voice cut both of them before they could start the same argument they had 2 minutes ago. "daiki, i'll pay for their order- just make his goddamn snacks, please."

when manjiro turned to look at the person who 'saved his life', he felt like he has just died and miraculously came back to life as he made eye contact with you.

you were... pretty.

his eyes were set on you, taking in every single detail he could as if he was scared to forget how you look the second he'll look away.

"thank you, but that's not necessary!" draken politely thanked you as you grabbed your fidelity card of the small shop.

"don't worry about it! after all, those fidelity points have to be used for something." you waved him off, looking back at daiki, "could you also add my regular oder with that, please daiki?"

"o-of course, (y/n)!" the young worker quickly tapped your oder in the computer, a red hue covering his cheeks when you smiled at him.

"mikey, what do you say?" draken looked at his friend, hinting him to thank you, but his words fell into deaf ears as mikey kept looking at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

"mikey?" He nudged the said man's shoulder trying to snap him out of his thoughts, only to be ignored once more.

the tall blond dropped the smile as he turned to his friend hitting the side of his head, finally snapping him out of his thoughts, "mikey!"

"um? what?" mikey barely glanced at draken when he responded, his heartbeat increasing when you looked back at him with your receipt in hand.

"i said, what do you say to the girl who just bought you your snacks?" he replied, glancing between the two of you clearly wondering why his friend was acting weird all of the sudden.

"marry me."

ken ryuguji never whipped his head to look at his friend so fast in his life. What the hell did he just said?!

you felt your face warm up at his words, chuckling as you walk past him, placing your hand on his shoulder, "do you ask every girl who buys you snacks to marry you?"

manjiro felt like he was in heaven when you stood closer to him. how can someone be so pretty and be so nice and smell so good and be so pretty at the same time.

"what?" toman's leader came back down to earth when you handed him the box filled of taiyaki. "did i say that out loud?" manjiro mumbled, frowning to himself. before looking back at you, just to see you making your way outside. "hey- wait!"

he tossed the snacks at draken jogging to meet you outside of the shop. "w-wait!"

you turned to look at him, the soft summer breeze sweating through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open, "yes?"

"you're (y/n), right?" he asked remembering how the cashier called you when you were ordering, "i'm mikey..." he wanted to say something else but the words got caught in his throat when you smiled at him.

"nice to meet you, mikey" you replied before your eyes drifted behind him to the small group of guys that were looking at the two of you intensely, the 'ken-chin' guy from earlier standing with them. "i think your friends are waiting for you"

manjiro glanced back to see his best friends looking at them with knowing looks on their faces, "never mind them- this is- you are more important."

you looked away from him, his intense eye contact making your face feel warm, "you really know how to talk to girls you know?"

"thank you for earlier... the snacks and all..."

"that was 2 months worth of fidelity points- you better eat every single one of those taiyaki" you playfully warned the gang leader.

"don't worry about that..!" mikey replied knowing damn well that he will inhale those snacks. "can i walk you home? it's going to get dark soon- wouldn't want my wife to get attacked or something!"

wife?!

you suppress a smile at his words, "of course, wouldn't want it to get dark at 2 pm, and then get attacked by who knows what next to a bakery."

"exactly! let's go, wifey!"

takashi mitsuya

"what did you say you're brother's name was?" you asked the crying girl in front of you.

"...t- taka-shi" the small girl sobbed in your shoulder as you gently patted her head.

"alright and what's your name?" you gently asked as you scanned the area trying to find someone who looked like they had just lost their child.

"i- i- i'm mana"

"you have a really pretty name, you know?" you smiled fondly at the girl as you whipped the tears of her face with your thumbs.

"really?"

"heck yeah! it's a badass name!" you felt relief wash over you when you saw a smile spread across the kid's face, "i'm (y/n) and i'm gonna help you find your brother alright?"

"thank you..." she mumbled quietly.

"you're going to hop on my shoulders and tell me when you see your brother okay?" the girl looked up at you with stars in her eyes, you pulled mana on your shoulder, her small hands on your head.

you walked for a good 15 minutes before mana tapped your head with on hand while the other pointed toward an unknown man in the crowd of person, "they're there! that's draken!"

draken? wasn't her brother's name takashi? you wondered as you put mana to the ground your hand grabbing hers just in case she got lost again.

"mana!" a little girl's voice called out as you arrived next to the very tall guy with a dragon tattoo on his head. the small girl that looked very similar to mana hugged tightly the younger girl.

"mitsuya! ' found her" the tall guy called out for someone else behind him. the 'mitsuya' guy appeared from behind the 'draken' guy not long after he called out from him. the purple haired teen practically attacked his sister with a hug, sighing in relief.

"don't ever do that again, mana." he gently scaled his younger sister, "you could've gotten lost and we would've been really sad, al-?"

"it's fine! (y/n) helped me find you!" she pointed her finger at her. mitsuya ruffled his sister's hair, before straightening up to thank the person that help his mini-him, "thank you so mu..."

he felt like the world had stopped moving. like it was only the two of them in the middle of the festival. takashi mitsuya was in a trance. he was simply mesmerized by the sight of you.

"it's no problem, really! " you softly smiled at him, "your sister is a real angel-"

anything else you said after wasn't even registered but the delinquent in front of you. he was usually so good at this- talking to people was what he did best so... why couldn't he utter a single word for you.

his cheeks were red, his palm were sweaty, why was he anxious?- he was hanging on everything you did. even if he felt like he had forgotten how to speak, your voice felt like melody to his ears.

he snapped out of his trance when someone nudge his shoulder. mitsuya glanced at draken beside him, suddenly remembering that they weren't alone and that you were talking to him.

you looked at him with a puzzled look, "are you alright?

your question made him overthink about everything that happened in the last 2 minutes of your meeting. Did he look like a creep?

"i- i- great."

the hell was that takashi? he cursed himself.

darken cleared his throat, holding back his laugh. he brought his fist to his mouth faking coughs as he muttered a small, "real smooth, mitsuya".

you chuckled at his friend's comment, making mitsuya straighten up, you pulled out your hand for him to shake.

"let's start over, alright? i'm (y/n)... you're takashi right?"

draken stepped up clearly expecting his friend to be to lost in space to answer you, "he prefers mitsuya-"

"takashi's fine!" the said man interjected, as he quickly grabbed your hand to shake it, sending one of his pretty smile in your direction.

"i-"

"are you going to marry my brother?" he couldn't catch a break could he? luna asked you with big eyes.

you chuckled softly at her words, "how about this... i will give my number to your brother. then we'll go out to eat something to talk about marriage alright?"

"yes!" the girl tightly hugged your leg as you said that.

"does that sound like a plan to you, takashi?" yes!

mitsuya hurriedly started to look in his pocket for a pen, when draken pulled one out of his pocket with a piece of paper and handed it to the purple haired boy, "there you go, casanova"

takashi handed you the paper and the pen, before you wrote your name with your phone number on it.

"see y'a soon, taka! bye, mana don't get lost again alright?"

as soon as you were out of sight takashi turned to draken with a stern look, "not a word about this, alright?"

"you're crazy!" draken crackled putting his hand in his pocket, "i'm going to tell everyone!"

"draken!"

"as your wingman i feel like it's my responsibility-"

"no it is not!"

chifuyu matsuno

"hurry up, chifuyu!" takemichi yelled at his friend. they couldn't be late. not for that.

"how come you are slow as hell during a fight, yet you sprint your life on a sunday at 8 am?" the blond joked as he calmly walked behind takemichi with not a care in the world.

"come on! we're gonna be late!" he repeated hurriedly before stopping abruptly while looking around him.

"late to what?" chifuyu yawned, before looking at his friend, who stood there looking around, up and down as if his brain had finally snapped, "you alright?"

"alright stand here and don't move." takemichi moved the delinquent around so that he would stand in the middle of a park- an empty park.

"did you finally snapped or...?" he asked when the time traveler started to back away from him, "are you going to kill me? is this really how it's gonna end-"

"watch out!"

a voice yelled, but it was too late.

a ball directly hit his face, knocking chifuyu to the dirty ground, his eyes closing due to the shock.

it took him a couple of seconds before finally opening his eyes again, only to realize that he was in heaven. the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life held his head in her hands, her index and middle finger pressed against the front of his neck just below his jaw- making sure that his heart was still beating.

"oh- thank god! you're not dead!"

"are you an angel?" chifuyu mumbled placing his hand on top of yours- making sure you were real, "am i in heaven?"

you let a breathy chuckle at his words, "you're cute- but no you're not dead... i kicked a ball in your face- unintentionally of course!"

his eyes finally focused on you, remembering what had happened. he blinked a couple of time, his eyes scanning your face- a pretty girl's face... so close to his face with her hands on his face and his hands on her hand-

what?!

chifuyu's face became as red a tomato straitening his posture to apologize for touching you without your authorization, "i'm so sorry-"

his head came in contact with your head, making you pull back immediately from the blond. "ow! i told you i didn't do it on purpose!" you groan holding your head with your hands.

chifuyu gasped in horror at his own clumsiness as he placed a hand on the back of your head. hopping that the coldness of it would help you a little, "i'm sorry! i swear i didn't mean it! please hit me again so that we're even!"

...what? now why would he say that?

"what? what's wrong with you?! do you get turn on by getting hit or something?!"

chifuyu panically looked around to search takemichi so that he could help him. when he finally spotted him, hiding behind the swings, the time traveler was smiling proudly with his two thumbs up in the air.

his action making him recall a conversation the two of them had a couple of weeks earlier.

"so... am i married in the future?" chifuyu asked takemichi as he bit down the sandwich he made himself for lunch.

takemichi raised his brows at the question, "yeah-"

"really?!" the blond gasped, with heart in his eyes, "do i know her?! no wait- that'll ruin the surprise- is she pretty?! no wait- of course she's pretty you idiot!"

the time traveler chuckled at his friend's words, rubbing the back of his neck, "do you want me to tell you how you met?"

"no! it has to be a surprise!" chifuyu refused, "wait am i going to meet her soon? is that why you said that?! takemichi?! answer!"

"nah- like you said it has to be a surprise~"

"takemichi!"

"if it makes you feel better- you embarrassed yourself in front of her"

"how would that make me feel better?!"

that sneaky bastard.

"i'm sorry! i don't know how to talk to pretty girls..." chifuyu mumbled looking to the ground, but his face snapped back at you when he realize what he had just say, your eyes round at his words, "i- i mean not that don't know how to talk you! wait- not that you're not pretty! you are pretty- beautiful even! but that is not the point! i don't need you to hit me! just please don't think i hurt you on purpose- i don't hit pretty girls! no wait- i don't hit girls at all! but you being beautifully-pretty is just a plus you know! an-"

you smacked your hand on his mouth, stopping his rambling, the butterflies in your stomach flying way to much due to his words. "please stop-! you're too cute..."

takemichi titled his head at the scene in front of him, clearly not remembering that part of the story your older self told him in the future about how chifuyu and her had met-

but... mission failed successfully... i guess?

ⓒarmxnh

[subbmissivesuccubus]

I don't know if this kink has a name but I am just obsessed with super casual boob play lmao

Also!!?? Thank you guys for helping me reach 2K followers! It's so exciting and i've been having so much fun writing and reading the smut on this website. Here's to many more stories which hopefully give you the tingles <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, so that's the groceries we need for this week."

"Mmm."

"Oh, don't forget to buy flowers! It's my moms birthday tomorrow."

"Mmm."

"Are you even listening?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at your boyfriend, the man simply staring at you.

"Mmm."

"Ok, so that's a no." you said, rolling your eyes before snapping your fingers in front of your boyfriends face, the man jumping and blinking a few times as he was brought back to reality.

"Can you pay attention now?" you asked sternly.

"Sorry. I was too busy staring at your tits." he said honestly, making you sigh. There he goes again with his very obvious boob obsession, your man having a clear fetish for your breasts.

"Well, if you continue to ignore me, you won't see my boobs for a week."

"Or, you flash them to me now, I promise I'll remember every single word you say."

"Oh my God."

"Come here, baby. Come here." he begged, hands reaching out to quickly grab you by the hips and drag you forward, his nails digging into the fabric of your skirt as he all but manhandled you onto his lap, smiling at you as he got your legs to straddle his waist.

"You're a degenerate." you snarled as you placed your hands on his shoulder, more than familiar with this particular song and dance.

"I'm your degenerate. And besides, this is your fault you know." he said, casually fisting the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it up, "If you didn't have such perfect titties, I wouldn't be like this!"

"So you weren't obsessed with boobs before you met me?" you questioned, allowing him to tug the t-shirt upto your chin, the man greedily looking at your bra covered breasts. Not having the patience to take the shirt off of you completely, he simply pulled it over your head so it looped around the back of your neck, your arms still in the sleeves but he didn't care as all he wanted was access to his favorite part of you.

"Of course not." he said confidently as he all but face planted into your cleavage, groaning in delight as he pushed his face in as deep as he could go, "I only got obsessed when you came into the picture."

You huffed, trying to fight the blood rushing to your face and between your legs as you fisted a hand through his hair, tugging at it a bit as you got his attention:

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

"Mmhmm." your boyfriend groaned, nodding a yes against your boobs, truly happy being surrounded by your plump flesh. Sighing, you once again told him what he needed to buy for groceries, allowing him to grope and kiss you wherever he wanted. His tongue ran over your skin, huffing and humming in response every time you asked him if he was listening.

He soon pushed your bra up as well, too eager to bother unhooking it as he placed it against your collarbone, the elastic of the band digging into your skin and making your tits look even more delicious than before. He opened his mouth and took a nipple in, closing his eyes as he started suckling gently, his arms wrapped around you and pulling you in closer.

"H-Hey..." you moaned, gripping his hair tighter as he suckled on you, "It's getting late. You need to leave before the stores close."

"Mmhmm. I know." he muttered against you, tongue coming out to flick at your nipples a few times before he moved to the other breast, giving her the same treatment, "Just- fuck- give me a minute."

You sighed, jumping as you felt his hands move down to your ass, taking greedy gropes of your butt as he lost himself in the sensation of your breast in his mouth.

Yeah, you were not getting your groceries today.

~~~~~

You slipped away from the group of friends in the living room to your bedroom, wanting to get your phone which had hopefully finished charging by now. As you were checking your phone and responding quickly to a few messages, you suddenly felt a hand on your waist that swiftly moved upwards and groped your right breast.

"Eh-hey!" you hissed softly, head snapping back towards your boyfriend, his touch so familiar that you instantly knew it was him, "Cut it out! We have guests!"

"I know but I just need one suck, ok?" he asked even as his other hand came up to start unbuttoning your shirt dress, "I'll be super quick, I promise."

"You- ah!" you squealed as he got the buttons undone enough to expose your bra, his fingers digging into the cup of the right side to pull it down, revealing your bare breast to the crisp air. He turned you around and quickly bent down and took the nipple into his mouth. Your head kept snapping between him sucking your nipple and the door, on edge as if anyone walks in, it would be very obvious.

Your man groaned as he suckled on your nipple, eyelashes tickling your skin as he closed his eyes. The sound of the TV and chattering was loud enough to thankfully drown out his groans, your boyfriend suckling you so hard it made your toes curl.

"Wh-you-" you hissed as his hand quickly pulled down the other cup of your bra and exposed your other breast, "You said only one!"

"I know but I can't not suck her too!" he protested, giving your left nipple a greedy lick, "she'll get jealous!"

"What the fuck are you talking abooouuttt!" you gasped as he suddenly took the nipple in and sucked on it as well, just as vigorously. You stood there for a few seconds, allowing your maniac of a boyfriend to suck and feel you up before he finally pulled away.

"Just what I needed. Thank you baby." he said, kindly helping you stuff your tits back into your bra and right your dress, giving your tits a final squeeze before he walked out of the room, leaving you a frustrated mess with your nipples tingling.

What a menace.

~~~~~

It was movie night, one of your favorite ways to spend time together. It was always a treat to just relax with your boyfriend, put on a random movie, eat popcorn and talk.

And of course, he also loved that he gets to play with your tits the whole time.

You huffed as your boyfriend pulled you onto his lap, his legs spread wide to accommodate you between them. Bowl of popcorn in hand, you munched away at the treat even as your man slid his hands up your shirt, aiming for your breasts.

"Ew, why are you wearing a bra?" he asked, clicking his tongue as his hands got in contact with the soft fabric.

"Sometimes I like having my boobs supported by something, ok? Fucking sue me."

"You don't need a bra to support your tits when you have my hands. I'm taking it off."

Before you could even protest, your man slid his hands to your back and unhooked the bra masterfully, practically an expert at it at this point. He was about to push the straps down your arms and pull the bra out from under your shirt but then he realized- why are you wearing a shirt? You might as well be topless as he was going to play with your boobs the whole time anyway.

So with your shirt and bra tossed onto the floor, you tried your best to focus on the movie playing on screen even as your boyfriend happily groped away at your tits. Ample flesh spilling out between his fingers, he squeezed you like a toy- like your tits were something he could use to alleviate stress. Occasionally, he'd flick his fingers over your nipples, working them up to stiff peaks before gently pinching them between his thumb and index finger. He'd place his hands underneath your breasts, cupping them before he bounced them up and down, loving the feeling of your heavy flesh landing on his palms, the ripple of your breasts on impact instantly making his cock hard.

And of course, as usual, once he was done playing with his hands (which was practically an hour long activity), he'll move onto his mouth. Your body automatically moved along with him as he lifted you up a bit higher onto his lap, looping an arm over his shoulder so he had the space to lean down and take a nipple into his mouth.

"Y-You're not even watching the movie, are you?"

"Mm-mmm" he responded, shaking his head no against your breast, his response making you shiver. You rolled your eyes and continued to watch the movie, failing at it even before he started sliding his hand into your pants.

~~~~~

Of course, your boob obsessed boyfriend can't sleep unless it's on said boobs.

"Take it offfff!" he whined, wrestling with you as he harshly tugged at your shirt.

"It's cold!" you protested as you tried to pull the fabric back down over you, "I'm going to freeze!"

"I'll keep you warm! You know the rules- no clothes in bed."

"You're wearing clothes!"

"Yes but I don't have a pair of delicious tits that are just begging to be suckled!"

"Oh my God- fine, how about this?" you asked, slapping his hand away from your shirt before you pulled up upto your chin, flashing him your bare boobs, "Just get in here and I get to keep the shirt on."

"...Why didn't you just say so?"

You grunted as you were tackled, pushed to lie down on the bed as your boyfriend landed on top of you, face first into your tits. You pulled your shirt over his head, covering the dopey smile on his face as he used his hands to push your tits against him, shaking his head from side to side as he motorboated you.

He thankfully still had some sense to pull the blanket over the two of you and you were able to dim the lights, whipping your phone out so you can get some screen time before you went to sleep. You felt wetness on your left nipple, your boyfriend finally done with shaking your fat tits in his face.

His tongue ran in circles over the hard bud, dragging it slowly as he knew he could take his time. He started flicking your bud harshly, his hot tongue making you shiver with each flick. Eventually, he sealed his lips around it, groaning happily as he started to suck. He was noisy- moaning like he was eating a delicious meal and the slobbering noises of him feasting on you making your ears ring, the pressure he used to suckle on you keeping you on your toes.

As he sucked on the left one, his hand came up to play with the right, toying with her as he got her ready to be sucked next. He rubbed the nipple around with his thumb before pinching it gently, giving her a few twists once in awhile. He was latched onto the same nipple for almost 30 minutes before he moved onto the next one, but not before dragging himself from underneath your shirt and pushing the fabric upto your chin.

Fuck it. You were falling asleep and now your body was running hot so you didn't really care.

"Baby... I want-" he gave your nipple a kiss before he snuggled his face into the fat of your breast before looking up at you, "I want to drink your milk. Make it for me."

"How many biology lessons did you fail for you to think that's possible?" you asked, your eyelids drooping and voice heavy.

"Why are you not pregnant yet? I cum in you like, everyday."

"...You know I'm still on birth control."

"I know but I'm confident I can defeat it."

"Mmkay, keep dreaming. Now shut up- i'm gonna sleep."

"...Stop taking your birth control."

"I'm not having a baby just so you can drink some breast milk."

"Of course not. We'll have a baby because we're in love and we'll be together forever!"

You opened one eye and looked down at him, letting him know you were not impressed.

"...And so I can drink your milk."

"Just keep sucking or sleep."

He pouted before he took your left nipple into his mouth.

~~~~~

Gojo Satoru, Haibara, Shanks, Sanji, Luffy, Ace, Kaeya, Kaveh, Childe, Cyno, Itto, Uzui, Sanemi, Eren, Jean etc. etc.

[wileys-russo]

forget me not (2) II l.williamson

part one forget me not (2) II l.williamson

"mum i need to go."

"leah no-" but her mums words were cut off as the blonde clicked end call, fingers flying against her screen until she found your contact, call after call declined until it stopped ringing all together.

she then moved to texting, sending message after message until the 'do not disturb' notification popped up and her stomach heaved, you never put your phone on do not disturb.

her guilt peaked even higher noticing all of the messages above those she'd sent to you in a panic, clearly prior to your graduation and worrying about her whereabouts.

(8) iMessages from; lover girl 💐 hey baby i just arrived, you were dead to the world when i left (shock x) i'm kind of nervous! they just handed out our caps and gowns, its feeling really real now. what if i fall over when i'm walking up?? someone just put that thought in my head and now it won't go away 🥲🥲 i can't wait to just look out and see your pretty face, you can always ground me even without trying💘💘💘 *three missed calls* less just called me, she's leaving soon so i hope you're up and showering! i know you're not the best texter in the morning anyway grumpy 🫶🏻 we have to switch our phones off and leave them in our bags now babe but i'll see you in a little while. still so nervous ah! your support means everything, i love you leah 🩵

even though leah knew you were upset, the fact you hadn't made any attempts to call or message her after her no show only solidified it further for her, the blonde selfishly sort of wishing you had to ease her guilt even just a little.

"fuck!" the girl swore as she threw her phone on the passenger seat, burying her face in her hands with a deep and prolonged exhale. "okay think leah, think." she mumbled to herself, fists balling and rubbing against her eyes until she saw stars, head thumping back against the headrest.

grabbing her phone again she winced seeing the multitude of other missed calls, from alessia, your mum, your aunt, your best friend, all worrying that something had happened to her for her not to show up, the sweet messages from your mum checking in if she was okay hitting her in the stomach in a different sort of way.

"alessia!" she realized, quickly hitting call on the girls contact, feeling like an idiot for not even noticing her friends absence and putting two and two together, this was a brand new low.

"come on!" leah grunted, calling the younger girl easily six times and each one going right to voicemail, finger hovering over your mums contact before abandoning that idea with a shake of her head.

"shit." leah swore again checking your location and noticing you'd stopped sharing with her, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced and her fingers drummed against the wheel wracking her brain for anything.

"fuck me leah where did she say the celebration was afterwards?" the footballer mumbled to herself, eyes squeezing close as she tried to think back, unable to even remember you mentioning your graduation in the last few days, another nail in the coffin of realizing she had been an awful girlfriend to put it lightly.

a sudden spark of hope she grabbed her phone again, clicking into instagram and huffing when both you and alessia hadn't posted anything, searching up several of your friends and families accounts finding the same wall of silence in her way.

growing even more desperate leah clicked into an app she checked maybe once a year, only keeping her facebook active for the sake of her childhood friends.

"thank you aunty gillian, thank you!" leah whispered as a quick scroll of her feed showed your godmother had posted some pictures from the graduation and the post ceremony celebrations, a quick zoom confirming the restaurants name on a menu on the table.

without another seconds hesitation she was putting the address into maps, car roaring to life as she peeled out of the colney carpark at top speed, flying across town and swearing loudly as she seemed to hit every red light in all of london.

"williamson." she barked to the valet as she screamed to a halt in front of the hotel where the restaurant was, throwing the keys at the young boy who didn't even have time to say a word before she was pushing through the double doors and bursting inside.

"m'am im really sorry you can't-" the hostess tried to stop leah as she barreled past, ignoring her completely and hurrying into the restaurant. it didn't take her long to find your closest friends and family on a big table in the corner, alessia spotting her before anyone else did and eyes widening.

though as leah came to a screaming halt in front of them, the table falling quiet as they took her in, still clad in an arsenal tracksuit with wet hair and frantic eyes looking as you would have said had you been present, a hot mess.

"no auntie ava its alright, i'll handle it." alessia murmured to your mum as leah shrank under the scrutiny and harsh glares from your friends and family, nobody impressed with her no show even if they didn't know the full story.

"you need to leave, right now." alessia warned, grabbing the blonde by her bicep and pulling her away from the table, around the corner and out of view. "less please i can-" leah started as the younger girl held up a hand.

"i don't care leah. i've just gotten her to calm down after she's just spent twenty minutes crying in the bathroom after her big day!" alessia warned, leah taken aback by the venom in her teammates tone, the girl normally so sweet butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

but there was one thing your cousin didn't mess about with, and that was family.

"she cried?" leah deflated, voice barely above as whisper as the taller girl nodded. "yes leah she cried several times, she's heartbroken that her girlfriend didn't show up for her graduation. but rather chose to go to the same training we have four or five times a week, she saw on instagram." alessia growled, poking accusingly at leahs shoulder.

"nope." alessia held up a hand again as leah opened her mouth to pour out another excuse or hurried apology.

"i told you leah, i don't care. she deserves to enjoy the rest of her day, you've ruined enough and done more damage than you can apologize for in the two minutes you've got to leave before i let my brothers escort you outside." alessia warned seriously, jaw clenched and still gripping harshly onto leahs arm.

"but less-" "leah, go."

but right as your girlfriend was ready to get on her knees and beg alessia to get her even one minute of your attention, you came stumbling around the corner in search of your cousin.

"baby-" leah started, falling quiet with a hiss as alessia sharply pinched her and moved to put her body in between the two of you like your own personal security guard.

"you have some nerve!" you laughed, leah frowning at the slur in your voice and the way alessia hurried to catch your swaying body, shooting the older blonde a filthy glare over her shoulder as she steadied you and mumbled something in your ear.

"no i know. i'm done crying over her!" you responded, leah swallowing hard as her knees buckled with how much anger was ablaze in your eyes as your gaze moved back toward her.

"you're a little late." you mocked with a pout, voice dripping with sarcasm as your eyes burned holes in your girlfriends head, trained on her like lasers.

"bubba please if you just-" "don't leah, don't call me that." all the anger seemed to deflate out of your voice at that, the obvious hurt and betrayal in it wrapping around leahs heart and squeezing tight like a fist.

"i don't want to hear the excuses, or the apologies, i don't even want to look at you leah. i have never been so let down or dissapointed, hurt, angry, sad." you listed off every emotion which was wracking your body, pausing for a moment and swaying a little leaning into alessia more.

"i have been there for you, for everything leah. i was there by your side every day when you did your acl, through the rehab and recovery good times and bad. i didn't leave when you yelled, when you snapped, when you hurled insults just for helping because i knew you were hurting and you weren't lashing out at me." you shook your head as leah felt sick to her stomach.

"i was there for you during the world cup. i stayed in england to be there for you, watching my own cousin playing the tournament and living out her dream through a phone screen, not daring to mention the games because i knew you were devastated to miss it." you paused to swallow the tears which brimmed at your eyes.

"i have put up with a lot of shit leah, dismissed a lot of things because i love you. but this...this isn't something i can sweep under the rug and excuse because you're hurting and i want to support you. today i needed you, i needed you to support me and you couldn't even do that." you whispered, wishing you had another drink in hand for a spike of liquid courage which was bleeding rapidly out of the open wounds your girlfriends actions slashed you with.

clearing your throat you continued, tilting your chin up a little higher. "less already took me past our place and i grabbed a bag of stuff, i'm moving in with her for awhile. i don't want to see you, hear from you, nothing, until i am ready leah. i never thought you of all people were capable of hurting me like this, now please go." with that you turned around, stumbling slightly but catching yourself with a sharp inhale and marching back off to the table.

"no. leah you heard her, you need to leave." alessia's hands pressed against her chest as she tried to follow after you.

"like i said, you can go on your own terms leah, or i'll get my brothers." your cousin warned seriously, leahs mouth opening and closing before she gave in with a nod, turning and walking away.

~

"its another one for you!" you looked away from the football match your cousin was currently forcing you to watch, alessia appearing seconds after the bell had rung with another bunch of flowers as you got up with a sigh.

"she's consistent, you've gotta give her that." alessia shook her head as you took the flowers from her, perching herself on the arm of the lounge as your eyes scanned over the card.

"we look like we own a florist shop." your cousin commented, eyes roaming over the countless bunches of flowers littering the living and dining rooms.

"i've texted her telling her to stop!" you shook your head placing down the bunch with a deep seeded sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "what are you thinking?" your cousin asked knowingly as you wandered back toward the lounge, collapsing into it as she spun around on the arm to face you.

"i don't know." you exhaled honestly, face buried in your hands as alessia kicked you gently, looking down with a raised eyebrow. "its been two weeks and i miss her." you admitted honestly, sitting up with a slight grunt.

"but i'm also still really hurt and upset and there isn't an excuse under the sun she could make that would help that go away." you added on, grabbing a throw cushion and pushing your face into it with a scream.

"would you consider hearing her out anyway?" alessia asked, playing devils advocate as you looked back up with another sigh. "yes? no? maybe?" you groaned, laying back down on the lounge in a world of indecision.

"sounds like you want to. but you're a little scared of what that might mean? just hear her out, it doesn't mean you have to go running right back into her arms but it'll mean you're not sitting here wondering what it is she has to say." your cousin read you like a book with a small smile. "i hate that you're always right." you shook your head as alessia chuckled.

"just looking out for my little piccoli ravioli!" your cousin cooed, a grunt leaving your body as she dove on top of you, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head side to side before rolling off of you.

"you know i can very easily smother you in your sleep russo."

none the less you took her advice, reaching out to your girlfriend? ex girlfriend? you weren't even sure what the two of you were at this point given you'd had practically no contact for the last fortnight.

which is how you found yourself a few days later taking a deep breath, hand on the door to the coffee shop you'd agreed to meet up with her at, steadying yourself with a nod before you pushed it open.

you spotted her right away, her eyes trained on the door and hand raising to wave you over the very moment you stepped inside. "i got your usual, sorry the ice melted a little...i was early." leah started with a slight blush as you sat down, pushing the iced latte across the table.

"thanks." you gave her a small smile, taking a sip as an awkward silence settled between you two. "should i start? is that okay?" leah blurted out suddenly, knee bouncing nervously as you nodded and she exhaled shakily.

"i'm not going to waste your time making excuses or apologizing over and over or grovelling." leah started as you quirked an eyebrow and sipped at your drink, curious where she was going with this.

"i'm just going to be honest instead, get right to the point. baby i was a selfish blind asshole, to say the least. i took you for granted. i did not support you even a tenth as much as you did for me. i don't deserve you, i don't deserve a second chance." leah paused, meeting your eyes for a moment as you nodded for her to continue.

"i forgot about your graduation, i didn't care enough to remember despite all the little hints you left me that you shouldn't have even needed to. theres no nice way to say it, theres no excuses for it, no lies. i didn't prioritize you, i didn't respect you or your achievements or put your needs above my own when thats all you've ever done for me." leah sighed, fiddling nervously with her hands in her lap.

"i was so blinded by the joy of being back on the pitch, kicking a ball, being with the girls again. all i was focused on was making the roster for camp, returning back to glory and my captaincy and playing full games for arsenal again." leah admitted, neck and ears flushing hot with embarrassment.

"but nothing, not football not arsenal, not anything, should ever take priority over me being a good supportive life partner and girlfriend. you were right you have put up with so much from me, done so much for me, pushed aside your feelings and your problems to put mine first, and i couldn't even do that for a day when you've done it since the moment we got together." leah continued, shaking her head disappointed with herself.

"love there isn't enough apologies in the world that i can ever say to make up for it. obviously i am incredibly sorry, but you deserve better than words you deserve evidence and action and commitment." you were taken by surprise as leah suddenly stood.

"if you will please please please just come with me for a quick drive i have something for you." she hesitated for a moment before offering you her hand, a confused and skeptical frown on your face as you sized her up.

"its not more flowers, is it?" that caused a small smile to make its way onto the blondes face as she shook her head.

"no, no more flowers."

~

"seriously? leah this is all very weird." you shook your head as she pulled up outside your shared home, a place you'd not stepped foot in for just as long as you hadn't seen your girlfriend for, holding out a blindfold.

"i know i know i know. and i'm sure you don't right now which is completely valid, but i need you to just trust me and put this on." leah bit her bottom lip sheepishly as you sighed, giving her a hard look before snatching it out of her hand.

"no! i've got it." you smacked away her hand which tried to help, tying it up yourself as your heart rate sped up the moment your world was plunged into darkness.

"can i grab your hands? please?" you heard the car door open and flinched a little, nodding slowly as you felt leahs warm hands interlock with your own, pulling you up to your feet as the car door closed behind you.

"step, step, rock, puddle, another step, three more steps, gate." leah announced each reason for moving you, your frown deepening as you realised she was leading you around the side and toward the backyard, ears straining and senses heightened trying to work out what was going on.

"leah!" you huffed as you tripped and almost fell, strong hands steadying you as the blonde winced. "sorry...one more step."

"okay, i'm taking the blindfold off now." leah sighed shakily, and you felt her hands trembling slightly as they fumbled around clumsily with the knot on the back of the blindfold.

but persisting she finally got it, wincing as it slipped away and the sunlight struck you in the face. but that was nothing compared to how high you jumped at the large yell which sounded next, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

"happy graduation!"

"what? this is..." you trailed off, all of your friends and family and colleagues gathered around the backyard, fairy lights strung up in trees and a long table splitting the yard in half decked out with flowers and food and candles.

you tensed as leah grabbed your hands again, moving to stand in front of you with a smile. "i know i ruined your special day by not showing up for you. but you deserve to have your achievements celebrated in a way even half as big and special as you are, and everyone who knows you and loves you agrees, and they're here to show that to you." leah explained softly, another cheer ringing out from the crowd in your backyard as you both looked across with a laugh.

"you organised this?" you asked as leah nodded, letting go of your hands. "i'm not asking you to move back in tonight and forgive me right away. but i hope this is a step in the right direction to me showing you that you mean more to me than anything in the world, and i was such a fucking idiot to take that for granted." leah promised sincerely as your features softened.

"thank you." you caught her off guard by pulling her into a hug, admittedly melting into her taller form as you held one another tightly, your guests all turning back into their own conversations as music started up and chatter floated through the air.

"you're very very welcome. now go and be celebrated!" the blonde pulled away and gently pushed you toward the crowd, smile on her face as you nodded, turning and stepping toward your parents first who cheered and handed you a flute of champagne.

"did you know about all of this?" you tugged your cousin aside around an hour later once you'd made your rounds greeting and chatting with everyone, the sun setting as leah was busy setting up the catering she'd organised for dinner, lia by her side helping out as a fair few of the arsenal girls hung about, good friends with you through both leah and alessia.

"who do you think helped her grovel for forgiveness with the whole family?" alessia smiled knowingly, sipping at her drink. "the whole family?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as your cousin nodded.

"mhm, had me gather everyone at your mums place and she stood in front of them all delivering a speech about how much of an idiot she is and how much you mean to her, and how first and foremost she wanted to make up for ruining your day, even if it didn't mean you'd take her back." alessia explained as you glanced at leah over her shoulder, a small smile curling into your lips at the way she helped your nephew dish up his food, chattering away to him and pulling silly faces making him giggle.

"was it brutal?" you asked with a chuckle, alessia wincing. "horribly horribly awkward. nonna ripped into her, then your mum, then my mum, then your brother, then my brothers, then-" alessia recounted as you cut her off with a laugh.

"okay okay i get it, we have a very tight knit family who clearly have my back." you smiled with a shake of your head. "we do. but they all agreed to come, and that when she's not being an insensitive stupid idiot leah is crazy about you." alessia spoke a little more softly.

"go talk to her." your cousin kissed your cheek, slipping her drink into your hand and taking your empty one, pushing at your back encouragingly as you sighed and let your feet lead you over to her.

"hey, can we talk?" you asked, leah practically dropping the plate of food in her hand with a nod, hurrying after you as you made your way up the back steps and inside, wanting a little more privacy than your backyard full of friends and family provided.

"is this all okay? is it too much? did i do too much? less warned me not to go overboard and i know i said no more flowers but obviously theres flowers here and i got catering from your favorite restaurant and it took me days and days to get everyone to agree to come and then-" tired of her rambling you leaned in, pressing your lips against her own and effectively silencing her.

"i-okay." leah blinked in shock as you pulled away, a small smile of amusement on your face. "first of all, this is very very sweet leah, its perfect." you assured with a firm nod, leah visibly sagging in relief.

"second of all...i want to come home, tonight." you held up a hand as the blonde perked up and opened her mouth, snapping it right closed. "this doesn't fix everything leah, i'm still hurt and its going to take time for me to trust you properly again" you warned as the defender nodded eagerly.

"but we can't work on things unless we're together, and i have missed you." you admitted quietly, the words scary to confess but knowing you needed to be honest. "i've missed you so much, like...so so much." leah breathed out shakily making you smile.

"but promise me one thing?" your hands came to cup her face as she nodded.

"no more apology flowers leah for like...a long time." you grinned as leah let out a laugh of surprise, hands falling to your hips and drawing your body into hers, eyes searching you face as you nodded knowing what they were looking for, her lips sweetly pressing a few times against yours.

"i promise."

[ddarker-dreams]

Hey Lock!!!! How are you doing? Do you have any Chrollo crumbs for us? 👀👀👀👀

i'm doing well today anon, thank you for asking!!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖 and yes ... i have this chrollo thought that has been floating around in my head rent-free...

chrollo is not a yandere you want to genuinely upset.

he doesn't do 'forgive and forget.' he may appear outwardly courteous, but he's not above being petty and cruel. it's for your benefit that he keeps these tendencies to himself. there are days you can forget who exactly he is, days where he feels more like a pesky ex than an actual threat. deep down in your subconscious, you know you'd never make it far should an escape find initial success. the usual avenues won't be available to you. there's no flagging down a bystander, who in turn will alert the authorities and shuffle you off into protective custody.

there's just you and the dwindling distance between an immensely displeased force.

you're unsure what compels you to do it. perhaps it's paranoia, exhaustion, or sheer desperation from how little you can actively do to prevent what awaits; but you call him. on a payphone, amidst a bustling metropolis. you're seconds away from transit that'd speedily haul you away, should he track the call. your mouth goes dry as each ring sounds. you begin having second thoughts, wondering what exactly it is you're hoping to accomplish—

—when a familiar voice on the other line greets you. the quality distorts it ever so slightly, but your recognition is immediate, as is the way your heart temporarily stops.

he'll ask if you're alright. if you've been resting well, getting enough to eat, taking your medication.

your responses are automatic, like you're catching up with an old friend. he doesn't come across as angry, or upset really; more concerned than anything else. he does care about you. nothing you do will ever change that. he knows your allergies, what you prefer the AC to be on in the summer and heat in the winter, to turn on the subtitles when watching a movie without even asking.

he knows you.

you didn't mean to chat this long. it's a bad idea, potentially the start of the end, yet you can't help asking:

"... are you mad at me?"

he goes quiet.

not much time passes. you think you hear him sigh, but the connection's bad and your brain sleep deprived.

"i don't know, dear," he eventually admits. the pet name lacks its usual warmth. "i'm always pursuing you in some regard, aren't i? and yet... you always turn your back. always evade me, right at the last second. just when i think i finally have you, i'm reminded removing your heart might be my best chance at having it."

another pause.

"don't mind my musings. we both know out of all the lives i'll take, yours is perfectly safe."

[heartfullofleeches]

[Angst]

Childhood Best Friends with a small age gap- two or three years, nothing crazy- but it means everything as they age.

It was hard for them to make friends their age when you first met. They liked things that were too "childish" for their peers - things another child who lived not to far away adored. They'd seen each other on the way to school, but they didn't interact frequently due to their difference in grade.

Until that day-

"Whoa...Cool backpack. You like that show too?"

"Thanks... I'm thinking of getting a new one though... Do you want me to ask my parents if you can have it?"

"What?! It looks fine to me... Why are you getting rid of it?"

"My friends called me a baby... I won't be able to go back to class without everyone laughing at me unless I get a better one."

"That's silly!.... It's on right now... Wanna watch it with me?"

The two were inseparable from then on- School hindered the time they had to see each other each morning, but as soon as it let out - both ran to meet with their new best friend. The elder of the pair was often mocked and teased for their choice, but they could hardly care anymore. They had someone who'd stick by their side to the very end - childish fixations and all.

Years went on and they made new friends. It happens. More obstacles began piling up throughout - chipping away at the few hours they scarcely had to begin with. Studying, Hobbies, balancing days between hanging out with other friend groups and the person who once meant the world. They tried to make things works, but nothing went to plan-

"Is it alright if Y/n comes with us tonight?"

"Y/N? Aren't they're too young to see this movie? We shouldn't be responsible if they have night terrors or something.."

"They aren't that young... Are they?"

They never thought about it before. You were so close in age as kids it never hit them that as you grew that little gap drew a bridge between you - and it was easier to let you go than finding an alternative.

"Hey, Dude! Are we still on for this weekend? I can't believe they're making a reboot after all this time!.."

"Are my messages going through? You haven't responded in a while... I saw you outside school yesterday and yelled your name, but....."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hey."

"You're hanging out with them today? Did you forget about my birthday?...."

"You removed me off your list of friends...We're still friends, right?"

"Let me alone. I'm sick of being your babysitter. Go find friends your own age and stay away from mine."

And that was the end of things.

College cames around and their live became relatively tame. Their thoughts drifted to that childhood friend of theirs every now and again, but between school and partying with the new friends they had made - those memories faded to the back of their mind.

An acquaintance asks them to help show some new faces around the campus. One sticks out to them amongst the crowd. It's you. What do they say to you after all these years? You don't look sad to see them. Nor angry. Intact - you look..

Relieved.

Pulling them aside at the end of the tour, you free yourself from the burden that's weighted down on you since they left you.

"I'm sorry."

"It was never my intention to hold you back. Overtime I realized I was just that annoying kid who clung onto you because I thought you were my first and only friend...When you never felt that way about me. I'm sorry for taking that away from you. If our paths cross again, I promise I won't even look at you."

After being abandoned by your best friend- the person you looked up to most, you matured well beyond your years in hopes that would make you like them again. Overtime, you gave up that goal, but others could see how you've changed.

"Isn't that.... Y/n?.."

"Oh, man- It is! You guys were glued at the hip before we became teens."

"They're..kinda cute... Do you still have their number?"

All this time apart, a feeling long forgotten resurged inside them. The need to protect you. You didn't know these people like they did. You shouldn't be going to parties with them, getting to know and befriend them. They'll only hurt you - worse than they had. They never should have said goodbye to you- They should have allowed the feelings they were so scared to have, but had always been there develop and blossom naturally until you both were adults ready to move on to that stage in your friendship.

They know you best. No matter how much you grow as a person, you're still the same.

"That's a cute Keychain, Y/n!"

"Thanks! I've loved this show since I was a kid!"

They'll prove it to you.

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.”  The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[ama0310]

Silver Springs (S.R)

Character: Spencer Reid

Requested: No

Type: Angst

Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.

AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.

"Another day, another case."

Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.

This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.

Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.

As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."

Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."

"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."

As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."

Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."

Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.

"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."

As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me

A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.

A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"

Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?

Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."

Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."

Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."

As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams. 

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.

Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.

Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.

He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.

That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.

Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.

Was I just a fool?

I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you

Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

Give me just a chance

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.

Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.

Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.

"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.

Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.

As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."

Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.

"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"

Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."

Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.

"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.

Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."

Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"

"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.

"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.

"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"

As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.

"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."

"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"

Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."

Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."

"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"

Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"

They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.

"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."

For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.

"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."

Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."

"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.

"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."

Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"

Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"

Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."

Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.

As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."

Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"

"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful. 

Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it.  "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.

"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.

Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."

Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.

"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"

"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."

Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"

"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."

As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.

With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"

Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?

Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."

Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.

With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.

As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.

Also let me know if y'all want a part 2.

Thank for reading!

[guiltyasreid]

so high school l spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings/tags: non, fluff, fem!reader, there's one use of 'lady' but other than that its gn, bau!reader (kinda) qord count: 1625 a/n: i legit cannot stop listening to so high school by ts so this is what my brain has pooped out, i've written two based on ttpd but I'm not happy with the other one yet. lmk what you think :))))

Sometimes when you looked at Spencer Reid, you thought how did this man ever look twice at you. How did he ask you of all people out on a date? Everytime he looked at you, you felt as though you were in some k drama and the blossom trees were going to start shedding their petals, as you wandered down the street hand in hand, music would start playing as he gazed at you with those honey brown eyes.

Of course that never happened, it didn't stop you from going red every time he looked at you. He made you feel like you had a schoolgirl crush on him. Blushing, giggling, kicking your feet and talking to your friends about him. Making up code names so he'd never know you were talking about him. Letting them know every small thing he did because he made your heart stop.

It could be him holding the door for you as you walked into the bullpen, or holding out a hand for you as you both stepped off the jet, or how he'd let you lean on his shoulder on the jet while you slept, his hands running through your hair, not caring if anyone was watching him or seeing the interaction, it always made them smile.

He felt like Prince Charming to your Cinderella.

You weren't always so infatuated by him that it caused your brain to break. Most of the time, being with him felt like a breath of fresh air. A calm would come over you where you both could sit in each others arms while doing your own thing.

Then there were times like these.

It was a small abrupt gathering, JJ had already walked down the aisle. Everyone was mingling, drinks were pouring. Penelope had caught your arm before you could make your way inside. "I want a dance."

Who were you to ever deny Penelope?

You both span in obnoxious circles, laughing with your head thrown back as you twirled her out and pulled her back in. Both of you swayed to the lighter music together. "187 is looking at you as if you placed the moon in the sky." She whispered.

Your head turned to look in Spencer's direction. His eyes were soft trailing up you as you swayed. He was in a conversation with Derek but his eyes weren't moving from you. Finally, he landed on your eyes and you looked away red, hiding your face from him.

"You both make me jealous." Penelope giggled. "Why are you blushing? He's already your boyfriend."

"I don't know." You whispered back as if you were telling her a secret. She shook her head smiling. "He's so handsome, I can't help it."

"And you are gorgeous, don't you forget it." She raised an eyebrow at you, you nodded. "Now I won't apologise. Just letting you know." Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Suddenly, the women twirled you out, letting go of your hand, and causing you to stumble into familiar arms. "Caught you." He whispered causing you to let out a laugh.

"Thank you." You weren't meeting his eyes as you both swayed. His right hand was placed at your waist, pulling you flush against him. You placed your forehead against his shoulder, giggling under the twinkling lights.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tilting his head down to nudge yours. You shook your head, not wanting to meet his eye.

His hand slid from the side of your waist to your back, causing you to squeak. His hand that was holding yours, started entwining your fingers together. "You look beautiful." He mumbled into your hair.

"You do too." You whispered back, your arm pulling him closer, you looked up at him, seeing him staring down at you. "Dr Reid, don't look at me like that." You laughed, leaning back down to hide your face as it grew warm.

"How could I not? You're my pretty lady" He kissed the side of your head. "And that dress looks magnificent on you." He whispered. You roll your eyes, laughing as he twirls you out and pulls you flush again.

Finally, you were looking at him, wide smiled at his antics. "You've bewitched me, every time I look at you, I turn to mush."

"You do?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "What do you think you do to me? I've never felt speechless before I met you. My brain stops running, you're my kryptonite." You kissed his cheek at the comment. "Would you like to go home?"

You looked around the room, the party seemed to be finally dying down, Henry was already asleep over two chairs. Hotch was holding a sleeping Jack in his arms, he was saying his goodbyes. You nodded at Spencer who smiled.

Goodbyes didn't take long. Spencer didn't hesitate to grab your hand as you walked towards his car. You shivered at the cold. He opened the car door for you before rushing around to the driver's seat. You blushed again at the small gesture. He smiled at your flushed face as he entered the car.

Spencer Reid was the epitome of a walking daydream.

You'd lay your head in his lap as you watched an episode of Doctor Who, he played with your hair absently. "What you thinking about?" He'd ask.

"About how we met." You replied.

"And how did we meet?" He asked with a small smile.

"Mr Eidetic memory doesn't remember?" You asked sarcastically and he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"Jog my memory." He whispered.

"Well it was my first day-"

"Thursday June 6th 2007" He added. You scowled at him.

"Am I telling the story or you?" You asked huffing and he chuckled before becoming quiet to continue. "Anyway, it was my first day...

You stood outside the lift, biting your lip anxiously. The BAU, it was a bigger promotion than you were imagining when they said you'd be promoted. Of course, you had the qualifications for it, you knew you deserved it but there was still the small part of your brain that was telling you that you were in the wrong place.

As you entered the lift and clicked 6 the doors started shutting only for an arm to stop them before they fully shut. It caused a slight bang, in entered Dr Spencer Reid who was red-faced, hair nearly up to his shoulders. He saw your face going more red.

He was dressed in a white button up shirt, a brown vest, and a tie to match. Black slacks that when he turned you forced yourself not to check him out.

"You definitely checked me out." He cut off your story. "No way you didn't take a peak at my ass." You rolled your eyes smacking his arm. "Okay go on."

You definitely took a peak but you forced yourself to stare at the back of his head instead. His hair was curly and honey coloured as if he'd gotten highlights, but you could tell it was natural.

Hotch introduced you to everyone quickly. Spencer continued to pretend you did not exist throughout the entire case, you were 100% sure he hated you for some reason, maybe it was the cheeky peak at his ass. Maybe, he had eyes at the back of his head in that lift and saw you being a pervert.

"Okay, let me tell you what actually happened, because you are definitely telling it wrong." You laughed at his offence at what you were saying.

Spencer stopped the lift before it could close fully, he was red in the face from the embarrassing noise the lift made. It only got worse when he saw you in the lift. You looked like you'd just witnessed a comedy show.

"I did not, I'm pretty sure I was too anxious to laugh at you." You scoffed at his lies. He shushed you to continue.

He only caught a glimpse of you as he turned into the lift, he could tell you were beautiful, his heart was raising from that little interaction and it was as if he could feel your gaze on him which made the entire interaction even more embarrassing.

Hotch introduced you into the team. He knew if he tried to speak to you it would probably sound like a bunch of word vomit. You were magnificent, it was as if every time you looked at him every cell in his body stood in anticipation waiting for your next move. The subconscious part of his mind thought you were thinking about how embarrassing it was in the lift.

You were brilliant, smart, talented, a mean shot with a gun, they had their own sniper if needed, and you thought in ways no one did. You were a breath of fresh air onto the team, not to mention your smiles and silly jokes you'd make to try to get a reaction out of him. Derek would flirt with you and you always insulted him back which made him extremely nervous to even try.

Then, you started complimenting his outfits, listening to him intensely, never telling him to stop talking. You'd find his jokes funny, throwing your head back as if they were the funniest thing you'd ever heard. You even brought him of coffee just how he liked it. He knew if he asked, it could ruin everything. You could destroy him in one word. But, you didn't, you jumped at the opportunity to go on a date with him.

"You know I waited for months." You rolled your eyes. he was looking down at you with fond eyes. "Took your sweet time."

"Well I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go." He smiled, leaning down to kiss your lips.

"Neither am I." You giggled, leaning up to deepen the kiss.

[nariism]

a simple mission — neuvillette

accidental confession + "say it again. please."

synopsis. oh. oh no. you were most certainly not supposed to overhear this conversation between the iudex and the duke, but now you don't even know how to act right.

wc. ~1k

— for an anon bff 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

You didn't mean to eavesdrop.

Really, truly, you didn't. All you had come for was to deliver the new reports from Poisson, have your usual polite chit-chat, then take the rest of the night off for your date.

Really, truly, you wish you hadn't overheard the conversation on the other side of the door—the muffled voices of who you presumed to be the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide making his rare overworld appearance and the Iudex of whom you held so dear.

Really, truly, you meant to walk away when you heard the passing of your name from Wriothesley, the curious tone and the silence that followed.

"I don't get you." A sigh, indignant and frustrated, then: "You're supposed to tell people how you feel. Jeez."

"It's quite complicated."

"Complicated? Come on, I'm tired of watching the two of you make goo-goo eyes at each other."

"... 'Goo-goo' eyes?..."

You stifle your laughter at the strained voice, though you have to wonder if your crush on Neuvillette was so obvious that even the warden had noticed from afar.

"You're seriously just going to let them go on a date?"

"That is their decision to make. Not mine."

"Whatever. I'm just saying you should consider the possibility that you should pursue this."

"My feelings for them don't amount to anything, so just forget—"

The door swings open faster than you can blink and you're left flailing around pathetically with your stack of papers. Both men stand dauntingly in the doorway, peering at you in mortification (and, to your horror, a shine of amusement in Wriothesley's eyes).

Really, truly, you wanted to melt into the Primordial Sea right then and there. And perhaps you should have turned heel and bolted away to do just that, if only to miss the incriminating colour blooming on Neuvillette's cheeks.

He was right. It is complicated, and the way he can't meet your gaze makes it all the worse.

You've called off your date tonight.

It's not the first time. It certainly won't be the last if this keeps up.

Unsure of what to do or where to go, you end up soaked in the rain at the edge of the city. The bridge overlooks the flooding Court of Fontaine—a pretty, weeping sight that Neuvillette had shown you what felt like eons ago. Back when the two of you were just friends and nothing more, when his name didn't stir something scorching within your heart.

What should have remained a professional, civil relationship between you and the Iudex grew into something more as the years passed.

You noticed the glow of his lilac eyes, the way they softened when you entered a room; the undeniable fondness in his expression as it crinkled with his smile, dignified but warm; the lingering of his hand over yours as he accepted whatever you brought to him for that day, a gesture which he hadn't graced others with to your knowledge.

Wriothesley had bugged you once about it before during one of his visits, calling you a lovesick fool. As it turns out, he loved drama of all sorts and was making it his personal mission to witness this opera himself.

You hadn't expected him to bring it up with Neuvillette as well, thinking that he would be too off put by the judge's apparent indifference toward you.

The soft pitter-patter of rain hushes as an umbrella unfolds above you, shielding you from the onslaught.

"You'll catch a cold."

You visibly deflate, head burying into your arms along the stone railings. Oh, dear. You don't know how to act right now. How are you supposed to act in front of the person who admitted to having feelings for you just a few ago?

Neuvillette takes your silence as his cue to continue probing. "I wanted to chat with you about what happened today. But, if you're busy then..." He turns his head left and right, searching for any signs of the date you had thrilled about earlier this week.

(A date that you wished could erase all the feelings you had for him, to no avail.)

"I'm not busy. I canceled," you tell him quietly. You stand up straight, turning to face him but with avoidant eyes. "What is it?"

"I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable this afternoon. I understand it is unprofessional for us to be involved with each other, and I won't bring it up again. Not even to Wriothesley."

You blink at him, half surprised yet half not. The sudden downpour of rain roars in your ears deafeningly, somber weather matching his darkening appearance.

"You don't have to apologize. I wasn't uncomfortable, just..." You look away awkwardly. "Confused."

"What is there to be confused about?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "About why you never told me how you feel."

(Hypocrisy at its finest, honestly.)

Silence overcomes you again as he considers your words, deep in thought. You can tell just by the minute twist of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, and it makes you sick that you can read every single tell of his emotions.

"I wouldn't want to burden you. I am unfamiliar with feelings such as these. I don't think I am fit to be your partner."

"Nobody is perfect," you remind him gently, reaching out to wipe the wetness from the rain off his cheeks. "Do you think I'm perfect?"

"Undoubtedly."

His quickness makes you snort with laughter, hand withdrawing from his space to take the umbrella.

"Wrong. Very wrong. I eavesdropped on you today, you know?"

"I know," he mutters, cheeks flaming with colour again as he remembers how flustered you seemed with the door swinging open. "How much of it did you hear?"

You hum, a soft smile spreading across your face. "Enough."

Neuvillette shrinks back in embarrassment. "And I suppose Wriothesley knew you were behind the door the entire time. Nothing escapes him."

"I'll have to thank him later," you giggle.

The Iudex stiffens. "You will?"

"Well... only if you say it again."

"That's—"

"Please?"

You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows, unable to regain composure.

"If I had feelings for you, would you accept them?"

You close the umbrella and shake it off, relishing in the sprinkle showering over you.

"A million and one times, I would."

He smiles, taking the umbrella from you. His hand lingers over yours for a moment, as always.

"Then I believe you do have some thanking to do."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[vagabond-umlaut]

ramé

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

tags: set during gojo's past arc; childhood friends to lovers; pining-since-forever!gojo; oblivious-since-forever!you; tooth-rotting fluff; adorable banter; height difference; all your friends ship satoru & you; they all are very tired of you both as well; satoru & you-hashtag [not-canon-yet] relationship goals; angry protective gojo; hell lots of teasing; misunderstandings; arguments; angst with a VERY HAPPY ending

wc: 12k+ (i'm genuinely so proud of this, guys(gn) :D)

notes: decided to republish my most popular fic so far to celebrate my blog crossing 1000 followers! tysm for all the love and support u hv shown me, besties!!! <333 btw, jjk isn't mine. dividers by @/inklore. hope u enjoy reading this!

|1/6| overhaul your wardrobe.

a low whistle leaves gojo as he appraises himself in the mirror.

snow white hair neatly trimmed with short bangs, sunglasses from gucci giving a peek of his transfixing blue gaze, a fitting tom ford white shirt paired with black slacks and designer shoes, and, to top it all off, a perfume by bleu de chanel he bought especially for today...

there's no way in hell you won't find him attractive today.

with a smug smirk, the first-year swings the door to his dorm wide open, ready to astound the two waiting outside with his insanely good looks - and pauses, boisterous shout dying within his throat.

"'toru!!" you exclaim as you jump off the balustrade you were seated on and rush to him, a wide grin splitting your face into half. "surprise, i caught an earlier train!"

in spite of the shock, the boy feels his lips lift in a smile.

it's been nearly a year since the last time the two of you were face-to-face; you're still as beautiful as you were then.

"hey shortie," the words leave him in a whisper as you wrap your arms around him - only for a pained 'ouch!' to escape him a second later. massaging his side where you pinched him, the boy watches you step back with a scowl. (faux, of course.)

"call me that one more time and no one can save you from my wrath."

"wrath?" chuckling, gojo bends a bit to be your eye-level. you narrow your eyes at him. "you think that can scare me? the gojo satoru?"

"it sure can," folding your arms across your chest, you throw him a smirk in the next instant. "if it makes me share all the mochi i bought with ieiri senpai and geto senpai, and not give you the tiniest bit of it."

eyes widening behind glasses, a gasp escapes him. "you wouldn't!"

"i would," you answer, the same smirk as before still on your lips.

gojo backs off.

you're nothing if not awfully determined to make your promises see the light of the day. if he continues pestering you, the young sorcerer knows he'll actually not get a single morsel of those delicious sweets.

"you know what," a familiar voice cuts in through his thoughts and the boy twists to find his best friend walking towards him. sending him a discreet wink (which he deems is 100% suspicious), suguru reaches your side and continues, "satoru here was really excited about you coming to meet him."

"oh, is it so?" your smirk gives way to an angelic smile. gojo wishes it was directed at him instead of that long-haired bastard.

"yeah," said bastard meanwhile agrees with an overeager nod. "shoko and i too were really excited to meet the girl our friend is so infa-"

a tense silence befalls the corridor when suguru abruptly stops in the middle of the sentence. gojo swears if you weren't standing there, in front of them, he would have murdered his friend in cold blood today.

"infa-?" you prompt, smile dropping a little as your confused gaze darts from one to the other. gojo forces a chuckle out.

"it's nothing, don't you worry," he tries to draw your attention away, when shoko swoops in, like the savior she is (gojo decides to buy her one month's supply of cigarettes) and inquires, "hey, you haven't seen satoru in months, right? any change you find in him?"

that seems to be the trick. a curious glint shines in your eyes as they travel up and down his figure - appreciatively for sure, the boy says to himself. you too seem to have a liking for expensive things, after all.

after two seconds of close inspection, you turn to shoko with a bright smile. gojo's soul goes soaring at the sight in the clear skies above.

"nope! he's the same old 'toru i've always known."

gojo's soul crashes down upon the earth, splintering at the impact.

his two classmates give him a look before shoko asks again, a mild disbelief to her tone, "you really don't find anything new about him? like, maybe he has grown taller? or maybe, more handsome?"

"anything else which you never even expected, maybe?" suguru pipes in from beside him. gojo shoots him a grateful look, all past offenses already forgiven and forgotten.

a beat passes before you shake your head. "nope. nothing about him is new. though, when you speak about unexpected..." you trail off with a contemplative look.

shoko encourages you, "when we speak about unexpected-"

"i never expected you to be so pretty," you finish the sentence for her with a small smile. gojo's jaw drops to the ground. okay, what the fu-

"oh," shooting him an amused smirk, shoko faces you. "and why is it so? why did you not expect me to be so pretty?"

"it's not my fault," you reply, sending him an accusatory glance as you continue, "when i asked 'toru if his new classmates are good-looking, he said they aren't. he said you all look really plain."

"do you find me plain or handsome?" suguru butts in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare boring holes into the side of his head.

"you're plain," the short reply comes in an instant from you - and even in the midst of his gloom for going unnoticed, gojo finds it within himself to smirk at his best friend's withered face.

in the meantime, you continue speaking to shoko, unperturbed.

"yeah, so imagine my surprise when i met you at the torii gates earlier today. with such a stylish bobcut, cute face and flawless skin... i really thought you were a model, ieiri-senpai."

you pause for a second - undoubtedly to catch your breath from that non-stop chatter; gojo knows your habits like his own by now - then ask the girl who's watching you with a pleased expression, an excited grin threatening to bloom on your face, "are you a model, senpai?"

said senpai lets out a chuckle in response.

and despite feeling dispirited (and very, very jealous of that shoko for hogging all your attention), the white-haired boy cracks a fond smile, watching you be so cheery.

yeah, you certainly are one very dense dumbass.

but, he too is gojo satoru - and he will get his feelings across to you.

|2/6| display your strengths.

being a show-off is what gojo's the best at - besides yearning for you from afar, that is.

a wide grin stays on his face as he watches you approach him, a tad ahead of your classmates - two boys, nanami kento and haibara yu.

being in the first year, neither of you three can take part in the kyoto sister-school goodwill event - that doesn't stop you all from being spectators, though - which is what's enough for the gojo's plans.

a call of his name drags him away from gazing at you - you look good in that tee of his, you accidentally shrunk in the laundry - and twists back to find his teacher frowning at him.

the second-year finds it hard to wear the same grin. "yo yaga sensei, what's up?"

the man lets out a long-drawn sigh.

"don't overdo it, satoru," he says - the boy opens his mouth, ready to retort with a quip - only to be stopped by an unfamiliar expression overcoming the teacher's features.

it's a horrific insult of a smile, the young sorcerer realizes after a beat.

yaga, meanwhile, continues with that same expression, "i too was young once. i can understand what you're going through now - which is why i won't stop you from showing your talents to her or whatever. just... remember no one should die."

a quiet nod is all the boy manages in reply, too overwhelmed for a bit by the fatherly care yaga insists on giving him despite the annoyance suguru and he equally insist on being to their sensei.

with a pat on the shoulder, yaga leaves in the direction of the other faculty and staff. schooling his expression, gojo shoots suguru a look.

"hey suguru, how did yaga get to know about me and her?"

"who is her, gojo senpai?" a sweet voice chips in, soon followed by your teasing grin floating into his line of vision.

the boy averts his gaze for a beat - flustered by the sheer proximity between both of your faces which could be closed were he not such a coward, stop smirking, suguru - before sending you a wounded look.

"since when did i become gojo senpai to you?"

"since today," you reply with a tight smile. gojo doesn't like it one bit on your face. "i've been asked by the higher-ups to act professional with you."

a moment passes - wherein the boy registers the statement - before red flashes in his vision. placing his hands on your shoulders, he asks, or rather, demands to know, "did they hurt you? or threaten you? give me their names. who were those fucking bastards?"

brows furrowing, you place your much smaller hands atop his. "relax. nothing happened," you whisper, so quiet only he can hear it, "they don't have the guts or power to hurt or threaten me. all they told me is to, i quote, refrain from calling you such terms of endearment again. and i was like, okay."

a small smile settles on your lips as you take his hands in yours and start rubbing circles into them. the boy feels a lot of his tension drain away. smile brightening (you too seem to have realized the effects of this gesture on him), you add, "plus, it's only four years. once we've both graduated, i can get back to calling you whatever i want to call. those old geezers can't direct me then."

"they still can't now..." gojo begins - then stops.

with that bootlicker eldest brother you have, those old rats can now.

you give him a tired smile, words unneeded to confirm that the both of you are indeed cursing the same set of people now.

you open your mouth to say something - funny probably, if the shine in your eyes was anything to go by - before a muted cough pops the bubble you two had unconsciously slipped into.

and with an entertained smirk at the boy, who immediately seperates your linked hands, shoko informs, "sensei's calling for you, gojo. the competition's about to begin."

acknowledging her with a brief nod, gojo returns his focus to you, looking for a sliver of fear or anxiety in your face - one he'll soothe away with a gentle smile and maybe, just maybe, a forehead kiss - only for all his dreams to be dashed in the dirt.

you're peering up at him, beaming excitedly.

"go, beat 'em, senpai," you cheer him with a fist pump. an amused snicker sounds somewhere behind. your zeal doesn't budge one bit. "go, kick those kyoto students' asses. i know you will win."

and win, your white-haired senpai does - nothing new it it.

and you too seem to be very happy at it - again nothing new in it.

'cause when do you not congratulate him with a blinding beam every time the boy is successful - be it at making those pretty origami stars the way you taught him to; or at defeating a weakass sorcerer in a lame match.

however what is new is the fact you've grown rather competitive - not that gojo minds it in the slightest, though. quite the contrary, in fact.

"aren't you being a little too confident?" you inquire, throwing him a peeved glance, "every opponent you face in the future won't be as weak as those two kyoto boys today. you sure you'll stay invincible then too?"

resting his chin on the chair he is straddling, the second-year smirks, "any way you can prove i won't, shortie?"

geto sends him a questioning look while ieiri looks away from them to the scenery outside, giving a long sigh. his other two kouhais, nanami and haibara, pause in their game of cards to look at you, confusedly.

gojo observes you ignore them, eyes trained on him only, lips curving slowly into a sharp grin. gods, can you get any lovelier than this?

"well..." you drawl, keeping your focus on him. a flush creeps up the sides of his neck, which he earnestly hopes goes overlooked by you.

it doesn't go overlooked by your too-serious classmate, though - gojo spots nanami's eyes widen for a mere instant before reverting to their typical indifference.

you continue, grin simmering to a daring smile now, "why don't you find it out on your own tomorrow? twelve noon. practice field. what do you think, senpai?"

the sorcerer pretends to take a moment to regard your proposal, then shrugs. "sure, why not? sounds good enough to me."

with a wordless nod, the boy watches you return to the video game you were playing with his best friend - then look back at him on your name being called. an eyebrow rises in silent question.

seeing that the cue, he asks, "but what will the loser have to do?"

the reply comes with a smirk, your eyes dropping to your game. "you can buy me the latest version of this game. that'll be fine, i guess."

gojo was wrong - said person realizes as he watches the orange-red glow seep in through the window and render you an ethereal glow.

your competitiveness isn't the only thing new to him this evening.

your ability to make him even more head over heels for you than the boy already is (an impossible feat, really, given the chains and locks guarding him within, apart from the layer of infinity without)...

...this is yet another new thing gojo learns about you, this evening.

|3/6| gather info on your crush.

"oh, you wouldn't want to be friends with her."

the comment cuts through the air with a noisy chuckle and a raucous chorus of giggles - gojo's knuckles grow white with the painfully tight grip he has on the glass of mocktail.

suguru shoots him a contrite face from the other side of the crowd, mouthing an apology with a helpless shrug. the boy looks away from his best friend to throw a glance at the two girls a few seats away.

a beat passes wherein shoko and utahime share a brief look, and the former speaks up, an odd edge to her voice as she leans forwards, a smirk directed at the boy. "and why wouldn't geto? she seems like a pretty nice girl to be friends with."

your cousin scoffs. gojo seriously wishes there wasn't a strict rule set by his father for the clan members of not meddling in the other clans' matters, to maintain an image of neutrality and amiability.

(it's not like he prefers not to break rules or is afraid of his father, the boy thinks grimly as he gulps the last sip of his mocktail and returns the glass to the table with a thud. it's far from being either of those.

it's just that with a small response from him in this matter, you will be dragged under the elders' scrutiny; your friendship with him too will be - and that's something he would never wish upon you. so the boy stays quiet, opting to-)

"what the fuck did you just say?"

the chitter-chatter dies down to a deathly silence in an instant.

rising from his seat, gojo stalks towards the boy sitting on the couch. from the background, he can hear few voices urge him to stop, to get back, with repeated 'satoru, no' and 'satoru, relax' - but the boy finds not a cell in his body wanting to heed those voices. marching right up to your cousin, who shoots him a pathetically fake smirk now, the boy repeats himself, "what. did. you. just. say."

the target of the query huffs a chuckle, drunk and stinking - and your friend realizes now just how much of a diluted description of him you gave him the other day. the guy isn't just some petty irritating relative of yours, he is a fucking bastard.

a fucking bastard who's going to get beaten into a pulp, if he doesn't choose his next words wisely.

another chuckle leaves him, before he gets up from his seat, a slight sway to the action as he sneers at gojo. now, were the circumstances different, the white-haired boy is sure such a brazen person would've impressed him, who is the strongest sorcerer there is, but not today.

not when you're the one who is the innocent undeserving recipient of such a remark as the one he utters next.

"i just said, my cousin's a freak who can read someone's mind without them knowing - and she does that all the time for her sick enjoyment. no one can ever trust that bitch."

a fist connects with the side of your cousin's face and before anyone can realize what's happening, the two boys are rolling on the floor in a brawl, gojo obviously with the upper hand as he lands blow after blow and yell after yell on the other.

a quiet voice whispers to his conscience, chiding his response to the situation to be too harsh, too cruel - but no sooner does it appear than it is stomped down and shoved away by images from the past.

images of a little girl crying, yelling, screaming, eyes squeezed shut, how everything's so loud, how everyone's so noisy, how everyone just can't seem to stop talking of her - in the shocked silence of the party hall.

images of being informed over the phone, his friend won't be coming to play today either - for a class or a function or a cold, he cares the least for - before overhearing later at dinner, it's the fifth day the girl's been comatose since her last treatment.

images of brash celebrations revelling in the discovery and return of a technique, long thought lost - the new messiah, they exclaim - while the said person looks at the elders with face steeped in what, the boy doesn't need his six eyes to know, is terror.

images of a girl, saying in a surprisingly void tone, how horrible, how terrible, how despicable a weapon they've made her into - sneaking into people's minds to steal the meaning of their lives away - before giving a suggestion, too smart, too sharp for a girl of ten; although-

"satoru!"

the singular word snaps the sorcerer's thoughts into two, making him move his irate gaze away from the bloodied face of the bitch to the door-

oh.

it's you.

you, standing in the school uniform, a bag slung over your shoulders.

you, eyes round and lips parted as you stare at the scene before.

you, who takes only a second before you rush forwards, moving him away from your cousin, worried gaze raking over his features instead of the bruised wailing mess of a relative left behind.

"'toru," the word escapes you in a whisper as you maneuver him into sitting on the couch.

another voice wafts over to him, a lot like suguru's, but he pays it no mind, wanting to focus on you and you only, while your fingers travel over his face, brush his bangs away, tuck them behind the shell of his ear, then finally come to a rest on the apple of his cheeks, the grazing of the thumb soothing a minor cut.

though the way your eyebrows furrow at it, emotions darting across your face a million a second, from confusion to concern to anger - gojo reckons, were anyone to see you now, they would think it ain't a tiny nick but a gaping wound.

the white-haired boy grasps your wrist in his fingers.

"i'm okay, shortie," the second-year reassures you in a whisper. you peer at him closely in turn for a beat longer, before a long sigh leaves you though the frown on your lips stays the same. he would've called you cute if not for the murderous intent rolling off you in waves...

gojo decides to call you hot now.

a seething gaze with a soft "what happened, 'toru?" reaches him next.

oh yes, gojo swoons inwardly, you're being so fucking hot.

nuzzling into the palm cradling his cheek, the boy smiles. "nothing you need to worry about."

"it's your cousin," a female voice butts in before a known pair of heads walk into his vision, one smoking a cigarette while the other looks at him then you, mildly stunned.

shoko continues, as laidback as ever (as if she too wasn't glowering then), "suguru there asked him something about you to which the pig replied with some nonsense, because of which satoru here jumped in to defend your honour." your eyes travel from her to him. a whoosh of air leaves the girl and she takes a long drag from a cigarette. "nothing very serious, to be honest..."

"but nothing too unserious either," utahime adds, which earns a small nod from her girlfriend, "if the asshole dares to lie about you once-"

"what's to say he won't again," you finish the sentence for her, a dark shadow looming over your face, then throw the culprit a harsh look. "and what shit did you spout, mr. resident douchebag of the clan?"

a corner of gojo's lips quirk up at the nickname you gave, then part in a grin at the reaction your cousin gave to that. embarassed, for sure, yet never going farther than glaring at you from those swollen eyes.

if you weren't standing here, caressing his face, your friend's certain, he would have gone to tear him a new one - the latter still scowling at you whilst intermittently yelping at the pain of his wounds.

a long sigh escapes you, visibly tired and annoyed.

"i know you can hear me just fine by that stink eye you're giving me, so fess up now - what the fuck were you telling about me?"

an absolute silence answers your question, and just when gojo thinks he might have to leave your warm cocoon to go beat your cousin up, again, suguru's voice sounds from beside, "he was talking about your CT."

"oh?" a brow rises. "and what about it?"

"apparently - and i quote," the long-haired boy adds with palms raised and faced forwards, at the scowl he shoots him, "you can read others' minds without their knowledge, and you do that always. for fun, your cousin claims."

you blink, and turn to your relative; a mask, gojo observes with a hint of melancholy, slipping over your features - not that the boy blames you, though. you need a mask - now, most of all times.

"you said that, aniki?" you inquire, the caressing hand over gojo's skin stilling with a slight tremor. he envelopes your hand in his; an action you respond to with a squeeze, continuing, "but why did you? after all that happened, after all that everyone in the family knows, why?"

a stubborn scoff sounds from the other end of the room; one of the six eyes twitches in its socket.

"i don't think you should ask this question, shortie," the second-year hums, pulling a nonplussed face from you. he grins, "you can simply read his mind, no? your aniki won't be forced to give a reply; your ask too will be answered. besides, this isn't gonna be the first time you're breaking into someone's mind, and, your cousin's not even gonna feel his mind being read - a painless procedure - isn't that right, aniki?"

"fuck no!!!!"

and bingo!

gojo watches you cast a long look at him, then back at your cousin, before a slow smile spreads on your features, the glint so dear to him making a comeback in your eyes.

"not a bad idea, senpai," you say, lifting your free hand and directing it at the culprit. a few gasps sound around you, soon followed by a few murmurs - your senpai watches them slide off your skin like water off a duck's back. you announce in a sing-song fashion, "well, here goes nothing~"

then stop at the anguished cry, your smile widening into a grin.

sweet and smug, like the cat who got the canary.

gojo feels three pairs of eyes look at his smirk, all at the same time - the boy lets them look. the two of you share dynamics, the nature of which none, except you two, can ever dream of comprehending.

wailing, your cousin rises and stumbles over to you, hands folded in a pleading gesture.

"please, no, no, no," he sobs, very nearly falling at your feet before you take a step backwards, disgust overtaking your grin, sending the boy reeling back. "i beg you, no. please don't kill me. i was just kidding; it was just a joke. i'm sorry, don't kill me."

"kill you?" you let out a shocked gasp, placing a hand over your chest, "i would never. i was just trying to read your mind, aniki. why on earth would that kill you? you won't even feel anything-"

"it's the binding vow, you bitch!!" the boy spits, interrupting you, "the one you took years back, 'cause you didn't want the higher-ups to use you as a spy again; giving up the element of secrecy of your CT to-"

your cousin pauses, the realization and the ensuing horror and regret dawning over his face; gojo presses him, sharing a smile with you.

"to?"

the answer arrives as a shuddered whisper - a whisper audible to all, however, thanks to the heavy silence in the room.

"to make it lethal on its victim instead; an attack none can stop, not even a special-grade."

the crash of a glass, or five, impacting with the ground sounds; you give a satisfied nod, smirking.

gojo runs a palm over your dishevelled hair, undoubtedly from driving with the windows down to this stupid meet of the teenagers from the jujutsu clans. you give him a smile, mouth opening to say something, but he doesn't let you. "don't thank me, stupid."

"okay," you acquiesce, a slight huff to your tone before it grows softer, "but can i at least say you were being very cool then? i'm impressed."

"who's impressed with whom?" a crass voice interrupts the moment before gojo can even form it entirely between the two of you.

three - nope, five (even your classmates are here, tch!) teasing smiles float into his vision; the second-year opens his mouth to throw back a retort - except you snatch the opportunity away from him.

"i'm impressed with gojo senpai- any problems, anyone?" you say, tilting your head to one side with the cutest little furrow in the midst of your brows. all five shake their heads, smiles widening before one of them falls on your next words.

"but the next time i see you, geto senpai, asking others what sort of a person i am - don't you dare deny it, you asked two of my friends too the same thing, they told me; god knows why you need my character certificate, though, and for whom; you're acting as if you've a sibling i wish to date and you wanna know everything about me before giving the green signal, but whatever it is, senpai-"

you heave a breath, a break from your tirade - while the remainder of the room's breathing stays suspended.

gojo glances away from you to find the attention of all the attendees fixed on you. he wraps an arm around your midsection and rests his chin on your shoulder. you lean the side of your head onto his.

"i promise i'll create problems for you, more if i see gojo senpai being dragged into the aftermath of your curiosity - okay?"

gojo watches his best friend look at you, terrified, for a second before turning to throw him a glare. the white-haired boy bites back a grin.

placing hands on his hips, suguru exclaims, "you know what, i tried to help but no one here is worthy of my assistance."

"no one asked you for this help, suguru," shoko interjects smoothly, "you were the one who insisted, something about this method being the most effective or something if they want to catch her attention-"

"whoa, whoa, whoa. who wants to catch my attention?" you inquire, cutting them two off. gojo's classmates stop and the blood flowing in his veins drops to a subzero as he cranes his neck to look at you.

you twist to look back at him. "is there someone who wants to catch my attention? do you know them?"

"i-uh-um," the boy stutters, mind scrambling for a reply - something, anything - before nanami interrupts, a small smile on his face, "yeah, there is someone, actually, and we all know him. geto senpai was just gathering some data on you as his wingman."

"oh," you mutter, gaze dropping to the ground, then lifting to gojo. the boy simply blinks back, which draws a frown from you in turn.

retrieving a pair of shades from your bag, you hand it to him and turn back to suguru, a barely-there smile on your lips.

"next time he wants some info on me, ask him to ask me directly. i'll appreciate it."

"noted, boss," the words escape gojo before the addressed can even reply, utterly unmoved by the five exasperated glares [honestly, it's four: haibara can never really glare at anyone] - the next step of the plan already whirring to life in the shades-donning boy's brain.

so, so giddy at the fact of being told of the golden key to your heart.

|4/6| gather info from your crush.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"so are you."

a long minute passes between gojo and you, gazes fixed on the other person and only them, before you lick your chapped lips - the boy's attention instantly going to that hynotic motion of your tongue...

and you pinch his arm.

"ow shortie!!!! what the fuck was that for!?!?" the boy yells, massaging the sore spot on his arm, before out of nowhere, the red signal glows green and he has to shift his focus to the steering wheel.

you toss him a mad scowl from the passenger's seat, one he catches effortlessly, winking, when an observation crashes upon him and he coos. "aww, did my itty-bitty-shortie-baby just get flustered by me? aww, is she blushing? aww, she's so cute!!!"

"i asked you to help me learn how to confess, gojo," you grumble with a glare at him, "not make fun of me."

your co-passenger makes an affronted face at your words, although, internally, he is beside himself. and to be honest, how can he not?

you're in the same car as him, on a three hour long drive from tokyo to nikko, exchanging declarations of love with one another while the boy's (spare) shades slide down the bridge of your nose and he hums along to the songs you choose on the stereo... if a few facts are being ignored (like the one where this is your mission and the two of you are in your uniforms), the second-year can totally imagine the two of you going on a weekend getaway as a couple now.

a soft smile settles on his lips, as he sneaks a glance of you from the corner of his eyes. "i wasn't trying to make fun of ya, shortie," he says, "i was just responding to your statement."

"but that directly?" you ask, shock and embarrassment flooding your face. your friend stifles a chuckle. "i commented on the moon being beautiful. you should've said something like 'it is, isn't it?' - but no, you went and replied, 'so are you'. my admirer will never be so direct with me; why don't you try to understand that simple fact?"

there are a few days when gojo is really divided between wanting to flick your forehead hard and wanting to kiss you senseless.

today seems to be one such glorious day.

swerving the car onto a stop by the side of the road, he lets his head fall onto the steering wheel and lifts it to lock his eyes with yours.

"and what makes you think your admirer won't be a direct guy?"

"the fact the guy couldn't even show his face to me once, and did not even want to share his contact details with me, despite me pestering him via suguru and nanami, for ages now."

okay, ouch, that one's on him.

yet, never being the one to accept defeat, he throws back, "and what if he wants to build up some mystery before your first meet? you love mysteries, don't you? the guy likes you; he must be trying to use that knowledge to confess to you."

"i like only murder mysteries, 'toru," your deadpan response arrives in a beat, which then evolves into curiosity when you ask, "but how do you know so much about these things? how many relationships have you been in, 'toru?"

it's gojo's turn to grow embarrassed now. hand reaching out to fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, he answers, "zero."

"hey, don't be embarrassed," he watches you shoot him a grin. a tiny smile is all he manages to return while you continue, "i too have never been in a relationship. anyone you ever confessed to?"

"isn't that evident from my previous answer?"

"nope! you might've gotten rejected; who knows~"

the grin on your lips widens; gojo looks at it for once before dropping his gaze. under the interplay of the light and shadow from the leaves of the tree, there appears to be something different about you - the sorcerer can't really pinpoint what it is but he knows there is, and he doesn't want to dwell on it - lest he loses his self-control.

"i have never confessed to anyone, and whatever confessions i have received, i've either ignored or rejected them all."

"ooh, same!" your excited voice ringing within the confines of the car, you lift his palm to meet yours in a hi-five. gojo lets you do so - before you place it between your two palms and clasp it, a sharp gasp drawn from him at the action. you shoot him a concerned look.

"your hand's freezing cold, 'toru? you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, i'm fine," the boy mumbles, moving his hand away from your comforting warmth - an action he doesn't want to do but has to, for the sake of propriety. something happening out of sheer impulse isn't how he wants to start his story with you - you don't deserve that.

"um, okay," you mutter, then inquire, timid and awkward, "i've one last question on your love life... can i ask that? you can totally ask me to stop though if you're feeling uncomfortable."

"ask away," the boy answers with a smile, he can see, is tense in the mirror as he restarts the car and returns it to the road. a long second passes before you ask, "have you ever liked anyone, 'toru?"

"yeah... there's one girl. i love her."

"oh."

the monosyllabic answer sends a torsion through his chest and gojo twists towards you - only to find a cryptic smile resting on your lips.

discarding your shoes, you fold your knees upto your chest and rest your head atop them, facing him. your senpai is really thankful a soft song comes onto the stereo next, for were it not so, he's certain your soft question would have gone unheard.

"how does your first love feel? beautiful, right? the way it's in books, songs and movies... isn't it?"

gojo takes a moment to mull over your query.

it is... yet it isn't.

the flutters in his heart when you skip past him in the corridors with a beam; the butterflies in his stomach when you plop on the chair next to him in the cafeteria; the dizziness in his head when your face is too close to his; the utterly-unplatonic thoughts of you plaguing him, day and night, dusk and dawn...

the fictional works sure have got this aspect of love right.

but they aren't right in so many other aspects of it.

falling in love with you isn't love-on-first-crash nor is it from a magical transformation in one of you nor is it after ages and ages of ignorance and denial and the final mind-numbing feeling that oh shit! you're the one for him; always have been; the girls with whom he's been till now are mere mirages of you; but it's too late now... you're moving abroad on a flight in two hours, with a boyfriend who's far better than him.

no.

the goggles-wearing sorcerer's catching feelings for you is way more realistic and easier to digest than that.

the two of you are friends, friends, friends - until the morning the two of you are munching on an ice cream tub, and with a casual glance at you, the boy muses what he feels for you is weird, not like his feelings for his other friends - and after a month's worth research, reaches the conclusion of him being in love with you.

quick. direct. smart.

just like the heir of the gojo clan himself.

a small smile lining his lips on this short trip down the memory lane, your senpai hums, "it's complicated. you'll understand when you have your first love."

a soft sigh is the only response you give and gojo reaches over to give a small knock to the side of your head. "don't overthink, shortie," the boy says in a fond tone, a feeling which expands within himself at the smile you offer him, "everything's gonna be okay; i'll personally make sure it is."

"oh, yeah?" a brow rises while your eyes crinkle in a cheeky grin. "and how exactly do you plan on doing that? you gonna have a serious talk with my admirer or something, before our first date?"

if talks in the mirror over the bathroom sink counts, the white-haired boy has had countless discussions so far - but he doesn't tell you that - choosing to return your question with a question of his own.

one which has been pestering him for a while now.

"but, shortie... why the hell are you practising-"

"to confess now?" stealing his words from the tip of his tongue, gojo watches you let out a long tired exhale, then slump back in your seat, a hint of a smile on your lips. flying strands of your hair, from the wind rushing in through the open window, form a halo around your head-

your friend thinks you are an angel descended from above, no matter how you look.

a titter breaks his enraptured gaze on you, and he blinks, finding you with a tiny curve of your lips. you continue, "i wanna stay prepared. if not for this date, then another. if not for this guy, then another. but the thing is, i wanna stay prepared. for love and for everything that comes with it - besides..." your smile grows bashful, an emotion gojo instantly realizes is impossible for him to get tired of seeing on you; you shrug.

"the heart does what it wants, does it not?"

really??

the young sorcerer looks away from you for a beat, letting his gaze travel over the rows of trees dotting the increasingly mountainous terrain, then looks back at you.

the two of you are awfully close to the destination of your trip.

removing a hand from the wheel and reaching it out to intertwine his fingers with yours, the boy asks, "wanna go visit that patisserie i was talking of the other day after this mission? i've heard the sweets there are worth dying for."

"but won't it be late evening by the time our job's done?" you ask back with a frown, "and we also have to return to the school... why don't-"

"it's a full moon tonight, shortie," gojo interjects you with a soft little smile. you stare befuddled at him for a while, before the bulb lights to life in your brain - an event bringing a semblance of relief to the boy - and you laugh.

"oh, oh, oh!" you exclaim, waggling your eyebrows, "i know exactly what you're going to do. you're gonna create a romantic atmosphere to teach me how to confess, aren't you? method teaching - eh, 'toru?"

a chuckle is what gojo decides to offer to your buzzing curiosity, until later this evening.

"i'll let my heart do what it wants to do."

|5/6| splurge on gifts.

"and what can this be?"

the silver of the bracelet glints, the tiny sapphires in its rim adding a sparkling effect as you show it to gojo. the boy drags his gaze from it to you, lips pressing into a line as he takes in the way you're looking at him.

two months back, if someone even merely insinuated at the fact you might be growing distant from him, he wouldn't have thought once before retaliating with a mean word or hit.

and, to be just, why on earth would he not?

yes, the 'date' he had proposed to take you on post mission remained just a proposal - many thanks to the old geezers and their knack for providing severely understated mission details [bitter sarcasm wholly intended] - but that didn't drive a wedge between you both; quite the opposite, in fact.

two months back, he found you sobbing at his bedside in the school infirmary, lips pressing kisses to his bruised knuckles time and again, while you kept mumbling on how you should've been more wary and cognizant of your surroundings, how he shouldn't have switched his infinity off to guard you from the caving roof and how you would buy him a milion sweets if he promised to not be reckless, but wouldn't hesitate to kill him with your CT if he broke the promise even once.

lovingly overprotective in an irresistibly cute way - that's exactly how you grew to be around gojo in the days he was healing, in the latter's eyes. suguru and shoko's comments too grew less teasing and more encouraging with time then - something which made him think, the feelings in his being might not be as one-sided as he tends to believe at times.

something which made him think, there might not be a day he has to imagine without your radiant grin directed at him, for him, because of him.

yet, now... as he regards you with utmost attention...

the sorcerer can't help but deem the unimaginable to have occurred.

face grim, eyes dull, lips puckered into a scowl, every fucking time you've come across him since your return to school from your home...

it doesn't really take a genius to gather you don't really want to be in his vicinity - a realisation which leads to your best friend of a decade and a few years to shower a torrent of gifts on you.

under the impression, that's what will return your keen undivided gaze to him - an impression, he watches, being tainted wrong with every other second that passes under the fading daylight.

you return the bracelet to its box and place it in the bag, one the boy knows contains the other gifts he had left at your doorstep or sent via shoko or haibara to you, the past month - and one you intend to give him back - 'cause for what else could you have asked to meet him at the training grounds this evening, carrying the bag, if not this?

wishing, not for the first time, for his six eyes to be able to glean your current state of mind, he asks, scooting slowly, deliberately to your seated form on the bench, "did you not like it, shor-"

"please don't call me that."

the grin slowly unfurling on gojo's lips stutters, then vanishes in the heat of the fury of your eyes. he watches your gaze roam over his face once before skittering away. your voice grows a mild tremor, "please don't call me that. i don't want to hear that nickname ever again."

the soda can nearly slips from between his fingers onto the grass below before he grasps it again, firmer this time, and tosses it upside down to empty it into his mouth. it's a brand you had introduced him to, gojo reminisces, on a day just like this... grins and squeals as you jumped in front of the vending machine, so, so joyed that it had your favourite drink.

soon after, it became the white-haired boy's favourite drink too - but no longer now. not when the fruity tang of the liquid, which endeared it to you as you claimed, tastes like the metallic clang of blood to him.

now, many might call gojo overdramatic here - you've asked him not to call you that countless times now, for fuck's sake - but many don't know you the way your friend does. in horrifying contrast to before, a note of revulsion exists in your words.

undisguised disgust paired with loathing.

sharp enough to pierce infinity, past skin, muscles, ribs and layers of tissues and chains, into that stupid organ strumming melancholic rhythms now, your name bleeding raw from its walls.

superfluous, some might scoff - but they'll have never known there's a dark side to love, the one gojo's traversing now. though... the young sorcerer muses, finishing the drink and sending it into the trash can with a flick of his cursed energy, they'll never have known you. they'll never have known the degree to which the boy adores you, either.

a strong whoosh of wind hits the two of you, carrying the smell of wet earth with it. a sign of the arrival of your favourite season, your friend absently notes as he looks back at you.

the tip of your nose appears flushed red.

"and may i know why?"

shock brims your gaze at the soft question. gojo watches you cough up a strained chuckle. "i knew you to be more assertive. demanding. never thought you could request for an explanation... what changed, 'to-" you still for a beat, then continue, burning another bridge, same as the boy feared an instant too early, "i mean, gojo-senpai?"

"you're the best person to answer that," the mentioned person replies with lips forming a gentle curve. yes, the limitless user's always been one hell of a self-assured person - it comes free with the package of receiving god-like treatment by most from before you can crawl - but there exist times when all that - the fight, the zeal, the energy - every one of those just ebbs away from his body, rendering him the hapless spectator, and victim, to the car crash.

except a car crash might hurt less than the careless sneer you shoot his way, coupled with an eye roll. you never gave him such a look in the past, before you went back home for the vacation. just what-

"i think you know why i called you here, yeah?" you ask, picking the bag up and pushing it towards him. the things inside it rattle; the boy wonders if you even went through those two books he sent you. they were from the series you had babbled, ranted and gushed to him on for hours on end on numerous occasions, once upon a time.

gojo nods briefly, though doesn't spare it even a glance. it doesn't go past your notice, he notes, given the way your eyes jump from him to his gifts, then to your fiddling fingers. "well, that's one box ticked off," you say, "and as for the other-"

"i know that too; you need not say every fucking thing out loud," your senpai cuts you off with a mirthless inflection to his tone, eyes falling down onto his sneakers. it was a gift from you on his last-

bloody hell, why does everything have to be a sore reminder of you?

"not saying it out loud doesn't make it any less real," your quiet voice tears through his thought, and he looks up. hoping, desperately so, a tender smile is waiting on your features, reserved for him - only to see every hope of his get dashed into the dirt by your frown.

his best friend was right. gojo's pathetically down for you.

a thunder rumbles in the distance.

you continue, "but since you've asked me not to, i guess i won't. that's the least i can do-"

"but what went wrong?" the question hurtles past the confines of his mouth into the stormy air. and, for once, gojo decides not to conceal the moisture in his eyes behind his shades. removing the eyewear, he moves to sit right beside you, approaching to take your hand in his.

you jerk away from him.

as if you were fire and he, water.

as if you were sun and he, non-luminous scarred moon threatening to eclipse your joy.

the white-haired boy retracts his hand away. you glance at him once before averting your gaze away. he watches you clench your hands in a tight fist. "nothing was wrong, senpai," you mumble; gojo bites his lower lip to keep it from wobbling, "but there's always something tiny wrong in everything going right, ya know? i just feel we outgrew our phase of being friends."

the growl of thunder sounds closer this time. a drop of water lands on his thigh - the sorcerer doesn't bother to know if it is his eyes or those clouds above which finally welled over. voice thickening and breaking, a scoff leaves him, "you know, as well as me, that's the lamest excuse ever. and you called us being friends, right?" you take a moment then nod weakly. a pained sigh leaves him, "then what happened to being open with each other, hm? i thought we kept no secrets from each other."

the boy watches you keep your gaze stubbornly trained on the grass beneath. something within him breaks.

"c'mon, don't play dumb," gojo urges, plopping down onto the object of your attention, just so he can have a better view of your face. you face away with a frown. he prompts you again, hints of helplessness sneaking in between his words, "c'mon, shortie. don't look away with the shitty reason of us outgrowing our phase of friendship. we were - no, are the closest. you know, right? that you can tell me any-"

"not everything's meant to remain the same always, senpai!" the loud exclamation leaves your mouth. gojo stills and so do you. his eyes fall on the way you wring your hands once before stuffing them into your hoodie's pockets.

it isn't oversized on you, the realisation clicks into place in his mind.

you let out an exhale through your mouth, then pin him down with eyes teeming with what seems like weary distaste.

"can you please get up? you're creating an unnecessary scene right now."

if your words weren't enough, it's the way you utter them that leaves cracks and fissures in him. one more blow, and the boy's sure he'll be blown away into smithereens - an outcome he's trying to avoid [but knows, can't; every piece of armour he dons turns flimsy before you].

"is it 'cause you tended to my injuries then?" he asks. your lips strain into a line. casting him a sideways glance, you shake your head, "i'm many things but a liar ain't in the list, senpai. when i cared for you, it was from my heart. when i no longer wanna associate with you-"

a dark shadow falls over your features. rising from the bench, you shift your gaze skywards and back on him, "it'll rain pretty soon. you should get back inside."

there's something between summer evenings and you and him, gojo muses as he peers up at you.

it was a summer evening when you first came to visit the boy at this school.

it is a summer evening when you're turning your back on him in this same old school.

with the glaring exception of there being the warmth of your form beside him then versus the gnawing chill you're leaving behind now.

"you never completed your sentence," gojo points out, whispering.

[too loud and the sorcerer fears, the last interaction between the two of you will end as a horrid yelling match. besides, you like things with happy endings, don't you? he'll be sure to give you your happy ending as the last gift.]

you send a restrained twitch of lips his way. "i remember being asked not to say every fucking thing out loud, senpai."

a shaky smile is the only thing he finds he can muster in return, at the moment.

"suguru said you're leaving for your home tonight again," the student says, getting up from the ground and moving closer to, yet too far a distance from you. "don't drive with the windows down, okay? the weather's bad, you might catch a cold."

a muscle in your jaw twitches. the valley between your brows furrows.

gojo lets his smile widen a bit. so shallow. so hollow.

"don't worry," he says, "i'm taking this as seriously as you want me to. it's just that..." trailing off, the boy takes a step away. your feet move an inch towards him before you immediately withdraw them. a small mimicry of a laugh leaving him, gojo fixates his gaze on the iridescent colour of your irises.

"i've always seen you as someone way more than a mere childhood friend, y'know? and no matter what you say or do, i can never and will never stop seeing you the same way. i love you that much, short- oh! sorry, i'm not supposed to call you that, am i?."

a beat passes, then another, and another.

your response comes out as a garbled mess of letters and tears. "you're the worst person ever, 'toru. i hate you."

and with that and not another glance wasted anywhere, you whirl on your feet and dash back to the school.

leaving behind the echo of your words ringing in gojo's ears, louder than the thunder of the lightning crashing on a tree a little away.

|6/6| this isn't really a way. if you're at this step, just fuckin' stop and retreat. your crush won't ever notice you – you sad, pathetic loser.

"is that what you really think?"

gojo wonders if a momentous occasion as the one now deserves one brawl thrown into it or not. it won't be anything much; just dumping a bowl of soup down suguru's shirt and/or landing a pretty solid kick to his stomach and/or-

"careful, senpai or you might've to go home, bloody and beaten," the most monotone voice ever possible crashes into his thoughts in the worst possible way. a snicker, far too familiar, joins in. "yeah, nanami's right. besides, we haven't even clicked a pic yet. you wouldn't want to wear a black eye in it, would you?"

clinking his glass with shoko's, the white-haired watches suguru gulp down a shot of tequila, then give a mighty firm shake of his head. "no, of-fucking-course not. today is our dearest kouhai's important day; i don't wanna get involved in any drama now; though..." trailing off, the black-haired boy shoots gojo an awfully obvious side-glance before a look shared with the others.

the boy lets his eyes wander away from them. an abominably sharp acrylic nail pokes him in the cheek. gojo exhales a sigh, so exhausted.

were it just a day, the boy's certain to the hell and back, that he would have whipped up a snarky insult to the stink-eye aimed his way. the boy would have slapped his drunk classmate's hand away, calling her sense of fashion the worst names possible.

gojo, however, decides to resort to neither today. he decides to settle for a sigh - the second in the last minute, longer and wearier than the one before - and rests his face into the hollow of his palms, screwing eyes shut.

an exasperated grumble - or two, maybe - permeates the air.

"gojo senpai," the words ring out in a tone far too soft and worried. he muses he doesn't need to look to see the sympathetic frown haibara must be wearing, nor the varying degrees of pity and concern etched into the others' features. a warm hand squeezes his shoulder slightly.

haibara continues, "geto senpai is not entirely wrong, y'know? yes, of course, implying you might kick up drama is sorta wrong, i admit so. but otherwise... you could've tried to, i don't know, somehow find out the reason behind her sudden distance from you?"

opening his eyes, gojo twists to face his kouhai, ready to interrupt him, but stops at the earnestness in his gaze. "turning into a recluse or moping around isn't gonna solve anything, senpai. it's been more than a month since then and from what little i've seen, i can say it's eating the both of you alive. you, way more than her. so, go, speak with her," he urges him with a smile, "the others are not very well at showing their emotions but trust me when i say, we all are worried for you both, senpai."

the white-haired boy drags his gaze away from the speaker. suguru gives him a smile, shoko pokes him in the cheek again, nanami offers a fleeting impression of something smiley before looking away with a grimace.

gojo's eyes flit back to the encouraging boy before.

"okay," the upperclassman relents with a sigh, which instantly grows into a frown the moment every piece clicks into place in his mind and the goggles-wearing boy swears his heart skips a beat, "but what did you say about seeing shortie and know-"

stopping in the middle of the question, the boy stiffens.

three glasses shatter on impact with the floor, freed from the waiter's grasp, soon followed by two maids screeching your name in the most terror-struck voice ever manageable. gojo's six eyes provide him with enough details as always; albeit it seems miles from enough now, the way it always is in your case, further deepening the sorcerer's need to physically see you once; to soak in the brilliance of your gaze and the sweetness of the curve of your lips once.

who knows if he'll ever see you again from as close as- okay, no, wait-

"did you just run all the way here-"

"i love you."

"-in your heels?"

everything falls silent the moment the last word leaves gojo's lips and a shuddered breath escapes him into the bittersweet fragrance of the citrus perfume he remembers you using. in a lilac dress with a messy hairstyle and diamond studs, the youngest and newest leader of your clan stands before him, cheeks stretched in a wide grin.

whirling his seat round completely, the boy gives you one long look, only to earn a hauntingly soft look in return.

you smile.

"i know you might see me as the most inconsistent, lying, crazy bitch at best or as the most opportunistic bitch ever, trying to seduce you, for lack of a better term, to satisfy her craving for power, at worst; but no matter how you see me, how others see me, how i see myself - i'm in love with you, that's one thing which won't change no matter what."

you pause.

and as he watches you catch your breath after that long as hell sentence para, the first realisation which crashes on gojo's otherwise numb brain is: you too haven't changed.

not. one. bit.

from the way you stick to your minimal makeup look; to the way you speak sans any break and curse yourself as you confess to something (you think you did) wrong; to the way your gaze remains fixed on him, acutely trained on even the mildest twitch of his facial muscles... one whole month has passed since that stormy evening yet you're still the same you.

a little sweet. a little sour. a whole lot perfect-

who loves him-

who loves him-

you. love. him. too.

for the first time in an apparent eternity, gojo feels his lips lift in a free smile. although the chuckle leaving him sounds laden with moisture and emotions.

"i'll die before calling you a seductress, shortie," the boy says, "you're way too dumb and naive for that." your eyes move to the girl drinking beside him for a second, before settling back on him, a light sheen in them. smile widening yet growing a tender quality, he goes on to say, "and i know you aren't a liar; but regarding the inconsistent claim... i think an explanation's long overdue, isn't it?"

you huff a mild chuckle. stuffing your hands into your dress pockets, your senpai watches you draw in a long breath before letting it out in a whoosh, a tiny smile nestling in the corner of your lips. you begin.

"you know, right, my eldest brother was the clan leader before me? y'know, after my father just decided, one fine day, he's growing old and so he wants to retire somewhere peaceful now, with my mom, leaving me in the care of takeshi nii-chan and his wife?"

four pairs of eyes switch to him in silent query. ignoring them, gojo nods. it isn't everyday you speak so openly of your family, especially this topic concerning them.

considering how painful and sore it is for you.

how big of an escapist your father is.

how big of an asshole your brother is.

how utterly difficult it is for you to navigate in this household daily.

your sigh interrupting his thoughts, he hears you continue, "well, all was going well until it was not; and i decided i'd already spent too much time being a spectator to my life and future keeping getting kicked around like a fucking soccer ball."

few gasps sound in the vicinity, undoubtedly at you cussing. nanami's smooth voice cuts in through their shocked surprise, and through the bubble, gojo was under the impression, he and you had slipped into.

judging from the tiny start you give, the white-haired boy surmises you too must have felt the same.

your classmate's solemn voice sounds in the hush, though traces of a hesitation can still be found in it when he asks, "they... didn't arrange a wedding for you in the month you were here... did they?"

"they did," you're quick to answer, voice growing a steely quality, "the higher-ups and my brother decided to get me engaged to-"

"to whom?"

gojo's lips quirk up at the way you roll your eyes at suguru's impatient question, then look at him, a tired smile creeping onto your features. but, hey! is that a tinge of shyness on your face that the boy can see?

you point your chin at him. "to 'toru, who else?"

the second (or maybe, the third) bout of silence would have followed this statement of yours too - if not for the cackling girl beside gojo. the latter makes no effort to conceal his irritation, shooting the most vicious glare ever; shoko simply raises her glass, as if in a toast, then tosses you a smirk.

"you love him, still you don't wanna get hitched with him? not very clever of you, yeah?"

"yeah," haibara chips in, albeit much less teasing and more a worried timbre than shoko, the shades-wearing boy deems. the other student continues, brows creasing together, "plus, i doubt gojo senpai saying no to the proposal. so, why didn't you go ahead with it?"

your head tilts to one side. your lips twitch in a knowing fashion.

"you just said the reasons yourself, yu-kun."

years later, if someone asks gojo when's the time he realised he's in love with you, too deep and too far gone to ever consider anyone but you by his side, as his other and undoubtedly better half, the sorcerer will grin the goofiest grin ever and sigh the dreamiest sigh ever, and say, "every day."

which is the truth, really-

yet, from those 'every day'-s, there exist few such days, whom the six-eyes user's brain subconsciously frames in a golden frame and places on a dust-free pedestal.

for instance, today.

a day your senpai dreaded to begin by leaving the comfort of his bed, knowing the person whose ascension to the metaphorical throne he has been invited to witness today, blood chilling and condensing into tears on his lashes as memories from long ago and not-so-long-ago hurtle into his brain.

only to morph, by evening, into the day the boy realises: love isn't just what made him switch his infinity off and pull you under him, a shield to protect you from the crumbling roof, forgetting everything except your safety and life; but love is also what made you push him and the emotions within yourself away.

forgetting everything - the boy knows from knowing you these many years - except your very evident aim of shielding him from the vicious schemes of those responsible for this damned jujutsu hierarchy.

no matter how easy and rewarding the other path would've been for you.

no matter how difficult and painful this current path must've been for you.

just 'cause you love him.

just 'cause you know, at the end of it all, he's going to be safe, away from the manipulating hands of the higher-ups - away from even the slimmest chance of experiencing a shred of the ordeals you suffered as a child, losing your free will and living as a mere puppet, subject to those old geezers' whims and fancies.

the two of you are not-too-near to the threshold of adulthood; still, through those unsure lenses of transition between immaturity and maturity, gojo feels sure this very moment that his eyes are viewing now - of watching his feelings being reciprocated not only in words (which, he knows, are true; your body language is as familiar to him as the back of his hand) but also in actions - so pure, so selfless, so utterly... loving-

the boy reckons his six eyes have never landed on a sight so ethereal and just so good, that it makes his heart want to burst right out of his chest.

drinking in the way you're regarding him, fingers fidgeting and teeth gnawing on your lower lip, gojo cracks a smile.

your restlessness abates a little.

"you became the clan leader just to make sure this story remains ours and only ours, didn't you?"

you take a moment before answering with a big nod.

"yeah," you say, "but that doesn't mean you need to be grateful to me or anything of the sort. you can give me any answer you want to give. you can also give me no answer, now or ever, if that's what you really want to do. just know that i love you, and that your answer can never really put a dent in it, no matter what it is."

"no matter what it is?" your senpai echoes your words back to you. a small nod is what you send in reply; yet it seems to be more than the quantity of oil required to set the cogs of gojo's brain whirring to life and mischief. eyes narrowing, he asks, "not even if my response is an 'i love you too, shortie', hm?"

the clock in the room ticks thrice.

two known voices mutter curses behind him.

five maids of yours scurry out the door, whispering excitedly.

you narrow your eyes back at him.

"i asked you to not feel pressured, didn't i? tell me what you want to say, 'toru," you say; his name in your mouth sounds sweeter than the sweetest mochi the boy's ever tasted, "and not those stuff you think i want to hear you say."

your statement draws an amused chortle from gojo. "did you really forget what i told you last that day, shortie? or did you not again not understand what i was telling you then?"

"what's there to not understand in that!?" your indignant reply arrives without missing a beat, "you said you've always seen me as way more than a childhood friend: true 'cause we're best friends. then- oh yeah," with a click of your fingers, you add, face steeped in contemplation, "you also said- oh."

"yep, oh," gojo nods his head in an exaggerated fashion, revelling in the way you're looking at him right now, eyes round as saucers and cheeks ruddy as the expensive wine being served now.

you still seem so beautiful to him.

it takes a pinch more than a while before you breathe out a breathless giggle. straightening in his seat, gojo feels his cheeks hurt a bit from the wide smile digging indents into them.

"you really lo-"

"ma'am, the guests for the evening party will be here very soon. you should get ready now," one of your maids interrupts you. the sorcerer feels his smile shrivel a little. you're barely back with him; yet you'll be stolen away from him-

"aw, is it so?" your entertained query cuts in through his thoughts. the boy looks up from his shoes his gaze had moved to before, to you, an awfully fake apologetic smile lighting up your face.

gods, why do you look so fucking kissable when you're like this?

"you know what, the people invited aren't really the kind i want to talk to and ruin my mood. besides, i've already met 'my' guests, so..." the boy watches you inch closer to him slowly as you trail off; your maid's eyes narrow before widening. you grin. "toodles, mrs. matsui!"

that and the salute you throw at everyone in the room are the last two memories clear in gojo's mind, before everything turns into a mush of everything yet nothing in the end.

well, barring a few exceptions, of course.

your contagious chortles, for instance, while you both dash down the hallways of your mansion; or your delighted gasp when he wraps his arms round you and warps to that patisserie in nikko; or your million-watt-bright beam to him, as you slap the latter's sneaky hands away from stealing a bite from your plate, whilst the latter declares this to be where you two will celebrate the future milestones; or the-

"ieiri senpai was right, y'know?" your tired voice cuts in through your senpai's rather-muddled recollections. the latter tears his gaze away from the inky-black night sky dotted by the twinkling lights of tokyo, to your drowsy form resting her head on his chest, his one arm tight around your shoulders, while the other rests behind his head on the cold hood of the car.

moving to brush the strands of hair away from your forehead, the boy presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, earning a sweet kiss to his chin in return, and hums, "not really the person i wanna chat about right now with my girlfriend..." you suddenly twist your body towards him, throwing an arm over his stomach and nuzzling into his neck; making a mental note to address you as that more often, he sighs. "but carry on, i guess. you won't be you if you can't gush about that damn shoko every third sentence or something."

planting your lips to his jaw for a mere second, gojo watches you pull away an inch from him, grinning. "senpai said you'll be the first one to confess but i'll be the one who makes things official and public and all that shit," you explain, then gasp, grin turning wider.

"oh my god," you mutter, "geto senpai and iori senpai are gonna lose so much money to her. them two never thought you could ever say 'i love you' to me, did you know that? oh my god... i kind of feel bad for those two."

the gleeful expression you're wearing tells your boyfriend otherwise - choosing to ignore it, he throws you a smirk. "well, i don't. those two people shouldn't have doubted me. i'm the one and only gojo satoru," he proclaims, puffing his chest out a bit, "of course, I'll be successful in my mission of getting you to notice my love for you."

"nah, i don't think so," you shake your head the very next instant. lips into the most adoring curve he's ever seen on you - something which steals his retort away from him and makes him want to pinch his arm hard, to see if he's dreaming or not - you hum.

"you could confess your love to me, not 'cause you're gojo satoru. but because you're my 'toru and i'm your shortie... isn't it so?"

gojo thinks back to the time utilised in carefully drafting and finalizing the steps via which he can catch your eye, only to watch them not go the way planned.

gojo looks back to you, only to find your eyes trained on him, glitters of love in them unbelievably similar to those loud crackers bursting in his chest right now.

the young sorcerer runs a reverent finger down the side of your face.

"yeah, it is because you're my shortie and i'm your 'toru, sweetness," he whispers, "and we'll always stay this way, yeah?"

you reply by engraving the shape of your smile into his.

AND MY MAGNUM OPUS IS OVER, BESTIES!!! 🥳🥳😊

tysm once again for always showing me sm love and support, y'all 🥹🥹🥹 i cherish each and every one of u so so SO MUCH - plesae keep supporting me and my works the same way in the future too, my loves 🥹🥹❤️

masterlist

[angelsrcute]

7 WEEKS AND 3 DAYS. 𝜗𝜚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Scaramouche + Sub!FReader ➜ cws: angsty, toxic relationship, asshole scara, abuse, one sided love(?), kitchen sex, getting ghosted, unprotected sex, raw sex, manipulation, reader gets pregnant. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭‎ — I do not condone these actions irl, this mostly shows how the reader is in a toxic relationship but can't get out of it. Also this is my first time done this type of a lyric fanfic!!

Scaramouche, who wouldn't know him? He was a popular guy. Though he wasn't a nice guy, a delinquent. Had the worst friend group, and slept around a lot. Any girl would die to have a night with him. So what happens when he starts hanging around you? You brushed it off thinking he just wanted to have a good fuck with you. All your friends had warned you about him, how bad he was. You mostly ignored him. Detentions and parent calls, very normal for him, not like his parents cared. Doing drugs, partying, and bullying sometimes.

All my friends say "fuck you".

But could you ignore his sweet words? holding your hand as you two watched the stars. How could you ignore his promises as he kisses the back of your hand, you of course fell in love with him. Hands on your waist as you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was passionate, not like some low effort kiss. Oh, how much you loved this man. That night you confessed to him, his face brightening up as he landed more kisses to your face. Laughing in his arms till your stomach hurt.

But I can't help but love you.

You let him into your house, even gave him a spare key. Went on dates, you forgot what everyone said about him. This is true love, he was nothing like the rumours. Daily texts and phone calls, missing each other even though you two meet daily. He even opened up to you, about his family. But once you both slept together, things started to change. You felt like he was spending less time with you. You thought it was because of how busy he was, you'd always stay awake at night, waiting for him to come back. You were so worried. He'd see your texts very late, whenever you asked to go out with him, he'd always make an excuse.

And even though you ran me out dry.

When he'd come home drunk, he'd sometimes hurt you, calling you a possessive bitch for questioning him so much. But would still apologise to you with tears in his eyes, promising he wouldn't do it again, cradling you like some child who's scared. You'd forgive him at the end, maybe he just had a bad day or was in a bad mood, it's alright, everyone has those types of days. It'd still happen, everytime. He got jealous very easily too, and wouldn't let you talk to other guys. Maybe now you're seeing his true colours, but he cherishes you so much, right?

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear this won't happen again, don't be scared okay? please."

I still think you're a decent guy, Why?

Hands wrapping around your waist as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin. Bending you over the kitchen counter, “Forget the food, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” His cock thrusting into your cunt, it hurt, but you stayed quiet. He was never gentle with you, always leaving bruises. He shoots his load in your cunt, making you all warm and dumb.

On the rare days that he visited you, it would always lead to sex. You wonder if he sees you as nothing but an object. Silly thoughts, he's just showing you his love.

I should've caught him by his last name

You were pregnant, what a happy news. Maybe this will fix your relationship? You hoped so, desperately wanted him to look at you with the same eyes he once used to. Scaramouche never replied to you nor picked up your calls. Had he ghosted you? no this wasn't supposed to happen, he's just busy, right?

Tears fell from your eyes as you waited for your husband to come back, which he never did. Ah, what a dumb fucker you are, of course this was all a game. He didn't want to love a single person, he just wanted to have relief. What a shame your kid would never be able to see his father. Would he look just like scaramouche? You dreaded the thought.

You still believed that scaramouche loved you, at least you did, every moment.

It's been seven weeks and three days.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine bucky breaking up with you

The room fell silent as the words spilled out of Bucky's mouth. Jumbled up breaths of excuses of how things were just getting a little too serious for him. How he thought things were casual and suddenly he was feeling pressured. His voice ringed in your ears, heat burning on your skin as you stared at him.

Bewildered.

Casual?

This was never casual. Sure it might have started that way, friends seeing where things could go but never was it just casual.

You allowed him to continue, listening to apologetically enthused words that meant nothing to you.

Let him finish...

Let him finish...

"....I really just need some time. I don't want anything serious right now."

Bucky studied your face, looking for signs of distress. Your face was so stone cold, Austin could have been your first name. He held onto the chair he was standing in front of, waiting and waiting until you nodded.

"Fine. I really have nothing to say. I have work in an hour, but I can come by and if you could have all my things ready..."

He looked perplexed as you listed off all your possessions around his apartment. The whole two bottom drawers needed to be cleaned out, books on the shelf, coats in the closet. There was at least two pair of shoes under his bed, he could keep the pots and pans.

"Except, I really would like my stainless pan. I'm very attached to it but other than the clothes, books, whatever else you can keep."

Bucky Barnes was dumbfounded and plain dumb. He was self sabotaging as he always did and you weren't going to play this game - he needed to figure it out all his own and if he never did, well...a person could only wait around for so long.

but, fuck, he might be worth the wait if he could get his shit together.

can't wait too long...

"Also, you have a doctor's appointment next Tuesday. Don't forget they moved buildings, you won't have to take the extra train ride. So yay..."

The half hearted 'yay' made Bucky grimace and he wanted to take it all back but you were already at the front door. He moved toward you and you met him half way, staring lovingly in his eyes. A hand brushed strands of hair from his handsome face and you smiled.

"Get your shit together, Barnes. A catch like me isn't going to wait for too long. Especially when her casual boyfriend has a really hot best friend...."

There was a hint of deviousness in your eyes, the mere thought of Steve and you nearly sent Bucky into a rage but then you gave him a peck on the cheek and walked out of his apartment.

He stood there, like a perfect idiot.

[tinykittendelusion]

Seventeen's reaction when they overhear another member having sex (🔞)

a/n: overheard my friends have sex at the party last weekend made me curious how the boys would react.

triggers: sexual content (MINORS DNI)

Scoups

Dad mode activated

He was just going about his day when he suddenly heard loud moans from the maknaes room. He'd sigh with a faint blush on his cheeks. Later when he sees Dino he'd remind him to be safe.

Jeonghan

Teases them about it

Jeonghan was backstage with the rest of seventeen and they were about to go on stage. He notices that Joshua is missing. He'd go to check on josh near the toilets when from one of the cubicles he hears yous softly moaning Joshua's name. Would smirk and later tease him about it.

Joshua

Would laugh and ignore it

Now you need to understand Joshua has the patience of gods. so when he overhears you and Dokyeom in the shower he just shakes his head and finds another room to hang out in.

Jun

Face red whenever he takes to both of you

In your defence you thought all the members had gone home. But jun came back to get his sweater when he hears you and hoshi in the practice room going at it he'd just turn around and leave forgetting all about his sweater. He'd be so red the next day that the members would think he's not well.

Hoshi

Would yell Horanghe and leave

When he walked past Woozi's studio he heard something fall and he wanted to check just that. It's not his fault that you both were going at it on the floor. He'd yell loudly "HORANGHE" and leave but you'd notice his red ears for the next few days.

Wonwoo

Leave and stay in a hotel for a few days

You and mingyu were having sex in the kitchen when this precious bean arrived home.But as soon as he opened the door he could hear you both so.. he closed it. Would stay in a nearby hotel for a few days just to give you privacy. Mingyu might start thinking that he is seeing someone.

Woozi

Would make a sensual song

They were overseas on a schedule and you had flown over to surprise Seungkwan and woozi's only mistake was his room was right opposite seungkwan. When coming back from drinking with the other members he could hear your moans loud and clear in the hallway. Later that night he kept tossing and turning thinking about what he overheard. Ends up writing a millian dollar song.

Dokyeom

Avoids you both for a few days

In his defence he thought the both of you had passed out somewhere, he didn't expect you both to be having sex completely wasted in the restaurant's washroom. He would immediately turn around and send a hyung to deal with it. Would avoid both minghao and you for a few days because he would be so awkward and embarrassed.

Mingyu

Would give you soundproofing material for your birthday/anniversary

You and wonwoo were LOUD not his fault. He'd be sitting in his room and contemplating why he's living with his best friend and his girlfriend when he is rich enough to afford another house. Would gift you guys some soundproofing equipment cause "i want to be sane". Is more annoyed than embarrassed.

Minghao

Invest in soundproof headphones

The dorms were a place for him to relax but how could he when you and Jun were apparently having the sex of your lives? would roll his eyes and text vernon for recommendations on soundproof headphones. Again he's more annoyed than embarrassed but he won't bring it up to either of you.

Seungkwan

Starts singing loudly

His house was filled with moans every time they'd come back from an overseas schedule you and your boyfriend jeonghan kept going at it for all night. Tired and irritated boo starts singing on the top of his voice and ends up singing till dawn. He gets so lost into singing and having fun he never realised that the noises stopped hours ago.

Vernon

Shuts the door

The boys were all at your and scoups place to watch a movie between which you and scoups had escaped to his room for more interesting things but one of you forgot to close the room properly and vernon was tired of you both ruining the movie for him finally got up and shut the door and then turned up the volume of the tv.

Dino

Gets turned on

You and vernon sounded like you both were having the best sex of your life. Dino was sitting in the living room with the strawberries his dad had given for all the members.He suddenly realises he's sporting a boner and leaves quietly. It's not because he's attracted to either of you but the act of sex in itself.

a/n: I laughed way too much while writing vernon's and hoshi's parts😭🤣